Synchronized Burping and Tiaras

After only two months, I finally managed to write my column about Josie's birthday!



There are few things that strike fear into the hearts of little girls’ moms like the dreaded words “tea party sleepover.”

When Josie mentioned that what she really wanted for her sixth birthday was a sleepover/tea party with all of her friends, I tried to look on the bright side. There would be no visit to Chuck E. Cheese, no pool party with biting mosquitoes, no lugging food over to Grandma’s house (the family’s designated “party central.")

The bad side? Ten overly dramatic, nail-polishing, loud-squealing, ballet-dancing, giggling goofballs at my house for 18 hours.

As the greatly anticipated night approached, we (and by we, I mean I) prepared a tea party fit for a (birthday) queen. Of course, everything had to be tiny so it could be consumed from the end of tiny red, yellow and green sword-shaped toothpicks.

Everyone who is anyone knows that tea party food must be small enough to be consumed from toothpicks.

At last, all 10 girls arrived and deposited their pink-wrapped parcels on the gift table. After some minimal twirling and knock-knock joke-telling, they began to adorn themselves with various tea party fineries. Crowns, gloves, clip-on earrings, a long blond wig, fairy wings, plastic high heels and various hats and hair bows sparkled from every giggly, wiggly body.

Once they finally settled in at the lace-covered table, they reached for their toothpicks and skewered little hotdogs, baby carrots, sugar-snap peas, petite pickles, popcorn, marshmallows, strawberries and oranges.

They TRIED to use toothpicks to eat the following: croissants with jam, cupcakes with pastel frosting, and cucumber sandwiches topped with edible flowers. There was also an attempt at spearing a peanut, but for future reference, peanuts do not cooperate with toothpicks.

If you’ve ever been around a group of little girls playing tea party, you know that for some reason, they magically act more ladylike when they are passing the sugar and pouring the tea. It’s hard to maintain that demeanor for any great length of time, though, as these quotes from the party (listed in descending order along with their manners) attest:

Do you like my fancy shoes?

Could you pass that tiny spoon?

I would like the vegetables, please.

Sugahhh, please.

I think we need more creamer.

I know how to do fondue.

A piece of popcorn fell in the marshmallows – rescue it!

Can you go cross-eyed?

I’m gonna dance for you.

You need to act ladylike!

What about the birthday crown? Where is the birthday crown?

Happy birthday to myself!

*Burp!* (laughter all around)

Hey, who did that?

That was not very ladylike.

Ugh, get that burp away from me!

Wait, hold on! We are the burp musketeers!

Synchronized burping, everyone! Ready? And… go!

After eavesdropping while playing maid to the “ladies at tea,” I must admit that I was having a pretty good time myself. This was not an exchange of words that you hear every day.

Yes, getting everyone to sleep was impossible (I gave up around 1:30 a.m.) Yes, there was some drama (a fight over a pair of slippers shaped like chicken feet, of all things.) Yes, by the time morning rolled around I was ready for the Mom Cavalry to roll in and commence the pick-ups.

Josie’s birthday idea didn’t end up being quite as scary as I thought it would, though.

Anything that includes tiaras and synchronized burping can’t be all bad!



-from my 9/25/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

3 year old sermon

Tonight as I was tucking Adelaide in, she asked me to read her a story. Since I had just READ her a story, I said no. Then she held up her little white Bible with the gold letters on the front and said, "I just want you to read me ONE story. ONE verse!" So of course, I had to. I read about faith being able to move mountains and how God will give us what we need if we ask. Then she said she wanted to read a verse to me. As we sat there on her toddler bed, complete with Dora blanket, she took her Bible in her chubby little hands and leaned over it, pointing to the words like she was indeed reading it. She read in her little voice, "And God is right here wif us. And angels too. And if you fall down, God will pick you up. And if you get a boo-boo, God will help you. The end."

4 in a row

Adelaide, reading her little white bible to her baby brother (notice the 4 different books going on here): "Once upon a time, there was an old lady whispering hush the naked bear will get thee. Amen."

1)Cinderella
2)Goodnight Moon
3)Hiawatha's Childhood
4)The Bible

Poor Josie

Josie, pathetically: "Will you kiss my knee, Mommy? Well... I guess you don't really HAVE to. I only just scraped off the top layer of my skin."

Back to (Home)school

This week we had our first official day of "school." Since we homeschool, we were able to postpone our start date to coincide with the end of our summer travels.

Because I greatly enjoyed the hedonistic free-for-all that was our summer has been, I was a bit apprehensive about making the transition from Mommy to Teacher. I honestly did not expect the day to go well.

The girls were actually excited about going back to (home)school, a drastic change from last year’s online school that stressed us all out.

After breakfast and chores were over, Adelaide rang our little brass school bell and we commenced. We sang the good morning song and wrote the date on the whiteboard in the classroom.

Then the girls made up our class rules to post on the wall. With no coaxing from me, they made this list. I couldn’t have done better myself!

1 - No B.A. (bad attitudes)
2 - Obey
3 - Focus
4 - Be kind
5 - Have fun!

Sadie and Josie then grabbed their math notebooks, Jed played on the floor and Adelaide busied herself with Play-doh. After math, they took a break to run around outside and then we did our reading/spelling/language.

They loved the math. The curriculum we chose included lots of little teeny blocks in a rainbow of colors, and they raced through the first 10 pages in their books without ever slowing down.

Amazingly, I didn't hear any complaints about the writing parts either. Sadie even made a joke: one of her spelling words was "Duck." She had to read it twice, once in block print and once in cursive. So of course after she read, "Duck, duck” she added in “goose." We couldn’t stop giggling about that for a long time.

Next we headed to the kitchen where they chose from the new "What's for Lunch?" board on the fridge (a ready-made menu of what they can have, so I don’t have to play Twenty Questions three different times. I guess that would make it Sixty Questions.)

Sadie made her favorite chili beans and Josie (insisting on wearing a plastic hair-covering “like the lady at Sam’s Club”) and Adelaide made themselves bean and cheese burritos. While we ate, we talked about goals for the year.

In addition to getting through our math, reading and other subjects for the year, Josie wants to focus on swimming, karate, learning to read and memorizing the poem Hiawatha's Childhood.

Sadie wants to learn more ballet, memorize the names of lots of animal groups (did you know a group of flamingos is called a flamboyance?), learn proper swimming techniques and take horseback riding lessons.

Adelaide wants to learn her ABCs, her shapes and how to swim.

After lunch, we headed outside to a blanket under our big tree. Josie practiced Hiawatha while making up tribal dances on the driveway. Every time she starts reciting she announces, “Hiawatha, by Henry B. Swap.”

Henry B. Swap was a character in a book we read last year. He was the very first Henry she ever “met,” so now she can’t seem to switch over from “B. Swap” to “Wadsworth Longfellow.” It cracks me up every time.

Later we had blueberry popsicles, ran through the sprinkler, read stories and blew bubbles.

When I checked over their work that night, I saw that one of the questions on Sadie’s language worksheet was “What is your teacher’s name?” She had filled in, very carefully, “Mom.”

Not bad for a first day. Not bad at all.


from my 9/18/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Say What?

Tonight we were in the car headed out for dinner. The kids discussed amongst themselves where they wanted to go and unanimously came up with Chipotle. I hate Chipotle these days, so I said, "Well, I don't want to go there and since I'm the mom my vote counts 10 times. So there." Adelaide, who is THREE, mind you, shot right back, "Well, if you don't like Chipotle, why don't you just stay home, then?"

THEN, as if that weren't bad enough, when we got home and Jesse was getting ready to read her Goodnight Moon, he told her they could go sit in the rocking chair in Jed's room (for old times' sake :). She said, "You can't fit in the rocking chair." He said, "Look, I'm IN the rocking chair." She said, "Get up! You're going to break it in half!" He said, "What? Am I too big and fat to sit in the chair?" She said, "Yes."

This child pulls no punches.

On a lighter note, she was chasing her two older sisters around and around the yard with Josie's new "spear" from Tweetsie. When I asked what she was doing, she said, "I am trying to catch those two cantaloupe!"

First day of (home)school

Today was our first official day of "school," as far as doing it the new way (ie: MY way instead of the online school) goes. We started out differently right from the start: I got up early and got Jedidiah fed and some chores done before anyone else even woke up. Big plus on my part! Then I had set the clock for Sadie and Josie last night, so they got up right at 8:30, did their morning chores, and came down for their new WEEK LONG chore packs. Everyone read off their chore cards out loud so everybody would know who is doing what for the week. Then we had breakfast while I did our Bible reading. They had a few minutes of free time while I finished feeding and cleaning Jed up. Then Adelaide rang the school bell and we commenced. First things first, we sang the good morning song and wrote today's date on the white board. Then we made our class rules (actually, THEY made up the rules and I couldn't have done better myself!).

1 - No B.A. (bad attitudes)
2 - Obey
3 - Focus
4 - Be kind
5 - Have fun!

