Lans-A-Lot

Umm...

2012-02-10T12:44:00.000-05:00

For the past month, we have been learning about Egypt and reading Cleopatra VII. Throughout the book, the word "vineyard" has come up over and over. Josie has a mental block on this word and every time she hears it, she says, "What's a vineyard?" I finally made her say it over and over and over and I asked her and asked her for DAYs afterward to make sure she knew it. The next day, there it was in yet another passage. I said, "Josie, what's a vineyard?" She looked at me and said, "Um... well,um..." I said, "EVERY DAY I ask you what a vineyard is!" She said, "Well, why don't you just ask somebody else, then?"

Sadie had a hard day the other day. It was difficult to get her to sit down and concentrate, and she had a fight with her sister (she stepped on Josie's EYE, don't ask me how that happened) and so at bedtime, she was all weepy. I was talking to her and trying to help her feel better when Miss Drama said, "There is only ONE thing that would make me feel better, and that is to sleep downstairs with YOU and I know that THAT is simply IMPOSSIBLE!" Huff, flop onto her pillow... crying. I gave up. :)

Today, I let Adelaide watch Sesame Street while S and J did their math. She came running up to me afterward, singing a LOUD song about the Bert and Ernie segment on the show, which she informed me in no uncertain terms, was called NOT Bert and Ernie's Great Adventures, but BERNIE's Great Adventures.

Jed's first steps

2012-02-02T20:47:00.002-05:00

Today, Jedidiah and I were playing with his Noah's Ark rubber ball on the rug in the kitchen floor. He was rolling the ball and sometimes kicking at it with his foot. Then he stood up and scootched his little toes around so he was facing me. And THEN, he came toward me, arms held out, and he STEPPED toward me! Two whole steps! Then he threw himself at me, his arms around my neck, and I scooped him up and he laughed. It was a beautiful moment. I love that little boy SO MUCH that I can't stant stand it. I can't believe he's already walking... my baby.

Funny girl

2012-01-30T23:23:00.002-05:00

On the way to the doctor with Adelaide, I said, "Please do not toot on the doctor this time." Adelaide: "Or he will not give me a sucker?" Me: "Would you give someone who tooted on you a sucker?" Adelaide: "Yes, if they were behind me."

Overheard during bathtime: Adelaide: "Are you scared of ovarians?" Josie: "Ovarians? You mean barbarians?" Adelaide: "Yes, barbarians. Are you scared of barbarians?" Josie: "No, not really."

Stairs and Consequences

2012-01-25T17:28:00.001-05:00

"Hey, my little children..." said Mom.
"Hey, our big mama!" said Sadie.

Since I have decided to become a hardcore, somewhat mean mother, I have completely revamped my parenting philosophy. No more counting to three. No more asking the same question four times. Ask it, expect it, get a response (either "yes Mom," "yes Ma'am," or "Okay, Mom" and GIVE A CONSEQUENCE if it doesn't happen.

I think it's working for us. Yesterday I overheard Sadie telling her friend Bella that "We cannot do that. No way, we already had three consequences this week and we do NOT want another one!"

In other news, Jedidiah fell down the stairs (four or five of them) last night and bumped his little head. One of the girls forgot to put the gate back up. I hate that stupid tension gate. We need another swing/hinged gate (ours got thrown out after the flood) but they cost $60. Of course, what's $60 compared to Jed falling down the stairs....? I need to find some money.

Also, he makes the funniest, cutest little sounds! "GoogieGoogieGoogie" and "GogiGogiGogiGogi," "tick-a-tick-ULLL-tickaticka!" and some other little squeakly sounds that I can't even explain. His vocalizations are amazing... maybe he'll go to work for the UN someday. Or the circus.

Job Description

2012-01-22T21:56:00.000-05:00

TITLE: Mommy (also Mom, Mama and “But, MO-OOM!”)

JOB DESCRIPTION:

Team player needed for a challenging position in a chaotic working environment.

Duration of the position: forever. Successful candidate will maximize learning potential of all subordinates and supply general coziness to the workspace. Candidate will possess excellent communication skills and must be able to “count to 3.”

Must be willing to work ridiculous hours and be on call 24/7. Overnight travel is also required and will include trips to small guest rooms of varying relatives, gross port-a-potties and desolate muddy campsites.

The successful candidate will provide transportation and entertainment along with medical, technical and emotional support to all subordinates and is responsible for repeated follow-up.

There will be a strong focus on equipment and supplies needed to run a Food Service operation. This job requires management skills and a tremendous need for patience. Responsibilities also include laundry, maintenance and janitorial work (including disposal of poop and throw-up.)

Candidate must possess catlike reflexes in case someone falls off the bathroom counter. Candidate must also have the strength of a pack mule and be able to carry a baby, two bags of groceries, a purse and a diaper bag all in one hand.

TYPICAL DUTIES and RESPONSIBILITIES:

This description is not intended to be an exhaustive (and exhausting) list of all that may be required.

SOCIAL:

1. Outgoing calls to doctors, dentists, tutors, playmates, cousins and grandparents

2. Initiating, following up and/or attending (when required) appointments, recitals, birthday parties, “shows,” fishing trips, teacher conferences, family reunions, field trips, playdates, vacations, summer camps, sleepovers, swimming lessons, dance lessons, music lessons and Sunday School

3. Candidate must be willing to be hated occasionally

ADMINISTRATIVE:

4. Efficient data entry including school and medical records, baby book and scrapbook entries, letters to pen-pals, Santa and the Tooth Fairy

5. Preparing estimates (for groceries, Christmas lists, orthodontist bills and birthday presents)

6. Internet research: educational toys, safety recalls, G-rated movies, craft ideas, free family events and the closest garage sales. Also needs ability to navigate PBSkids.org

OTHER DESIRED ASSETS:

7. Awareness of organic foods, phosphate-free dishwasher liquid, all-natural shampoos and Xylitol tooth gel

8. Familiarity with Fair Trade principles (e.g., “I will give my little sister a cracker if she’ll give me all of her Halloween candy” = NOT a Fair Trade)

9. The candidate must be willing to alternate between being loved desperately one minute and deemed an embarrassment the next

PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE:

No previous experience is required, but on-the-job training is offered on a continual basis, whether the candidate wants it or not.

KNOWLEDGE and SKILLS REQUIRED:

1. Excellent interpersonal communication skills, especially at eye level and while in public at the grocery store or while singing lullabies

2. Strong problem solving skills and sound judgment (may be compromised because of job-related sleep-deprivation)

3. Strong attention to detail (e.g., “Does everyone have on underwear?”)

4. Excellent multi-tasking and organizational skills with the ability to set priorities and meet deadlines (e.g., feed the baby, make breakfast, make beds, wipe juice off the floor, get everyone dressed, put lunch in the crockpot, find 4 coats and 8 mittens, tie 6 shoes, let the dog out and change a load of laundry all before leaving for an 8am doctor appointment)

5. Ability to work with a team (e.g., handing out brooms and dust-rags before cranking up Annie’s “It’s the Hard-Knock Life”) for cleaning day

BENEFITS:

No salary. No insurance. No pension. No paid overtime. No paid holidays. No time off.

