Hoarders

I have 2. Hope and Grace. They don't only look just alike. They act a lot alike, too. They're both really sensitive... and extremely sentimental about things. Like every single twig of grass they see they want to keep. Grace asked me if she could keep the little mesh bag the oranges came in the other day. She asked me if she could keep the knot off a popped balloon. "It's special!" she says, all whiny and pleading - like it's a family heir loom or something. Puh-lease.

I swear these two will be on a show one day... a reality one with interventions for hoarders... where clutter and junk has taken over their whole lives. TLC's new Hoarders, Buried Alive or something.

For Hope, I gave her several of these little bins.



One for rocks, pine cones, sea shells and the like. One for Valentines cards and birthday cards and letters and any paper she feels holds some significance (which includes an old tic-tac-toe post it..."But it's the first time we played tic-tac-toe, momma!"). There's another basket for stuffed animals. The rule is the same rule we have for all the children's toy buckets (big blue laundry hampers)... It's up to you what you want to keep, but it has to all fit in there, level with the top (not heaped over), no stuffing. Think I'm mean, don't you? I have 6 kids, people. In a house that wasn't exactly made for 6 kids. The madness has to stop somewhere!

Ever so often Hope has to be reminded of the rule, and to clean out her bins. Cause they end up looking like this:


It prompts all kinds of tears and pleading and, "but so-&-so gave this one to me!" and so on and so on. It's like I'm literally peeling the actual skin off her body. It's that painful. Don't feel sorry for her... Really, the monkey with no eyes or tail and knotted fur kicked the bucket long ago. If it's REALLY special, I'll put it away in the cedar chest.

And now Grace is falling in Hope's footsteps. I find little piles all over the place of her "treasures". Like this one:



And when I said, "Take those back outside, darling, they don't belong in the kitchen." It was met with immediate tears and dramatic pleas, and, "But, Mom, just look at this one, it's so beautiful, I can't put it back outside!" while she shook it only one inch from my eyes (like I could really focus on it that close). She desperately wanted me to see that goofy rock was obviously worth keeping. Umm.. it wasn't smooth or granite or sparkly or any special shape. Really, just a plain old dirty rock.

And then there was this pile of papers on her bed:



I mean seriously... that's a craft wreath no one ever finished for a Christmas project, a sheet of Faith's science notes, and one of Hubby's pay stubs with a scribbled appointment date and address on the back. The meanie I am says, "Grace throw those away." And she retorts, "but that's Daddy's handwriting!". Like I'm the wicked witch of the west because I would even dare throw away something He had written on.

As hard as it is to either of them to part with any of their treasures, they are incredibly sweet and thoughtful when it comes to doing things for and especially giving things to other people. Like these darn weeds, er... ahem... I mean beautiful flowers. I was being funny. I really do think they are beautiful. For now. But Lord help us when they wilt and I throw them away.....

Hide and Seek

How many girls do you think can fit in this little space?



All 5 that are big enough to play hide and seek. Apparently. Of course, all the giggling gave them away. That, and all the loot that is normally hidden in there was on the bed. Not the smartest hide-ers ever. But they are the cutest!

Girls, Girls, Girls

A boy would just die here. Really. Kill right over.

After the kids so pleasantly and quickly, er..., um, ahem... so that wasn't exactly how it happened. Ok, after repeating myself way too many times and finally bribing, the kids completed their zones and the house looked amazing. Alright, so that's a stretch, too. It still looked rather lived in, but better than when we first got up! ;)

Stay with me, I'm getting somewhere. After chore time, I pulled another Christmas jewel from the middle girls' stack of treasures. They had been begging, and they quickly emptied the dress up bucket for the perfect ballet outfit. I popped their new instructional dance dvd in the player, and they lined up like little ducks across the living room. I sat behind them in my chair, snickering and snapping away. They were so cute I could have bit their little cheeks. Oh! So cute!

First they stretched just as the teacher and students were doing on the dvd.





Then, on to warming up and learning the names for a few moves. I didn't crop this one so that you could see the class on the tv, too.



Then, a real dance.



