Making Memories

“Be careful, Adelaide! Don’t squeeze that one too hard or it will break,” Sadie admonished her little sister. “We already broke one of those hearts last year. Remember how you cut your finger? And Mommy and Daddy got those when they first got married.”

We are decorating the tree, one of my (and my girls’) favorite Christmas-y things to do.

My earliest Christmas memories involve our tree. I got choked on a pine needle when I was about three, and I remember my panicked mother. I remember our little blond angel tree-topper who held a little red twinkle light in each hand (or maybe the lights were her hands). My favorite ornament was always a one-inch-tall Christmas elf in a red dress with a glittery umbrella. She always was at the top of the tree so I couldn’t snatch her down and break her.

I remember my silk-thread covered “baby ball” ornament from (gasp)
1976. The Elvis commemorative ornament my mom bought the year "the King" died. I remember the shiny gold unicorn with a white feather mane my parents brought me from a trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. I remember a satin circus horse with jointed legs. A Raggedy Andy on a swing, a tiny church with a green roof, a red jack-in-the-box, a miniature picnic basket.

As the years passed by, I added others: A gold jingle bell wreath my cousin made, an olive wood nativity from the Holy Land, a Hawaiian-shirt patterned mini stocking from a trip to the Ron Jon Surf Shop, a ball that used to hang on my grandmother's tree that looks like a peppermint candy.

These things, brought out only once a year and hung with near-reverence,have grown to mean a lot to me over the years. Now, I tell my children about them as we hang them on our tree. The girls like to know my favorites, the stories behind them, the “history of mom.” I am glad to tell them.

They also like to hear their own stories and hang their own ornaments. They each have their own “first Christmas” ornament from the year they were born; they seem to sense that these fragile things are very special, and they handle them with care. Sadie’s is a white heart with a baby handprint in the center. Josie has a blown-glass snowman holding a tiny green Christmas tree. Adelaide’s is a snowflake frame with her chubby-cheeked baby picture in the center, and Jedidiah’s is a Santa-hat-wearing baby bear swinging on a yellow moon.

Every year they each get a special ornament; this year it was carousel horses with their names on the saddles. They are living their own Christmas histories and they don’t even know it.

I’m not sure how long my heavily-laden tree will hold out – probably for another ten years or so before the first batch goes. My plan is to box up their individual ornaments for them to decorate their own trees with when they grow up (sniff) and move out (sniff).

The girls and I hang the luminescent manger scene, the last icicle and the “special ornaments” from 2007. And 2009. And the final reindeer.

We sit down on the couch and admire our sparkling masterpiece. Theytalk about which ornaments they like best and why. They talk about which carousel horse would win if they could race, and they wonder if the little angels come alive at night when everyone is asleep.

We sit there together and I realize that these things we’ve been adorning our tree with for the past two hours aren’t just Christmas decorations.

They are memories.


from my 12/11/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Off to see da wizard

Well, we are well into the swing of Christmas here. We put the tree up the day after Thanksgiving, and of course Jedidiah is ALL about it. He wants to climb it, eat it, point at it, oooh at it, smile at it, and yes, destroy it if given the least opportunity. He is so cute, and yet, he is a little menace. His looks are deceiving.

Last Saturday, Grandma Beth took us (Jesse, the three girls, and I) to see The Wizard of Oz onstage at The School of Fine Arts. They all dressed up in their little opera/Christmas dresses that Grammie Gail bought for them: Sadie's, long and purple, Josie's, burgandy and sweeping, and Adelaide's, golden and sparkly around the middle AND AND AND good for twirling, just like she likes them.

They were so excited and they had a fabulous time. Adelaide sat between me and Jesse and before the show started she was SO EXCITED she could hardly stand it. I loved watching her even more than the show. Her little eyes were so full of wonder and enchantment and even love at the thought of "HER" beloved Dorofee, up there on the stage. :)

There were some complaints afterward, though: the "girly" trees (from dad), the lack of a pointy black hat for the Wicked Witch (from me), the lack of a crown and a blue dress instead of pink for Glinda (from Sadie, the resident Glinda expert - she has experience, you know), the lack of a funnel hat for the Tin Man (from Josie, although she DID like his sparkly sequin one), and last but not least the lack of pigtails for Dorothy. The Scarecrow was the best singer, and the Lion was the funniest, if not the bravest :) The show was really cute; we all love watching live theater (well, maybe Jesse doesn't LOVE it, but he at least tolerates it these days of behalf of his daughters)... we are lucky to have a Grandma around who thinks these things are important!

Today, we all went to a really neat Christmas Tea at our church. Again, the girls donned their "gay apparel" and fancily bore their favorite teacups and saucers to church for a Christmasy tabled, holiday-flavored, fancy tea-fooded event. They even had their own little table with their own little specially made choclately mints. Their good manners were in place, thankfully, and we had a good time. Grammie came with us, and we all had fun playing the scavenger hunt (Aunt Becky and Terry won, of course) and then the kids gave up and played Duck Duck Goose in the hallway while still in their fancy dresses. :)

Jedidiah wore his little red zippered Christmas footie outfit with the white snowman snowglobes on it (the Baby Gap one complete with a stripey Santa hat). Unfortunately, when I was getting him out of his carseat and he was still in his coat, I heard a crunchy sound. It sounded like velcro, so I assumed it was something on his coat and I yanked him out. So of course, it was the leg of his little outfit and when I took his coat off, his little chubber-dubber roly-poly thigh was sticking out! Aunt Becky said it was a good tickling hole.

Peace, Love, and a Tom-Tom

My kids aren’t perfect. This was made clear to me as they played tug-of-war with the oatmeal container tom-tom we made last week.

I’m not perfect. This was made clear to me when I yelled, “I will TAKE that tom-tom and THROW it out the WINDOW!”

We all have our faults. We’ve all made mistakes throughout the years. I make mistakes every single day of my life!

“Stop that tapping!” I yelled. My afternoon reverie, interrupted by a mind-numbing repetitive noise, was not to be. “Do not even THINK about tying your sister up and hitting her with that tomahawk!”

