Category: Family Stories

Sand

June 12, 2017

Sand

It was a busy, start-at-3am kind of day.  We’d planned on going to the beach but it was almost 6pm and I was still working.  Unpacked boxes stacked in precarious towers in what would be the music nook – if we ever got the piano, drums, guitar, bass, and other assorted nose-makers from storage.  The front room resembled tornado-aftermath footage; shoes without their organizer spilled from the single tomato box, book boxes sat about, awaiting the arrival of a bookshelf, folded clothes waited delivery on the couch, and the dogs, exhausted from barking at every neighborhood squirrel since noon, were sprawled out like black rugs.

I knew we’d been working all day, but while trying to conquer the nightly result of supper, a quick glance at the chaos that reigned was rather disheartening.  It seemed that mood of disappointment had rubbed off on everyone.  Toddlers and preschoolers generally act out when they are upset and the older ones appeared to feel like they’d worked all day for a vain goal (the beach).

The cool thing about Florida is that even an early April sunset is close to 7:30.  The neat thing about technology is that everything for my business can be done from one phone; even on a busy night.  A super thing about our crew is the ability to grab-and-go and pack the van in minutes.

We went to the beach.  We hadn’t been to this beach since the previous summer, after Matthew (for non-Floridians, that’s “Hurricane Matthew”) when our beach spot was covered in debris.  “Our spot is back!” Yelled Kimberly.  We parked at our little spot (not legally ours, just where we always try to park) and the beach was beautiful.  The beach is always beautiful here.  It felt like my soul was refreshed just by walking in the sand.  The water was Florida cold, but we’ll get in the ocean in mid-winter and love it.  Lucas and I didn’t go deeper than ankles, but that was because I was dispatching and the surf was rough.  (Lucas loves the rough surf when the water is warm, not a huge fan of it when it’s cold)

We spied fishing boats and Lucas showed everyone the stars as the brightest ones greeted the approaching night.  We took several relaxing pictures.  I realized I had been allowing the normal side-effects of moving to control my attitude.  I should be more like sand; it moves, being formed and shaped by outside forces (kid’s hands, animal feet, car tires) but returns to normal easily.  I should let God be the waves and smooth the roughness of my irritation and frustration away so I’m smooth and even again.

Smooth and even feels so much nicer than frustrated and irritated.  I love how God uses His creation to remind me to slow down and enjoy life!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

Health Changer

June 10, 2017

Health Changer

I have this thing about being dehydrated (low water) and anemic (low iron).  Or at least had that problem.  Pregnancy was like wake up, puke, attempt my multi-vitamin, puke, get to work, puke, and be falling asleep in the truck when we drove home.  I loved everything else about pregnancy.  My midwife told me I was anemic and needed to drink more water.

I didn’t like water.  I tried tallying glasses, but never got more than 3 in a day!  I tried carrying a huge bottle representing how much I needed in a day, but that was seriously discouraging because I didn’t seem to make a dent.  I eat healthy; mostly local and organic, almost never any hydrogenated, bleached, or processed foods, but it just wasn’t enough.

My sister introduced me to Shakeology.

It was $100 a bag (month) if you signed up as a coach ($15 monthly fee) which made it $3.83 per day.  I am a major saver (actually, skinflint, scrooge, etc.) with money when it comes to spending on myself.  I didn’t want to even try.  My coworkers spent $4 or $5 a day on a coffee though and that’s not a meal-replacement shake with over 90 essential nutrients.  But I was pregnant with #3 and if this vitamin stopped the puking and dehydration (as my sister claimed it would), cool.  They have a “bottom of the bag” guarantee (they want you to find your favorite way of making Shakeology).  Return an empty bag if I didn’t like it for a full refund?  Okay, I decided to give this almost-$4-a-day daily dose of dense nutrition a try.

It was awesome!  Within a week I was craving water!  Actually filling my tally sheet with plain, normal, water!  Not flavored water, not sweet tea, not even lemonade, but plain, healthy water!  No dehydration headaches!

But that wasn’t all it did for me!  It filled about half of my iron requirements, so with my other healthy foods, I was no longer anemic!  My bowels were regular. (Yes, all through pregnancy & just after too!)  I wasn’t that exhausted tired where you don’t feel like moving.  Toss in some potassium and I was full of energy.  No need for coffee anymore (I was using large amounts of caffeine to make me awake for the normal day) – coffee was now my treat!

