two and then some

2012-02-18T12:15:00.001-05:00

of the inner landscape

and the number 'n'

Yesterday H and I were making cookies. We were counting out the flour into the bowl.

"One."

"Two."

"And three."

"Three....and don't forget N mom."

"What?"

"Also you told me N."

"Oh, yes." grab a little tiny more flour to put in, "And N."

You know how we all count. 1,2,3,n. Or is it that we do A,B,C,7? What was it again?

Yes this is just H starting to learn how to line things up in the way we line things up here. We have letters and we have numbers and they have orders and patterns and rhythms. These are things we all like and want, things that are the same and that we can count on.

This winter has been bizarre. Too warm, then too cold, Snowstorm two days before Halloween and then nothing but stark grey skies, brilliant (but not comforting) white sunshine for three months now. Its getting under my skin. Its making me feel sad. I don't like warm, when I am expecting cold.

The landscape around me isn't conforming to the landscape of my mind. It isn't lining up-- 1,2,3,n.

You cannot photograph those places--those mental landscapes. They morph and twist in ways that affect my mood and my outlook on the world. Their mood altering abilities are powerful like rushing water, but their shapes are vague, like mist. I love my landscapes. I love to reside in them and see what colors and forms they take on. But sometimes they conflict with the landscape around me.

I imagine Heaven to be a place where the landscapes of the mind and the landscapes of reality align.

A perfect and more amazing formation--a formation that goes beyond our limited ability to be merely linear. 123. ABC.

But for now, with Heaven far away, and my inner landscape humming softly, contentedly, I will not bother with this and instead I will go and

find h.

We have some cookies to eat.

2012-02-16T13:46:00.002-05:00

of everything backfiring

and missing teeth

Poor Bears.

She always tries so hard.

She tried real hard to remove all her front teeth. She's almost done.

She also was trying so hard to break her arm yesterday.

"Mom, did you hear all that noise in my room?"

"Yeah. What was it?"

"It was me. Jumping off the bunk. Trying to break my arm."

Bears cries when I brush her hair, there is no way she'd be able to handle the pain of a broken arm. Not to mention its a generally stupid idea. Both of which I told her.

"But I want to miss school!"

Then, what felt like moments later, there is all sorts of crashing down our wooden steps and I find her, not at the bottom of the steps, but across the family room. She is splayed out, arms and legs akimbo, complaining that she tripped over Daisy going down the stairs. She was carrying a glass cereal bowl and it smashed all over the stairs.

Much to her sorrow, her ankle and wrist were both fine.

Then, at bedtime when Mms was running up the stairs to bed she managed to find the last glass shard that didn't get swept up. She found it in her toe, deep in her toe. There was a great amount of blood and we tried and tried to pull that little fellow out. But alas, we had to wait until when we could take her to the doctor where he uses his magnifying glasses and special tweezers.

We had to wait until the morning, after dropping bears off at school, to take her to the doctor.

Poor Bears.

She always tries so hard.

2012-02-09T22:17:00.001-05:00

of delousing

Just dance,

and some moments without a camera

So, today, I deloused Bears.

There are two particular perks to white blond hair--the way it catches all the rays of the sun like a halo, and the ease of which one can find lice. She didn't have a lot, we caught it early, but I knew this would be one of those--stop. Stop everything and do this one thing right now-events and I have to say, I was really looking forward to it because I meant one on one time with my kids, unrelated to school, household chores, or anything other thing that someone else tells us we have to get done.

And Bears did not disappoint.

She sat with her face in my lap while I applied the shampoo to the base of her hair line and combed through her hair. She yelled muffled questions and thoughts through the towel on my lap about her future.

"MOM! DO YOU THINK I WILL BE A GOOD MOM!"

"Yes, I think you'll be a great mom."

"ME TOO! ITS LIKE I AM BORN TO BE A MOM! BUT MOM?"

"What?"

"WHAT IF I DON'T HAVE CHILDREN. THAT WILL BE THE WORST THING IN THE WORLD!"

"Why is that?"

Here, she pulled her head up, hair turned in all directions and gave me a classic Bear's face.

"BECAUSE, I JUST TOLD YOU! I AM BORN TO BE A MOM!"

It doesn't take long in delousing a child to be sure you also have lice and so while Bears stood on the edge of the tub letting the shampoo work its death magic, looking at herself in the mirror and asking me if she would be popular in high school, I did some preventive delousing of myself. Knock on the door. In comes d.d.

"I need the potty."

This isn't a big bathroom. These two start telling me about the Just Dance Wii that they do sometimes in gym at school and then both Bears and d.d. proceed to dance some of the moves. Bears dancing on the edge of the tub making faces in the mirror. and d.d. dancing while sitting on (ok more like IN) the potty.

I didn't have a camera.

But it was one of the best moments of my life.

Thank you lice.

2012-02-06T12:18:00.002-05:00

M's brother Mark

of a ski trip

Hats off to mimi and papa for watching the kids.

Hats off to Meg and Brent for sharing amazing lodging.

Hats off to M who plans trips I don't have to think about.

I ski too, just not as well.

I'm too busy rocking my helmet with my extra pointy nose.

2012-02-06T12:11:00.001-05:00

of Big C

and big birthdays

and big changes

I've always had a hard time getting photos of this kid. He hides, he covers his face, he runs.

And then oddly enough on his birthday I didn't even bother to take out the camera. But, despite a lack of photos, the event really did happen and he really did turn 10.

10 feels like a really big birthday.

He didn't want a cutsie cake or a theme party, he didn't want a birthday wall of photos, he just wanted three friends over to play Wii. He's just becoming a real full blown kid.

There are a hundred things I love about him. I love how much he still loves to snuggle, I love how sensitive he can be. I love how he gets totally lost in his own world. I LOVE how much he rocks on the drums (really its amazing how good he is). But I think what I love about him the most is that he is just very busy always being himself. Setting small goals for himself (reading all seven books of Harry Potter seven times) or (not cutting his hair until summer so he has "big hair in the winter and no hair in the summer).

I just love to watch him become who he is.

Happy birthday big C.

2012-02-06T12:03:00.002-05:00

of a happy birthday to

mr. perfect

Its fair to say this guy is perfect.

He's got the perfect attitude, the perfect disposition, the perfect grumpy face, the perfect weird faces, the perfect addition to round out all the other personalities on our family.

Two weeks ago he turned three...the end of diapers is near, the end of bottle parenting (don't knock it!) began last night and the end of little guys in general is fast approaching.

Its been great to end on such a good note.

Happy Birthday h.

2012-01-24T14:27:00.003-05:00

of that feeling,

a car, dinner

and more to come

You know that feeling?

It is the one where you spend a certain amount of time preparing for something. It can be a long trip or just getting ready for a night out. You talk, you prep, you make dinners, you kiss people goodbye, you drive away. And then in what feels like four seconds...its all over, and you are back. As if it had never happened.

I hate that feeling.

And yet I wonder if that feeling will be the one that accompanies us on the other side. When we finish this life at 50 years or 60 or 80 or whatever it ends up being, will we stand over there and say,

"That was it? Its like it never happened!"

I am thinking about this, not because I feel like I am going to die, but because we have been talking (not very seriously) about possibly getting a new car and I made dinner.

The car discussion had stalled with me not wanting a 12 passenger van and the kids saying they didn't want a Surburban.

"Well, those are really our only choices guys. There arn't many options when you need a lot of seats," I said.

"What about that car?" Bears said pointing out the car window, at a limo.

"Um, ok. It has enough seats, it can't be any more expensive than a Surburban. Should we look into getting one of those?"

That was the only option that brought on cheers from everyone.

Many days later I made dinner.

"Whats that smell?" d.d.

"Its dinner. BBQ pork."

"Oh. It smells disgusting. Can you please not make us disgusting food!" He walks away raising his hand with one pointer finger extended, "I'll have apples and peanut butter!"

I love these exchanges. I love these knucklheads. I love working with idiots. (I mean that in a really endearing way).

All these moments feel like they are slipping. All these happy moments that seem to have been built on the prep work of uncomfortable pregnancies, busy jobs, sleepless nights, and tantrums are now slipping and slipping into the realm of, "That was it? Its like it never happened."

It is a nice feeling to be on this end. Certainly it isn't over but it feels more a part of me than it ever had before. Sometimes we say of passing experiences that we have our memories. But for someone like me, who doesn't have a memory, what I have is the person these experiences have made me into. I like this person.

And I like that, this isn't it. There's still a lot more to come.

And hopefully everything that's coming, will be coming (and going)

in a limo.

2012-01-14T14:30:00.000-05:00

of perfection

big C

I've wanted to post a little about Big C because many posts ago I had mentioned how I was striving to change my attitude towards him.

In many ways I feel like we have Mms, Bears, d.d. and h in a little row and Big C circling around like a satellite, a free radical, a moon. I was trying to think how I wanted to illustrate my feelings and then I saw this state of the 'gingerbread house town' and thought,
"Yeah, that about sums things up."

Guess which one is (what's left of) Big C's?

I have been mulling over perfection. As I watch my face age, my body weaken, our house need repainting, our car an overhauling, out teeth yellowing, it occurs to me, "Why do we even seek after something to be perfect? When perfection isn't really a reality?" (at least not in my world) It is easy for me to get caught up in the physicality of perfection. Where does that desire come from?

So for months now I am been making a point of approaching Big C with the things I love about him. He's a terribly sweet child, he just is slow and easily distracted, and still can't seem to get that he too, has to get up, e.v.e.r.y. morning for school like e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e else.

But what I have noticed is the perfection of virtues. What I have been touched by, what has moved me in a new direction of my life is to know, that touchable perfection is in virtues (love, patience, forgiveness, generosity) we seek to apply to one another.

I will never be perfect at them.
I have been perfectly touched by them.

Thanks Big C.

2012-01-11T12:30:00.002-05:00

of what to do with children

and their siblings

and also real quick, our heater broke

This photo is a representation of the beginning. It wasn't the beginning. The beginning was earlier in a semi-hurried dash from the house, to drive two hours, after a morning basketball game, to go skiing as a family. The adventure had been underway for 15 minutes when there was blood. D.d. was affronted by his brother who tried to take a toy. Because d.d. has always struggled with words he used his magnetic board and wolloped h in his little baby nose.

Blood down his face. Blood on big C's favorite comfy sweatshirt (the nearest item).

Doesn't blood just scream "family time"?

"I just don't want to go now," M said.

"Nope, lets go. We've managed to hit rock bottom right at the beginning of this outing and so we can only go up from here," I responded.

Sometimes I assume that because all my children have blond hair and a similar button nose and blue eyes that they automatically have the right combination of genes that will unite them in never-ending bond of friendship. But golly, like everything else, that takes work.

It was worth it. It was a fun day skiing with little kids who are good skiers. It was sweet to see Mms take care of h, putting him in his boots, cheering him on. It was hysterical to let Mms lead the way past all the smoking, cussing, snowboarding teenagers, and have her fart (loudly) and without the slightest hint of embarrassment yell,

"Follow me! Just follow the smell!"

It was fun to see them wait for each other at lift lines and follow each other down the twists and turns of man-made snow. It was a fun car ride up where we just told stories for two hours.

It finally got cold here. And our 50 year old heater who had been limping along for the past few years finally gave up the ghost. We had two or so days of no heat other than space heaters--and it brought home to me how much I better understand warmth when I am surrounded by the cold.

How much I appreciate the laughter and helpfulness

when we are passed the blood. (and the stink)

will someone please give Bears some teeth?

2012-01-10T13:41:00.003-05:00

time and toes

Mm's lately has been extrapolating small problems of her's into professions of complaints at the universe as a whole. After church on Sunday when she realized she still had some homework and a project to work on and a mere ten hours till bed time she exclaimed through tears and wailing,

"I HATE TIME!"

She's been also known to exclaim after tripping while walking upstairs,

"I HATE STAIRS!"

"I HATE MY TOES!"

"I HATE HAVING FEET!"

She does trip going up the stairs rather a lot.

But back to the big guns. Time.

I think I hate time too. I hate how it rules me from morning till night, and then through the night and then my age and then my calendar and then, and then, and then...it does touch everything with long grey fingers slowly stroking away all the things we are or want or hope for. Yes. I too hate time.

You may think that we are very social when I say our December was very busy. Three Christmas parties in one week! Class parties and baking and buying and all the same things everyone else is doing that month. I looked over our December calendar and my small list on the side where I write everything I want to get done and I realized--"Well that looks terrible, what a busy, busy month."

So we moved things around. And last night for FHE we decorated gingerbread houses! What?! I know wild huh! On sale at Michael's for what? $2.99! Amazing! Look who is in control now Time! You can't force us to do all our merry making in one month, you beast. In your face. It was completely delightful. It was fun. It was stress free, it made January feel that much more festive (because, hey, January isn't festive at all).

We were Merry. We were Bright.

And time, for one tiny, little moment lost.

And Mms and I won.

Now we just need to see what we can do about our toes and feet.

2012-01-05T13:28:00.002-05:00

Happy New Year

here's to an already nice start to 2012.

And by nice start I mean the laundry is done.

2011-12-13T11:04:00.002-05:00

of it was an honor just being nominated

or 57,000 words

a pre-farewell to laundry

I haven't been blogging like I like to, but that doesn't mean I haven't been writing.

In fact, I just finished my... very. first. book. It needs some tweeking. It needs Ann and Christie's overhaul, but it is done. It is 57,000 words and the most important part right now, is that I like it.

