Worth it?

I worked and cooked for several hours to produce one awesome pan of lasagna tonight. It's a lot of work, but fun to spend some extra energy to make a nice meal once in a while. Everything I make is from scratch, but we eat a lot of stir fry or meat and potatoes. Quick, easy, cheap.

Turns out, quick, easy, and cheap is preferred by my dear middle children who have extremely sophisticated taste buds.

How you can eat peanut butter sandwiches, tortillas with only miracle whip, and hot dogs with relish but turn your nose up at 5-cheese lasagna is beyond me. When Sterling, trained to be polite, told me the meal was good with his nose scrunched up, I told him you cannot say a meal is good while frowning. It's either good or it isn't. He, in all seriousness, replied, "It isn't."

So glad I worked so hard. I threw out there that those finishing their food would get ice cream. Suddenly, Sterling's food looked a whole lot better.

Ruby opted for no ice cream. I cannot win them all.

Brothers.

*Sterling picked out a new sun hat yesterday. Momma cringed and went with it. I do love hats… but I’m not so certain I love that hat. Pierce’s sun hat is leftover from years past… when I got to pick out the one that I liked – but Pierce rather likes his pj’s.

Dear Daddy,

We’re cold. It’s 63 degrees in the house, Momma refuses to put a fire in the stove and says to put more clothes on. Ruby’s version of more clothes:

A t-shirt, a fleece, a tank top over the fleece, sweat pants, and pajama pants over the sweat pants. Oh yea, and flip flops.

Problem solved.

Come home soon.

Love,

the kids

One classy girl.

I love hats. I wish I looked better in them, but I love them just the same. Eden’s in the same boat. I’m not certain if it’s just to please me – she swears it isn’t – or if she truly loves them as much as I do, but she wears them often.

Yesterday, we found this one. While I had been looking for a hat for me, (Without success. $32 for a sun hat?!) I found a hat that screamed ‘Eden’. Judging from the comments she got in the stores after we got it, it’s as classy as I thought.

Too fun. Now if I just had a smaller head. Little girl’s hats are significantly more reasonably priced than those in the ladies section!

Brought to you by Eden Rayne.

Eden saw something with a “Since 1942.” label on it.

“Momma, were you alive in 1942?”

“Nope.”

“Wow, that really was a long time ago!”

Blaine is out of town for work tonight and Eden asked why he wasn’t coming home. I explained the whole working thing and got an incredulous,

“So he’s staying in a motel in town?”

“Yes. No. Motel, yes. Our town, no. Farther away.”

Eden’s on a roll today. But she did pick out a super cute hat today. I’ll get a photo tomorrow. She was so excited about it she wanted to sleep in it.

Dearest Pierce,

We all know you’re a crank. Since day one, you have let the world know of your displeasure, loud and often. We all ignore it to some extent, cater to it to some extent, and look forward to the day that you decide we didn’t do you such the disservice as you seem to think we did.

But when your three year old sister asks what your problem is, you know it’s bad. She’s heard your cries for the last five months with barely a notice. Today, though, she asked why you are so cranky.

Today was worse. I didn’t even know that was possible.

You’d better be getting teeth. Or maybe it’s growing pains. No diaper pins are sticking you, your belly is full and your diaper is dry. You’ve napped and are headed that way again because I’m out of ideas. In the meantime, it’s a good thing we love you, screams and all. Feel free to cheer up though. My nerves are wearing thin.

Love,

Momma

Mmm, chicken.

We got 12 broiler chicks last Saturday. At the moment, they are in a giant wooden box (thanks, Dad!) in the garage. Sterling and Ruby have taken to running down about once per hour to check on them.

“Momma! They have blood on them!” Oh honey. That’s their behind. It’s supposed to be pink. No blood.

“Momma, they’re growing!” Perfect. I’m not certain I’m convinced that you can tell that just since you checked on them 10 minutes ago, but ok.

“Momma, they need more water!” How far is it down? About an inch. 7 more inches to go before it’s empty. I’ll get right on that.

And my favorite, “How come they aren’t big yet?” We told them they’d grow fast and four days in, darn it, they aren’t full grown yet.

Dear Charlotte,

I appreciate your attempts to be thrifty. Adding water to my face wash was a nice touch. It’ll stretch so much farther now. I’m not sure I like the new consistency, but I’m sure it’ll pour grow on me.

