The Woman Behind the Blog: 10 Facts

Ten things about the woman behind the words

• Calling myself a woman and not a girl is intimidating. 
• I've had a minimum wage job exactly once and for about five minutes. I quit and went on to something with a higher pay grade. I have worked a job for less than minimum wage. (See below.) 
•  When I was 13, my dad's company paid me 5 dollars an hour to spread straw for erosion control at their development site. I used that money to buy my own clothes, help pay for my driver's training fees, and pay for a missions trip to Mexico. 
• I spent my 20th birthday in Las Vegas as the keynote speaker at an Allstate Convention. 
• When I was being baptized, I slipped down the steps and shrieked. My friends told me they knew it was me because they saw my hair flying.
• When I was nine, I stepped on a horseshoe nail that was in the swamp. I used the resulting tetanus shot to climb as many barbed wire fences as I wanted throughout the rest of my childhood.
• I've never been thin and I never will be. I'm completely fine with that. I do, however, like being fit. 
• I'm really not sure what color my eyes are. Someone tell me!
• When I was six, I wanted to grow up and be Scarlett O'Hara. Three husbands, et al. 
• My girlhood dream was to be a flower girl. Since I never got to be one, I made sure to put lots of little girls in my wedding. 

This is what I look like while blogging: ethereal with a gigantic nose

One of Eight

The other day I spent my day "off" driving 850 miles so that I could pick up two of my siblings from college. It was an epic journey. I closed the store the night before, so I didn't make it up 'til 10:30, to bed 'til 2AM, and I was up at 6 AM. Once I got there, we managed to cram two college students' stuff into one mid sized sedan. We managed--but barely. My sister managed to squeeze her petite self into one third of a seat, my brother made the trip with a slew of bags on his lap, and I was surrounded with a halo of packed "stuff". 

We angered a lady at the gas station (I cut her off, but I wasn't about to try to maneuver into a tight slot when I couldn't see out my windows). We managed to almost die on the grapevine heading north--it's really hard to brake while going downhill at 80 miles an hour. And my brother kept reminding me that I couldn't sleep and drive.

But it was so fun. Amazing fun.

A few days later it was Mother's Day, and after I finished my shift, I spent two hours with my mama and eight siblings. We ate discounted Chilli's, laughed as we tried to take pictures, and elicited stares as we walked around the mall in one great pack. 

My siblings and I are like pieces of a puzzle. When we're together, we manifest different traits, strengths, and weaknesses of our parents, and throw in a flair of individuality. We're born girl, boy, girl, boy, etc, so each sister has a brother, and each brother a sister. In this picture you can see the camaraderie we share, the squabbles between who is taller (number 3 is the family midget) and just how much we love being together.

I love my siblings. I couldn't live life without them. 

Teach A Child to Pray, and He'll Pray for A Puppy

My mama is an avid fan of prayer. When we lost our shoes, she told us to pray. Couldn't find enough dollars to pay for tuition debt free: pray, pray, pray. Aching because we miss Daddy: pray.

Like most children, my two youngest siblings, Miss JoJo and Mr. SJ decided that there was something missing from their lives. Something wiggly, sweet, rolly, and with lots of drool. In light of their big sister's lack of plans to give them a baby nephew or niece in the immediate future, they decided that a puppy was in order.

So they prayed. And by pray, I mean pray every morning and night, every day, for months and months. Prayin' for a puppy, wanting' puppy, dreamin' of a puppy.

And then, a few days ago, SJ and JoJo heard that someone in my mama's church was giving away free puppies. And oh goodness, did they put on their cutest faces and managed to persuade my mom to take them to see the puppies. Just to see...

But once they saw those puppies it was utter puppy love at first tail wag, and they got along as well as puppies and children are apt to. However, even  these cherubic baby faces need a final push towards convincing mommy about a puppy decision.

Honestly, they are the cutest. 

And that's when their sweet, childish faces turned toward their mommy and said....

"Mommy, we prayed for a puppy, so it's an answer to prayer!" 

Try arguing with that one--I dare you. It's absolutely impossible to do. 

And they were right--they DID pray for a puppy, and there was a puppy.