And last, but not least, Hope joined the class and Faith had to step in and do some instructing of her own. She's such a first born. Sorry about the cut-off heads. I was only bouncing a fussy baby in one hand, trying to hold the camera in the other, and wiping tears from my own eyes over all the sweetness of them holding hands in that previous picture.



And if their little tooshies wiggled any more i really would have to pinch them. Maybe I did.

I Don't Wear Panty Hose

Well, there was a funeral about 3 years ago....

But Grace is only 4, and I suppose she doesn't remember that one time. Grace needed to see the doctor, which I don't typically do very quickly with my born of the body babies. In fact, I have a reputation with my doctor. The born of the heart babies are rushed in for the simplest things. It's not favoritism, more like accountability. As a foster parent, I can't afford for something simple to become major, and be accused of not caring for them properly. My own children? Oh, they'll live. And that must really be in question if I'm taking one of them to see a doctor. Although I did recently take Hope for a wart the size of Mt. Rushmore even though I knew it wasn't life threatening. However, she had been hobbling for a few weeks because the thing was right smack in the middle of her tender little foot. My natural remedies seemed to only be encouraging more growth, so I gave in. I also took her in 3 weeks after swallowing a large metal ball when she set off a metal detector, too. I figured 3 weeks in was a little long. ;) Another post for another day....

Anyway, the real story is that Grace's throat looked horrible, and she had run fever for 3 days with no sign of improvement. So I hauled her with the rest of my crew to see Dr. S. Now Grace is used to seeing Dr. S, after all she delivered her and has cared for her since. Not only that, but between 6 kids, 2 newborns that needed often check-ups, and Grace thinks Dr. S is her best friend. We were only passing Dr. S. in the hall while she was working with SOMEONE ELSE when Grace started shouting her complaints. "My throat is sore, Dr. S., and my ears have cereal and boogers in them, and I have a ganglion cyst (which actually disappeared, but she still tells everyone she has one), and are YOU gonna take my throat out?" There was some laughing from doctor and nurses alike as I tried to shush her and explain she would get her time in a few minutes. I also told her that Dr. S. would not have to take her throat out, but the frog in there had to go, and if she didn't hush that I might ask her to take out the tongue as well. She replied that THAT was a "no good idea" because she needed her tongue to taste sucker she was sure to get as she left the office for being a good girl. Then she decided maybe it WAS a good idea after all because she couldn't taste broccoli or get in trouble for sticking her tongue out. And then I pulled my hair out because this kid can't stop talking!

Eventually Dr. S. stepped into our room and looked at Grace's throat and ears and the spot where the ganglion cyst used to be. She aims to please. ;) Then, she sat on her stool and began talking to me. I could see the inquisitive look on Grace's face, as she sat across the room from the Doctor, eyeing her legs. As the Doctor and I talked, she slowly, stealthily, creeped over beside the doctor. She then promptly sat down on the floor right beside her stool. I knew what she was about to do, but Dr. was still talking, and well, it's rude to interrupt. Sure enough Grace's hand slowly reached for Dr. S's leg. You see, she had on panty hose. Grace had quit looking at her leg, and was watching Dr. S's face intently as she carefully, slowly reached forward and touched her leg. Grace then proceeded to rub her little hand up and down Dr. S's calf, which I'm sure was silky smooth and a nice feel to this little 4 year old's mind. I honestly can't tell you Dr. S's initial response, I was too busy trying resist the uncontrollable urge to bust into a fit of laughter and keep my composure. Doctor did eventually look down at Grace, right about the time she quit innocently rubbing her leg, and proceeded to actually pinch the panty hose, pull them away from Dr. S's leg, and then let go. They snapped back into place, and Grace was delighted. "What ARE those?" she said, wide-eyed and full of wonder. Completely unaware she was being ever-so-inappropriate, and extremely excited about this new find, her eyes and face said it all. She would definitely need to ask Santa for a pair of those! I'm so thankful our doctor is also a mother herself. She was only amused and did not press any kind of charges for sexual harassment.