That was about 9 years ago.  Shakeology was a game changer for my health.  More vitamins = more energy = being involved more in my children and life!  Most people say it’s a weight loss shake.  True; we crave food because we are missing nutrients so a shake with most of your essential nutrition = more vitamins = less craving = less calories = healthy weight loss.

When I started we just had chocolate (awesome with milk, Louis likes his with water), now there are six flavors (dark chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, chocolate, café latte, and greenberry) so the neatest way to try them all is the sample pack.  If you are interested in the business side of it, try the coach link (I’m a coach for the discounts, like some people do Mary Kay for makeup discounts) but know many who make a living being a coach for Beachbody.

I encourage you to give Shakeology a try.  Who knows?  It could be the best investment in your health – I know it was for me!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

 

 

Sooty Makeup

June 2, 2017

Sooty Makeup

     I’m not really a makeup person.  (Okay, I almost never wear makeup.)  Someone says “makeup” and I think sweaty post-workout drizzle where my face looked like a tie-dyed T-shirt (which was my teenage inexperience with makeup).  Rebeccah, however, is very artistic and does makeup well.  It’s an art to her.  Makeup is just another type of paint and human faces are her canvas.

Loving, excited aunts have made sure the girls have a colorful assortment of fun, safe makeup to play with as they enter the teenage threshold.  They’ve taught the girls many makeup techniques and how to match colors.  (Sometimes the craziest of color contrasts emerge, but that’s all in the learning game – and clowns need makeup artists too.)

One afternoon I was busily canning marinara sauce (a family staple) when I heard Kimberly announce from the front door, “Mom, come see, we’ve done our makeup in your style!” (Christina was just beginning to explore makeup)

My style?  I was busy, but curiosity won and there’s little I could do before the steam finished exhausting.  I peek and they are coming from outside, where they had discovered some soot from the outdoor kitchen.  All three of them are covered in smeared soot.

“My style?” I laugh.

“Yes!”  Christina says, “just like in the army!”

Camouflage!  That would be my makeup style.  Just let me blend in with my surroundings and disappear – that about described my normal interactions with most other humans.  I didn’t realize my children knew me so well!

“Yes,” Rebeccah adds, “we can look up now, and no one can see us.”

Turns out they were playing spy games, based on the recent string of military movies we’d watched over that weekend.  Of course, in black-and-white, all the face camouflage looks just like soot.

They took off to “finish their mission” and I returned to my hissing canner.  At that point, I was trying very hard to do more than blend in.  That doesn’t come easy for me.  I can write all day and interact with imaginary people in my made-up worlds, but interaction where I make myself open to others is not easy.  I love teaching, playing with, and guiding children.  My own age group?  It’s not easy for me.

I’m learning how to wipe off the sooty face camouflage and try my hand at real makeup.  I’m learning how to be open to others and allowing myself to invest in them – to be real, invest time, to speak instead of being silent.

I’m enjoying this “be the canvas” stage I’ve entered.  Plus, it’s an extra time to listen (and talk) to my daughters because I always want to be open and real for them.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~ Nancy Tart

 

Winners

May 28, 2017

Winners

It’s been an awesome day.  I covered morning reservations and we went to church.  I always feel refreshed and ready to conquer the world after church.  Today the discussion was about winners.  We talked about how all believers are winners in the end because we get to go to heaven.  (You know, we all start out winners too… only the fastest one made it!)

Everyone loves to win.  It’s embedded in our genetics.

The whole “winners” thing is just an attitude adjustment.  It means looking at life like we know the end.  (We do!)  Seriously, people in the early church thought it a blessing to be persecuted for Christ’s sake (it’s there over and over in the Bible – “counted it an honor” means the same as us saying “blessed”).  How can someone say “it is an honor to be persecuted for Christ’s sake,” after the verse before says they were beaten, and be like “but that’s awesome!”   They tell us why!  Because they know they will win.  They know they will go to heaven.  They know the end.

