I placed an order with Amazon yesterday, and I can’t wait for it’s arrival.  I ordered four books.  The first two books are for Roarkie: Ready for Writing and Shapes.  The main purpose of these books is to give him something to do while Edie and I have school.  I’m hoping that if he has some school books like his big sister, that maybe, just maybe, he will sit still for fifteen minutes so that I can do some real school with Edie.  I’ll let you know how that plan works out.

However, that’s not the reason I am excited about my order.  I just added those to get the free shipping.

I also ordered a book titled Teaching Little Fingers to Play.  Let me be the first to admit, I have no idea how to play the piano, and outside of my three years on the drum line in Jr. High band, I have no experience with real musical instruments.  I know I have just offended drummers everywhere, but I use the classification of “real” as meaning you have to read notes on a musical staff and produce a melody.  I can’t do that.  I can play Wipe-Out and drum the Hewitt fight song, but don’t ask me to bang out Mary Had a Little Lamb on our piano because I would be at a loss.  Thank you three years of band.

However, a very talented friend of mine who has been playing the piano since Carter was in office, convinced me that I could teach Edie the elementary lessons of piano playing.  I was super excited to hear about this.  One because our budget just does not allow for piano lessons at the moment, and two because one of my life-long regrets was that I never learned to play it myself.  Two birds. One stone.  Again, I’ll let you know how this plan works out.

But this is still not why I’m excited about my order arriving.

The bulk of my purchase was for a book called The Ministry of Motherhood by Sally Clarkson. I ordered this book because I’ve seen it talked about on several other Mommy Blogs I check in with from time to time, and I’m really hoping it is going to renew me, in some way or another.

I seems lately like Edie and I aren’t on the same page…ever.  I feel like every time I turn around, I’m saying “No!” or “Stop!” or “Why do you treat your brother that way?” or “Little girls don’t talk that way to their mothers.”  You get the idea.  I don’t want to come across as complaining about my kid.  She is a great kid.  Really, an amazing kid.  For the most part, she is sweet and kind, thoughtful and loving, but lately she’s in a season where she’s pushing the boundaries and relearning the limits, and after several weeks of that, my joy in motherhood starts to dwindle.   Being on someone’s case all the time can really mess with your attitude about life in general.

So, I feel I just need a reminder.  I’m hoping that this book serves as that reminder.  I need to be encouraged that there is a much bigger picture to our mundane days of back-talk and time-outs and that I’m teaching these kids so much more than their ABC’s and to mind their manners.  Again, I’ll let you know how this plan works out.

It was one of those rare occasions when they were within arms’ reach of each other and Roark wasn’t trying to hit her upside the head and Edie didn’t have him in a choke-hold, wrestling him to the ground.  I thought the moment warranted a picture.