My girls, wearing paper feather headdresses while they sculpted a settlers’ colony out of Play-doh, were totally wired up. They are excited about the days we’ll be spending with friends, the food, the presents, the parties, the general “festiveness” of it all. They have been constantly chattering, singing loudly, squealing shrilly, jumping up and down excitedly and getting glitter everywhere.

I won’t lie. They have also been completely getting on my nerves. I’ve been
thinking about asking for a good set of earplugs this Christmas.

There is so much that needs to be done – my to-do list is literally three pages long. Naturally, my mind is on everything that needs to be purchased, wrapped, packed, baked, sorted, tagged, signed, sealed and delivered. I need quiet. I need to focus!

My children, however, don’t care about any of that. Their to-do list is very different from mine: see their friends and their families. Decorate some trees. Sing some songs. Build some snowmen. Read some stories. Look at some lights. Eat some cookies, stay up late, play some games and open some presents. In other words, relax and thoroughly enjoy themselves.

I’m somewhat jealous of their childish enthusiasm; to be perfectly honest, their list sounds like a lot more fun than mine does. As a matter of fact, mine sounds downright boring and joyless.

Am I missing the proverbial forest for the Christmas trees here? Maybe the singing, squealing and glittering isn’t so bad after all. Maybe they have it right and I need to just lighten up!

It seems that the real key to enjoying the holidays comes down to just this one thing: perspective. We need to accept each other for who we are. Warts and all. Things that drive me crazy (like squealing from excitement or singing Holly Jolly, Holly Jolly over and over) might just be the very things that are missing in my own life.

No, the ones I love aren’t perfect.

But loving them, even with all of their faults, is somehow perfect.

It’s amazing how love can do that: it can transform just about anything. Your family (and mine) might not be straight out of “It’s a Wonderful Life.” “It’s a Mediocre Life” or “It’s a Dysfunctional Life” might be more appropriate.

But maybe I should go into it this year like my children: with hope and excitement. With a song in my heart. With glitter!

I’m going to be prepared to count to ten. I’m going to breathe deeply, listen to a relaxation CD and try to maintain a non-Grinchy attitude. I may even go outside and find that tom-tom and give it back to them! I’m going to try to forgive the annoyances and maybe, just maybe, let some things slide this year. Who knows? Maybe I’m the annoying one. Maybe my kids are letting things slide because they love me.

I can at least return the favor.



from my 12/4/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

First Broken Bone!

Poor Josie broke her collarbone "in the service of the Lord," so to speak. She was helping take up the Sunday School collection at church and she somehow tripped (as only her mother could teach her) and landed in exactly the right spot to fracture her left clavicle. It HURT. She cried and cried all through church, and she ended up staying out in the van with Lynn (the ER nurse) and Jesse checking on her throughout the service. When she came home, she was just miserable and she stayed on the couch all afternoon and evening. I finally made the call to take her to the hospital, knowing firsthand how something can be broken and a parent not know it! (Case in point, my daddy let me walk/hop around on a broken tibia for two days because it didn't swell up = not broken). Jesse took her and they xrayed her and yep, it was broken, all right. She nursed her poor arm/shoulder and took the pain like a pro - only a little bit of Tylenol and she was rearing to go again. She was NOT happy about having to wear her sling with all her fancy Christmas dresses, though. Who knew the Lord's work could be so dangerous? :)

Long Day

The days are long, but the years are short.

Sometimes I stop and look at my children and I can't believe that they are really mine. I can't believe that my little sweet babies, that I carried in my womb and in my arms, are so big and grown up. They are doing okay without me, wiping their own butts, getting their own snacks, taking their own showers, reading their own books.

It's bittersweet. I'm proud of them, of the young ladies they are becoming, and I know that I'll be sad when they don't need me anymore. It's funny, day in and day out I get SO TIRED of hearing, "MOMMY! I'm DONE!" and "Come look at this!" and "I need help with this!" and dozens of other things I hear over and over and over.

But one day I will long for it.

Tonight, I am exhausted after a long day of being mom.

One day I will wish for one more day filled with exhaustion-causing mundane tasks. I love them so much. I hope they know.

Coco

Last week on one of those unseasonably warm fall days, we went to the park. Somewhere between the swings, the slide, and the merry-go-round, Sadie found a woolly bear caterpillar crawling along in the mulch. She picked him (I mean her) up and let her crawl across her hand.

The woolly bear caterpillar, with its 13 distinct black and reddish segments, has somehow earned the reputation of being able to forecast what kind of weather we're going to have this winter. Sadie didn’t know this though. And she didn’t care.

Once she picked up that worm and held it in her hand, she immediately fell head over segments.

For the next two hours, during what was supposed to our nature walk, Sadie was completely preoccupied with this woolly worm. I would go so far as to say she became obsessed.

The few times she let the newly-named “Coco” out of her sight, she was like a nervous mother hen.

“Where is she? Where did she go? A BIRD WILL EAT HER! Watch her for me, Mom, would you?”

Then she decided on a middle name. Furbear. Coco Furbear Lansing.

Our scientific nature walk was completely overshadowed – the careful observation of this tiny creature took its place. Now that I think about it, I guess that lends itself a lot more to learning scientifically than just a run-of-the-mill nature walk.

“She has suction cup feet – she’s so fuzzy! Feel her! Hmm, but she has a creepy face, kind of like an alien.”

“What happens to these, Mom? Do you know? Do they turn into something?”

I honestly didn’t know. We decided to bring Coco home with us and do some research. This would be a great science project! We found out that she would turn into a Pyrrharctia isabella, the Isabella tiger moth, so we looked up pictures of tiger moths. It’s really amazing that these fuzzy little things turn into such delicate creatures.

Sadie decided that she wanted to keep Coco all winter and watch her build a cocoon. We found out that they eat fresh grass, so we filled a box with grass and poked air holes in the lid. Then we left Coco to her own devices, or so I thought.

I left the girls upstairs for quiet time and came downstairs.

When next I saw their room, it had been turned into a wooly worm obstacle course. There were paper towel rolls for crawling through. Strings had been strung as tightropes. There was a matchbox car for driving around, a My Little Pony Ferris wheel for recreational purposes.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Then next day, I was awakened by a little person standing next to my bed with a worm on her finger. She said, “Somebody got up early this morning! She was standing up in her box. She wanted to get out and play!”

