When Mama Is Away, It's Dad In Charge Of 11 Kids

Julie got away for the night, but left her mini-me Madeline behind

Julie managed to sneak away earlier this afternoon for a night away alone leaving yours truly in charge. We're at the midnight hour here at Sabo central and things are running smoothly. That's the full-blown truth. It's a well-oiled machine here when Dad is in charge.*

 Julie is heading to a Calvary Chapel pastor's wives event over in Lynchburg tomorrow -- well, technically today now that the clock has struck midnight -- and took off today with a big grin on her face.

She hit Richmond to check in on Evie at VCU, then headed to Farmville for a date with Ethan at Hampden-Sydney College and to take him shopping for socks and underwear and laundry detergent. And food. She said she loaded him up with food. I imagine he's a happy college camper tonight, even if UCLA is getting pounded in basketball.

She's staying with dear friends of ours in Farmville who live out in the country where on clear winter nights there's a million stars lighting up the sky and a lovely silence. She called me tonight and she's hunkered down in our friends' cabin, on a mattress in front of a blazing fire with her Bible and no little boys asking for chocolate milk or saying they need to go potty or arguing over toys. She sounded so happy.

Life here in the Sabo house with 11 kids present and accounted for is surprisingly smooth. Maybe it's not surprising from the standpoint of I have a crack crew of older kids who help out. Everyone got dinner, I believe some brushing of teeth took place, there are little kids in actual pajamas asleep in their beds, I said nighttime prayers ... there's checks all over the night duties checklist.

We'll see what tomorrow -- er, later today actually -- holds. I'm enjoying the quiet, but I admit I'm wishing I had a fire to fall asleep in front of in a cabin surrounded by silence beneath a starlit sky. I'm happy for Julie.

*Miracles happen every day.

DIY & Men With Power Tools. Is That A Good Thing?

The cornercinderblock is an essential element to a solid shed.

It started out innocently enough. I identified a need. I wanted to help. I thought I could contribute. So I opened my mouth. Gulp.

Have you ever offered your services out of a sense of compassion and then realized that you might be the least-qualified person to help? Welcome to my world. A few months ago I was talking to a young woman in our fellowship at Calvary Chapel Gloucester and she mentioned how she was building a shed and it wasn't going so well. So I offered to help. Naturally, I don't know the first thing about the proper manufacture of a sturdy shed. I very likely specialize in the manufacture of non-sturdy sheds. But that didn't stop me from offering to help.

I had a good heart. I was sincere in my effort to help ... yet I was very likely in over my head when I said those fateful words: "I can help finish your shed." Still, let's be honest here. I'm not a guy with totally soft hands. I've gotten a little dirt under my nails in the past. I once had calluses. There's been sightings of blisters after an honest day's work. The truth is, I've got some construction in my background. I've worked on houses we've remodeled in the past. I have a Skilsaw. I've pounded nails. I have a 4-foot level. Dude, I've got a Sawzall. Not to mention a manly sledgehammer I've wielded enough times that it's earned the nickname, "Sister Sledge." With that kind of resume I set out to finish this shed.

The first thing I did was recruit help from guys in our church. This was very strategic. I was hoping I'd get some guys who actually had been around the block with a shed, so to speak. I casually mentioned I could use a little help and miraculously came up with some volunteers. Of course, almost half of the "volunteers" happened to be two of my sons who were notified on rather short notice that they were volunteering. But that's beside the point.

So on a recent Saturday six of us showed up to build a shed. It was my sturdy lads Brenton and Ethan, myself, and my friends and volunteers Michael Goodman, Quinn Moulder and Tius Castor. We figured we'd knock this baby out in no more than a few hours. The structure we're working with is a DIY 10-foot-by-10-foot metal shed that's almost finished. Our job was to build a foundation and floor to put it on, secure it, get it square and finish getting the roof on and the sliding door hung.