I can't lie.

I'd love for this to sell, to be a best seller, to make us enough money that M can be a stay at home dad I and I can be the major bread winner (he'd do a much better job, and especially he'd have to do all the laundry) but I can honestly say that it just feels crazy to have finished it. A personal goal, large, looming hanging around like a late party guest, was finally finished. I guess that's how it feels to just be nominated for something. It feels good to do something you've always wanted to do, even it may not go anywhere from here.

But lets hope it does.

I'd like to use this photo and thank M's for expressing how I feel in the overall theme of the book, and I'd like to thank H for expressing my feelings with the opening and closing chapters which need the most work, and I'd like to thank M for always keeping his arm around me and encouraging me in my dreams.

And here's to success. And stay at home dads. And laundry being off my to do list.

2011-12-08T10:34:00.001-05:00

of things to be thankful for

Favorite Cousins

Favorite Sisters

Favorite movies while waiting in the car for parents to finish getting ready

Favorite beautiful aunts

Favorite Photos

Favorite way to have lost the second tooth.

"No, it was only a little loose. But Mm's punched me and it came out!"

2011-11-01T21:47:00.000-05:00

of something scary

From left to right:

1. Neighbor's Halloween baby Pumpkin offering

2. I don't know

3. Zombie pirate (because pirate wasn't enough)

4. Harold and the Purple Crayon

5. Ninja? (again!) or is it jazzer-size? And I'm not saying here on the world wide web that that is an elastic band from his brother's underwear that he cut off 10 minutes before going out. I didn't say that.

6. Zombie pirate #2--an epidemic

7. Harold and the Purple Crayon #2 (what's going on here!)

One of our neighbors, who happens to be a DJ, puts out her equipment and this great bubble machine that sends out one gazillion bubbles at one time. D.D was able to get most of them with his crayon.

The audio that the camera missed was,
"Hey guys just hold up your crayons for me to take a picture of."
"I'm holding mine up for FREEDOM!"
Freedom from what?
And that's just how H stood for a few moments. After the photo was taken.

Nothing is scarier than the love of a two year old.
In Daisy's opinion.

When all is said and done there's nothing else to do but put that empty candy bowl on your head and call it a night.

2011-10-31T21:10:00.000-05:00

of salt and pepper cooking,

freaking crazy

and owning it

I can't really say that I cook anymore.

I used to. I used to give it a valiant effort every otherish night, but now, its all over. My cooking is so simple that it can't even be called cooking. I cut up vegetables and present them in the manner nature created them. I'll butter bread. I'll cook some meat. I only need salt and pepper and butter and I'm good.

Everyone eats. Everyone eats healthily. Everyone is happy.

Perhaps you've been bored to tears hearing how picky my kids can be. Well this is what its come to...dinners of lettuce only 'salads', apples and peanut butter and for dessert chocolatechip-LESS chocolatechip cookies.

I had a dream of being a great cook. I love food as much as the next person, but this is what works for our family. In a day and age where great cooking and food and amazing recipes and blah, blah, blah are going crazy--this family is just stepping aside and eating pasta. Plain.

And then there was this lady, she didn't say freaking. In fact she used the full blown bomb right in front of me and her own 8 year-old (which explains why said 8 year old is the one who taught that dainty little word to my kids) when she saw that we had a dog.

Yes. 5 kids. and now a dog.

No, I am not ******* crazy, thank you.

I am just making choices for my own family, and for our own life and despite the annoyances that follow any and all situations, I am owning it. I am no longer fretting that being a great cook like my mom is not my path in life. I am not fretting that because you can't handle your two kids without full time help, doesn't me I can't handle my five plus the world's (so far) most awesomest dog.

I have wanted to post for a long time that picking your 'dream' in life (America's favorite story line) isn't really the narrative---making whats fallen into your lap your dream is the real narrative. Owning whatever form your life takes, and reowning it, and owning it every other Thursday again, is the story.

And owning a dog,

is also the story.

Because she's amazing and so far----eats

everything.

2011-10-23T19:33:00.001-05:00

of what I would like,

such as magic

I'd like to write.

But I'm too busy cleaning.

I'd like to compose something fancy about this neat-o photo of the sky and how beautiful it is, with little bits of light falling down like strands of hair--

but I have to clean.

Cleaning is the worst thing on the planet because you want it SOOOOO much--

But there is no magic wand.

And kids, all five of them, have no magic in them except to magically bring

chaos

to where there once was order.

I have a book to finish. It sits on my brain like a layer of dust---soon it will be easily brushed away--

its easy to clean my memory.

Two days ago I had lots to clean, but I wanted to write and so I did use a magic wand.

I turned out all the lights in the house (Poof! Mess gone!) and

wrote by the light

of my computer screen.

That was magical.

2011-10-13T08:56:00.000-05:00

of speaking of things,

count,

or how to raise d.d.

H counts 1, 4, 5.

I'm not going to correct this. I'm also not going to correct him when he tells me he has 80, 90, 2, 4, 6 teeth. (He does have a lot of teeth though).

I'm good at telling my kids what they should change and

I am really working at telling them all the things they are doing well (with a very creepy smile of course).

I have hit on something that is working wonders. For any 'system' in our house it has to be basic, simple, repeatable. Lately, d.d has been swinging on his pendulum of behavior but I think I've figured out how to ground him.

He has a chart on the fridge that every time he does something good, or whenever the other kids see him do something good, he puts a star on the chart. Apparently he is very motivated by the star--because that's it. No reward when the whole thing is done, nothing to work for but stars.

What I have noticed though is that it really causes me and him and the other kids to verbally notice when he is being good and the result is, don't tell him, but he's being really good.

It is amazing.

We went through and counted all the stars on his chart (46) and it was a shock to him to see that he was so good, a shock to me as well.

One day soon he'll have 80, 90, 2, 4, 6 stars,

at least.

2011-10-11T20:53:00.001-05:00

of happy smiling people

Some people have happy smiling faces, and some people look like me.

I'm pretty sure Bear's managed to capture my main face. It's that one. That one right there that's telling her to try and hold the camera straight and not press really hard on the shutter.

It's that one that says, "Oh no, you forgot your lunch again!", "Why aren't you in bed yet?", "Please don't hit him.","Where are my keys!?", "What is going on here?"

But mainly what I am concerned about, as I make this same face here at the computer, is that I just don't smile enough. I'm not a smily person. But, without setting a goal here, I am going to start to smile more. So far these have been the reactions to my smily faces,

"Mom, are you ok?"

"You're scaring me."

"Don't do that."

Of course, I'm trying to ease into this smiling face and lots of times what comes out is a joke/weird face--because apparently its easier to be a werido then it is to just smile. What's wrong with me?

But if you see me soon, remind me to smile at you. I'll try not to look too weird.

2011-10-03T21:11:00.003-05:00

of being their own selves

I am thinking of sending this one to a circus camp next summer. They have one, a real circus camp right in the middle of Philadelphia.

"What do you hope that accomplishes M? That it will lead her to joining the circus?"m

No.

I guess I don't want her in the circus per se, but I want to see her doing all the things she's good at. She's got ropes hanging from our tree that she has jimmy-rigged into, I don't know what, but it looks like cirque-de-sole---and I love it.

I love watching them be themselves. I struggle with it to. I struggle with personality traits that are different from mine and striving to genuinely appreciated them--guide them, and direct them.

d.d. has gotten two T marks from school (T is for time out).

Offense 1) biting Larry

Offense 2) letting kids pick him up by arms and legs after he had been told not to

And today at pick-up,

"Mom, d.d. punched a boy in car line," bears.

Fantastic.

d.d is like dealing with a pendulum. He's all at one end (loving, good, kind), but already on his way to the other (biting, punching) and then on his way back again.

-- I just can't seem to pin him down yet.

Maybe he should go to the circus camp.

2011-09-30T12:34:00.001-05:00

of not keeping goals,

finding a place

I have always loved how there is such a natural desire to find your place. My kids are always carving out spaces for themselves. Their space in the car, in front of the TV, forts outside, at friend's houses--everywhere they go is a desire to make themselves comfortable, perhaps in control in someway.

I love to watch this because I have yet to out grow this idea. I make my house my own, my outfits, the people I chose to surround myself with--its all very purposeful, its all meant to make me feel happy, comfortable, in tune with who I am.

So as I get older I am finding the gap between who I am and who I want to be narrows, I find that I understand better how to accomplish what I want to accomplish and one of the things I have discovered is an utter, deep hatred of goals.

There. I said it.

Mormons love goals. We are always setting them. 7 habits of highly effective people (mormon)--we've made whole industries out of it.

But me, I hate them. I can't keep them. I don't like them. They get me down. I try to make them simple, some success but mainly they don't jive with the flow of who I am---

I was thinking about why we like goals and what they do for us. I think its the b, c, d, e, f, g, and h's personality type trying to turn themselves into the A type. And for me, that's just not going to happen. I realized also we set goals to accomplish things and so I started listing things I've accomplished WITHOUT one goal ready----here it comes.....

graduated high school and college

learned a second language

a marathon, tri-athalon, bi-athalon, century, 5K's, 10ks, half marathon

travel

1/4 of the way through my first novel (thank you ann!!)

5 kids

piano

home management

and a whole host of other silly things that mean only something to me...but I've done this all without waking up every morning at 6am and being regimented. I've done it all with just trying and trying and trying again. For me, I've found a place. A place that says that someone else's idea of how to do something is great, meaningful, and effective---but not necessarily for me.

And that's just fine.

(sorry sara--the family fitness challenge did inspire this post, but it got me writing again! thanks!)

2011-09-26T20:10:00.002-05:00

of blogging

Something has happened to me lately, I don't know what it is, but it is keeping me from writing this blog. I turned 35 last week and wrote and rewrote four different posts and trashed everyone.

I had a great experience today with d.d. that I would love to share but I just can't seem to sum things up. Have I lost my blogging groove? Is it over for me? Am I done? At 35 have the creative juices dried up? Will I be forced to spend all my free time cleaning and organizing?

Hopefully this is just a little lull, hopefully I'm not down and out, hopefully I will be able to come up for air again.

2011-09-13T13:15:00.001-05:00

of what to do with your

spoils

I stole a gift idea from one of my great sister-in-laws.

For d.d.'s birthday I made him a basket of "working things." Rope, clamps, tape measurer, bundgy cord--this is a simple man who loves three things-- 1) stuffed dogs and 2) things for making things for trapping people.

"Mom today, after soccer lets go home and use my working things to make a booby trap and catch big C."

"Ok, buddy, that sounds like fun. What will you do with him after you catch him."

"Um, after I catch him in my booby trap lets put him on your boobies and then you will have three boobies."

"Oh. That's odd."

"Then you can have three boobies and you can tape things to them for catching friends."

"Ok. That's odder."

And 3) boobies.

2011-09-13T13:07:00.000-05:00

of one little monkey

So now the days are filled with this guy.

He "needs" a lot of things.

"I need go to Schaul's house."

"I need Emi come to my house fatch maxruby."

"I need go chuck-cheessess."

"I need listen B B B B B B B B B101."

"No, I need play fith dis baby, baby, baby one."

"No, honey you don't need to play with the little mustard bottle."

"Why?"

"Cause we don't play with mustard."

"Oh."

2011-09-09T22:44:00.001-05:00

of fake letters with

factual ideas

Dear Mom,

We know that for the past five years you have been telling us to go to bed.

We understand "go to bed" to have various meanings in the English language.

It can mean, "begin fake music concert."

It can mean, "tell lies to your sister so she can't sleep."

It can mean, "begin rearranging furniture."

We know that you tell us repeatedly to go to bed. But mainly what we hear from you is blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Please don't take offense to this, mainly we are really having a lot of fun with each other so that in the future we will have plenty of memories of the nights with out lights out, poorly singing Taylor Swift songs, while we tickle each other and move chairs and tables across the wood floor.

And no one, not even you, will remember your annoyance over this matter. But everyone, especially you, will appreciate two sisters that have a real--deep--and lasting friendship.

love,

Mms and Bears

2011-09-06T20:33:00.000-05:00

I am only posting to say that there is a kid in d.d.'s class named Larry.
A kindergartner named Larry.
Larry.

2011-09-01T15:37:00.000-05:00

of select words

d.d. has always been a man of few and select words.

His 5th birthday, his first loose tooth and his first day of kindergarten all happened on the same day.

Of his birthday, "I just can't believe I'm 5."

Of his loose tooth, "Great, now I can catch the tooth fairy."

Of the three whole minutes he spent with his new teacher, "I love her."

I miss him more than I thought I would. While technically Bears is our middle child, d.d. acts more like a middle child with his reservedness or annoyance (depending on his mood). Today I got a little more info out of him. Apparently it was the worst day ever because he fell off the monkey bars, and he doesn't understand why all the tables in his class are named after colors. But most interesting of all was this very casual comment,

"I sit next to a girl with yellow eyes. (insert long pause) Well I guess she's a werwolf or something."

I guess she must be.

2011-08-31T20:35:00.000-05:00

of growing, school and my own

"Terrible Awful"

So, second day of school and I'm pretty sure I drank toilet water today.

I'm just not on my game like I used to be. I'm not mentally running simultaneously with the the five other brains that can occupy my house.. Those four are gone. d.d. started kindergarten (I was so much sadder than I thought I'd be) and the other three are off and running.