Of course she did.

Adelaide scampered in behind her sister and yelled excitedly, “Yes! She WAS! Sadie already let me holded her 2 times!”

Later a friend of ours brought over a woolly bear playmate for Coco. Christened “Fudge,” he was put into the box and watched intently. Sadie hoped against hope for some mating activity to ensue so that there would be caterpillar eggs - and lots of little baby Cocos crawling around.

I just hope this caterpillar lasts till spring, or there is going to be one very sad worm funeral going on around here.

from my 11/27/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

The Thankful Tree

In honor of the upcoming season, I decided that my kids needed to do something to remind them to be thankful for what they have.

After all, children seem to be way too entitled these days, don’t they? Sometimes they just don’t seem to appreciate what they have.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine told me about a tradition she started at her house called a Thankful Tree. It sounded like a good idea to me, and I was determined that my girls would feel thankful this season. So, I went to work with some green and brown construction paper and set about “building” a big green tree with a brown trunk.

Next, the girls and I took their safety scissors and cut out little paper leaves from different fall colors – yellow, orange, and some white (since we couldn’t find any red.) Then we each took some leaves out of the “leaf pile” and began to write down the things we are thankful for.

I wrote on my own leaves and helped three-year-old Adelaide as my older girls, ages 6 and 7, focused on their leaves. Sadie’s tongue poked out the corner of her mouth in concentration (just like her dad when he uses scissors.) Josie gripped her pencil firmly in her left hand while she stared at her paper, pondering her blessings.

After we all finished our leaves, we took turns using double-sided tape to stick them up on our tree. Sadie and Adelaide finished and headed to the family room to resume their game of “inside walking tag.” Six-year-old Josie went over to the table to make a few more leaves. I stayed by the tree to read what everyone had written.

To my surprise, I noticed that the girls had been much more thoughtful than me. The leaves growing on our tree now boasted things of great magnitude, like “God, Grandpas, Grandmas, aunts, uncles, cousins, Jesus, Dad, Mom, brother, sisters....” There were also some that read “my bike, my Snoopy, my Dorothy doll, my dog.” Then there were others that you'd expect, like “my house, my room, my blanket, my favorite pillow."

Wait a minute... maybe my kids weren't ungrateful after all!

As a matter of fact, my leaves seemed a bit more trivial after I read theirs. In addition to my family and friends, I had written things that don't really matter that much in the great scheme of things. Things like my coffee maker, my car, electricity, my clothes.

A minute later (and feeling a bit humbled), I watched as Josie padded back over to the tree in her fuzzy pink slippers. She said, “Here, Mommy. I almost forgot something important.” She stuck three more leaves to the tree, them scampered off to join her sisters.

Tears filled my eyes as I read what was so important to my little girl.

Stuck haphazardly to the brown construction paper branches in scrawling, messy handwriting, were six simple words that changed my heart for this season of thanksgiving. Written in her childish pencil were the words:

"My hand.

My feet.

My eyes."

My heart full, I realized at that moment that I'm the one who was feeling entitled. I'm the one who was being ungrateful.

I realized that we all have so much more to be thankful for than we ever acknowledge – perhaps more than we even realize.

I went into this little activity trying to teach my kids something about thankfulness. Little did I know that they were going to be the ones teaching me.


from my 11/20/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Birthday Boy!

I can't believe that my sweet little Jeddy-boo is already one year old. Today was his birthday, and we celebrated by (what else?) going to El Rodeo. He (of course) wore the birthday sombrero... although he didn't want to. He also pointed with his little ET finger and got INCREDIBLY excited when they brought out a little fried ice cream with a lit candle on top. He knew EXACTLY what that thing was, since he had had a candle in his very FIRST cupcake at his party on Sunday. He freaked out and pointed and "oohed!" and squealed and half-cried until we gave him a bite of whipped cream. Too funny.

Like I said, we had his party on Sunday at Grandma and Grandpa's house (otherwise known as Lansing Party Central). Since they were going to be out of town this coming weekend, we ended up having a triple birthday party for Sarah, Ireson (turning 5!) and Jed's Big One. He was very sleepy from skipping his morning nap because of church, so we fed him lunch and then rushed everyone in to sing to him so he could smash his cake and them take a nap during the sugar crash. He was very interested in the cake (Sarah held it so he wouldn't burn his fingers on the candle) and seemed to be wondering why everyone was watching him all of a sudden. We all assumed he would attack the cake and smear it in his ears and nose and everywhere else (like Adelaide), but he picked it up in his two little hands and very neatly took little bites from it. It was SO CUTE and he was so careful with it. He even used his pointer finger to pick up the crumbs and put them into his mouth. I think he was afraid that he'd never get a chance like this again (to eat something this sugary) and so he didn't want to miss a single morsel.

It was so cute to see him surrounded by his three big sisters and his cousins; you could tell that they all love him so much!

Adelaide-ster's Dictionary

Adelaide is three, and she has her own ideas about pretty much everything. In addition to her own ideas, she also has a pretty interesting vocabulary, which she made up her own self (see definition below.)

My own self: used as an emphatic substitute for a possessive pronoun, as in: “I am not your girl. I am my own self’s girl.”

Bain-daid: an adhesive bandage that you apply to your finger when you get a boo-boo.

Macaroni: little round pieces of Italian meat, usually used as a pizza topping.

Cantaloupe: swift-running deer-like animal found in Africa, a favorite meal of lions. As in, “Sadie and Josie are pretending to be lions, and they’re chasing me because I’m a cantaloupe!”

Un-raser: the pink thing on the end of a pencil, used to rub out a mistake on paper.

Er: what you might say to indicate an alternative, as in: “Is that a kid er a grown-up?”

Red Lopsta: the restaurant where they sometimes let you pet the crustaceans before you eat them.

Quaker State and Loober-Hoober: the restaurant down the street from Red Lopsta.

Whiler: an increment of time between a "while" and an "hour" as in: “I did it a whiler ago.”

Jolly Rogers: a brand of little, rectangular hard candies that come in mouthwatering fruit flavors.

Regaly: not special, as in: "Is this my favorite kind of cheese or is it just regaly cheese?"

Cimmaninin: a commonly used spice. As in: "Does this applesauce have cimmaninin in it?