And sure enough, in the van on the way home, she piped up, "Mom, why don't you wear those nice things?" Because they wouldn't look right under my jeans, darling. Cleaning poopie diapers and mixing juice cups and refereeing fights over puzzle pieces just doesn't fit with panty hose wearing outfits. The time will come..... and then I"ll miss these days.

11 Years Ago

I became a mother. I had been warned of how my little one would not look pretty right off. About how nasty babies are at birth, their faces flat, heads coned, red and just not very pretty. I was a teenager, excited about being "mom" but scared to death as well. Tons of family eagerly awaited her arrival outside my hospital room. I had spent 9 months crawling around on my hands and knees. I lost weight... something my 100 pound frame didn't tolerate very well. I honestly can't remember what weight I got down to, I think it was 90 pounds. I was so young and dumb that I thought I was pregnant, and just supposed to be sick, so I let it go day in and day out without holding a thing down. When I couldn't get myself out of the tub one day, my husband helped me out, literally dressed me and carried me down to the car. Upon arrival at the doctor's office, they promptly sent me over to the hospital and declared I couldn't leave until I was at an acceptable weight. Lovely, huh?

The day she was born all I could think was how amazingly beautiful she was. Those silly people who said newborns were less than pleasing to look at hadn't seen MY baby! She came into the world complaining about the competency of the nursing staff, demanding better service, and certain her parents couldn't be meant for her. After all, we were babies ourselves, how could we possibly give accurate care to a princess such has herself?

Not much has changed. ;) She's still opinionated and not much can be said to persuade her otherwise. She often instructs me on how the younger ones should be cared for, and I'm constantly reminding her that she made it this far without dying, that Dad and I are perfectly capable of caring for them, and might even know what's best! She was an amazing little girl, that I often took credit for. It wasn't until the 3rd or 4th child that I realized she was what she is in spite of me rather than because of me. That I really had very little to do with her incredible ability to discern, to choose her own path no matter what those around her are doing, to stand firm in her convictions, and care so deeply for those who are struggling. She's more grounded than even I give her credit for. She likes what she likes, hates what she doesn't, and there is very little gray. She's a rule follower, and has little tolerance for those who don't respect the rules or each other. She is mostly serious, but when she laughs that true, full, belly laugh, everyone around her does the same. She's witty, and her sense of humor is very different than our other children's. She's smart, oh so beautiful, already has a deep love for her Savior and a desire to share His love with others, and she is AMAZING with little toddlers and babies. Right now, she wants to work in hippotherapy when she grows up. She has ALWAYS loved horses, and children, and I think that would be an incredible opportunity for her to work with both. She has so much exposure to emotionally disturbed children, as well as those with developmental delays, and her care for them is far beyond her age. I'm not always sure that's a good thing, I want to make sure she's a little girl as long as she can be, but her talents and passions are becoming clearer and clearer with each passing year.

Though I certainly miss days of rocking, nursing, and singing to my sweet little angel, I look forward to sharing the rest of my life with her. I love this stage, too! She's not only my little girl, now, but we have "real" conversations, she's becoming less of me, and more of herself. And less of herself, and more of Jesus. Such an incredible life to be a part of! Happy Birthday, Faith.

Acorn Pumpkins

I know, it's a terrible picture. My good camera had a mishap with the ground more than a year ago. I cried. I still cry occasionally. My wonderful mother in law is sending it in to be fixed for my Christmas present this year. Oh, I can't wait! Till then, these blurry ones will just have to do. School has pretty much been out the window this week. But we at least were a little crafty today. It was such a beautiful, cool fall day, and we spent much of it outdoors. Well, once I talked myself into actually getting out of the bed, anyway. The newest addition still thinks night time is for playing, and day time for sleeping. If it were a born of the body baby, I'd probably be frustrated and cranky about that. Born of the heart babies are different....especially ones that I know might not be staying. They are not taken for granted. The once dread of having to get up at night suddenly becomes a privilege. It should be so with born of the body babies, too, but for some reason that isn't always as obvious with them. There's a sneak peek in one of the pictures, at least you can see how TINY she is!





