In reference to the post below, today for Science we did a review of our habitat and life stages. At the end of the review was a question. "What do you want to be when you become an adult?"
Answer? A Ninja Priest.
I think I've done my job for the day ;-) .
Showing posts with label The Joy of Boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Joy of Boys. Show all posts
Monday, September 24, 2012
Friday, July 13, 2012
Oh, Boys...
Tonight Mark comes home after being gone most of this week. The boys and I have kept ourselves busy, and we're all sufficiently exhausted from our attempts at making the time alone go faster. And, we were all doing okay until some point last night when, quite suddenly, all my patience, which I had been carefully rationing, had run out.
It was during the course of the morning when my weakness got the better of me. I often read Testerhome, about a mother who had five boys in a row, and definitely related to her recent sentiments. She questioned her ability to adequately mother five in a row--and why did God do this, when she felt that she wasn't cut out for the specific challenge it was.
The boys are loud. They roar at each other, and growl, and pounce. Their favorite games are 1) Chase 2) Wrestle 3) Swords. Often, 1,2, and 3 are done all at the same time--with a fair amount of growling and roaring thrown in.
I'm okay with this. They are sweet and mannered when they need to be, and when they are free to play, I deal with the boisterous behavior. Except for today. Today I'm not being a very good mother of boys. Without Dad here to circumvent the wrestling, to take on some of their activity level, my weaknesses get the better of me. I'm not sweet, patient or gentle. I yell, lose my temper, and say mean things out of frustration with their boyishness.
We find out very soon the gender of our new baby. As always, I am completely at peace with whatever God blesses us with. It was only today, after being frustrated, that I thought for a moment "What if...What if it's another boy...???" Not that I would be disappointed--absolutely not, but that I doubted my ability to be a good mother to a FOURTH boy in a row. It's understandable--This tired, pregnant, emotionally fragile woman without a husband for five days that can't keep up with the energy level of three little boys is bound to wonder what God would be thinking to send us another boy.
But then I checked myself. These attacks are not of God. I am weak and vulnerable and alone--a perfect recipe for self-doubt. These boys have a Mother and a Father. God didn't bring these boys to raise on my own, he gave them a Dad, too. A dad who was once a little boy and wrestled with his brothers, was loud and crazy, and can now share that with his three (maybe four??) sons.
We might be functioning on a "basic needs" basis today until reinforcements arrives. I might be making several more trips to the bathroom just to hear the faucet run instead of the shouts and hollers, but it's okay. Soon enough I'll be delighting in snakes, snails and puppy-dog tails again, and marveling at the affectionate sides of my sons, who will overjoyed to be once again with their Daddy.
It was during the course of the morning when my weakness got the better of me. I often read Testerhome, about a mother who had five boys in a row, and definitely related to her recent sentiments. She questioned her ability to adequately mother five in a row--and why did God do this, when she felt that she wasn't cut out for the specific challenge it was.
The boys are loud. They roar at each other, and growl, and pounce. Their favorite games are 1) Chase 2) Wrestle 3) Swords. Often, 1,2, and 3 are done all at the same time--with a fair amount of growling and roaring thrown in.
I'm okay with this. They are sweet and mannered when they need to be, and when they are free to play, I deal with the boisterous behavior. Except for today. Today I'm not being a very good mother of boys. Without Dad here to circumvent the wrestling, to take on some of their activity level, my weaknesses get the better of me. I'm not sweet, patient or gentle. I yell, lose my temper, and say mean things out of frustration with their boyishness.
We find out very soon the gender of our new baby. As always, I am completely at peace with whatever God blesses us with. It was only today, after being frustrated, that I thought for a moment "What if...What if it's another boy...???" Not that I would be disappointed--absolutely not, but that I doubted my ability to be a good mother to a FOURTH boy in a row. It's understandable--This tired, pregnant, emotionally fragile woman without a husband for five days that can't keep up with the energy level of three little boys is bound to wonder what God would be thinking to send us another boy.
But then I checked myself. These attacks are not of God. I am weak and vulnerable and alone--a perfect recipe for self-doubt. These boys have a Mother and a Father. God didn't bring these boys to raise on my own, he gave them a Dad, too. A dad who was once a little boy and wrestled with his brothers, was loud and crazy, and can now share that with his three (maybe four??) sons.
We might be functioning on a "basic needs" basis today until reinforcements arrives. I might be making several more trips to the bathroom just to hear the faucet run instead of the shouts and hollers, but it's okay. Soon enough I'll be delighting in snakes, snails and puppy-dog tails again, and marveling at the affectionate sides of my sons, who will overjoyed to be once again with their Daddy.
Monday, July 9, 2012
The Beast Within.
It's not very often I meet a mom who has kids that are like mine. There is nothing wrong with my boys, and they do try within their capabilities to behave, but they have a certain quality that sets them apart from a lot of other children.
Maybe it's because they're boys, or because they're mine, but seriously folks, they go in and out of stages where they are totally, and uncontrollably BUSY.
Remember this little guy? My sweet, most wonderful baby in the whole wide world? The boy stole my heart after I thought it had been wrapped up with the likes of the first two boys. This baby would put himself to sleep by bouncing in the bouncer, or sucking his thumb while laying down. MichaelANGELO, my angel baby.
Well friends, times have changed. He's still super cute, and we all just love him to pieces, but don't let that grin fool you. He's a terror of a toddler.