He's: a seldom used pronoun, as in: "I hit him on he's head."

Apparentwy of course dat did not: a phrase used when something happens that you did not want to happen. As in: "Apparentwy, when I put my finger in he's mouf, Jedidiah bit my finger. Of course dat did not hurt. But doze are teef marks."

Teef: bony white structures in your mouth used for chewing.

Bugs Wabbit: the star of Looney Toons cartoons. Famous for saying, "Eh, what's up, Duck?"

Chicken-fish: any kind of chicken er fish that has a batter coating, such as turkey.

I'ont keer: what you say when it something really doesn't matter to you, as in: "I'ont keer if it's naptime. I'ont wanna take a nap!"

Cheese booger: a type of sandwich, usually purchased at a fast food restaurant.

Old McDonald's: a fast food place where you can get cheese boogers.

Breftast: the most important meal of the day.

Salomey: a favorite lunch meat. Best when eaten rolled up, but not dipped in moosetard.

Moosetard: a paste made from the crushed seeds of certain plants, used as a condiment. Also known as yellow ketchup.

Isdroy: to tear something up or maim it: "I will isdroy you with this stick!"

Cive: a place where bees live. "There's lots of honey in that bee cive."

Feel free to use these Adelaide-isms whenever you’d like; I’m sure she won’t “keer.”

-From my 11/13/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Three additions:

Laver: a molten hot rock that can burn your feet. As in: "Careful! Jump from the couch to the chair or you will step in hot laver!"

Opposed: used to describe something that should or shouldn't be done. As in: "You are not opposed to tickle me!"

Crouton: a noun, much like (in fact, exactly like) an ottoman. Thought process: ottoman is like a futon, futon sounds like crouton. As in: "I'll hide it over there under the crouton."

Beezra: a black and white striped African animal that looks like a horse.

Thanks

Today, Josie and I had our annual Mommy/Josie day. We went (as usual) to the Christmas bazaars close to our church, and we had a fun time looking at all the crafts and ornaments, scarves and pastries that were for sale. We stopped and had a snack at one of the biggest craft shows, and there were tables set up. Josie sat on my lap and drank her hot chocolate, nibbling a piece of cheese pizza. As she looked around, she noticed an elderly man at a table across from us with a black hat on. She asked what the hat said. I told her "Proud to be a World War II Veteran." Since we had just talked about veterans on Friday (and called Papaw and Grampie to say thank you for serving) and learned some about WWII and the Nazis, Josie was very interested. She asked if he had helped to fight "those really really bad guys. The Nazis. The ones who wanted to kill everyone if they weren't white." I told her yes, that he had fought in that war and that he was probably a hero. She said, "Well, I guess we should go and thank him." I told her I thought that was a GREAT idea, and I was SO PROUD of her! We walked over to his table and she went right over and leaned in next to him and said, "I just wanted to say thank you for being a veterinarian." Oh man. It was the sweetest, and funniest, and greatest moment. I love my Josie-Bean!

Garage Sale Junkies

With the beginning of fall comes the end of one of our favorite times of year: garage sale season.

My girls and I are garage sale junkies, and we are not ashamed to admit it.

Since there are four children in our one-income family, our toy budget is very small. At garage sales, though, we can stretch it w-a-a-a-y out.

When Josie’s Big Wheel tricycle bit the dust in the spring, I researched new ones online. They were $80! We found a gently used one (pink and purple, no less) at a garage sale for $4.

We were hooked.

Sadie likens “garage-sale-ing” to a treasure hunt, because “you just never know what you’re going to find!” She and her two sisters gather up their change in their little sparkly purses and load up in the van, on the lookout for handmade signs and tell-tale balloons that mark the spot.

They instruct me to stay out of “town” because there are no “homes” there. Instead, I make a big circle down Lakeshore Avenue, across Center Street, and back up Bellflower Street. We find literally hundreds of garage sales in a 5-mile radius during the spring and summer.

They yell “there’s one, there’s one!” then scope it out to make sure there is some “kid stuff.” Sometimes, we just do what we call a drive-by, checking it out very slowly from the road. They have to take turns getting out of the car, so they want to make sure it’s a good one before they waste their turn on it.

Some of our favorite finds:

Brand new ice skates, just Josie’s size: $1

Gold sequined Michael Jackson hat (a perfect complement to Sadie’s gold purse): $1

2 willow brooms (excellent for playing Little House on the Prairie): $0.75

A free jewelry box for Sadie “because she’s cute.”

A bowlful of sea glass from Lake Erie for Sadie’s collection: $0.10

A leather storage ottoman just like the $250 one that Mommy’s been eyeing: $15

A huge boxful of Magnetix magnet toys: $5

Twin stuffed tigers for Josie: $1

Speaking of twin tigers, we have one problem with garage sales: Josie feels the need to bring home every (soon-to-be) homeless stuffed animal that she sees in the ever-present quarter box at any given sale. The case she usually pleads: “But Mo-ommm, I really need that. That (monkey, elephant, tiger, dog, cat, lizard, camel, mouse) needs a home! He looks so sad! I neeeeeed him! And even worse, he needs meeeee!” Since she already has a shelf full of adoptees, (and a heart bigger than her room) we really have to try and steer clear of the quarter box.

Also, all three of the girls love to patronize the lemonade stands that their peers set up. They are very supportive of the entrepreneurial spirit of anyone in their age bracket; they are willing to submit to the highway robbery that some of these kids charge for cookies and fruit punch. Apparently, snacks taste a lot better when you are buying them from someone your own age WITH your own money.

Books for a quarter, brand new clothes with tags still on them, costumes for the dress-up box, craft materials, coloring books, the thrill of the hunt…. You can see why we are sad to see the season go.

I guess that old saying still applies: one kid’s trash is another kid’s treasure.

So, start cleaning out your closets now – you’ll probably see us in the spring!

-From my 11/6/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Satisfaction

Sadie's current favorite word is "satisfied." For example, she says things like, "Jedidiah is very satisfied with that hole in the blanket! He likes to mess with it!" or "Roscoe is satisfied with that stick" or even "Adelaide is pretty satisfied with that picture I drew for her." She hardly ever talks about HERSELF being satisfied. Hmmm. Wonder what that means.