No opportunities for advancement. Candidate will be expected to fill the same position forever without resigning. Candidate assumes complete accountability for the quality of the end product and is responsible for maintaining a thorough file of “Mommy-guilt” throughout all eternity.

Unlimited smiles, hugs, snuggles and kisses for life. Successful candidate has immediate tenure and can never be replaced.

from my 1/22/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Anysling

2012-01-16T14:55:00.003-05:00

I've been thinking recently about all of the cute stuff that Josie used to say when she was Adelaide's age. She's almost to the point where she doesn't say those hilarious things anymore, and it makes me sad! Some of my favorites were her "crunchy" blanket. No one knows why she called it her crunchy one, but it was pink and fuzzy and had a little red princess in one corner. She STILL cries about losing it, and she still calls "him" her "Crunch" or her "Crunchy."

Anysling. Like, "I don't want to do ANYSLING!" or "I did NOT do ANYSLING to her!"

And my very favorite, Jesus' earthly parents, Mary and Jophus.

Gotta love that kid.

My little sunshines

2012-01-16T14:48:00.003-05:00

Mom: "Good morning, my little sunshines."
Josie: "I am not sunshine. I am moonshine."

While playing "2 Truths and a Lie" at dinner, after everyone had a turn, Adelaide said, "And now, now I will do Grammie's. Today, today, Grammie stuck her fingers in her nose. And today, Grammie said, 'horsh horsh horsh all the way home.' And today, Grammie went poop on the TOILET."

Mom: "On top of spa-GHETTI, all covered with CHEESE, I lost my poor MEATball..."
Josie: "Don't sing that song. It makes me sad."

Adelaide, handing me her fortune cookie: "Here, Mom. Can you get the directions out?"

Mom: "Well, if you must."
Josie: "I must."

Boys will be... troublemakers

2012-01-15T21:52:00.000-05:00

Before Jedidiah was born 13 months ago, I used to see little boys running around at the speed of light, climbing furniture like chimpanzees and banging on things for no reason.

I used to see them fighting, yelling and jumping and I would roll my eyes when their moms would inform me, “Oh, he’s just being a boy. Boys will be boys, you know.”

“Yeah, right!” I would think to myself. “If I ever have a boy, he will never act like that! I never even had to baby-proof the house with any of my girls!”

Alas, the irony of my own predictions has struck yet again.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my baby boy. He means the world to me! But here is a sampling of what he’s doing to drive me nuts (so far):

He wakes up before anyone else and proceeds to smack the bluebird music box on the side of his crib with the palm of his hand - BANG! Bang BANG! Bang! - over and over until I come in to get him. He grins up at me with his little moon-shaped face and big blue eyes, all cute and unassuming.

He is thrilled to have a new day! He is thrilled to be alive! He pulls on the crib rails and stands up on wobbly legs to reach for me. Only then do I see that he has somehow yanked off his pants, his socks and lost his diaper. He is thrilled to be naked!

I love mornings with him before everyone else is awake. Even though he's wiggly, I can usually buy some butt-wiping time by handing him the little cat figurine from the shelf above the changing table (if his hands are free, he feels compelled to stick them in poop.)

When we snuggle together in the rocking chair, I love the way he nuzzles his little fuzzy head down between my neck and my shoulder...we cuddle under his cozy blue and yellow ducky blanket and nurse and rock and usually I sing him a song or two. He smiles and coos at me then reaches up to poke one finger in my eye and the other up my nose.

And this is the calm before the storm.

He's VERY impatient for his breakfast, so as soon as he is done, he slides down my legs into the floor and he is gone. If I happen to look away for two seconds, then I’ll be all over the house looking for him, calling out “Jed! Jeddy!” as if he's going to say, “Hey Mom! In here!”

Over the next several hours (until the arrival of glorious naptime), I may find him enjoying one of his favorite pastimes:

Making Cheerio soup by mixing his cereal with the water in his sippy cup

Sneaking dog food out of the bowl and cramming it into his mouth

Crawling up the stairs, full-steam ahead, laughing and looking back over his shoulder

Sticking his hand in the toilet and swirling it all around

Throwing food all over the floor and rubbing the leftovers into his hair

Opening cabinets to pull everything out and dump it on the floor

Hammering any object he can find with his little wooden hammer (including glass doors)

Opening the kitchen trash can so he can rummage around in it then get his fingers stuck when the lid closes

Pulling books, CDs, movies and anything else on a shelf off the shelf

Turning on the bathtub faucet so he can splash water everywhere

Tearing up his sisters’ artwork, craft projects, dollhouse, Polly Pockets, ponies, dress-up clothes – you name it

Climbing up on the bathtub, the bed, the chairs, the play kitchen counter – anywhere he can gain a foothold

Getting stuck under the table, the kitchen chairs, the desk, the coffee table – anywhere he will fit

I know that these are not terrible things; sometimes they may even be deemed cute things. They are not, however, things that I’ve ever had to deal with before. It’s exhausting!

I guess it’s a good thing he’s my youngest, though; if I’d had him first, I would’ve probably been way too tired to have any other kids.

Much to my dismay (and former disbelief), apparently boys WILL be boys.

--from my 1/15/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

I Resolve...

2012-01-08T10:47:00.000-05:00

Ahh. A new year. A fresh start. A re-do.

Yep, it’s the one time of the year we can all take a “Life Mulligan.”

Honestly, I am not always the mom, wife, daughter, friend or teacher that I want to be. I’m thankful for do-overs.

I know that I’ll never be perfect, but I do love a fresh start.

Here at our house, the tree has been taken down, the gifts de-boxed, the lights wound up and stored away. The halls have been un-decked. We vacuumed up a million pine needles (along with three pieces of Frankenberry cereal from Halloween that were under Adelaide’s bed.)

Out with the old and in with the new, right?

I’ve always heard that goal setting works, so this year I’m going to try it for myself. I’m making it public so I can be held accountable. Here are some of my goals for 2012:

Read lots of good books. I’ve been spending way too much time playing Words with Friends and Bejeweled Blitz. I’m squandering my reading time. However, I have learned all three of the three-letter words that begin with “q.”

Be better at time management. It seems like I waste a lot of time on things that don’t really matter. Things like walking back and forth through the house, forgetting what I came into a room for and wandering back out again. Things like watching “Say Yes to the Dress,” worrying over things that are out of my control, folding pajamas, checking email and playing Words with Friends. I need to use my time wisely.