I've got him figured out pretty well. First off, he's a lot like my first son. He won't play with toys, and chooses instead to make it his mission in life to find any piece of electronic equipment he can get his hands on and press buttons until Kingdom Come. The remotes, phone, cell phone, computer keyboard, baby monitor, have no chance against his fingers, and by the time I can pry them out of his hands, are usually covered in dry applesauce or drool.
If I can get anything out of his hands, I'm lucky. What really gets us in trouble is when he flushes what he finds down the toilet. Honestly, we haven't had a free-flushing toilet in this house since the boy started to walk three months ago.
Yes, he keeps us on our toes. He is always a step behind us as we go along our daily life. If I'm emptying the dishwasher, he's throwing knives in the plastic bowl drawer. When I'm sorting laundry, he's throwing clothes out of the basket. When I sweep, he is scattering my dirt pile with the dustpan. The mimicry and messes are all part of how is he learning, but oh my, it is exhausting.
After several summer parties that were spent with either Mark or I chasing him before he ran off a dock into the water, or falling into a fire pit, I've quietly resigned that at this point, we're getting a babysitter for the baby, or I'd rather not go. The last time I made that resolution was with our first child, who was just as fearless of a toddler, and very difficult to keep track of. My toddler boys in a crowd are honestly a danger to themselves!
There are seasons for everything, and Michael won't be 15 months old forever. At this time he is a challenge, and by the next season, there will be a new obstacle to face, although I am hoping it doesn't include having to fish through the trash for bills that were thrown out by the toddler. We'll take them the way they are, and pray they stay safe and we stay sane as we care for these little ones who make us laugh with their delight, but worried sick with their every move.
Maybe it's because they're boys, or because they're mine, but seriously folks, they go in and out of stages where they are totally, and uncontrollably BUSY.
Remember this little guy? My sweet, most wonderful baby in the whole wide world? The boy stole my heart after I thought it had been wrapped up with the likes of the first two boys. This baby would put himself to sleep by bouncing in the bouncer, or sucking his thumb while laying down. MichaelANGELO, my angel baby.
I've got him figured out pretty well. First off, he's a lot like my first son. He won't play with toys, and chooses instead to make it his mission in life to find any piece of electronic equipment he can get his hands on and press buttons until Kingdom Come. The remotes, phone, cell phone, computer keyboard, baby monitor, have no chance against his fingers, and by the time I can pry them out of his hands, are usually covered in dry applesauce or drool.
Yes, he keeps us on our toes. He is always a step behind us as we go along our daily life. If I'm emptying the dishwasher, he's throwing knives in the plastic bowl drawer. When I'm sorting laundry, he's throwing clothes out of the basket. When I sweep, he is scattering my dirt pile with the dustpan. The mimicry and messes are all part of how is he learning, but oh my, it is exhausting.
After several summer parties that were spent with either Mark or I chasing him before he ran off a dock into the water, or falling into a fire pit, I've quietly resigned that at this point, we're getting a babysitter for the baby, or I'd rather not go. The last time I made that resolution was with our first child, who was just as fearless of a toddler, and very difficult to keep track of. My toddler boys in a crowd are honestly a danger to themselves!
There are seasons for everything, and Michael won't be 15 months old forever. At this time he is a challenge, and by the next season, there will be a new obstacle to face, although I am hoping it doesn't include having to fish through the trash for bills that were thrown out by the toddler. We'll take them the way they are, and pray they stay safe and we stay sane as we care for these little ones who make us laugh with their delight, but worried sick with their every move.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Big(ger) Boy!
Today my oldest baby turns six years old!
Didn't I just write his fifth birthday post? It feels like it.
This summer has been a turning point for our boy who has been quickly growing out of five. He's not really little anymore, but he can't quite keep up with the big kids yet. He's transitioning, and the transformation has been a gift to witness. This young man, still confined to his childish body, is a problem-solver, an adventure-taker, a boy determined to be like his dad, but still clings to Mommy at the end of the day when all the toughness has worn off.
When he was born, I had a hard time those first few weeks. He was the same then that he is now--unable to be satisfied with anything except for the new and exciting. As a newborn, he was never content to sit or sleep or eat or look. At only a few days old, I already knew that my firstborn was anything but typical, and quickly learned to adapt his environment to be creative, stimulating, and educational.
But still, it was very hard. That first year with an especially demanding infant was a breaking-in of the selflessness that would be required later on. "You jiggle and sway me through the apartment all day now, Mom," the baby Luke said to me with his demands, "But when I'm two and need to do jigsaw puzzles all day, or when I'm five and need to play outside for hours on end to satisfy my curiosity, you won't think it's so bad, you'll just be used to it. You'll do what you need to do."
And so, year after year we've done this dance of me trying to keep a step ahead of this precocious boy. Each year I've loved him a bit more for who is, understood him better, and have been ever more thankful for the blessing he is and the God-given gifts he has been given. I'm not sure what his future holds for Luke, but I can be sure it is something exciting.
Happy 6th Birthday, Luke. We couldn't be happier or more thankful for our son. You keep us high on our toes, and our hearts warm with your love and affection. Even if we dreamed it, we couldn't come up with a better version of YOU. You've changed our lives for the forever better, and we love you more everyday.
Didn't I just write his fifth birthday post? It feels like it.
This summer has been a turning point for our boy who has been quickly growing out of five. He's not really little anymore, but he can't quite keep up with the big kids yet. He's transitioning, and the transformation has been a gift to witness. This young man, still confined to his childish body, is a problem-solver, an adventure-taker, a boy determined to be like his dad, but still clings to Mommy at the end of the day when all the toughness has worn off.
