I consider potty training a "running the household" issue because wow. It sure is hard to run a household with potty training going on.

1. This is war. Your child's act of using the potty is the enemy, you are the good guy. 

2. You cannot allow your opponent to detect any weakness. Therefore we have an ongoing persona of, go potty or don't, I could not care less.

3. Your best weapon is realistic expectations. My expectation is that my child will continue to not use the potty for a good two weeks, but will continue to do his business all over my house instead.

4. I continue using cloth diapers to clean up what just happened in number 3.

5. The child has to be ready. I was in the mood for potty training about three months too early with my fifth child, Rebecca, who was about 20 months old. After two weeks of her never once interacting with a potty, and everyone in my house was weeping and gnashing their teeth from constant accidents, I knew to stop and try again later.

6. Rebecca picked the absolute worst time to display that she was interested in some potty action: a few weeks before I was about to go out of town with my husband. She had just turned 2. I am sure it could have waited, but I decided to roll with it because a child might give you this teensy short window of opportunity where he is interested in going potty. I did not want to pass that up and have Rebecca cop a 'tude later. She is successfully potty trained now, although she still wears a diaper at night. Fist bump.

7. Gracious mercy on my soul. I am essentially taming a wild animal. Heaven help me.

8. I try to pick two weeks if possible where I can be home a lot and basically stare at my child's undressed bottom half for the better part of the day. Yes, I let them walk around bare bottomed. We try not to go out in the front yard like that, and never out in public. Girls are easier because they can have on a skirt. It is a full time job to stalk your child in this way for two weeks, without their realizing you are doing this. When they begin to have an accident, I say in a friendly way, "Uh-oh" and bring a potty seat over to them to finish what they were doing. Or I take them to the potty seat. I put potties in my living room and hallway because it's tough at first for them to make it all the way to a bathroom. Generally I am very pleased if 10 percent of the potty matter actually goes in the potty at first. We are going for anything greater than 0 percent.

9. I have never used rewards like candy or cute games, but if they work for you then go for it. You're the one doing all the work, not me. I just figure, hey kiddo you get the same reward as everyone else does: pants that are not messy. I do say, "Yay, good job," after they've gone potty. 

10. The most effective potty training is, in my opinion, very messy potty training. They will go on the carpet. They just will. Dreft laundry detergent is a magical, heavenly substance that will clean any bodily fluid including mischievous pet residue. (You don't even want to know how I know this.) I also sprinkle baby powder on wet areas after drying them as best I can.

11. It ain't no shame in public. My older children find it less than charming, but I am not afraid to walk from my car to the park holding a portable potty seat. Plop that bad boy down by a park bench. This potty training thing is not neat and tidy, and leaving the house without a diaper is big time advanced mode. This is not a drill, this is not a drill, this is real. Code red. I am not taking my potty to the White House formal dinner, just the park, where other moms always understand.

12. I hold a tiny dollhouse-sized potty seat, and a tiny little bear and show my child that bear going potty. The mommy bear comes over to the little bear and says, "My aren't you doing a lovely job of going potty today dear?" I leave that sitting around where they can pretend themselves.

13. Your child will, in all likelihood, embark on a covert operation that threatens to sabotage the potty mission. After stellar performance for weeks or even months -- after you have announced to everyone that your child is potty trained -- he will have lots of accidents all over the place as if he had never used the potty in his entire life. This comes when you least expect it. But now you do expect it, so you're golden. You knew this harmless ambush was coming, it is only a bluff, and it will last just a few days or weeks. So you rally your forces and start all over again with number 1. He's still potty trained, he's just running some tricked out interference. 

14. A more adventurous potty trainee will, unbeknownst to you, wander off and go number two on his own, on the big potty. When he does this, your bathroom will look like someone has been murdered. 

15. Look at it like this: you are taking a child who has been trained to go in his diaper all this time, and teaching him to do something else. He will eventually catch on. Girl you got this.

I had a good six months to fret -- I mean pray -- when my husband asked me to go to Italy with him in May, just the two of us. My friend Amy Hanners was very happy for me and jokingly said, “This is a submissive wife issue. You have to go!”

I asked the children about it and they were sweet. “Go, Mom!" they said. "You never get to do anything fun. We’ll be fine.” My 12-year-old daughter said, “This will be like a second honeymoon for you.”

And it was. I decided to go. My husband and I looked at it this way: if we waited until the children were all grown up to do something like this, we’d be old and gray. I do try to put my marriage first, and our trip to Italy would be like Extreme Date Night with my husband.