Quotationssss

Mommy to Sadie, after a morning of many annoyances: "Do you want to annoy the WHOLE WORLD?!" Then, realizing the enormity (and great exaggeration) of that question, we all broke into peals of laughter.

Adelaide, during schooltime: "I need the un-raser. Please excuse me, Porky."

Sadie, burning her tongue: "The tea! The tea is scolding me!"

Adelaide, needing help: "Mommy! Help me! I'm distracted!"

Favorite Facebook Updates from September and October

Adelaide just gave me some encouraging news: "I'm tired of being a bad girl. I guess I'll be a good girl now."

Oh my gosh... Josie just completely cracked me up while we were playing ball. She said, "I am not the goal. I am the government. If I get the ball, I am going to KEEP it."

Rabid raccoon in our backyard. Kids are strangely excited. Waiting for police.

Jedidiah is on a steady diet of leaves... He eats them off the floor faster than I can sweep them up. Mmm, crunchy.

Adelaide/AdeTUDE
"Would you like for me to turn this down? You would? Well, I'm not going to."

‎15 kids, 5 adults, 1 runaway dog, a double rainbow, one firepit, some kamikaze swinging and some hail = the end of the second annual family fun night! Phew.

‎1,2,3, set, go! - Adelaide

Jedidiah saw his first mariachi band tonight. Of course, Josie and Sadie requested "La Bamba," so he didn't hear an actual song. :)

Sunny Saturday
Snuggling my baby boy
Mommy's heart is full.

Sadie: Stop a-hoverin' over me! It's a-drivin' me crazy!

Adelaide: If I dweam about ice cweam, can we have it for bweakfast in the morning?

Poor Sadie just got conked on the head by a fire truck. She has a huge knot on her head... The child cannot dodge (literally) her mother's influence.

In between coughing fits, Adelaide serenaded me today with that old and beloved but seldom-heard spiritual: "Swing Low, Sweet Cheerio."

Josie: "Never look a dinosaur in the eye."

Adelaide reading to Jed out of her bible: "Once upon a time there was a little old lady whispering hush the naked bear will get thee. Amen."

Sadie, after a discussion about track and field events: "I bet I would be good at the high jump." Adelaide adds: "And I would be good at the low jump."

So Jed is crawling with just one leg, dragging the other one across the floor behind him. He's also drooling. Grandpa Roy (recently had a stroke) walks in, sees this, and says, "Kid, you look just like your grandpa." 9/14/11

All About the Candy

For months, my kids have been consumed by one all-important question.

For months they’ve planned. They’ve dreamed. They've schemed.

“What should I be for Halloween?”

From a child's point of view, it’s not a matter to be taken lightly. They have one night. One chance. They must develop a strategy that will get them what they want: the prize to end all prizes. The be all, end all.

Candy.

Not just any candy, mind you. A giant BAG of candy. All for them. No forced sharing mandates. A free pass from mom to eat however much they want of whatever they want.

Their reasoning?

It’s all mine! I worked for this! This was all my idea! My cuteness! My tricking, my treating!

Now, there was never any doubt as to what Adelaide would be for Halloween. For months, she has been practicing to be “Dorofee.” So, it was up to her older sisters Sadie and Josie to develop a complementary plan. Last year, they were Mary and Laura Ingalls and Suki the cow from the Little House books. They have not forgotten all the compliments, the smiles, the “how cutes!” and the extra candy that little costume trio earned for them.

I could see the little wheels in their brains turning as they tried to figure out a plan.

They don’t really care about The Wizard of Oz. They care about the candy.

“What will make us look the cutest?” they discussed. “What will get us noticed?” they wondered.

“What will get us… candy?”

Josie saw the light first. She made the decision. She will be The Cowardly Lion. She got Grandma to make her the cutest, furriest lion suit ever. She has walked around the house “in character” for the past two weeks. She has practiced her goofy laugh and her lines: “Who pulled my tail?” and “Unusual weather we’re having, ain’t it?”

One down.

Sadie saw the wisdom in Josie’s plan, but she flat out refused to be the Tin Man or a flying monkey. Not her – dress-wearing, ballet-dancing, fancy-pants that she is. No way, no how.

But suddenly, inspiration struck! My aunt offered her a poofy, bubblegum pink concoction of a prom dress that my cousin had worn for Halloween fifteen years ago. The iridescent pink lightbulb in Sadie’s head went off: she would be be the girliest, sparkliest witch this side of the rainbow! Glinda the Good Witch!

That made two.

Last but not least was the cute little unassuming baby brother. He really had no say in this. They unashamedly planned to use him for their own sheer greed and candy profit. There was discussion of making him into Toto, since he crawls around on the floor anyway. After some flashbacks of Suki the cow being yanked around at the end of a rope last year, I decided to veto this idea in favor of something that doesn't involve a dog leash: a baby scarecrow.

The Tin Man will be missing, but no one is exempt from their secret candy agenda. I overheard this little discussion yesterday: “let’s beg Daddy to put the funnel from the garage on his head!”

Yep, it’s all about the candy.

-from my October 30th article for www.mentorpatch.com

Mommy Moment

Yesterday I had one of those "Mom Moments" that you hear about. I never actually HAD one, that I can remember off the top of my head, but yesterday, I did. Sadie and I were doing her writing in her notebook (as usual, she did a little bit of actual writing, and I did a lot of dictation-taking for her). We were talking about World War II, since we had recently finished Grandfather's Journey for our FIAR time. They've also been watching The Sound of Music in short increments and we've been talking a little bit about the Nazis, Hitler, and terrible things like the holocaust (in age appropriate terms, of course). Anyway, as she dictated to me, her eyes grew wide and she said how it's so bad to try to get rid of one group of people just because you don't like them... or because you think they are "less of a person than you are." She drew her own parallels (I love this about my child!) to a group of people who are being killed today because of their "personhood" status being in question. She said, "It's like the little tiny babies who aren't born yet! Just because they are small doesn't mean that they aren't people too!" I was floored and started crying, since this topic is so near and dear to my heart. She asked me why I was crying and I told her the truth... I am just so proud of her, and I KNOW that she has such strength within her - and the POWER inside her to do the right thing, and to tell other people what the right thing is! I am excited about the person she is becoming.