When he was born, I had a hard time those first few weeks. He was the same then that he is now--unable to be satisfied with anything except for the new and exciting. As a newborn, he was never content to sit or sleep or eat or look. At only a few days old, I already knew that my firstborn was anything but typical, and quickly learned to adapt his environment to be creative, stimulating, and educational.
But still, it was very hard. That first year with an especially demanding infant was a breaking-in of the selflessness that would be required later on. "You jiggle and sway me through the apartment all day now, Mom," the baby Luke said to me with his demands, "But when I'm two and need to do jigsaw puzzles all day, or when I'm five and need to play outside for hours on end to satisfy my curiosity, you won't think it's so bad, you'll just be used to it. You'll do what you need to do."
Happy 6th Birthday, Luke. We couldn't be happier or more thankful for our son. You keep us high on our toes, and our hearts warm with your love and affection. Even if we dreamed it, we couldn't come up with a better version of YOU. You've changed our lives for the forever better, and we love you more everyday.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Sentiments.
Someday, when he's older and raised; when he's done crawling in on stormy nights and no longer needs help getting pants buttoned or shoes tied...
Someday, when all I have left is gratitude for the opportunity to raise a son, I want to remember him this way...
As the little boy.
Someday, when all I have left is gratitude for the opportunity to raise a son, I want to remember him this way...
As the little boy.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Lost.
I hope by now you have no doubt that I love my sons. Really, I do. There is fine line though, here in Minnesota, when it is really time for winter to be over, and in theory it should be spring. We should be out riding bikes and enjoying the white turning to green. But it doesn't come. There is still snow, the boys get rambunctious, I get bored, and brain cells disintegrate.
My boys, while young, are smart kids. And I love these guys. Still, I am left to wonder, on these days while the seasons transition, if their brains got lost during on the axis tilt.
I have the occasional scenario where I walk into a room, see something mildly dangerous occurring, and proceed to sneak out and wait for the disaster to transpire instead of stopping it dead on. Don't judge, but sometimes explaining why something is dangerous isn't nearly as effective as a boy actually experiencing physical pain from his poor judgment.
Lately, we've had a lot of these scenarios. I blame it on the snow, and the icy driveway, and let's be honest...my disdain for this white March. Come on, boys, it's time to start hurting yourselves outside!
I've been on a search for the missing boy brains in the house after witnessing such events as my five year old standing on the coffee table with my size 8 women's rollerblades. He intended to rollerblade off the coffee table onto the couch. Said rollerblades were another problem when I had to explain why walking up a 17-step flight of stairs with enormous rollerblades on was a poor decision.
Speaking of uncarpeted staircases, have you ever zipped yourself up with your brother in a sleeping bag and rolled down a wood staircase? If there isn't blood, it can't hurt that bad, right?
We have a plumber in the house today, and bicycle in the basement. That covers the adventures for the morning. In the meantime, we are feasting our eyes on the blinding snow, hoping that what goes for a watched pot that never boils doesn't apply to the grass underneath the snow.
My boys, while young, are smart kids. And I love these guys. Still, I am left to wonder, on these days while the seasons transition, if their brains got lost during on the axis tilt.
I have the occasional scenario where I walk into a room, see something mildly dangerous occurring, and proceed to sneak out and wait for the disaster to transpire instead of stopping it dead on. Don't judge, but sometimes explaining why something is dangerous isn't nearly as effective as a boy actually experiencing physical pain from his poor judgment.
Lately, we've had a lot of these scenarios. I blame it on the snow, and the icy driveway, and let's be honest...my disdain for this white March. Come on, boys, it's time to start hurting yourselves outside!
I've been on a search for the missing boy brains in the house after witnessing such events as my five year old standing on the coffee table with my size 8 women's rollerblades. He intended to rollerblade off the coffee table onto the couch. Said rollerblades were another problem when I had to explain why walking up a 17-step flight of stairs with enormous rollerblades on was a poor decision.
Speaking of uncarpeted staircases, have you ever zipped yourself up with your brother in a sleeping bag and rolled down a wood staircase? If there isn't blood, it can't hurt that bad, right?
We have a plumber in the house today, and bicycle in the basement. That covers the adventures for the morning. In the meantime, we are feasting our eyes on the blinding snow, hoping that what goes for a watched pot that never boils doesn't apply to the grass underneath the snow.
If we're lucky, when Spring has Sprung, so will a remedy of common sense for the cooped-up boys suffering from Cabin Fever.
We can hope.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Following the Leader.
Maybe my children will be leaders. I hope so, at least. For the moment though, they are "followers." Followers of their mother.
I give the boys a lot of attention. A LOT. I mean, I'm there for everything, and then nod my head enthusiastically when they tell me about Lego Helicopters, their dreams about polar bears, and which Hot Wheels car is the fastest. But then, when I excuse myself to use the bathroom, change a dirty diaper, or to change a load of laundry, the pitter-patter of little feet follow me.
They follow me everywhere. It gets really tricky sometimes, because if I haven't thrown myself together before they are up and at 'em, I'm really at a loss for the day. There I am, trying to maneuver deodorant and toothbrushing, while the boys are digging through the bathroom drawers, making stacks of the toilet paper rolls, asking me to cut the crust off their toast, button their pants, and load their Nerf gun with arrows.
It gets crazy. Sometimes I get frustrated. They don't seem to follow anyone else around, but apparently changing the sheets on my bed warrants a pow-wow in the middle of the mattress, and a trip to the basement to retrieve decorations for spring must be a united effort.
