Primarily written by Adrienne, a homeschooling mother of seven, ages 10 and under. She chronicles life, laughs, struggles, and lessons learned as she raises a larger-than-most sized family and tries to figure out what she's doing day by day.

With occasional posts, Alexandra, Adrienne's older sister, writes of her ranch life in Nevada and raising four sons, ages 5 and under. Life is never dull and her boys have given her some pretty awesome stories to tell.

Stick around awhile, and you're sure to laugh, nod, smile, be encouraged, and see what life is like with a big (little) family.


Sunny cems.

We have had our goldfish, Sunny (Thus named when he was two. Apparently we needed to be sure he wasn't going to change color first.) for nearly four years now. He was - wait for it - $0.29 from Walmart. I know! I'd gone through fish after stinking fish, and everything died. Did you know Walmart has a guarantee on their fish? Yep, Mr. Customer Service, that was my Ziploc with the dead Mollie. He didn't even last 24 hours, and I was sick of it. Sunny was purchased within seconds of the fish man dumping fish into the tank. Apparently, the less time spent at Walmart, the better. Don't we all know that anyway?!

So, back to Sunny. Sunny isn't so sunny anymore. He spent the last week dying. I didn't know fish could take so long - apparently, he liked us. I know photos are the life of the blog, but I'll spare you on this one. Besides, the only other fish in the tank is a sucker fish, and he mourns strangely...

While we're on the topic of the dead, Liberty asked me yesterday why the cemetery is named "cemetery". Seriously, where is my etymology when I need it? The end of Liberty's question is what makes this one funny. "Is it because they cem, or do they tary?" While we might be able to pull something out of the tary part, I'm thinking not. Liberty loves compound words.

I took the kids to the dentist today. In the waiting room, Sterling hollered potty, then starting watching the floor behind himself while he walked to the bathroom. Yep, we all know what that means. Thankfully, the plop landed after we got into the bathroom and closed the door. So not cool, little man. I need more than 2 seconds warning when these things are coming.

I spent $34 at Kohl's today. I got shorts for L, a shirt for L, jeans for L, a shirt for R, 2 pairs of shoes for S, a shirt for me, and 4 pairs of earrings. Amount saved off original prices: $139. Sweet.

Mmm, flip flop. Ruby's teething. Still.


Potty-training, exploded intentions and misguiding monitors

Sterling had a great day yesterday as a newly-potty trained two year old. He had one accident - truly an accident, since he hollered during his nap for me and I'm apparently not in good enough shape to dash up the stairs quickly enough. I'll take the blame for that one.
Today, not so much. He did great, then he peed his pants. Then he waited and got to the potty and went, then he peed his pants. Seriously. Tonight, he didn't even try. Thanks, buddy. I've decided those good days are just to give me encouragement. For what it will be like in, say, five years.

This is what Saturday's impatience, followed by drinking the cold one found in the back of the fridge and forgetting these freezer-chilled ones until the following night gets you. Go B.

I've been using cloth diapers for several months now. Coming up with a diaper cover, waterproof, leak proof, easy to use, homemade and cheap to make has been my project as of late. I've officially not used Gerber's poor excuse for a diaper cover in weeks, but I've finally arrived in the I-made-it-myself category. Problem is, I ordered the material (PUL, in case you are wondering. Email me with diaper-cover questions, I'll save you tons of trips to the store and many wasted dollars!) online. I thought the colors our monitor displays were accurate. Turns out, not so much. Red-orange to me turns out to be neon, road-construction orange. Still to me, this photo looks more red than it really is. Red isn't. Period. I used red thread, figuring it couldn't make it any worse. Is it sad that I kind of like how it looks despite needing shades to look at it?! I have enough PUL to make six of these. Poor Ruby. I'll need to put a sign on her butt and she'll fit in the the sign holders on I-80. "Ruby's bottom works here."


I'll try to be brief. An introduction.

I've been pondering this whole open-blog thing for a while. I've posted on Multiply for some time, and Yahoo 360 before that, but those were only open to friends. How much of my daily life should be open for review? Is there anything I have to say that might be found worthwhile?

With neither of those questions truly answered, here I begin. Again. Apparently I tried this whole thing in October 2007. Beats me if I remember that! I can barely remember what month it is.

My husband of nearly 7 years and I have four kids. Liberty is 6, Eden is approaching 4 1/2 (on August 1st, and she'll tell you that with great relish), Sterling - the only boy in the bunch - is 2 and Ruby brings up the rear at a whopping 10 1/2 months. Since kids are what I know, this will likely be about them. That, and the other things I know - sewing, homeschooling, cooking, cloth diapering (my new venture!) and my Lord and Savior, Jesus. Not necessarily in that order!

Life is not dull around here. We work through the summer with school somewhat, Sterling is mid-potty training, Ruby's learning to walk, Eden's learning to read, and both Liberty and Eden are gloriously free of training wheels on their bikes these days. Liberty loves to read, Eden loves to climb (everything!), Sterling loves trucks and Ruby loves to chew (again, everything!).

Sounding off, with quips from the day:
Eden asked me one of those don't-you-know-it questions she asks on a regular basis. Her favorite is "Why is ___ named ___?" This questions goes for everything under the sun - sun included. "Why is a skunk named 'skunk'?" "Why is it called 'snow'?" Seriously, how do you answer that? Being the hands-on teacher I aspire to be, I Googled it. The first 20 times. The next 564 times, I said I didn't know. Liberty's response to my latest "I don't know" was "Come on, Eden. Mama doesn't know everything!" Huh, they've got my secret figured out. I thought I'd get at least a few more years of omniscience before they found me out. Darn.