it's better to have a willful child than complacent one

It's better to have a willful child than a complacent one.

It's better to have a willful child than a complacent one.

It's better to have a willful child than a complacent one.

I know this is true. 

I believe it with every fiber of my being. 

I just can't help wishing from time to time that they might be a little bit less willful...

With a house full of willful souls somethings gotta give. 

And it's usually this people-pleasing mama.

I know it's my fault. 

I'm not consistent 

strong enough

or even half as willful as most.

At the end of the day most of the fight has left me.

Some days I feel more beat down about it than I should.

Today is one of those days.

Some days I feel pulled in so many different directions it's tough to grin and bear it.

But there is a positive that I'm going to try and dwell on.

My willful children are strong and self assertive. 

I pray for it every night- that my children will grow up to be, "strong and confident, kind and generous, able to achieve all their dreams."  I say those words for them to hear every night.

I know that trait will take them far in life,

even if it does give me dark circles,

baggy eyes,

and more grey hairs than i can now count.

I'm looking forward to consistently getting a good night sleep,

for the first time in the past 10 years.

Dr. Ferber is going to be my hero.

I just know it.

He's gotta be.

The date is set.

Little Miss is staying in her bed-

falling asleep by herself in her own bed

and staying put all night long.

Monday, January 2 is the dawn of a new era.

Perhaps, with a good night sleep the rest of the troubles will feel less overwhelming.

First things first, you know.

sleeping angel

why wouldn't i want to snuggle this little angel with her full little lips, curls, long eye lashes, and dimpled chin all night long?

oh yeah. 

because she flails her arms and kicks like she's training for the tai chi olympics. 

and coughs in my face-

all

night

long!

help me dr. ferber!

Olive Oyl

I've been terribly sporadic in my posting. 

Some days I'll post twice.

Sometimes I'll go long stretches until I post again.

It's kind of the story of my life. 

I'm really dedicated to something for a good stretch of time.  Then that attention will wax and wane- like the moon, but far less predictable.

One thing is certain, my attention to my family comes first.  Everything else is worked in around them.

I think that's how it's supposed to be.

Lately I'm feeling like Popeye's Olive Oyl.  Like I'm stretched between a little girl who is into my every bit of business and being allowed to stay up later since she's getting bigger, and a little girl who won't let me be in the wee hours of the night.  She's stuck to me like glue from about midnight until morning.  Then there are two little boys who are also in need of love, attention, and affection.

Now I get it when my mom says her big kids exhausted her mentally and the little ones exhausted her physically.

I think I can only stretch so far.

I'd made up my mind to "Ferberize" Elsa over Christmas break.

But then she got sick.

Not just a little sniffle, but take-her-to-the-(McCleary)ER-on-Christmas-Eve because her ears were causing so much pain.  She sounds like a 60 year old bar maid with her raspy voice and broken blood vessels in one eye.

So, as much as I'd like to be the tough guy (so I can sleep in any position I want during the night...) I'm waiting until she's healthy before I'm mean and make her stay in her bed all night long.

And, again with the laundry complaints, but last week laundry got way out of hand (big surprise).  Here's a little sampling of the clean laundry I folded and put away yesterday.

Plus another FIVE LOADS!  I think there's something to the whole keeping just 3 pairs of pants and 3 shirts for each kid.  Might make my life a whole lot easier.

This is what happens when I put my chores on the back burner.  It's not pretty.

But we had a nice holiday with family, even if Mark did have to work Christmas day- at least he was able to go in at 10:30am so he could have Christmas morning and Christmas Eve with all the excitement and anticipation, at home with us.

Even with all the trials and tribulations, I know I lead a charmed life.

I have 4 happy and healthy (for the most part) kids, a husband I adore, fantastic friends, and a great family.

There isn't much more I would wish for.

Now, I wonder if I'll post again before the New Year...

Santa 2011

Every year we've taken our kids to see Santa to get their pictures taken.

It's the only annual photos we get of the kids (aside from school pictures) so I look forward to watching the changes in the kids reflected on Santa's lap.

The first year we thought we'd take baby Sarina to Portland's Nordstrom's so we could do a little tax free shopping while she was young enough to not realize what we were doing.  We were assuming Portland's Nordstrom's had a real santa with real photos just like in Seattle. 

I was bitterly disappointed to be handed a polariod.

LAME!

Every year after that we've gone to downtown Seattle instead.

Now, our photos aren't postcard perfect by any means.

But they certainly give a snapshot into the kids lives at the time they were taken.

Poor little Sarina trying to hold it together while her baby brother melted down next to her on a strange man's lap.

Sweet Charlie with his crazy long hair and bed head, looking like a poor neglected 3rd child.

Elsa content surrounded by brothers and a big sister.

This year they added a super sized IPad where the kids could make it snow while they waited for Santa.

Here they are getting ready for the real photographer to take their photo.

And yes, Elsa's wearing a skirt!  She also wore one for her preschool's Christmas performance!

Here's a youtube video #1 and youtube video #2 of them telling Santa what they want for Christmas. 

I LOVE santa's response to Carl's request.

I also love that both Sarina and Carl play with Elsa's hair when they're nervous. 

And I love it more that she looks so annoyed about it.

Here they are when it's all said and done. 

Next stop, Red Mill!  Best burgers ever!

Kids Say the Darndest Things

This conversation was held at the breakfast bar this morning.

Charlie: "When you were a kid did you turn into a grown-up?"

Me: "Yup."

Charlie:  "Will Carl too?"

Me: "Yes, and you will too."

Carl: "Then a grandpa then an angel."

I think angels are always on his mind.

I wish I could listen into my kids thoughts.

I guess recording some of these random conversations will have to do.

You Get What You Pay For

Recently, I read a blog that I thought was so sweet it brought a little lump to my throat. 

The woman who wrote it is so creative and has such a lovely home.  It's one blog I read fairly often (because she is set up so that it emails notices when she posts and she often has nice downloadable documents and crafts I'm inspired to try from time to time).

It was funny timing. 

My husband went to Goodwill shortly after I read it to look for a goofy Christmas party ensemble.

We were chatting on the phone as he walked through the store (also looking for a white elephant gift) naming things as he passed.

When he said nativity set for $4 I said, "Buy it!" 

I'd been wanting one for a while but put it off knowing my kids would play with it and not be so gentle.  But heck, for $4 why not?

When he brought it home, I was excited to set it up.  And as we pulled each piece out of the box all carefully wrapped in bubble wrap and I wondered who would get rid of such a pretty porcelain, hand painted set. 

Until all the pieces were out and displayed and I surveyed the scene.

Hmmm...  Someone was missing.

An important player in the scene.

Darn it!  Baby Jesus is gone!

Now I need to find a substitute for the big guy.

I guess that you get what you pay for. 

Maybe for next year I should invest in a complete nativity set.

As Heard In the Back Seat

For the latest installment of: "As Heard in the Back Seat" I had to write it down at a stoplight on our way to the annual pre-school Christmas Program.

Crazy kids.

The biggest was with her nonna but the three littles were chatting it up, all in a row in the new silver bullet.  There's plenty of room for them to line up, side by side now.  Yay!

Say's Charlie to his big brother Carl, "Your chin has a belly button." 

He does have a cleft chin, which was WAY more noticeable when he was a chubby little baby.  And I've always worried about people saying he has a butt chin (don't let that give you any ideas...)

They both giggled over it.

Then, not to be out done, little miss Elsa chimed in,

"What if your face had a vagina."

Extra prayers were said when we were seated in the church.

On the plus side, little Miss Elsa wore a skirt and ruffled pink cardigan sweater tonight and didn't hide herself.

Vagina comment aside, tonight was a major victory in my book!

Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day

Even parents have days like that.

Yesterday was mine.

If there was any day I could use a do-over button, it would have been yesterday.

I suppose we all make mistakes.

And most of us (if we're realistic) feel like the worst parents on the face of the earth at some point during our parenthood.

That was me yesterday.

Thankfully, the day of disappointments ended.

It felt like it took an eternity and packed in some whopper mistakes.

But it's over and today was FAR better.

One foot in front of the other.

One step at a time.

Deep breaths.

The things I try to remind myself of when days feel impossible, overwhelming, and horrible.

It was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day. 

Even here in Olympia.

Thank God it's behind me.

Thai Recipes

I'd hardly call these authentic.

But since moving out to the country, I have been able to master making my own pizza (much healthier versions), my Mexican is decent.  But I still crave Thai and up until now I have had the hardest time creating good Thai flavor.

To run into town to pick it up is just plain silly- it takes an eternity and is cold by the time I get it home.

And dragging the whole fan-damily into town for dinner isn't an option.

Soooo.

I'm sharing my recipes that I turn to for a decent Thai flavor.

Enjoy!

Thai Barbecued Pork

Serves 4/30 Minutes

From November 2011 Sunset Mag

From a woman in Olympia!  Karen Fukui

 

1 stalk fresh lemongrass, stem and coarse leaves trimmed, cut into chunks

1 Tbsp sugar

2 Tbsp reduced-sodium soy sauce (I use Kikoman Tamari)

1 Tbsp fish sauce (I bought lucky brand at the Asian store)

1 quarter sized slice fresh ginger

1/4 tsp pepper

a few cilantro sprigs plus more for garnish

1 Tbsp Thai red curry paste

2 cloves garlic

2 Tbsp canola oil

1 lb port tenderloin, cut into 1/2 inch slices (I used the pork roasts from Costco and sliced it while it was still firm when defrosting)

 

1. Heat grill to high (450 to 550 degrees).  In a food processor, pulse all ingredients except pork into a paste, adding a bit of water if needed.  (I did).  In a medium bowl (I used Ziploc baggie) mix pork with paste.  Let sit 15 minutes (I did overnight).

2. Grill pork turning once, until browned, about 6 minutes total.  Serve with rice, vegetables, and cilantro leaves.

 

I put over Asian salad for lunch.  Would be yummy with lime cilantro rice like from that yummy Mexican place at the mall (it's late and my mind is gone).  Also, I used my Cuisinart grill/panini press set between hot and sear.

 

And this delightful dish from my friend Robin.

 

And peanut sauce from a blog I can't talk enough about  http://cookwithwhatyouhave.com/tag/peanut-sauce/ (she was a sorority sister and had the coolest ever Watson Fellowship).

Buon Appetito

Tomboys

I took my girly girl for granted.

I assumed all little girls loved tights and skirts.  Pink and purple and sparkles.

That was until Miss Elsa came along.

I see her playing with superheros more than anything else.

God forbid you tell her she looks pretty,

or cute,

or adorable.

She prefers awesome,

or cool.

She was discussing colors with her Nonna the other day.

I wish I could have captured the look on her face when she said, "pink" and "purple."

It was like she'd just thrown up in her mouth.

(Her preference was black and red).

The other day she even went so far as to say that she wanted to trade her vagina for a penis.

Oh lord, the Freudians would have a heyday with that one.

Talk about penis envy.

I guess to her, it must be way cooler than a vagina.

Her brothers get to stand up and pee.

Theirs wiggle when they jump (our bath times are pretty open...)

Whatever.

But today I was delighted when I saw her walk up to a friend's arrangement of Christmas ornaments in a hurricane lantern.

She called it...

"pretty."

That's a word I never thought I'd hear out of her mouth, spoken with reverence.

Ever.

Then tonight she stunned me by playing baby dolls with her sister!

She had her baby in a baby backpack, carting him everywhere.

Of course she was looking everywhere for a boy baby (which we do not have) but she settled for a frilly, pink girl.

It's the little things that cheer this mama's heart.

I have a tiny glimmer of hope that my little tomboy,

who prefers her brothers' and cousin's hand-me-downs to anything else,

who would wear tighty whiteys if I let her,

who wants to be called cool and awesome over pretty,

who plays with action figures,

and runs more like a boy than most boys her age

might one day style her hair and put on a dress of her own accord.

Maybe even one day she'll let me call her pretty.

Which she is, even in "I do my own stunts", batman, and firefighter t-shirts.

Even if she doesn't, she's still a special little person.  And I'll love her just the same.

Look out world, our little Elsa Jane is going to blaze a spectacular path, full of surprises.

Pinterest

Darn that pinterest.com.

It's sucking my every last second of spare (and not so spare) time.

It's ADDICTING!

So many creative people out there.

So many people with such great eye for beauty.

Tempting recipes,

crafts,

quotes.

You name it, they've got it.

And, I'll admit, more smut than I expected.

I need to tame this addiction (not because of the smut you dirty minded folks- because of the wasted time)  Sheesh!

Twirling Hair

I remember when I was dating Mark (ages and ages ago).

We were in his old house, hanging out talking, when his mom came into the kitchen.

I remember watching him mindlessly twirl her ponytail, thinking:

a) it was cute that she, an old woman {sorry nonna but perspective here- I was 17 at the time} still had a ponytail and

b) that Mark did it without realizing what he was doing.

Fast forward a million years.

Tonight I was laying in Carl's bed with him on one side and Charlie on the other reading bedtime stories.

For some silly reason they both picked up locks of my hair and sat there twirling while I read to them.

Made my heart go pitter patter.

And I'll admit I was thinking, "please don't let those locks fall out in their little hands..."

Gross Confession

I have an odd belief... that eating boogers is innate survival instinct. 

Why else would every single child on earth have this disgusting habit?

I'm sure I did it when I was a kid.

I've witnessed each of my four kids doing it.

And yesterday, walking through the parking lot with one of my children, I noticed a little dangler from that child's nose.  I didn't say anything, since I didn't have a tissue to use to correct the situation.

Next time I glanced down at this child I saw the booger getting picked (it was a good one too).  Knowing that I had no tissue, and not wanting to wipe it on me (which I HAVE done in the past- the inside of the bottom of many of my pants has been a secret kid booger spot for years), I just watched the scenario play out.

Pick.

Examine.

Then into the mouth.

I'll admit as soon as I saw it get close to the mouth I had to look away.

My gag reflex is pretty strong.

Elsa Reads Jungle Book

Tonight, as much as it was driving me CRAZY that she would NOT go to SLEEP (!) it was awfully adorable that Elsa read her Jungle Book story to me as only a 3 and a half year old with a chapped little face can.

I know Grandpa Watson would have loved singing the Jungle Book songs with her.

Since I can't get the video to embed into my blog (maybe because it was needs to be rotated- I keep forgetting that for videos you can't turn the camera) but here's a private link to YouTube.com where it's posted.

Enjoy:)

Laundry 2

How can there possibly be ANYTHING left in dresser drawers or hanging in closets?

That's a king size bed under there that I have to dig out from under all that clean laundry.

Before I get to crawl into it.

And miles to go before I sleep...

No, I'm not whining- I'm venting.

Sweet dreams all you lucky ducks caught up on the laundry monster.

And yes, that is my safety vest from my days of working for Baugh Construction.  Not sure where my hard hat ended up but that baby was in a secret compartment of the now departed Pacifica.  Wonder where the vest should end up next.  Dress up box?

Cars

I'm not a big car girl.

I want something practical, comfortable, that looks decent.

Maybe if I could pick ANY car it would be something cool like a vintage Mercedes (with functional a/c and heat:).

