Is It Friday Yet?

Oh, wait...Friday won't take away my troubles.

Is it Saturday, then?

Ummm...no.  Saturday will have no more success taking away the daily distresses than Friday had.

Sigh.

I guess I just need to hold on and hang in for the long haul.

In the mean time, I will pretend that Claude and I were not woken up sometime in the middle of night by a 45 minute tantrum.

No, it wasn't a night terror.  It was a full-fledged "I didn't get what I wanted so I'm going to scream as loud as I possibly can for as long as I can stand it to see if you'll give in" fit.

I will also pretend that the morning has not included another hour of screaming and outright disobedience from the afrementioned middle of the night tantrum thrower.

No, this child is not ill.  This child simply wants his/her own way.

Instead, I already took a few minutes to stand on our giant porch.  I listened to the birds chirping and the general calming sounds of nature.  Of course, I ignored the sound of cars racing down out little country highway and the smell of the trash cans that were sitting right in front of me.

I snapped the below photograph before heading inside.

This is the view from our kitchen window.  Green.  Crisp.  Spring.  Isn't it beautiful?

Now, I will poor a cup of tea and continue on with the morning routine as usual.

And wait for Friday in the hope that it will start off a better foot than Thursday has.

All Shapes and Sizes

After our firstborn, we kind of thought we had seen it all.  Super strong will.  Super intense personality.  Pushing the boundaries - discipline-wise and also academically.

As an infant he didn't sleep well at night.  In fact, he was two years old before he ever slept through the night.  The Lord humbled us very quickly with that first experience.

And, because He knows better than we do, God continues to humble us even today.

Until our fifth child, we never had a "runner".  You know, those kids that won't stay with their parent out in public?  In the blink of an eye they are across the playground, in the middle of the street, or lost in the crowd.

Four kids we have had.  Four kids who hold on to the stroller and stick by our side very consistently.  I have never had to chase a child down.  We haven't had any that run off just for the fun of it.  Quite frankly, they have probably been too afraid.  They like to stay within at least some of the boundaries placed around them.  :)

Until now.

Meet Rachel.

She runs.  She runs without regard to how far away she may get from the rest of the Crew.  No fear here.  She will now hold on to the stroller only because she wants to be like her older brothers and sisters.  Praise the Lord for years of training the older ones to stick together!

Not only does Rachel run, but she shrieks.  Yes.  I do mean shrieking.  This is not merely fussing or crying.  At birth she took a few minutes to let out a good cry.  We were a bit concerned until we heard it - the loudest newborn cry that graced our ears up to that point.  She continues to be loud.  I guess it's necessary being the fifth in line.  She won't get overlooked around here, that's for certain!

And, that's not all.  Rachel runs.  Rachel shrieks.  And Rachel hits.  When she gets angry she raises her hand in readiness to smack the nearest offending object.  Sometimes it's Jeremiah's head.  Sometimes it's even Daddy or Mommy's arm or leg.  No bounds does her temper currently know.

Lastly, Rachel throws.  She really does.  Upset that Mom gave you water instead of peanut butter?  Chuck the cup.  Angry that you have to go down for a nap when you would rather build with Duplos?  Chuck the nearest block.

She is fiery.  She is a fighter.  And she is learning that these outbursts are not appropriate ways to express her personality.

We thought we had seen it all.  Now the super strong will, intense personality, pushing the boundaries kind of kid is wrapped up in 23 pounds of cuddly Rachel goodness.  Although we have learned many valuable lessons with our other children, we are out of our reckoning...again.

You can have a handful of kids.  You can think you've seen it all.  But friends, you haven't.  We haven't.  No one has.

Let's be humble.  Before you go and judge that mother whose son runs into the parking lot at every opportunity, remember that you haven't seen it all.  Your kids just may not be runners.  Before you try and explain how easily you potty-trained your daughter, remember that your kid is not your friend's kid.  Your child may just have a knack for keeping her pants dry.  Before you launch into the best and only way for your neighbor's child to sleep through the night, preface it by saying this is just what worked for you.  It may not work for someone else.

Kids come in all shapes and sizes.  Their temperaments vary greatly even within the same family unit.  Their personalities, individual bents, and quirks are not duplicated in any other little person.  If you're like me, maybe it takes having several different children to really get this - not just to say it, but to really know it.  But if you're wiser than I am, which you probably are, learn it now.