The eating toothpaste habit we must discuss. I’m about to make everyone use baking soda to brush with. I’m sure that will cure you of your habit, but I’m pretty sure your siblings will not appreciate your causing change.

If you need to snuggle at 2 am, could we lay side by side? Insisting that you lay flat out on top of me is not so comfy for me.

I know you’re a budding horticulturist, but, as you’ll find out should you study the topic further, leaving the dirt on the seeds Daddy planted is the best way for them to grow. Leaving the dirt on the floor isn’t good for Momma’s sanity.

Your frown is priceless. It’ll get you into trouble one day, but for now, it makes me laugh. Just know the day is coming that we’ll need to revisit the topic. Frowning at Momma when you don’t like what you hear isn’t acceptable past the age of 1.

We’ve made so much progress in the coloring department. You’re only coloring on paper these days. Now, to clarify: coloring on math books and Curious George books don’t constitute as coloring on paper. Yes, but no.

And in the words of you, ‘I, YOU!’. You refuse to say love… but we both know what it means. Your kisses and hugs are the best.

Momma

Dear Grandma,

Thank you for the potato salad idea.

Love,

Charlotte

Cereal confessions.

Charlotte eats Cheerios. A lot. This morning, the first box I found suitable to pick up with her fingers was chocolate cheerios. (Insert here that I did not grow up with sugar cereal. Not once that I can recall did we get cereal with sugar already on it in the box. I’m pretty sure I haven’t recovered… we buy a lot of sugar cereal. Both my dear husband and I… and now our children… see the value in honey nut cheerios over anything so plain and dry as the regular ones. Honey Bunches of Oats. You know, healthier versions than Lucky Charms. Most of the time. Some day I’ll grow up. Maybe.)

So back to Charlie. As I dumped chocolate cheerios (On sale, and I defend myself to say that I’d never gotten them before – or will I again. Not so great.) onto her tray for breakfast, she saw the darker color and says “Ooooooohhhhh!” like I’d given her the greatest gift. Needless to say, she finished and hollered for more.

Just call me ‘Raccoon Eyes’.

If you forgo the sunscreen, also forgoing the sunglasses would make for a far more even and less raccoon-like burn. Just so you know.

Dear, bickering children. How’s this one going to play out?

In the middle of putting another coat of polyurethane on our new stools, the kitchen table is covered with newspapers as a work area and out of use for eating at the moment. When Sterling and Ruby asked where they could eat lunch, I suggested one of them take the high chair. Sterling said he wanted to, and Ruby decided to one up him and ran to get to the chair first.

They make their own lunch. She hadn’t made hers yet.

A good three or four minutes into her little chair stealing session, she realized she doesn’t have any food. She’s still sitting there though, fearful of losing her place.

Sterling was moping until he realized Ruby’s predicament. Now everyone’s laughing at Ruby’s pleas for someone to make her lunch for her. This ought to be interesting.

Blessings, regularity, and bugs that I could do without.

Yesterday’s tick count for this family: 9. That, added to the one I found on Charlie on Monday would indicate that it’s going to be an itchy spring, I’m thinking.  Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl.

Charlotte woke up dry this morning – it’s happened a few times lately. Plopping her on the potty, she was so proud to do her business. Then she got up and more business puddled on the floor instead. Back to the potty, knowing regularity would indicate she had another sort of business to attend to. She sat for a bit, got up, and wouldn’t you know it, there was that darned old regularity we’d been waiting for. Good thing I hadn’t mopped yet.

Mr. Pierce, at the ripe old age of 5 months, went into 12 month clothes this week. And I thought having two boys born in opposite seasons was going to be an issue when it came to hand me downs. Pretty soon, they’ll just wear the same size. Never before have any of my children been more than one size bigger (and more often, smaller was the norm) than their age dictated for clothing. Bizarre.

Yesterday we were blessed by a dear family coming again to help with several of our many projects. My friends, they helped with fencing. Exactly. Rocky Missouri soil, t-posts, woven wire, and other tools I cannot even name were used to begin our task of fencing around our pasture. Awesome. With our list of to-do’s is far longer than days off allow for, this was huge. Did you know that driving a t-post into a rock bounces the ground just where the rock is, so you can see how big the boulder you are attempting to put a hole into is? It’s wonderful. If I were really, really ambitious, I could dig all those boulders up that are causing fencing problems and I’d have the rock garden I’ve been dreaming up for the front yard. Or not.

You know that wonderful feeling of a freshly scrubbed floor on bare feet?

