Maybe Oil and Water can mix, after all.

In a rare moment of sharing without finding a way to be upset with one another, Oil and Water were reading a look and find “Where’s Waldo” type book together the other day. I had to take a photo, just to remind myself that it can happen. They play together on a regular basis. They just usually find a way to fight about it too.

Cleanly confused.

I've been making my own soap for nearly two years now. I was cleaning out the bathroom cupboard a few days ago and found half a dozen bars of Irish Spring from before my soap making days. Charlie was in the tub when I stuck a bar of it into the tub to use it up.

"Is that ice?"
"No, it's soap."
"When did you make green soap?"
"I didn't make it. I bought it, a long time ago."
"You can BUY soap?! WHERE?!"
"Wal-Mart. Lots of stores sell soap."

She was amazed. What a strange life we lead. She doesn't remember anything other than homemade soap. What other misconceptions am I unknowingly teaching my children?!

Pierce was in the shower with me the other day, and I was sitting in the water spray, rinsing his hair when he apparently decided the water was too hot. He marched over to the faucet and flipped it to cold. Ice cold. There I am, big pregnant body trying to scramble up while taking a now cold shower. If I could have seen it instead of experienced it... It would have been hysterical. I share this story so you all may laugh instead. I'm still trying to recover.

And... back to my misery. I can't remember the last cold I had that kicked my behind quite this bad.

Persistence, pain, and learning personal hygiene...

Today was the Christmas party for the kids at co-op. It was exhausting, long, and now... It's over. Whew. Co-op is done until January, we start our break from schooling next week, and it feels like I've passed the first leg of surviving homeschooling for the year.

Tonight was my 27.5 week midwife appointment. Baby's head down! After one breech baby resulting in a c-section (Ruby), I was relieved to hear this baby is doing its part in cooperating. As achy as I've been lately, everything looks great with baby. Enduring the next twelve or so weeks could be interesting. Heartbeat's consistently 140. If I guessed, I'd say girl... but I'm rarely right. Just often enough to say "Yeah, you have a fifty percent chance of being right."

Yes, I accidentally scheduled my midwife appointment on co-op party day. Not the smartest thing I've ever done.

The four older kids got their free pizzas from Pizza Hut on the way home. Small town, I sent them in together to get the pizzas I'd called in. The young server asked if they'd be dining in. Four kids, ages five to ten, without an adult, dining on Book It pizzas, alone. I know it's a small town, but is that something they've had happen?!

Tammy, bless you for mentioning swipe on kindle. I had to Google it to find out what it was, but wow, has that made this process faster. I think it might even be faster than typing. Amazing.

Charlotte told me this morning that she'd put undies on already so I wouldn't have to tell her to cover her bottom. Progress, my friends. One of these years I might not have to remind them of these things. Right?! I finally told them I was starting a cavity fund and fining them a quarter each time noon rolled around and their teeth weren't brushed. None of them have yet to have a cavity, but I'm not sure how. My nagging skills have been finely tuned, and my pet peeve of such things is quite over it. Strangely enough, I have yet to collect anything for my cavity fund. Funny how money talks.

The kids managed to chop down the tree they were working on the other day all by themselves. They brought it to the house, recruited Blaine to set it up, and decorated it all by themselves. The light strands hang in clusters and the ornaments only cover the bottom two thirds of the tree, the star won't stay on the top because the branches are too soft and bend under pressure, and most of the ornaments have to hang from lights. But oh, the pride in the job they accomplished all on their own, together. This family of mine, with all of its interesting moments provided by many small children, is so different than the way I grew up - but I love it. Independence and teamwork are lessons built in if I just stop back and let them figure it out. Priceless.

I was contemplating two of my children this morning and made some observations to my husband.

We have buddies around here. Each of my children has a buddy – a littler person who they are willing and able to get things for, help dress, take potty, etc., when I am unable. Eden’s buddy is Charlotte. Eden’s been compared to a bull in a china shop more than once. She takes life in stride, plows through where she ought tread lightly, and tends to be a bit… blunt. Charlotte, on the other hand, is calm and quiet, shy, one to let her emotions get the better of her. The two together make an interesting team. Sometimes it’s really, really interesting.