S and J grabbed their math notebooks out of their crates, Jed played on the floor, and Adelaide busied herself with Play-doh at the little white table. We did Math, took a break, then did our reading/phonics/language. They LOVED the math, and I didn't hear any complaints about the reading either. Sadie even made a joke... one of her words was "Duck." She had to read it twice, once in block print and once in cursive. So of course she read, "Duck, duck... goose." I got a big kick out of that! After we finished, we headed to the kitchen where they got to choose from the new "What's for Lunch?" board. Sadie made herself some chili beans and Josie and Adelaide made themselves bean and cheese burritos. Then we talked about our goals for the year.... Josie wants to focus on swimming, karate, learning to read, and memorizing Hiawatha's childhood. Sadie wants to do dancing, learn the names of animal groups, learn proper swimming techniques, and take horseback lessons. Adelaide wants to learn her ABCs, how to swim, and the 12 tribes of Israel (okay, I helped her with that one :).

After lunch, we headed outside to a blanket in the shade under our big tree where we read "The Rag Coat," one of our FIAR books. It made me cry! Then we practed Hiawatha while doing Indian dances on the driveway. What a great first day! I'm almost scared that it was so good.... when will the other boot drop?!

Mount Laundry

Sometimes I forget that there are other rooms in my house.

Most days, I feel like I live in the laundry room. With two adults, three active little girls and one very messy baby boy contributing to the “to-be-washed” pile, I might as well just pull a cot in there and call it a night.

There’s no room for an extra bed there, though. Extra things go in there. I don’t mean for them to go there – they just do. They gravitate there.

The nice long countertop is never available for folding purposes. It’s always full of tote bags, swimsuits, birthday presents, wrapping paper, cleaning supplies, umbrellas, crates full of Play-doh, an Easy Bake Oven, a plastic kite and umpteen other things that don’t have a real “home” in my home.

Sure, I clean it out now and then, but somehow the laundry room remains a magnet for all things random.

Even when you don’t have much space, or even a designated laundry room, there are still many ways to do laundry. Some people do a load or two every day. Some have a designated “laundry day,” when they lug everything into the laundry room. Some leave it going all the time, choosing to live in laundry limbo, with clothes piled in bins or hanging on various racks all over the place.

I, for one, have a system.

Five baskets: one for each child, one for grown-ups. This is my sorting mantra: “Sadie, Adelaide, Josie, grown-up, baby, grown-up, Josie, Sadie, grown-up, Adelaide, baby, grown-up.” (I’ve been known to wake myself up from a sound sleep while muttering this strange incantation.)

My children know that there is always laundry to do. I usually have one load in the washer, one in the dryer and one in the laundry room sink (basically a holding cell for all the dirty clothes I can’t stuff into the washer). Sometimes the kids help while standing on a little blue step-stool (Josie especially loves to put in detergent; Adelaide likes to help move wet loads from the washer to the dryer.)

They seem to want to help me conquer the summit of Mount Laundry. I am suspicious though. I think they just hang around until they see me pulling the warm clean stuff out of the dryer. They immediately confiscate the toasty sheets so they can wrap themselves up like mummies and relax in the laundry basket.

They do help fold and put away, though. I’ve labeled all their dresser drawers so they can remember what goes where. Sadie brings the upstairs hamper down every morning as one of her regular chores. Adelaide and Josie argue over who gets to fold the towels – kitchen towels are a hot commodity in the laundry business. Even with help, though, the summit seems unreachable.

So I say to myself, “Self, how do I down-size this mountain?” Then I answer myself with increasingly ridiculous ideas.

Maybe I should set my standards a little bit lower: It doesn’t matter if there’s ketchup on that pink T-shirt. Red and pink are in the same color family! Wear it one more time.

Maybe I should try to develop a higher dirt tolerance: It doesn’t matter if there is mud on the knees of those jeans. Brown is in this season. Wear it one more time.

Maybe I should worry less about comfort: It doesn’t matter if your socks feel crunchy. They look fine. Wear them one more time.

Or smell: I can’t smell you from over here. Oh, wait. Stand downwind. That’s better. Yeah, we can get one more day out of that.

I have a system. I didn’t say that it worked – just that I have one. I guess it will be a while before we plant the victorious laundry flag on the top of this particular mountain.


-from my article for www.mentorpatch.com on 9/11/11

PAY it forward

Last week Adelaide and Jedidiah and I were at the library. I had a fine (as usual) but didn't have any cash on me to pay it (also as usual). As we were picking out other books, the librarian walked over to give me a receipt - and told me that an anonymous patron had just paid our fines! What a nice thing to do!

Moses is Wild

Adelaide insists that we played two games tonight: Goggler (Boggle) and Crazy Eggs (Crazy 8s). Sadie is getting to be pretty good at Boggle (introduced to us by Josh on our last trip to NC), even though she cheats and tries to use letters twice. I'm just happy that she's learning to spell and she thinks it's fun! Josie kicked my butt 3 times in a row on Crazy 8s, or BIBLE 8s, as this particular version is called. Moses is wild. (That's not something you hear every day :).

Southern Cookin"

Since I was born and raised in the mountains of North Carolina, our family “migrates to the South” fairly often. Consequently, my children have learned to love pinto beans, cornbread, livermush, country ham, gravy, biscuits and a whole slew of other stuff that is terrible for their little arteries (well, except for the pinto beans.) When we are at their Great Grandma’s house, healthy food options are pretty much thrown out the window. We subsist on sweet tea, macaroni and cheese, fried chicken and dumplings in white sauce.

When we’re home in Ohio, I make an effort. They eat broccoli, green beans, carrots and organic chili. We eat turkey bacon, whole wheat bread, pears off the tree in our yard and dozens of apples. We eat grapes, eggs, fish, celery, bananas, salad and low-fat string cheese.

In Ohio, Josie loves spinach.

Sadie loves beets.

Adelaide will eat an entire cucumber (even though she hates all dip – no ketchup, no mustard, no ranch, nothing.)

In the South, however, resistance is futile. I try to fight it for a few days. I try to give them Great Grandma’s limp, butter-covered green beans, but then she swoops in behind me, doling out cookies, peppermints, fruit punch and chocolate gravy.

In the South, Josie trades in her salad with Thousand Island dressing for some Wonder bread smothered in strawberry preserves.

Sadie eats blueberry biscuits covered in icing until she turns blue.

When I say, “You have to eat a vegetable. Which one do you want?” Adelaide answers, “Waffles.”

Before I had kids, I never really worried about eating enough “colors.” Southern food is basically one color: brown and crispy. I really didn’t care much about protein, or good carbs, or even making sure I ate “something green” every day. Now, I have somehow found myself to be in charge of the nutrition of all these little people! It’s a daunting task for someone like me who wasn’t raised (obviously) to be a health nut. Although it’s in major contrast to my familial genes, most of the time, I do at least TRY to feed them a well-balanced diet.

I have to remind the southerner in me that Krispy Kreme donuts do not a healthy breakfast make. Fried okra does not count as a vegetable. Contrary to popular opinion, Hi-C Fruit Punch does not run though our veins.

My girls and I love our southern roots. We love Great Grandma. And, unfortunately, we really love good (bad) southern cookin’!

I guess it’s a good thing we moved.


-from my www.mentorpatch.com article on 9/4/11

I Remember

I often wonder what my kids will remember about their childhood.

What little things that I do or say (or don’t do or don’t say) will stick with them for the rest of their lives? What experiences will be permanently seared into their little memories?

Sadie, who is 7 and my oldest, has a great memory. She recalls things that happened when she was only 2. She remembers playing with her baby sister when she was her only sister, riding on the big blue tractor in North Carolina, going to pick out Christmas trees in the snow, living with her grandparents, even her very first haircut.

So far, that’s what she remembers. She hasn’t asked me what I remember.

From the second she burst into my world in the cold brightness of the operating room in the hospital to curl up, chubby-cheeked and perfect, pink as a rosebud, on the cotton fabric of my hospital gown, I remember.

From the way she used to try to “catch” the water dripping from the washcloth during her bath to the crazy piggy-face she made when she was learning to eat solid foods, I remember.

From the way she used to hold her book upside down and “read” in her car seat to her proud grin when she felt her newly sprouted teeth with her tongue, I remember.

The way her wispy hair blew in her face as we rode together on the hayride to pick out her first pumpkin for Halloween. The way she squished the pumpkin between her little fingers when we carved it. The way the crocheted hat with the long green yarn stems from the top curled over her tender ears.

The way her left thumb always seemed to find her mouth, the way her other hand “tweezled” her stuffed Snoopy’s ear back and forth as she went to sleep.

I remember the day she brought me a dandelion, the very first flower I had ever been given by my own child. I remember when she crawled, when she held on to the side of her crib and stood up on shaky chunky legs and squealed with delight. The day she took her first steps. The day she learned to clap, to dance, to sing “happy to you!” on her birthday. The way she would say something was “stuckin” if she couldn’t get it loose. The way she would ask, “What’s dis now? What’s dat now?” when she was trying to figure something out.

I remember the way she would snuggle in for a bedtime story, the way she would listen, blue eyes wide, to the song I made up for her about angels in the clouds.

I remember the way she liked for me to rub her back (under her gown, not on top!) during quiet time and the way she laughed like crazy at private jokes between her and her cousins.

I remember the way I kissed her good night last night. The way she laughed at my silly rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." The way I tucked her in, snug as a bug, under her pink and yellow daisy quilt.

I assume that I’ll have thousands more chances to do the very same thing, but if for some reason I don’t, I remember.

No, right now she doesn’t really know or care what I remember. If she asked me, though, I think I probably would say, “everything.”


-from my 8/28/11 Mama Says article for www.mentorpatch.com

Birthday trip remembrances

Some highlights from NC for my birthday trip:

-Adelaide playing with Aunt Sharon by sneaking up and smacking her on the butt, then laughing and yelling "Dat was me! Nah nah nah noo noo!"