So today, while my guard was down, H offered me a drink of water while I was typing on the computer. It wasn't until after I swallowed that it became apparent that his ability to get water is limited to only a handful of places. I rinsed out several times. I also had to dig through our trash today...but enough about me.

I can't believe big C is so big. Really he isn't big, but I can't believe that he's actually gotten bigger and that this has happened by his diet of dried cereal. I can't believe how on the ball my kids are, how much they only need me to fill in the blanks. They are full grow-ing people. I really feel like I am reaping from my labors right now. They solve problems, they discuss, they think, they make jokes, they are full of ideas, like how to keep the car doors on the Suburban shut while we are driving because the car doors on the Suburban won't shut---they are concerned about our mini-van (a poor victim of a random tornado) and when and where we will need to go to pick it up.

The best part of all though was how happy our kids were to go to school. This has not always been the case (we have too great a time here at home digging through trash and drinking toilet water apparently) and it was such a cool breeze to hear them all say how much they enjoyed school. Hallejuah!

Life goes on.

2011-08-31T09:08:00.000-05:00

of vacation

Because even as a child I thought too hard about things and I remember vividly not getting the point of a relaxing vacation. I guess everyday felt something like a vacation back then, nor did I have the regular stresses of adult life and so I didn't completely get the joy of what it means to be stress free.

But now I do. OH boy, now I do.

Thank you to good friends who included us on their anniversary trip to Nor. Cal where M (my most favorite companion) and worry (my least favorite companion) switched paths. Instead of spending my day fighting off worry and his useless presence, I got to spend some great travel hours and bike riding miles with M.

We missed a hurricane but came back to a flooded basement. We missed an earthquake but came back to a crack in our back walk. We missed some time with our kids but had some great time together and reaffirmation that a marriage is a pretty fantastic place to feel loved and encouraged, hopeful and energized.

2011-08-21T21:51:00.000-05:00

of visitors

I have this annoying habit where I think I know people where ever we go.

What is so lame is that, I don't.

Its just that at this point in my life everyone looks familiar to me.

"Did I go to high school with that person?"---nope, stranger.

"Wasn't that my neighbor?"---nope, stranger.

"Is that my cousin?"---nope, stranger.

We keep a trash bin outside our back door. Every now and then we have a visitor. It used to be a possum, who looked A LOT like, d.d.

Lately, its been a raccoon, who looks A LOT like h.

Or, maybe I went to high school with either the possum, or the raccoon.

Hard to tell.

2011-08-04T14:55:00.000-05:00

of expectations

in truth

For almost a year we have been reading all the books in the Chronicles of Narnia.

We read scriptures and go to church each week.

We are also listening to Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief in the car.

We have sort of been overdosing on the God idea lately, and its been amazing. Reading Narnia to my kids has been one of the biggest highlights of my parenting. The four oldest come into our bedroom with a quite activity, legos, coloring, messing with my jewelry, doing my hair etc. (this one is my favorite quiet activity) while I read to them. The stories have been great--but it is the discussion that is the best.

Big C, Bears and Mms have now transitioned into mental beings. No longer do they spurt out every thought and question and comment but rather engage in their own mental dialogue. They are not just robots repeating what they are told. They are humans, with minds, with questions and with a natural desire to understand. I love how they have caught onto the symbolism of Narnia and been able to take away the ideas of love and truth and devotion.

What has amazes me though, since we are reading/listening to a lot of fiction with a lot of truth smattered throughout is their ability, to sort through this. Lots of times, with each of these different stories they will ask me questions about what is real and what is not and I usually turn the question back to them, "What do you think?" They will pause, chewing on their own question and then respond is such a sweet and perfect way.

It isn't because they are necessarily amazing, but it is because truth is amazing. Truth seems to be lodged deep within each of us. It is our own personal compass that can be smashed and messed up by ourselves all we want, but ultimately it will still always lead us right, when we let it. We are dark little creatures here, looking for pinpoints of light,
and they are out there.
Always, always out there.
And lots of times, they are tucked down inside us as well,
little gifts from birth.

2011-08-03T08:59:00.000-05:00

back before H

of one million

Do you know what I am tired of?

I am tired of a million.

I am tired of that number.

I am tired of a million song choices, a million book choices, movie choices, I am sick to death of a million dollars and the million people who are either starving, displaced, wearing silly bands or buying tickets to Tangled. No one number is overused, misused lost all meaning to me as much as a million.

I guess it just shows my disabilities in math that if you get past the number 7, I am toast.

Ultimately though I just like the number one. I like one good husband and one good friend nearby, one big C, one Mm's, one Bears, one d.d and one H.

I like the one slug the kids picked up this morning for a pet, I like one little house and one minivan that feels like my house with wheels. I like one new mattress (no more back pain, a miracle!) I'd like to do one simple thing in life and be sure that I love it all the way through. I like one day of shopping and one day of chores. I'd like to have one dog, one horse and a falcon (just seems like a handy thing to have).

Paring things down to ones is one thing I like to do. I makes me feel in control and that this world of millions and billions and trillions really isn't all that overwhelming for me and my brood. That really a million

its just a bunch

of little ones

all lined up.

2011-07-24T22:41:00.001-05:00

of sub-par parenting,

101

Sometimes people tell me they think I'm an amazing parent. I have noticed this primarily has come from people who don't actually see me parenting. There is an audible silence (yes, indeed silence has a sound) from people who do see me parenting.

Nevertheless I've come up some tricks and an old one, that I'd like to pass on. To those searching for easier, less meaningful ways to parent.

Old trick--bottle parenting.

Kid crying? Give'm a bottle.

Kid hungry? Give'm a bottle.

Bedtime? Where's that bottle?

Happy? How about a bottle?

Its an easy, easy method for accomplishing what needs to be accomplished. I could still do this with Bears (age 6) but I have to draw the line somewhere (age 5 1/2) (just kidding) (really, I am).

New trick--kids bickering in the backseat of the car.

Think of a donkey. You know how they make that sound Hee-haw! Take off the Hee and just utilize the Haw. Make it a little nasally, make it a deep Haw and make it last a long time. I have tried to help my kids sort out the ever pressing global issues of "stop kicking my seat," "No, I'm looking out this window!""They are bothering me, I want to sing!" to ZERO avail.

Lets face it parents, sibling bickering is fundamentally stupid, and all our sound logic is wasted on them. So I tried the Haw. Once they start in on the stupid problems they have, bringing the Satanic Demons of Annoyance and Frustration into the car, just start making that noise. Don't solve their problem. Just Haw. Loudly, Stupidly. Make a silly face. That's what I do. Make no explanation for why you are making an irritating noise. Just make it and make it loud.

They will think you are crazy. You will have a great time. It will be funny and thats when the magic happens. They forget their stupid arguments. They are confused, thrown off balance, unaware of what is happening to their mother and then this, this is when you have the upper hand.

New Trick--small squirt gun, tucked in bra

So yes, this does fulfill a bizarre desire I have to carry a real gun in my bra. I think its because I am short, I what to know that I will still have the upper hand. Never the less. Perhaps you have children with whom you have these types of exchanges,

"Mom can I have a candy?"d.d.

"No, you can't. You already had one and its almost dinner. You can have one for dessert."

"Mom can I have a candy?"

"Honey I already said no and I told you why."

"But mom I want to have one."

"I realize that. But you can't. Please stop asking."

"But mom. I want to have a candy."

In the past this is where I get a little annoyed because I am also making dinner, telling H to go to the potty and probably also on the phone. But now, replace annoyance with a shot of water to the face.

I just turn my back to d.d. remove my weapon, turn back around, shot him and then back around again.

"Mom where did that come from!?" Candy issue skirted.

"I don't know! Crazy!"

Also I just use it to shot the kids if they decide they don't want to listen to me. So far, its been great. Want to up the anti--tell them the water is from the toilet.

Ahhhh, good times.

2011-07-24T22:41:00.000-05:00

of where my photos have been

I get a lot of inspiration to write from the photos I take and alas, for the last little while my Rebel has been limping along. So I got myself a new camera which is AMAZING. I love it. Its a Sony, cross between a point and shoot and an SLR. The body is small like a point and shoot but it has a removable lens. Its also been a great teaching camera.

Enjoy some beach photos!

Family Reunion take 1

S 1

Mms

Trevor, dominating pool basketball

"Yeah, you laughing at my uddies? Bring it!"

P.S. this is the moon.

Many cousins and one Mormor

A modern Potato Sack race (who owns potato sacks?)

Family Reunion take 2

Crab hunting

Stair Jumping

Hot Tubbing

Uncle Chucking

family photo taking

and d.d., swimming in his church shorts

2011-07-18T12:16:00.000-05:00

so far

So far this summer has actually not been, busy.

I think I am the only woman of the 21st century that hates busy. I hate it. I hate rushing, I hate calendars filled to the brim, I hate timelines, deadlines... I love the idea of filling your days as they come. I wrestled with how much to schedule my kids for the summer, knowing that I wouldn't like driving them to camps, swim team etc. all summer and instead of paying out the nose for other's to entertain my kids we have been doing...Family Camp!!!

Family Camp is great. Family camp means getting up and reading in the morning, doing some chores and then heading to the pool to swim. Then depending on the day we are, crafting, or going to a creek or tubing, or bike riding or coming home and watching Cars 2 or making cookies but dang it! whatever we do we're labeling it Family Camp.

Right now Family Camp has traveled a few hundred miles south to relocate at the beach and enjoy Extended Family Camp--first with my family and now with M's, all at the same beach (so handy). We have been getting our fill of cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and except for the times when people complain, fight, or ruin something in the beach house, it has been pretty fantastic.

2011-06-20T21:20:00.000-05:00

of loving,

it all

Sunday morning big C woke up an hour later than everyone else.

He complained when he came downstairs that all the good cereal was gone--"Yes, it was eaten, an hour ago."

Then he went and changed out of his pjs and sat down at the table, begrudgingly to a bowl of Honey-nut Cheerios and began eating and reading his scriptures (and by scriptures I mean Calvin and Hobbes).

Then he turned, oddly (I'm still not sure how this happened) and landed his whole elbow into his bowl of unwanted Cheerios and spilled it all down the front of his shorts.

"AHHHHH!" he moaned and his face pruned up into that of a torture victim. "These were my last clean pair of shorts!"

"Um, big C, you're wearing your sister's shorts."

"WHAT!? But they were in my bucket!"

"Yeah, but they're clearly girl's shorts."

I have learned to love this about him.

I used to get all pruned up in the face about him and how slow he moves and how he's always 15 steps behind everyone else (who else do you know goes on a two hour car ride to New York City and realizes, when we get there, that he forgot his shoes--ps, it was winter) his absentmindedness, his inability to see things that he's...holding etc., etc., etc. And these days I just eat this up about him.

Its easy to love the easy in people. Its easy for me to love big C because he's very affectionate and emotive. He's very helpful and has a strong desire to be good and do good. He's generally a sweet older brother and his way of getting interested in things (legos, calvin and hobbes, wii, etc.) is contagious.

But I am surprised at how much I have enjoyed more learning to love what I find challenging in him.

I have learned that in my effort to be a good mother I can't beat the 'right' into my kids with criticism or constantly reminding them (although at times it has place) but that a good mother shows first that she loves all aspects of her child, that she embraces them, that she cares for them and that her love truly is conditioned on simply a desire to love completely, come what may.

When I embrace this with big C or any of my other kids then our relationship unfolds and grows in a more pleasing manner to both of us. We handle ups and downs with laughter instead of frustration. We are more affectionate, I find that they are more forgiving of me and my annoyances, my forgetfullness or my lack of clean laundry.

It is challenging. It is harder with some kids than with others, but I am amazed that the more I walk in this direction, the more I actually enjoy it. The more I realize my efforts are in a direction of value and of real reward. And the reward is the sweet, ever growing, ever giving constant of love---spreading out in all directions. Covering me like spilled

milk

on a Sunday morning.

In my sister's shorts.

2011-06-15T14:36:00.000-05:00

of creativity?

Sometimes I think of my kids as creative.

(note their drawings that were picked for the district art shows)

Other times weird.

(note Mm's "candle walks" where she likes to wander around the backyard at night with a lit candle in a holder)

And other times just dumb. There is a labradoodle (for those not interested in dog breeds this is a labrador and poodle mix, hypoallergenic dog) that comes to our park. This is a tall light colored dog, with short moderately curly hair. It is quite a presence as it meanders around the park and its name is...

Tammi.

Tammi? Your dog's name is Tammi? This is a really dumb name for a dog in my opinion. But Big C insists that he loves it and when we get a dog he wants to name it Tammi.

Yesterday d.d informed me that his baby lion cub stuffed animal was named...Jackie. Like the girl name, even though he's a boy stuffed lion, although I am not sure how we are able to tell this fact of the stuffed lion.

And bears named her stuffed panda...Pam.

I just imagine Tammi, Jackie and Pam all wandering around (although stuffed animals are rather stationary, but work with me here) in their ugly eighties neon sunglasses and shiny stretch pants doing dances to Madonna inspired workout songs.

From now on I am outsourcing the kid's pet naming responsibilities.

Outsourcing it to, me.

2011-06-08T07:46:00.000-05:00

of love motions, squirrels &

new traditions

This week began our summer i.e. school is OUT!

Mm's wanted to begin our summer with a new tradition of burning all the school work/workbooks they brought home. I figured it either all went into recycling or we made s'mores from its heat so we set them ablaze! Or tried too any way, there was a certain waxy smell coming from some of the worksheets.

On the way home from their last day of school M and I were talking in the front seat and bears shouted,

"Are you having Love Motions!?"