We so do not have that going on right now. The bottoms of my feet, awake for two hours, would indicate it’s time to mop. Hello springtime.

Name that photo.

 

Words cannot explain.

Like mother like daughter. Sort of.

When I was about 16 and suggested to my father, he told me if I did that, I had to put a ring in it and then he could pull me around by it. Point taken. No nose ring at 16. So I waited 9 years, until I was 25 and mother of four, when my husband gave his consent and then I pierced my nose… with something considerably smaller. Ever since, my dear daughters use the fake earrings on their noses. Or baby linking toys. You know, whatever. And when they are 25 AND have produced four grandchildren for me, then they can get the real thing.

Unexcitable.

Blaine says you can tell we have a lot of kids by our reactions these days.

Sterling was in the kitchen eating when he started crying. I ignored him. It wasn’t an “attention necessary” kind of cry, ya know?

Blaine one upped me. He hollered, “Is there blood?” and then went back to what he was doing when someone said there wasn’t.

So not our first rodeo.

Who’s who? w/answers.

Eden
Pierce
Sterling
Charlotte
Eden
Liberty
Charlotte
Liberty
Sterling
CharlotteEden
RubySterling
Ruby
Liberty
Pierce
Liberty
I realize this was far more fun for me than for anyone else save, perhaps, Grandma, but if you care to guess, who’s who? Some are more obvious than others… and some fooled even my own children.

Sisters, ya think?

Liberty Skye, cooking enthusiast.

This eight year old girl fails to hit the limelight very often. She’s too predictable, too even-tempered, too behind-the-scenes. Lovely, edible, tasty scenes like the fudge cookies she made this week. Twice. Or the beer bread she mixed up and baked for a side to our soup the other night. Or cooking up a pot of oatmeal for breakfast. She’s quite the little chef these days. One of our chore cards says “Supper Chef’s Assistant”. Pretty sure I’m going to get that one in my pile one of these days. Got a recipe? She can handle it.

Grocery shopping, revamped.

Once every week and a half to two weeks, I go grocery shopping. Almost always, I go during the day with all the kids. We have a good rhythm, and things usually go fairly well. Lately, though, I’ve been less than pleased with how things have gone. Kids asking me to buy stuff, hiding in the clothes racks… it’s exhausting to keep all of that under wraps and still buy food for the week. So tonight, I took Sterling and Pierce and went after Blaine got home from work.

I left my Aldi bags at home and was left trying to contain cans and bags and randomness in one very wide open van. Without a trunk or anything to stop things besides the seat anchors, a can of olives can soar from one end to the other, multiple times, with some simple braking. It’s enough to make you cringe when the funnel from the back that was formerly next to the windshield fluid comes sliding and lands squarely at your feet in the front seat. Groceries need bags. Boxes. Both.

At Walmart. I needed deli meat and a key cut. Both counters close at 8pm. It was 8:05. Perfect. Got the other stuff on my list, got to the checkout… I’d left my wallet in the van. Really? I can do this with six kids with my eyes closed, but two kids has me thrown and unorganized?

So was the trip really worth not taking all the kids? I’m not convinced that it was all that much better, but Sterling and I had a grand time together. I bought him a little cherry pie, and he’s convinced it was the world’s best and biggest cereal bar and I’ve been holding back one of life’s pleasures.

Baby’s got skills.

He’s not so sure he’s impressed with the upright world quite yet, but Pierce joined the land of all things vertical this week.

Go, Baby Boy.

Next up: The land of wearing pants during waking hours. It’s overrated.

Goat naming.

The goats have names. Hezekiah, Lamentations, and Pearl join Snow, Coffee, Cream, and Munch in our barn of friendly goats. Those babies are the highlight of the day for the kids. Goat chores just got longer. Pretty sure it’s not just work that’s being done up there.

I picked the names Hezekiah and Pearl. I’m not sure where Pearl came from but Hezekiah is mostly just to hear Ruby try to say it. It’s stinking funny. She even giggles at herself.

Expert goat chaser, at your service.

The girls go to co-op early for dance practice. So as we’re on the porch waving good-bye as they drive away in a friend’s car, Ruby announces, “The goats are out.”

Really? Now? When the girls are gone and I have to take all four kids ages four and under up the hill to chase some stinky goats? After my shower, when I’m in good clothes? Of course. When else?