Getting frustrated doesn't help, so I try really, really, REALLY hard to be patient. I pray for patience every day, to enjoy these little guys, and especially to love their littleness and curiosity. I also try to wake up as early as I can to get as much done before the morning routine of absolute chaos begins.
The oldest one doesn't seem to want the kisses and hugs he used to. One day he won't ask me questions continuously while I wrestle with my contacts in the morning. My middle babe won't always need me to hold him close for several minutes in the morning and after nap, so I try to enjoy these moments, even though those first minutes in the morning and after nap times are the busiest of the day. And the baby has a special radar that no matter how early I wake up, he just knows and has to join me on my hip while I swiftly prepare the coffee and attempt to be a step ahead of the game before kids come trampling down the stairs.
For an introvert, I've basically given up on being alone in the house. It used to bother me, and it might have even depressed me at an earlier time--really needing that quiet time. I still need quiet time--time for reading, prayer, and reflection, but it just comes differently. Maybe now 6am isn't too early? Maybe nursing a baby with a prayer book in hand will do? Maybe the morning dishes can wait and we can all take advantage of baby's morning nap?
For now, the kids are at my side--sitting on my lap as I type, asking questions as I chop vegetables, and making a royal mess as they go from room to room along with me. It still bothers me sometimes, especially when I'm short on sleep or help, but it's for now it's life.
I have three little gentlemen following me around wherever I go.
What an honor. :-) .
EDIT* I love it when a seasoned mother writes authoritatively on something I'm newly discovering. Elizabeth Foss does it again!
I give the boys a lot of attention. A LOT. I mean, I'm there for everything, and then nod my head enthusiastically when they tell me about Lego Helicopters, their dreams about polar bears, and which Hot Wheels car is the fastest. But then, when I excuse myself to use the bathroom, change a dirty diaper, or to change a load of laundry, the pitter-patter of little feet follow me.
They follow me everywhere. It gets really tricky sometimes, because if I haven't thrown myself together before they are up and at 'em, I'm really at a loss for the day. There I am, trying to maneuver deodorant and toothbrushing, while the boys are digging through the bathroom drawers, making stacks of the toilet paper rolls, asking me to cut the crust off their toast, button their pants, and load their Nerf gun with arrows.
It gets crazy. Sometimes I get frustrated. They don't seem to follow anyone else around, but apparently changing the sheets on my bed warrants a pow-wow in the middle of the mattress, and a trip to the basement to retrieve decorations for spring must be a united effort.
Getting frustrated doesn't help, so I try really, really, REALLY hard to be patient. I pray for patience every day, to enjoy these little guys, and especially to love their littleness and curiosity. I also try to wake up as early as I can to get as much done before the morning routine of absolute chaos begins.
The oldest one doesn't seem to want the kisses and hugs he used to. One day he won't ask me questions continuously while I wrestle with my contacts in the morning. My middle babe won't always need me to hold him close for several minutes in the morning and after nap, so I try to enjoy these moments, even though those first minutes in the morning and after nap times are the busiest of the day. And the baby has a special radar that no matter how early I wake up, he just knows and has to join me on my hip while I swiftly prepare the coffee and attempt to be a step ahead of the game before kids come trampling down the stairs.
For an introvert, I've basically given up on being alone in the house. It used to bother me, and it might have even depressed me at an earlier time--really needing that quiet time. I still need quiet time--time for reading, prayer, and reflection, but it just comes differently. Maybe now 6am isn't too early? Maybe nursing a baby with a prayer book in hand will do? Maybe the morning dishes can wait and we can all take advantage of baby's morning nap?
For now, the kids are at my side--sitting on my lap as I type, asking questions as I chop vegetables, and making a royal mess as they go from room to room along with me. It still bothers me sometimes, especially when I'm short on sleep or help, but it's for now it's life.
I have three little gentlemen following me around wherever I go.
What an honor. :-) .
EDIT* I love it when a seasoned mother writes authoritatively on something I'm newly discovering. Elizabeth Foss does it again!
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Happy Habits.
A few months ago I read the Book 7 Habits of Highly Effective Families, by Stephen Covey. I won't do a review of all the habits here; only one that I found to be worth noting on right now, and that is the need for families to establish traditions.
We all think of traditions as what we do on Christmas Eve, or an annual summer picnic, but I liked what Covey said about making the seemingly mundane a tradition. Some families have a family game night, or a movie night. The author wrote that for some families, a weekly trip to a bagel shop, or making a special meal is a great tradition.
My college roommate had a family in the double-digits, and their lives amazed me. They all got to Mass at 6:30am every morning and the whole family sat down for an actual breakfast afterward before dad went to work. This same family had a Friday night tradition of ordering pizza and watching old black and white films, and a Saturday tradition of date night for mom and dad. I wish I could be a fly on the wall in their home now as a mother instead of as a naive college student.
We are still working on traditions in our male-dominated domain. Our boys are just getting to the ages that they are able to remember birthdays and holidays of previous years, and are able to expect a routine. We are trying to establish their memories rooted in the traditions we are creating with the hopes of being a strong and effective family :-) .
One of our mundane, but special, traditions are our Saturday mornings. We call them "lazy Saturdays." Instead of rushing to get dressed, fed, and on to our day, we take it slow. Mark and I take the coffee carafe in to the living room and visit with each other while the kids sit and listen or play cars at our feet. It's so small, yet, we've come to expect that on most Saturdays, before 10am is sacred time for our family. It's the first time in the busy week that we are all able to sit together and not be thinking about washing dinner dishes, giving evening baths, or preparing for the next day's work.