Love motions? Um, yuck.

"Bear's what are love motions?"

"Its when two people start talking really quietly, then one of them starts to cry, and then they kiss."

I have a few thoughts on this comment.

1. I like how she has associated comforting someone as a form of love

2. We truly are being watched

3. I wish M didn't cry so much. ;-)

Then, even before school started on that last fateful day d.d. informed me that he had had ANOTHER scary dream.

"Mom, my favorite blanket, my white fuzzy one, was stuck on the power line outside the house. And then, a squirrel took it." the end.

Flames, love motions, and thieving squirrels.

Summer rocks.

2011-06-01T15:05:00.001-05:00

of contagious illnesses

A few years ago M and I started to notice this strange pattern.

If he was feeling down I was feeling up. If I was feeling up he was feeling down. It didn't happen constantly but it happened enough that sometimes if I was having a particularly good day I would call him to make sure he wasn't feeling down.

Anyway, I've been noticing this in the kids as well. There will be a string of days where one kid is just on the fritz. Angry or crying or however they especially like to show their bad emotions rise to the surface almost instantly, and then their mood passes and instead of irradicating the illness they seem to just pass it on to the next sibling.

Last week it was Bears (ok honestly its been Bears for like 4 months--she's taking a hit for the family) almost every day after school total melt down, "But I'm good all day at school and I just can't be good anymore when I get home!!" Then she had field day last week and apparently all she needed was one full day of running in the 90 degree weather with high humidity to set her internal emotional compass right--and then,

down goes,

Mms- grumpy, cranky, moody, irritable (maybe its the heat, maybe its hormones?) "Its just mom that I am not allowed to yell at kids at school like I am allowed to yell at the kids at home!" (apparently she can't get in trouble at school but not at home its ok?--note to self, make bigger deal about when she's in trouble at home.)

Anyway, I am on the look out,

for a vaccine.

For emotions.

2011-05-26T21:42:00.000-05:00

of my social engagements

and pride (but not pride)

This week has been full.

Not busy, but full.

My social calendar has included, a graduation, three concerts, a play, a field trip, a field day and an evening out.

M has been known to ask me lately, "What exactly are the stresses in your life?" This will come when he hears I've been out to lunch with someone or the terrible yet awesome time he unexpectedly came home and caught me taking a nap. In our bed. Under all the covers. Dead asleep. At 9:30am.

"It's Wednesday! My nap day."

But this week has been particularly fantastic watching the kids do their things. Watching musical concerts and being so enormously proud that your kid is clapping in time with the music is only slightly less ridiculous then the time I accidentally cried when big C did his very first eye test at the doctor and got all of them right. 20/20 vision!! Buddy I'm so proud of you! I don't know why but I am!!

But that's it isn't it? That prideful feeling? It shouldn't even be called pride because that word has baggage and negative connotations. But there are no bad feelings you get when you kid manages to do something, lets face it, regular, but because its THEM that are doing it, is so sweet and meaningful. Its the blessing of taking care of another person that you get to experience their accomplishment in its purest form--as just an amazing wonder of growing and becoming.

I was all teary eyed as cute d.d. gave his preschool teachers hugs and accepted his little diploma. I was even more teary eyed as he headed into the hall and put his head in the basketball hoop. He's so great, I thought. Just a great big, doofus.

I couldn't be more proud.

2011-05-19T11:02:00.000-05:00

of what is it

I cannot stand it anymore.

I cannot stand how H says "Fhat?" to me every time I ask him a question.

I cannot stand how he asks "Wer dod do?" 17 times in a row and always responds with a surprised "Oh!" when I remind him he's at school.

I cannot stand his crooked snaggle tooth in the front of his mouth or they way he just reacted to my inquiry of where the diaper he was wearing went.

"Fhat? Um. I no?"

In short, I want someone out there, medical or otherwise to tell me, why I want to squeeze the cuteness out of my kids! Why do I have that feeling of wanting to just squish them to death because they are so lovie and the things they say are soo awesome!?

I know they have it too because I've seen H approach small dogs at the park and squat down and bunch his little hands up into fists and squeeze the fist so hard while he accidentally spits in the dogs face out of excitement.

He wants to squeeze the dog, I want to squeeze him.

It is always, in these situations best for both of us to just walk away.

Or someone's gonna get hurt.

In the name of cuteness.

2011-05-16T20:54:00.000-05:00

of doing it all wrong

The kids got an ear full on the way to the school this morning.

I told them they needed to pick up after themselves better, stop throwing clean clothes into the laundry because they are too lazy to hang them up, stop dropping their shoes everywhere and most importantly quit complaining when they are asked to help out.

Our drive to school is 12 minutes. My speech lasted the whole time.

When they got home big C, mms and bears walked in the door, put their stuff where it belonged and big C proclaimed that they were ready to get to work. (its is this kind of cause/effect that tells me I need to be a meaner mom)

Then while we are all busy away at getting laundry put away, toys sorted etc. Bear's lets me in on a little plan she's concocting.

"Mom, when I become a mom I am going to have set days for my kids where we do specific things each day."

"Oh, yeah, like what?"

"Well, I want it to be on a schedule so they know what is happened each day so,

Monday we'll got to Chuck E Cheese,

Tuesday we'll go to Pump It UP,

Wednesday we'll go swimming,

Thursday we'll go to the mall and I'll buy them four things,

Friday we'll go to the movies."

"Wow."

"And if there is ever a day they don't want to go to one of the things, then I'll hire a babysitter to stay home with the kids who don't want to go. Thats what I want to do. When I'm a mom."

Meanwhile, and totally unrelated, H has gotten "close your eyes," confused with "raise your hand," so right now he's upstairs lying in his bed with his arm raised and both his eyes open.

2011-05-16T12:01:00.002-05:00

of h

Enjoy this as much as we have.

2011-05-05T12:04:00.000-05:00

of spring

Forget daffodils, bunnies and chicks.

"Mom! I found the first slug of spring!" Bears.

Nothing says spring quite like it.

2011-05-04T22:13:00.000-05:00

of nice days,

school lunch

& public saunas

Everyday that big C comes home from school he looks like this. Hair disheveled, shoes mucked up, pants covered in dirt and lunch all over his shirt.

"What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did your lunch attack you?"

"Oh, you mean like in Calvin and Hobbes where one day he's sitting at lunch and this thermos......and then.....and then.....she says, 'that's why this seat is empty!'?"

Blank stare.

"No big C. I mean, what happened to your shirt?"

"Why?"

"Its COVERED in ketchup!"

"Oh, yeah it is."

He's even come home with ketchup on his forehead.

But this little episode was just the frosting on a beautiful cake that was today. Scouts got canceled, I did a craft with d.d., H took a 4 hour nap (second one this week!) and he still went to bed at 6--and more then all the little listable niceities, it was just a happy day.

And to finish the day off I spent sometime in the YMCA's sauna with an overweight Grandmother, sweaty black man, middle aged white man and a pakistani all discussing the killing of a terrorist!

If only I had had ketchup on my swimsuit it would have been not a nice day, but an unbelievable day!

2011-05-03T18:08:00.000-05:00

the humor of gogglie eyes never gets old

of picking, irony &

punishment

So, in the end, it all boils down to if you are a picker or if you are the picked. Every couple I've met seems to have one who likes to pick at things (zits, scabs, peeling skin) and one poor schmo who gets picked.

In our relationship I'm the picker &

everyone is my target.

Bears got a great scrape on her leg while in CA and it was so bad and she freaked out so much about it that she wouldn't let me put sunscreen over it and so it burned on top of being scrapped. Now it is healed and now it is PEELING!!! Oh, I seriously offered her ten dollars (for her college fund of course) if she'd let me pick it. It was a 20 minute drama fest of her trying to decide between two simple choices

(I broke them down for her)

--either no money and no pain or,

--money and no pain

In the end she couldn't be convinced that it wouldn't hurt her at all if she'd let me pick the skin off---so DESPITE the t-shirt she was wearing that said, "Tough Chick" on it, she didn't let me do any picking.

Later in the day my on-again, off-again boyfriend d.d. yelled at me and I told him to go to his room. He stormed up there, slammed the door several times for effect became eerily quite and then reappeared a while later with a full blown apology (we are getting somewhere!).

It wasn't until I went to put H down for bed that I noticed what appeared to be white flowers strewn around his room, crumpled up flowers that, as I got closer and closer, started to resemble paper which started to resemble paper from a book, which ultimately became pages from the BIBLE! Oh no, I do not want to be there when he has to make an accounting for that! (;-)) But the best part was he pulled out, only and entirely...the book of Job.

d.d. understands suffering

& scripture study like no one else.

(ps--

Bears isn't off the hook, I know where she sleeps!)

2011-05-02T19:54:00.000-05:00

of trips to California

and friends

I took the girls to California for Spring Break. We talked about taking the whole family but it was super expensive and a cross country trip with seven seemed like a pain, while a cross country trip with three seemed like...a vacation.

So d.d. headed to my mom's and then Katies, and M took big C and H for the week and we divided and conqured the world of fun. We had a super great time---here are my take aways.

Bead and her family are awesome.

Sarah and her family are awesome.

There is a very low bar for bikini wearing.

SeaWorld was great, Disney---I don't get the hype.

Mms and Bears were able to do six hours of plane rides without ANY form of electronic media (unintentional but I am so proud of them) ((it did include a certain amount of time spent punching each other though))

My most favorite takeaway was the friendship between old roommates can last past the years of rooming together and the distance between them, and that the friendships can trickle down the generations...

"Mom, can boys and girls be roommates?"Mms

"Um, yeah, I guess."

"Where is Braden (Bead's son) going to go to college?"

"He's going to BYU like you, but you can't be his roommate there, its not allowed."

"Oh."

2011-04-24T17:52:00.000-05:00

of language

I haven't bothered to correct the kids on some of their language snafoos.

d.d calls Narnia---Nar-ni-na

he also calls finger nails---finger tails &

toe nails----toe finger tails

H is just starting in on the world of conversation and it is really the best time of little kid-ness. He's repeating any silly sentence you give him and he's insisting on running long sentences of completely non-sensical sounds---

"Ha, eve-ON. NO-NUTS! NO-NOTS!" or, "Hey, everyone, there's donuts, donuts."

But today he did the best of all. His use of happy.

"Da!!! Happy?!"

"Happy Esssstr.!"

"Happy Hello!" (Happy Halloween)

And finally,

"H it's time for bed."

"No Happy. NO HAPPY!! NO HAPPY!"

That last line needs to be read with a growl, and a scowl--even a demon-like throat gurggle for the full effect.

We love this kid.

He makes us happy.

2011-04-24T17:39:00.000-05:00

of Easter necessities

Friend Easter egg hunt---basket and sword, check.

Family Easter egg hunt---shirt, check

pants, optional.

2011-04-18T14:32:00.000-05:00

of book fairs

take 2

Another stellar poster.

Evidently I need to have a talk with my kids.

2011-04-15T10:39:00.000-05:00

of book fairs

"Is this all you bought at the book fair?"

"Yeah!" Bears.

"You didn't buy any books?"

"NO!!! Why would I buy BOOKS? We have like twenty thousand million books!"

She's right. We do have plenty of books.

We don't have any cat in prom dress posters.

And we don't have any sticks with pointer fingers on the end of them.

"Its a pointer!"

"Whats it for?"

Silence.

Meow.

2011-04-07T21:25:00.000-05:00

of the worst day,

2920 days

Mms rolled over, her back to me in the bed while we were reading.

I knew she had started crying, I knew the next words would be, and they were,

"This is the worst day of my life."

She had listed to me earlier 5 things that made it a bad day. I try to never brush aside my kid's bad days--I disagree with dismissing their emotions with phrases like "no it isn't," or "I'm sure it wasn't that bad." Because, really she's only been alive 2920 days, and its really very possible that today was the worst.

Just before bed she told me of one aspect of her bad day and I almost did dismiss it, and then a little thought warmed in my mind and told me to empathize with her. It told me to tell her that such a thing, if it happened to me, would have upset me as well. She turned and wrapped her super skinny, strong arms around my waist and cried and cried and squeezed me.

I've known of myself that I am like a sponge--an emotional sponge. I really hate it. I absorb and then retain the emotions of people around me. It can be very overwhelming at times and to keep from collapsing completely I have also developed a snarky sense of humor and an ability to keep people at arms length.

This is difficult with children--I have found that a snarky sense of humor can sometimes backfire in the parenting world and that children held at arm's length may not thrive.

It wasn't lie when I told her I would have been upset about her particular situation, but when I said it I was feeling her pain, and I was on the verge of tears too. But, as silly as it sounds, she squeezed me (she's mighty strong that Mms), I squeezed her, she told me she loved me, I told her I loved her and I felt a release of emotion. I felt that the emotion we were both feeling had its say, and we could let it go.

She's sleeping upstairs now, "I hate Thursdays!" were her final words

and I kissed her on her tiny cheek and

reminded her that the best thing about bad days,

is they are over when you wake up.

2011-04-06T09:24:00.000-05:00

of googlie eyes

2011-03-31T22:48:00.001-05:00

of lessons of big C

If you're big C, sometimes things can be hard.

Its hard getting upset about having lost something--that you find you are holding in your hand. Its hard losing the lunch you just made, in the room you just made it in. Its hard finding the shirt you just took off because it is now inside out and therefore doesn't look the same--even though its the only shirt around.