-Sadie and Josie laughing and giggling in their bed until I finally had to shush them under threats of "a poppin'!"

-Adelaide hiding under the covers with the sheets over her head, singing Jingle Bells

-Doing NOTHING ALL DAY

-Swimming at Papaw's house, him tuning up our car and me saying (because of the pin in his finger) "your dexterity is impeded," instead of "It ain't working too good."

-Adelaide jumping in the pool, unafraid, and Sadie's invention of the sea horse "water noodle"

-Adelaide and Josie walking on Papaw's back

-Going to Tweetsie!

-Playing with Sydney and Carson and Bryce at Heather's house (and dancing to Justin Bieber and sleeping commando :), Heather telling me that they are tough girls because even though they are like me (Sadie falling and hurting herself) she jumped up and said, "I'm okay!"

-Me going to try Thai food with Angela for my birthday (not a fan - tastes like LOTION) and then staying up late to go to Ruby Tuesday's to laugh over my license picture, Mama's picture, and playing the Word Popper game

-Breakfast with Derek and Theda with Jedidiah and Adelaide

-Adelaide helping make Oreo cakes in Great Grandma's kitchen

-Swimming at Chasity's and loving Dalton, playing tag, doing flips, taking piggy-back rides with Noah, eating Noah's yummy mac-n-cheese recipe

-Adelaide being so tired she was staggering around like she was drunk

-Josie being so tired she was MEAN

-Taking naps then going to swim with Lauren & Angela at Papaw's house, ordering pizza for supper and Papaw playing with Jed at the pool while Mamaw brought all the food to the picnic table in a big laundry basket

-Visiting with Taylor and Evelyn at Great Grandma's

-Me going with Josh to Walmart and him cracking me up by being Captain Obvious when we couldn't get in the locked doors and "the cereal is probably down the cereal aisle."

No Such thing as Typical

It’s 8:30 on a Tuesday night.

We had dinner, cleaned up, played with the dog and took a walk around the block. We bought a head of cabbage from a neighbor who sells vegetables from his garden.

I’ve given Jedidiah his bath and settled him into his crib; his sisters are still running around outside, getting a few more minutes of playing in before bedtime. I squeeze in a few minutes of scrapbooking as my husband finishes up with the mower outside.

It’s a typical night at our house.

Sadie is practicing the baton moves she learned at camp a few weeks ago. The silver flashes in the setting sun as she twirls it, her wrist a blur. Josie draws on the driveway with neon sidewalk chalk, her hands bright green and dusty, a pink and yellow sun sprawling next to her outstretched leg. Adelaide balances on the swing, pushing herself back with her tiptoes and staring into the branches of the tree above her. I work, cutting and pasting, and I’m alone with my thoughts.

As a mom, each section of my life seems to last an eternity. It doesn’t seem like I will ever be done changing diapers, like I will ever get a full night’s sleep again.

As I look back, though, it seems as if time has flown by. Sometimes I get bogged down with the mundane tasks I face every day. The laundry. The cleaning. The whining. The cooking. Sometimes it’s so repetitive and boring. But I realize that before I know it, my house will be full of teenagers and hormones and drama, so I should enjoy the simple monotony – the daily boredom – while I still have that luxury.

Looking through my scrapbook, I see visual tokens of my memories. I know that newborns and delivery rooms and baby showers are part of my past. Folding baby clothes, hearing first words and watching first steps are quickly becoming a part of that past, too. I know that dealing with broken hearts and developing friendships with my children are part of my future.

It seems like every time I think I have everything under control, like I finally feel like I might know what I’m doing, life changes again. Motherhood changes again. I am in constant limbo, constantly adapting to what these beautiful creatures do and learn with each passing day.

The only certain thing is uncertainty.

I call the girls inside and help them into the tub. I revel in their silliness, the shampoo horns in their hair and the bubble beards on their chins. I try to live for the moment and not worry about all the water on the floor or the heap of dirty clothes in the corner.

I listen to their laughter as they enjoy the simple pleasure of taking a bath. I help them brush their teeth, in all stages of development – little pearly baby teeth, barely showing permanent teeth poking up in empty spaces, grown-up teeth that seem just a bit too big for a 7-year-old mouth.

I’m surrounded by the normality that is my daily life.

But then, imperceptibly, a new normal will sneak in and take its place. What was normal will become just a memory. A memory of how they used to interact with each other. A memory of how they used to talk, to sing, to giggle. A memory of how they used to be with me. A memory of who I used to be with them.

Tuesday night won’t ever be the same again.


from my 8/21/11 Mama Says article for www.mentorpatch.com

Dorofee and the Wicked Witch

“I’m Dorofee!” Adelaide insisted.

She clutched her stuffed Toto dog to her chest and squinted up at me. “There’s no place like home and I am DORO-FEE!”

After we finished reading the book, Sadie, Josie and I had a "Wizard of Oz Party.” Adelaide, filled in on the highlights of the story by her sisters, insisted that she was going to watch, too.

So with glitter all over the floor and our newly minted Emerald City nametags in place, the girls and I filled our popcorn bowls and settled in for the long-awaited film debut. Sure that she would be terrified of the Wicked Witch of the West, I fully intended to keep 3-year-old Adelaide away from the TV.

But I underestimated her sneakiness. Though she was supposed to be in bed, she tiptoed in and watched silently from behind the couch. Sadie, Josie and I, engrossed in what’s arguably the best movie of all time, didn’t really notice the obsession developing in the small person behind the furniture.

Not only was she not terrified of the Wicked Witch, she thought the witch was funny! What? That green skin and wild cackle still creep me out, and I am an adult!

Now, when her sisters occasionally quote The Mayor of Munchkin City in silly voices, Adelaide responds with a resounding “Sing it low, sing it LOW!”

She goes a bit overboard. She has been won over by munchkins, broomsticks, "scarecwows,” and “wions.” She is officially obsessed.

When I gave her some little sparkly red shoes, she was ecstatic. Now, she wears her “Dorofee shoes” to church, to play in outside (in the snow or on the beach), to play dress-up, to go to the playground – everywhere.

At any moment, you may see her with her right leg poised in the air, toes pointed, ready to take that famous first dance step down the “yellow bwick woad.” You may hear her singing “Weeee’re OFF to see the wizard! The wonderful wizard of Oz!” or “Somewhere over the wainbow, bluebirds fwyyy….”

You may find yourself being propositioned: “Will you be my Tin Man?”

You may fall victim to her as she crouches behind the bathroom door, ready to jump out with a roar at unsuspecting passersby, yelling, “Somebody pulled my tail!”

For her third birthday, her grandma made her a beautiful blue-and-white gingham “Dorofee dress.” Never has there been more excitement – more fanfare – made about a dress. Adelaide could not wait to put it on, zip it up, twirl around and fall down into a field of imaginary poppies.

She insisted on wearing it to church the next day with her hair in pigtails, sparkly red shoes on her feet and basket (with stuffed Toto) in hand. To those who asked about her dress, she replied, “I just like it so much because I like Dorofee! And Grandma made it for me! And I want to go over the wainbow because it’s so pretty!"

When I check on her at night, I find her cuddled up to her dress, no doubt dreaming of rainbows and talking trees. When I ask her why she likes the story, she sings, “Because! Because, because, because because because! Because of the wonderful things he does!"

Her sisters have long since gotten over their initial excitement, but Adelaide can’t take a hint. When she told Josie, “You can help me fly over the wainbow. With an airplane! Let’s go!” Josie said, “Why don’t you just go?”

Tired of hearing about “lions and tigers and bears” from their little sister, they refuse to be either a good witch OR a bad witch during playtime.

Therefore, I am constantly forced into the role of the Wicked Witch. I’m beginning to get a complex.

Unfortunately for the rest of us, when you want to pretend to be Dorofee, there really is no place like home.


from my 8/14/11 article for www.mentorpach.com

Mommy Loves Jeddy!

I love the way he waves his chubby little hands back and forth, bending at the wrists, while he's sitting in his high chair.

I love the way he hooks his little toes underneath the tray while he's eating.

I love the way he looks at me while he's nursing, like I'm the best thing in the world.

I love his belly laughs when his sisters goof off for him or when his daddy tickles him.

I love the way he sticks two fingers of his left hand in his mouth and rolls on his side to go to sleep (even though he won't let me ROCK him to sleep).

I love how he looks so proud of himself when he "stands up" while I hold his hands.

I love how he says "ma-ma-ma-ma-ma" and "Dad! Dad-dad-dad!"

I love how he plays quietly in his crib, looking all around with his big blue eyes, and then bursts into a brilliant grin when he sees me come in the room.

I love how he kick, kick, kicks his rolly little legs when he's excited.

I love the "angry wookie" sound he makes when he's mad.

Josie-bean is 6!

Josie's birthday always seems to get skipped over, because it's right in the middle of things. It's during our Bible Day Camp week at church, and it's right before The Gathering Bible School that lots of people go to. She seems to always get the shaft! It makes me feel bad for her. Well, at least it DID until this year. This year, she informed me that she really didn't want a party. She wanted a sleepover instead. I thought, hey, that works for me! We had a fun little tea party (with lacy tablecloth, fancy tea cups, the works) with the cutest little cucumber sandwiches with edible flowers (sent over by Laura with Sarah, Meghan, and Joyelle) AND pretty chocolate and vanilla cupcakes with flower rings on top.