Pairing up with Charlotte has smoothed a few of Eden’s edges. It’s taught her compassion, gentleness, understanding. Charlotte has taken Eden in stride for the most part, and it’s been amazing to see the relationship between those two grow. Lately, Charlotte has been sleeping with Eden. Charlotte had been on a trundle of sorts, but she kept rolling off her bed and ending up under Eden’s bed in the middle of the night. Nightly for a good while, I’d stumble in to her hollers that she was stuck once again and pull her out from under the bed. Finally, she started sleeping with Eden instead, and the under-the-bed mid-night rendezvous stopped.

This morning, though, Charlotte told me, “Eden pushed me off the bed again. But this time I didn’t hit my head!” Poor girl, I never knew. I commented to Blaine how good Charlotte has been for Eden, and how Eden apparently has a learning curve in sleeping next to another.

He told me it sounded like Eden and I have a lot in common.

The first few years of marriage and attempting to share one sleep space were interesting. Apparently Eden comes by her rough edges honestly.

Sobering thought. How easy is it to see my daughter and wonder why she can’t slow down, do things carefully, watch her words, be gentle? Is that how I am?

I’m thankful for Blaine. For the man who stood by me and helped smooth out a few rough edges without complaint. Who lives with the rest of them, never saying a word – being glad “it didn’t hurt – this time”. Those personality differences in friends and spouses and children can be difficult. We just don’t understand some people. But how often are those the ones we learn the most from?

Sobering thoughts to start out my day.

I never imagined this.

These days are hard. School seems to drag on forever, co-op has become a stress like no other and keeps me awake at night, it’s all I can do to keep up with the house somewhat and laundry, Pierce is tearing the house apart as fast as I can put it back together and refusing to take naps many days, and my belly is bigger and causing me more pain than it’s ever been at just shy of 23 weeks.

It’s funny, as a kid, picturing motherhood didn’t include absolute exhaustion. It didn’t include frustration or anger or sticking to the floor when I stumble into the kitchen after consoling a child with growing pains at 3am. It didn’t include repeating myself over and over and over or searching for lost objects that I didn’t lose or potty training a single child for six months with limited success.

Strangely enough, I pictured lovely children, well-behaved, without all the work. I imagined clean, pressed (HA!) and smiling children. This just wasn’t what I imagined.

Messes. Oh, the messes. The laundry, the mountains of work without the energy to climb anything more than the path to the couch. The pure exhaustion and achiness that pregnancy brings. The unending meal preparation and the inability to feed my children one helping of anything that fills them up.

But.

I didn’t picture the discussions either. The talks of sin and Christ’s love. The discussions of those painful growing up moments that are inevitable.

The laughs. Oh, the laughs. The hilarious things that a child comes up with. The heart stopping moment when you find your two year old standing high in the air, perched on a tiny patch of instability. The baby kissing “his baby” in Momma’s belly, loving someone so unconditionally that they’ve never met, don’t fully understand, and who is taking up more and more of “their” lap space.

The different personalities. The ones I see myself in clearly, and the ones I don’t understand in the slightest because they are so unlike me. The ones who are word oriented and the ones who crunch numbers like nobody’s business. Outgoing. Shy. Energetic. Quiet.

If I had to describe them each in a word…

Liberty… perfectionist

Eden… scattered

Sterling… mathematical

Ruby… passionate

Charlotte… imaginative

Pierce… hungry

Yeah. I never pictured any of this. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The hardest thing I’ve done, and the only thing I can’t quit. Day after day, new struggles face me in the lives of these children. I never imagined this. But I’m having the time of my life – on the good days and the bad.

Liberty's making pancakes - from a mix. She's over an hour in and I just heard the first oil spray hit the pan. I can teach them how to cook… but how on earth do you teach them speed?!

Sterling asked me how big a yard was. My reply was, “3 feet. 36 inches. A yard stick. You know, that’s why we call it a YARD stick.”

My son just snorted at me. In that brief second, he realized he’d asked a very stupid question. I love it. (If you saw how they play with yard sticks around here, you’d understand better. We have about 10 of them, from the farm show and from Blaine’s parents’ hardware store. They frequently become swords, roads, and, with the help of bread twist ties, bridges. Yard sticks are something he knows VERY well.)

Yesterday Sterling learned about nickels. We sorted out 2 quarters, 10 nickels, 5 dimes, and 50 pennies into four piles to make a point on the value of each coin. What Sterling got out of our piles? “We have $2 here!” I’m not the least bit math minded. My son is scaring me.

Pierce is back to his normal self. Temper tantrums, requiring lots of correction, and eating everything in sight normal Pierce. Thankful. Even for the exhausting job of the constant need to correct him. Funny: I dropped a butter knife onto the tile floor with a crash that sounded worse that it really was. Pierce took the opportunity to correct me back. “Momma! No no!”