"You're going to start using that as my catch phrase arn't you?"

He said this to me tonight when I asked again,

"How many people is it going to take to raise you big C?"

"Thousands!" Mms.

I was watching the kids swim this evening, Mm's in her beautiful clear strokes--there is no difference between her motion and the fluidity of the water. Bears, who is an amazing power house of strength, and cute big C who looks a lot like a tree branch--stiff, bent, rigid--making his strokes down the pool. I felt a surge of delight at how far they have come as children and how far I have come as a mother. I felt a wonderful welling of how in all their gradual changes is a ripple effect to changes that have happened in me.

There is a snag for me to living a life where everything comes so quickly--food, entertainment, communication. I get tripped up in thinking that all aspects of my life are that way, when really that speed and ease is only associated with the more tangible parts of who I am.

The process of my real growth I don't think has changed for any human from the beginning of time. It is gradual, at times intense and ultimately (when realized) deeply meaningful. In all my fretting and anger of the things I feel I may have lost, I will suddenly realize that someone is gently tapping me on the shoulder and showing me that my missing piece is really right there too,

sometimes right in my own hand.

2011-03-28T10:19:00.000-05:00

oddly, when he rode his scooter off the steps, his helmet was already in that position--and didn't
seem to help him.

of putting that bad day

right behind us

Saturday morning I dropped M and his friend off at the airport.

And while I had no fever, or aches or pains, I came home and threw up.

Then I walked down to the drugstore and bought some Gatorade because if there is one thing I've learned from a collective 15 months of throwing up

("Mom that's a year and three months!" mms-- oh I know, yes I know)

is that nothing goes down and up as easily as Gatorade. I added to my list a pregnancy test and the whole one minute walk home I imagined some silly little baby sitting in my uterus holding my IUD in her hand and laughing and laughing and laughing.

Well, I am happy to say I've never been so happy to have a stomach bug in my LIFE!!
In your face imaginary baby!!!

But then I still had everyone, on a Saturday and Sunday, to watch and without going into great details, lets just say that with H has a bad moment, or more specifically when he gets caught with something he shouldn't have a hammer, sharpie, candy, bundles of toilet paper--- he thinks he's fooling me by hiding said item behind his head.

Really. His head. Like I can't see the hammer you're holding behind your head.

But the bigger point is that he hides it there, and then fusses when I take it and then he just moves right on to the next event. I am not always so good at this.
I am terrible at hiding things behind my head, and I am only just learning to move on to the next event without fretting about how things didn't work out.

The weekend was a bust. I was looking forward to doing some fun things with the kids, I was looking forward to hearing about M's trip and instead I was looking into a toilet bowl, being cranky and also, I threw up in front of someone's house.

Thats going to be hard to move on from.

2011-03-22T22:11:00.000-05:00

every family should be as happy!

of multiply,

and replenish

I have three dear friends who are about to have their fifth baby.

Of course, these friends don't need my advice, because obviously they already have FOUR kids so to them, as much as to myself I'd like to impart words of wisdom.

Hold your baby as much as you can.

When being asked to help with three different homework levels it is normal to think, "two kids seems awesome."

It is easy to unload the 15 loads of laundry to think,"one kid would have been perfect."

It is normal to clean up again after you cleaned up again, and then oh yeah, again & again-- and to wish you were single.

For me, it is a temptation to want to line things up, to use numbers and mulitplication to understand things--

5 kids=5x the laundry, food, cost, space, energy

therefore it should also mean,

5 kids=5x the fun, knowledge, learning, understanding etc.

it can but,

that kind of logic is flawed, because the meat of being a mother to five kids has nothing to do with math. I cannot look at my friends with fewer children and say to myself,

"Yep, I'm totally learning more than her. She's only at second grade patience. I'm like at an 8th grade level."

Because anything that is truly worth obtaining, cannot be measured by something as limited as a number, not one, two, three, four or five. Because the lessons of virtues are taught to us all, and they are the same.

They just come in different packages.

d.d. and I were at my niece's birthday party. It was a gymnastic one and his shyness overtook him and he was afraid to jump into the foam pit with the other kids. I carried him over to the edge, like a baby and held him there, rocking him and telling him it'd be fun to get in, you'd like it.

"well. You better just throw me in then."

That's what my five meant to me...a plunge into the deep end of

learning to let go of myself,

and reach out--

and I love it.

Even on the days that I don't.

2011-03-21T20:31:00.000-05:00

have a seat,

I'll spin you a yarn

and here's a lollipop

"Mom. Today. At school, when we were playing with matches. Tara's flew across the room, with fire on it. It landed on the calendar and set it on fire. But, we had a hose."

"Really? You were playing with matches, at school?"

Looking me straight in the eye. Eating some syrup with some puffy pancake on it,

"Yeah. We were," shoulder shrug.

Because apparently after they make rainbows by gluing Lucky Charms onto paper, they then, you know, play with fire.

On Sunday, he walked out of the Bishop's office at church. Usually this office is closed. But it was open. He walked with a straight leg and one hand over the pocket of said leg. He walked like it was a peg leg and he held his hand perfectly over the crumpling sound of a lollipop wrapper. The type of lollipop the Bishop hands out to kids on their birthdays.

"Do you have something in your pocket that doesn't belong to you?"

Looking me straight in the eyes.

"No."

"Do you have something in your pocket that doesn't belong to you?"

Looking me straight in the eyes.

"No."

I asked him four more times, we were engaged in a deadly staring contest to see who would break first. Him, because he was thinking,

"I've totally got this lady. She's an idiot."

Me, thinking,

"I've totally got this kid. He's an idiot."

But no one would break.

"If you have taken something that is not yours, then the right thing to do is put it back. I'll meet you in the foyer."

Then I walked away.

He hid the lollipop elsewhere, which, oddly is righteous older sister (who didn't even know he had stollen it) randomly found, ran to the Bishop and tried to return but was told she could keep it.

Was it a win to see the look on his face when his sister ran by with his loot, honorably gained?

Yes,

in fact it was.

2011-03-19T22:13:00.000-05:00

of quality time, fear & video games

I could write a hundred posts on my personal challenges of raising five kids, tonight, I'll do one.

Trying to spend meaningful time with each child can be tough.

Mms is very verbal and likes to seek me out to have 'talks'.

Bears, in general, yells a lot and so its easy to know whats happening to her.

d.d. is with me most days and right now our relationship vascilates between him arguing with me about what MY favorite color is to telling me I'm his girlfriend. He's so complicated...I should really break up with him.

And h has just mastered melting his bizarre throat grunts with an 11 word vocab, including such necessary words to a 2 year old as Money, to make meeting his needs rather a breeze.

This leaves big C. He's generally quite. He likes to be alone and he won't fight the girls for talking time. But when you can get him one on one he's really rather chatty. So, I've been trying to go in and lie down with him after bed and catch up on his day. He loves this. I love it.

The other day he told me he needed me to lie down with him because someone told him about a scary movie and so he wouldn't be able to sleep.

Happily I snuggled up to him. Happily I reminded him that all things in said movie were created by someone and not real, and to try and think of something that made him happy--

"Like video games?"

"Yeah, like video games."

Enter pandora, and she brought her box.

If there is one thing in this world I hate, it is video games. I'm terrible at them. I always lose. I think they are a waste of time and also I always lose. And I lose.

Big C loves to talk about them, and ask me questions about them, and ask me which is my favorite race on Mario Cart, and which is the best car and what do I think about the shells and how about being Mario and do I know the secret way and also open up keys and locks and magical lands and so----many---other---questions---about----VIDEO GAMES!!!!!

"Mom. Mom. Mom--are you awake."

Remember Melin, quality time!

"Yeah...I am. That race is really great."

I start to drift away into dream land. I'm deathly tired anyway and big C is lulling me into sleep until my sleep/dream starts to look like a video game with big C narrating and I am on a race with non-existant creatures and I am losing and remembering how much I hate this and I feel anxiety as I can't get out of this race.

But I do wake back up and I am out of that dream-race but big C is still talking about video games and now I am afraid.

Afraid,

this.will.never.end.

So there is the next blog post--being adaptable, letting my idea of quality time not crowd out his idea of quality time. I'd love to talk to him about all his feelings and thoughts and dreams and emotions and loves and he'd just love to tell me now many races he's won. And somewhere, between my sleep and his awake, between my assurances on fears and his questions about video games, we are building a great relationship---

and that is, quality time.

2011-03-16T22:57:00.000-05:00

happy patrick's day

2011-03-16T22:35:00.000-05:00

love your toilet paper

of a letter

from him without words

Mom......

If you find me on the couch--eating, like you keep asking me not to, just know how much I love it.

& you (thats why I smile at you while you get mad).

Yes, I have made it appear like I am interested in being potty trained, but the fact remains that urinating where ever I am standing/sitting/lying/hoping/digging/eating is just that much more simple. I am a simple guy.

Have I told you how much fun it is to run around naked?

I don't know why you keep that guy rolled on that roll. If you unroll him, like I've been doing every time you forget about me and leave the bathroom door ajar, then you have a great stuffed lovie. See me here. I love him.

Sincerely,

PS--Yes, I think hitting d.d. is really the best way to fend him off.

2011-03-13T21:51:00.000-05:00

having a blast from the past, d.d. as a one year old

of d.d. and more water
three fat ladies, and a kernel in his nose

The other day d.d. and I were waiting for his Y swim class to start. There were three women exiting the pool. They were all rather large. They had unusually skinny legs.

"Mom," d.d. said, "look at those funny people over there."

"Yeah I see them bud."

He kept looking at them for a while, studying them out, wondering and then turned to me and said,

"Oh. I get it. They all just filled up with the water."

Later that day we were doing family swim. d.d. tried to convince me that I should tell the guard he's a "green" and can swim in the deep end.

"But you can't swim the length of the pool."

"Yes I can. On my back."

"And you can't tread water for a minute."

No, actually he can tread water for like four minutes.
He doesn't use his arms to tread water, he relies solely on his legs and he is perfectly vertical. Perfectly vertical, stiff actually. It is incredibly odd to look at because usually his head sinks below the surface and he inhales a significant amount of water and then will rise to the surface and cough and choke on it and will continue to kick with just his legs, no arm motion. Also he will refuse to reach out to me, or let me reach out to him.

Even though he's drowning.

So I stand there, six inches away and watch him drown. After he's gulped enough water to turn into one of those three women, he'll reach out to me and rest on my arm, choke and cough and hack and take on a full clean, real breath, let go and try again.

We also, if you can believe it, had a conversation while he was doing this--it went something like this.
"Mom, member when I got a popcorn kernel up my nose?"
"No. I don't think that's ever happened."
"Yes. Well its like that now. I call it, now-a-popcorn-kernel-nose-swallow-breath-kernel-nose."

Yeah. I see. I call it that too.

2011-03-07T22:47:00.001-05:00

couldn't find a good photo of d.d. for this post but I did find a crazy one of h!

of kid logic, a river

a choice

Today we stopped at the river on our way home from picking up d.d. from school.

"Sure, we can stop bud, but not too long cause I've got a lot of groceries in the car that we need to get to the house."

Then we walked down to see how high the river had gotten after a full day of heavy rain. I love a river. Moving water is like the blood of the earth--it says life to me more than anything. The river was heavy and full, tripping over itself to get to where it was going.

"Its like mud mom. Or wait. Hot chocolate," d.d.

D.d. spent some quality time trying to run away from his shadow. It wasn't a game, he was really annoyed at his shadow and why he couldn't shake it. When d.d gets angry or annoyed or peevish or insolent or frustrated he is useless to try to engage in meaningful problem solving. He is too busy tripping over himself trying to be in charge. So despite his anger, I just left him alone and helped H identify that all the little green plops on the ground really were goose poop.

"Yep buddy, that too. Yes, and that one. And that. All poop."

When we got home d.d. opened some of the Ritz crackers. They were a little darker than normal, toasted maybe just a few moments too long. D.d. picked up on this right away.

"Uh-oh, looks like we did leave them in the car too long while we were at the river."

Yep, no one wants their Ritz crackers to get too dark from being left in the car for too long.

Later, d.d. got in trouble. He refused to help put his clothes away. If he decides that he doesn't want to do something I am in trouble, because I haven't been able to figure a way to work with him, instead of against him--he's a rock my river must roll over.

"d.d, I'll count to five and if you don't put your clothes away like you've been asked then you are going to have to go to your room."

We have this battle a lot. I hate it. It is open defiance towards being asked to do something. I have been praying for guidance and help on this matter because its been such a struggle.

"One."

He smirks at me.

"Two."

He's not moving. He's a rock. He's defiant.

"Three."

No movement.

"Four."

Then a tiny thought in my head tells me to turn around--let him make a choice without you watching, let it be his own.

Counting for him never works. I only do it because I can't think of anything else to do. So before five comes out I turn my back to him.

Like a shot he's down putting his clothes away, happy, busy, productive.

The rock had rolled.

2011-03-04T17:32:00.000-05:00

of lacking

I believe I will start a list, please help me add to it, about the whole host of experiences that we don't have a single word for-- English, while remarkable, is lacking.

I get tired with cool, awesome, amazing.