You see, if we equate our life as “everything will be smooth and easy” we are really missing it.  We aren’t really touching people if we aren’t messing up some applecarts.  Our life here is meant to touch others – to “win” others to Christ.  Does God bless His people?  Amazingly!  Are those blessings always financial?  Nope.  We miss things like the sunrise, oxygen to breathe, babies to snuggle, friends to laugh with, clean water to drink, and food.   Being a winner means focusing on all of the many gifts God gives us every day and rejoicing in any situation – finding the good in anything.  There is good in any situation.  Sometimes it’s a challenge to find it.

Bankruptcy – we can start fresh.  Moving – new people to touch.  No dishwasher – be thankful for running water.  Hard day at work – be thankful for a job.  Remember the story of the little girl who was always finding something to be glad about?  Always looking for the good in people?  She is ridiculed and rejected often, until finally her positive attitude changes a whole town!  That’s how people are touched, by our lives standing fast and having the joy that comes from within despite what’s raging around us.

But we do have an advantage.  We do know the end.  We are winners because the battle is already won.  If we believe that, how can we not be a winner?

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

Where the Crib is Clean

May 27, 2017

Where the Crib is Clean

It is 1900 hours. I’m at war. I come in armed with every weapon in the arsenal. I am determined to win this battle. THIS HOUSE WILL BE CLEAN!

“Mommy!” squeals the toddler, streaking through soaking wet and followed closely by another child, chasing him, in shoes that have obviously been outside. Battle temporarily paused as main unit boils like a canning pot in frustration.

The most simple and yet most complex of all equations: H2O + DIRT = MUD … and wet couches, footprints… this is the assault that never ends, it goes on and on my friends! And yes. It Will NEVER END! (Especially if you have a child and/or a pet – and in this equation, 2 doesn’t equal double the mess, it equals mess to the tenth power!)

While the sounds of war (okay, laughter and squeals of rapturous joy – but those sounds feel like flaming arrows right now) engulf my brain into retreat and I attempt to bury myself in a book and disappear, I’m able to find my big-vision goggles.

When I’m at a loss for what to read, I grab the Bible and open to Proverbs, look at the calendar (or attempt to remember the date for ten minutes before I give up and check my wall or my phone), and read that date’s chapter. Well, it was the 14th of I-forgot-the-month. (Oh yes, January – one birthday just done, another around the corner and year-end business reports due on the 15th! Oh my, that’s tomorrow!)

Proverbs 14:4 reads : “Where no oxen are, the crib is clean, but much increase is by the strength of the ox.”

What I saw was: “Where no children are in the house, it is clean, but much blessing, love, joy, and strength are gained by the vibrant, amazing, intelligent young people being trained within!”

Big vision goggles on.

“Cleaning the house” is a battle that will never end. But, just like a productive farm has a dirty “crib” (okay, think motor oil spills and mud tracked in the barn by a tractor today) and a productive kitchen has dirty dishes (yes, my dishes are stacked in a to-the roof model of the leaning tower of Pisa), a productive house is in a constant state of never-really-perfectly-clean. (Mine is in constant state of tornado-just-went-through.) A productive house, according to the same chapter I was reading means a place where wise parents are building up the next generation(s) and encouraging each other.

A game of Scream-the-Flash-Card-Answers has started. Lucas is on the drums. Jillian is watching Christina play the piano. I glance at the after-dinner kitchen chaos. Someone has unloaded the dish drain and Rebeccah is working on dismantling the leaning tower of Pisa without creating a demolition zone. My war on cleaning is secondary to the battle we are winning – the strategic, long-term battle of instilling character and truth in our children.

If I seriously believe that I should “Do everything as if unto God” and know that children follow my example more than my words, training would be to model a joyful attitude in mundane “serving” tasks like cleaning.

So, loud dance music comes on, (God knows me so well, “Born for This” – which is perfect, I love this song.) I try to delegate cleaning operations and bedtime preparations.

Oh yes, I’m a perfectionist and “clean” would pass hospital sterility, but if my “crib” is clean, it means my children aren’t there. I want to enjoy this “untidy crib” with all the vibrant life within it for as long as I can.

Translation: less stress about the house. Stop and play or teach as needed. Tidy up the last big mess at one set time with teamwork – it’s easier and more fun.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

The Chicken Castle

May 25, 2017

The Chicken Castle

   It was one of those days when I felt productive.  I’d managed to get the house cleaned, was hanging my third load of laundry, had finished catching up financial reports after our move, and everyone was still breathing.