And while the above tradition is special to us, as I thought about other traditions we have, like book reading, family prayer, Mass and brunch on Sundays, having music in the background of our days, and making the effort to include our family for learning experiences, while they aren't huge and elaborate, Covey says that they make a huge impact on thriving families. That is my hope. (*EDITED TO ADD: the first sentence of this paragraph has 63 words in it. I usually blog early in the morning. Have I mentioned I'm a morning person and have the IQ of lawn furniture after 8pm? Forgive me, it's late.)
I am curious to hear about the small, but special traditions that other families keep. Going out to lunch? Family bike rides? Campfires? Cooking together? I love all of it, and hope that we can all find Grace in the day-to-day.
We all think of traditions as what we do on Christmas Eve, or an annual summer picnic, but I liked what Covey said about making the seemingly mundane a tradition. Some families have a family game night, or a movie night. The author wrote that for some families, a weekly trip to a bagel shop, or making a special meal is a great tradition.
My college roommate had a family in the double-digits, and their lives amazed me. They all got to Mass at 6:30am every morning and the whole family sat down for an actual breakfast afterward before dad went to work. This same family had a Friday night tradition of ordering pizza and watching old black and white films, and a Saturday tradition of date night for mom and dad. I wish I could be a fly on the wall in their home now as a mother instead of as a naive college student.
We are still working on traditions in our male-dominated domain. Our boys are just getting to the ages that they are able to remember birthdays and holidays of previous years, and are able to expect a routine. We are trying to establish their memories rooted in the traditions we are creating with the hopes of being a strong and effective family :-) .
One of our mundane, but special, traditions are our Saturday mornings. We call them "lazy Saturdays." Instead of rushing to get dressed, fed, and on to our day, we take it slow. Mark and I take the coffee carafe in to the living room and visit with each other while the kids sit and listen or play cars at our feet. It's so small, yet, we've come to expect that on most Saturdays, before 10am is sacred time for our family. It's the first time in the busy week that we are all able to sit together and not be thinking about washing dinner dishes, giving evening baths, or preparing for the next day's work.
And while the above tradition is special to us, as I thought about other traditions we have, like book reading, family prayer, Mass and brunch on Sundays, having music in the background of our days, and making the effort to include our family for learning experiences, while they aren't huge and elaborate, Covey says that they make a huge impact on thriving families. That is my hope. (*EDITED TO ADD: the first sentence of this paragraph has 63 words in it. I usually blog early in the morning. Have I mentioned I'm a morning person and have the IQ of lawn furniture after 8pm? Forgive me, it's late.)
I am curious to hear about the small, but special traditions that other families keep. Going out to lunch? Family bike rides? Campfires? Cooking together? I love all of it, and hope that we can all find Grace in the day-to-day.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Little Victories.
Speaking of projects, since Mondays are reserved for putting away mounds of laundry and digging around in the fridge for what made it through the weekend, we kept things pretty light yesterday.
On my list, however, was getting some toys out of sight and out of reach. It's not that we have too many, or that they have mismatched pieces and are junky. No, I like toys quite a bit.
Toys are going because they aren't being played with. It's a happy amazement to me that the more children you have, the less toys you need. These babes much prefer playing with one another and trying to keep up with the older one than playing with some rattle or a singing nursery-rhyme clock thingy. (Nothing against nursery-rhyme clock thingies.)
Indeed, my ten-month old won't play with any toys, unless you count the remote or my cell phone. Michael is much too consumed with keeping up with his older brothers to pay any mind to the toys sitting on the rug.
Scratch that. There is one thing Michael can play, although it's really more mimicking. And that's "vrooming cars." Complete with sound effects, the baby moves toys and objects around like the big boys. I tried really hard to capture this on my camera, but I couldn't quite capture the humor of Michael "vrooming" around this bottle of Miracle Grow.
On my list, however, was getting some toys out of sight and out of reach. It's not that we have too many, or that they have mismatched pieces and are junky. No, I like toys quite a bit.
Toys are going because they aren't being played with. It's a happy amazement to me that the more children you have, the less toys you need. These babes much prefer playing with one another and trying to keep up with the older one than playing with some rattle or a singing nursery-rhyme clock thingy. (Nothing against nursery-rhyme clock thingies.)
Scratch that. There is one thing Michael can play, although it's really more mimicking. And that's "vrooming cars." Complete with sound effects, the baby moves toys and objects around like the big boys. I tried really hard to capture this on my camera, but I couldn't quite capture the humor of Michael "vrooming" around this bottle of Miracle Grow.
(I'm such a good mom, right!!)
We're not big Valentine's Day celebrators around here, but since the kids have so much fun with it, we made brownies for dessert tonight and bought fresh fish for dinner. And since I couldn't make up my mind on rice or pasta, I'm compromising with Orzo and making a risotto. (Have you ever made real risotto? Oh my goodness, the best!)
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Hey, Look At How Cute I am!!!
Blogger-abandonment guilt. Here's a gratuitous shot of my ever-so-drooly, but oh-so-happy baby. Nine months?!?!?!
Thursday, January 12, 2012
While I'm Here.
Hey friends,
As I posted before, we are super busy with the closing on our old house, the closing and renovation of our new house, and the day-to-day upkeep with the kids. Life doesn't like to slow down, does it?