No problem right? Well, after four hours, 6 donuts and 6 Gatorades, a trip to Lowe's, some digging, voluminous head scratching and general incompetence, we had managed to get 8 cinder blocks in the ground and level. At this rate, somewhere around the year 2021, or maybe 2022, we might get the shed finished. Hey, building the proper shed that meets all state and federal building codes, while maintaining an OSHA-approved safe work site in an atmosphere of brotherly love is no small task.

Still, we had the slight problem of whether we would finish the shed. Ever. Do we just put it on a concrete slab? Stick to the original plan of securing it to 4x4s on cinder blocks? Maybe pool our resources and hire someone to do it?

Praise the Lord for answered prayers. Over the course of the week my friend Matt Owens, a bona fide/for reals contractor, offered his services once he heard my story. I believe Matt was sent by the Lord. I think at least 5 other guys bear witness to that.

So last Saturday he showed up and boy howdy, did things get rolling. I do have to give a shout out to Ethan at this point. He couldn't make it to our second day of "work" because he was back at Hampden-Sydney College, but he managed to send this helpful text that really got the ball rolling for us: "Don't forget that the fourth wall is just as important as the third, and they hold together better with nails than wood glue." You can see why Ethan was wearing the tool belt the first Saturday and was basically in charge. You can't pay enough for that kind of advice and expertise.

Anyway, I don't know how to describe the amount of shock my buddy Matt seemed to show when we discovered that all 8 blocks we had put in the ground the previous week were level. He couldn't really hide it. But he laid out the plan for us, got us pointed in the right direction and we went to work. Then this happened ...

Shed building 101: The foundation is key

Things started coming together. Fueled by 6 more donuts and 6 more Gatorades and another trip to Lowe's, our crack crew of contractors started putting it all together. Literally. I mean, you couldn't stop us. We were an unstoppable shed-building force. Until we ran out of plywood.

Within a few minutes matter of four hours, we had nearly knocked out an entire shed foundation and floor. The amazing part of this whole thing is that my buddy Matt had to leave after an hour or so to attend to some family duties leaving the five of us alone with power tools and lumber. Let me just say that when you tick off some major miracles in world history, you can mention the parting of the Red Sea, Gideon and his 300 men taking out an entire army, and the five of us nearly completing a level, solid shed foundation and floor with no loss of digits or limbs. Check this photo out:

This is is what a shed-building team looks like

I am honored to be a part of this crew of shed builders from Calvary Chapel Gloucester. And when we finish this shed up -- and I emphasize when, not if -- we cannot wait -- I emphasize cannot wait -- to tackle another one. You've been warned. God bless you all.

Four Things That Happen When The Kids Come Home From College

Taylor proclaims his innocence: "What?"

You can count on four things happening in the Sabo house when our kids come home from college for the weekend. The first thing is that food consumption is taken to the next level. This past weekend, Taylor came home from Berea College in Kentucky since they are on fall break and he brought his lovely girlfriend Bethany Hayes. Then Ethan sauntered over on Saturday from Hampden-Sydney College and stayed the night.

With Taylor and Ethan home, that means the Sabo cafeteria is open pretty much 24/7. I planned accordingly and rented a U-Haul truck to make the obligatory grocery run(s) and received a line of credit from the bank and transformed the garage into a walk-in cooler. (Editor's note: This is non-fiction? Did I miss something or did any of those things you just describe actually happen?) Even then, we cut it a little close judging from the look of the fridge on Monday morning. But a family that eats together (albeit in waves of relentless consumption ... picture the Chinese Army attacking our fridge and you get the idea) is a family that bonds together.

The second thing you can count on when the kids come home is that laughter echoes through the house non-stop. The board games come out after dinner and it's pretty much a laughfest from then until the wee hours of the morning. The laughing only stops when there's a pause for a run on the fridge. On Saturday night they played the "Story Game" and Skyped in Claire from Oregon. It was a riot. Julie was in bed and laughing just at all the laughing. I was laughing even though my beloved UCLA Bruins were playing football on TV and they were losing. That means one thing: It was seriously funny. If you are feeling down and blue, you don't need a shrink. Come on over for game night at the House o' Sabo. You may die of laughter, but at least you'll be happy.