But in my life I've had 4 cars, well 5 if you count the truck.

The SR5, a crazy little Toyota that was both Tercel and Corolla hatchback.  It was poo brown with brown plaid interiors.  I bought it with money earned in one summer babysitting for a neighborhood family. 

My brother-in-law Kirk took me shopping for it and while it wasn't pretty, the price was right and it was a great buy. 

I bought it with 60,000 miles on it for $1,200.  I drove that thing from the beginning of my junior year in high school through graduate school and put over 100,000 miles on that thing. 

I fit my cheer squad in there one crazy night (we barely made it up Black Lake hill). 

And I drove many, many, many miles between Walla Walla and Wenatchee, then Walla Walla and Olympia, then Eugene to Olympia to see my hot stuff boyfriend (now my husband).  That brown plaid interior heard a whole lot of Indigo Girls.

My brother-in-law maintained it for me- adjusting the clutch and other minor repairs. 

It was a great car and I traded it in for $1,200 for the "Honda Car" which evolved to Mark's "commuter car" now our second vehicle.  Due for a good scrubbing and couple maintenance items...

When Mark was hired with the fire department, he waited until his probation was over then bought his brand spanking new Ford F350 pick up.  Poor guy had been driving his cool looking Bronco (which leaked when it rained and he was constantly replacing cotter pins.. for what I don't recall- brakes maybe?) then my dad's beater truck with a big old cattle rack on the back.  He was due for a comfortable vehicle and that one was good to us.

We brought our first two babies home from the hospital in it.

It was instrumental in building two houses and a pole barn.

It was key to many family camping trips and boating adventures.

And my first brand new car was a Pacifica (gag).  It was practical and had enough seat belts to fit each member of our family.  It looked too much like a mini-van for me (which I SWORE I would never have- even though I admit it would be practical).

That vehicle also brought two babies home from the hospital.  AND it also saw the most vomit of any car in our family.  Gross!  I even found remnants while scrubbing it down to trade in...  Ewwwww!

Now both Pacifica and the truck are gone.

We're entering a new era of vehicles for our family.  Also practical, though I cringe a bit- in a time when I'm trying to be more environmental (trying not to use Ziploc baggies, less paper towels, no more paper napkins, far less paper places and plastic cutlery) but the fuel consumption is supposed to be similar to the Pacifica, so we're not worse in that sense...

The Silver Bullet (a sweet friend nicknamed it already).

It's big. 

Which I hope will accommodate the 4 pairs of legs that are only going to grow longer.

And provide space for 2 friends.

And the stuff for trips.

And yippee no more setting up the goddamn dvd players on long road trips!  Hallelujah!  4 stinking dvd players and 4 little souls wanting to change it up entirely too often = parents needing a good rest after a long road trip.

This guy has one built in screen in the roof and we're toying with adding screens built in the headrests.

Either way it HAS to be better than the old system.

Plus, I can run to Costco with all 4 kids and have room for the purchases!

I'm not sorry to see the Pacifica go- it's good bye and good riddance.

But I'm sad to see the truck go.   

Silly to be sentimental about cars.  But I guess I am (heck, I don't turn them over very often).

Here's to a new era of an active family and our new vehicle.  May it perform well, tow the travel trailer nicely, and escort us to many fun family adventures!

And if you see me trying to park it, steer clear!  Thank goodness for the backup camera on this tank!

That Time of Year Again

Brrrrrrr...

Triple brrrrr.

We really try not to use our furnace to heat the house so it's a whopping 60 degrees in this place while I not-so-patiently await the fire to get hot enough to start warming the house up.

I'm really not very patient.

As I stand here in my coat, scarf and wool slippers, nose dripping because it's so FREAKING COLD!

But the heat of a wood fire is so nice, I guess it's worth it.

And soon enough I'll be sipping on a hot toddy.  Well, not soon enough for me.  But I know that when I do get it later this afternoon it'll warm me right up!  Recipe to follow...

The funny thing about wood fires is how many different times it warms you up (according to my mom).

The first time stacking it.

Next, hauling it up to the house (I added that part- hoisting a wagon full of wood up the back porch steps is not for sissies).

Finally, when it's burning.

Yay for good old fashion warmth.

Now, if only I could get excited about the winter cracked hands.  Man do they come on quick and ouch how they sting!  Maybe I should invest in some good rubber gloves...  It just seems like such a cumbersome process to put them on

and take them off

and put them on

and take them off

every time I wash dishes (which is like a million times a day).

But I have apples and red hots waiting their turn in the oven, the fan has kicked on in the fireplace, and friends from out of town are coming over. 

Should be a good afternoon.
Blueberry Tea
Orange Pekoe or Earl Gray Tea
1 oz Grand Marnier*
1 oz Amaretto

Put in a tea cup and call it tea.  Can't wait to pull out the pretty tea cups and try it for the first time today.  Rumor has it it makes playdates just a little more fun;)

*While the above recipe is delicious, maybe in that potency it should be reserved for after bedtime...  If I were to do it again, I'd reduce the amount to 1/2 ounce each Grand Marnier and Amaretto.  Might leave mama a little more functional for the remainder of the day:)

Lining Our Hearth

Can't you just smell the testosterone?

Set up in front of the fire: three pairs of Romeos + one soon to be European mount = clear sign there are boys around.

I know this is a sign of the future...

Except the two little pairs will grow, and grow, and grow.

And that should be the end of the hunting posts... 

I think.

For now.

I Never Would Have Believed It

Warning: If you love Bambi, maybe you shouldn't read this blog.

While I'm not a huge animal lover (example: I like to watch dogs but not so crazy about petting them and the smelly hands after I have petted them or any other critter) I've always felt defensive of them.

Zoos really aren't my idea of a good time. 

There's something so depressing to me about these majestic creatures plunked into artificial habitats so that we crazy people can walk about and gawk at them from the free side of a big old electric fence or tall, tall sheets of shatterproof glass. 

Often the crazy people are stuffing their faces with junk food. 

So weird to me.

I also used to give my brother-in-law a hard time about going out and killing Bambi.  It was unfathomable to me that anyone would choose to spend their free time tracking down these beautiful creatures only to kill them.  It seemed to be such an egotistical and twisted kind of thing to want to do. 

And then to eat it?! 

Yuck!

But, the romantic in me started to look at it as a family tradition handed down, father to son to grandson.  I liked the idea of the masculine camaraderie and something that human beings have participated in since they learned to carve spears. 

I was supportive of my husband starting to hunt.  I love that his dad hunted with his grandpa and uncles every year and that they all looked forward to that time together.  I thought it would be great for Mark to have that time with his dad and uncles (and friends too).  And our boys too, one day.

And then I started to look at our grocery bills for our family with 4 small children. 

I started to get nervous about watching them grow

and keeping them full

while not breaking the bank.

Which leads me to a day that I never- in a million years- would have predicted, even just 6 years ago...

Today our freezer contains this...

(the clear wrapping is pork shoulder for Mark's famous smoked beans- not venison)

And there's a whole lot of summer sausage and hot dogs on the way...

Not only am I excited about the meat, but I'm also looking forward to the European mounted antlers.

Who have I become?!

A practical woman with 6 mouths to feed- one of those mouths will moderately partake of the venison, while the others can't get enough of it.

I've never seen the kids keep coming back for more as they did with the venison tenderloin we prepared the other night.

It's natural.

I know the animal lived a good life.

No hormones fed to it. 

It wasn't stuffed on a feedlot.

It's the circle of life, we honor that, nothing is wasted.

And I'll admit, I'm curious about this famous "back strap" that's supposed to be so good...

My lesson? 

Never say never. 

You just can't predict all your future circumstances.