Not only did we have a little party (with sprinkler, icing donuts, and dress-up) at Grammie's on Thursday, not only did the Bible Day Campers sing Happy Birthday to Josie, not only did Lydia and Darryl take her to the mall and to El Rodeo, not only did she get to go with her daddy to Toys-R-Us to pick out a special toy... she had her tea party and sleepover too. I guess she didn't get the shaft after all! :)

Josie often tells me that she doesn't want to grow up - that she wants to be my little girl forever. I tell her that she WILL be my baby forever, even when she IS grown up! That usually makes her smile, but she still says she's always going to live here with me and her daddy. :)

Summer Says

Adelaide: "Daddy looks like a girl. But only when we put flowers in his hair."

Sadie, after receiving another letter from her pen pal Courtney in NC: "Mommy, I just don't think I'm cut out for this pen pal thing.

Josie came running in the house tonight after we had a "family yard work night," mowing, weedeating, and pulling weeds. Breathless, she ran up to me and said, "Mommy! I got a wish for you!" She held out a lone little dandelion. "Since you didn't get to make a wish at the fountain today (I gave them nickels at the zoo) I thought you could make a wish with this instead!" SO SWEET. She's been super sweet to me for three days, wanting to hold my hand, snuggle, and say cute stuff to me - like "You're the best mommy in the whole world. Or even if there WAS another world, you'd be the best mommy in that one, too." That Josie... she just makes me smile. :)

Who Am I?

I am not a supermodel. I am not a millionaire. I am not a philanthropist, a world-traveler or a jet-setter. I am not a rock star; I don’t have a reality show. By the world’s standards, I am not very important. I drive a minivan, not a limo.

So who am I?

I am the wake-upper, bed-maker, teeth-brusher.

I am the breakfast-cooker, juice-pourer, apple-cutter.

I am the dish-washer, table-wiper, floor-sweeper, vitamin-giver.

I am the laundry-doer, clothes-folder, basket-carrier, dress-hanger, sock-finder.

I am the wish-hearer, doll-fixer, story-teller.

I am the book-reader, swing-pusher, puzzle-solver.

I am the game-player, Play-doh squisher, bubble-blower.

I am the cheese-slicer, sandwich-maker, juice-box-opener.

I am the hug-giver, boo-boo-kisser, Band-aid-sticker.

I am the hand-holder, car-seat-buckler, stroller-pusher.

I am the scrapbooker, picture-taker, history-keeper, photo-framer.

I am the TV-policer, grocery-shopper, mess-cleaner.

I am the bath-giver, hair-brusher, diaper-changer, baby-snuggler.

I am the prayer-listener, lullaby-singer, tucker-inner, lock-checker.

I am the shadow-chaser, bee-smacker, spider-stomper.

I am the tear-drier, nose-wiper, potty-taker, hand-washer.

I am the up-all-nighter, hold-on-tighter, monster-fighter.

Who am I, you ask?

I am Mom.


-from my 7/31/11 article from www.mentorpatch.com

This is The Pits

Last week I ate a peach for the first time in thirty-one years.

I’m from the South, so it’s kind of a sacrilege that I have chosen not to partake in this fuzzy nectar of the gods for the past three decades.

No, I’m not allergic. I have a much deeper and more disturbing reason.

I had a nightmare when I was three or four years old. Amazingly, even after all this time, it is still vivid in my mind. There was a balding actor in The Electric Company, a kids’ show that used to come on PBS after Sesame Street.

I normally had no problem with this guy, but in my nightmare, he chased down my mother and pulled out her eyeballs. Then he replaced them with peach pits! She came staggering toward me with her arms stretched out like a peach-pit-eyed zombie. I woke up completely traumatized.

From that night on, I could not eat a peach.

When I was about 15, I had nearly overcome my phobia… or so I thought. My mom, however, with her twisted sense of humor, caused a relapse.

One day, she called, “Hey, Devone, come in here and look at this!"

Naively, I assumed she just had something interesting to show me, but when I came into the kitchen she turned around from the sink holding two revolting brown peach pits up to her eyes!

Of course, she nearly laughed her head off when I screamed my head off.

I’m not quite as warped (almost, but not quite) as my mom. Since my kids love fruit – apples, berries, oranges, bananas, grapes, you name it – I realized that I have been selfishly depriving them the opportunity to make their own decisions regarding The Dreaded Peach.

Because I never allow them in my house, let alone search them out in the produce aisle, the girls are very limited when it comes to peach exposure.

Against my better judgment, I decided to bite the bullet/peach last week. On a whim, while I was at Sam’s Club, I bought a box of white peaches. (They seemed less threatening than the peach-colored ones, for some reason). I brought them home and watched as my kids slurpily devoured them, skins and all.

The next day, I found myself home alone. Cleaning out the dishwasher and minding my own business, my gaze came to rest upon the one solitary peach remaining on the premises.

It seemed to taunt me, staring up from its unassuming cardboard box. It was me against the peach. Woman versus fruit. I decided that I must prove my dominance over this tree-scourge.

I took it in my hand, drew in a deep breath, raised it to my lips, and took a bite.

Well, it didn’t kill me.

It was actually a bit anticlimactic.

I think my girls realize that I tend to be somewhat melodramatic; they seem relatively worry-free about my fruit fears. As a matter of fact, they are awaiting my next trip to Sam’s, since the peaches have long since run out. Maybe I’ll go this weekend.

In case you were wondering, though – the peach that I ate did not live up to the hype. But I'm open to the idea that it may have been psychological.


from my 7/24/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Joy Boy

Jedidiah is the most joyful baby boy in the whole world! Seriously, his little chubby, joyful, one-toothed smile is just BRILLIANT. He lights up the room. The way he peeks out of his little carrier, the way he smiles a shy smile, then cracks his whole face open in a giant smile and reaches his chubby hands out to grab your face or your hands...he is just a JOY. I can't describe him any other way. People actually stop what they are doing, wherever we are, to come over and talk to him and exclaim over his friendliness, beauty, and general unbelievable cuteness! I am so blessed to be his mommy.

Can I Be Your...

This week we have Bible Day Camp at church. It's a fun week for the kids, but it is steaming HOT at church, since there's no AC. Nothing like 60 kids plus 20 teens and adults packed together in a tight, breezeless space to make you melt into oblivion.

Anyway, enough about that. This year, Adelaide got to go to class ALL BY HERSELF. She was a little clingy at first, but once class started she was fine. Sadie and Josie are in different classes this year (which is probably a good thing). When I left them after singing "I want to walk, walk like Jesus," they were all set for an exciting day until I returned to pick them back up 3 hours later. Jedidiah and I went to the grocery store, he had a nap, and I did some reading. Then right as we were pulling back into the parking lot, my phone rang. It was one of the camp coordinators. She said that they had a situation, and I immediately said, "Oh no, did Adelaide have an accident?" She said, "Actually, it's your oldest... she's in the bathroom crying..." I parked and gave Jed to Miss Sue, then ran in to check on poor Sadie, who had had a bit of an accident. With tears in her little eyes and a pink, streaky face, she sat sniffling on the bench in the women's bathroom. I gave her a hug and in typical Sadie fashion she said, "Mommy, what began as a perfectly wonderful day at Bible Day Camp has turned into a nightmare!"

Once she calmed down we returned for the remainder of the first day. We took Bodhi and Gwendolyn home with us, and on the way, silly Adelaide kept saying, "OH BO-DHI! Can I be your GIRL-friend?" He kept laughing and said, "You are only 2 or 3 years old!" She said, indignantly, "I am THREE, so can I be your GIRL-friend? I can be your GIRL-friend, or can I be your TIN-MAN?"

And Now it's time for The Show!

It’s time to play the music, it’s time to light the lights … it’s time to get things started at the Lansing house tonight!

If you have kids, you have undoubtedly been to “A Show.” I don’t mean a movie or a play. No, I’m talking about “A Show” – one that involves your child performing something and you being the unwitting (and sometimes unwilling) member of the audience.

As I prepare to make dinner, I hear the familiar announcement: “Come on, Mommy! It’s time for The Show! Here’s your ticket. Have a seat. The show is about to begin!”

Indeed. The Show is definitely getting started. In makeshift dressing rooms set up in three corners of the living room, the stars of The Show adorn themselves.

Performer Number One wears a neon green swimsuit and black patent leather tap shoes. Performer Number Two wears a baby blue leotard with white and pink-striped socks (to expedite sliding on the hardwood floor). Performer Number Three, the shortest of the bunch, sports a hot pink tutu, a Tinkerbell T-shirt and bare feet.

The Show begins with Performer Number One’s dance solo. The audience (that is, me) is forced to hum the theme from Star Wars while watching her jump and turn half-cartwheels. She isn’t bad, but it’s hard to take her seriously when she trips on the edge of the recliner and says, “That’s part of it. That was part of it!”

Next, Performer Number Two does her routine. She sings Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star while she does the hula. She inadvertently cracks herself up when in the middle of her song, she interjects an extra (original) line containing the word "poop."

The third act begins with Performer Number Three standing on her tiptoes. She spins around, rolls her eyes back in her head belts out: “Somewhere over de wainbow, way up high, somewhere over the wainbow, birds and bluebirds high! Thank you! Thank you vewy much!”

I clap. I hoot and say “Encore! Encore!” though I don’t really mean it. I need to make dinner.