I was very grateful to have this special time with him, and I loved every minute of it. Even beginning with the airplane flight over there, I thought: "You mean I get to sit here? And people are bringing me food?" I came home refreshed and happy. Godly woman disclaimer: I am not recommending a fancy trip as the way to find happiness. This vacation is something my husband wanted me to do with him and I had a really nice time. But the most refreshing thing I've ever done in my whole life is spend time with God. Especially read zee Bie-bull. Ahnd zees eez truth.

Every mother is wondering how it went with leaving the children. So that's what this blog is about today, but first I'll address the other urgent issue: "Did you get to take your hair dryer?" The answer turned out to be no, because the low wattage electrical outlets in Italy would burn out and kill our high wattage hair appliances. Italy can't handle our hair dryers y'all. Too powerful for the Roman Empire.

As far as leaving the children goes, it went well. My parents heroically came to our house to stay with the children. If we are going to weep and gnash our teeth in ashes and sackcloth on anyone's behalf, it would be for my parents, not my children. My parents did a marvelous job and loved this time with their grandchildren, but it was a lot of work for them and I think they probably still have a nervous twitch.

It was mostly my two-year-old Rebecca who ripped my heart out when it came to leaving the children. I don’t think I would have left the others at that wee age. Not because I’m more cold hearted now or less attached to her than the others. No, it’s because my older children didn’t have a staff of six people to look after them. My young toddler had my parents and her four older siblings to love on her, so she was a handful but she did fine.

I'm so very proud of my three oldest children, have to say. My 14 year old daughter is like having a built-in Mary Poppins. She's everywhere and doing everything. My son helped with bedtime while I was gone, because his younger sisters melt whenever he pays any attention to them. Big brother is a right hand man and a calming influence over the littles. My 12 year old daughter sweetly pitched in and was extra gracious when all her Lego's got taken apart every time she turned around. All three of them really stepped it up with helping run the household while I was away, as an act of love and gratitude to me.

Their biggest challenge was our sweet, adorable but age 2, say no more, Rebecca.

In the days before I left, I talked with Rebecca about Mommy going on a trip. Her Daddy travels for work so she understands “trip” means you go away for a few days and are in fact coming back. I’d use that word “trip” a lot and when my husband would come back from work. I’d say to Rebecca, "Yay, Daddy’s back from his trip." A child that age really doesn’t have much of a concept of time so I wanted to make sure when we left for Italy she didn’t think I had died or something, and was never coming back. Poor baby.

During the weeks leading up to the trip, I cooked extra meals and froze them, so that my Mom would not have to cook as much while we were gone. The children and I cleaned the house the day before I left so that my parents would not have a big mess to deal with when they got here. When you’re 70 years old, you get tired a little faster than when you’re 40. Plus, I think it must be a weighty thing to keep someone else's children from drowning or getting run over by a train on your watch. They probably supervised the younger children more closely than I do. I arranged for a housekeeper to come and clean one day while we were gone.

I tried to set things up so that mostly what my parents would have to do was look after the children and not have quite as much to do for the yard or house or meals. I assigned extra chores for the older children to do while I was away, such as dog walking duty for our teenage son and laundry for our teenage daughter. We picked a week where school was out, no major recitals or events were happening, and I didn't schedule any appointments during my trip.

Before I left, I spoke to all the children about respecting their grandparents and being obedient to them, and I told them it meant a lot to me for them to be gracious if things weren't the way they were used to. I told them it was a wonderful act of love for their grandparents to come and visit, and for them to honor and appreciate their grandparents for it. I did some role playing with my two argument prone children in how to handle conflicts and talk those through, without needing someone to referee. When I came back I had the children each write their grandparents a thank-you note, sincerely and specifically writing what they enjoyed and appreciated about their time together.

I had left my parents a gigantic document longer than Congressional legislation titled “More Than You Would Ever Need to Know and Then Some,” explaining about routine, activities, and general house rules. Just ones that mattered such as “Rebecca's lovey and binkey have to be waiting in her crib or she won't go to sleep.” I wrote all of this to them in the spirit of trying to make things go smoothly for them, not to be bossy or micromanage their visit.

I tried not to place hefty expectations on my parents or ask them to have sky high standards about movies and treats. I looked at it like a vacation for my children as well. We left money for them to get take-out or do fun things together. I tried to have realistic expectations about what I might be facing when I got back, such as some discipline issues that might have gotten rusty, or a sort-of-potty-trained Rebecca becoming a mostly-un-potty-trained Rebecca. Which turned out to be the case but it’s not anyone’s fault. Things were different without Mommy and it took a little while to get back to where we had been.

Once we got to Italy, I knew that whether I had a blast, or if I spent the whole time full of anxiety about the children, their situation would be exactly the same. My worrying would not help them at all. When I started to feel that tug in my heart for them, instead of stressing out I would say a prayer for them.