Ruby was told that today at co-op she has PE and needs to wear jeans. She came back with five jean skirts for me to choose from, insisting that a jean skirt with leggings is really easy to run in. She just can’t stand it.

Eden is the first child I’ve ever had to tell to write out her math answers using numbers, not words. She had an entire lesson that she wrote answers like “five hundred twenty six thousand nine hundred fifty two” – in cursive. I’m sorry. I’m glad you know place value and how a number reads in words. But my brain does not want to convert that to numbers, so you’ll have to indulge me and use numbers next time.

Charlotte insists she’s three now, so she’s big. Until last night. When asked why she wasn’t helping to clean up supper, she informed me she’s not that big. It went into a several-minute dissertation on why three years old is pretty big, but she’s not quite big enough to do work, because she’s still pretty short. With the ability to have a discussion like that, she’s being recruited into service. She’s a fabulous “Crawl under the table for any runaway cups, silverware, napkins, or large pieces of food picker-upper”.

The pancakes were worth the wait. If you have the chance, the pecan-glazed mix from Aldi is pretty darn fabulous. And a ten year old can make them. If they have an hour and a half.

Underthings proclamation and other short stories.

I was in a dressing room, trying on a purple maternity dress. Charlotte tagged along.

“Mom! That dress matches your glasses!”

Yes. Yes it does.

“It matches your…” she searched for the next purple item she could name. “PANTIES, TOO!”

Could you say that a little louder, dear? I’m not quite sure the cashier at the front of the store heard you. From the chuckles outside the dressing room, the other ladies shopping nearby certainly did.

One dear boy helped his big sister lick out her birthday cake batter bowl. I’m pretty sure he got some in his mouth. Wouldn’t know it by looking at him though. I’m going to take heart between the two faces, and remind myself at the difference a year makes.

Today: Three grocery stores, six children and I, 1.5 hours, a week and a half worth of groceries, tp, and cat food, $200. That might be a new record for time. Between that, and Pierce actually holding onto the cart the entire time he was instructed without failing to obey (down to almost walking away to get in the van and remembering, saying “Oops!” and heading back to his post) it was a day for record-breaking. Maybe that’s why we got done so quickly, come to think of it!

One of my dear children, to remain nameless, was questioned this morning regarding MIA daily 100-problem math timed tests that had been assigned. Turns out, this dear child opted not to do them, pulling the perfectionist card out of the repertoire of bad excuses. “I can get a good score, so I didn’t want to do them. So I didn’t.” How didn’t? 14 lessons didn’t. Between those, the extra lesson that had been assigned but not completed, and the four chapter tests also mysteriously opted out of, one dear child has roughly 1,400 math problems to make up. It makes my head hurt just thinking about it. Today: half done. I’m scared to correct them, for fear said child’s brain opted out of complete operation after all that. Sometimes being the parent and the teacher just stinks. It’s stinking hard to leave the frustrations of our school day during school hours and move on in the evening.

Liberty was conjugating verbs. “Have boughtended?” The sad part was, she looked at me, waiting for my nod of approval instead of realizing her error. She realized it shortly after, however - when I snorted.

I told Sterling to grab his math book today. “Why?” he questioned.

“To do your lesson,” I replied.

“I already did it,” I was told.

“Yeah, fine, but we need to do your lesson. You’re learning about measuring today.”

“That math book is weird, Mom. I already know how to measure. They want to teach me things I already know. I did that page too. Why are the people that wrote that book so weird? That stuff is so easy.” And he had done it. All of it. To perfection.

Tomorrow, we work on humility.

Charlotte Serenity

Charlotte Serenity turned three years old today. A new pair of slipper boots from Grandpa and Grandma (because soft fuzzy things are her favorite – proven when she wore them to bed tonight) and a new dress because Momma can’t seem to let a girl birthday go by without a sewing project were a few of her favorite things.

A new doll that looks remarkably like Charlie herself – who also got a new dress to mark the occasion,

and three candles in a German Chocolate cupcake marked the grander celebrations of the day. She had a fabulous day, and was more excited about the fact that she was three than the cupcakes or the gifts. Being three, she tells me, is a really big deal. She wanted to know if she’d still spill and need a bib when she’s three. With her… the answer is yes. Spills are still gonna happen. Sorry.

Happy birthday, Baby Big Girl.