So they got this guy...

If this isn't sad puppy eyes....

The current consensus is that he shall be dubbed "Bolt" because supposedly there is a lightning bolt shaped white spot behind his ear...or something. However, there was a contingent (named Abraham) who thought he should be named "Ford" after the truck, and in accordance with all my brothers' idea that Ford means American. And, of course, the puppy is incredibly American and patriotic. Or something. 

So now Sir Boltey (and that's what I am going to call him)  is going to spend his days being loved on by SJ and JoJo and all their big siblings, and being taught that doggies DO NOT eat chickens, no matter how yummy they may look. 

Eating the chickens is more than a no-no for canines at my mama's house. 

Little Bolt is a walking, barking, ball of cuteness that embodies a child's faith, and that ever so important lesson of prayer. 

The Poor in Middle Class America

Confession: the ol' green eyed monster hits me sometimes, and I found myself incredibly jealous.
One of my biggest weak points?

Middle class kids.

 I work at Starbucks, so I see dozens of tweens and teens coming in with their parents' dollars to buy themselves frappucinos soaked in caramel. Worse, sometimes it's upperclassmen or even college students (the horrors) who recklessly spend their parents' cash.

And I get jealous.

Oh, I hide under the guise of haughtiness, and secretly mocked their unrealistic lives. But a part of me yearns for that level of freedom, for the ability to simply ask mom or dad for cash to spend on...Starbucks.

That was not my reality. At thirteen, I spent a month convincing my dad to give me the $5.00 needed for a church function. At sixteen, I had to borrow money from my brother (who at twelve cleaned out goat pens for a local rancher) so that I could go see a movie with my friend.
At seventeen, my prayer was that my mother could afford to buy meat. (A kind soul ended up donating half a pig after the 4H auction.)  At eighteen, I couldn't afford to pay for both food and tuition my first semester of college--even after taking the first semester off to just work.

There was never extra cash tossed my way.

And that's fine--nay--wonderful. I'm incredibly blessed to have not been fed a steady diet of cash my whole life, to have learned how to work hard, trust in the Lord, and accept the kindness of others.

But sometimes the general oblivious about the poor in middle class American frustrates me.


A friend posted a question of facebook--is it better to give to the local "poor", or those truly destitute far away.

My  immediate thoughts?  "Umm, duh. The poor here FIRST." 

But that's because I've lived it and I'm biased. 

Caveat: I love, love, love, love that people give to poor in other countries and regions. I think that is exactly what Christians (and all people) are called to do. I just want to highlight the less glorious and noble act of giving to the poor next store. 


It is incredibly difficult to be poor in middle class America. To be invited to the same events, work in the same spaces, laugh at the same jokes, but exist in a whole different realm as one peers. It's awkward to be the one who can't afford the $5.00 fee, or a (private) school lunch--private school lunches are for those with money-opposite of public schools--. It's painful to be scolded for wearing the wrong clothes, when those hand-me-downs are all you could find.  It's humiliating to listen to trips about Disneyland, Starbucks dates, or cars for 16 year olds, when you're trying to find the funds to feed your family.

No, the cash-poor in middle class American don't live in slums, or have starved faces. They're your neighbors, that family in your church, the lady who dropped out of yoga class. They're all around you.

The poor are in Africa and next store. The poor will always be with you and everywhere. 

I remember the hard days, and even now, I marvel at those who cannot fathom not being able to buy groceries, much less make a house payment.  And, I feel more than a twinge of jealousy at them, too.

Yet I'm thankful for the privilege of having less, for the ability to give with intention, and for all the blessings that have been bestowed on me.

I want to be the mom who opens her home, fridge, and car to those children from homes with less cash. I want to emulate the actions of the wonderful people who bought my siblings and I lunch, or the teacher who bought me medicine when I was very sick. I want to give with intention to those who need it. I want to love my children and those needy children around them--instead of spoiling my children by handing them cash for no apparent purpose. I want to be like those amazing people who have blessed me--and bless others.

I will seek out the poor in middle class America. Will you?

Homeschooling: the Realities

Let's talk about homeschooling.