All shapes.  All sizes.  One amazing Creator.  And a bunch of perplexed parents.  I guess we're in need of grace because there's no way we're going to find a formula with this kind of mess!

Snapshots: Camping

I'm not exactly the "funnest" mom on the block.  When it comes to special outings and little extras I just don't do very well. I enjoy spending time with the kids, but the days are full of meals, dishes, laundry, schoolwork, diaper changes, and discipline.  Of course, they are also full of cuddles, laughs, funny things the little guys say, and interesting conversations with the older crew.

In an attempt to be fun and spontaneous, I planned a little escapade for last weekend.  Claude was out at a 50K, camping overnight in the little van so as not to miss an early morning start.  I thought, why not take the kids camping while he was away?

Before you start thinking that I'm some kind of super mom, just check out our campsite.

Our very large toy room (soon to be occasional guest room) seemed like the perfect spot for our 9 person tent.  Of course, it had to actually fit.

Which it did.  Perfectly.

We started our campout with a rousing game of Memory.

The kids were bouncing off the walls (literally...if they could defy gravity they would have been up and down and all around the walls and ceiling).  The excitement was extreme, and they didn't even know that we were sleeping in the tent.  They were wired from a day of merely playing in the tent.

I went for easy, camping kind of food - hot dogs and frozen peas (still frozen) served in coffee filters.

*Note: Coffee filters are my new favorite way to serve everything from hot dogs and sandwiches, to popcorn and pickles.  Try them.  They are awesome.  Cheap.  Compact in the trash.  No washing necessary.

Next we enjoyed S'mores, which I made in the oven.  Half a marshmallow, two pieces of chocolate, and a two graham cracker halves.  The kids each had about three, but even with that their sugar intake was significantly less than if we had used full marshmallows and twice as much chocolate.

Everyone thoroughly enjoyed them.

Here are a few of the messy faces.

While the older three kiddos watched "Milo and Otis" (which, by the way, scared Abby immensely), I sat upstairs to monitor the little guys.  They did well, but boy did they blow a lot of raspberries before they finally conked out.  My lips were tingly and then numb just listening to them!

And then, before I knew it, everyone was sound asleep.  One was even snoring.  One claimed to have stayed awake the whole night.  :)

And then Rachel woke up three times in the night.

And then she cuddled with me on my mattress and we slept for a while.  And then she woke up, walked all over the tent, and brought things to drop on my head.  And then she toddled down the stairs with me at 5am because I finally caved and decided to give her a bottle of milk.

We slept beautifully after that.  :)

And then the morning came and with it the metldowns and grumpy attitudes I had feared.  Saturday was a bit rough and I was so glad when Claude walked through the door!

We had fun.  Made some memories.  And learned some rules about tent dwelling.  Now that we've had a practice run maybe we'll attempt a "real" camping trip!

I Want Butter!

Sometimes you just need some fat!

45 Minutes

 The morning was great.  We got up, made it through our morning routine, even read a few books with the little kids.  School time was smooth.  Everyone was in their places doing what they were supposed to be doing.  It was a good day.

12:05pm - Two children began throwing tantrums for different reasons.  I cleaned up Rachel from her lunch, attempted to put her in her bed and quickly realized that she needed a new diaper in a bad way.  Jeremiah walked in the room and it became obvious that he also needed a new diaper.  So I began the process.

12:15pm - Both tantrums persisted as I cleaned up the little guys' diapers.  Both messes were a bit bigger than I had anticipated.  Rachel needed a new shirt.  Neither diaper swished out in the toilet nicely.

12:20pm - One tantrum ceased, but the other ramped up as I rinsed out some pretty fowl cloth diapers.  It didn't take long to be literally elbow deep in some pretty mucky water.  Ewww...

12:22pm - Hannah comes through the front door, screaming, "Abby won't let go of the jump rope and I already asked her to!"  Oh, yes...this requires my direct attention.  Not.  I send Hannah back out to resolve the jump rope issue with her younger sister.

12:24pm - Still up to my elbows in diaper water, trying to keep Rachel out from underfoot, and Hannah enters yet again.  This time sreaming about ten times louder than the last time.  "Abby hit me with the recorder!"  Cry.  Sob.  Jump up and down.  Yep.  Another tantrum.  At least the tantrum from the other room had toned down to some moaning and groaning.