Do you see that Blessing is painting her fingers more than the acorns? Oh, and she actually has her clothes on!!!!! ;)

Thanks

to all of you for being so interested and encouraging. I don't think I've ever been point blank told, "Do not blog pictures of your foster children." And I actually did post them for awhile. Till I got a site meter and realized how many people I did not know that were reading. At that point, I felt if safer to not put pictures, particularly close ups or their faces, just so ensure their privacy and their families' privacy. That's also why I use fake names for all the girls. I didn't want anyone to be able to google any name of our family members and pull up my blog. I know you'd love to see a good picture of my new little one. And I'd love nothing more than to show you just how beautiful her eyes are. Oh, those eyes!

But, for now, this will have to suffice. That's my 8 yr. old holding her. Can you tell how little she is? She's a grunter. Like I seriously would call her Miss Piggy for her bloggy name. But somehow, I can't justify that when all the other's are sweet names. She's still so teeny tiny to us. I know she's not at fragile as she seems, but I'm not nearly as laid back with her as I have been with the other babies. It's probably both her size and her preemie status that has my guard up. She did horribly last night!!!! Ack! I'm guessing there is no difference in night and day at the hospital, and so it will take her some time to learn that 1 to 4 is not time to party! ;)

She's here!

And she's beautiful.

And chocolate. (oh, how we wanted chocolate! ;)

And TEENY!!!!!!

The only thing I really know now, that I didn't before, is that she was born at 34 weeks. I don't even know how much she weighs now (or at birth), but I'm guessing a high 4 pounds or low 5. There was a time I was VERY good at guessing the weight of a baby by sight, but I haven't worked in labor and delivery for 4 years, now. The little girls were already in bed, but the oldest 2 are plum giddy and silly. We can't take our eyes off her!

Camp

For all of those wondering, we do not a baby girl yet. I did not get a confirmation call, however I wasn't holding my breath, either. Last time we received an infant for placement I was supposed to get a phone call first, too, but they just showed up at the door. So, I still have no idea whether she's coming or not. She was not scheduled to be discharged from the hospital until today, though, and the case worker had already said she would not be able to go and get her until later this afternoon/evening. So I may not know for some time, still.

On to more news. We will be traveling out of state for a week long camp by LeeAnn's Horses for Attachment!!!! I can not even begin to accurately articulate to you all this means for our family or how thrilled I am. First of all, we don't typically have a few thousand dollars laying around to fund such an adventure. I'm not usually one to talk money, but just so you understand what kind of miracle this is, you need to know that we have been living on $300 per week for several months. And we do have both a house payment and one car payment. So, the ability alone to go is miraculous. We home school, which allows my entire family to attend and be a part of the camp. This is not necessary, but recommended, and I'm excited that the siblings of our RADish will be having some time with and now adult sibling who completely understands what that position in such a family is like. The week will be full of training sessions for my husband and I as parents, trust building activities and games for our entire family, sessions/crafts for both our RADling and all her siblings. There will be chores and work, but lots of family time to promote attachment. After talking to the director over the telephone for more than an hour, I am very excited about not only the parenting methods (Nancy Thomas often directs these camps, though she will not actually be present at this one) that we'll come home educated about, but just the atmosphere of the week should provide lots of fun as well as learning about developing conscience and promoting attachment. So, we leave in just 2 weeks, and I have even cleared taking the new little one along if she's here. Can you imagine making a 500 mile trip with 6 kids, 4 of which are 4 and under? I giggle thinking about it. We made a trip to Florida this past summer, it actually wasn't as hard as I had anticipated, but I thought if I had to sing, "The Wheels on the Bus go round and round" one more time, I would die. Really. Faint dead away! ;)

Here's to another thousand times singing that silly song!!!!

Family Growing?

We should get an absolute confirmation call sometime today. The case worker isn't 100% positive just yet, but she already feels fairly confident.... but on Monday, if all goes as she is planning right now, she will be bringing me a new little baby girl right from the hospital! As always, we don't know how long she'll be with us. Could be anywhere from 5 days, to 6 weeks, to a year. I anticipate mom working hard and being able to care for her eventually, she is currently breastfeeding and planning to send milk for us to use. That alone speaks well of her.