I just wanted to pop in quickly and ask all of your prayers for our baby. He is getting tubes put in his ears tomorrow, and while it's not heart surgery, it's still an ordeal for us since he has to go under anesthesia and refrain from nursing for several hours. I'm a little worried about him getting upset about not being able to nurse through the night and morning, which he is accustomed to doing. We just hate to take away what comforts him and puts him to sleep!
The little one can't sleep or hear with all the fluid stuck in his ears, so we are very much looking forward to the results of the procedure. Thank you!!
As I posted before, we are super busy with the closing on our old house, the closing and renovation of our new house, and the day-to-day upkeep with the kids. Life doesn't like to slow down, does it?
I just wanted to pop in quickly and ask all of your prayers for our baby. He is getting tubes put in his ears tomorrow, and while it's not heart surgery, it's still an ordeal for us since he has to go under anesthesia and refrain from nursing for several hours. I'm a little worried about him getting upset about not being able to nurse through the night and morning, which he is accustomed to doing. We just hate to take away what comforts him and puts him to sleep!
The little one can't sleep or hear with all the fluid stuck in his ears, so we are very much looking forward to the results of the procedure. Thank you!!
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Variations on a Theme.
The past two weeks have been interesting. All the three boys contracted a nasty chest cold that left them with fevers and coughing. All through the night the boys were waking from their coughs and needing medicine to reduce their fevers.
And then there's the baby. He was struck with his first double ear infection and antibiotics. He was, after all, worthy of the antibiotics since he had been sick for over a week and wasn't getting better.
Combine the sickness with daylight savings and....
....WHAM!!
NO SLEEP!
Between the coughs, fevers, and ear fluid causing infection, daylight savings caused an already sleep-deprived family to new levels of...well, depravity.
Last night was the kicker. The baby woke, as he does, and I fed him. Then, even though it was only 3am, I laid him back in his crib to hear a symphony of babbles, bubble blowing and growling. It went on, and on, and on. I did the only logical thing a mother in my situation could do, which was to nurse him to his heart's content until he fell asleep. The only problem is that nursing that much has a tendency to cause projectile spit-up and wet jammies and sheets.
You see the picture I'm painting, right?
Anyway, it was well after 5am before the baby was back sleeping. Half dreaming and half awake from the endless baby noises, I had the distinct thought that if a child were raised in the jungle as the famous Man Child was, he might, in fact, sound like the baby did last night. He does his fair amount of growling, after all.
My thoughts then wandered and I wondered, if a child were raised by a pack of wolves as opposed to a tiger, perhaps he might howl instead of growl. We hear about children who we suspect may have been raised by a pack of wolves, but I have yet to see any headlines. My baby growls, and my older two do have a tendency to behave like wild animals on occasion, but I'm afraid I have to bear (Ha! Pun!) the responsibility for that one.
Come on, boys, Pop Tarts for breakfast!
And then there's the baby. He was struck with his first double ear infection and antibiotics. He was, after all, worthy of the antibiotics since he had been sick for over a week and wasn't getting better.
Combine the sickness with daylight savings and....
....WHAM!!
NO SLEEP!
Between the coughs, fevers, and ear fluid causing infection, daylight savings caused an already sleep-deprived family to new levels of...well, depravity.
Last night was the kicker. The baby woke, as he does, and I fed him. Then, even though it was only 3am, I laid him back in his crib to hear a symphony of babbles, bubble blowing and growling. It went on, and on, and on. I did the only logical thing a mother in my situation could do, which was to nurse him to his heart's content until he fell asleep. The only problem is that nursing that much has a tendency to cause projectile spit-up and wet jammies and sheets.
You see the picture I'm painting, right?
Anyway, it was well after 5am before the baby was back sleeping. Half dreaming and half awake from the endless baby noises, I had the distinct thought that if a child were raised in the jungle as the famous Man Child was, he might, in fact, sound like the baby did last night. He does his fair amount of growling, after all.
My thoughts then wandered and I wondered, if a child were raised by a pack of wolves as opposed to a tiger, perhaps he might howl instead of growl. We hear about children who we suspect may have been raised by a pack of wolves, but I have yet to see any headlines. My baby growls, and my older two do have a tendency to behave like wild animals on occasion, but I'm afraid I have to bear (Ha! Pun!) the responsibility for that one.
Come on, boys, Pop Tarts for breakfast!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Sept. 1st.
The leaves are already turning and falling from the trees. *Sigh*
Was summer really this short?
Out come the boxes that will soon be filled with too-small summer clothes and emptied of the warmer hand-me-downs.
Goodness, gracious that's a lot of long-sleeved cotton!
Was summer really this short?
Out come the boxes that will soon be filled with too-small summer clothes and emptied of the warmer hand-me-downs.
Goodness, gracious that's a lot of long-sleeved cotton!
Monday, August 15, 2011
Oh my.
We were going to be thankful for having a quiet, restful weekend at home. We were going to relax, get some work done, and not pack a suitcase for the first weekend in a long time.
Did it happen?
Not quite.
But, we are still very, very thankful.
Why?
Because Luke's grandpa is a surgeon.
Thanks, Poppy!
Did it happen?
Not quite.
But, we are still very, very thankful.
Why?
Thanks, Poppy!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Overheard.
Luke-isms
"Mom, did you know that some paleontologists have wives?"
"Mom, can I have Michael for my very own?"
"Mom, my wife is going to be more beautiful than you, and more beautiful than Paul's wife, too."
"Mom, I wish that all kids and adults could do whatever they wanted all the time."
"What would you wish to do, Luke?"
"I would eat treats all day long. And I would never get fat."
Have a nice day, everyone.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Boys and Food.