But we aren’t done yet, are we? When there’s a captive audience, A Show must go on.

As a finale, all three performers take the stage at the same time. Observing the size of our living room, I have to question the wisdom of this decision. I’m informed that “it’s OK because we already rehearsed.”

I cannot really describe the spectacle that ensues, but I will give you the highlights: Performer Number Two is inadvertently kicked in the arm by the flying left foot of Performer Number One. Performer Number Three twirls one too many times and dizzily smashes into the coffee table, nearly toppling the TV in the process. Performer Number One gracefully bows with a flourish and announces, “And now, we will conclude with me doing The Splits!”

She attempts The Splits, while Numbers Two and Three pose on either side of her, balancing precariously on one foot and waving their hands madly in the air.

I have to hand it to them. I was entertained.

I guess tonight it was dinner and a show.


From my July 17th article for www.mentorpatch.com

Talking bout My Girl

Adelaide, talking about anything small and/or new: Hey, dat's my newborn dress. Dat's your newborn brush. Is that your newborn doll?

Mommy: Adelaide, you are my girl!
Adelaide: Oh no I not! I am my OWN SELF's girl!

Adelaide, throwing her arms around my neck and giving me a hug: I love you, Mom! Now go and make me some breakfast!

Fun on the Fourth

I’ve always loved the Fourth of July.

There’s just something about the smell of summer in the air – steaks on the grill, hot pavement and freshly mowed grass. As a child, I loved to watch the heat lightning flash across the dark as I rode to town in the back of my daddy’s burgundy pickup truck to watch the fireworks with my cousins and friends.

I loved the sizzling sound they made as they rocketed upward and blossomed in the night sky.

On morning of the Fourth, my family looked forward to a long day of "doing nothing" followed by a night of fun, friends and fireworks.

We ate waffles, made Oreo cookie cake to share at the evening’s cookout and splashed in the kiddie pool. (Even the dog was not exempt.)

We watched my husband and his cousin put up a swing in our (very tall) tree, played with neighborhood kids and rode bikes, tricycles, scooters and power wheels (powered mainly by feet.)

Just before noon, sweet lilting notes came floating through the air across the neighborhood streets. Wonder of wonders! It was the ICE CREAM TRUCK!

After seeing the mixed look of joy, panic, hopefulness and frenzy on the kids’ faces, I broke the cardinal “no ice cream before lunch rule” and told Sadie to grab $4 from the jar on my dresser.

She came back like a flash, slamming the door and waving a fistful of dollars in the air, yelling, “I didn’t have time to count so I just grabbed it all!”

As if they were following the Pied Piper, the kids headed to the curb to pick out an ice cream (I made them choose from the $1 menu.)

We ended up with a watermelon popsicle, a bubblegum pop, a cotton candy freeze and one Bomb Pop. The girls were thrilled with their unexpected frozen treats, and I was thrilled because you just can’t get much more American than the ice cream truck on the Fourth of July.

We took turns flying through the air on the new swing. Between squeals and shrieks of delight, we could hear the pop-pop-pops in the distance of someone down the street getting a head start with their firecrackers.

We ate hotdogs and marshmallows roasted over our new and improved fire pit. We spent the evening with friends, new and old. We caught lightning bugs, squirted the water hose and went barefoot. We whirled with sparklers and caught the little parachute guys that fell from the exploding fireworks above us.

We flew our flags and wore red, white and blue.

When my girls said their prayers that night, they gave thanks that we live in America. Without any prompting from me, they bowed their little heads and gave thanks that we are free.

The law may not allow my kids to ride in the back of a pickup truck the way I used to, but I think they will still grow up to love the Fourth of July.


-From my article on July 10, 2011 for www.mentorpatch.com

Say Cheese

Last night we went to Lowe's and while we were in the garden center, we looked around at all the fountains. The girls love fountains! When we got back to the car, Adelaide said, "Oh no, I forgot my purse! And it had my moneys in it to throw, to throw, to throw into de fountain! And I wanted to make a wish wif it!" I asked her what she would wish for, and she said, "Gold! I would wish for TWO golds!" Sadie, from the back seat, piped up, in true Sadie fashion, "I would wish for peace and love." Josie, however, said, "I would wish for CHEESE!"

Separation Anxiety

Last week Sadie and Josie went to a weeklong day camp offered by the City of Mentor. Unless you count The Eagle’s Nest at the supermarket, it was the first time they had ever been left alone by me with people that I don't really know. They were just a little bit apprehensive, since I had explained that I’d be dropping them off each day instead of staying there with them.

I have to admit that even though I did my homework on the camp itself, the leader of said camp and the history of the programs the city offers, I was still somewhat of a nervous wreck the first day.

We got up early, had a protein-laden breakfast and got everyone loaded into the car. As I buckled their little sister and baby brother into their respective car seats, I went over the checklist with Sadie and Josie.

“Shorts and T-shirt?” “Check.”

“Sunscreen and bug spray?” “Check.”

“Water bottle with your name on it?” “Check.”

“Snacks and ponytail holders?” “Check.”

On the way there, I must have told them 20 times not to leave their class for ANY reason. To stay WITH their class at ALL times. To ONLY talk to their teacher and counselors and fellow campers. To ONLY go potty during designated potty breaks.

Once we arrived and I checked them in, they deposited their water bottles and approached the group forming in the grassy field. Tentatively, they checked out all of the potential new friends. Some kids were crying for their moms; one little girl was actually holding on to her mother’s leg like you see in cartoons.

My girls seemed to have no problem with leaving me once they saw the soccer balls and water balloons. They each gave me a kiss and a hug and bounded away through the dewy grass to await instructions from someone in charge.

I’m glad that they don’t suffer from separation anxiety, but as I left them with the whistle-wielding instructor, the giggling bunch of kids and the harried counselors, it was difficult. Not for them, though. For me.

I turned back to look at them, standing there on the sidelines of the soccer field and bouncing from one foot to the other. Josie reached over and took Sadie’s hand. Seeing them there, I watched from a distance as these two little people – people that I grew in my own body, under my own heart – existed and did just fine and dandy without me. I felt an actual ache inside. The ache was somewhere in the vicinity of my heart. It’s silly, I know.

Each day was a little better than the one before, and by the end of the week, we had successfully developed a routine. The girls had a blast and I (though still kind of nervous each day as I drove away) was able to leave not only the parking lot but actually drive down the street!

Now, camp is over. They learned, they made friends, they had fun. We made it through.

And I think I’m more proud of myself than I am of them.


From my July 3, 2011 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Josie and Adelaide... whaddya say?

Josie: This is the best day ever. Wait, EVERY day is the best day ever!

Adelaide: I don't like zucchini. I don't like squash. I don't like carrots. I don't like lettuce. Mommy: What vegetable DO you like? Adelaide: I like waffles.

Josie, disgusted with life because she didn't get to wear makeup and some crazy outfit she picked out, said, "Life isn't supposed to be miserable!"

Grammie Gail brought Adelaide a new (to her anyway) purple car that you pedal with your feet. It was a big hit. Even Sadie tried to squash her long lanky legs into it. Yesterday, Josie, desperate to give it a try, was trying to bribe Adealaide to get out of it. She said, "PLEASE, Adelaide! I will give you some candy!" Adelaide, ever the suspicious one, narrowed her eyes and said, "What kind of candy do you have?" Josie thought for a second. "Blueberry! Blueberry is delicious! I'll give it to you if I ever have some!"

Today, Josie had dibbs on the little splash pool. She was having a good old time "waveboarding" with the plastic lid of the Little Tikes toybox. Adelaide decided SHE needed a turn. Josie said (I think in retribution for yesterday's purple car scenario), "Addie, would YOU like a turn? Would you?" Adelaide said, "YES!! I want a TURN! and you can ride in my car ALL DAY!"

The Older the Better

Sadie, bemoaning the fact that she is the oldest and has to help take care of her siblings, was trying to find the bright side. "I guess it's good that I get to stay up late sometimes, and I get to do lots of things first," she said, "Like watching Star Wars, for instance, and stuff like that....But one thing that is BAD is that I will also have to DIE first."

Squishy

Jedidiah is pretty much the cutest baby ever. And he is SO GOOD. He is a happy, bubbly, gurgling, squealing, smiling, chubby, bundle of CUTENESS. The other day I wrote him a letter:

Dear Baby Jedidiah,
Please stop getting cuter every day, because you are already so cute that I can barely stand it.
Love, Mommy

I find it hard not to squish him! He makes me so happy every day...just to see how glad he is to be alive every morning, and how happy he is to see me. What a gift he is :)

Camp

This week Sadie and Josie went to Junior Sports Camp at a park close to our house. Other than Safety Town, it was the first time they'd ever been left ALONE by me with people that I don't know. Let me just say that I was somewhat of a nervous wreck when I left there on the first day. I must've told them twenty times not to leave their class for ANY reason... to stay WITH their class at ALL times... to ONLY talk to their teacher and counselors and fellow campers. Still, when I drove away, leaving them there with their canteens, their sunscreen, their bugspray, their t-shirts, their shorts, and their tennis shoes, it was hard. I turned back to look at them, standing there on the sidelines of the soccer field, holding hands, and I felt an actual ache in my heart. Silly, I know. But still!

BOOOOO!