Be more optimistic. I am a born pessimist. I catch myself sounding like Eeyore the donkey from Winnie-the-Pooh a lot. "It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily. "And freezing. However, we haven't had an earthquake lately." This sounds exactly like me! Being a pessimist is not something I enjoy. I want to be one of those bright, happy, sunny people! How do you change your disposition? I’m not sure, but I want to try.

Be healthier. I want to eat better, cook smarter, exercise more and generally take better care of myself than I have in the past. Hindsight is 20/20, and I don’t want to still be trying to lose these same old extra thirty pounds next year!

Get up earlier. This is a problem for me. I need to get up at 7am every day. I know I would get so much more done if I got started early (before the kids “get started!”) Unfortunately, as my favorite cartoon character, Brak the Spacecat, says, “Oh, man, I love sleepin’! Wish I could wake up so I could go back to sleep again!” This would also entail going to bed earlier – also a problem, thanks to my night-owl husband (and Words with Friends.)

Trust my instincts more. I tend to second-guess myself (pessimistically) and worry over what other moms (especially homeschoolers) are doing, if my kids are learning enough, if I’m teaching them well enough...you know, if I’m screwing them up or not. Instead, I want to believe in my God-given ability to parent and teach my children what they need to know.

Micromanage less. I have some real issues with micromanaging my kids (especially my oldest.) This year, I want to let go and let them make their own mistakes…and probably find that they won’t make as many mistakes as I thought they would.

Relax more with my kids and my husband. I need to focus more on instigating date nights, planning “Special Mommy Time” with each of my children and having Family Fun Nights when we’re all together… times that really matter.

Work on a family project. I don’t really know what this should be yet, but I do know that I want us to do something worthwhile together. Something that helps someone. Something that makes a difference.

What are your goals for 2012? I’d love to know your tips and tricks for reaching them (especially if you’re planning on turning yourself into an optimist this year…I need all the help I can get!)

from my 1/8/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Dads do the Driving

2012-01-01T10:43:00.001-05:00

Dads need to drive, not just because they are control freaks on the road, but because they just can’t do everything else properly (like moms do.)

Take, for example, our recent trip home from Christmas in North Carolina: nine hours in a minivan with a one-year-old, a three- year-old, a six-year-old, a seven-year-old and a LOT of presents.

We attempted something we usually try to avoid: driving during the day when the kids are awake.

I would’ve saved myself a lot of frustration and yelling if I had just squeezed my butt in the back between the booster seats from the very beginning. Unfortunately, though, I gained ten pounds over Christmas and my butt wasn’t squeezing in anywhere.

So we started off with Dad in the driver’s seat (where he belongs) and me in the passenger seat, surrounded by toys, drinks with ill-fitting lids, candy wrappers, books, coats, pillows and who knows what else. Dad paid no attention to the kids. His eyes were on the road. He was focused. He was a driving machine.

Of course, we hadn’t made it out of the driveway yet.

Less than 20 minutes into the trip, the children ended up “needing things,” as children often do. Things like having their dolls’ hair untangled, their pencils sharpened, their hands “unstickied,” their Etch-a-Sketches repaired, extra straws for their juice boxes, the radio turned up, the radio turned down, the radio turned off, the heat turned on, the heat turned off, the crackers picked up off the floor, a blanket, a fan, a mint, some gum…. I, of course, ended up in a weird sideways half-sitting, half-reaching behind me position.

After an hour or so, my leg cramped up and I had to stick my feet up on the dash. Dad, oblivious to his needy children, changed lanes and pretended that he was a NASCAR driver.

Once I managed to contort myself into a torture position with my head twisted around at an unnatural angle, I proceeded to fill the enviable role of Entertainer Extraordinaire!

I can only read so many stories and play so many games of I Spy. Let’s face it: when you're in the car, the answer for something green is always grass. My Activity Bag contains a finite amount of activities. A movie on a laptop would come in handy, but unfortunately I’m against them (if I suffered through a childhood of boring car rides, my kids can too.)

“Okay! Who wants to play Stare Out the Window with Your Mouth Closed? Anyone?”

Snacks help too, but I’ve found that the best thing to do is suggest that they snuggle in with their “car pillow” and rest their eyes for a few minutes. Since they’ve been bored out of their gourds for the past 100 miles, they usually fall for it. It seems to work better than the version Dad uses when he’s not driving, which is “SHUT IT AND GO TO SLEEP!”

Dads hate stopping to rest, stretch legs, change diapers, eat, or pee. Moms know that the two keys to ensuring a pleasant trip are dry butts and pacing yourself. No one wants to sit in a wet diaper or be stuffed into a car seat for hours on end. But you can forget about stopping by museums, historical sites or tourist traps with Dads. Dads are on a schedule. Dads need to “beat their best time.”

No matter what, it’s going to be a pain in the butt. You’re going to hear “Mommy” a thousand times. People are going to get smacked and kicked (and possibly poked in the eye with crayons) by their siblings. Dads are going to turn on their selective hearing and ignore everyone, but it's just as well. They could never contort, entertain or mollycoddle the way that moms can anyway.

Nothing is going to go the way you planned it and you are going to have to stop at a dirty bathroom somewhere, so you might as well just deal with it. Keep a fake smile on your face and lower your voice. Even though the Ohio River may look inviting as Dad roars over it at 78 miles an hour, remember that the trip WILL end.

Eventually.

from my 1/1/12 post for www.mentorpatch.com

Famous words

2011-12-30T16:09:00.002-05:00

After reading "Growing up Where Jesus Lived" we had a discussion about Passover and the Pharoah and all of that stuff. Josie was concerned about all of the firstborn dying. Sadie said, "Well, I guess that was bad news for me." Josie said, "Did the other kids die, too? No? Whew. Good." Adelaide then pretended to be the Pharoah and I was supposed to be Moses. I kept asking her to let my people go, and she kept refusing. I finally asked, "OH, PLEASE, PLEASE let my people go!" and she rolled her eyes, sat back, and said, "Okay, fine. Get outta here."

Adelaide: "That thing is hunormous."

Josie, pretending to be a sheep at Christmas: "Baa-aaaah. Hum-bug."

Mommy to Adelaide, while hugging: "You're my girl."
Adelaide to Mommy, while hugging: "You're my mom."

Jedidiah, after fake coughing to make fun of Mommy and straining and reaching to make fun of Daddy, while making Cheerio soup to splash his hands in on his high-chair tray: "Goggle gog gog, Gee go go, AAAH! GigglegigglegiggOOOH!"

Adelaide walked into the room, looked at me, and said, "Well, Mom, I don't have any plans." Then she walked out.

The Same old Song

2011-12-28T15:53:00.000-05:00

Josie's version of "Here Comes Santa Claus"

-I pretend that I am sleeping
But he knows that I'm awake
He knows that I'm not being good
Dooby, dooby, dooby, doop

Sadie's favorite new song, thanks to her dad:

-Jingle bells, Daddy smells
from fifteen miles away
picks his nose with Cheerios
and eats them everyday! HEY!