I get bored with how 'funny' (for instance) gets used to run the spectrum of,

--a funny person who tells jokes

--a person I feel really uncomfortable around but don't want to be rude/or so honest about that

Here is the beginning of some words I need--

when a smell reminds you of something

that feeling of when you go somewhere, like on a trip, and then you come back and its like you never went at all

more words for all the various meanings of love

more words to express empathy that sound familiar instead of formal

a word that politely says, I no longer want to talk with you in this awkward exchange

a word that responds effectively to "You sure have your hands full!" (non-swear version)

that welling feeling inside when you listen to a really great song that just makes you feel incredibly happy

more words for happy

more words for sorrow

a word to pin point why when someone does get hurt it is sad, but when they almost get hurt, it can be funny

a word that describes why I want to squeeze cute things--very hard (sorry h)

It seems to me that we need more variation on the instances of our life, our words are too broad and our meanings to vague.

Its all a little out of focus.

2011-02-28T23:31:00.000-05:00

of validation,

second grade style

A few weeks ago a letter came home from Mm's class asking parents to volunteer for career day. I read over the form, and the thought crossed my mind that I should go and represent stay at home moms.

But then, I thought--
technically its not a 'career'
what can I actually tell the kids on how to prepare
what if this isn't what they are looking for
etc. blah, etc. blah, etc. blah

So I sat on the thought for a couple of days and then I ran it by Mms.
"Mm's, what if on career day I came in and talked about being a stay at home mom? Would you like that?"
There was a hug and a long drawn out "YESSSSSSSS!"

All the validation I needed.

So last night I put a little poster together of what is required by a stay at home mom.
Manage a home
Manage people
Teach right and wrong

I was excited as I got to the school (I really liked the poster I put together) and was even more excited when Mm's teacher told me that the kids got to pick which professional they went to see and that stay at home mom was one of the most popular (shout out to moms!)

But the best part was on my third group of talkative kids when I was doing my little speech I told them that in order to be a stay at home mom you still had to have an income.

"So, who pays me?"
"Your boss!"
"Well, who's my boss?"
Silence. Confusion. Flustered faces.
"I don't have a boss. So how do I get my money?"
Again. Silence. Mystery
"Well, if you want to be a stay at home mom, you have to work out a way to still have money. In our family my husband and I decided that he would go out and work and I would stay at home with the kids."
Nods. Understanding. Clarity.
"So my husband goes to work everyday, and then he gives me his money."
"He gives you his money!?"
"Yep, he gives me the money."
Then, I kid you not,
Hands raised in the air, fist pumping, cheering, shouts of joy, ellation.
"He gives you his money! That's the best job!!!"

That's right.
The best job.
Ever.

2011-02-27T23:05:00.000-05:00

Every birthday needs a boa--

of eight, being

great

I am amazed with 8.

It seems so sudden for something that happened gradually, that a child becomes a conscious and concerned human being. Mm's has hit this point where her self understanding is really starting to include her surroundings. I can see her tune into what members of her family need and reach out to help resolve problems.

I count on her to reach out to her younger siblings and she does it so well that d.d. has asked me,

"Who should I marry? Isabel, or Mms?"

and bears just lives and breathes to do the games that Mm's makes up--and they are the most bizarre games. She loves to play "old fashioned"--that requires them to wash clothes in a bucket or "maid" where they wash my kitchen floor (I'm a big fan of "maid").

But mainly she is just a great little girl for me. Daily showering M and I with expressions of love.

Happy birthday!

2011-02-27T22:52:00.000-05:00

of the best part

Sunday naps with your favorite buddy,

make the hour of standing in the foyer at church with him worth it.

2011-02-25T14:17:00.000-05:00

almost, but not quite

of now's future

Fall of my senior year of high school I felt really sad.

It was a good six or seven months before graduation and I was feeling really sad that high school was over...except it wasn't over, I had seven more months. What's equally more ridiculous was that when the time came to actually graduate I didn't feel sad at all, because I had already been sad seven months earlier.

I've done this in other area's of my life, its totally stupid and I can only chalk it up to spending too much time living in my head and not enough time living in the world--but with that in mind yesterday I felt a really sad twang, about my birthday...in September.

I'd stopped seriously counting my age, turning 30 was great and after wards each birthday's number came as literally a surprise to me. But yesterday it hit me that I would be turning 35 this year.

I was sad, for like four straight hours. I am no longer eligible to have done something 'amazing' in my youth. Youth, as I like to think of it, is gone for me.

Certainly I have many years ahead of me, and as H and I sat sandwiched between two elderly couples at Dunkin Donuts this morning I realized I have many, many, many years ahead of me--but those sweet ones that are filled with innocent 'firsts' and whatnot may just have passed.

Or, I mean, in September they will have passed, because right now baby, I am 34 and the world is my OYSTER! So I am going to LIVE it up!

As best I can anyway, because tomorrow I may be sad that summer is almost over.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't me.

2011-02-22T23:21:00.000-05:00

d.d. you may need better walls for your "house". Its just a thought.

of being anxiously engaged in absolutely

nothing--
except virtues

I don't know how I keep it together in a museum for children.

We were at one recently and all the kids were at a 'construction site'. There was a large dump truck with a bunch of soft "bricks" that it had spilled out and there was a conveyor belt and and a shoot and there was a place to put your time card in and there were construction shirts and belts to put on.

I took my place on the perimeter with the other parents and watched as my kids with energy, enthusiasm, gusto, motivation, passion, desire, effort, focus, concentration loaded the belt with the 'bricks' and hoisted them to the top where other kids with the same energy, enthusiasm, gusto, motivation, passion, desire, effort, focus, concentration dumped the same bricks down a nearby shoot into a bin where other kids with the same energy, enthusiasm, gusto, motivation, passion, desire, effort, focus, concentration took them out and put them back on the belt.

What the?

I am all for playing but don't we see how silly this is! It is silly! Parents were taking photos, videos of all this nonsense. All these children running around and with determination were accomplishing, nothing.

Nothing.
It was hysterical.

I feel like that with my life, too many times. I run and run and run and move things and move things back and run and move things again and all the while I imagine God, looking down on me from the perimeter and thinking,

"This is hysterical, she thinks she's going to finish her laundry! Look she's putting shoes away, again! Classic! Like that's not going to be undone!"

Seeing all of the physical parts of my life as a tool for the intangible parts has been a beautiful lesson I've been trying to listen to. It isn't so much about getting my dishes done, but what kind of mother am I while doing so? How am I loving my kids while I am doing these mundane and highly repetitive tasks?

Because I know the chore will pass, and the time will pass with the children and I hope I will have used the time to do something more than accomplish a task. I hope I will have used the experience to find a way to fill myself with some virtues and values that will last.

Because unlike fake bricks, virtues are not so easily moved and removed. I have found that once they have set place in me I want them to stay and so a life spent seeking after virtues
----is hardly a life spent doing nothing.

2011-02-20T22:41:00.000-05:00

of these boys

and swimming and other stuff they do

Recently I finished a great book on raising boys "Raising Cain." I loved it and thought it was incredibly interesting and insightful. I told the kids about some of the things I read.

"Because you have to read a book on boys because they are so hard?" Mms.

Ok, yeah, but how can one book explain to me why d.d. is so in love with women already, talks about kissing, wants to marry me or his sister or Isabell and also talks constantly about poop? Oh, and shooting everything? There was no chapter in this book on why d.d. is able to tread water in a perfectly vertical position for an unusually long time, floating along like a straw and while he is good, still inhales an incredible amount of water thus choking himself but REFUSES to reach out for me to help him?

I just let him suck water.

I think he's drown 9 times while I've stood one inch from him.

Or why Big C, is the way he is...why can't he open our front door yet? Yes, it is a pitcher shaped door knob that can stick, but buddy--you're nine. Or how to encourage him and expect more of him without it overwhelming him.

Sometimes I think I've got it. Sometimes we roll along with one good parenting event after another and then it all changes again and feels like a mystery.

When I told Big C I was reading a book about raising boys he said,

"But Mom, every boy is different and so how can one book tell you how to raise every boy?!" Big C.

It can't.

It is difficult to get insight into the shapeshifters that are our children. Our sons that start as cuddly buddies and slowly morph into things I don't even think I should type (you, know farting and stuff)

---It will all pan out in the end I am sure.

If I can keep d.d. from drowning and help big C get into his house, we should be able to figure out the other things.

Hopefully anyway.

2011-02-20T22:16:00.000-05:00

of time and

of no time

A long time ago, before the children, a friend said that if he could have any super power it would be the ability to stop time. I was stopped short. What? No flying? No invisibility? No super strength?

Now, in so many ways, I see that stopping time would be the ultimate super power. I could just put all the kids on hold and do the laundry. I could pause the afternoon and go running, passing the stationary cars and dog walkers and get my workout and shower in every day!

Time, is the great divide between my kids and I. Today we got stuck in traffic coming home and big C kept telling me how long we had been in the car---this is the first I've noticed them, noticing the passage of time. This will be good for us, as the kids grow and start to measure their life by the passing of a clock. Hopefully this will help us be on same page and perhaps this equation will happen less and less---

mom(who understands time)a + kids(who don't understand time)b + having to be somewhere(at certain time)c=
bad parenting

And though I am happy to think that my kids will count time--ironically, as they are learning to do so, I am very busy trying to not do so. I am trying to live more like they do in the great and perpetual Now.

Because while time cannot be stopped, it can stop taking such a front row seat. I can let late be late. I can lie in bed with a child and talk when other things need to be done and forget time. I can use my own superpowers, and not let
time be a superpower
over
me.

2011-01-27T21:11:00.000-05:00

"Thanks for wearing your ski goggles Bears. That makes the day special."

of one more birth

And "birthday week" ends with this guy.

9 years.

I honestly can't say that I feel its been a long 9 years or a short 9 years.

I feel like it is this amazing experience of growth that really can't be counted with something as limited as numbers.

Growth on your end and growth on our end.

It feels like as much as we strive to teach and train you,

you teach and train us--only we're probably more

aware of that fact then you.

If you were aware of that you may realize how powerful you are

and then overthrow the family.

Then you'd take over this blog,

and be in charge of making the birthday cakes for birthday week--

and doing decorations, and earning money to buy gifts.

Wait...

Tonight I'm going to tell you about the power you have,

and then I'm sleeping in

tomorrow.

2011-01-27T15:14:00.000-05:00

"Yeah, seriously d.d., I love these things!" H

of birthdays,

most happy

Mms and Bears helped me to think of what H's most favorite things were for his birthday.

Dogs.

Cats.

Dad.

I love that H was aware that today was for him. He understood the cake, he understood the happy birthday enough to go around the house saying 'happy' today. I love that as the smallest member of our house, he brings the most joy.

If I made a cake for the family, it would have a picture of him on it.

happy birthday.

2011-01-25T00:11:00.000-05:00

I don't think this photo relates to this post. But isn't d.d.'s hair big! (and transparent)

of Aslan

and missing school

We have been reading the Chronicals of Narnia, or of Nar-nina (if you are d.d.)

The four older kids wander around our bedroom while I read-- playing quietly with toys or books while they listen (Big C) doing my hair (Mms) fighting about doing my hair (Bears) and pillaging my jewelry box (d.d.). And among it all we have really fun talks about the story's meaning, everything from the symbolism of Christ to how the battling ram needed to knock down the door of King Lune's castle was made.

Tonight, after reading from "The Horse and His Boy, " when Shasta realizes that Aslan (Christ) was not only with him through many of his most challenging trials but even helped nudge him in the direction of some of his most trying times, we had a conversation that went like this.

"So do you understand what that means guys?"

Head nods around the room.

"It means that Christ is with you through hard stuff," Mms.

"Yep. So it means that believing in Christ doesn't mean that you won't have difficult times, but it means that Christ will be with you through those difficult times. So for instance Bears, if you're having a hard time at school, Christ isn't going to just take you out of it but he's going to help you through it."

At this Big C looks up from reading his Boy's life. He's already read a few chapters ahead in the book but he likes to listen to stories while he reads other stories-- he's like a reading octopus.

"I wish Christ would take me out school." Then he cups his hand around his mouth to muffle his voice like an intercom.

"Please send Charlie to the office--Christ is here,"he says.

Yeah. I don't think so buddy.

But nice try.

2011-01-23T21:08:00.000-05:00

of the secret life of children

Today a picture frame broke at our house. I put the smattered frames and the two thin glass panes out in the trash.

Then, many hours later, I put the kids to bed.

For the life of them poor Mms and bears can't calm down. Once they're told its bed time they think that is code for-- start rearranging room, talk to each other, draw pictures, they have to be told anywhere from 9 to 238746 times that it is time for bed. So I walked in their room tonight to gently remind them of what bedtime means.

Their light is fully on. Bear's is packing some of her dolls up to be put away in storage (what?) as well as taking a moment to redesign the layout of her blankets on her bed. Mm's has been doing the same and is moving around on her top bunk and then all of a sudden there is this odd sound.

"Uh-oh." She says.

"Uh-oh what?" I reply.

She was sneaking the glass panes to her bed. You know, to sleep with.

The secret life of my children is a love of mine. The sneaky things they do--

Bears 'sneaking' spoonfuls of sugar from the jar and leaving a huge trail of it on the counter,

d.d. and H playing in the girl's bedroom when they are not supposed to and having the most comical look on their faces when they are caught

Big C reading late into the night when he should be asleep but can't

Mm's hiding money, candy and food in her millions of purses

I love how their little minds come up with great ideas that really are sooo bad, but they don't even know how bad they are. A glass window pane?! To bed?!

As we gently removed all the shards out of her bed the look on her face was just priceless. There was no need to lecture her on not sleeping with glass. The jagged edges, the sword like tips were explanation enough.