A few sayings overheard this weekend.
From a newly-turned two-year old, just learning to talk: "More cracker and hummus, please."
From Daddy to the newly-turned two-year old: "Okay Buddy, is the food in your mouth gone? Okay, now take another bite. We have to teach you how to eat so you don't have to spit out all of your food."
From Mom to the soon-to-be five year old: "Please don't kiss the baby when I'm trying to nurse."
The almost five: "Can I have more chicken, please?" Mom: "It's fish." Him: "Yeah, fish is my favorite chicken."
The five: "Is it time for a protein shake?" Two: "Protein shake?"
From a newly-turned two-year old, just learning to talk: "More cracker and hummus, please."
From Daddy to the newly-turned two-year old: "Okay Buddy, is the food in your mouth gone? Okay, now take another bite. We have to teach you how to eat so you don't have to spit out all of your food."
From Mom to the soon-to-be five year old: "Please don't kiss the baby when I'm trying to nurse."
The almost five: "Can I have more chicken, please?" Mom: "It's fish." Him: "Yeah, fish is my favorite chicken."
The five: "Is it time for a protein shake?" Two: "Protein shake?"
Thursday, May 19, 2011
A Mouther.
I've called Poison Control a lot. Like...ten times? And seriously, I got so embarrassed about calling 911 to ask for Poison Control that the direct number not only made its way to the refrigerator, but on speed dial of my phone.
The funny part of this is that of the numerous times I've needed Poison Control, it's always the same child who has been the culprit, and wouldn't you know it, it's not the current difficult one.
Yes, Luke, our oldest, is what I'd like to call a "Mouther." A "Mouther" since birth, it wasn't uncommon that I would nurse him for two or three hours on end. I was always frantically picking objects off the floor knowing they'd end up in his mouth (or diaper), and there were many toys that while recommended for ages 3+, I knew that if the pieces fit in his mouth that they'd inevitably be in his mouth.
I imagine that most parents have called the Poison Center for common occurrences like their child eating the toothpaste (check!) or eating more than one vitamin (check!).
But, has your child eaten a dishwasher tablet (check!), or taken a bite out of your favorite Mr. Clean Magic Eraser (check!)?
Has your four year old bitten through one of those fun glow-in-the-dark necklaces on the way home from a Halloween party and appear to be radioactive? (check!)
Our little woodchuck is soon to be five, and he still puts everything (EVERYTHING) in his mouth. It's not uncommon for us to remind him during the day to take his shoe out of his mouth, a block, to stop licking the doorknob, or to stop biting his toenails. I could go on, but you get the idea.
Maybe you have a child who has similar uncontrollable urges, say, to lick a dollar bill from the till at McDonlads. It's alright, I won't judge. I won't even make that grossed out germophobe face.
Promise.
I will probably laugh though.
The funny part of this is that of the numerous times I've needed Poison Control, it's always the same child who has been the culprit, and wouldn't you know it, it's not the current difficult one.
Yes, Luke, our oldest, is what I'd like to call a "Mouther." A "Mouther" since birth, it wasn't uncommon that I would nurse him for two or three hours on end. I was always frantically picking objects off the floor knowing they'd end up in his mouth (or diaper), and there were many toys that while recommended for ages 3+, I knew that if the pieces fit in his mouth that they'd inevitably be in his mouth.
I imagine that most parents have called the Poison Center for common occurrences like their child eating the toothpaste (check!) or eating more than one vitamin (check!).
But, has your child eaten a dishwasher tablet (check!), or taken a bite out of your favorite Mr. Clean Magic Eraser (check!)?
Has your four year old bitten through one of those fun glow-in-the-dark necklaces on the way home from a Halloween party and appear to be radioactive? (check!)
Our little woodchuck is soon to be five, and he still puts everything (EVERYTHING) in his mouth. It's not uncommon for us to remind him during the day to take his shoe out of his mouth, a block, to stop licking the doorknob, or to stop biting his toenails. I could go on, but you get the idea.
Maybe you have a child who has similar uncontrollable urges, say, to lick a dollar bill from the till at McDonlads. It's alright, I won't judge. I won't even make that grossed out germophobe face.
Promise.
I will probably laugh though.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Humility.
There were many parenting books that I read with out first son. I thought he might be a strong-willed child, or maybe I just wanted to be equipped in the event that he was. The parenting strategies we used with him worked marvelously, and aside from being a busy-body, wiggle-worm, our discipline routine worked well.
I was often perplexed at other parents explaining the discipline issues with their children. Their kids threw such big tantrums that they had to leave places. Their kids hit them, kicked them, refused to sit in the high chair, or threw themselves into dangerous situations. Their kids screamed when they didn't get their way and more or less ruled the household.
At the time, I couldn't figure it out. My first born has had one tantrum, and it was, respectively, a few weeks after bringing home a new baby. He was three. "Why can't parents get their kids under control.?" I wondered, "Why aren't they disciplining their children?"
Um. To all those parents out there: I'm sorry. I get it now.
In the last three weeks I have had more physical battles with my two year old than I have had in nearly five years of motherhood. I have heard hours of screaming tantrums, have endured objects thrown across the room, feet and hands hurling toward anything or anyone that they can hit. I've seen a child truly out of control with me seemingly not able to do anything about it.
I mistakenly thought that my first born was strong-willed, but girlie, you ain't seen nothing yet!
So, we are redirecting. What we did with one is NOT working with the other. Our gears are shifting from child training methods to trying to understand better the way our son ticks. Because really, there can be no training if a child is hysterical. We need to try and understand our sweet second born, to get into his head and better cope with his outbursts and anger.