12:30pm - I look up to explain to Hannah that I cannot deal with the recorder/jump rope situation because my hands are covered in poopy water.  I see blood streaming down her face.  A blood nose.  Perfect.  I send Hannah to get some tissue.

12:33pm - The diapers are rinsed.  My hands are scrubbed.  The bath tub is bleached.  Hannah is still freaking out.  She runs in to find me and I send her right back to the bathroom where she started.  She leaves a drippy trail of blood through most of the downstairs.  My usual pregnancy heartburn rears a very ugly head about now.  Oh, well...no time for that.  I get the hydrogen peroxide, put Rachel in her play yard, and hope that this is over soon.

12:35pm - After cleaning the blood trail, I find Hannah standing over the toilet.  Screaming.  There is blood everywhere.  Her hands and arms are covered.  Her clothes are covered.  The toilet seat is covered.  Blood is splattered on the walls, the floor, the outside of the toilet, the sink, the mirror.  I'm glad I have the hydrogen peroxide and that I apparently have a strong stomach after working through those messy cloth diapers.  I start cleaning.

12:45pm - Hannah is clean and changing into fresh clothing.  Her nose is no longer bleeding.  The bathroom is clean.  The laundry has been rinsed with hydrogen peroxide to prevent stains and is in the washing machine.  All tantrums have stopped.

12:50pm - Three of the kids are playing play dough.  They are laughing as if none of them had thrown a tantrum, produced a blow out poop, had a blood nose, or beat up their older sibling with a recorder.  (Please note, the blood nose was NOT from Abby.  It happened all on its own.)  Rachel is in bed, not asleep yet, but on her way.  And the complaining from Tantrum-Thrower Number One has ceased.  Now it's time to dictate a spelling list, supervise violin practice, heat up lunch, and prod the preschoolers as they clean up the Duplos.

If ever you hear a mother or father with a few (or more!) small children in their constant care, this is what you should think of when they say things are "busy", "hectic", "crazy", "exhausting", "tiring", or "non-stop" at their house.  This can happen any time of day or night without warning, without due cause.  Things are running smoothly and then BAM!  Everything spontaneously combusts and chaos abounds for 45 minutes.

Okay...so on a good day it only lasts 45 minutes.  I won't even get into what a bad day can look like.  You're smart.  I'm sure you can imagine.

After you have imagined, then you can say a prayer for any parents you know who have a troop of little tikes at home.  You may just be praying at the precise moment that a blood nose, two tantrums, two incredibly messy diapers, some heartburn, and a few other urgent matters collide in one big train wreck.

These Days

At tthis point it has been several days since I wrote this post.  I wanted to put a link to kiviak and Inuits who go under the sea ice to collect mussels in the spring.  It's not going to happen any time soon and I want to push publish.  If you are interested in the diet of Inuit people try Google.  And if you don't care to know, then the link wouldn't have served much of a purpose anyway and I won't feel bad about not including it.

Okay...so here's what I wrote a few days ago...

I wrote this yesterday...didn't get around to publishing.  Between writing this in the morning and bed time last night I witnessed my children gathering mussels from  under the sea ice in the Arctic.  They fermented the mussels in order to make mussel kiviak.  I overheard Abby explain to her two-year-old brother how gums are very small when you're young and will get bigger and bigger as you get older until they are all of half an inch long.  Josua and Hannah spent their evening free time playing a homemade game about seeds - it came right out of the science text book.  I think this classifies them as nerds, if watching the imaginary tides until just the right moment to venture under Arctic sea ice in order to ferment mussels isn't already nerdy enough.

And how could I forget the hugs from Rachel?  She and Jer are the first of our kids to be so affectionate.  I am (sometimes literally) showered with hugs and kisses from them during the day.  If I wasn't a softy before having kids, I most certainly am now.  Of course, a bunch of pregnancy hormones probably has something to do with that.  Or not.

Maybe I'm just getting old.

Anyway...here's what I wrote yesterday...

There is a storm coming in today.  Right  now the sky is grey and getting darker by the hour.  The wind is starting to blow so that the trees on our property are swaying significantly.  It's the kind of day when I want to curl up under a blanket and read a good book.  But around here, there is no such thing as a "curl up on the couch" kind of day.  The activity levels are as high as ever this morning, which has proven to be both good and bad.