Sadie and Josie's new (and unfortunately, catchy, tune... coined on our trip to look at Christmas lights in Willoughby):

-"Howdaya catch a candy cane on your anniversary? Heyheyhey! Howdaya catch a candy cane on your anniverSAREE!? HeyheyHEY!"

AND...

Adelaide's favorite song of the year:

-It's the most WONderFUL time of da YEAR! WONDERFUL! OF da YEAR! THE YEAR!
Josie: You're weird.
Adelaide, matter-of-factly: No, I'm not. It IS the most wonderful time. Of the year.

Spirit of Christmas

2011-12-25T16:25:00.002-05:00

I made it almost twelve whole hours before I flipped out.

We are staying at my grandma’s house for Christmas and, though we love it, we are crammed in here like sardines. Sardines with too much luggage, a week’s worth of diapers and a pack-n-play.

Sardines with a “pallet” built out of foam rubber, two sheets and a comforter on the floor of the extra bedroom. Sardines who can’t find their jackets, their math workbooks, their boots or their blankies. Hot sardines – because Grandma keeps her house a tropical 80 degrees.

Now, I am a person who likes to live by the creed “a place for everything and everything in its place.” Unfortunately, that motto will just not work when we’re here.

Laundry, toys, luggage, presents, shoes… stuff is everywhere. We have no dresser drawers, no closets. Though it’s all part of being on “vacation,” it makes me crazy. Especially during the holidays when everything’s kind of crazy anyway.

The day we got here, the girls decided they wanted to go and surprise their Papaw at work. To make the surprise work, we had to hurry and get dressed and arrive at exactly the right time or we would miss him.

After digging through our bags to find jeans, sweaters, and jackets, we spent the next ten minutes trying to find three sets of matching shoes. To save space, I only packed two pairs of shoes for everyone: regular shoes and church shoes. Both kinds proved to be somewhat elusive.

Once they were finally ready to go, I sent the kids outside to get in the car while I finished getting myself (and the baby) dressed. I assumed, since their dad was outside, that the girls would be supervised. Big mistake.

I searched through a pile of baby stuff, looking for the wet wipes. When I reached for a diaper, I dumped all the makeup out of my makeup bag. My only tube of lip gloss landed in my suitcase and disappeared amidst books, yoga pants, a flatiron and pajamas. I think maybe I lost the Spirit of Christmas in there somewhere, too.

Annoyed and with decidedly un-glossy lips, I finished with the baby and headed outside.

There, I found my husband leaning back on the porch, apparently lost in thought. All three of the girls were nowhere to be seen. This was because they were looking for Rudolph in the backyard – in the sopping wet grass and mud.

In their only pair of regular shoes.

I snapped.

After I yelled, “This is all your fault! What are you even DOING?” at Jesse and “Get in the car NOW!” at the kids, I stripped them of their shoes and socks. I hollered something along the lines of: “We are trying to leave! Don’t you even think? If you’re trying to be on time, why would you mess up your only pair of shoes (besides church shoes) when you are supposed to already be in the CAR?” And so forth.

Jesse decided he should probably just stay home. I said “Fine!”

I stomped into the house, slung the soppy shoes in front of the heater, dug around until I found everyone’s church shoes, then stomped back to the car.

I threw sparkly silver (Adelaide), black patent leather (Sadie) and red kid leather (Josie) shoes in through the window and slammed the car into reverse.

Just then, Josie said, “Mommy… Mom. Hey, Mom. It’s Christmas!”

I stopped. I breathed. I sighed. “You’re right,” I admitted. I apologized.

Jesse came back to the car. We talked with the kids about how it’s hard to be away from home when you don’t know where all your stuff is, when everything is a mess, when you are so cramped and crowded (and hot.)

The girls thought about this for a minute. Then Josie said, “Well, here’s the good thing. The good thing is it’s Christmas and we are all cozy and warm. And we are all together.”

Who knew that I’d find the missing Spirit of Christmas right there in the backseat of my mini-van?

Merry Christmas, everyone!

-from my 12/25/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Tooth Fairy

2011-12-23T11:10:00.002-05:00

Josie lost her front tooth while we were in North Carolina over Christmas. She has lost three teeth now, and EVERY ONE of them came out while we were in North Carolina! We were sitting on the couch at Great Grandma's house, and suddenly Josie said, "Aaaah!! My toof! My toof came out!" and sure enough, there it was in her hand. It always makes me a little bit sad when one of my kids loses a tooth. There, in her little palm, was the symbol of her babyhood! Her very first little top tooth that used to chew on her crib rails, her teething ring, and (sometimes) her sister. Sigh.

Josie's take: "Well, now I can thing "All I want for Chrithmath ith my two front teef."

She decided that the Tooth Fairy would definitely come while we were in NC, so she wrote a little note and put it with her tooth under her pillow. Then she said, "The Tooth Fairy has written Sadie TWO different notes, but I haven't gotten one yet!"

Well, as luck would have it, the Tooth Fairy DID leave her a note that night. Then she said, while greedily counting her $2.50, "Hmm. Sadie's Tooth Fairy note was sparkly and gold. Mine is written in PENCIL!"

Sheesh. The Tooth Fairy does not have as many craft and art supplies at Great Grandma's house!

The First Three Days

2011-12-18T22:00:00.001-05:00

On a whim, we decided to take off on Thursday night. You should've seen their faces! I thought Josie would literally explode with happiness and that Sadie's face would crack in half...and Josie grabbed me and hugged and hugged me so tight. Then we drove ALL night, arriving around 4:00am on Friday morning. Adelaide asked MANY MANY times how many minutes it would be until we got to North Carolina. The kids all finally went to sleep around 11:30 after we made ONE stop to get gas and cheese fries at Wendy's. Except for Jed. He sat in his little seat and sucked on his two fingers and looked around (he just got turned face-forward) for TWO hours! They were really good... we listened to Christmas songs, and talked, and it was a good trip. Jesse got us here (miraculously, and without speeding, and WITH a cartop carrier) in about seven hours.

The kids love getting here in the middle of the night, and Great Grandma was happy to see us! They wanted to just pile in and surprise her, but I didn't think that it was a very good idea to scare her to death in the middle of the night. :)

No one knew we were home, so we decided that we'd go and surprise Papaw when he got back from work. I called Mamaw to find out what time he'd be back (Josie said, "You don't think Mamaw will TELL him, do you!?") and we met him just in time! Even though it was raining, we pulled in and parked about 2 minutes before he came wheeling in. The girls jumped out and ran across the parking lot just as he got out of the Jeep and they yelled, "SURPRISE! We wanted to surprise you at work!" And he said, "Well, you did!" and then they went inside with him for a couple of minutes and met his boss and a couple of people he worked with. It was fun.