Dyslexic Hearing. (Which, I’ve learned, is really possible!)

Charlotte just walked in the room saying, “Momma, I’m hungry. Can I have lunch?” (It’s 4:37 pm. Lunch is O.V.E.R.)

She walked in right as I said to Liberty that I’m going to go through the toys and getting rid of a bunch.

Charlie’s next question had me realizing I have a daughter who does the exact same thing I do: mix up what I hear.

“Why are you getting rid of LUNCH?!”

While the idea had never occurred to me, and I’m certain it would save me both time and money, I don’t think it’s a feasible option. The crabby children and crabby Momma would nix the benefits quite quickly.

Charlotte was quite relieved I wasn’t doing away with lunch. And suddenly, getting rid of some of the toys sounded like a great option to her.

Quality parenting, right there, folks. Without even trying, I showed her how nice I am. I kept lunch and threw the toys instead, and it was all good. Talent. Such talent.

Oh my. I needed a longer nap today.

Oh, for cute.

Four new circle skirts

made from this pattern

slightly edited on the waistband for ease of knowing where the back is (and covering my sewing machine’s hatred for sewing two piece of elastic together)

and four new necklaces, made from matching fabric from this pattern,

made four very happy girls. Four very cute very happy girls.

With skirts that spin out like every little girl’s dream,

it makes my shorts/leggings under every dress/skirt rule very, very important!

Stink.

Yesterday during the worship service at church Charlie thrust her little finger in the air and said, “THAT came out of MY NOSE!”

Watch me sink into the pew just a bit and pretend that didn’t just happen.

Pierce is fully pee-trained. It’s going fabulously. (Well, except for when Daddy gave him chocolate milk and didn’t provide ample opportunity to dispose of said chocolate milk. But two accidents after a week of none makes me think it’s Daddy’s fault. That’s my story, anyhow.)

Pierce isn’t poop-trained. How to get that under control? If he happens to be on the potty, it lands there. If he isn’t, it lands wherever he is. He’s still wearing a diaper when we leave the house for fear of another episode similar to the one at the eye doctor’s. He’s the first kid of mine that doesn’t take the diaper as a free pass. He still uses the toilet and not the diaper. Unless he poops. Anyone?

Poison ivy. Oh. My. Word. Me. Eden. LIBERTY. It’s bad. So, so bad.

Something died in the woods. I can’t find it. But oh my, I can smell it. I told the kids I’d pay cash for whoever located the source of the “something died in the woods” smell so that I could dispose of it away from my bedroom window. It’s still MIA, but I picked a lot of ticks off children after the investigation. Blaine laughed at my dead-animal finding technique, enlisting the kids’ help, but they were driven by money. At one point, I heard, “Bring clothespins!” I told you it stunk.

I kept smelling the dead something in the kitchen, but after thorough investigation, I found someone had spilled milk inside each and every one of my thirteen metal mixing bowls. After a few days of 90+ degrees, curdled milk smells a bit like death. That after a gallon of expired milk I’d planned – but neglected to follow through with – to make pancakes with exploded in the garage fridge.

Between Pierce’s inability to inform me he needs to use the toilet, the dead animal in the woods, and rotten milk, I’m not sure my stomach can handle it. It’s been a week.

Today, we’re back to school for our on-week. Sterling found out and said, “I thought we got a week off?” Uh yeah, I know dude. That week went really fast.

The story of us. Part thirteen.

Read part one here.
Read part two here.
Read part three here.
Read part four here.
Read part five here.
Read part six here.
Read part seven here.
Read part eight here.
Read part nine here.
Read part ten here.
Read part eleven here.
Read part twelve here.

“We moved into the house without hot water, a gutted laundry room, and dripping septic lines. That was just the beginning - and I was six months pregnant with our fifth child.”

Those first months were a lesson in patience and what we really needed not just wanted. Hot water, while oh so pleasant, really is a luxury. We learned that, by turning two giant canners on high, we’d have boiling water in 45 minutes. I’d fill them the night before, and in the morning Blaine would get up, turn the stove on, and go back to bed. His next alarm went off 45 minutes later, and he’d have enough boiling water to heat up a bathtub full of cold. He’d take a bath, and then I’d take one in the same water. It was like something out of the stories I’ve heard from years past.