Taylor offers his bestest most sincerest sorry for destroying Brenton's foot

The third thing that occurs is the inevitable massive Sabo v. Sabo ultimate soccer match on the Sabo back yard pitch. The best thing about having like, twenty-five kids (Editor's note: Um, twenty-five? Try fourteen. You really need to quit exaggerating my love ... Author's reply: It's only 14? Seriously? Love you my love.) is that you can have a really solid soccer match in the back yard when the kids come from college. You can even have one when the kids don't come from college! It's a very entertaining affair, complete with copious goal-scoring, lots of laughing and the occasionally fractured leg, er "injury" (Editor's note: Technically it's called "diving" ...) that is a hallmark of world class soccer. Brenton was hurt so seriously in the match he had to be hauled off on a cart, but fortunately he was soon able to resume competitive soccer ran right back onto the field as soon as he hit the sideline. In the end, a good time was had by all, particularly the spectators who nearly busted a gut watching the theatrics that occurred during Brenton's "injury."

Brenton is delicately hauled off the field for his potentially fatal soccer injury

The fourth thing that occurs is that Calvary Chapel Gloucester is very blessed by the guest worship team. Taylor, Ethan and Bethany, joined by Madeline, blessed the fellowship with a wonderful time of worship and praise. One of the highlights of the weekends when the kids come home is that music frequently fills the Sabo house. On Saturday in particular, when the group was preparing the worship set, it was wonderful to sit and enjoy hearing them singing praise songs to the Lord. I am a blessed man. We are a blessed family.

In A Big Family, Communication Is Very Important

Letting people know they are too close to the edge would be a good form of communication.

In a large family, having open lines of communication are very important. For example, say you were on a road trip across the country and made a quick pit stop off of I-80 in Nebraska. It would be very important to have open lines of communication between the passengers and the driver when one of the passengers noticed a brother or sister running out of the restroom and sprinting to catch up as the van headed back out to the endless cornfields freeway. In this case, it would be very important to say something. You know, like let the driver know there's a child left behind. Or maybe something like this: "DAD! STOP THE VAN! WE FORGOT _________ (enter the name of any of 10 children you might have accidentally left behind)!

On any given day in the Sabo house, there might be three dentist appointments, two separate soccer practices, picking someone up from school and dropping that someone off at work, then later picking that person up from work, a shopping trip in order to feed a small army our family, a night Bible study and an emergency late-night run to the store for ice cream. To achieve maximum efficiency in the Sabo house on days like this it requires the ultimate in communication. Husbands, read closely here because what I'm about to say may revolutionize your marriage: The key to communicating with my wife is that I need to "talk" to her. Yes, actual conversation that goes beyond grunts and "yes" or "no" or other primitive forms of male communication. I have discovered that it's often good to "talk" to my wife in the morning to achieve the previously mentioned maximum efficiency. Alas, sometimes I fall short. I still believe Julie has the ability to read my mind and it's not uncommon to get a phone call from her asking what I'm doing. That's usually a good sign that I should be doing something else, which typically involves a matter of importance in the Sabo household. And apparently I believe Julie is not the only person who should be able to read my mind.

On Sunday afternoon I left for Charlotte, N.C., to spend a week long retreat with my co-workers in the Transformational Education Network. I was dropping off Ethan in Richmond on the way so he could pick up his car and head back to Hampden-Sydney College in Farmville, Va. Monday morning got off to a great start with my colleagues until I got a text from one of my kids. Here is the text I got from my 17-year-old daughter Evie: "So mom just told me you went to North Carolina for a week ... I just thought you had decided to stay a night at Farmville when you dropped off Ethan. I asked mom when you'd be back today and she said, 'Oh...about a week.' "

Although I love to communicate with my children by texting, sometimes even when they are in the next room, that was not a text I enjoyed receiving. In fact, I was horrified. I should have my `Dad' card pulled. How did one of my kids not know I was going to be gone for a whole week? I extended my profuse apologies to Evie and am still kicking myself. When I get home I'm going to ground myself. After I make it up to her somehow. Like sharing my calendar with her on Google+ maybe? Would that qualify as good communication?