Sterling held Pierce (and then Charlotte knocked him over, so he’s laying flat on his back, hollering for help because Pierce was on top of him and he couldn’t get up. That was a sight.) and I started the foolish process of catching a goat that doesn’t want to be caught. One’s tame as can be, caught and back in his pen. The fence is fixed, and then, doing what I’ve found to be the best way, (because goats really like to get out, so this is a common occurrence, unfortunately) I chased the doe toward the big hay bale. In one giant leap, she’s on the bale, cornered, and all I have to do is grab her, pull her down, and put her away.

I’m starting to get good at this. That’s sad.

Rescue Sterling for his cloud gazing position on the lawn, tear Charlotte away from the new baby goat she’s determined to love on, and we’re back to normal. You know, our normal. I have a feeling we’re anything but everyone else’s normal.

FYI: The bed under the bed worked beautifully, and my handmade pull-ups are fully leak proof. Life just got a whole lot easier and my house gained 12 square feet.

Organization.

As a kid, I’d have said I was organized. My bedroom was always clean, just as my mother. I was good at keeping things picked up.

My children are good at putting things down. While some of them have neat-ish tendencies, give the lot of them ten minutes and a whole lot of mess can occur. No matter how hard I try, I do not have enough hours in the day to keep the house as neat as I’d like. School takes priority, and at the end of the day, while school is always done, the house doesn’t always speak well of our other accomplishments.

I’m on a cleaning binge. I’ve done the once, twice, three, and four times over, trying to find things we don’t need. Eight people in 1200 square feet fill it quite full, but there has to be a better way. Scrounging for blogs of people who have done this and thrived instead of succumbing to the clutter, I’ve found some great ideas. Today, after cleaning out my laundry room, we reorganized the kids room. For a while there, Sterling and Ruby were getting worried because neither of them had a bed left in the bedroom, but now…

Liberty’s in the top bunk. Charlotte’s in the crib. Eden’s in the bottom bunk. An extra mattress for Sterling and Ruby slides under the bunk bed during the day, out at night, and the room just grew by leaps and bounds. I lost two beds to store things under, so please don’t look in the closet just yet, but we’ve gone from a crib, two toddler beds, a set of bunk beds, and five dressers in a 12’x12’ space – and yes, it can be done, but it becomes strictly sleeping space at that point – to now, one set of bunk beds and the crib (and still five dressers) and a whole lot of floor space. It’s a beautiful thing.

Oh, and the changing table is in the laundry room. Formerly by the front door, I’m sure it greeted more than one unannounced visitor with eau de Charlotte. No more. I’m making progress!

What we found in the barn this morning:

One baby girl

and twin baby boys

makes three new baby goats born in our barn this morning – from two different does.

So, so fun! So far, Eden named one of the baby boys Lamentations. Charlotte just thinks they are a real live snuggle blanket.

This one’s for you, Dad.

After a discussion with my dad during which I realized I’ve done roughly 300 extra loads of laundry this year. About a year ago my two middle children quit wearing diapers – and I started doing laundry. Now, with plans to rearrange furniture… details to come… Dad suggested I make pull-ups of sorts. I haven’t bought them for various reasons, so I’ve just washed sheets almost every day for at least one dear child.

My latest project of the day:

Yes, I just posted photos of underwear on my blog. But tomorrow, when sheets are dry even if children are not, it will all have been worth it.

For the record, everything involved I had. Extra PUL for waterproofing, flannel scraps for the lining and soaker layer, and Blaine’s old t-shirts for extra absorbency. I didn’t use a pattern, and the first is rougher than the second. If they work well though, I’ll make a couple more. Talk about frugality!

Time’s up. Time in. Time out. Or something.

Our new chore cards are working wonderfully. The house is maintaining better than ever before. A good half hours’ warning is politely requested before dropping by… but we’re making progress. Overheard this morning:

“That’s your 10-minute speed clean, Ruby.”

“Well, Sterling, I call it my time-out.”

Ruby really likes the speed clean. Can’t you tell?

Supper prep conversations.

I stepped out of the kitchen while making supper, leaving Ruby at the realm. When I walked back into the kitchen, Ruby was coming out of the laundry room.

“I thought you were stirring this?” I said.

“I was, but I couldn’t for a minute. I was doing laundry,” she says as she throws the dryer lint away.

Precious, multi tasking three year old. I love you.

As Sterling saw me put brown sugar in the sloppy joes he asked, “Are you supposed to put that in there, or are you just doing that so that I’ll eat it?”