I had prayed in the months leading up to the trip that God would surround our home with the Holy Spirit, and that He would keep their little hearts happy in my absence. I prayed for my parents and asked Him to give them an over abundant supply of strength and love. I would picture our home, aerial view, and I would imagine armies of angels surrounding it. I’m pretty sure those angels were right there.

Ay-eww the beautiful, beautiful sound of ping pong balls happily jumping around in my dining room.

My teenage son and two friends are tearing it up on ping pong in my home right now. I want this to be a fun place for children, all sizes and ages. We don't have a basement so, there's that. With five children, most of our floor plan is bedrooms. I have had to get a lil creative on making my home more fun, by using the living areas that we have. Especially as the people get taller.

I am so incredibly proud of myself y'all. Tell you why in a second. We had been talking about turning my lovely dining room into a game room by buying this crazy expensive game table that was yoo-glee. I mean yoo-glee. I was willing to do that so that our house is fun for teenagers. They have to go somewhere right? When they're bored, I want them to come here. I want there to be fun stuff to do and basic general food items available along with an atmosphere of: we love that you are here. And we know you need more to do than read my fascinating books on the history of Rome.

Get ready to high five me: I found a portable ping pong set at a sporting goods store for about $25. It came with two paddles and a net. You stretch that baby out and mush it to the sides of your dining room table. So it's a temporary attaching ping pong situation. I keep the net, balls and mallet thingies stored away in a drawer nearby. Bam, game room. And I didn't have to give up my girly dining room that I like to use for parties or special meals. Or spend an insane amount of money on a yoo-glee table. Hence, I'm so proud. Excellent solution.     Please click below to read more.

Pop quiz. What are you not in the mood for?
a) Witty brilliance
b) A plea for modesty
c) Biblical insight or,
d) While you are packing up the car, your child spills water on his socks and everyone else's socks when you are seven minutes late, and while you are cleaning that up, he walks in the mud in the yard and falls down into the dirty leaves.

I think your answer is d).

I pretend my children and I have to be somewhere 15 minutes before we actually have to be there. That way, when no one can find two shoes that match, the baby spits up on three people's shirts, and you realized right as you are walking out the door that there’s a big chunk of seaweed in between your front teeth from your salad, it’s no biggee.

When we’re in a hurry, we’re in a crazy state.

I would love for someone to do a research project to figure out what percentage of car wrecks happened because someone was in a hurry and didn’t want to be late. People get a little whack when they are in a hurry. And yes it does occasionally happen here in the South. I have a really hard time being patient with my children when I’m in a hurry, I can tell you that. If they get wound up about something and start to argue, when you have a few extra minutes you can deal with it. I’ve actually pulled off the road and parked somewhere safe to get out of the car and handle a spun up child who needs discipline. Or who needs their spilled crayons to be retrieved off the car floor. I could do it calmly and rationally because we had extra time.

I think I need a bumper sticker that says "Nutcracker survivor." My 11-year-old did three ballet performances last weekend and like many of you, those sorts of events can really push you over the mommy cliff with being busy. I try to build in a little extra time doing all the dashing back and forth especially at the holidays.

If you have to be at a meeting or appointment at 11:00, pretend you really have to be there at 10:45. Everyone and everything can fall apart all they want to. You can look down at the gas pedal and see you are wearing two different colored shoes, just to give you a real life example. Actually I realized that once we were already at the park, now that I think about it. I was wearing one brown flip flop and one black one. But it wasn't because I was in a hurry, it was just because I am flaky. And there have been several times I realized I was still wearing my bedroom slippers as we were about to pull out of the driveway. I went back inside and changed and we laughed. Then two people needed to run inside to get their stuffed animal and a book and it was fine.

You can be glad I'm a book nerd. I'll read them and report back to you with the good parts. The best thing I got out of The Well Trained Mind by Susan Wise Bauer was her family's afternoon rest time. I do wish she hadn't played it so safe with the history curriculum she wrote, in holding back on giving God any glory in the way things go down over time.

But I love me some rest time, sistah.

Mrs. Bauer's homeschool children all have an hour to two hour rest time every afternoon. I'm embarrassed to admit to you that years ago, before I learned to really listen to and learn from my husband, he had the same idea. But I couldn't picture how that would work so I didn't follow his advice. I told him I was so sorry when I read the very same idea in Mrs. Bauer's book, which describes the way her family implements it.

It took a little effort for me, getting our children used to the idea at first. It took a few weeks for them to get used to it. It took some patience. They were little so I gave the youngest a sippy cup of milk. Something special to bribe, er, encourage her to stay in her room a while. They got to listen to books on tape from the library, or Bible songs, and that has morphed into present day playing video games for the older children. Our 5-year-old listens to Little House on the Prairie CD's a lot, or a creation science CD about Noah's ark.