K-8 on a bus

When our oldest started kindergarten, I was nervous about her sitting on a school bus where she was thrown in with middle schoolers.

But I was reassured that she would be sitting near the front and the big kids would be in the back.

And her bus ride was 10 minutes max each way.

So, I let it slip from my worry radar.

But today it zipped back into my worry radar.

Sweet 7 year old Carl (who is rapidly turning into a big boy) came home singing "Dick in a box."*

I had to ask him to repeat his new song so that I could be sure what he'd just sung.

Then I tried to casually ask him where he'd heard that song.

He said some of the big boys on the bus were singing it.

WHAT?!

I asked him if he knew what a "dick" was.

He didn't.

Phew.

I explained it was another word for a penis.

He was shocked.

But I think he was also a little pleased to know a dirty song.

Oh boy.

I know they all learn it somewhere.

I just wonder how long it will take until 3 year old Miss Elsa Jane starts singing along too...

Thanks a lot, big boys on the school bus...

* For those of you who don't know about this lovely little ditty (mom) here's a link to the Saturday Night Live skit...

"Don't Do That" says Miss Elsa Jane

Every night when I put Elsa down to bed I read her stories, then lay with her for a minute or two, then go sit in her rocking chair while she goes to sleep.

The other night she told me not to, "do that." 

I asked her what "that" was.

She put her little hand over my mouth and nose then breathed in a super loud and exaggerated way through her nose several times.

Jeez.

Not allowed to breathe in her bed.

Maybe Little Miss Big Shot should put herself to bed.

And stay in her bed, by herself, ALL NIGHT LONG while she's at it!

I love the innocent truth of little people.

I tried to soften my breathing.

Who knew I was a loud nose breather?!

Ouch.

Truth hurts.

Sweet dreams sweet pea.

ps this morning she was gagging when i buckled her into her carseat.  when i asked why she told me my breath smelled like bananas.  is that so bad?!

To the Ladies in the Locker Room Part: 2

Seriously.

Why do people have to be so gross?!

It's absolutely crazy to me that this is even occurring!

To the ladies in the locker room:

We've covered that it's NOT ok to blow your nose in the shower.  It's gross and we all hear you do it. 

And we all flinch when you do because we remember that one day we forgot our flip flops for the shower and braved it barefooted. 

You make that nasty!

Now, another reminder...

It is NOT ok to hock a loogie either*.

Again, we all hear you do it.

We all flinch when you do.

It's DISGUSTING!

Just follow the golden rule ladies and we'll all get along fine.

*Funny I had to google the term "hock a loogie" to make sure I spelled it correctly.  Nailed it on the first try, I'm proud to say...

Lord of the Flies

You want to know my reward for limiting screen time?

I'm trying to be a good mama.

I'm trying to encourage those little buggers to move their little bodies

and use their noggins.

Somehow, my reward has transported me to the land of the Lord of the Flies.

Don't believe me?

How about this soundbite to illustrate?

OK, I give up.  I can't figure out how to translate the file I used to record the madness (from the microphone on my iphone) into something I can post.  If you can figure out how to make the link above play, then enjoy.  But you may want ear plugs...  If not.  SORRY.  I'm not smart enough to figure this technical mumbo jumbo out.
Anyway, the racket sure does make it tough to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, let alone trying to clean up dinner and start getting ready for the great bedtime battle for this mama home with 4 kids age 9 and under...

So, if you drive by and hear the screams...

don't be alarmed. 

Just another day in paradise.

-----
And just for fun, I tried this recipe out tonight.  It was delicious!  I haven't been a big fan of tofu since the day they tricked us into trying plain cold nasty tofu at McLane Elementary when we were doing some big sister city celebrating.  Shudder.  That was disgusting.  But this made it yummy to me.  It was simple, yummy, and nutritious too!

Black Pepper Tofu & Green Beans

serves 4/30 min

(Sunset Mag Sept 2011)

1 lb green beans, trimmed & halved

2 T lime juice

2 T reduced-sodium soy sauce

1 t pepper

14 oz firm tofu, drained & patted dry

2 T canola oil

1 T packed brown sugar

1/2 cup sliced shallots (I didn't have any so I used red onion- still yummy)

1. Bring a medium pot of water to a boil, add green beans and cook until bright green.  Drain and rinse well with cold water.  In a small bowl combine the lime juice, soy sauce and pepper then set aside.

1. Cut tofu into 1/2 inch rectangles.  Heat oil in large non-stick skillet over medium high heat.  Add tofu, sprinkle with sugar, and cook turning occasionally until evenly browned.  Stir in shallots/onion and cook until browned.  Add green beans and cook until warmed.  Pour in soy sauce mixture and toss to coat.

To The Ladies in The Locker Room

You know who you are.

You nose-blowers-in-the-shower.

Yes, we CAN hear you.

Yes, it is DISGUSTING.

While you might do that in the privacy of your own home,

NO- it is NOT ok at the gym.

Please, please stop blowing your nose in the public showers.

No one wants to forget their shower flip-flops and have to step on your slimy snot.

Thanks for listening.

Now change your behavior.

Your fellow locker room users appreciate it.

Latest: Overheard in the Back Seat

And now, for the latest edition of...  Overheard in the Back Seat

Scene:  Carl and Charlie in the very back seat of the Pacifica.  (That was for you Jay)

Charlie is proudly practicing his newest skill...

The Fake Burp.

Charlie (in a very earnest little voice): "Carl we could have a talent show.  You could armpit fart.  I'll fake burp."

I'm one proud mama.

Now for scene two...  Overheard at the Breakfast Bar.

Scene:  Elsa and Charlie easing their lunch.

Elsa with her toughest voice:  "Today at school, when I was on a bear hunt, I caught the bear and kicked him in the balls.  Then I squeezeded his eye."

Awesome.

That's my baby girl?!

Once again, proud mama.

A Little Sad, A Little Glad

This crib has a story.

When Sarina was just a baby Mark and I took her to stay in a vacation rental with his family on Hood Canal.  Since I was working full time, he was the lucky duck who got to pack for the trip and I met them up there after work.

Unfortunately, he overlooked the pack n' play (who hasn't done that a time or two...?). 

So, we were resourceful.

She was still so little,

and his grandma gave us the idea (she's the baby of a lot of kids)-

so we made a little bed for her in a dresser drawer laid next to our bed.

Well, word got back to Mark's other grandma (grandpa's wife #2) and she promptly took matters into her own hands and a few days later we had a delivery on our front porch. 

A brand spanking new crib! 

No granddaughter of hers was going to be left sleeping in a dresser drawer.

Miscommunication cleared and all, we had a beautiful Jenny Lind crib for our babies.

That crib was moved many, many times through the years and each of our babies slept in it.

Sadly, I was a bit lazy in moving it one too many times and angling it through doorways with three sides put together cracked the post so it can't go to a new home.  But we sure did use the heck out of this one.

I reflected on each of the moves- Carlyon, Thomas, Oyster Bay as I took it apart today.

Now, almost 10 years later, it's ready for it's final voyage.

I still think you're pretty and am sad to see you go.

Thank you special crib for holding our babies as they slept (the few hours each slept in their own beds).

And now, I'm ready for the chapter in our lives when everyone stays in their beds.

All night.

Until morning comes.

The End.

And amen (crossing myself).

Big Brother

This morning after I'd shipped the big kids to my awesome neighbor's house to catch the bus, I was driving Charlie and Elsa in to take Charlie to pre-school.

I heard Elsa ask, "Charlie, will you always be there for me?"  honest to God, those were her words- crazy, I know!

I was so smitten, I told Charlie of course he would always be there for her, he's her big brother.  (I know, I should have just listened and let him answer on his own without butting in with my big mouth).