2011-01-16T20:46:00.000-05:00

of 2011,

a year in review

So far, things have been going well.

I have kept to my New Year's goal of no sugar (specifically the three Cs--no candy, cookies or cake)

and I haven't gotten behind once in the laundry (although M hasn't noticed that yet--I'll point it out now)...

"Wow. Good job," he said.

But its Mms who's noticed. Its Mms who awarded me the coveted "Best Mom In The World" award on Monday. I mean, she made me a trophy, it has buttons and glitter and three eyelashes for each eye.

As nothing can sit as one thing for me, and everything must be a representation of the larger picture, my trophy has got me musing. I mean yes, I did get "Best Mom in the World" which is grand and would suggest that I have risen above all my competition namely, other mothers. But actually Mms' only has one mom--so by default I am the best. (or worst--she could make a trophy for those days too)

And is that enough? Enough recognition?

The fact that I have a blog tells me that I am seeking for more. I am motivated by pride, and vanity to somehow stretch my neck out further, prove my worth to the world outside my home.

I hate that.

Yet I am also motivated by a sincere love of writing and thinking and a great enjoyment of glueing pieces of life together to form something of beauty and value.

And yes those creations are children.

And yes they are the home I keep,

and the person I try to be.

And I guess for me, a paper trophy must be enough, because it does keep me going-setting goals, striving to be better.

I just wish it came with some prize money.

2011-01-08T20:12:00.000-05:00

of loving bears,

embracing opposition

Bears has been sitting very close to my heart lately.

She's been resting in next to its beating like a little lady--thoughtful, questioning, making that slight and always surprising transition from small unaware child, to real person.

She's always been our most articulate child and as a problem at school as reared its ugly head I have been overcome by her emotional awareness and her emotional strength. Here it is for both of us.

LIFE.

Life doesn't sit back for cute kids, or sweet ones, or the ones that make you laugh, even as they are (traumatically) released from their mother's wombs they are at the mercy of being here in the middle of life; with all its many ups and downs. I feel at times that I can make decisions for my kids that will keep them from problems. Sometimes I can--but people trip and fall on sunny days as well.

So, for me, as the over protective mother, I have to look at her problem with the eyes of someone who has, at least a grain of understanding, to guide her through the process, instead of wishing the process weren't hers.

Least this post get any heavier than it already is, the photo was taken on the day we did our Christmas cards. Bears thought we were going straight home from church and didn't realize we were stopping to take a family photo.

She was very upset.

She had planned on eating immediately when we got home.

Her cookies would have to wait.

Life.

2011-01-06T21:44:00.000-05:00

of freedom,

crazy style

My mother in law threw a wildly fun New Year's party.

There was a talent show, treats, a 10pm "New Year" and most importantly, those blower things. You know the ones. They are all curled up and then you blow into them and a horn sounds and the thing unravels and you poke someone in the eye with it.

Wild.

Yesterday I asked H some questions. He responded to everything with a disregarding-get out of my face-manners don't matter-I'm two, "No".

"Do you like dogs?" (he crawls around our house panting and waiting to be pet on the head)

"NO."

"Do you like cats?" (he sleeps with all the stuffed cats in the house and carries around one poor soul who's back legs were amputated by Bears)

"No."

"Do you like dad?" (when together they are joined at the hip--sometimes he goes to work with M)

"No."

"Candy?"

"No."

"Shows?"

"No."

What I'm saying here is that I am going to get one of those blow things. I toyed with the idea of holding it in my mouth the same way H does when he's carrying two or three stuffed cats in his hands and holding his bottle in his mouth (a third hand!) And when I am ~~pestered~~ questioned by the kids, I'm blowing that thing in their face.

It would be an epic battle of crazy person verses crazy person.

Because children are crazy. They say crazy things,

"Mom, lets just go to the doctor and have our hair amputated." d.d.

They do crazy things.

"It was H who filled up the toothpaste tube with water!" Mms

"No it wasn't it was you!" Bears.

"Oh, yeah. It was." Mms.

And they freaking get to respond and act almost however they please. If you've ever noticed, its the people around the 'crazy' ones who are frustrated. Not the crazy people.

Freedom folks,

lies in being

insane.

No.

2011-01-04T22:29:00.000-05:00

of good days and bad,

and any given Thursday, especially Tuesday

This morning, Tuesday, I had a flat tire. M called me while he was driving the kids to school to tell me that my my mini van (aka my right hand man), was pathetically leaning to one side. Limping, as it were, while it stood still.

A few Tuesday's ago the battery died while I was lunching (on Wendy's) with Miss Jennette and the kids were watching a show. What? You need to keep the car on for a show?

And last Thursday, while we were all snuggled in our home hiding from the snow I thought my right hand man would be enjoying his break as well, buried beneath the layers of soft snowflakes. I thought he'd enjoy it, but, I was wrong.

He died.

One new battery, one repaired tire later, one car wash, two car seats, two booster seats, five kids, three friends later, swim class, playdates, pick ups, drop offs, scouts, errands, naps in the car and I can say that its been a good few days.

I no longer mark good days by the absence of trial. That is a child's view. At 34, I think I am just about finished with my childhood, and a big mark of that ending is being able to roll over the waves of good day/bad day and realize that really they are all the same. That happiness for me is less about what is happening and more about how I am reacting to what is happening.

A good day is bumpy.

But there is redemption in Geico, in the one armed repair guy at NTB who will call me when the tire is finished instead of making me wait in the greasy waiting room with the kids, in still being able to make it to swimming, in being able to adjust schedules with ease and not annoyance--there is happy redemption in knowing that I can usually have good days despite what is happening.

As long as someone just holds my head in that direction---

I think I'll be ok.

2010-12-29T12:13:00.000-05:00

of Christmas, a few sizes too big

A delightful Christmas was spent this year.

The kids read a story about a ghost and have been afraid of going into the basement alone for the past couple weeks. You know, because Abraham Lincoln's ghost might be down there. Again, the scary, blood chilling, Abraham Lincoln.

"Santa" (do you remember how much I don't like that guy?) Forgot that one of "his" kids was with "him" while shopping and wrapped up a present from "him" and when Big C (who still believes in "him") opened his Calvin and Hobbes books, Bears started yelling, at the top of her lungs (which is a VERY loud place)

"I knew it!! Santa's not real I was with mom when she BOUGHT that! He's not real!"

Then there was a short lived fight that involved Big C yelling at Bears and Bears getting all sorts of 'stink eyes' from the real santa (mom), fortunately everything settled down and later when we were alone I asked Big C if he still believed in Santa.

"Yeah, of course I do," he said without glancing up from his Calvin and Hobbes. "I don't believe in Bears."

d.d. wins child of the year for Christmas day when in the middle of the unwrapping chaos he stopped to get some trash bags from the kitchen and began collected all the wrappings. He can be a doll that one.

I'm taking down the Christmas tree and decorations today. I like getting Christmas started right after Thanksgiving, and now it feels fresh to start to take it all down and get ready for the new year. What is funny to me about time rolling over on itself is that between the 31st and the 1st nothing will have changed, except my own frame of mind. I have been warming up to my new year's goals (day three, no sugar) and it has made me feel excited about what is to come, and peaceful about what has passed.

There is nowhere to reside really except right here, right here with Abraham Lincoln's ghost and in our PJs that are two sizes too big.

2010-12-21T19:48:00.000-05:00

of getting a good look

M and I decided that 2011 is our year.

This is the year we are going to fully become the people we want to be. This is going to be against all of our regular foes that hold us back.

Our foes--in order based on strength;

Sleep (this is our good and dear friend--he always seems to find us)

Lazy (this guy comes really near sleep sometimes, lots of times he likes to follow after 'really busy day' and tell us we better go and find sleep)

Watching movies, while being lazy and preparing for sleep

(this needs no explanation)

I think we are in a good place. I will say, in our defense we have been 'really busy last 8 years' with 'really little children,' but in many ways the intensity of those years is just about gone so I think we're ready to move to the next level.

Also, I am going to give up sugar.

Yes. I. Am.

Even though the evil Jennette (who said she'd be a support) is trying to convince me to eat Christmas goodies (Like I don't have 34 years of Christmas goodies loaded on my butt)--but I will fight her, and the temptation to eat sugar.

I have done two days in a row so far--and this is still my warm up week, things are going to get real in 2011---

Get a good look at that photo because next year, you'll be looking at something else. I'd post something else but I don't really know what its going to be...hopefully not a cow.

or hamster.

2010-12-21T19:37:00.001-05:00

of reluctance and silence

So I joined facebook.

Now I have three virtual worlds to distract me from my real one.

Now I have three places to work on, get on, keep up on, connect on--that will pull me away from my laundry.

(has anyone noticed the complex I have about laundry?)

I find this funny because lately I've not been updating this blog that often, because I've been making a real and concerted effort to focus on my 'now' and what is right in front of me, no matter what that may mean to other things I want to be doing. I am learning to live right where I am standing at all times.

And I can't really fit in my computer--there's no place to sit and when I think I've found one I find its too crowded.

What do I care if 5 million people like something?

I've got 5 right now literally running circles behind me--I don't think I need millions more.

But there I am.

A reluctant crowd follower.

Does anyone know where we are going?

2010-12-21T19:23:00.000-05:00

of where have they gone

It is no secret that my memory is lame.

No secret to anyone but my memory that is. My memory is still surprised at how often it gets duped by the likes of children, roommates, mothers, husbands.

One of the better dupings came on Saturday when my great mother called to wish M and I a happy anniversary.

"What?"

Glad someone remembered that day because neither M nor I did.

Glad friends were already having a party that night so we had somewhere to go.

Glad to have a spouse who had as much of a laugh about it as I did.

Someday we'll really look back on this and laugh.

Or, actually we won't at all because,

I'll forget.

2010-11-28T22:06:00.000-05:00

of snippets

M just took H's engagement photo last weekend minus the fiance'--

d.d., upon hearing that when I was eight my father passed away from problems associated with diabetes, questioned,

"Why didn't he just fall off a cliff or something?"

Apparently that is his preferred method of death.

d.d. also had big C help him with his Christmas list which includes,

1. stuffed dogs

2. red toothbrush

3. tools

and, my favorite

4. a glue stick

I may need to have more children because the older ones are not saying as many funny things anymore and h doesn't seem to want to say anything but 'mmmmm'.

But scratch that, because that is the stupidest reason to have more kids.

I'll let H and his mystery fiance' fill that role.

2010-10-30T11:53:00.001-05:00

of halloween success

This year for the various Halloween parties King Henry was joined by his two loyal dogs, his dead brother's ghost and his complicated sister who was her doll but found carrying her doll around was "too difficult" and so she was basically just herself in tight pants.

King Henry was a wise ruler--unlike some of the other kings who have shared his name. He was willing to wear his crown 63% of the time, and had no problem sporting baby girl tights and shoes and wearing a toilet seat cover around his neck, since no one had time to kill a real animal for his luxurious costume.

He was benevolent, ate his weight in chocolate but never got it on his clothes, and continues to hold the highest rank in our family as being the best.

God Save The King!

2010-10-30T11:47:00.000-05:00

of fear itself

The other day this amazing site appeared out our front door. A double rainbow. It was really incredible and the photo does in no justice at all. Nor will this post do any justice to how deeply scared H was of the rainbow.

Shaking...with..fear...ran...into...the...house...scared.

Next Halloween I am adding rainbows to our house decorations. In fact I am adding all the things H is afraid of to the decor.

Rainbows

Church Nursery

All Nursery Teachers

YMCA Daycare

YMCA swim instructors

vacuum cleaners

I think that will make for a REALLY frightening house. Stay away!!!!

2010-10-30T11:38:00.000-05:00

the following

I realized there is quite a few things I have missed putting on my blog---being too busy wearing strainers on my head an all.

So the following is just a long catch up.

The fantastic Bears turned six. I can't even believe that she is six and in kindergarten (late birthday and all)--mainly because she acts like she is 21.

She had a great birthday, cat and ghost cake, dress up party and her very first American Girl doll.

For those that asked the following are some photos and one video of inside the RV.

2010-10-24T22:49:00.000-05:00

of Niagara in an RV,

not a barrel

I do believe I am now obsessed with this place.

What is it about a waterfall, that is unreal? It cannot be stopped. It keeps coming and coming and coming and flowing, and flowing, wearing down the rock beneath it.

Wait,--I have kids that do that.

Little water falls.

This trip from a family together sense, was great.

Logistically---awesome.

Memory making, well here's one,

"No Mms, I am not going to get that for you. We aren't buying stupid souvienors, we're here making memories!" me.

"Oh, ok. But wait, where did we just go?" Mms.

So Mms, just so you'll remember, we drove eight hours in an RV to Niagara, spent a day and half there, including the great spinning resturant. Let me say there is nothing like traveling with five kids in the off season, no lines, no lines, no wait, and no lines. Then we packed up and drove up to Toronto and went up the CN Tower--the signs in the tower still claim it to be the highest man made structure even though I think there are some places in the middle east trying to beat it. It was really high. We walked on a glass floor which made me sick--then on to Palmyra, NY for some good old Mormon history sites, again--no people no lines.

A few quick take-aways from this trip. We will do an RV trip again. It was great fun. The best part to me was how when you've spent a whole day sightseeing, or vacationing or whatever and you get tired and you are ready to go home so you walk to your car and you realize you still have to drive x number of hours before you are home and can really relax? You know that feeling? Well the RV, clears that right up.

Oh, look everyone! There's the RV, look right where we parked it...enter RV...Look now we are home!!! Amazing.