Stick in the Mud

What is it about mud that magnetically attracts children?

We have a low-lying area in our backyard that almost always has standing water in it. This natural mud hole somehow puts out a siren call to anyone under four feet tall, and I have to physically restrain my kids from going back there and sinking in mud up to their knees.

How do they find it? Even if my backyard wasn’t reminiscent of the La Brea Tar Pits, it wouldn’t matter. They would search out the inevitable scooped out area at the bottom of the slide on the playground or the mulch-free spot that is always under the swings.

Their shoes would still be caked in it, their socks still dried and prickly.

Keep in mind that these are my girls. I can’t help but wonder what is going to happen to the mud situation at my house when baby Jedidiah gets old enough to join in the fun.

A friend of mine recently told me that her little boy used to take a handful and chomp into it like it was an apple. Great.

Last week (and this was before the two-week long mud-creating monsoon hit) we all went over to a friend’s house. I visited with the mom inside while all the kids went out to play in the fenced-in yard. We could hear squeals of glee, peals of laughter, the occasional good natured shriek. Then, we heard something a bit more sinister: plop! Plop-plop. PLOP!

I saw Sadie through the window, holding a giant mud ball – we’re talking bowling-ball size here – in her hand. She whirled around like she was preparing to heave a discus at the Olympics. Instead, PLOP! She threw it right against the nice white fence. Her audience cheered.

She bent to pick up another (pre-formed) ready-made ball. I tapped on the window, but to no avail. She spun and struck again. They all roared.

So did I, but in a different way.

I mean, after all, it wasn’t OUR fence.

With mud splattered all over their pants and stuck to the insides of their shoes, I shoved all their belongings into a plastic grocery bag (kept under the seat in the car for just such an occasion) and we went home.

Sadie (sort of) explained what had happened. “But Mommy, we just love mud. I don’t know why. Well, yes I do. Mud just feels so squishy and good! We were going to wash it off with the hose!”

“Yeah,” chimed in Josie. “And we like building dams out of mud, too. Because as you know, beavers are pretty much the coolest thing ever. And, Mom, it is also good for patching things because when you put mud on some tree bark and stick in on a place that has a hole in it, mud is like glue.”

And of course, Adelaide had to give me her three-year-old opinion. “Well, Mommy, I like to stick mud in holes and play around with it AND throw it at the fence.”

None of these were a good defense, in my opinion.

I seriously hope that this rain is over soon. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but sticks and mud are driving me bonkers.


-from my 10/23/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Day in the Life

Today was basically a good day. Jedidiah woke up first (as usual) and proceeded to smack the bluebird music box on the side of his crib - BANG BANG! Bang BANG! over and over until I came in to get him. Then he looked up at me with his gorgeous little moon-shaped face, pulled on the crib rails and stood up, all wobbly in his fuzzy yellow gown (Jesse gets mad when I call it a gown, but it is what it is) and reached for me. I love quiet mornings with him when I first get him up, change him (as wiggly as he is, I can usually buy some butt-wiping time by handing him the little cat figurine from the shelf above the changing table), and sit down with him in the rocking chair. He's VERY impatient in the mornings, though, and he starts his "Eh! Eh eh!" grunting cries pretty quick if I'm not fast enough. I love the way he nuzzles his little fuzzy haired head down between my neck and my shoulder... we snuggle under his fuzzy blue and yellow ducky blanket and nurse and rock and usually I sing him a song or two and tell him how cute he is and how much I love him. Then Adelaide staggers in, all bedheaded and big smiles. She flops down on the ottoman by my feet and scrunches under the blanket too and says, "Is bweakfast weady? I peed in this pull-up but not not not in my pants. And not on my shirt eider." She goes off to throw her pull-up in the trash and her pants in the laundry room. She comes back, half of a nudie-butt, and gets back under the covers after she picks out her panties (blue with yellow flowers) for the day. We read Panda Bear Panda Bear What do you See?. I get up, leaving her and Jed to play on the floor. I put in laundry. I take out laundry. I straighten the schoolroom, help make up Adelaide's bed. I pick up tiny things off the floor that Jed would (definitely) try to put in his mouth. I open the shades. I put toothpaste on toothbrushes. I make breakfast (very berry oatmeal and their southern, if not healthy, favorite: Spam!. They gobble it up, once Sadie and Josie have traipsed down the stairs. Sadie is dressed in her favorite outfit - the long sleeved black shirt with the pink ribbon stitched on the collar and her burgandy velvety pants. She checks the calendar to see what's going on today, then remembers we're going to the museum - AND that we need to make Grammie's birthday cake in two days. Josie sleeps in a litte (as usual) but comes down rubbing her eyes with her blankie, new gap in her bottom row of teeth, and a cute sunshiny Josie-bean smile. She kisses Jed good morning and sits down in her spot on the bench at the table. Adelaide sings "God our father, we thank you for our blessings! Ahhhmen!" We read from "Growing up When Jesus Did" and Sadie makes lots of observations. Not one to eat breakfast, Josie picks at her food. Adelaide says, "This is the best oatmeal I ever had!" and finishes off Josie's. We get teeth brushed, some responsibilites checked off our new magnetic responsibility chart, and get shoes on. We wait for Melissa, Donna, and Caroline to get here and then we caravan to the museum. Adelaide really wants to go in the star tunnel, so we go there first thing. Then we meander around, checking out the different galleries, eating lunch in the Blue Planet (Sadie really wants a baked potato, but I didn't want to open that can of worms and buy anything in there - it's so overpriced - so they all had to eat what I packed. Adelaide and Caroline had a great time playing together while Sadie and Josie went into their Weather class. Josie wanted me to come in and sit with her, but since I had her little brother and sister, they would've been a HUGE distraction to the class. She was fine in there with Sadie and James and Teagan, but I kind of wanted to go and sit with her. I'm glad she still even wants me around. I know that one day soon she probably won't want me to hang out with her. Sigh. I'm having some mixed emotions today. Probably because my LAST baby has filled out an 18 MONTH PJ SET. Anyway, we had fun at the museum. On the way home, the little ones fell asleep and Sadie and Josie listened to The Magic Treehouse on CD. We got home right at the climax of the story and then Sadie spent the next half hour trying to find a stinking CD player in our house that would actually work so she could find out what happened. Josie didn't care much - she just wanted to play with her "Pollies," as she calls her little teeny doll stuff. Adelaide and Jed took naps (sort of) and I relaxed for my allotted 30 minutes out of 24 hours. Then up for the store with Josie, then dinner (baked potatoes - Sadie's choice) baths, and stories - Sadie read Panda Bear Panda Bear, What do you See?, so all in all, the day came full circle. I just put in another load of laundry, and it's after 11... so my day must be done too.