But the kicker was his response to me.

"No mom, I'm not her big brother.  Carl is."

Sorry buddy, can't shirk those duties.  He's got an adorable little spitfire sister that's going to need both her big brother's to watch over her and always be there for her.

She is one lucky girl.

And they are awesome big brothers.

Not to leave her out, Sarina's a wonderful big sister too.

This was a year ago, but still cute of the two of them.

Zip Lines

It's time for another confession.

I know, will it ever end?  My answer is probably not.  Sorry:)  If you're reading this then for some odd reason, you're subjecting yourself to knowing more about me...

I've always loved trying scary things.

When I was younger I dreamed of parachuting out of an airplane,

of bungee jumping off a tall bridge,

of whizzing through the air, above tree tops, on a zip line.

I loved carnival rides that made me dizzy,

that dropped the floor beneath my feet so I was held to the wall of the ride by centrifugal force,

that jostled me this way and that, upside down then snapped right side up.

The unexpected twists and turns delighted me.

I even stood on the balustrade of the viewing balcony at the top of the capitol dome- what a big dummy!  Poor Mark's hands were INSTANTLY sweaty, but I don't recall being particularly scared.

Then, I had babies and it became more than sweaty palms and a racing heart,

it became, "what if something breaks?!"

I'm not a gambler and those are unnecessary risks in my book.

At least, that's the way I see it now.

But, I'll say that I still really, really want to whizz above treetops on a zip line one day.  I hear there's an awesome place in Oregon where you can do it.

Who knows, maybe I should have been a monkey getting to see the skyline from way up high, swinging from tree branch to tree branch.

Recently, my town upgraded the play equipment at a park that's been around forever (it's where I learned how to ride a bike).

And it's awesome!

If I hadn't been wearing a skirt,

and there weren't a million people milling about,

I would have elbowed my way to the front of the line and hopped on myself.

But don't worry, I'm saving that adventure for a weekday when there's a far smaller crowd.  Maybe I'll try and do it when I have some grown up friends with me, so that if I do break my neck they can call for help...

But oh the joy!

Here are my babies trying it out, those lucky ducks!

Sarina having a go at it.  Mandy is right, she really does belong in a shampoo commercial they way her hair is so glossy and bounces all around.

And Carl really worked out the technique of it all, he even held on when he wasn't able to get his buns up on that seat.  I wish that it was clear enough to see his huge grin the whole way down the line.

Charlie bounces almost all the way back to the starting line, and loves every last bounce of the ride.

Now, for the heart stopper...

This little monkey held on for dear life.  You can hear the panic in my voice when she was finally on the ground. 

She came flying at me so fast I didn't realize that I was still recording... 

It took forever for my heart to stop racing.  Not the kind of racing I like anymore...

The first time I let her ride it all the way out she wasn't holding on quite so tight and flew, yes flew, off.  Carl said she did a flip on her dismount, I think it was more of a lay-out.  It was impressive.  Knocked the wind out of her.  I held her until she got her breath back and wasn't crying.  Honestly, it wasn't 3 minutes before she declared, "I want to do it again!"

Holy cow, look out world.  My scrappy little Elsa Jane is coming through and she's not stopping for a second.  Lord knows what this little dynamo is going to do in her lifetime.  I guarantee it's going to be a good show...

That Silly Street Name

The sharts just keep on coming,

and coming,

and coming.

Gross.

Ohio Surprise

Last week I was lucky enough to be in on a big surprise for my brother.

He joined the Air Force fresh out of high school and has come such a long way since his days in basic training.  He has run the gamut of responsibilities from loading bombs to working to as a paralegal to investigating air force crashes to determine the cause. 

This year he will retire after 24 years serving our country, leaving as a Master Sargent.

I'm so proud of him and all his accomplishments.

To celebrate, my sister-in-law, mom, and niece worked to pull together a surprise retirement party for him. 

First my mom flew out, then my sister and I joined the group- she pointed out that when "the aunts" come to visit they're usually crazy old ladies with cats who live together, we certainly don't fit that description... 

We're still called "the girls."  Apparently, when I'm accompanied by my husband and children I have a name but when it's me and my little sister we're just "the girls" at least it's no longer "the little girls."

I shared a bed with my niece, and I'll confess with you that I told her that I hoped that I didn't fart or snore.  She sweetly replied, "I hope you do."  Love family.

Next to arrive was a friend from the years they lived in Texas.

Then our other sister with her daughter and her boyfriend.

And on the day of the party people arrived in waves from the past.  One friend who was based near my brother while they served in England and Germany.  Friends who had also retired and moved on.  He had friends from all over the place coming to see him.

And that's such a fantastic feeling, to look around a house filled with people who have come from far and wide just to see you. 

And celebrate you. 

And let you know how important you are to them.

I'm so happy that I got to be a witness to it.

You've certainly earned it big brother.

While we were there we drove around, he showed us Cincinnati (WKRP theme song played in my head as we drove through the city).  It is full of buildings that would be fun to explore one day.  That city's architecture certainly tells a story of the fantastic ups and heart wrenching downs of it's economy.

We even drove into Kentucky (actually were ferried over) on a tiny little ferry crossing the Ohio river into Augusta Ky where George Clooney spent a lot of time.  We perused the shops and overheard someone say that George's mom, Nina, has a shop in town.  My sister googled her on the drive home and found that we'd chatted with her in her shop.  She was a beautiful and sweet lady.

Now, I'll admit that I was a little off on my trip to Ohio.  I was so lonely for the squirming little bodies and one big body I'm used to having circle around me that I did not know what to do with myself.  I realize that I'm a person who has to have constant motion to feel like myself.  I'm not sure when that will subside.  But it makes me nervous for the day when my kids all move beyond the nest and I don't have them to keep me in motion until I drop...

And, really, what would be a post from me without a little grossness...?

My sister pointed out that we passed (repeatedly) a street sign in Ohio.  I'm sure it comes from a family who did great things for their community, but really?  What an unfortunate name!

Sharts.

Truly, it's not a fun action.  No one wants to have one... (Or is should I say do one..?)

Unfortunately, this morning, my poor Charlie bear got to experience one.

There's a bug in my house, we had two barfing in the night and one with a tummy ache this morning...

It's nice to be busy.

*** UPDATE There are three, repeat three, sharters in the house.  My money is on #4 making an appearance in the middle of the night...

Dr. Jekyll & Ms. Hyde

Some days I feel like that.

I'll be contentedly hanging out with the kids at the ....... (fill in the blank- lake, park, grocery store, etc) with the kids perfectly happy.  They're happy.  I'm happy. 

Then one of us gets grumpy and I turn into Ms. Hydel.

So weird.  I feel bi-polar when it all goes down.  Laughing and playing one minute then snarling in a voice I HATE to use the next. 

It's a total white trash, beat your kids voice- but often it's the only thing that gets their attention.  You can only say, "Get your shoes on, please" so many times before it turns into, "GET YOUR SHOES ON NOW OR .... (fill in the blank for the punishment- no ice cream, no park, no DS, no whatever) and sometimes the DAMN IT" comes out too.

I know it's not the best parenting.

I know it sounds horrible.

And I wish I had the tools to change.  I just haven't had the energy to figure out how, yet.

But today was a very nice day.

The we went to Ken Lake (again).  It was clear there are new water skills acquired over the summer.  Elsa is now half fish.  Sarina swam out to the floating dock without her life jacket multiple times.  The boys were hot on the tail of the "big, big, BIG" fish.

In this video you can see all 5 kids (we had an extra last night and today).  My very favorite thing is how Elsa swims to Charlie and he picks her up with so much love and devotion.  It fills this sometimes-white-trash-voiced mama with a whole lotta pride.