The lawn took me five hours to mow with our push mower. The first time I mowed, I had to mow backwards, pulling the mower, to keep it from dying on the overgrown mess we started out with. Oh, the memories. I managed to mow until I was 30 weeks pregnant. Every bit of our lawn is a hill, and when I finally gave up mowing it myself, it was dry enough it didn’t really need to be mowed. Just before Charlotte was born we were blessed with a riding lawn mower for a very, very low price. Right then, that was amazing. Nearly three years later, it’s still the mower I use.

Over Labor Day weekend, 3 1/2 months after we bought our house, we had hot water for the first time. In the process of replacing the gas lines, Blaine had been dripped upon from the septic lines and the water lines, and much of that had to be replaced as well. Before any of it could start, he had to dig out the crawl space, on his belly, just to get back to the lines. A good chunk of electric lines have also needed to be replaced, the hot water heater had to be replaced, but the bright light in it all was that Blaine was capable – and willing – but not exactly excited – to do it all himself. A lot of trips to Lowe’s, a definite blow to the finances, but it could have been so much worse.

The air conditioner (and heater) to our home was broken when we bought the house. It’s the only thing wrong with the place that we knew about. That was one hot summer. We still haven’t fixed either, despite saying we ought to do that. We’ve grown accustomed to hot, hot summers and hot, hot winters. The basement contained an amazing machine – one we didn’t realize quite what we had when we bought the place. We have a wood burning furnace down there that has (over) heated the house each winter and saved us huge amounts of money, for sure. Despite the problems we’ve dealt with here, this house has been perfect for us in some very lean years.

Charlotte was born three weeks after the hot water was fixed in the house. That story is a fun one, and can be read here for those that are interested. She came home to running cold and hot water, something to be thankful for. She was – and still is – about as quiet as they come. It’s nigh unto impossible to get that girl to yell. (Unless she’s hurt. Then… oh my.) She was happy and easy and such a joy to add to our family.
Blaine headed back to California for his yearly work trip in January. While he was gone, nursing 3 month old Charlotte suddenly took a dive, and that could only mean one thing.

I was expecting again.

Get the little sister to do it.

Overheard between Charlotte and Ruby:

“You just swing your hand like this and it’ll fly away.”

Charlotte stood, hand raised above the moth, frozen in fear.

“Charlie! You just swing your hand like this and it’ll fly off the chair.”

Still, Charlie stared at the bug, unwilling to swing.

“Char-lie! Just swing at it. It won’t hurt you. Those kind of bugs don’t bite or anything. Just swing it away.”

I finally stepped in.

“Ruby, why does Charlie need to sweep the moth off of your chair?”

I knew. I already knew. And yet.

“Ugh, Momma, I don’t want to touch that thing! It’s gross!”

Education: beginning again.

These four children started back to school today.

Ruby’s in kindergarten.

Sterling’s in first grade.

Eden’s in fourth grade.

Liberty’s in fifth grade.

Momma’s in shock.

These two have the sole responsibility to keep themselves busy – and out of trouble – during our educating hours.

Deep breath. I can do this. We did it today. We got done before supper time. Laundry is four loads deep but didn’t get started until 4 pm. Supper happened, late, but it happened. The house… yeah, don’t ask too many questions about it.

I can do this.

Camping: Stump Lake, ND

 

While the kids spun around on an old-fashioned (read: super fun) merry-go-round, my mother took these photos:

In order to get said photos, she did this:

I’m nearly positive it is the first time I have ever seen my mother on a merry-go-round. Go Mom.

 

 

 

 

In other stories, Charlotte gave it her best attempt in learning to ride a bike. She was marginally successful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And since Sterling learned how to do this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and do it fabulously well, Ruby decided to do this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

although she’s not quite so fabulous at it. Give her some time. She’s not about to be one-upped by her older brother.

Farm education, wooly style.

On my parents little sheep farm























near a small town in South Dakota

the kids got to watch the sheep sheerer
























one rainy morning in June.
















Educational stuff, to be sure.


(Can I just throw in there how bad my back would hurt if I were bent over at such an angle for hours on end each day? Ouch.)

These are a few of my favorite things…

Clotheslines sagging with clean drying diapers over freshly mowed grass (and dogs that photo-bomb),

little boys making mud pies and the fruits of their labors,

has-been hair do’s that aren’t anymore…

Flowering chives and buzzing bees,

and sisters pooling their talents for birthday present pictures,

promises of sweet things to come,

brilliant blue eyes and a face full of freckles,

and two year olds who love green gum and (fraternal) twins,

and one year olds who nap longer because the kids are outside,

 

--- these are a few of my favorite [spring] things.