Then there was a squeal that makes any mother immediately drop anything.  It was followed by “stay in that castle!”  (Okay, no one is hurt, probably.)  With my adrenaline pumping like a bass drum in my ears, I try to breathe and respond without screaming “WHAT HAPPENED?”

Jaquline and Jillian had built a castle with the outside blocks and had corralled the 23 one-week-old chicks into it.  Platinum, Chicka, and Sherlock (yes, they named the chicks!) decided the grass outside of the castle was better than the feed inside.  While the girls squealed and attempted to catch the chicks (Mix prong-horn antelope speed with mongoose evasion & you have a young chicken) 19 of the remaining biddie flock fled the castle.

“Mom!” Jillian wailed, (I was back hanging clothes) “Only Kerjack obeyed.”

“How can we keep hawks away from you if you don’t listen?” Jaquline said to the chicks as they gathered in one spot under a billowing sheet.  (Hawks only have a chance because they have super stealth.)

I spied a teaching moment! Perfect!  So I left the clothes and helped them gather the chicks to the safe spot where hawks usually don’t spot them and the girls could attempt to watch them again.  I told the girls: that is what we (parents) feel like when we give warnings (like the latest for Lucas, “don’t try to grab the goose at the park!”) but children choose not to listen.  We know what the danger is; like they know the danger for the chicks.

Jillian looked at her shorts.  “Like when you say wear pants but I have shorts and mosquitoes can bite me easier.”  Jaquline pulled up her pants and checked her legs for bites, then announced, “but I have long pants so I listened and I have no mosquito bites!”

Bingo!  This day now feels super productive!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

Trucks!

May 22, 2017

Trucks!

     Lucas is almost two.  He loves trucks.  He loves food.  While all of the girls had “Dada” as their first word, Lucas heard the air popper and screamed “Pop-pop!” running into the kitchen with his popcorn bowl in hand.

Currently, his newest craze is yelling on the condition of the trucks that pass his window.  At home, it’s just the UPS or Fedex trucks (BIG TRUCK!) and Grandma and Papi’s trucks (PAPI TRUCK!) which enter the yard.

We had a friend riding shotgun.  She says hi, but Lucas pretends he’s shy.  A garbage truck goes by.  A squealing yell erupts from the second row, “BIG TRUCK!”  This is followed by two “PAPI TRUCK!” yells, an ear-shattering “RED TRUCK!” shout and a Publix big rig.  Huge gasp, “BIG, BIG TRUCK!  MAMA BIIIIIG TRUCK!”  Shotgun is laughing hysterically.

This boy can spot a policecar with lights off a mile away.  Those are “Woo Cars!” or “Please Cars” since he can’t clearly say “POLICE.” (This made an officer smile and give him a toy car at the Family Fun Fest – “WOW, PLEASE CAR!”)

Any toy with wheels is “my truck” or “my train” or “my car.”  His daily exercise includes fifteen miles of running behind a wheeled toy sputtering “rrrrrr” or “brrrrRrrrrr.” (If it looks like it should have wheels but doesn’t, he will pretend it has wheels and push it all over the house instead; examples are empty boxes, pillows, toy boxes, baking pans, and chairs.)

Today he discovered two of his wooden trucks in the last of the moving boxes and was cradling them yelling “yeah! My trucks!”  Scattered around him and overflowing his car shaped toy bin are probably two dozen assorted vehicles, but these were missing for almost two months and now demanded all of his attention.

What was lost was now found.  God does that when we come back to Him.  He loves each of us tremendously – He sees us coming from our “far-away” place and runs to us.  Like we are the only person in the world.

Isn’t it neat what images God puts for us to connect to His love?  A little boy with his trucks reminded me of God’s amazing love.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~ Nancy Tart

 

Please Write More!

May 21, 2017

Please Write More About Ethan! (Brantley Station Saga)

      One of the issues with writing and being a perfectionist is this: I never view anything as complete!  I have hundreds of half-finished manuscripts in various sizes littering my “stories” folder.  Because I proof myself better in print than on a computer, I also literally litter the house with story proofs.  Sometimes the girls pick them up and read them.