Today I was reluctant to get out of bed.  There are those days when I just don't want to do anything - not like doing nothing is ever an option.  As my feet drag, especially through the afternoons, I have discovered my coping mechanism.

Earl Grey.  Hot.  It smells good, it's decaf, and it is not chocolate.

We are having some friends over on Saturday afternoon.  As I was thinking of necessary preparations for their visit, I realized that we haven't mopped the kitchen floors since the last time we had people over.  That was sometime before February began.  Sweeping is done at least twice a day and usually three times, but no mopping in over a month?  This says a lot about my current housekeeping habits.

If you could see the clean laundry that resides on the floor in the master bedroom, you would also have a picture of how well I've been doing in the household management department.  Of course,  you should also look at the pantry, re-organized kitchen cabinets, and the fridge which is about to burst at the seems with pounds of newly cooked beans.  So, I suppose only some things are left to the wayside.  Mopping and putting away the laundry just don't rate around here.

While I'm on the subject of cleaning, I asked Joshua and Hannah if they would vacuum the upstairs today.  It's been even longer since that happened than the last time we took out the mop bucket.  My instructions were to be thorough.  They moved all of the large toys and containers out of the toy room, cleared out the underbed storage bins, and even attempted to move their clothing drawers.  My concept of thorough wasn't quite so, well, thorough.

The little ones have been rocking out to demo songs on the keyboard.  They're bottom-wriggling dances are quite funny.  And the laughter that ensues from a good dance session is priceless.

To wrap things up, I am feeling extremely pregnant.  Aches and pains I normally feel in the last few months have been with me for a while now.  I'm only 21 weeks.  The second half of this pregnancy may just feel like an eternity.  In addition, the first trimester nauseau persists.  I guess my body has gotten mixed up - the second trimester is supposed to nauseau and pain free - hello sixth pregnancy!  Or perhaps that should be, goodbye abdominal strength and general agility.

Maybe I'm just getting old.

This little guy is very active, though, reminding me of the reason for the discomforts.  While I can try and feel bad for myself, and for the first time think that pregnancy is really hard, the pity party can't last long.  We have had two in-depth ultrasounds in this pregnancy.  No complications, just a question about the due date and a routine mid-pregnancy scan.  To see such a tiny person (he was only 3 inches long the first time) wriggling around and putting his hands to his face was nothing short of amazing.

Aches, pains, nauseau, heartburn - none of it can compare to the awesome privilege of watching these kids grow up.  And if this little one is as active out of the womb as he is inside, we'd better be ready.  The Crew is about to not only get bigger but busier.  Much busier!

Tantrums Abound

Last week we had a couple of doctor appointments in town.  The kids did great sitting through everything, but after being in a waiting area or an exam room for three hours we were ready to go home.  Before going home, however, we decided to stop by Walmart.

Walmart, my least favorite place on earth.

Praise the Lord that our trip was uneventful.  Quick.  Smooth, even.  Until we got out to the van.

That is when I realized that I had locked my keys in the ignition.  Thankfully the van was not on.  I suppose if it had been I would have noticed before we had gone into the store that something was amiss.

There wasn't much to be done about the situation, though.  So, I called Claude to ask him to stop by Walmart after work and we set out to kill three hours.

We started our adventure by walking up the hill to Sam's Club.  After a round of hot pretzels and cold water from the soda machine, we began the Alphabet Game.  We walked the store, slowly (always very slowly) for an hour and a half and found the following items:

The rules were that we had to go in order and we could only write down items that we saw as we wrote them down.

Upon completion of the Alphabet Game we realized that Rachel had taken off and dropped both of her socks.  A game of Find the Socks ensued.

Once we had exhausted our options of productive occupation at Sam's Club, we headed back down the hill.  If you ever find yourself in Walmart with a few hours to spare and a handful of kids I would highly recommend locating the fish tanks.  From Chew Crew 1 down to Chew Crew 5, everyone was enthralled by watching the little fish flit around.  We stood there for at least 20 minutes without a single complaint.

And then the nagging began.  From an un-named member of the Crew, I heard "I'm thirsty" at least a million times in approximately 30 seconds.  I had already made very clear the water-drinking regulations for the afternoon.  Designated water stops mean more predictable potty breaks and preventable accidents.  In a family of many littles, this can make or break an outing.

The thirsty child knew when to expect another drink and was decidedly unwilling to wait.  It had to be on her terms and when I didn't budge, she began throwing a tantrum.