Sadie and Josie have taught their sister well. Last week Adelaide literally almost scared me to death. I had gone to the store and left the kids home with my mom. When I got back, I pulled into the garage and came in through the utility room door. When I opened the door to come into the dark utility room, Adelaide, who had been hiding, CROUCHED IN THE DARK BEHIND THE DOOR, jumped out from behind it and yelled "BOOOO!" at the top of her lungs. I nearly peed my pants.

Thanks a lot

Mommy: Josie, come and snuggle with me!
Josie: Mom, I really do love you, but I just want to watch a cartoon.

Mommy: Adelaide, do you know what peace is?
Adelaide: Yeah, Mom. A peace of bread.

Mommy: Josie, would you like some apple juice?
Josie: Nah... Not a big fan.

Mommy: I'm feeling much better lately.
Sadie: Yeah, you really do play outside with us more, you don't take as many naps, and you don't have as many headaches, either! This eating healthy thing is good!

Mommy: C says "ck," like "candy."
Adelaide: Do you have some candy?
Mommy: No.
Adelaide: Thanks a lot, Mom.

Scootin' into Summer

It’s 7:30 on an evening in early June. The sun, which we welcomed once it finally showed up, is now descending.

The heat, coupled with the mild breeze off the lake, has turned our neighborhood into what feels like the Ohio version of the West Indies.

Summer seems to have finally arrived, and my family decides to go for a walk.

I load Jedidiah into the stroller, taking extra care not to pinch his chubby little hands in the buckle since he’s trying to grab everything these days. I pull the little socks off his feet so he can relax and “air out” his pink toes.

There is a discussion of walking versus “scooting,” that is, riding on a scooter. It is decided that Daddy will walk with the dog, Mommy will walk with the stroller and the three girls will scoot on their scooters.

They “suit up,” since there is no way I’m letting them ride anything out on the street without some head protection. They are my kids, after all, and I’m the world’s biggest klutz. I secretly wish that they’d wear their bike helmets around the house, especially on our slippery kitchen floor.

Sadie puts on her new purple helmet with the pink rubber cat ears sticking out on top. She says she feels a little bit silly in it, but I think it’s the cutest thing ever! She should consider herself lucky – I almost bought the one with the long bunny ears. She hops on her scooter and spins off down the driveway.

I remember when she couldn’t stay upright for more than a few feet. Now she can fly on that thing! She easily catches up to her dad, who has gone on ahead with the puppy. She screeches to a stop (as much as a scooter can screech) next to them at the stop sign.

Adelaide, four years younger but not to be outdone, holds on tight to her little three-wheeled Princess scooter (complete with flashing red lights on the wheels), a hand-me-down from two Christmases ago. She bends her already skinned-up knees and throws caution to the wind as she tries to catch up with Sadie; I’m glad she’s so short that she doesn’t have far to fall.

Josie decides to go back in the house for one more sip of water, so we are last. I watch as she carefully puts one flip-flop clad foot on her fancy pink Razor scooter. She stops and “dismounts” to push when she gets to the bottom of the driveway, completely unashamed that she’s scared to go over the bump where it meets the street the way her big sister does.

She just shrugs, grins, straightens out her little helmet by smacking it with her hand, looks both ways and takes off. I hear her voice channeling Tweety Bird as she rolls down the street: “Singin ' in the baff tub, happy once again, watchin' all my twubbles, go swingin' down the dwain!”

As I maneuver the stroller to catch up with the rest of my family, Jedidiah is kicking his little feet like crazy. He leans his fuzzy head over the side of the stroller tray to get a birds’ eye view of the pavement rolling by under the wheels. He squeals an ear-splitting squeal – his trademark of sheer joy (or sometimes of major annoyance, depending on whether or not he’s hungry) and says “Goo!” I laugh.

I see my husband, holding on to the dog’s leash and watching to make sure everyone checks traffic. I see Sadie and Josie, goofing off and doing figure eights around each other. Josie is laughing, her whole face alight with 5-year-old joy. Sadie is hunkered down over her scooter handles, one lanky leg stretched straight out behind her – I never knew you could practice an arabesque on a scooter.

Adelaide is puffing along, trying to catch up to them. Looking over her shoulder, she decides to stick with me and her baby brother instead, since we are going more her speed. She says, “Woo wee, Mommy. I am HOT, Mom! And I am going very fast! I like this scooter but I do not like this helmet.”

I’m hot too, and the stroller isn’t getting any lighter. But right now, the summer beckons. It stretches out before us, full of possibility. So let’s all scoot!

-from my Mama Says column for 6/12/11 on www.mentorpatch.com

She's Killin' Me

Adelaide is seriously cracking me the heck up these days.

The other day, we were riding in the car and I hear her little voice behind me, talking really low but MEAN. She said, "You guys are NOT being vewy nice. You need to just stop it. I said to STOP IT WIGHT NOW." I asked her who she was talking to. She said with a grin, "My shoes. My flip-flops. One shoe is a boy and one shoe is a girl and they are my kids. And they are NOT being vewy nice."

Last week, we were sitting at the kitchen table when Lydia came in for work. Adelaide glanced up, looked back down at her breakfast, and muttered in her low little voice: "And THEN there was Lydia...."

That very same day, Jedidiah was drooling up a storm. His teeth are on the verge of coming in, and the drool is now saturating everything he wears (and some things he's not). Adelaide, unable to resist her brother's cuteness, finally laid a big smooch on him and said, "I kissed him on he's dirty mouf!"

Yesterday, we read the story of Swan Lake and, mesmerized, she kept talking about it for hours. Unfortunately, while she remembered the plotline, she could not remember the TITLE. She renamed the story "The Magic Duck."

Today, when I told her it was almost naptime, she squinted up her nose and eyes, looked at me and said, "Humph! I not takin a nap for the WEST of my WIFE!"

Do You Know?

Last Sunday Jesse was sick and we all overslept (mainly because Jed had me up three different times and since Jesse was sick I turned the alarm off). So we missed our church's Sunday School. The kids really don't like to miss Sunday School, so I loaded them up and took them to "Children's Church" at a church that is literally 2 minutes from our house (our church is half an hour away). They had a good time and really seemed to enjoy it, but the teacher in Sadie's class gave her a little welcome packet with a pen, some candy, and some literature in it. You can imagine how I laughed when I heard her reading to Josie in the backseat:

"Josie. Hey, Josie. Josie. Do YOU know what you must do to be saved? Do you? Josie. Look at this. Do you know what you must do?"

Josie, annoyed, and trying to look at her OWN welcome packet, finally yelled, "NO! NO, I do NOT!"

Things I love These Days:

How Adelaide says, "Pull the covers over my head!" when she's getting ready to go to sleep and how when she wakes up in the morning she stumbles into my room with a big smile and a "Good morning, Mommy!"

How Jedidiah plops the first two fingers of his left hand into his mouth as soon as I put him down in his crib. If I pull them out, he S..L..O..W..L..Y plops them right back in again! I also love how he leans his head ALL the way over to the side when he's trying to get a good look at someone and how he snuggles his little head down into my shoulder when I'm carrying him.

How Josie loves to work on her schoolwork... she's so determined to know everything now! She practices her reading until she gets it all right. She writes crazy big words like "scientifically" on her schoolwork, even though she has no idea how to spell them. She carefully copies down the biggest, hardest words she can find. She loves figuring things out and she helps around the house like crazy. She is so thoughtful and proactive!

How Sadie likes to 'mommy' Jedidiah and Adelaide. Without my even asking her, I'll find her snuggling them, reading books to them, helping her sister wash her hands or put on her shoes, or helping Jedidiah get his rattle or wipe drool off his chin. She's such a good big sister. :)

The Simple Things

I am sitting in my sunny kitchen, looking out the window, watching my children as they run around on their strong sturdy little legs, “Tag! You’re it!” Their voices float back through the warm afternoon.

For the moment, I’m not afraid that they’ll be kidnapped, or run over, or shot in a drive-by shooting. I’m not scared that they may have some debilitating disease yet to be discovered. I don’t worry that missiles may be dropped on our yard or that a terrorist may set off a bomb down the street. My children are safe. They are happy playing tag, eating Popsicles in their swimsuits, yelling back and forth at their cousins who have come over to play. They are stomping in puddles, drinking from the hose, squishing their toes in the mud.

They are experts in the field of enjoying simple pleasures.

I think to myself how often I take these little things for granted. Every day I can hear the birds singing. Every day I can hear my little girl calling “Ready, set, go!” I can hug my family. I can call my friend just to say "hi."

Not everyone can.

I look out at the blue sky, I see the dandelion fluff floating through the air, my little girl's chubby cheeks, her brilliant smile. I snuggle my baby boy closer to my heart, smelling the sweet baby smell of his hair.

Not everyone can do that.

Too often, I forget to "stop and smell the roses." Too often, I forget that each moment is a gift. I am guilty of feeling that I deserve these things. I feel entitled.

I am not.

This week I got terrible news from a friend who is just my age. She was just diagnosed with a terrifying medical condition; she has a little girl the same age as my Adelaide. This week my father-in-law had a stroke, which could’ve easily been fatal.

Life is fragile. In the blink of an eye, all that we know and love can change.

We aren’t guaranteed one more day.

Healthy legs to run and play. Healthy arms for reaching to the sky, for reaching to hug someone we love. Healthy eyes to see, healthy ears to hear. A safe yard to play in, a family to love and be loved by. A police force to keep the peace. A trash collector to haul away the garbage so my yard is clean. A husband who can pay the bills so we can live here. A country where I am free to raise my kids the way I see fit, to worship God the way I choose. A blessed life.