I also took the kids to watch our friend Sam play football.  It was so fun!  And a couple of times (in between potty runs...) I got goosebumps watching the boys play ball.  They looked like such big boys and played so very well.  I think I'm going to have to do it again! 

And not to jinx myself, I'll have to stop for McFlurries on the way- those treats kept the kids in one place for several minutes in a row.  Then the generous donation of popcorn bought a few more minutes...

And now, hold the presses, another new recipe!

I love pizza. 

And I love Trader Joe's pizza dough. 

I pull it out as thin as I can get it then put it in a hot electric skillet for a few minutes until it crisps then flip it and top with my toppings of the day.  Sometimes I'll make it with: peanut sauce, smoked Gouda, chicken, cilantro, peanut sauce, red onion, and red pepper flakes.  Sometimes it's just meat and cheese with prego spaghetti sauce.

Tonight it was fresh homemade real pesto (like translated from my Italian roommates recipe real), CSA fresh onion thinly sliced and sauteed in a drizzle of olive oil, salt and pepper, Trader Joe's amazing English Cheddar with caramelized onions, red pepper flakes (I like spicy food- can you tell?), CSA fresh real tomatoes, sprinkle of Parmesan, and fresh ground pepper.  That was my side of the pizza.  The kids had BBQ sauce, chicken and mozzarella (I held the cheese for Carl).  It was yummy and Charlie liked my side of the pizza best, yay Charlie!

Every Last Ounce of Sunshine

I know I'm running my kids ragged.

But I feel a desperate need to grab every last ounce of sunshine before the gloom of fall and winter hit.

Plus this is the first year that I feel like I can manage my crew outside the home front. 

No wanderers (at least not too far). 

No dirt eaters.

No one recklessly walking into the water without being able to swim or know what's going on around them.

It's been FREEDOM!!!

We've been down to Ken Lake- which is awesome for catching fish, the slide into the water and swim out to the floating dock with diving board.  It's where Elsa has learned her spectacular dive:

And for variety we've been whoring ourselves out to the Country Club pool every chance we get- which is awesome for the comfy lounge chair, food and drink service, lifeguard, and beautiful setting.

We even snuck into the Red Lion's outdoor pool (which the kids call the Lion Pool). 

 Photo is Day 2 of School (the bus was 6 minutes early on Day 1)

 How much longer will I be able to get them to do this?  I love it.

Today, the first weekend since school started, and we're planning to hit Ken Lake then off to a 3pm football game.

It's operation: Wear The Kids Out (I'm now on day 8 of single parenting while Mark is off {hopefully} getting an elk to keep these kids fed through the winter).

Maybe it will wear the kids out enough that they'll crash early and I can finally put some order to our "desk" area of the kitchen so that I can keep on top of the onslaught of papers coming from all 4 kids' school...

I know it's a futile hope.  Between the bills, the book drives, the map tests, the PTO sign up sheets, the chapel envelopes, the homework, the calendars and handbooks, the artwork, the to-do lists.  It all ends up a jumbled mess anyway.

Maybe I'll finally purge Sarina's closet & play nook. 

Maybe I'll purge the boys' closet & play nook...

I'm always full of plans just after my morning cup of coffee, it's caffeine induced optimism.

In reality, lately after I've FINALLY gotten all 4 kids peacefully slumbering away, it's all I can do to hold my head up.  I literally sit staring at a wall or screen physically unable to move but not wanting to miss out on the peace and quiet in my home with all little angels quietly tucked into bed.  So I sit there like a zombie for a while before stumbling into bed, later than I should.

But I'm hopeful that one of these days, I'll get my second wind and rally enough to accomplish a project or two from my post morning coffee list of optimism...

Now Carl, Charlie, and Elsa have consumed 2 breakfasts (a variety of combinations of cereal, pancakes, sausage, and oatmeal).  I think they're fueled up enough to carry them through what should be a fun, busy day.

And since I've been short of recipe posts, I have a new one for you.  It was way easier than I'd hoped it would be and turned out yummy for someone who didn't know how to prepare tomatillos let alone whip up a salsa verde.  It was the perfect combination of having smelled the delicious concoction at one of Sarina's friend's houses when picking her up from a playdate, and the super generous donation of an extra CSA box full of tomatillos, jalapenos, garlic, cilantro and other yummy fresh-from-the-garden-treats.

Roasted Tomatillo Salsa

Peel, rinse, and dry enough tomatillos to fill a large frying pan.

Heat a dry pan over medium high heat, add tomatillos and 2-3 jalapenos (depending on size and how spicy you like it) and roast until skins get black patches- shaking the pan every now and then to add different black spots (about 10 minutes or so).

In a food processor put one bunch of cilantro (check for little worms first:/), 3-5 garlic cloves (depending on size and how much you like garlic), the juice of 1/2 a lime and 1/2 a lemon, a tsp of sea salt and drizzle of honey (a little under a tsp- also depends on how you like it).

When tomatillos and jalapenos are nicely blackened, cut the stem off the jalapenos and dump into the processor and blend.

You can simmer it with a drizzle of olive oil if you like it warm or serve it cold.

I think it's yummy for dipping chips or taquitos, simmering chicken breast tenders or cubed pork for tacos, could be good for salad too.

enjoy:)

Another Bad Habit

I never gave it a second thought when I told my kids to stop getting so big,

to stay my babies,

to quit growing...

I always said it teasingly, thinking it would let them know how much I love them.

And this afternoon my wonderfully unafraid-to-correct friend informed me that I can't tell them that. 

It makes them feel badly about growing up,

getting bigger,

becoming mature little people.

I never once thought of it that way...

So, tonight I asked Sarina if it made her feel badly when I said that to her and she said... "yes."

Gulp.

I have a lot of making up to do.

Many, many, many "I'm proud of the young lady you're becoming"s and other such truths.

I am sad to see them grow out of toddlerhood but I also am very, very excited to see what wonderful people they will grow up to be, and I know that they will make me proud.

A Loss for My Neck of the Woods

My 92 year old neighbor passed away on Saturday.

I just learned about it today.

I don't know why, but I've felt a pull toward him ever since I learned about him.

Maybe it's because I know that he was a character.

Maybe it's because I know he built his house himself on the corner of a dirt road and a more busy road that later became Highway 101.  (Sound familiar?)

Maybe it's because his name is Carl (like Grandpa Carl and my Carl).

I have often wished that I could go back in time to meet him as a young man, living a life I imagine was somewhat similar to ours.

Building his own home.  Living on acreage.  Raising a family.

From what I hear, his garden was massive and he'd share with all the neighbors that passed by.

He used to grow Christmas trees on his adjacent property- many people still talk about getting their trees from him, "Oh, you live next to the old Christmas tree farm?"...

For some reason, he's been very present in my thoughts this past week.  Mark even told me this morning that he'd just had a dream about him.

I kept meaning to bring down some homemade ice cream with fresh picked blackberries, or cookies- but I didn't carve out the time.

Just today I was trying to figure out when I could squeeze in berry picking and a visit to tell him hello.

I'm sad that I didn't do it quickly enough.

He was a fortunate man. 

His daughter moved home to care for him so that he could live out his life in the house he built and raised his family in.

She was so good and careful to make sure that he had the things that were important to him and fed his soul.  She kept the wood stove going all winter and made sure he had a chance to work in his garden in the summer.

I often wish that I could have been able to do something similar for my dad.

This neck of the woods is short one good person now. 

I hope that his soul is fulfilled and he is reunited with many loved ones.

I know I've learned a good bit about generosity and neighborliness from him, and will carry it with me always.  That's my promise to you, Carl.