My dear boy. Equally loved, to be sure, but you are a goose.

Afternoon giggles.

Liberty woke up feeling the need for her fat pants this morning.

Or we got into a discussion about how I, in my high school years, tucked my shirts in but I never, ever do now… something about that post baby belly that makes that less than attractive. In went Liberty’s dress, into her leggings, and we got a giggle over the view of skinny Liberty with a less than skinny gut.

And then she wanted me to take a picture. To which, like any good blogger, I replied that I would – provided I was allowed to blog about it. She agreed.

You choose the scenario.

Pierce: 5 months

Tomorrow, this blue-eyed boy is five months old.

He gave me a fun short photo shoot this afternoon.

And then, he got bored.

Oops.

It happened. Ever since we got our new van, and every seat is no longer full, I’ve been counting heads before we leave in it. I used to just glance around… every seat with a head peeking up from it meant all was where it ought to be.
Today, headed to co-op in a mad rush because we were bordering on late, I got everyone in, bags in, lunch in, backed down the driveway about ten feet, and put the van in park to go get the sleeping baby out of his bed. Ouch.
Sterling, sitting next to Pierce’s car seat – his empty car seat – didn’t seem to think it worth mentioning that Pierce wasn’t in there. Pierce is in a rear facing convertible car seat, so until I did my mental, “Buckled Charlie. Buckled Ruby. Sterling’s there. Eden’s there. Liberty’s there. Pierce… oh no, Pierce!”
And yes, I looked around to see if anyone was watching. We live in the country… but still, the vision of me backing up, stopping, heading back into the house, and coming back out with the baby… it was a sorry sight.
There you have it, dear friends. I so do not have it all together.
Pierce was in the doctor’s office for his four month checkup. Never mind that he’s flying toward five months at a rapid pace. He was 17 lbs. 2 oz. and 26.75 inches long. He’s by far my biggest for his age – as in, Liberty weighed about that much on her first birthday.
Next up: a four five month photo. Because he’s sleeping now – and I’ve learned to let sleeping babies lie. You know, except when you’re going somewhere. Then it’s good to grab the baby.

Friday morning honesty.

Someone asked me yesterday if I ever get overwhelmed. Asked during one of those moments when everything is going well, no one is screaming and it’s looking like I have it all together, I stumbled saying something like this.

“Oh yeah. But then you remove your emotions from the equation and just do the next thing.”

Emotions are tricky things. They cause me to sin, often, when it comes to my kids. Sure, we laugh, we love, we have a ton of fun together. But when it comes to things not going well and the emotions in those moments, sin usually happens. Since when does you not having your shoes on right now have to be about me? But it does. I’m angry, you’ve sinned against me, you’re making me late.

You’re making me look bad.

Yep. All about me. Pretty pathetic, isn’t it? Somewhere along the line, I’ve learned – mentally, anyway – that if I step back and do the next thing, ignore the emotions running through my loud mouthed brain, I can get through the moment without adding my sins verbally to the situation. And one day, my brain might follow suit, do the next thing that needs to be done, and skip the selfish tirade that threatens to add itself to the situation.

Pursing Godliness. Thankful for His grace as I grow and those constant little reminders that I cannot do this on my own.

Hungry? You will be.

After very nearly taking out a sparrow on our way home last night, I said, “That bird was almost toast!”

“Oh, I get it. Because the window is so warm today,” said my new front-seat passenger, who is learning all she can on driving from her new vantage point.

Not exactly. So I set out explaining what “toast” can mean. The first thing that came out was “creamed”. Really? Are you serious? How many food references can one language take? And why on earth do I, in trying to explain one weird English word use, do I throw another one out there so that now I need to explain two?

I challenge you. Talk only in concrete verbs for a day. No weird English add-ons. It’s really, really hard.

You’ll be toast get creamed.

Insulated underwear.

Long story short(er), I had a disagreement over how many coats one dear daughter needs, I made a declaration that one church coat is adequate and the other, unworn yet this year, needs to be in the tote for next year. Since the well-worn, much-loved coat has been worn for, ahem, 4 winters now, it’s getting on the small side. I said to finish out the year with the much loved coat and then next year the other can be worn. Tears. Tears. More tears. After spending the afternoon thinking the tears were over the coat headed for the tote and then finding out it was over me having declared that the loved coat cannot be worn for a fifth winter, I asked, “Do you think if I still wore the coat I wore when I was your age now, would it be cute?”