Next I went to see my friend Becky at her new job and then we met Papaw and Mamaw for lunch at the Mexican place. Sadie and Josie went back to their house with them while we went to Walmart and then back to their house. We had a good evening, talking and playing and snuggling Jedidiah.

Saturday we ate Bojangle's for breakfast, and Jesse took the girls to see Cameron's basketball game. Grandma and I went to Betty and Dean's thrift store and the pawn shop (I looked at shotguns :) and later we went up to play at Angela's. The girls saw their first "deer kill" when Scotty and Cameron got back from hunting in the woods. Blech.

Next we ate spaghetti and salad at Mamaw's and Papaw's house and had storytelling hour! We heard about ghosts, angels, and Papaw's dog-shooting days. Jed (and everyone else) could not keep themselves off the treadmill. Why is that thing so much fun?

This morning, we got up early and went to see Cameron get baptized! It was exciting and it also brought tears to my eyes. It was so cute to see his giant grin on his little face :) and we got to see Adam and Laurie too, which was nice, since we haven't seen them in two years!

Next, we stopped and picked up Grandma and Nettie and headed up the mountain to White Oak for the Christmas play and more importantly, TREAT BAGS! Apparently, I have really talked up the treat bag tradition more than I realized. The kids were so excited about getting their little white bags filled with an apple, orange, candy bars, a marshmallow santa, nuts, candy canes, gum, etc. Josie couldn't stop talking about it all through church.... "Psst. Mom. Where are the treat bags? Did they give out the treat bags yet? Is it time for the treat bags? Are the treat bags after church? Or after the play? Or what?" and my personal favorite: "So is it a TREAT, or is it a BAG?" :)

My other favorite part (besides the treat bags and seeing lots of old friends and loved ones) was seeing Bobby dressed as Santa driving the church van. Priceless! Wish I had gotten a picture!

We met Becky, Stephen, and Hailey for lunch at (where else?) Village Inn! Yahoo! Unfortunately, everyone else in the county had the same idea. It was crowded and HOT. But good. And Hailey came home with us to play too... they played over at Nettie's, and found "fairy snails" outside on her garage door.

Then we went over to Madge and Steve's house to listen to some "picking and grinning," which was awesome! They played us some Bill Monroe and some Ricky Skaggs and it was very cool and bluegrassy. Then they played beauty shop till Hailey had to go and then Sharon, Thomas and Elizabeth, and Britt and Natasha and their kids came over. We ate pintos, cornbread, and potatoes for supper while the kids played. Jed and Colton both share the same interests: playing ball and playing in the toilet. Bayleigh informed her mom that "Adelaide doesn't bite anymore except for when she's mad."

Forget the Bad List

2011-12-18T16:31:00.001-05:00

“Okay, girls, it’s time for bed,” I make the dreaded announcement to my Christmas-pajama-clad daughters.

“But MOM! We haven’t even started playing yet! We just finished setting up!”

Since they’ve been at it for well over two hours, I can’t understand how this is possible. It is, however, a pattern I’ve noticed with my children. They spend so much time “setting up” that they hardly ever get to actually play anything.

Now, I could take this one of two ways. I could feel sorry for my kids that they don’t spend sixteen hours a day “playing ponies” or paper dolls (fourteen of those hours for setting up, of course), or I could just be glad that they enjoy the setting up.

Decking the halls, trimming the tree, making the presents, wrapping the gifts… my kids somehow inherently know that “getting there is half the fun.” They have unknowingly adopted this mindset as their life’s philosophy.

The excitement, the build-up, the waiting, the anticipation of birthdays, parties, sleepovers, vacations, traveling, Christmas – life’s a journey, not a destination. Maybe I listened to too much Aerosmith during my pregnancies, but somehow my girls get it.

Somehow, they’ve missed the problem that I’ve always had: High expectations lead to big disappointments. Over the years, I’ve learned that the lower my expectations, the better off I’ll be.

A pre-marriage book that my husband and I read advised us to go into our marriage with very low expectations. “The lower, the better,” it told us. And Ben Franklin once said, “Blessed is he that expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.” Funny, maybe, but there’s a bit of ironic wisdom there too, isn’t there?

But my girls spend their entire lives expecting. Waiting. Dreaming. Anticipating.

A lot of times, things don’t turn out the way they had hoped. Maybe the tea party wasn’t exactly what they expected. Maybe the long-awaited trip to the theater downtown was boring. Maybe their picnic got rained out. Maybe The Nutcracker was sold out. Maybe Santa got confused on the difference between Fairy Friends Barbie and Fairy Secret Barbie (it does happen, believe it or not!).

They don’t water down their dreams, though. They don’t protect themselves by pretending that they aren’t excited. And strangely enough, even when things don’t go their way, they aren’t disappointed very often. They smile, dwell on the good parts and forget about the bad parts. What a way to go through life!

I constantly learn things from my children. This Christmas I’ve learned that maybe I should spend more time enjoying the process of my life. I need to do more "setting up" myself. Maybe it’s not my great expectations that cause me to be disappointed (or not) in the end. Maybe it’s my own attitude and how I choose to deal with the gifts (and gag gifts) that life sends my way.

-from my 12/18/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Making Memories

2011-12-11T16:26:00.000-05:00

“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

2011-12-07T22:16:00.001-05:00

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

2011-12-04T16:23:00.001-05:00

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

Long Day

2011-11-29T21:51:00.001-05:00

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

2011-11-27T16:18:00.002-05:00

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

2011-11-20T16:15:00.001-05:00

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!

2011-11-17T22:27:00.000-05:00

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

2011-11-13T21:19:00.004-05:00

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

2011-11-12T21:29:00.002-05:00

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

2011-11-06T21:15:00.001-05:00

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

2011-11-03T22:22:00.001-04:00

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

2011-11-01T22:29:00.000-04:00

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

2011-10-31T16:04:00.002-04:00

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

2011-10-30T14:14:00.000-04:00

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

2011-10-26T14:58:00.003-04:00

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

2011-10-23T22:14:00.000-04:00

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

2011-10-18T22:47:00.003-04:00

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?

2011-10-16T22:06:00.000-04:00

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

2011-10-09T22:25:00.000-04:00

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?

2011-10-09T22:05:00.000-04:00

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

2011-10-07T21:07:00.002-04:00

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

Definitely

2011-10-02T22:49:00.001-04:00

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

2011-10-02T22:32:00.001-04:00

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

2011-09-28T20:15:00.001-04:00

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

2011-09-27T20:50:00.003-04:00

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!

2011-09-27T20:49:00.001-04:00

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

2011-09-25T22:34:00.000-04:00

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

2011-09-22T21:33:00.000-04:00

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

2011-09-19T15:15:00.001-04:00

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

2011-09-19T15:10:00.002-04:00

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

2011-09-18T22:37:00.000-04:00

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?