“MOM!” I hear Rebeccah shriek.  I’m working on business finances and I know the little ones are asleep.  (PLEASE don’t wake the baby!) But I just answer “what?” and keep working.

There she stands, that eager, excited look with her pixie-look haircut (long in the back, feathered up front, but in a ponytail it looks like she’s got short hair) and big, pleading brown eyes imploring my soul.  She’s clutching my proof clipboard and begs, “Mom, you have to write more about Ethan!”

I sigh.  I’m busy.  I’m working on business.  Writing is just a hobby.  All the excuses I can think up die as she begins chatting away about the story and wants to know the “Pirate Baby Story” in detail.

I love to see her lit up over a book like that!  I LOVE books.  I LOVE reading.  I considered Nancy Drew and Tyce Sanders to be intimate friends!  Christina had that love of books.  She was always lost in books. (Like the house could burn down around her and she’d never know it.)  It is an integral part of self-learning to discover a love of reading.  I wanted to keep this flame burning for Rebeccah.

So, I agreed to work on Brantley Station Saga. (aka Ethan) But my child knows me well.  She wasn’t interested in me working on it later.  She came back after every phone call that interrupted my financial work.  She wanted to watch me write about Ethan.

Because of Rebeccah’s desire to know the backstory in more depth, Ethan’s story starts with Pirate Child and Little Thief instead of at The Protector where I had started it.  Jamie (per Rebeccah, I just had to write more about him too) played a bigger role than I had originally planned and we introduced Mary – a character Rebeccah and Christina created!

I’m so grateful for my children being my biggest encouragers!  Many things I’ve written are just there because they wanted them on paper instead of told from my head.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~ Nancy Tart

 

Thrill Seekers

May 21, 2017

Three Generations of Thrill Seekers (Scream!)

     As a teenager, I went to Six Flags over Georgia with my youth group.  My mom was one of the chaperones. (That really means adults who want to have fun and use watching the kids as an excuse.)  My mother loves roller coasters.  I rode Scream with my mom. (LOVED it!) I rode everything else in the whole park too, but that ride was my favorite because my brain envisioned the car flying off or the wooden ride collapsing due to a secret termite infestation.  I loved scary and risky so I loved thrill rides.  I thought it was super neat that my mom loved them too.

Fast forward to my own little ones and we happen to be at Six Flags one day. (It was supposed to be Wild Adventures, but we didn’t check operating day until at 4am when we are on the way.  That park was closed so my crew is like “Let’s visit family in Atlanta!” and they were busy until afternoon so Six Flags it was.)

Big girls and Louis went for the big rides with long lines while Kimberly, Jaquline, Jillian, Lucas, and I went to the kiddie zone and they had an awesome time.  Lucas, we learned, was just as much a crazy risky-feeling ride lover that all the kids were. (Probably the result of Daddy, uncles, and big sisters swinging him around!)  We gathered together and swapped partners with me and Lucas as “base” since Lucas couldn’t go on anything by himself and I was dispatching.  (In an amusement park, 8 hours away, yes, working.)

Jillian hadn’t done any roller coasters yet because almost everything she missed by a hair.  An hour from close, Louis asked each girl what ride they wanted to do.  Jillian instantly shouts “Scream with Mom!” This results in me and my baby girl riding Scream for her first roller coaster ride.  I’m not much of a picture taker, (NEVER selfies) but when we got in the car, Jillian says, “I want a picture with you on my first ride!” (1st roller coaster, but I guess all the other rides didn’t count.) So, my first attempt at a selfie was me and my baby girl on the same ride I rode with my mom twenty years before.

We are a thrill seeker (or crazy, nuts for brains, no concept of reality, love to be scared to death) family.  We just see the fun and go, no planning, no thinking about what if this or that fails; we just trust that everything will be okay and we will enjoy the ride we are on.  It sounds a lot like life.  You never know what you will find.  You never know what challenge or risk or turn will be ahead.  You just have to hold on tight and go for it.  Trusting that God will take care of anything you can’t handle, give you strength and tools for what you can, and hold the safe end in His hand.

The fun comes with being thankful in every moment, finding the good even within the challenges, and encouraging others along the way.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~ Nancy Tart

 

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