A few weeks ago I found this article 18 Reasons why Doctors and Lawyers Homeschool and shared it to facebook. I was delighted to see articulate article by erudite source that talked about the method of homeschooling, itself,  rather than just the ideology of most homeschoolers. It's really NOT just for the jean jumper brigade any more. It's becoming what it should be: a purist, hybrid, modern approach to education. Homeschooling gives parents another option for raising, growing, and bettering their children. And that's a wonderful thing.
It's that part of homeschooling that causes me to want to homeschool some (if not all) of my children for a while.

However, this article, like every other pro homeschooling article, works so hard to eradicate the myths and legends about homeschooling that it paints a too glossy picture. Reality is never glossy, never perfect, never seamless, and certainly never easy.

Reality is that a child whose parents are not proactive about involving him in sports, extra-curricular activites, clubs,  Sunday School, Awana, co/op, or other social settings will crave social interaction. Parents have to actively seek out ways to place their children in settings with children their own age--and other people. It is not nearly the issue that opponents construe it as, but neither should the thought be ignored, as so many advocates claim. Homeschooled kids can and do become lonely. Children need more than siblings, book characters, and imaginary friends.

Don't do that ;)

Reality is that just because a classroom with 35 children and one teacher is, indeed, an inefficient mode of education, pulling a child out of that classroom and into the home environment is not automatically a better option. Yes, I said it. The mere act of  saying "we're homeschooling--fa-di-dah, public school system!" does not automatically create better education options for a child. Homeschooling takes research, commitment, time, and intensive work.  Homeschool parents have to truly understand not just their children, but their children's educational needs. They have to learn about curriculum, become aware of what their children are learning, and admit when a method is failing. So many homeschool parents pull their children out of public schools because they feel their children's education is not individualized, and rightly so. Unfortunately, many of those same parents saddle their children with a homeschooling method that is not right or healthy for the child. Homeschooling gives you the option of research and customization: embrace it.


Reality is that homeschooling is a lot like marriage--in that, you think it will absolve your flaws, but instead it highlights them. As a parent, your patience, resolve, and skill will be tried daily. As a student, your weaknesses will be elucidated. I am still horrible at motivating myself to actually do my homework. When I was homeschooled and had no teacher to actually grade my work, I did the homework I wanted to do and ignored the other stuff. (We used Abeka video, so I was blessed to be able to be ahead of my peers academically with minimal paperwork, although high school was a somewhat tetchy.)

Reality is that homeschooling is much, much harder than sending your child to school. Homeschooling puts the weight of your child's education and mind on your shoulders. If a child is doing badly or struggling, it cannot be blamed on that teacher or  the principal. However, because it is up to you, you can find the solution.

Reality is that some days you will hate homeschooling, and so will your children. Some days you will fail, and doubt yourself. But, there will be the days that it will be beautiful, idyllic, an almost utopia in your dining room.


Reality (and this is especially important for the ideology of homeschooling) is that you might stop homeschooling. Homeschooling may cease to be the best option for your, or for one particular child. Sending your child back to school does not make you a failure as a mother, homeschooler, or person. In fact, in many cases, it is the best option for the child, and that makes you a better mother (or father). Too often homeschoolers who "convert" to different education systems are looked on with pity or scorn. They're seen as going over to "the dark side" and their former fellow homeschoolers watch eagerly, waiting for any signs of their children's moral demise. That, dear people, is horrible.

Reality is that homeschooling is a viable option that is shunned by many people who would benefit from embracing it. It is also an option that is fiercely clung to by some who need to let go. It is an option. It is not a form of worship, nor must it become the sole pedagogical style of any family.

Reality is that I was home schooled. There were days I loved it, and days I hated it. (I mostly hated it through high school.) I'm thankful for the education I received while homeschooling, but mostly for the time I spent with my family--specifically with my father. Because I was homeschooled (and he was self employed), I spent far more hours of the day with him than I would have otherwise. But, there are also a few weaker areas in my school education, that might not have existed had I not been homeschooled. (Or they might have. I doubt I ever was destined to be a physicist.)  However...one of my favorite benefits of homeschooling is that I've never been even remotely afraid of finals--at all.