Giggles. “No! It would be like a bra on you now!”

And just like that, there were no more tears. Except for me. I laughed so hard I cried.

Imagine:

The excitement around here when Charlotte woke up dry. With diaper rashes often a problem for Charlie, she’s run around bare bottomed a lot. I’ve dug out the potty but not actually tried to potty train her. Something about 16 months old sounds a little young to me.

But she was dry! I plopped her on the potty and, wouldn’t you know it, she peed. Hooray!

And then she pooped in her high chair. Excitement over. Hello, bleach.

Chores.

My kids have to help with chores. It’s accepted as life around here. But the motivation, the lists, the checking on their work, the forgetting – it was all about to drive me batty. Methods of reminding are constantly evolving though. I made morning routines. For a while, it worked well. The kids each had a paper with what their mornings should look like, and in theory anyway, it worked.

Until they forgot to read their morning routines. Or lost them. Or, or, or. So we made new and improved morning routines. A binder was discussed and scrapped.

Yesterday, we instituted Chore Cards. Each of the four older kids gets a refrigerator magnet containing their plan for the day. Basically, 3x5 cards with steps for the day on them. When that job is done, it goes into the basket for another day. When your fridge magnet is empty, you have free time until supper.

So far, very good. The house is picked up, chores are done and we’re all getting some free time. If they need a shower today, it goes in their stack. Homework for Sunday school or co-op? In today’s stack. All of their chores except for the animals outside got moved to after school, removing all excuse for a late start at school. Ten minute speed cleans, where they set the timer and pick up as fast as they can for ten minutes, are spread apart, each kid getting one at a different time of day so the house gets picked up more often, is keeping toy mess minimal. I like it.

My fridge got wiped out. The broken egg that Mr. Nobody broke is cleaned up. The cabinet doors are cleaned, and the toilet paper roll is restocked. And I didn’t have to ask a single question or remind anyone. If it’s in the basket, it’s done. If it isn’t, your lunch isn’t served yet. So far, so good. Ask me next week.

*If anyone is interested in the cards I made, I can send you the Xcel file. Attaching it here isn’t an option, I’ve found.

Ten.

Ten years ago, I was eighteen years old. I was new to the state of New York, having moved to Long Island to take a job as a nanny. I’d been placed there with an agency.

Two weeks after I started that job, I was having a hard time finding a likeminded church. A friend from my home state of South Dakota encouraged me to go to New Jersey to the church she’d grown up in and where her family still attended. I didn’t think much about it until my friend’s mother called and invited me to come, attend worship, and spend the day with their family.

Awkward, but how can you say no to that?

So I went. I got lost on the way there more than once, lost again on the way home, had a great day with that family but swore I wouldn’t do it again. Being lost in the Bronx was a little more than this farm girl could handle.

Two weeks later, I received another invite. I went. I got lost. I met a cop in Queens who, despite living in New York City, did not know how to get to the bridge to get out of it.

But eventually, I got there.

And then…

I met a man. Tall, blonde, in a three piece suit, twenty-four and ever so confident, it was, well, “You’re too old” at first sight.

But then we all spent the day together. His family and I, all at his house for the day, and by the time I meandered around Long Island long enough to find my way home again, I made the “He’s perfect. Now I need to find someone like that… 5 years younger.”

But that was Sunday, and on Tuesday he called and asked me to have supper with him. Somewhere along the line I got over the (gasp!) six and a half year age gap, and now, ten years later, we’ve been married for nine and a half years and have six kids. We’ve owned two houses, moved eight times, and loved and laughed our way through ten years together.

Guess what? We even get to have a date tonight.

Happy ten years, my dearest Blaine. Ten.

the darndest things

Eden used to say the funniest things. Usually it stemmed from speaking beyond her knowledge of vocabulary. Today, we went there again.

Looking through their photo books, Eden saw a photo of Ruby with our hamster. “Oh! There’s our ger-bil.” Hard G. No “j” sound. She frowned at me when I told her the g was soft. She still doesn’t believe me.

That was promptly followed by asking about a photo of her with a Dora and Boots in costume. “That looks like it was at a carnivore.” Carnival, carnivore… you know.

Turns out, all those funny things return as she flips through yesteryear.

Sterling wants to know why he can’t jump down our five steps like Liberty, Eden, and Ruby. I told him it was because he was scared.