Chicken Eggs

Never in a million years would I have pictured myself as the type of woman who rubs chicken poo off of eggs with her bare hands so they are clean and ready to prepare for the family.

Ewww. 

But worth it.

(And yes, I do wash my hands thoroughly afterwards.)

Never A Good Sign

Yesterday I took the kids to the lake to swim and enjoy the last bit of summer.

Elsa had told me she needed to poop a few different times during the day and each opportunity to use a REAL toilet were brushed aside by little miss...

So when we were at the lake, and she zipped up to me with an almost panicked look on her face saying, "Mommy, I gotta poop."  I didn't poo poo her.

As we were walking to the porta-potty she informed me that she didn't poop her pants.

That's a funny thing to say, and really not a good sign...

I don't know how she thought I wouldn't  find out.  Maybe she was thinking that if she believed it then it would be true.

But I pulled down her swim suit and a big wet blob fell out.

EWWWWWW!!!

No running water

no soap

no back-up clothes...

Thankfully my mom had a container of wipes in her car (funny that she wasn't ever a girlscout- she's always prepared) and I cleaned up as best I could. 

After she was wiped down, the floor of the porta-potty wiped down, her swim suit rinsed out and back on, we hit the lake for a little more fun.

Just another situation where there's isn't enough hand sanitizer to feel clean again...

Rite of Passage...?

Saturday was Charlie's birthday.

I cannot believe that he is 5 years old, do I sound like a broken record?  I know I say that about every milestone, I just cannot believe how quickly time passes.

My Charlie Bear is one special little cookie.

Maybe it's being the third of four that helps make him so special. 

Because, really, the third of four kids are always pretty awesome (can you tell that's me?  His namesake - Grandpa Charlie- is also the third of four).

My Charlie's kind, generous, sensitive, and curious.  He's the kind of kid who gets so caught up in what he's doing that he doesn't notice the world around him.  He has that kind of focus and curiosity.  And I know that it will take him far in life.

I'll be honest, it was tricky to parent when parenting two older siblings and either pregnant or with a newborn/toddler- I don't know how many times at the park he'd run in a crow's shadow without regard for where he was running (straight into a parking lot). 

He was the one that slipped under the radar every now and then because of his birth order and my distractions...

One example: Father's Day when he was almost two we were grilling in our back yard and some man came walking down our driveway carrying him.  I was about to burst, pregnant with Elsa, and hadn't realized he'd slipped around the house and went to check out what was at the end of our driveway.  (It's a road that is a direct turn off of a highway!)  It took me a good hour to stop shaking and rattle all of the what-ifs out of my head.  I don't know what was more scary for me, that he ventured so close to such a busy road or that he was perfectly content in a stranger's arms.

But now that I don't have to keep SUCH a sharp eye on the kids, I get to enjoy my Charlie for who he is.

A sweet boy who loves everything about the world around him.

He happily slips outside in the morning and catches a swarm of grasshoppers or lady bugs.  He pounces on every worm unearthed when I weed.  He loves dinosaurs.  He loves animals.  And he loves his family with his whole generous heart.

We celebrated his birthday at the lake with the easiest birthday party I've ever hosted.  It was a perfect party for him.

Afterwards we attended an end of the summer bbq filled with kids, two water slides and a trampoline.

There was quite a crowd of boys playing on the trampoline, doing their little fighting matches that boys always seem to end up playing. 

Charlie was the youngest in there and for some reason (human nature, I know- and I don't harbor any ill will toward them) the boys decided they'd all focus their roughhousing on Charlie and it got a little out of hand.  He was pushed down one too many times and his arm was bent back a little too far and Charlie snapped.  My freshly 5 year old boy stood up and started punching a little boy (two years older and a good 10-15lbs heavier) until he gave the boy a bloody nose.

I saw him stand up and unleash his fury, and it was focused.

I was mortified that my baby did that to another kid, I really, really don't like violence.

But I was also a little proud that he was that good, that efficient, at standing up for himself.

I don't think that he'll get pushed around too much in life.  He'll be able to hold his own.  And I don't think he'll be a person who holds grudges.  He'll get it out of his system and move on.

It's a relief to know that Elsa will be well protected by her big brothers.

And it's a relief that Charlie is a person who can stand up for himself.  That attribute with his love for life and curiosity about the world around him will serve him well.  There's no holding my sweet little boxer back.

It was a big day, filled with friends and family, swimming, fish catching, cupcakes, birthday presents, sunshine and his first fist fight.

A rite of passage, quite a bit earlier than I'd like, but one he now has under his belt.

Don't mess with Charlie Bear.

Never Under the Radar

I always feel like when I'm out with the kids it's swirling chaos.

Yes, Mark's presence alone makes it WAY better.  The 1:2 ratio is so much more manageable than 1:4.

For some reason, the most memorable events (not memorable in a flattering way) happen when he's at work.

Here's an example...

Today I took the three youngest to REI hoping to find a pair of clearance crocs for each of the boys.  For some reason I recalled seeing a huge wall of crocs earlier in the summer and harbored hopes...

We manage to get the the entrance pretty smoothly, the kids were excited to see the door handles.  Whatever it takes, they were focused on crossing the parking lot and getting to the entrance.  That's a score in my book.

The second we walk in the alarm goes off.  "Unchecked Merchandise!"  Or some equally mortifying announcement over the loudspeaker.

The sweet greeter girl asked if I had a key with built in buttons to lock and unlock the car.  For some fun reason that tends to set off the alarm.

Awesome.

We take a detour through the bikes to see the bike Carl REALLY wants and unbelievably manage NOT to knock over every bike in the place.  Phew, one hazard avoided.

Unfortunately, I didn't fight Elsa when she refused to pull her arms out of her shirt.  I really didn't see any harm in her walking around with her arms tucked tightly around her torso.

Can you see where this is going?

We manage to make it to the top 4 steps on the way to the second floor (where the genius planners put the children's stuff) when Elsa stumbled and fell forward.

Of course, her arms were pinned to her sides- so she couldn't catch herself, and fell full force onto her little lip and front teeth.

Awesome.

She's screaming bloody murder. 

I'm trying to get the boys to keep up and glance up to see a grumpy older REI woman without an ounce of smile pointing to ask if Charlie's mine.  He's climbing the stairs up the stringer holding on to the handrail.  She seemed to back off when I said yes while holding the screaming 3 year old. 

Then I really look at Elsa and see her whole chin covered in blood. 

Darn lip wounds bleed A LOT. 

Mrs. Grumpy-pants was nice enough to run grab me paper towels- at my request- (because REI has hand dryers not paper towels- which I get, but wasn't the most convenient...).  Again Mrs. Grumpy-pants was without a trace of warmth.

I make it to the bathroom to try and spare the shoppers all the hooting and hollering.

Again with the, "Unchecked Merchandise!" because- of course,the key is still in my purse.

I ignore it and try to get her calmed down, which- of course, she's staring at herself in the mirror and makes her more freaked out.

So I think "f#*% it."  I came here for a reason!  And head out to see if they have any crocs left, darn it!

Elsa's still screaming. 

Charlie's pulling out shoes left and right. 

No crocs.

But they did have the hiking boots Carl's been pining for since he saw his first episode of Dino Dan.  I think the only reason he put up with Charlie's request for that dinosaur kids show was to stare at those boots and dream of owning a pair himself one day.

So, he and Charlie scored a pair of hiking boots (on clearance- yay!).

Elsa was still whimpering in my arms while we carry everything very, very carefully down the stairs to pay.

And our farewell was the clearly announced, "Unchecked Merchandise!"

It sounded more like an "Off With You!" than anything.

Fine.  Good bye cruel store.

Just a small illustration of how we are NEVER, EVER flying under the radar.  We make our entrance hooting and hollering in one way or another.