We can't wait to get our hands on her! I had not planned on telling the kids until we knew for sure, but Grace asked about Little Boy Blue last night, who went home in July after a 6 week stay with us. She was not at all upset, but asked if we could go get him for a little stay. I took that opportunity to go ahead and tell her that no, we couldn't see him, but that we might be taking care of another little baby while her mom gets better. She was excited about that! She asked a thousand questions I don't yet know the answer to: "What's her name? How little is she? Is she chocolate?" Obviously the last question cracks me up. All my born of the body kids have wanted a "chocolate" baby. As a matter of fact, Hope desperately wanted Grace to be chocolate. While I was pregnant (she was 4) she tried to place her order. Like I had control over what kind of baby was growing in my belly. "I want boys, momma. 2 of them. Chocolate." All matter of fact like she was sure that's what was in my protruding belly. I really worried she wouldn't accept her GIRL sister, only 1, "manilla". Not even 1 factor what she wanted. hahahaha!

This baby is biracial, (I wonder if that is chocolate enough?) and I'm sure the other girls will inspect every inch of her as soon as she gets here. Just like they have with every other baby that comes to our home. Whether staying or just visiting. What is that about kids (and some adults - me)? I even find myself asking other moms if I can take their baby's socks off. And I really would completely undress them if it wasn't so dang inappropriate! Upon entering the room to see Grace for the first time, Faith (then 6) immediately loosened the burrito wrap, pulled the socks, and then pulled her diaper tabs and took a peek. Bwahahahahahahahaha!

Fair Night

Every year, the kids get armbands for one night at the fair. You know, a little paper bracelet that allows them to ride any ride as many times as they want from 6 to 10. Feeling very brave, because you can't take any kids without expecting the full day to be crazy with distractions and fits and over stimulation, I purchased the arm bands knowing the fun they'd bring along with all the melting down. So, after packing a back pack with sippie cups and light jackets and crackers and extra clothes for my pee-not-in-potty kid, we headed out to the fair. We were just a little before 6, so we rounded the exhibits and the animals (such fun!). I thought Blessing was never going to leave the pig. He was snorting away and she thought that was the funniest thing ever. I'm racking my brain, thinking, surely she's has seen a pig before. But I guess maybe she really hasn't.... other than the pictures in the books we read. She snorted and squealed and turned circles, oh how I wish I'd had a video camera!

I can't believe how big the kids are getting. Even my 2 4-yr olds jumped on rides that just seemed way too big for them. The big swings. The Ferris Wheel (with their siblings, not with their parents.... we didn't have armbands). The Tilt-a-Whirl. Which, by the way, I'm SO old! I could ride anything I wanted over and over again at one time in my life, now I can't even watch my kids go round and round without being queasy. The Tilt-a-Whirl was their favorite, I think. At least they rode it a thousand times. I wish I had brought my camera so that you could see how little they looked! They squealed and laughed and ran from ride to ride. Blessing clung to my neck after quickly jumping on a ride, then realizing she didn't like it, cried the whole ride, and then wouldn't try another one for quite some time. There was one slide, though, that she slid on a hundred times. The guy in the gate just stopped making her go out the exit like all the other kids, she was free to go right from the bottom back to the ladder again.

My RADling? Not a hitch. And we're talking a public place!!!!!! I think she was so excited about the rides that charming everyone around her was too far back in her brain! She had a couple of whines about not getting to go to the exact ride she wanted to right at the moment, but no fits or aggression when corrected and explained to that we have to do what others want to do, too. Very good night for her. There was one incident of pushing a sibling, but she paid her consequence without too much of a fuss, and even allowed me to comfort her afterwards right in the middle of all that noise and crowd and lights. I couldn't believe it. She also was nurturing towards a friend's baby while sitting out a ride because of the pushing. Ok, for those of you who can't appreciate this...... I'm saying she pushed, yes, but when dished the consequence of sitting out for a ride, she cried. Usually it would be met with screaming and fitting. Very loud, obnoxious crying that isn't genuine. These were real tears, yes it was only because she didn't get to ride, but that would be any kid's response. The fact is, it was genuine. And, after a few minutes of turning her back to me, she turned back around and held up her arms for me to hold her. I then explained what she did, what she should have done, and that she would get to ride again when the other kids got off that one ride. She stopped crying, smiled and talked to ME about OTHER things while we waited. No more whining. No more blaming. And, she even focused her attention to a nearby baby, which she lovingly patted on the back and talked to softly. Where did this kid come from? Wooo-hooooo!!!!