First it was just crying.  Then the crying became shouting.  The shouting then led to her sitting down in the middle of the aisle.  When that didn't get her a drink, she began screaming and shuffling next to the stroller on her knees.  This, of course, all started as the after work crowd was making their way through the store.  We had quite the audience!

By the time Claude arrived, she was in a full-fledged temper tantrum.

We decided that Claude would take the other four kids out to the parking lot while I worked with the tantrum-thrower.  Her screams had gotten louder, her nagging about water continued, and she proceded to throw herself onto the floor and wriggle and writhe so that a group of ladies came over and tried to sympathize...with her!

I'm so glad my back was already to those well-meaning women, because it meant that I didn't have to reply to their questions or comments.  I just kept on keeping on, requiring obedience and silence.  It was reasonably successful and we were nearly out of the store, when the nagging began again.

A second tantrum  was right on its heels.  At least this time we were in the privacy of our own car and I had some music to turn on nice and loud so the rest of us could attempt to enjoy the long ride home.

Eventually she stopped screaming...and fell asleep.  But before she did, I got a good chuckle.

"You're never going to make me stop my tantrum, Mommy!" she yelled.  "The more you tell me no water the more I will nag and nag and scream!"

At least we had gotten past all of the pleasantries and could see the beast for what it was: Just another sinful, selfish person trying to get her way.

Don't we sometimes throw the same kinds of fits?  They may be quieter, but I'm sure a four-year-old is not the only one who has ever lost all sense of self-control in the face of not getting what she wanted, when she wanted it.

I doubt she will be the last.  At least not in our Crew.

Boy or Girl?

For the past several weeks the Crew has been in an ongoing discussion.  Will Chew Crew 6 be a boy or a girl?

Last week we found out and now that we've had some time to celebrate with cake, we're ready to let you in on our little surprise.

To view this video in Vimeo use 2005ChewCrew.

 
Chew Crew 6 - Boy or Girl from Chew Crew on Vimeo.

State of the Nose

A few weeks ago Jeremiah fell and hit his nose on the frame of our couch.  Instead of rushing him to the doctor we decided to wait it out and see how things went for him and his nose.  Everything healed up well as far as we could tell and he doesn't seem to have any problems breathing through the nostril that took the brunt of the fall.

Here are some photos taken the first few days.  They do not come close to capturing the bruising.  It all looked worse in person.

The day he fell.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 4

Today

See that little bump on his left side of the bridge of his nose?  It's not just a shadow or some funny trick with the lighting.  He actually does have a lump there...for better or worse it's probably there to stay.  We'll ask the doctor about it whenever Jer has a well-patient check up, but for now it doesn't cause him any trouble.  Except that it looks a litlte weird.  Sorry, Jer...

 

Got Enough Kids?

I found this post in my "Drafts" folder.  The statement which sparked it was given to me the summer of 2013.  We were sweating out a hot, humid holiday gathering at our church.  I was noticeably pregnant, the kids were obviously tired, and we were attempting to get everyone's things gathered up and into the car.

Why comments like these come at times like that I have no idea.  Sometimes I wonder if a pregnant belly comes with a sign that reads, "Please make rude, unwanted, or just plain weird comments, especially when I am hot, sweaty, and ready to have the kids in the car."

And that is why I don't leave the house except on Sundays.  :)  Just kidding!  Kind of...I mean, I don't leave the house except on Sundays but it's not actually because of these types of comments.

Now, on to the post.

"So, have you got enough kids?" the gentleman asked me.


I fumbled through the few lame responses that I know are tucked away somewhere in my head, but came up short.  All I could do was smile, look in front of me at all four of my children, and smile again.  Updated to add: Now I would just laugh and say, "Apparently not, because God is giving us another!"

Where the question came from I can only guess.  Perhaps he was just curious about us.  Maybe he felt like he needed to say something and that was the first thing that came out.  Or maybe he can't quite imagine family life outside of the American norm - 2.01 kids, a dog, a cat, and a white picket fence.

Something in the delivery of that question, however, made me wonder if he has some ideas about family planning.  If so, I'm guessing that we have not followed any plans that would be deemed wise.  Apparently we have been foolish in this matter of having children - something that has been told to us before and that was when we only had one child and one on the way.