What Really Matters?

Some things just don’t matter as much now as they used to.

Do ladies need to wear hats and gloves when they go shopping these days? No. It doesn’t matter. Do gentlemen need to wear a coat and tie to go out to the movies? No. It doesn’t matter. Are we frowned upon when we don’t bake our own bread, or grow our own vegetables, or change our own tires? NO.

That’s right. According to Bill Murray, “It just doesn't matter!”

Life has changed in many ways since I became a mom. Do I still get dressed up and put makeup on every day? No. It doesn’t matter to my kids if I do. Do I still go out and buy fancy shoes with every paycheck I earn? No, (unfortunately) I now wear comfortable “mom shoes.” Shoes don’t matter anymore either.

Staying up late, eating out, overnight trips, specialty coffees – these things have taken a demotion on the totem pole of importance in my life since my children came along.

Here is my assessment of some of the things that don’t matter nearly as much – and the things that do – now that I have children:

Crumbs on my clean floor don’t matter. Crumbs mean that I have kids that don’t have to go to bed hungry.

Fingerprints and smudges on the walls don’t matter. They mean that I have toddlers who are healthy and able to play (though I would prefer that they learn to use a paper towel.)

Not having enough free time to surf the Internet doesn’t matter. It means that I have an extra five minutes for lullaby-singing. Who needs to know who has the worse beach body this year, anyway?

Piles of unfolded laundry don’t matter. They mean that I have a houseful of people that I love. Messy people, yes, but I love them!

A house cluttered with toys, books and fishing gear doesn’t matter. It means that my family is comfortable here and they can do all the things they love at home.

Missing the beginning of my favorite TV show doesn’t matter. It means that I have time to read two extra bedtime stories to someone who is growing up too fast.

A puddle of spilled grape juice on the kitchen counter doesn’t matter. A sticky kiss from little grape-juice-flavored lips does.

Toys left out in the yard and in the driveway don’t matter. The fact that I have room for my kids to run around outside – and to breathe fresh air – that’s what matters.

Muddy shoe prints on the floor don’t really matter. They mean that my children are exploring and learning to love nature. Besides, I like to mop. Really.

Water all over the bathroom walls doesn’t matter. What matters is having fun in the tub with bubbles and your favorite squeaky duck!

In the great scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter that my girls are not asleep when they are supposed to be. What matters is that they are safe and sound, giggling and telling stories to each other in their room.

Wearing the latest name-brand styles does not matter. What matters is learning that what’s on the inside is what counts.

Being able to afford the newest technological toys and gadgets doesn’t matter. Learning to be content with what you have does.

Whether or not my three-year-old eats all her green peas does not matter. Sharing meals together as a family does (and I don’t like green peas either, so there.)

Being able to sleep in on Saturday morning doesn’t matter. Spending the night rocking my baby to sleep does.

Laughter matters. Patience matters. Sacrifice matters.

Love matters.

Bill Murray was right. Lots of things just don’t matter at all.

But some things still do.

-from my 10/16/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Chips and Dips

Sadie and Josie are fighting over a bag of chips (a rare commodity in this house, since I hardly EVER buy them). Sadie already had a bunch; Josie has the bag now and Sadie wants more. Josie refuses. Sadie, drama in full effect, says, "Nothing, but NOTHING, will she give me!"

Josie says, "Well, you didn't share with me either."
Sadie: "Next time, I'll get Adelaide something and NOT YOU!"
Josie: "You know what the Bible says!"
Sadie: "So do you!"
Josie: "Well, just because someone does something to you...."
Sadie: "Shush! Just Shush!"

What Season are You?

The first flutter of gold and brown leaves swirled down around us with a breath of chilly air.

Josie turned her face toward the sun, squinting her blue eyes up at the trees. She ran out into the squishy grass with arms outstretched. She twirled around and tried to catch the first crunchy leaves as they somersaulted through the air.

“It’s fall!” she yelled. “Summer is over and it’s finally fall!”

I guess I was in a contemplative mood, because her 6-year old exuberance paired up with the falling leaves led me to wonder:

What season am I in?

Every mom’s life is a whirlwind of seasons. They change from one to the next with barely any warning at all. Somehow we all manage to weather the seasons, whether they are gentle and warm or hard and unforgiving.

My children are in the springtime of their youth. I’m always there to help them, to take care of them, to watch them grow, to help them dig in their roots. Their lives are new, exciting, and full of energy. Sometimes we forget that we moms have had a former life, too. We spent time in the childhood season of friends, silliness, playing and carefree lazy afternoons.

I guess right now, I’m in the summer of my life. I’ve made it through the difficult years of growing up and “finding myself.” I’m comfortable with who I am and how I’ve chosen to live. I’ve learned to be happy with being a wife, being pregnant, being a new mom, being a mom of toddlers and pre-schoolers and 7-year olds.

Sometimes I find myself twisting, reeling in the summer storms of life, grasping for something to hold on to. But in my own way, I’m flourishing, tending the garden I’ve planted – my marriage, my children.

But the season of fall, the season Josie is so happy to twirl into, is when you reap the real harvest, right? I think of my own mom, who is like my best friend now that I'm an adult.

Not only do we have a good relationship, but she also completely adores her grandchildren. She plays all kinds of crazy games with them, lets them make terrible messes, tells them endless stories, listens to all their corny jokes, lets them eat whatever they want, buys them whatever they ask for – all because she loves them so much she can hardly bear it. I can’t help but think that they are part of the bountiful harvest she planted when she sowed her own garden back when I was small.