I had 2 kids that didn't last till 10. I brought them home at about 9 (after getting our 12 passenger stuck in the field and being pulled out by about 6 guys, including one with a 4 wheel drive and a chain....another post for another day). I'll bet you can't guess which 2! It wasn't my RADical darling, or my fraidy cat (Grace)...who was riding everything there...go figure. One was Hope... who loves to ride and is much less cautious about what she'll ride than her older sibling, unfortunately for her she gets motion sickness. So, looking very green she finally agreed home sounded good, and I brought Blessing along with me. Blessing wasn't convinced she was done, but she was beginning to wilt. So I pulled the "I'm the mommy" card and made her come home, too. But no one was actually in bed until after 10. They did stay in bed a little longer than normal this morning....we'll see what today holds! No matter what, it was very worth the trouble! Lots of fun and hopefully some great family memories!

Too Tired....

.....to construct complete sentences, so, how about random thoughts in the form of bullet points?

- I now have sprayed enough deet on my children to keep a small army from getting a mosquito bite.

- It still doesn't work. My kids look no different than the abused ones I've seen as a nurse/foster parent and I talk bad about their mothers for letting their kids get so eaten up by bugs.

- RAD is still alive and kicking. I'm as stubborn as it is, though.

- Stocking up on enough sprite and saltine crackers to nurse a mega family during an outbreak of stomach virus might keep everyone else from getting it. Did I really get through that with only one child falling prey?

- We got in a great day of school, even included some fun stuff for the first day of fall. Fun stuff. Good stuff. I feel great about what we accomplished.

- School, by the way, for 3 different grades and 4 different children and chasing/meals/chores in between took from 9 till 5.

- A sense of accomplishment does not erase weariness. Lots of colors, glue sticks, leaves, reading lessons, math lessons, potty breaks, and running after one kid who might as well be the poster child for ritilin (Blessing, in case you're wondering) has taken it's toll. I'm pooped.

- It's worth it. I'm pouring my cup completely out, but He keeps overflowing it. It all comes out in the wash.

- The family bed idea was not meant for a 7 member family. Must have major discussion with children. Before tonight.


Ok, so this one can't be a bullet point because I feel the need to explain. I've never been one of those moms who thought the TV came straight from hell. But I've never really cared for it, either. I happen to think there are some great shows out there, but the commercials ruin it. It seems if my kids watch much at all they're suddenly whining about all these things they want that they don't have. Attitudes just seem to crash and burn much quicker and much more often if TV has been in the diet. Today, though, after cleaning about 3 tons of pillow stuffing (how in the world did all of that ever fit in that pillow to begin with?) after 4 loads of laundry, school, 3 meals and 3 clean ups, too many phone calls and too many melt downs; I think about 5 episodes of Dora are in order. I deserve it. So do they.

Fun Friday

I know, I know. It's Monday. I've been a little busy. Gee, I can't imagine why!

I try to reserve Fridays for lots of fun. We still do school, but it's the fun stuff. Last Friday we painted flower pots and will be planting some seeds for our botany lessons, played in the rain again, spent some time in the kitchen making rice krispie treats and pizza, did a little reading and squeezed in a couple of not so fun math lessons in between. We also listened to some of our new favorite audio series, The Pond radio show, and Jonathan Park radio drama.