Plus long car rides where there is some ability to get up and move around ok, so in our case where the kids spent some time karate fighting in the back, is just priceless.

Anyway its nice to be home.

American Falls from the resturant

Big C trying to 'hold' the Canadian Falls

Mms holding, the "sun, it looks like an egg oak falling from the sky!"

Why does he already have the white man over bite? He isn't even dancing.

d.d.

This got extra large so you could see Bears' face

This got extra large so you could see H's face

looking down the CN Tower

2010-10-21T21:07:00.001-05:00

of living dreams, only later

It may have been the cross country road trip we took as a young family soon after my father died that planted in me a seed to want to drive big rig trucks. I can't really account for why I think they, motorcycles, heavy metal, Bruce Springstein, man-made wonders like bridges, power plants, factories and even truck stops are all really great--so great that all of them at one time or another have made me cry. Seriously.

Right now, I am chilling, in about as close as I may ever come to the truck driver dream, in the back of an RV. The kids are playing hide-n-seek (no it isn't a very interesting game in an RV) We picked up, loaded up and drove up this crazy, loud, rolling house early this morning on our way to...CANADA!!! We are here again (twice in six months) and I think soon we will be defecting to this cold, clean, friendly, highly taxed country.

A couple of gems,

"Now this is what I call VACATION---an RV in Canada---that is vacation to me!"

big C

M, after emerging from a much deserved two hour nap in the back, yells

"Who is driving this house!"

We can't really get over that we are in a house, that is moving. It has a real gypsy feel, especially the first few turns we made before getting everything totally situated, of pans clattering, children falling, stuff sliding and lots of yelling from the likes of d.d.,

"Mom, don't go forward when I am in the potty, else I'll fall in the toilet again."

Anyway, if you're wondering where we are, we are gone.

In that ridiculous list of things I love, I added since having kids--6 month RV trip to all the major, western State Parks--this is our maiden voyage to see if we even like it.

So far the kids LOVE it--and I mean LOVE,LOVE,LOVE it.

M and I are still on the fence.

And d.d., well, he's in the toilet.

2010-10-12T10:25:00.000-05:00

of putting down the label maker

I hate setting goals. I really, really do. I hate them because I am not very good at keeping them. As I have aged I have set fewer and smaller goals, and have also delighted going months without setting any.

But I do have just one that I have been working on, rather dilligently for the past few years. I knew I was getting closer to accomplishing this one early this Spring when I reorganized our storage unit. I knew I was getting closer when I got my basement, both play and laundry side, into a managable and workable state.

And now--now that on Sunday, while visiting with my family, and all the little boy cousins decided to dump every toy in the basement into a giant pile on the floor, instead of coming down to the disaster with anger or annoyance I saw it as another opportunity to sort and put away--and felt a deep delight well in my chest...I think I am there.

Now that I have re-organized my kitchen cabinets into very specific, well thought-out and labeled cabinets I think I have arrived.

I think, I now have touches of obessive complusive disorder--or really in my case, I am just becoming more orderly.

Now it is time, before this gets out of hand and all my kids wander around with their names labeled on their shirts and all their shirts labeled by color and where they are supposed to be hung up in our laundry system, now, it is time to put down the label maker and walk slowly away.

Goal.

Accomplished.

2010-10-08T22:56:00.000-05:00

of maybe you know

M and I were lying in bed the other night and I said to him,

"Well, tomorrow we'll get up, and do exactly what we did today. Again."

Do you know that feeling? It isn't a bad feeling necessarily, it isn't a depressing feeling or regretful feeling, its just a feeling of plateau I guess--everything is good and fine and anything bad can be dealt with, but there is no umph, no drive...that was until M said,

"No, tomorrow we don't have to make a lunch for d.d."

Ah, something different, something to look forward to!

So really I just wanted to put up this great photo that my mom took and say that it has been a nice fall. I don't enjoy being under the clock all the time---but I enjoy the rides to and from school with the kids. I love the one on one time with H and the one on one with d.d. when H is napping. I love hearing about the kids and what they are learning, and having everyone sit around the kitchen table doing homework--even H who scribbles on his and everyone else's paper.

I feel like I have no time though...I have put aside a whole bunch of things I thought I would do, because I have been spending a lot of time just holding that little bum up there and watching life wiz on by.

Maybe you know this feeling.

2010-10-08T22:12:00.000-05:00

of language problems and sentence challenges

English is my mother's second language.
She certainly has mastered it, but because we were evil, hysterical children we used to give her 'sentence challenges' that would require her to say all the words that she couldn't pronounce well.

So her sentence was,

"Fernando enthusiastically flew to Chicago at three o'clock."
I won't write how my mom pronounced this sentence but I will write how d.d. pronounces his sentence...

"Him in the BAns-ment eating smarshmellows for they pissappear."

2010-10-08T22:04:00.000-05:00

of way to long

A few weeks ago was my reunion with my college roommates.

It was crazy--you know, in a Mormon way.

I can't write about the awesomeness of it, because this reunion is scheduled to happen every year and a half or so, and I just can't keep writing how great everyone is. So I'll write about the Continental Divide, where we went--or went near to.

Do you know what it divides? It divides the watershed. Its the place that separates the drainage of rivers and such either into Pacific Ocean or the Atlantic Ocean. And its really high--11 thousand feet.

Do you like my hair?
And my pink face?

Good times ladies, good times.
Oh, and not all blog posts are good.

2010-09-16T10:36:00.000-05:00

of preschool jobs, prayer and boobs

d.d. doesn't always have that much to say. In fact I always think of him as "slow to speech," and indeed it can take him a terribly long time to tell a story. So with that in mind I edited, somewhat, this story that he told me yesterday.

"Mom. I am not. Mom. I am not. At preschool on Friday, I am not the job. I am not the job of lights at preschool on Friday."

"Oh, did you switch jobs?" me

"Yeah. My teacher. My teacher. Now I am holding the, holding the door and Benjamin is doing the lights. But I like doing the lights. And mom and mom, and mom I asked Ms. Baer if on Friday she is also going to switch my name.

And Benjamin's name."

We were also saying our prayers last night, in our heads. Afterwards d.d. asked me what I prayed for and I told him and then I asked him what he prayed for.

"I prayed, for that you and dad and I don't die.

And the color red.

Kiki.

and that I can become a dog."

Two nights ago I was laying down with the girls and the discussion of boobs came up and among other things, so did this declaration by Bears,

"And then Mm's we can have milk ALL the TIME!"

2010-09-08T10:02:00.000-05:00


fishing near blueberry island

of being on vacation

This morning I dropped four children off at school.

Three of them at one and one for his first day of pre-school.

Now my baby is taking a nap and I feel more free than I think I have in years. Not exclusively because most of my children are gone, because I really like my children around (except when they whin, then they are for sale)--and because I really like/liked the years that we were all home together. It suited my personality.

I feel free because they are all FINALLY in a situation that works for them. The older three are in a school that really challenges them and they are responding to it great and I am excited to see how d.d. manages preschool. I feel free because I feel like I have walked through months of worry and frustration and confusion to finally come to the conclusion that there is little point in worry, frustration and confusion to actually solving a problem.

Its more without those three (worry frustration and confusion) then being without my kids, that makes me feel light, free, & content--like I am relaxing lake side,

with a stupid look on my

face.

2010-09-03T21:54:00.002-05:00

of gifts

This is for M,

who is spending a late night at the office

and missing his buddy,

who already went to bed

after

a long day of coloring on his own shirt.

2010-09-03T21:51:00.000-05:00

of August 30th

Today we celebrated many things.

First of all, this knucklehead's birth with a doggie-themed birthday. The birthday was awesome. He invited only one friend--and yes, he really only has one friend and if he keeps being a knucklehead he's only going to have one friend--but that's for another post.

He had a doggie cake, and doggie presents, and acted like a doggie while his friend acted like a cat. It was great.

Also, this kid, that kid, and that kid all...

went to school...and

this knucklehead wouldn't get out of the picture until I held him down with my leg...

and then this little guy wanted his picture taken too. But we can do that because he isn't a knucklehead.

Not yet anyway.

2010-09-03T21:42:00.000-05:00

of fulfillment

This year we had a block party.

There was a moon bounce (thank you mimi and papa!)

There was a fire truck.

There was a lot of pasta salad, some eggrolls with sugared chestnuts, deviled eggs (all consumed by the firemen) hot dogs, cake.
There were neighbors and friends and family.
There were kid bike races and adult scooter races.
There was a lot of good times.
I love summer.
I am sad to see it go.

2010-09-03T21:33:00.000-05:00

of being back

Do I have to feel like I owe my blog an apology? Because I don't blog. I'm just living.

I am happy to say that we got a piano. Here is Mm's doll, doing a Vanna White for us, and showing how wonderful our new piano has been. I have been playing it so much that Mms has told me she is "pretty much sick of" the song that I've been practicing--yeah right back at you Miss-Fur-Elise-70098765-times a day!

But it has been a great addition to our home. Everyone has had a great time with it, even d.d. who has composed two songs already. I mean I hate to brag, on a blog of all places, but at age four? Composing!? His first song starts, middles (?) and ends with middle C being played in a rapid pace and him singing, "I love you mom, I love you mom, I love you mom." But his real genius lies in his second song that follows the same melody but has a much more complex lyrical section as it goes, "Watch out for the hole, watch out for the hole, watch out for the hole."

What the heck is that song?
He's weird.

2010-08-06T09:39:00.000-05:00

of as they were

If there is one thing you hear from everyone about parenting, whether they liked parenting or not, whether their kids turned out great or rotten, is that the time goes by so fast. I've listened to that. I've believed that. That idea trumps the irritations of the day or even a string of super crappy days.

I wanted to put this in, because it only lasted a short while, and it was so delightful. H has been a wonderful sleeper because we've been able to have him sleep in total darkness. He loved sleeping in our closet in a Moses basket, and when that no longer worked he slept in his pack n' play (who plays in these?) that had a really heavy down pillow-top thrown over the top to make a little cave for him.

While the fact that he slept well was great, the best part was him waking up in our bedroom. He'd start to stir and would just lie on his back and mumble the sounds that he knew, MA, BA or a little game he learned from the girls that went "lolli, lolli, lolli- POP!" and then they would clap. He can not say that and so all you'd hear was "lalalalal-EEE!"

This went on for, weeks, months I don't know and then one day, the day before this photo was taken, I woke up and looked down the length of our bed-- the white sheets that went seemlessly into the white pillow top over his pack n' play and there, there was his...head, poking out of the pack n' play. He was smiling and laughing like he had just figured out our trick. It was like his second birth.

Now he is gone from our room. He's in a crib and I wonder if it weren't for my camera phone, or these blog posts, if in three years, heck for my brain, two and a half hours, if I would even remember.

2010-08-03T22:11:00.001-05:00

of bottle parenting

I am slowly working my way through a memoir of my parenting. It includes some vinettes, some stories, some musings on parenting. But really I could sum my whole parenting style up in a blog post, and call it, like I just did. Bottle Parenting.

If your baby cries--give him a bottle.

If he is sad--try a bottle.

If he is fussy or his sister just dragged him somewhere by his feet (not at our house!)--give him a bottle.

Can't sleep? try a bottle!

Long car trip? disruptive in church? cranky? happy? lazy? thoughtful? watching a show? heck--even if he's thirsty, try a bottle.

It has worked wonders for our kids. Now some people, who might be named my mother, may try to say that our picky eaters may be a result of bottle parenting, to which I must say, "gene pool," and just nimp that argument in the bud.

Here are more positive results.

Bottle feed/comforted children, love to give other children bottles. Bears and d.d. get up every morning to make H's bottle. They get him out of bed, make him a bottle, take a little 'sip tax' from it and M and I enjoy this cool thing called, sleeping in. Of course the down side of this is having to fight d.d. and Bears when they try to take the bottle, or the many times they are making themselves bottles, or trying to convince d.d. that he cannot make H a bottle of Root Beer.

But otherwise, its been golden.

2010-07-28T22:23:00.000-05:00

of motivation, candy style

You just can't imagine how THRILLED d.d. was to discover this use of the planter. In fact my kids play with that planter so much I am tempted to buy more of them.

I'm just jotting down some summer stories. I always had an easy time home schooling Mms and Big C because they responded well to me and worksheets and whatnot. But Bears was always much less interested, she doesn't really like to color or write like they did. Anyway I've wanted her to do be doing a little more practice on her letters and reading and such and I told her that I would give her one skittle for each workbook page or picture she drew.

She finished her two inch thick preschool book in nine hours. She finished her handwriting book in one day and I must have 35 drawings of dolphins, horses, turtles and birds. Everyone has their motivation.

H walked by me with as unmistakable stench proclaiming the status of his diaper and I was not in the mood to change it and on a whim I announced,

"Anyone who changes H can get a candy bar!"

IMMEDIATELY Mms picked him up and said, "Bears, get the diapers and wipes!"
They swept him into the family room where he was dropped on the floor (laughing, but dropped) the boys both jumped in (not particularly sure of what to do, but there anyway) Cute little H, who is actually a delight to change because he holds still, just lay there calmly while Mm's wiped, Bears pulled out and rolled up the dirty one, d.d. threw it away, Bears put the new one down and everyone got in on some clean bum wiping and Big C and d.d. fastened him up.

Then everyone went and washed their hands.

Best candy bars I ever spent.

I still love summer. This household is going to die when we have to go to school. DIE.