I guess I had somehow forgotten, but these recent events have helped me remember. Now I remember:

I am thankful.

-From my May 28th article for www.mentorpatch.com

Adelaide is Three

Tomorrow my baby girl will be 3 years old.

Tonight I thought to myself that this was the very last night I would be tucking in my 2-year-old Adelaide. The last time I’d be singing her 2-year-old self the special bedtime song I made up for her when she was a newborn.

I looked at the framed portrait of her on her first birthday, with her little shark-fin hairdo, her mischievous little impish grin. I can’t believe that her baby years have gone by so fast.

I remember the way I felt when they put her in my arms for the first time at Lake East hospital.

I was weak, tired and still drugged from my C-section, but her rosebud lips and sweet chubby cheeks were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. (Well, since my other two babies were born, anyway.) I felt a fierce, protective love for her immediately.

Life with her since then has been so much fun – she makes me laugh every day with her low, elfin voice, her constant questions and her repetitive use of my name:

“Mom, did you see that, Mom?” “Mom, will you dance with me, Mom?” “Hey, Mom, can I have a cookie, Mom?” “Thanks, Mom! Mommy, thanks!” “Mom, good morning, Mommy! Did you have a good nap? “Oh, Mom, I love ya, Mom!” “Mommy, you are the best mommy!”

There are random things that I love about the 2-year-old Adelaide: the way she refuses to sleep without the covers up over her head. The way she wears her red sparkly “Dorofee” shoes everywhere she goes. The way she asks, “Can I give you a kiss and a hug?” before she throws her little arms around my neck. The way she puts her little hand in mine when we walk to the mailbox. The way she rolls, then squinches up her eyes and grins a sideways smile. The way she sings “What would I do wifout you?” at the top of her lungs in the car. The way she drops everything to “shake it” when she hears music start to play. The way she shadows me all around the house, “helping” in her own little 2-year-old way, informing me that “Mommy, I’m following you, Mom!”

She’s growing up as fast as she can, running as fast into her future as her little legs can carry her. For now, she’s always the last one to finish the race; she’s always tripping and getting boo-boos and running to me to “Kiss this boo-boo, Mommy! Kiss it Mom!”

I know she’s ready to be 3, and she’s so excited about her birthday party and her “pink cake wif a star on top.”

Though I will always cherish my sweet baby girl, my chatterbox 2-year-old, I can’t wait to find out what joys her next year will bring.

-from my Mama Says column on www.mentorpatch.com

Worms

Worms. Just saying the word gives me the willies.

I was never an avid fisherman (fisherwoman, I should say) since the only time I can remember my daddy taking me fishing was at a little pond close to our house.

We were fishing for carp, and to my 8-year-old self, it seemed like we were there in the dusty red-dirt heat for HOURS. It was one of those places common in the South where you could pay to fish, and the person who catches the biggest fish wins a prize.

He made me put my own worm on the hook, and well, frankly, that squishy/crunchy sound was just disgusting. After what seemed like an eternity when I could be home with my fashion-plates art set or my Pound Puppies, I finally, FINALLY got a bite. The thrill of reeling it in made the nasty worm-touching almost worth it!

It was a little fish – probably no more than six inches long, but I got one! I was so excited! I jumped up and down and grabbed it, ready to toss my floppy prize into my bucket. Well, to my dismay and ultimate fury, I learned that at this particular pond, you were supposed to throw your fish back into the water after it was measured. WHAT?! Are you kidding me? All that time wasted for nothing! I was furious. Needless to say, fishing and the tools of the trade (i.e., worms) left a bad taste in my mouth, and I haven’t done it since.

The universe had other ideas, obviously, since I married a man who has lived to fish since his grandpa taught him how when he was a little boy. Now he spends his free time teaching our older two daughters how, and eventually our 2-year-old and our baby son will be out there on the lake with him, too.

I’m not sure if it’s their constant need for bait or what, but now, in a strange twist of fate, all three of my girls are fascinated with worms. Ugh.

Josie, who is 5, has an especially close relationship with these invertebrates. When it rains, she’s the first one outside to conduct rescue missions. She spares them from certain death in mud puddles. She picks them up between her thumb and finger and very carefully relocates them to higher ground.

She’s also very paranoid when she happens to find one out in the sun. “Get him in the shade, quick! Worms need moisture!”

Sadie doesn’t seem to care for worms on such a personal level, but she does collect them and put them into her little plastic beach pail for scientific purposes. Last week we read about worms and she used her captures to count their segments and figure out where their mouths and “tails” were. “Look, Mom! He pooped! Worm poop! Ugh! Worm poop is just dirt! Weird!”

Indeed.

Weird that my cute little princess-dress-wearing, flower-picking, fingernail-painting, fairy-wing-loving girly girls love worms.

Wormy, Squirmy, and Herman the Worman (from one of our favorite stories: “I’m Herman the Worman, and I like my squirmin’ and I like being close to the ground, boom boom!”), most of the specimens my girls catch have even been christened with names.

Adelaide, who isn’t even 3 yet, has now taken up the worm torch alongside her sisters. Each morning when she wakes up, she checks the weather out the kitchen window and says, “Can we wook for worms today? Under the wocks? Can we, Mommy?”

Maybe it’s the hunt – the mystery of finding out just what is out there under that big rock, or what’s under the surface of the water tugging on your line. Maybe it’s the gamble – the next shovelful of dirt will be the jackpot, or the next cast will land The Big One, I just know it!

Whatever it is, I personally don’t get the appeal.

Worms. Blech.

-From my May 22nd article on www.mentorpatch.com

What's Up Duck?

Adelaide took over reading the Bible for me at breakfast one morning. She turned the pages a little too hard for Sadie's liking: "Adelaide, you're being too rough on God's word!"
Adelaide looked all around her and said, "Hummpph. God's not here."

Recently introduced to the wonderful world of Looney Tunes, the girls can't get enough of Tweety, Sylvester, and the Wascally Wabbit. However, Adelaide can't ever seem to remember the particulars. She tells me on Saturday morning that she wants to watch Bugs Rabbit, then quips: "Eh...what's up, Duck?"

When we went to look for mattresses last week (Jesse's and my mattress is completely shot and we desperately need a new one... I wake up with a different backache every day, so hopefully a new one will alleviate some of the pain), Adelaide came across this stuffed animal sheep (the Serta Sheep) on one of the displays. Immediately, her finger went right into the sheep nostril and she sang out, "Hey, look! I'm picking he's nose!"

Not the End...

Sadie has taken to washing with her Daddy's bodywash whenever she's in the shower. She thinks it smells so good (it does) and she seems to feel like she's getting away with something whenever she loofahs it up! It's kind of disconcerting when she sits on my lap, though. She smells like Jesse!

When it was time to go inside after a day of playing outside, Sadie, true to her Grandma Beth's influence, spreads her arms wide and shouts to the sky, "Nature is MY playroom, Mommy!"

Josie has big plans which she confided to me. "Well, when I'm six, I'll be able to read, ride my 2 wheeler, and write stories all by myself...."

Jed did his first ever "zurbeck" on my arm, then laughed and looked mightly pleased with himself. :)

And, all in all, our family had a good day on the so-called end of the world day = a good day. We went on a family bike ride, Adelaide with her arm around Jed behind me in the bike trailer, Josie out in front doing it all by herself, Sadie going too fast and jumping the bumps in the broken sidewalk. Later we went to Geneva-on-the-Lake and had supper on the front porch of a little family restaurant. Later we played on the beach, finding pretty rocks, looking for beach glass, and Adelaide found a dinosaur bone (a big piece of smooth driftwood).

Mother's Day Gifts...

"What do you want for Mother’s Day?” my husband asked me. Since I had been hoping for just such an opportunity, I was prepared.

“I want to be left alone.”

“What?” He seemed surprised.

“I want to be left all alone. All day.” Knowing that this was actually impossible, since I’m still nursing 6-month-old Jedidiah, I amended my request to being left all alone except for the baby. I never dreamed it would happen.

I had already received three nice cards – one from my mom, one from my stepmom, and one from my mother-in-law. Sadie had colored a picture for me, Josie had given me a dollar that she had saved from the Tooth Fairy, Adelaide had given me a big hug with a smooch and Jedidiah gave me a night with a 7-hour stretch between feedings and a huge toothless smile.

Since all of those were such excellent gifts, the only thing that could top them was every mom’s secret wish: a day off.

This is something that never happens. Mom doesn’t get a day off. Even though it’s called Mother’s Day, it’s common knowledge that mom still has to cook, clean, take care of kids, and do lots of other “mom stuff” on that day, possibly in the presence of a nice vase of flowers.

So imagine my surprise (no, my unparalleled glee!) when we came home from church and my excellent husband rounded up the three girls, changed them into play clothes and herded them into the van, leaving me with just the baby.

(If you happen to be blessed with more than one child, you know that having “just the baby” at home is pretty much like being on vacation. This only happens after you have more than one, though. When you have just one, you wonder how anyone ever survives with more than one).

So. It happened. I somehow ended up at home “alone.”

Once I put Jedidiah down for his nap, the house was eerily quiet. What to do, what to do? I didn’t want to fritter away my time – each moment was like gold! Oh, the possibilities! Take a nap? Clean my closet? Watch TV? No one was asking for chocolate milk! No one wanted me to make a snack! No one was tattling about their mean sister or crying for a Band-aid!