During this lovely respite, I spend the first little while tidying up some from the massive whirlwind of the morning. In the early days of rest time, I would mop the floor and then I used to curl up on the couch and drink a cup of herbal tea and read my Bible. Now, I mop at night because people are sometimes coming and going during rest time. I stretch out on my bed these days and read my Bible, and sometimes take a nap while the baby naps.

With rest time to look forward to, your mind is thinking, "I can love on these precious ones until 2:00" instead of until Daddy comes home, or, for airline pilot or military wives, until bedtime. It's a really nice break that we are all used to in my family. It's an hour or two of quiet and peace in our home. It's some sanity action for mamma. Before we start dinner and the second half of our work day. And hey, if it's good enough for the Europeans who chillax every afternoon, it must be good enough for us.

Over the years I have been able to put together a list of about 12 or so meals that I rotate through every week or two. I noticed what my husband seemed to like. I noticed what he ordered in restaurants. For years I tried to cook to the children's liking. It made life easier to have child-friendly meals. But guess what? When you have five children, someone's going to not be thrilled with the meal. I had my priorities all wrong on that one, regardless of how many children we have, and now I make what my husband likes. 

The children can grimace all they want (on the inside: we really try not to allow that kind of disrespect), but what's important is I know my husband's happy at meal time. And by the way that picture up there is totally copied from my website people from their stock of pictures; we don't eat fancy like that around here all the time.

Each week, I try to sit down and look at my calendar. I assess the meal mission. I address any hot spots of logistical combat hostility such as afternoon lessons. Then  I plan accordingly. I make a list of meals for the week, based on the previous husband data collection. The list for the week are meals that make sense to have depending what is going on around here. I figure out when my husband's going to be out of town for dinner (sometimes we don't know till right then if he is on call), and I make easier meals if he's not going to be home that night. I save the trickier meals for when he is going to be home. 

I look at my calendar to see when we're going to be at activities that begin anywhere after 4:00 that afternoon. That's gonna be a crock pot day. Or an overcooked meat in the oven kind of day. I prepare that earlier in the day when I am home and things aren't hectic yet. If you have 5:00 violin lessons, you can't make dinner starting at 5:00 (duh, you're at violin). If you're going to avoid stopping by and picking up fast food, you make that meal earlier in the day. When my family eats out, it's because we decided to go do something special, not because we don't have anything to eat at home. Sometimes I prepare the meal earlier in the day, keep it in the refrigerator all afternoon and then put 'er in the oven before we leave the house with the oven timer on. That works well with casseroles. One huge help is to have my son brown the ground beef right when it comes home from the grocery store. Then we store it in the freezer in smaller containers and it's ready when we want to have tacos or make spaghetti sauce. 

There is no rule that says you have to make dinner at dinner time. 

I hardly ever make dinner at dinner time. I set the table at dinner time. But the prep is usually earlier in the day. Even if we're not going to be gone that afternoon, I often do a little dinner preliminary action at breakfast or lunch when the kitchen's a mess anyway, chop up some veggies or make a salad. You can have good meals every day with your family. We pretty much never pick up fast food. It just takes a little planning.

Have you noticed that you always buy the same things over and over at the grocery store? I got an idea from a newspaper a while back (so sorry that I cannot credit the writer or the paper), to create a typed list containing all the things you tend to buy at the store. I thought about my grocery store and the way it is organized, and I created this grocery list divided into sections based on the aisles at my grocery store. My teenage son found the list in my computer and added items such as "dynamite" and "liquid nitrogen" at one point which made me laugh when I read that in the dairy section. I removed his creative additions, just because of space limitations. We keep a printed list stuck to our refrigerator all the time. When people say, "We're out of cream of tartar," I can tell them to circle it or write it on the list.

I took this concept a step further and noticed I am also making the same meals all the time, over and over. And so I created a list of about a dozen meals with all the ingredients needed, so that before I go to the store I have a plan. So we are transferring whatever we need from the meal list, onto the grocery list.

Maybe we need a master list of the list of lists. No, I think we're good. A little planning like this helps you not buy a bunch of random stuff that you don't need, and prevents you from being in the middle of making spaghetti sauce only to realize you need tomato paste. 

We have some French doors in our house, and they lead to a top secret no-no realm that must be highly protected from toddler predators. It's my husband's office. He's really patient when little people come and go while he's in there, and we have a train set for them to play with, at his feet.

But we don't want to leave this room unsupervised, only to have certain members of our family under the age of two rearrange all the paperwork and buy a new portfolio of mutual funds on his laptop without realizing it. 

So he came up with this brilliant childproofing idea. He tied some string around the door knobs, and voila, no entrance for the little people. He did the same thing with pony-tail holders on cabinet knobs. If you are visiting someone's house and your toddlers are getting into things, a couple strings and some pony-tail holders could help.