“No I am not!” Sure, Dude. “Mom, maybe I should practice.”

“Okay.”

“I’m scared.”

“Yep, I know Buddy. It’s ok. I don’t want to jump that many steps either.” He decided to start small and jumped down, one step at a time. Poor guy.

Great news.

Great news. I have it all so together.

I just ordered prints for the first time since October 2010. You know, when Charlotte was a newborn.

On the bright side, my cart in Snapfish sat so long that the coupon codes saved me $21. Sweet!

I’ll catch up someday. Maybe. Probably not.

Time for a more masculine project.

I’ve been wanting to use this pattern for a while, but I couldn’t find wool at any of my local stores and hadn’t gotten the chance to trek across town to better stores. Complaining to Blaine about Hobby Lobby’s lack of wool material, he suggested cutting up his coat.

You know, the one that has been sitting in a tote for as long as I’ve known him? The one we’ve moved eight times and has just been waiting for me to get an itch to sew with wool?

Thank you, dear Blaine, for giving me the coat off your back out of storage that you didn’t want anymore.

Your boys look so handsome in it.

It was so fun to make something for the boys for a change.

And now, I’m imagining these in pink…

Waiting until after 7:30 am and the boys were fully awake (and, ahem, not still in bed…) might have given me less “deer in the headlights” – but what fun would that be?

Dumb bug.

Friday had four girls throwing up. Saturday had Momma wishing she would. Sunday it was Daddy’s turn and Charlotte went for round two. FYI: Do not feed a child hot dogs if there is even a remote chance of seeing it for a second time.

Sterling and Pierce are the anomalies around here. Sterling is pretty proud of his constitution right about now.

Can we be done now?

Mercies.

Just when I think God’s given me more than I think I can handle, He shows me mercy.

Pierce is napping in his own bed. Just this week, after fighting and losing and spending ridiculous amounts of money for D batteries since the swing was the only place he’d sleep, he started napping in his own bed. He’s up, he plays, he eats, he gets crabby, he gets laid down. He sleeps for 1-2 hours, and we start the cycle again.

It’s wonderful.

It’s also time to buy a sound machine. Because, while I loved country music as a teen, now, I love silence. Pierce does not. He sleeps far better with the radio on. But if I hear one more sad ballad from someone who I cannot tell to stop having a pity party to, I’m gonna scream. And yet, the radio just keeps on playing.

I’m thinking waterfalls. Rainforest. Anything but a guitar.

Sweet.

Every so often, I get a crafty idea. And thanks to the internet and people far more crafty than me, I can usually find a tutorial for whatever I can dream up. Someone before me has already thought of it, made it, took pictures of it, and gave me the measurements needed. It’s fabulous.

Today, I had an idea. I wanted to make myself some headbands. But, as it usually goes, my four dear daughters caught wind of the whir of the sewing machine and needed something of their own. And then…

the best idea I’ve had in a while was born.

Headbands, from this tutorial, and flowers from this tutorial, and something sweet for my babies.

Cute, right?

Once in a while, rarely so, my ideas turn out cuter than I imagine. Love these.

Sweet.

Many thanks to Grandma for her quilting scraps. Such fun.

It’s a ‘Girls Only’ club.

Yesterday, we had a fun day with no school, friends coming over for supper, and a little bit of cleaning before a lot of free time planned. And then…

at noon, Eden lost her breakfast.

By 2pm, Liberty lost her lunch.

Around 3pm, Ruby lost hers.

At 6pm, Charlotte joined the club.

We have a gender specific bug. All four girls threw up more times than I could count, neither of the boys got sick – and I’m still holding out hope that we’re done. Every twinge of my stomach makes me fear that I’m next. Everyone ate breakfast this morning. We’ll see!

We’re quarantined.

Why is it that just when the floors are cleaned and the laundry done and the house is company ready, a child loses her breakfast (and lunch and snack) and all plans are off?

So frustrating.

Nothing like a little demo.

Trying to teach Pierce to nap in his bed instead of on me. Crying it out isn’t my method of choice, but since informing him of his responsibilities isn’t working, it’s my only option. Pierce has the crying part down pat. But yesterday, when Blaine decided he’d had enough of Pierce’s crying in the living room, he put him to bed.

He didn’t even fuss.

Pierce: 1,254

Momma: 0.

I cannot figure this boy out for the life of me. But that two hour nap he took in his bed – I accomplished something right about then. Both in my house and, hopefully, in Pierce’s habits. Hopefully.