My wonderful, wise grandmother has moved into the years of winter’s rest – quiet, deep, sheltered. She spends her days reminiscing about the days of her youth, sharing the insights of her child-rearing days, telling me about her own harvest of grandchildren, and now, her great-grandchildren. Winter is a time to reflect and to remember.

My fellow moms, before we know it, this summer season of our lives will be over.

We all want our kids to grow up slowly, but maybe by the time they do we’ll be like Josie. Maybe we won't be sad. Maybe our children will end up being our best friends. Maybe our grandchildren will be the best thing that ever happened to us. Maybe we’ll say “Hooray! Summer is over and it’s finally fall!”

Let’s all tend our summer gardens well, so we can truly enjoy what we reap in the harvest.


-from my article for www.mentorpatch.com on 10/9/11

Adelaide/AdeTUDE

"Would you like for me to turn this down? You would? Well, I'm not going to."

Definitely

Last night, Sadie was playing with her Twinkle Twinkle Little Star crank music box. I was standing with her, humming along. At the end, she "tooted" REALLY loud. Then she looked at me, laughed, and said, "There's a couple of new notes for you." I laughed and came to tell Jesse that Sadie was definitely his daughter. As I was telling him, Josie came in behind me, tripped, and fell flat in the floor. Jesse said, without missing a beat, "And that one is definitely yours."

Liar, Liar

Kids lie.

Most parents would agree with that fact. They don’t really learn it from anyone; it just seems to come naturally.

They exaggerate, they hide facts, they make up wild stories and they deny the (blatantly) obvious. Though most of them are really bad at it, they still do it.

I’m trying to teach my three girls the difference between what’s true and what isn’t, but a great deal of the time, they walk around with their proverbial pants on fire.

I remember a few years ago when Josie was probably only two. She swiped Sadie's Snoopy while we were in the car and then dropped him down next to the car-seat where Sadie couldn't get him.

Sadie accused her: "Hey! You took my Snoop, JO-SAY!" Josie grinned, rolled her eyes, and said, "Nope!" "Oh yes you did! You took my Snoop!" "Noooope!"

It was my child’s very first lie, and I witnessed it firsthand! Unfortunately, it was cute. Lies get less and less cute the older a child gets, though, so I’ve collected a few of my favorites before they get too ugly.

Lies of omission:

I heard a big crash from upstairs. Sadie stomped into the kitchen, grabbed a roll of paper towels, and turned to go back upstairs. She said, “Never mind what just happened.”

Quick-change of heart:

Josie, did you clean your room? “Yes, I already did it. Okay, no I didn’t.”

Adelaide, did you eat your carrots yet? “I ate one! One of those. Oh, wait. No, I didn’t eat it yet!”

Adelaide snuck into my bedroom after her dad had already tucked her in for the night. “Does Daddy know you’re in here?” “Yes.” “Do I need to tell him?” “NO!”

And, most common in our family, the lie when one sister accuses the other:

There is neon green Play-doh on the living room rug. I know SOMEBODY did it. I don’t waste my time asking my husband if he did it. I mean, when is the last time I saw him rolling out Play-doh cookies anywhere, much less on the beige living room carpet? The baby isn’t exactly ready for Play-doh yet. No, I’m positive the guilty party is standing in front of me; the only thing I have to do is figure out which one she is. “She did it, Mom.” “It wasn’t me, Mommy! I promise it wasn’t!” “If I did it, I don’t remember it at ALL.”

While planning my next move in response to the little accusatory fingers pointing at each other, something strange happens. Miss Guilty confesses. Why, I do not know. It’s not like I would have ever been able to figure out the truth after all the “she said/she said” stuff.

They don’t do any better with denial:

“Who took my York peppermint patty?” I asked Adelaide, whose face was smeared with chocolate. “I didn’t mess with your mint, Mommy! I didn’t!” she managed to splutter around a mouth full of minty goodness. It was hard not to laugh.

"I don’t think she was trying to hit you with the stick, Sadie." Her sister interrupts, "Oh yes I WAS trying to hit her with the stick! I tried to hit her in the arm but I missed and hit her in the leg instead!”

Sometimes I think we might be making some progress, like when Josie slunk into my bedroom, with her lower lip jutted out and her hands on her hips.

She looked me right in the eye and said, "Mommy. I cannot tell a lie. I snooped and I found two of my birthday presents and I saw them and I know what they are but I had to tell you the truth. You can keep them and give them to me next year if you want to because I will probably forget what they are by then anyway.”

My kids have a lot to learn before they finish law school.

For now, I’m just glad that they don’t quite get it. Lying well is one skill that I hope it takes them a long time to learn (or maybe never learn at all.)


from my 10/2/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Blah

Well, all three of the girls said something hilariously cute today, and I, thinking that I could remember it (it must've been REALLLLLY cute) did not write it down. Hence, this worthless post.

One Liners

Josie in the bathtub with her new snorkel set: "Oh, man. My gargles are fogging up."

Sadie, after serenading me with Bringing in the Sheaves: "Hey! Howdaya like that? I sounded like an opera singer!"

Adelaide sang this song in the car: "Oh, you are a bad mom... you are a bad, bad mom, la la la, you are a bad one oh yes." Me: "Are you talking to me? That's not very nice." Adelaide: "No, not you. I'm talking to a different bad mom."

Sadie: I am just never appreciated!

Josie, when she was covered with HIVES because of Off Skintastic bug spray: "Oh, Mommy. I just hate the way I look!"

Adelaide, after family game night: "We played Crazy Eggs (Crazy 8s) and Goggle (Boggle)!

After sneezing on her brother, Adelaide said, "Ooops. I bless you'd on he's head."

After tooting on my leg at the doctor's office and laughing, I said, "What do you say? (meaning excuse me)" She answered, "Um... I tooted on your leg?"

And, Adelaide's four stories in one, read to her baby brother from her little white bible: "Once upon a time there was on old lady who was whispering hush the naked bear will get thee. Amen."

More lies!

Adelaide, when I came in to find Jed crying and on the floor: "I did not sit on Jed's back and he's head! I didn't!"

Adelaide to her dad, after walking around spraying PetHead orange dog cologne all over the house that he had to clean off: "I did not spray that, Daddy. Oh, you don't need to wipe this one. Or that one. Or that table. Or that chair."

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. :)