2011-09-12T22:06:00.004-04:00

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

2011-09-12T14:32:00.004-04:00

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

2011-09-11T22:39:00.000-04:00

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

2011-09-09T15:17:00.001-04:00

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

2011-09-05T22:30:00.002-04:00

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"

2011-09-04T22:41:00.000-04:00

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

2011-08-28T22:39:00.002-04:00

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

No Such thing as Typical

2011-08-21T22:41:00.001-04:00

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

2011-08-14T22:47:00.002-04:00

“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!

2011-08-13T22:19:00.003-04:00

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!

2011-08-02T16:30:00.005-04:00

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

2011-08-01T16:24:00.002-04:00

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?

2011-07-31T16:28:00.000-04:00

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

2011-07-24T16:22:00.000-04:00

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

2011-07-18T23:02:00.003-04:00

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...

2011-07-18T22:39:00.002-04:00

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!

2011-07-17T16:20:00.000-04:00

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

2011-07-10T14:55:00.003-04:00

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

2011-07-10T13:11:00.005-04:00

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

2011-07-03T21:32:00.003-04:00

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

2011-07-03T13:10:00.001-04:00

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?

2011-07-01T21:46:00.000-04:00

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

2011-06-30T21:36:00.000-04:00

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

2011-06-25T23:27:00.002-04:00

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

2011-06-25T23:18:00.002-04:00

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!

2011-06-25T23:02:00.002-04:00

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

2011-06-25T21:52:00.000-04:00

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

2011-06-14T23:26:00.005-04:00

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

2011-06-08T21:35:00.004-04:00

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?

2011-06-06T21:54:00.000-04:00

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:

2011-05-31T22:40:00.003-04:00

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

2011-05-28T23:34:00.000-04:00

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

2011-05-28T23:31:00.001-04:00

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

2011-05-23T23:33:00.000-04:00

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?

2011-05-22T23:18:00.005-04:00

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...

2011-05-22T23:04:00.002-04:00

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...

2011-05-21T11:11:00.004-04:00

"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

2011-05-11T22:59:00.000-04:00

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

2011-05-11T22:52:00.000-04:00

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

2011-05-02T17:03:00.001-04:00

“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

2011-05-01T22:45:00.002-04:00

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.

Hairy Situation

2011-04-26T17:56:00.003-04:00

Seems like a lot of my thoughts that I used to get out while blogging are now getting out through another creative outlet: my weekly newspaper column. I am neglecting my blog for the first time in SIX YEARS! I feel bad about it, too. I must remedy the situation.

The other day Becky came over, and we decided that Jed is definitely going to have red hair like hers. She came up with the patent-pending "Becky-Toupee" idea, and so here you have a preview of what is to come:

Most Beautiful?

2011-04-21T13:26:00.001-04:00

We enter a local restaurant for dinner. I see the look of panic in the cute little 20-something server’s eyes when I ask for a table for six, including a high chair and a sling for the baby’s car seat.

She definitely has her work cut out for her. Meanwhile, as someone who recently gave birth to a gigantic baby, I feel a bit self-conscious as we follow her skinny-jean-wearing self to the back corner of the room.

We play musical chairs, trying to decide where I can best “hide” to nurse the baby and who is going to sit by Adelaide, who is well-known for spilling drinks, spitting out half-chewed broccoli and generally being hard to get along with while at the table.

Unfortunately, the restaurant has a TV blaring in the corner. Since they become blank-eyed, staring zombies any time there is a television in their vicinity, I try to limit my kids’ television exposure. Tonight, we have no choice but to watch and listen.

My husband and I take turns at the salad bar while the girls get busy decorating their placemats with their crayons, stopping now and then to gaze at some random cleavage, some product that’s currently deemed sexy. I don’t want them to think those things are acceptable. Even though I feel insecure about my own appearance at the moment, I never want them to feel that way about themselves. I remember why I don’t let them watch TV.

I order “the usual:” three grilled cheese sandwiches and three orders of veggies for them. I decide to splurge and let them have sweet tea instead of their usual water with lemon.

A few minutes later, you can tell it’s us by the pile of grilled cheese crusts and melted ice on the floor, the pickle that landed two tables over, the screeching baby, the pile of jackets in the corner and the three tic-tac-toe covered kids’ menus on the table.

After filling a bowl up with peaches from the salad bar for the third time, I return to our table just in time to hear a loud TV announcement about The World’s Most Beautiful Woman.

My husband zones the girls in by waving his hand in front of their faces so they’ll glance away from the TV. He asks my daughters who they think The World’s Most Beautiful Woman is. Adelaide, the 2-year-old, says, “I am!” Sadie, the thinker, says, “I just don’t have any idea – let me think.” Josie, the emotional one, looks straight at me and says, “You are, Mommy.”

I look down at my spit-up stained, freshly drooled-on shirt, my yoga pants (my jeans still won’t fit since my last pregnancy), mismatched socks and ragged nails. I think of my frizzy, neglected hair, the bags under my eyes and the extra 30 pounds I still need to lose.

I smile, touched by Josie’s sweetness, by her unsolicited, immediate response to such a question.

I look over at the frazzled waitress as she brings over yet another stack of extra napkins. Thanks to us, she’s having a bad night. I wonder how she still looks like she just stepped out of a magazine.

But if my little girl thinks I am The World’s Most Beautiful Woman, then maybe I am.

From my April 17th article on www.mentorpatch.com

April Update

2011-04-20T15:04:00.001-04:00

While playing with her Legos, Sadie must've switched over to her Sunday School lesson. She broke all her towers apart and yelled, "And then the Holy Spirit rained down on them!"

Sadie admonished one of her friends: "Do not stick your tongue out, that's almost like spitting, and people spit on Jesus when they were crucifying Him!"

Sadie, chanting: "I'm from the IRS! I'm from the IRS"
Josie, tired of hearing it: "Yeah, well, I'm from the USA!"

Josie to Sadie: "Remember when you were four and I was three and Daddy used to pick one of us up in each arm and carry us around? (sigh). Those were the days."

While listening to Josh Turner's country song, Josie asks, "Did he say MEAN God?" "No, no, I answered. It's Me AND God."

Adelaide, recalling her dip in the hot tub at Grandma Beth's: "And we were at Gwandma's and we got into her big baftub and she put bubbles in dere and I got bubbles up to my BEARD! You mean your chin? YEAH!"

Josie ordered ficken chingers at LongHorn.

Adelaide, with my breast pump apparatus on her head: "Look I'm the tin man!"

Jedidiah found his toes, is kicking his toys on his bouncy seat, grabbing hair and earrings, and drooling like a crazy man!

Adelaide's Song

2011-04-11T20:55:00.005-04:00

Adelaide's Song

"I like to pee in the FLOOO-OOR...
Oh no I don't I'm just kidding
Twinkle twinkle little star...
Suck your thumb and dance with me
Quack quack, you're a fuzzyhead
And that's my SONG! The end!"