Liberty is impatient with my efforts to teach Sterling to read. Or maybe she’s just tired of Sterling’s hourly requests to be read to. Either way, she got out the phonics charts and decided to teach him herself. Her methods are a bit interesting, but Sterling likes the attention. I have a feeling she’ll get it done. Next up: teaching him to tie his shoes. For as many little children that I have, it feels like I taught Eden these things forever ago. It’s kind of fun to have another one enter the grand world of education.

Every six months or so, I leave the much-used mop in the closet and wash my kitchen on my hands and knees. Mops can only do so much, and a good scrubbing now and then does the floor wonders. Judging from the looks of my jeans when I was finished, I shouldn’t have waited so long. But the feeling of my bare feet on the floor this morning made it very worthwhile. And then my kids ate breakfast…

We had a dresser with every drawer falling apart. It was headed for the curb this morning, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to get it there after Blaine forgot it. The girls had fun with the drawers. Jumping on them made them fall apart – really, it didn’t need much help. I decided to push the dresser off of the porch and see if I could get it to fall apart so that I could carry it.

One push had it as flat as a pancake. The whole thing just flattened. It was the most fun I’ve had with a task in a long time. If everything were so obedient and efficient, I’d get a whole lot more done in a day! Nothing like a little demo.

Phonics with a four year old.

Sterling was sounding out three letter words in the beginning of our reading venture… we haven’t made it very far.

m…..e…..n…..

m…..e…..n…..

m…..e…..n…..

m…..e…..n…..

He wasn’t getting it.

“We call boys this,” I hinted.

“Dude?” he guessed.

Oh dear.

Umm… sure.

“Ruby, can you take your bloomers off, because we’re pretend cops and cops don’t wear bloomers?”

Nod and smile. Sometimes it just doesn’t have to make sense. Nod and smile.

In other news…

We’re down to just three vehicles. For a bit there, we were looking somewhat like a used car lot. With just two drivers, we had four vehicles and a total of seating for 30 in all of our cars. Really now.

One minivan gone, we now have the pickup, Blaine’s van, and our big new van. Which I love, in case anyone was wondering. I have yet to go through a full tank of gas to check gas mileage, so I’m living in happy oblivion and loving the space. Wednesday at the zoo, when I met a friend there that drives a van bigger than mine and also has six kids… there was a fun moment. Two giant white vans parked side by side in the parking lot made me laugh.

Every morning I put Pierce in the bouncy seat for his morning nap. Every morning he fights and hollers and gets redder and redder until he finally gives up and goes to sleep. He likes the swing so much better – but the amount of batteries we were going through was slightly obscene. Pierce has a temper like none other. In Sterling’s words, “Mom, he’s really, really red.” One of these days he’ll just go with the flow. Right?

My back is back to mostly functional. Turns out, abuse something for too long and it’ll protest and finally just give up. It’s a painful proposition.

Cow? Pig? Tastes like chicken.

Liberty came to me this morning. “Mom, what is that thing in the sink?”

I had a huge pork tenderloin thawing.

“It’s pork,” I said.

“Wow, that’s a big cow!” Liberty replied.

I’m talking to myself in this whole education endeavor, it seems. Back to school.

Every so often, my back fails at it’s normal functions and I’m slightly informed of what being old will feel like.

It’s gonna be miserable. Walking bent over, feeling a cane would be helpful, and being unable, despite best attempts, to stand up straight isn’t fun.

Carrying water to the goats is enough to make me want to cry. Carrying babies is nearly impossible.

My kids think I’m nuts. So do I. Me and the bottle of ibuprofen are necessary friends, and there’s no end in sight.

Back to my hot pad.

Happy birthday, Eden Rayne.

Eden’s seven. Seven. How did that happen?
It would seem that, just yesterday, she was tiny and sassy and saying the craziest things.
Today, she’s big. And sassy and saying the craziest things. Ok, so maybe less has changed than I think. It’s just crazy to think she’s seven.
For her birthday, she chose Andes Thin Mint Pie. Ice cream, chocolate, thin mints… it’s a fabulous combo that made headlines in our house… that one’s happening again around here. Mmm.
She got crocheting materials for her gift, among other things. I’m amazed how much I remember when I started trying to teach her. Turns out, it’s like riding a bike.
She’s learning quickly. Now that we’ve covered the proper pronunciation. That was a trip.