Adventures in turtle-ing: Episode 2.

How we came to know that Bucky is a boy.

5:55 p.m. The turtle is pointed out to me at church and I (despite my great dislike for touching reptiles) pick up the turtle and place him carefully in a bucket. I call Gary to tell him that if he wants to be a hero, he can bring the kids to church after dinner to come pick him up.

I was in my meeting at this point, so my information is secondhand. I have a pretty reliable source, so I can vouch for it's accuracy.

6:15 p.m. Gary loads the kids in the van, having told them they are on their way to get a pet. Four children talk at once, many questions are being asked, and there is much anticipation.

6:16 p.m. The van does not start.  Not to be deterred, Gary loads kids in the wagon and begins the walk to church.

6:45 p.m. Everyone is home, turtle in tow. First order of business - take the turtle across the street and introduce him to the neighbors' turtle. Maybe they can share a box!

6:50 p.m. The turtle are placed together while seven children and three parents gather to observe.

6:51 p.m. It becomes clear that it is mating season and our turtle "gets to know" the neighbors' turtle. Clearly, ours is the male.

6:52 p.m. The parents exchange looks and some laughter. They decide it's best to separate the turtles, but that is easier said than done. (I was not actually there, but I can imagine the banter between the parents... "Oh, what are they doing? Those crazy turtles! Better get them their own boxes..." Finally, they are apart and our turtle, now named Bucky, is taken home. A box is found - he is given food and water. Everyone heads up to bed.

8:10 p.m. I arrive home to find Rachel waiting for me. "Guess what Mom?" she says. "We have a turtle and it's a boy turtle. We took him over to the Chrislips' and he climbed right on top of their turtle. He was really strong and Dad couldn't even get him off!"

"Maybe they were fighting," I reply.

"They were definitely not fighting," she says. "I think our turtle likes their turtle. It's called mating."

Thank you PBS and National Geographic for providing such a solid biology lesson to my children. Job well done. Now, if only you could teach them to clean their rooms.

Adventures in turtle-ing. Episode 1.

After our neighbors found a turtle in their yard, my kids spent the better part of two days searching for a turtle of their own.

After a frustrating afternoon and one tear-filled evening, I suggested they take it to prayer.

"Dear God," said Rachel. "Please help us find a pet. A turtle, an inch worm, I don't care."

The next night, a little begrudgingly, I attended a meeting at church (it was beautiful outside and I just wanted to stay home and have a glass of wine on my patio)

But there, in front of the church, was a turtle. Of course, I didn't see it right away - someone had to point it out to me. But that's how it is with God sometimes, we don't always see Him working.

We have brought Bucky home and he is receiving more love and attention than any turtle ever has. (We know he is a boy. More on that later.)

It's best not to watch my process

You know those beautiful blogs from women who seem to effortlessly pull off beautiful crafts with their children who are perfectly groomed, all while taking lovely photographs capturing the entire amazing process? I always wonder how they appear to have such tranquil, uninterrupted lives. Are they magicians? Do they lock their doors so no one thinks they are home? Do they live far from civilization where solitude is the norm? Well, I am not one of those women. I suppose I could post pictures, cropping out certain details, but the truth is, this is how craft time goes at our house....

It's 3 p.m. on a glorious afternoon and my children and I go outside to make clothespin people for our Easter decorations. We need to make 12 disciples, one angel, one Jesus and four women. Good times. Rachel has called dibs on the women and Jonah has claimed Jesus.

At 3 p.m. we sit in the sun. It's hotter than we thought and by 3:15 we are baking. I am tired already because three children asking for different fabric at the same time has overwhelmed me. My poor iced coffee that I made is just melting as I watch.

3:20 p.m. Lucy emerges from her nap. Pantless in the front yard. Luckily the neighbors aren't surprised - they've seen this before. Still I *try* to promote modesty even in two year olds, so I shuffle her into the house to get dressed.

3:30 p.m. We have moved to the shade. Mary is almost finished, Jesus has two faces (one will be colored over with hair soon) and Henry is deciding if his person should be Peter or John. We settle on Peter.

3:35 p.m. The neighbors come out to play basketball. All boys and Lucy abandon the project. Rachel continues and makes another woman. I am trying to channel my inner Padre Pio and help children cross the street while also helping Rachel with the hot glue gun.

3:45 p.m. Rachel leaves to play basketball. I put the supplies in a chair to save for later.

By 4:30 p.m. we have all come home, hot, tired and hungry. We must clean up the mess, start dinner and clean up ourselves. And we aren't finished with our people. This is setting up to be a sparsely attended Easter morning.

Between 4:30 and 5:30, I receive eight phone calls, two doorbell rings, pick up a screaming child three times and help complete one more woman and one angel.

By the time Gary arrives, we have scooped up all the supplies and cleaned up the kitchen. The table is set and we are ready to display our artistic, yet incomplete, creation.

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It is now several weeks later. Easter is over, we celebrated with joy. We are finally finished with our project but I have not taken a single photo. Know this though.... right now my kitchen is clean and so are my children. We have handcrafted a hands-on learning tool and I am a super mother. (Two of the four are true, but there are no pictures to prove which ones, so you will just have to guess....)