The Bike Lesson

2011-04-10T13:25:00.002-04:00

“The first lesson that you have to learn when riding a bike is how to fall,” my husband explains to our 5-year-old daughter. “If you never fall – if you’re too afraid to fall – you’ll never learn how to ride.”

Buckling on her pink and purple Barbie helmet, she swings her little leg up and over her sparkly princess bike. She settles in for the ride, a determined look on her face.

She takes off down the driveway with her dad running along behind her, holding onto the back of her seat to give her extra balance. She likes the extra stability of knowing that he’s there.

He lets go when she least expects it.

She zooms along with a triumphant look on her face. “I’m doing it! I’m doing it!” she yells over her shoulder, making sure we’re watching. Suddenly she’s free. She’s flying, soaring, the wind in her hair.

Unfortunately that first beautiful taste of childhood freedom never lasts for long. Wobbly handlebars, teetering wheels and a crash on the sidewalk led to a skinned knee, a scraped knuckle and tears of embarrassment.

“Falling isn’t something to cry about or to be ashamed of. It’s part of learning,” her dad tells her as he checks to make sure she’s okay. “The next lesson that you have to learn is how to get back up. Every time you fall you can be one step closer to your goal, but only if you get back up.”

I think about those words. They apply to so many other things in life besides learning to ride a bicycle.

Sometimes people let go of us when we least expect it. Things don’t always turn out how we want them to. Sometimes our plans don't work out; sometimes our dreams end up as just dreams.

I think about the freedom, the joy, the exhilaration that comes along with growing up. I think about the crashes, the tears and the pain. We all fall sometimes.

And we all have to learn to get back up.

I don’t think her daddy realizes just how much he might be teaching her during this afternoon lesson. I don’t speak metaphorically to point this out. I don’t draw parallels for him, or tell him he’s like a wise old sage.

No, I don’t mention any of these things as she untangles herself, brushes the dirt off her hands, wipes her eyes and takes a deep, raggedy breath.

I just stand back and watch as she climbs back on.

From my April 10th article on www.mentorpatch.com

Unlucky Girl Makes Me Appreciate Simple Things

2011-04-04T22:00:00.001-04:00

My fourth article from www.mentorpatch.com!

She talked of places she wished she had been – places she wished someone would have taken her – the zoo, the museum, the park.

The girl, we’ll call her Becca, recently turned 18 and therefore “aged out of the system,” leaving the safe haven of a school for abused, neglected, and underprivileged teens. When I learned her story last week, she was on the way back into her reality – a home that had been anything but a haven during her childhood years.

She wished for someone to bake cookies with her.

Instead, she was neglected by her mother, hungry, malnourished.

She dreamed of planting a garden outside in the fresh air.

Instead, she hid in a closet, trying to become invisible.

She wanted to learn to make clothes for her doll, maybe a dollhouse.

Instead, she learned that no place was permanent, no place was safe.

Now expecting her own child, she hopes for a new beginning. She believes those that hurt her in the past have changed. She believes she can create a better life for the child within her.

While Becca dreams of her future, I can’t help but think of her past – the little girl she could have been. The little girl she might have been. The little girl she should have been.

Will anyone take the time to teach this young woman how to be a mother? Will she break the cycle of neglect and abuse into which she was born?

As adults, and especially as parents, we are in a position of great power. But as we learned from Spider-Man, with great power comes great responsibility. Circumstances like Becca’s seem hopeless. There are so many who need our attention; there are so few hours in our day. Is there something – anything – we can do?

The world is full of opportunity.

I remember the story about the little boy who spent every morning throwing the starfish that washed up on the beach back into the ocean. A man saw his determination to finish such an endless, thankless task. He said, “You can’t save all of them. How can you possibly make a difference?” As he threw another starfish back into the water to live another day, the little boy said, “I made a difference to that one!”

Maybe we can’t make a difference to everyone. But can we make a difference to just one? Could we change the world for a little girl like Becca? Definitely.

When my 6-year-old asks to bake cookies in the kitchen, I’m inclined to think of the mess, of the chaos that will ensue. What I should think of is the opportunity I have to spend time with her.

When she asks me to dig in the dirt with her outside, I should jump at the chance, not complain about the mess all over the driveway. When she wants to learn to sew, I shouldn’t cringe at the thought of her wielding a needle – I should hold her in my arms and teach her.

These are simple things to us. But as I learned from Becca – not so far removed from the little girl she once was – the simple things might just mean everything.

Messy, Messy

2011-04-03T13:23:00.001-04:00

My April 3rd article from www.mentorpatch.com

“Mommy! I peed in the bed!"

There’s nothing like that little declaration to jump-start your day. And so it begins.

"Mommy! I spilled the juice! I dumped my raisins in the couch! I have gum in my hair! I have mud on my pants! I got dog poop on my shoe! I have syrup on my hands! I have marshmallow on my face! I have cheese in my ear!” I have (fill in gross substance and various body part here)!

Recently, my 2-year-old managed to break a big bottle of cooking wine all over my kitchen floor. She was fine, and nobody got a boo-boo, but you can imagine the huge mess I had to clean up.

In addition to the sticky tile, the spill also left me with what smelled like a pint-size wino. I was somewhat concerned that we might encounter a policeman at the grocery store. Really, who wants the authorities to smell alcohol on their kid’s Garanimals?

On the other hand, she probably did me a favor because I had to clean it up. I used to be a neat freak. Back in the old days, you could eat off my kitchen floor. These days, you really could eat off my kitchen floor (because it contains the crumby equivalent of half a loaf of bread).

Since having my fourth child, I’m of the “clean only when absolutely necessary” mindset.

The only way my kitchen floor seems to get mopped these days is if one of my girls accidentally spills water on it and I have to wipe it up. I spread it around as much as possible, to create a two-foot "clean radius."

Sometimes I don’t even bend over to do it, much less scrub it on my hands and knees like my mom taught me. Throw a clean rag down to soak up the water, and let your foot do the wiping. If you’re coordinated enough, you can kick the damp rag in the air and catch it without ever having to bend over.

I guess I should put as much effort into actually cleaning as I put into thinking about ways to avoid it. But like all moms, I'm busy. I’m tired. I'm overscheduled. I'm in need of a nap.

Life with kids is messy. When you're someone like me who appreciates order and a set schedule (hey, I said I appreciate it, not that I actually achieve it), then the chaos (and dirt) that takes over when you have grubby little kids running around is a challenge. Kids get dirt on your clean floors. They drool on your shirt. They crumble on your bed. They get grape juice on the counter. They get Play-Doh in your carpet. They get (fill in anything icky and random area in your house here).

Love is messy, too, though. If it were too clean, too easy, it would be boring instead of exciting. Life, love, being a mom … it’s one big mess, isn’t it? But sometimes a big ol’ kiss from sticky little chocolate-milk-flavored lips makes the mountains of used paper towels worth it.