After much deliberation, I finally decided to catch up on my scrapbooking while I watched an entire Dateline (no pausing to help anyone go potty) and drank a whole cup of tea without anyone asking for a sip of it (then proceeding to gulp down the whole thing). Ahh.

Next, I took a nap. Yep, on my own bed in the middle of the day, I took a blissful, uninterrupted nap for 47 whole minutes! No one pounded down the stairs! No one stood next to the bed and stared at me until I woke up!

When I did wake up, of my own accord, I called my own mom and we made a plan. Later, she picked me up and we dropped the baby off with my husband, who was over at my in-laws’ house.

It was an unprecedented event: I was child-free!

My mom and I went out to dinner (Damon’s was giving away long-stemmed roses to every mother), we went shopping and then we went to the movies all by ourselves!

Even though I kept feeling like I had forgotten something really important – you know, in the restaurant or in the theater – I finally realized that it was my children I was forgetting and I was able to relax. By the end of the night, I felt rejuvenated and recharged.

I felt ready to be Mommy again. It was a good thing, too, judging from the exhausted look on my husband’s face when I got home.

I hope your Mother’s Day was as great as mine.

-From my 5/15/11 post on www.mentorpatch.com

Mother's Day

One of the best gifts that my children give to me is laughter.

Most of the time it seems that they don’t even know why they send me into hysterical bouts of giggling, which makes it even funnier. In honor of Mother’s Day, here are some of the most precious gifts my little girls have given me over the past few years:

Sadie to her dad when he mentioned he was going to get rid of some worn-out clothing: “Oh, just give it to Mommy … she likes to wear old worn-out stuff.”

While eating vegetarian sushi, Josie decided she wanted to use chopsticks, too. She said, “Hey, Mommy. Can I have some of those… those… those rice tweezers?”

Mommy: “Don’t forget to help with the dishwasher, Josie. That’s on your chore chart, you know.” Sadie: “She doesn’t do that one anymore. She retired.”

Josie came into the kitchen in her fancy dress-up princess dress. She gave me a sly look, wiggled her eyebrows and said, “Hey, Mommy. Guess what? I’m naked under my clothes.”

Adelaide, when asked if she wanted a new little brother or a little sister, replied, “I want a train set.”

Josie’s version of a classic: “Get outta the way, Old Dan Tucker! You’re too late to get your sucker!”

Sadie, dressed in a hot pink hoopskirt and upset over some injustice wrought by one of her sisters, huffed and flounced out the room, saying, “I’m leaving! This is no place for a lady!”

After much adorning from the dress-up box and primping in front of the mirror, I was informed that the girls had, much like the Muppets, finally succeeded in “dressing up right.”

Josie, who has decided that her main job is to be the head of the family’s “safety patrol,” polices everyone to find out if they are wearing their seat belt. My favorite citation: “Hey, Daddy! Put on your seat belt! I am the Safety Troll!”

One afternoon Sadie said, “Mommy, Adelaide needs a bath. Usually she smells good. But today she smells like poop and throw-up.”

Josie asked if I would read her “the book about Choke-a-pontas. I mean, Hocus-pontas. Um, Poca-chantas. (Sigh) You know, that Indian.”

Sadie, after a backseat discussion with Josie regarding whether or not Adelaide could play dress-up with them once we got home: “Well, I suppose we could tie some pants around her neck and she could be Superman ...”

At church during prayer, Adelaide decided she needed a snack. I whispered that she could have a snack when prayer was over. As the person who was praying finished up, everyone said, “Amen.” Then Adelaide piped up, in her LOUD 2-year-old voice, “AMEN! SNACK!”

Adelaide stole Sadie’s cookie. Sadie yelled, “Hey!” Josie grabbed the cookie from Adelaide and handed it back to Sadie. Adelaide screamed. Josie said, “Well, it wasn’t yours.” Sadie said, “Yeah, but the Bible says thou shalt not snatch.”

And now, I shall bid you a Happy Mother’s Day in the timeless words of one of my daughters’ favorite bears: “Wokka, wokka, wokka!”

From my May 8th Mama Says column on www.mentorpatch.com

Beautiful Boy

Jedidiah is growing up too fast... he's already SIX months old! I'm trying to make him stay little... I have not been at all encouraging when it comes to sitting up or talking. :) This is why the babies of the family ARE the babies... the moms know that they are the last ones and they just want to hold and cuddle them all they can, because they know that they'll grow up too fast, just like their older siblings! I love just holding him, snugglng him, and making him smile. I want to squeeze his little cheeks pretty much all the time. He is pretty much the most beautiful boy that has ever been!

A couple of funny things: Adelaide's new favorite saying, "Oh no I will not, Miss Poo!" and after the Great Clothing Changeover of 2011, Sadie was so excited: "I got new clothes - I look like a teenager!"

The Good Old Days

“You are growing up so fast!” Sadie, my just-turned-7-year-old, says to her little sister Josie as she pedals down the driveway on her two-wheeler.

“You are getting so smart!” Josie, my 5-year-old, says to her little sister Adelaide as she proudly uses her big-girl potty.

“You are so big, my wittle bwudder!” almost-3-year-old Adelaide says to her almost-6-month-old baby brother as he grabs for his rattle.

My children are constantly noticing and commenting on the milestones that each one of them achieves. They celebrate together, high-fiving each other and giving themselves big pats on the back. Watching them learn, grow and change together is bittersweet.

Sometimes, Adelaide spends the morning cuddling in bed with her closest-in-age sibling, pulling the covers over their heads and giggling when he gives her one of his drooly grins. “You are my vewy favowite fwiend,” she declares, then kisses him on top of the head and gives him a squeeze.

Later, Josie holds him on her lap with pillows all around her (“just in case he wiggles away and I accidentally drop him, Mommy. I do not want him to bang his little head!”).

When she doesn’t know I’m looking, I catch her gazing at him with the same adoring look she gave him in the hospital the night he was born. It’s like she’s never seen anyone so wonderful in all her five years. It melts my heart.

Soon after, I overhear her ask Sadie, “Do you remember when you were 4 and I was 3 and Daddy used to pick both of us up at the same time, you know, one in each arm? (Sigh). Yeah, those were the good old days.” I laugh when I hear this, wondering how someone so young can already be talking about the “good old days.”

Sadie, who sometimes seems older than her years, agrees with her sister. Then she sits and stretches out her long legs so her baby brother can lie down on top of them. She holds his teeny hands in hers and coaches him on sticking out his tongue: “Did you see that, Mom? I taught him that!”

Proud of this accomplishment, yet dealing with some unfamiliar emotions, she confides that she doesn’t really want him to grow up. She says with a sigh that she still remembers when Adelaide was a little baby, and it makes her kind of sad. She says that years go by really fast, and she liked it when life was easier back when she was a baby. She says she wishes she could stay a kid forever.

Teary-eyed, I say “Me too.”

I admit that some days I want to hide in the bathroom with the door locked until naptime. But I am not ready for them to grow up! Not yet. With my sweet – and probably last – baby boy, I really want to make his baby-ness last. I feel the same as Sadie feels, even though I’m already a grown-up. Sometimes I long for how things used to be, for the way I used to feel when I was a little girl. I want to grasp every minute – every second – of their quickly passing childhoods.

I think about Josie changing her baby brother’s diapers (but not the poopy ones), Sadie helping to give him baths and Adelaide playing peek-a-boo with him. I think about how even though they are still little girls, they are already showing signs of maturity. Even though they don’t leave me very much to do with the baby except nurse him, I think of one more thing:

Cherish this.

This is my column for www.mentorpatch.com published on May 1, 2011.

Hale's Bales

Sadie, Josie, and I went to Hale Farm and Village last week and it was so interesting! We got a "Life in the 1800's packet" to study beforehand, so they learned several sayings of the day. Josie's favorites were "Spare the rod and spoil the dog" (oh wait - she changed that:) and "Pulled the wool over YOUR eyes!" She's tricked me several times since then and laughs and laughs about it.

We also learned to "make a courtesy" (curtsy), how to make butter, that log houses were mortared with poop, we made Johnnycakes (YUM), we built a farm - on paper, of course - and Sadie liked the saying "Bought the farm!" We did the entire packet, and they had NO idea that they were learning. I love that about homeschooling. They learned more in a couple of days that they will always remember than they would've in a classroom, I'm sure!

We had a great day hanging out with our little group (mainly Jasmine and Camille - those girls are FUNNY) and learning lots of neat stuff. Josie's favorite part was the teacher in the one-room schoolhouse. All of the girls were very impressed by the way she came around to inspect their hands to see if they were clean or not, and the way she did her lessons. They also liked the punishments! Girls had to stand against the wall with a book on their heads for 5 minutes; if the book fell off, she had to add another 5 minutes! Harder than it looks! The boys, however, had to "toe the line" and get swatted! Youch!

The weather was gorgeous, too... not too cold, not too hot. It was VERY muddy and we were thankful for our new rubber boots! Up until about 2pm we were having a great time, hitting all the educational spots like the dairy, the Indian camp, the potter's shed, the church, the doctor's house, etc. but then a major thunderstorm blew in and they closed the place down! We were disappointed that we didn't make it to the General Store or the Blacksmith Shop, but we're planning on going back for a private trip with Becky and James, Teagan, and Ireson sometime later this summer.