Yes, Blessing is naked. Well, all except for the diaper that I swore I would never again put on her about 2 or 3 months ago. 6 pair of panties per day later, I caved. I'm frustrated about that, both at myself and her, and not sure what the next step is. She's 3, people. 3 and though slightly developmentally delayed, not enough that makes me think she is not capable of potty training. In fact, she has had as much as a week at a time with no accident. Then suddenly, 6 panties in one day again. every. day. arg. And as far as the nakedness, well, neurologically she tolerates clothes just fine. But one speck of wet, dirt, paint, or if the seams aren't just right, off they come.


And then there's Charity. Who after 2 seconds of pretty colors and paint brushes decided that madly banging and franticly rubbing the paint all over the page worked much better. She's one of those if-I-can't-do-it-perfectly-then-I-freak personalities. You're not the only one, darling. Definitely not the only one.


I know it's a terrible picture, and it's hard to tell, but it's raining. And that is a tree "swing" the older girls rigged. Look close and you can see those stinky red sparkly shoes on Grace. With her pajamas. Do you still think I'm a good mom?


And last, but not least, my oldest girls. They slipped and slid and enjoyed the rain, too!

Why, yes

As a matter of fact, those are my children. In a mix of their underwear and dress-up clothes and pajamas.


In the rain.


In the POURING DOWN rain.


And, we spent HOURS in the dark.


Gustav made a name for himself in our home. Not a very nice name, either. He robbed us of electricity. I really thought it was about 5 days of no lights, but, turns out, when I counted it up, it was only 3. It sure felt longer, though. Because our home is all electric, he also robbed us of hot baths and warm meals. He stole our hard wood floor. Completely ruined. And our home reeks of wet stink. I gave up trying to wait on electricity about the 2nd day in, and loaded up our van and headed to my mom's.

Thank God for mothers.

The girls spent a couple of days baking cookies with their great grandmother, following in the steps of their Papa through the woods and all over the yard, putting together a kajillion puzzles with their Nana, and other fantastic fun only wonderful grandparents can provide. It was the perfect safe haven for a couple of days. If you don't count that my RADish is not at her best when her normal life is uprooted and there are extra people to show out for. By the way, I'll fill you in on what I think about the book in an upcoming post.

I missed you all, and hope to catch up, soon! ;)

Hide and Seek

Much to my dismay (I don't like my shoes being trampled on in the closet or all the blankets unfolded to become covering) this game is a favorite with all my kids. My little ones love it, too, of course. Blessing, however, has not figured out yet that being good at the game requires being quiet and still. 5 seconds after "Ready or not, here I come!", the giggles start. You need only follow the noise. Not to mention her little eyes just have to peep out and see where you are. And as for being still, well.... Are you kidding me? That's just an impossible task for this little darling. No can do.





But she just might have the best eye for good spots! She did that all on her own. Did I mention she's a monkey, too?

2 Tablespoons

Hope made pancakes for supper tonight. She wanted to do them all on her own, and she pretty much did. I was working around her on other projects. **ahem**...making sure she didn't burn the kitchen down. Or worse, crack eggs onto the floor. Yes, that IS worse than a smoldering kitchen. Have you ever cleaned that up on a wood floor that has little cracks between the flanks?

Mom: I don't think you put the oil in. You need 2 tablespoons of oil.

Hope: Where's the tablespoons?

Mom (playing therapist and trying to teach the child to solve her own problems): Hmmmm. I've never been in this kitchen before. I have no idea where the measuring spoons are!

Pause - Ok, I understand why smaller children do this. Toddlers who do not yet know how to carry on a conversation, yet want to converse with you, will ask the same question over and over and over and over again. Even though they knew the answer before they asked the first time. They just want to talk. But aren't hip on what a real conversation is like. But my 8 year old? Why does she constantly ask questions that if she would just take half a second to think about, she knows the answers. She's helped in the kitchen THOUSANDS of times. Besides, there are 2 drawers. 2. Even if she had never been in there before, it's not like they were lost in the vastness of our kitchen. I'm not exaggerating one bit, people. 2 drawers.