Note: My mom is actually in full agreement about the imperfect state of my homeschool high school education. It was a busy season for my family, and being the oldest, certain things fell by the wayside. However, due to my experience, and vocalization of that experience, my homeschooled-through-high school siblings have had amazing, brilliant educations --designed by my mom-- and are thriving. Lesson? Listen and partner with  your older children. We can help you.  :)

I love the idea of homeschooling--its versatility, its growing popularity, its purist style of education. I'm also keenly aware of my ability to fail, my weaknesses, and every tendency that could work against me should I choose to home school my children.

Homeschooling is a fantastic option for parents. Many of the negative connotations about homeschooling are outdated or false. Just beware of naive professions of full faith and idealization.

Susie was a homeschooled kid until she was sixteen. She graduated from a "brick & mortar" Christian school and is now paying her way to a B.A. degree. She still hates homework and loves finals with equal passion. 

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A Big Family Calculator

You're in Costco. Hands on the cart, feet padding against the flat cement, mouth watering as your eyes leer at that delicous-looking sample plate on top of that red checked sheet. "Where else am I going to get a quarter of a brownie bite...for free!" Your mind reasons. Your're almost there, the brownie bite is almost in your mouth, calories making their way down to your hips when BAM! Out of nowhere a raging hoard of Mongolians appears, devours the brownie bites, overturns the red checkered table, and sets fire to the warehouse.

Actually, all they do is happen to reach the sample lady before you, but there's enough of them that the sample lady will have to select a few more brownie bites for slaughter, carefully slice them, then place them in those little paper cups. It's a first world problem, for certain, but that crowd of how many children does she have  rather well behaved children have stolen your brownie bites. 

You decide that,while you bide your time  you shall count the number of this minion of children, so that you can complain to your friends about the huge family of a bazillion children that stole your quarter of a brownie bite.

You count five, not including the mama, and once your brownie bite is in your belly, you go along your merry way. A few sample stops later, you encounter that family in your church that has eight children. You realize that the crowd of five children pales in comparison to eight...but five is still a large  number, right?!

You go home, unload your groceries, and that night curl up on the couch with a Diet Pepsi (must combat those brownies) to watch 19 Kids and Counting on TLC. 

And you realize, you don't know what constitutes a big family. 

This is a common problem in America. We've gotten so used to the idea that two children is the definition of a normal family, that any number bigger than that seems enormous and monstrous. Normal is just a setting on the dryer. Really. And some dryers don't even have that.

Since I have over twenty years of experience in this field (haha), I've formulated three theories that can help you ascertain whether or not you have truly sighted a BIG FAMILY.

The hand rule. 

If each finger represents a child, how many [parts] or [entire] hands do you need?

If it's less than one, that's not a big family.

*Caveat: four kids is a number that really swings either way. A lot of it depends on how closely the children are spaced.

 If it's a full hand, you should start the big family paperwork.

That's how many kids Stephen and I want!

 If it's more than one, then yes and yes!

 If it's more than two, then we're beginning to veer  into Duggar territory. 

The sporting team rule.

"You've got yourself a basketball team there!"

If each child represents a player on a basketball team, then does the sum total of children equate to a full team.

If there's at least five, then yes. :) 

I like to refer to our future children as our starting five because I think that's undeniably adorable. 

Of course, you always want subs, so it's a good idea to grow a few more. ;)

And finally, my all time favorite: the vehicle test.

Under the assumption that each family member will wear his own seatbelt, what size of car will the family need? 

Of course, some people, like my family aren't really seatbelt fans. But that's another blog post. 

If the answer is anything that only has five seats, then no, you have not encountered a big family.

-This rule allows families of four to count towards big family status because the next car up has seven seats. 

-At five kids, you have filled your mini van and most SUVs.

-At six plus children, you'll either need a Suburban, a six passenger van, or some other multiple personnel carrier. 

Again, if you have to drive a bus to haul all your children about, you're venturing into Duggar territory. 

And there you have it! Dr. Susie's handy dandy pocket guide to calculating a big family! 

This is my big family. Aren't we adorable?

Love, 

Susie

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