Do you have a child like mine? Many of the qualities that these children have are considered to be highly valued in adults. They are leaders, fight for justice, and aren't afraid to stick to their guns and stand up for their beliefs. Their intensity, when properly channeled, can be applied to success in their lives. As a consolation, I often like to think of the Greats of Science, Arts, and Athletics. I like to think about Lance Armstrong as a child, or the challenges that the parents of Apollo Ohno faced trying to curb his intensity into something productive.
I imagine that Michelangelo could have been an explosive, strong-willed, and spirited young man. How could he not be? He spent twenty years of his life hanging upside down from the ceiling painting the Sistine Chapel. His marble statues are as close to perfection as I've seen. As a child, I can picture that his mind was solely occupied on one task at a time, and that any interruption couldn't be tolerated--not from mother, not from anyone.
There are countless examples of Greats throughout history that display qualities uncommon from average folks. Edison, Pasteur, Mozart, Galileo, Da Vinci, Ben Franklin, St. Thomas Aquinas, and hundreds of other authors, scientists, athletes, and thinkers.
I'm not necessarily planning on raising a musician or a sculptor, but I DO need to have an effective way to get from here...to there.
Two books have come highly recommended to me on this issue. They went into my Amazon shopping cart today!
The Explosive Child
Raising Your Spirited Child
And, to all of those mothers who give me consoling smiles and encouraging looks as I maneuver my way through embarrassing social situations, I realize now that you get it, too.
I was often perplexed at other parents explaining the discipline issues with their children. Their kids threw such big tantrums that they had to leave places. Their kids hit them, kicked them, refused to sit in the high chair, or threw themselves into dangerous situations. Their kids screamed when they didn't get their way and more or less ruled the household.
At the time, I couldn't figure it out. My first born has had one tantrum, and it was, respectively, a few weeks after bringing home a new baby. He was three. "Why can't parents get their kids under control.?" I wondered, "Why aren't they disciplining their children?"
Um. To all those parents out there: I'm sorry. I get it now.
In the last three weeks I have had more physical battles with my two year old than I have had in nearly five years of motherhood. I have heard hours of screaming tantrums, have endured objects thrown across the room, feet and hands hurling toward anything or anyone that they can hit. I've seen a child truly out of control with me seemingly not able to do anything about it.
I mistakenly thought that my first born was strong-willed, but girlie, you ain't seen nothing yet!
So, we are redirecting. What we did with one is NOT working with the other. Our gears are shifting from child training methods to trying to understand better the way our son ticks. Because really, there can be no training if a child is hysterical. We need to try and understand our sweet second born, to get into his head and better cope with his outbursts and anger.
Do you have a child like mine? Many of the qualities that these children have are considered to be highly valued in adults. They are leaders, fight for justice, and aren't afraid to stick to their guns and stand up for their beliefs. Their intensity, when properly channeled, can be applied to success in their lives. As a consolation, I often like to think of the Greats of Science, Arts, and Athletics. I like to think about Lance Armstrong as a child, or the challenges that the parents of Apollo Ohno faced trying to curb his intensity into something productive.
I imagine that Michelangelo could have been an explosive, strong-willed, and spirited young man. How could he not be? He spent twenty years of his life hanging upside down from the ceiling painting the Sistine Chapel. His marble statues are as close to perfection as I've seen. As a child, I can picture that his mind was solely occupied on one task at a time, and that any interruption couldn't be tolerated--not from mother, not from anyone.
There are countless examples of Greats throughout history that display qualities uncommon from average folks. Edison, Pasteur, Mozart, Galileo, Da Vinci, Ben Franklin, St. Thomas Aquinas, and hundreds of other authors, scientists, athletes, and thinkers.
I'm not necessarily planning on raising a musician or a sculptor, but I DO need to have an effective way to get from here...to there.
Two books have come highly recommended to me on this issue. They went into my Amazon shopping cart today!
The Explosive Child
Raising Your Spirited Child
And, to all of those mothers who give me consoling smiles and encouraging looks as I maneuver my way through embarrassing social situations, I realize now that you get it, too.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Sometimes...
You have to take what you can get...
Wherever you can get it...
And worry about the consequences...
And the mess....
Much, much, later...
All for the sake of a little fun.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Dreams.
We've been some of the fortunate few who have entered our transient stage of life in the middle of a housing crisis. We've benefited by living in homes larger and newer than we've needed, while spending a lot less than we'd planned for.
Yes, lots to be thankful for. More bedrooms and bathrooms for our family to grow into.
But wait a minute on the bathroom part. Our last two homes have had three full bathrooms.
Never again.
My dream home will have two bathrooms. That's it. No more. I'm done at two.
The first bathroom will be mine. All mine, only to be used by me, and those who are guests in our home. It will smell like roses, have soft cotton towels, violins playing, and will be most lovely in every way a lady's bathroom ought to be.
The second bathroom will have rubber walls...
...and a urinal.
Yes, lots to be thankful for. More bedrooms and bathrooms for our family to grow into.
But wait a minute on the bathroom part. Our last two homes have had three full bathrooms.
Never again.
My dream home will have two bathrooms. That's it. No more. I'm done at two.
The first bathroom will be mine. All mine, only to be used by me, and those who are guests in our home. It will smell like roses, have soft cotton towels, violins playing, and will be most lovely in every way a lady's bathroom ought to be.
The second bathroom will have rubber walls...
...and a urinal.
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