Back to the kitchen - After just a minute I turn around and see Hope with her 2 tablespoons of oil. I busted out laughing. Wait, let me get the camera! She stood there looking confused. I laughed on. And told her she'd be the subject of my post tonight. Can you see the 2 tablespoons? I know it looks like she is all Vanna-like displaying her genuis idea, but she's actually throwing both hands out and looking at the stove in complete confusion. She can't figure out why it's so funny, and what exactly I'm taking a picture of. Who is her teacher, anyway?

Ode to being 4

Because at 4, this outfit is suitable for any task. What can be better? Glue AND glamour. All in one day.

The new shoes

Have any of you ever had a faint, terrible smell in your home? I've walked around for days, occasionally catching a wiff, trying to follow my nose to the source, but either becoming distracted first, or just not able to find the culprit. That once happened in our car, and we finally found a long-time missing sippie cup that had originally been filled with chocolate milk. I assure you it was NOT chocolate milk anymore. This time, however, a quick survey of the cupboard yeilded no missing cups. All accounted for. That couldn't be the source.

Another time, I realized my husband's (I wouldn't admit it if it was mine) sparring gear needed some bleach wipes. EEEEWWWWWW!

This week, however, the culprit was elusive. Or age is weakening my senses. Nah, that can't be it!

In other news, after this, Grace did make the transition from the worn shoes, to the new ones. There were nights she wore one pair, and held the other as she drifted off to sleep, but slowly the new ones finally broke in enough that she began wearing them and I've put the worn ones into the hope chest for safe keeping.


The life of a 4 year old is soap opera material. Oh, the drama! First of all, the bright shiny sequins have not held up so well. How can they? With each bump on the bicycle pedal or rub on the sidewalk more glitter fell off. They weren't exactly made to be everyday material. Add the rain (and mud) and well, the new shoes don't look so new. As a matter of fact, they look as worn as the old ones. Each glitter scuff has manifested some tears from Grace. Each drop of mud a crisis. But for me, if I let her wear those silly things with her church clothes that are PURPLE, then I don't care if they look worn, right? Right. So on they marched.

The last 3 days she's been wearing her new shoes nonstop, bath time being the only time her little feet were out them. This morning, as we were getting ready for church, that smell was still lingering around. Again, I tried to find the culprit. No luck. Back to fixing the little ones' hair. As I was pulling Grace's hair back, the smell got so bad I said aloud, "Good grief, what IS that?" Grace piped up. "It's my feet, mom." Like she had known it for days. All matter of fact.

My eyes got big. Oh, no. I pulled the shoes from her little feet. WWWWOOOOOLLLLFFFFFF!!!!!!! **gag**. She laughed. She was proud. Faith, Hope, Charity, AND Blessing all started squealing and scrunching their noses and waving their hands in front of their faces. And don't forget the laughing. I really should have taken a picture of Grace's face. She's a girl. Usually a very girly girl. Prissy. Sassy. And even proper. But she was VERY proud of that stink! She chased the other girls around the living room, sticking her feet in their faces, and laughing with all the gusto of a typical boy.

I put the shoes away (could not bring myself to throw them away...yet), and she cried. I have to draw the line somewhere. You can't walk around the world in red shoes that make you smell like, well, you'd just have to smell it. I can't believe such a pretty little girl can smell SO rotten!!!!!!

Geocaching

Have you done this yet? You HAVE to. We only went for about an hour, a friend teaching us the ropes, but we are hooked! This trip was just for Faith and Hope (and their friends), but next time it will be a family affair. I can see even the little ones loving the "treasure hunt". We found 2 today, and one had a coin that can also be tracked online. We have yet to track it, but will do that tomorrow, and then place it in another cache the next time we go! The girls replaced the items they took (the tracking coin, and another coin with a cross cut out of it) with necklaces. A young boy with us put in a little cowboy figurine and pulled out a cross charm "for my mom." All together, now. Aaaaaawwwwwww!

It's tough being 4

I'm cold. I'm hungry. I'm tired. But the mention of going to bed does NOT make me happy!




So, I enjoy the short time that I can, indeed, make it all better. The day is coming when I can't. For now, I can give you some strawberry milk in your favorite purple cup, I'll wrap a blanket and my arms around you, and rock you to sleep.