This man's question has been on my mind for the last few days.  So far I've constructed a simple response that I will file away in an easily accessible memory file.  I'm pretty sure our family will have more comments like this one, so I want to be ready.  That response is to smile, look at my children, and say, "I can't imagine life without any one of them."

Beyond finding an appropriate response to future statements, I have some issues with this idea of having "enough" kids.  To me the question implies that children are a commodity, an accessory to our lives.  We decide how many we want and when.  We set a limit on what is "enough".

The first is to do with contentment.  If we haven't had the number of children we desire, we are unhappy and potentially jealous of others who have the size of family we have planned for ourselves.  We may not be able to take joy in the life God has given us.  That might mean wasting away some special years as a single, with our spouse, or with our first (and maybe only) child.

If we find ourselves crossing our self-imposed line of what we can handle, then we run the risk of becoming bitter and resentful toward others - even toward our own children.  We may say something like this, "I wish I had stopped after just one.  Two is more than I can handle."  And do we think that our kids don't pick up on those attitudes?  They know that they are the "mistake" or the "oops" child that nearly sent Mom into panic and despair upon finding out she was pregnant again.

The second problem I have with the "enough" mentality is that by reducing children to a commodity of which we can have too little or too much, we are devaluing their very existence.  When it comes down to it, the value of a child is subjected to our current feelings on the matter.  If I've wanted a child for 10 years and finally conceived and birthed a healthy baby, that child is valued greatly.  On the other hand, if I find myself pregnant before my wedding day rolls around that child may not be as warmly received or as highly valued by me or by others.

God values children.  He doesn't think of them as a nuisance.  Neither does He place them on a pedestal.  He loves children because He is love.  And He loves people of all ages and stages just the same.

 
In Psalm 127 children are described as a "heritage from the Lord".  I know that many people who have convictions about not using birth control use this verse as a way of saying that everyone should live as they do.  I'm not here to make such conclusions.

What I do want to point out is that throughout Psalm 127, the value of children is made clear.  They are important.  They are a gift from God.  That value does not and should not change just because something falls outside of our "enough" boundaries.

If we truly value children, then we should find no trace of discontent or bitterness in regard to our family size. 

Whether God has allowed our family planning to be executed precisely on our schedule, we find ourselves mourning through loss of pregnancy after pregnancy, or we are reading that little plus sign just weeks after our wedding or when we already have an infant in the house, we would do well to be content with the way in which God has chosen to bless us.

 

Straight Lines

I am a product of the self-esteem movement.  At least I'm pretty sure that I must be, since I seem to feel terrible about myself unless I can find at least one thing at which I am proficient.

With complete assurance, I will tell you that parenting is not on my Feel Good About Yourself Because You're a Rock Star list.

If I could name a few things that might go on that list they would be as follows:

1. Changing diapers.  Yes.  I can change a diaper.  Any diaper, any mess.  I've got it.

2. Cheesecake.  I take no credit for this really, because it's my family's recipe and my dad taught me how to make it.  Now having a lot of practice, I can make a pretty good cheesecake.  Unless it's lumpy...

3. Sewing (relatively) straight lines.  Of course, I would prefer that you didn't look too closely at those straight lines because sometimes they're not so pretty.  My machine does a funny thing sometimes with the bobbin thread...and well, I'm not perfect.  But I can make one heck of a wash cloth!

See.  Parenting is not on this list.  Why?  Because parenting is complex and never-ending and requires a whole lot of selflessness (not to mention a heap of wisdom) that I just don't possess in and of myself.

The past couple of weeks have been particularly challenging.  One child is sneaking into snack foods.  This morning it was cocoa powder.  I guess since the "good" stuff is all stashed in out of sight and out of reach places, powdered chocolate seemed like a good alternative?  I think the immediate consequence was the shock of how aweful that stuff tastes without a ton of sugar.

Then there are the tantrums.  Yes.  Tantrums.  Hundreds of them from every age of child we have in our household.  Except the 1-year-old.  Keep that in mind because it holds the key to something I will say in a moment.

And can I just say that no one ever told Claude and I that we would need to talk with our 6-year-old daughter about dating?  Recently she got herself in a terrible pickle when some kid at Awanas (our church's evening program for kids) asked if she "liked" him and if she would be his "friend".

She said, "Yes," and "I don't know".  Apparently the kid swooned.  Literally.  We even had a demonstration.