Um, Sweetie? Could you spill some of your water over here? There's a sticky spot on the floor.

Sadie is Seven!

2011-04-02T22:03:00.004-04:00

On Sadie's actual birthday, (Jesse gave her a brand new pink bike in the morning - she's outgrown her other bike already) we all went out to El Rodeo as a family. Sadie got to wear the birthday sombrero, and Josie was super excited to give her a little pink tote bag with Starbursts inside. From us, she got some pink cowboy boots, her very own HUGE bath towel, new hot pink flip-flops, a fairy-flap book, a Rapunzel Barbie, and a Left Center Right game. We really had a fun time together there... it's definitely our favorite place to eat, even if there ARE six of us now!!

The following Saturday, we went to a tea room for her birthday party (she wrote out her invitations herself - cute!). We got all dressed up (even Daddy wore a coat and a hat), including ME - I wore gloves AND a big floppy hat. Sadie wore a little pearl colored dress with pearl trim and buttons, Josie wore a black, white, and pink dress (and her bear-bear wore a matching one) and Adelaide wore a white and blue dress with her new cute white and pink hat. We looked cute, if I do say so myself. The girls (all eight of them) sat at their very own table and were very ladylike with their very own china cups and a birthday cake shaped teapot. They had berry berry tea, double decker PBJ sandwiches, fruit kabobs, chips, cookie wands, and princess cupcakes. The food seemed to be a big hit, and it was so cute to watch all of them giggling and being "ladies" together.

Snippets

2011-04-01T14:26:00.004-04:00

Adelaide and I went to Sam's Club and to run some other errands. By the time we we were almost finished, she was getting grumpy. I said, "I think you need a nap." She replied, "I do not need a nap. I need a donut."

Melissa and Caroline had an impromptu sleepover here last week while Josie was gone with Jesse to visit Uncle Les and Aunt Sharon in Maryland. I caught Sadie in the family room in the pink Princess chair, reading stories to Adelaide and Caroline, who were sacked out on the floor on pillows for "story-time." Josie, meanwhile, was having a blast during her "special Daddy time," checking out Les and Sharon's house, eating chicken wings and noodles, and picking Grandma up at the airport.

I cannot find the cute little blue stripey tobaggan that Grandma Beth bought for Jed ANYWHERE. It was really cold the other morning when we left to go to Bible Study, so I had to put his red and white striped pointy elf hat on (that Sarah got him at Christmas). Needless to say, he was a HUGE hit with the ladies in my group! He gets passed around most every week, but he looked extra cute in his elfey hat.

The three girls and I made pizzas for lunch last week. It's nice to have them all together in the kitchen with me, but since they all like to sit up on the counter, butt-space is at a premium! They love eating the teeny little pepperonis off the pizzas, just like Angela and I used to do.

Last week, I did a Facebook/email fast day to go along with 40 Days for Life. It was MUCH harder than I thought it would be to unplug myself from the world! Now when I tell Sadie to unplug (her thumb) I think I will feel a little more empathetic.

Crimes moms commit: Purgery - stuffing broken toys into a trash can and sneaking it out to the curb. I need to commit more purgery!!!

On Jesse's birthday, we went out while Grammie watched the kids for us. He decided to give ME a present on his birthday: a restaurant with an Elvis impersonator! I took their picture together (he also got photo-bombed by a guy sitting behind us, who I asked what he thought he was doing?! when he got up to leave :). My picture caption: Elvis with a Jesse impersonator. You can tell it's not really him becuase he's got on a Detroit Lions shirt.

Josie started going to golf lessons with her Daddy a couple of weeks ago. Apparently, she's a natural! He says she has a natural follow through, which coupled with her left-handedness, makes her a mini-pro. Who knows? Maybe she'll be a Tigress Woods one day (minus the creepy parts, of course).

I asked Adelaide, who was dressed up in a ballerina tutu, if she could be any cuter, and she said, "Nope!"

Reminisce

2011-03-28T23:39:00.002-04:00

I can't believe that my first baby, my sweet Sadaroo, is going to be SEVEN tomorrow. SEVEN! It seems like just yesterday, we were bringing her home from Davis Hospital, a tiny little thing in a pink and yellow jacket. I was TERRIFIED when Jesse pulled onto I40 next to a tractor trailer. Her life seemed so fragile - I couldn't stand to think that we were so helpless and she was completely in my hands to protect! It was the longest car ride of my life! Tonight, when I hugged her goodnight, I realized that it was the last time I would ever hug my SIX-Year-old Sadie. Sigh. She's growing up so fast, and I love her so much.

Please stay little
Just a little while longer
Don't grow up so fast
Pleast stay little
Just a little while longer
I want this moment to last.

Ask Adelaide Why

2011-03-20T22:23:00.003-04:00

and she will answer:

Cause I do.
Cause I am.
Cause I was.
Cause I wasn't.
Cause I did.
Cause I didn't.

Storytime

2011-03-20T22:21:00.001-04:00

My third column from www.mentorpatch.com - this one made me cry. Seriously - I'm such a sap.

"Just one more, Mommy?" Josie asked as we sat in the rocking chair in her room.

"Please?" We had already read two stories, and it was time for bed.

I love those just-bathed, damp-haired, sweet-smelling, teeth-brushed, pajama-wearing moments when my girls climb onto my lap and snuggle in for a good story.

It takes me back to when I was a little girl and my daddy used to read to me every night. Since he worked long hours, bedtime was our special time together. More than the stories themselves, I remember the safe, happy feeling of being held on his lap in our old, bright orange ‘70s-era rocking chair.

I hope my girls will remember the feeling, too.

Sometimes they know the stories better than I do. They can quote Goodnight Moon or The Foot Book word for word. Sometimes I share one of my childhood favorites like Scuffy the Tugboat or Sylvester and the Magic Pebble. (I still have practically every book I’ve ever owned – I can't bear to part with them. They are like old friends).

Sometimes they try to convince me to read Love You Forever, a story about a mommy who sneaks in and watches her child sleeping at night as he grows up before her eyes. This book brings me to tears by the third page every time I read it. For some reason, my girls think it’s funny to see Mommy sniffling into a tissue and bawling like a baby.

Sometimes they get to choose from The Library Bag, which we usually restock every week or two. They dig through the bag like they're hunting for treasure.

They always find it.

We laugh together at Papa Bear's misadventures. We cry together when Laura Ingalls' old bulldog, Jack, dies. We sleepily whisper sing-song lullaby stories to each other. I realize that we are sharing more than just a book.

Now I know why my daddy took that special time to read with me. Soon my girls will be able to read their own stories. Soon they will be too big to sit on my lap. Soon they will be busy with things deemed more important than tonight's all-important bedtime story.

I look at Josie's rosy cheeks, the hopeful look in her eyes. I say, "OK, just one more."

Or maybe two.