Look out, here comes that family...

Cross your fingers that Elsa isn't child #2 needing her front tooth wiggled out prematurely, due to traumatic injury...

Dance Party

It's 9am.  Do you know where your kids are?

I found mine.

And this is what the 3 little ones were doing...

We used to do dance party in the evenings when Mark was on shift.  I'd pop in a CD for the kids to dance to while I cleaned up dinner.  Sometimes I'd dance with them.

Somehow we stepped away from that tradition, I have no idea why.

But thanks to our AWESOME babysitter, the kids have a new wave of music from her music library and are re-energized.

Dance on! 

Dance party is BAAAACCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!

to the man at costco

Yes, they are all mine.

Yes, there are 4 of them.

Yes, they keep me busy.

Yes, I realize that two are without shoes and one without pants (but wearing a swimsuit bottom).

And yes, while I'm really trying not to be rude, I have to to catch the two shoeless children running through the store because for the FIRST TIME EVER (!) I had to unload them from the cart at check out.

Sweet Gifts

This morning I woke to a sweet little 3 year old voice singing, "Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun please shine down on me..."  I don't remember when I was summoned into her bed in the night, but that little serenade made up for sharing her twin bed for a portion of the night.  Warms my heart.

And the other day I was hanging out in the playroom with the kids when I heard the front door close.

I hadn't realized Mr. Stealth (Charlie) had ventured outside.

He came into the room with his hands clasped together tightly.

I'll admit, I sat up ready to spring depending on what was captive in those sweet little hands that explore everywhere.

I'm glad I didn't jump away because he opened them to reveal this...

He's a thoughtful little one that Charlie Bear.

Roots

I believe that I'm really a pretty lucky person in so many ways.

One of those ways is my childhood.

I grew up in an awesome neighborhood.

It had one entrance/exit, 4 parks (two on the lake, one bmx track, and one with baseball/football field and tennis courts), a lake to swim in, and lots of woods to explore (but were FILLED with porn.  Who were those dirty boys stashing those magazines under every log in the neighborhood?!  And why did my friends and I ALWAYS seem to find it?!).

As I recall, I'd leave home and play outside all day. 

Only coming home for meals then again at twilight.

Every kid had their own call to come home.  Mine was my dad's whistle.

Like a dog, I knew it from a pretty good distance.

And if I didn't zip home ASAP I was in BIG trouble.

I thought most of those feelings were nostalgia about the "old days."

But this summer we've started heading back to the parks a little more and more when we go visit my mom (who still lives in the same house- which I love).

Today I took the kids on a solo trip to the lake to swim, and it felt right.  Felt like home.  Felt like my childhood.

The boys had a fishing net my dad gave Mark ages ago (which I've flirted with throwing away after picking it up MANY MANY times). 

I'm glad I haven't thrown it away yet.

Instantly, there was a crowd of boys huddled together trying to catch any of the poor little fishies swimming around the dock.  It kept them entertained for 3 1/2 hours!

There's a slide the kids could zip down into the lake.

There's a floating dock with a diving board.

And my kids fearlessly (well 3 out of 4 were fearless) dove in and enjoyed all of the amenities with reckless abandon.

I sat on the grass watching them entertain themselves and looked over a lake that holds countless memories for me growing up.

It feels special to have such strong ties to the place where I grew up.

Roots are priceless.

If I Give Off Grumpy Vibes

To all who know me:

If you've crossed my path, and I happen to have a less than welcoming look on my face I can assure you that 99.9% of the time it's for one of the following reasons:

-I'm counting kids who may have scattered or are in a crowd
-I'm trying to work out kid or house logistics
-I'm tired
-I'm a terrible conversationalist and I'm trying to rack my brains for a little nugget for small talk.

It's not you.  It's me.  Promise.

Sincerely,
jen

Some People Never Learn...

I might have seen the warning signs, if I'd paid attention.

Ok, I did see the warning signs, but chose to ignore them.  Mind over matter, right?

Breakfast was ok.  I let the kids have straws in their cereal so slurp up the milk.

Silly Charlie blew a HUGE mound of milk bubbles, all over the breakfast bar.

Sarina didn't eat the pancakes she demanded I make.

She then proceeded to dirty more than the necessary dishes to make herself (and generously for her siblings) breakfast smoothies. 

Those lucky siblings then smeared that all over the breakfast bar.  At least the milk bubbles had company on there, right?

For some reason (that currently escapes me) I was a terribly mean mommy and Sarina was going to go live at the fire station.

She walked all the way to the end of the driveway and stood there for a while.

Then hauled out a large piece of cardboard from the barn, sat in the middle of the driveway, and mulled things over for a while.  Then put the cardboard back and came home. 

Must have been too far to walk.

I tried to dress the kids for church.

It was a special day- baptisms for two sweet kids whose families we love, and I said we'd be there.

Darn it we were going to be there!

Elsa would NOT put on her dress, that I pressed.

And if you know me, that NEVER happens (clarification: the pressing dresses part).

After much wrangling, and attempting, and bribing- and with my mom and aunt (?) watching- I caved and let her pick what she wanted to wear.

Fortunately, her "I heart Oly" shirt was dirty as were her "black shorts" (pajama bottoms) her latest go-to outfit.

She settled on her light pink sailor pants and a blue and white striped tunic (NO belt!).

Fine.

We load in the car, my mom and aunt (?) willing to wait in the Top Foods parking lot with the bunch so I could zip in to get baptism cards (nothing like last minute).

50 "Get in the car and buckle up!"s later we were ready to go.

No keys.

I looked all through my purse- once, twice... no dice.

I ran upstairs and looked in my shorts pockets.

Nope.

Back to the car to re-check my purse and cupholders.

Nah.

Inside- scour the countertop.

Nada.

Inform my mom and aunt (?) forget it.

Back to the car- "Mom, these keys?"  Carl's holding up my one and only car key.

And we were back on.

We ran our errand, made it to church in time.  Chit chatted the mother of a kid I went to pre-school with(!) and settled into the first pew that appeared to have enough room for us to squeeze into much closer to front and center than I would have preferred.  But once that train of kids heads one direction it takes a minor miracle to change course, plus the people sharing the pew are super nice:)  Except that our joining the pew bumped the poor dad out of a seat- so he sat up front by himself:(  I should have offered to trade places with him...

Several fun spiritual songs and a reading later it was sermon time.

The time that is so pleasant without kids but can be sheer torture with little ones fighting over the two pencil stubs within reach.  Or making armpit farts with the backs of their knees.  Or hanging out in the aisle trying to climb into the pew by way of the armrest.

Then comes a thoughtful friend trying to help out by swooping in and taking one of the kids to sit with them an aisle over.  Which was great.

Until Charlie was ready to come back to inflict a little more torture on mama...

but got lost...

RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE PULPIT!

The Pastor actually stopped his sermon for about 5 seconds while Charlie located us in the congregation and came back to us.

UGH!

But it was SO VERY WORTH IT!

I got to see two sweet, sweet kids stand up and knowingly make the choice to choose Jesus and live a Christian life.

I got to see an amazing little video of each one say why they were making their choice.

I got to see them wade into the water, get dunked, and come up sputtering.

And it brought tears to my eyes.

It was super, completely, and totally worth the slow torture of the sermon time to witness something so magical.

It was my first Baptist baptism.  And now I get the name.

It was spectacular.

I'm so proud of you Sam and Kelbe!  I know you both will do amazing things in your life, made possible by Him.

So- what's a little chaos spread around a poor unsuspecting church congregation (that isn't my home parish)?

Such a magical event when you let the chaos blur to background.

I'm so glad that I chose mind over matter.