Now, in the above case, this is when I am thankful for a firstborn who, even with relentless training and correcting, must interrupt any and every conversation within earshot, knows how to be rude, can be very hard to get along with, and loves to police any situation he can.  (Unless he's trying to police the cocoa powder, in which case he'd rather just have a taste.)  And I am thankful that the aforementioned firstborn is in the same Awanas class as his sister who is being pursued by blonde-haired, blue-eyed, Mr. Popular. 

Sorry...that was a bit of an aside.

As these situations present themselves, it has become increasingly apparent to me that when it comes to parenting I have absolutely no clue what I am doing.

And this is where I will make two points.

The first point is that sewing straight lines is a beautiful, therapeutic endeavor.  While parenting is a twisted, back-tracking, mangled mess as you wind your way through a dense jungle of attitudes, behaviors, and situations, sewing is the smooth, wide, and straight road that leads to sanity.  And it makes me feel good about myself.  See the self-esteem thing?

Case in point.  I sewed these wash cloths this week, along with three children's aprons, three pioneer skirts, and a pair of maternity jeans.  Thank you, Audrey, for the free fabric!

The second point that I would like to make is this: Everybody needs a 1-year-old.  Having a baby around the house who is super cute and cuddly, sleeps through the night (not really), and doesn't throw tantrums is amazing.  You'll feel great about your parenting automatically just by looking at the little tike and having warm fuzzy feelings each and every time.  See, there's the self-esteem thing again!

Case in point.  Rachel.  Just give her a bottle and/or a book and she's good to go.

And here's the third point.  I know, I know...I said I only had two, but I can't just leave it at that.

There is no job, no activity, no task that has ever humbled me so much as parenting.  It really does send me to my knees.  Or rather, the bathroom...because that's where I can lock the door.  *smiles*  And it causes me to seek God in His infinite wisdom, strength, and understanding.

So, in the midst of sneaking cocoa, throwing tantrums, and six-year-old dating troubles, you will find me asking for wisdom from the only One who has it to offer.

And you'll probably find me sitting at the sewing machine, taking deep breaths while I convince myself that I can, indeed, get up and do this all over again for at least the next 20 years worth of tomorrows.

The Cold That Kicked Me To The Curb

By God's amazing grace, I managed to miss out on all four rounds of the Great Stomach Virus of 2014-2015.  Managing morning sickness was pretty much enough for that stage of things, and I was so glad to not add other unpleasantries to the mix.

Been there.  Done that at least twice.  Not fun.  In fact, it's kind of like a cruel joke.

"So, you have morning sickness, do you?" asks the stomach virus.  "Well then, take this!"  And before you know it you are out for the count.

Aside from the Great Sickness, the kids have been sick with colds all winter.  Jeremiah and Rachel seem to get one every other week.  I'm pretty sure this comes from their time in the nursery with other wee ones who are getting colds on the weeks our kids are healthy.  They meet up on Sunday morning, swap some germs, and say "See 'ya later" until the next week, when they trade colds.

The Lord has spared me from these colds.  And I have been very grateful.

This past week, however, I finally succumbed to the milieu of germs that is our household.  Even while pumping my body with vitamin C, I still couldn't manage to keep this one at bay.  It hit like a ton of bricks on Friday night and I have been wiped out ever since.  Ugh.

Claude put it best when he said, "This one has been carefully selected by the kids."

Yes, it has.  After all the rounds of colds, the Little Crew has filtered out the weaker viruses and only the hardiest has survived.  Now this virus is kicking me to the curb...and boy is it hard to get back up!

Rachel and Jeremiah are sharing in the joys of the current illness.  They seem to take it better than I.  I've grown to be quite wussy in my old age.

Anyway...this is about as good as I have felt this week.

Obviuosly Rachel is not her usual self, either.  Or is she?

She really has been frowning since just moments after birth.  She has now had 15 months to perfect the frown, though.  She's getting better all the time!

In all seriousness, this is a terrible, no good, very bad cold.  Poor Rachel and Jeremiah.  I feel your pain.  But have no fear.  We shall prevail over this villainous virus.  Until the next time you go to nursery...

Broken or Not?

Right now I'm thinking not.

But maybe?

I guess we will see how it looks tomorrow when the swelling is (hopefully) down.

Heart Attack Moment

This little girl nearly gave me a heart attack a few moments ago.

Cautious is not really a word that I would use to describe Rachel.  The likes to keep up with her older siblings, doesn't mind falling flat on her face, and when she does she gets back up and keeps on trucking.

She has been trying to access the stairs for quite some time.  We usually have a safety gate at the top and the bottom of the staircase.  Both are meant to be locked whenever Rachel is awake.  When relying mostly on a 4-year-old, a 6-year-old, and a 7-year-old to close the gates it goes without saying that they are not always locked.

Anyhoo...I saw Rachel climb about five steps last month.  Then, in a horrifying split-second, I watched as she fell down the same steps.  I was too far away to catch her.  Scary.

This afternoon, while the older kids were playing outside, I was enjoying some toddler time.  Then I noticed Rachel was no longer in the living room.  Not hearing her in the dining room or kitchen, I headed to the stairway.

The gate was open.

And there she was.  Standing at the top of the stairs.

My heart nearly stopped.

Rachel, on the other hand, was as cool as a cucumber.

 

Lessons in the Kitchen

The kids cooked dinner last night.  Mostly.

I asked Joshua to head up a team to make waffle batter.  He is well prepared for such a task, having been a kitchen helper since he could stand on a chair.  He has about one year of experience making things on his own.  He can make pizza dough, bread dough (because it's really the same as pizza dough), cook bacon and pancakes on the griddle, and fry eggs.

The batter making process went smoothly and the kids even cleaned up after themselves as an added bonus.  I, however, was out of the kitchen so I didn't know all that actually went into the batter.  Neither did I know how much of everything went into the batter.

Come time to cook the waffles I noticed that the batter was a little too yellow, a little too thick, and a little scant.  I assumed that I had just forgotten how this particular recipe turns out.

The waffles cooked quickly and were a wonderfully crips golden brown.  They didn't seem to hold together like usual, but they looked great.

Then I tasted one.  It was rather salty.  In fact, it was salty enough and not quite as waffle-y as I expected from a tried and true recipe, that I began asking questions.

"How much flour did you put in?"

"Four cups."

"Okay, how much oil did you put in?"

"One cup."  (No one said waffles were healthy!)

"Okay, how much milk did you put in?"

"One cup."

"I think the recipe said 3 1/2 cups."

"No, it said three to one or two.  So we put in one."

"Okay...well, how much salt did you put in?"

"One and half teaspoons."

"Didn't the recipe say half of a teaspoon."

"Oh."

"Yeah..."

One third of the flour and three times the salt.  That's just how we roll sometimes.

Matching Games and Visual Learners

With everyone being sick on and off, the kids and I have been very much out of routine.  Sure, we have our meals at fairly regular times and bed time is generally on schedule.   But school...wait a minute.  What is school?  I think I have forgotten.

We have also had some major fallout in the attitude department.  I don't think the kids know how to talk nicely to one another.  When they try it sounds just as rude and mean as whatever tone of voice I tried to correct.  Somehow they will get there...hopefully.  The process, however, is painful and slow.

In an attempt to keep everyone on the same page and tackle the attitudes, I instituted a game day early in the week.  We built puzzles and played games all day long.  We practiced rejoicing with those who rejoice (instead of throwing a fit that your sister got ahead of you in the Ladybug Game).  And I corrected and corrected and corrected.

By Tuesday the kids had picked up on the game thing and were playing by themselves.  Now that the week is over I think we have built the same three puzzles about 5 times each, played the Ladybug game several times, learned Uno and played it a few times, and we have probably played a dozen or more games of Memory.

Well, it's what I knew as Memory growing up.  Now it is called Matching.  Apparently we don't want children to feel bad about their memories, so we put the responsibility on the tiles.   It's not that I didn't remember where the second tile was, it's that the tiles were not matching.

Anyway...back to the point.  If there ever was one, that is.

Hannah started out as the most enthusiastic Memory/Matching player.  She and I played several times while in Montana over the holidays.  Her excitement waned just a tad with each game because I would win.  Like, really win.  As in I would take the last 10-12 matches in one sweep.  Maybe I should have cheated and played dumb.

While she still wants to play most of the time, Abby has taken Hannah's place as the most zealous Memory/Matching player.  At least once a day she traipses downstairs announcing to her siblings, "I'm going to play a game with Mommy!"  Out comes the box, along comes the very long process of maticulously setting out each tile, and then we play.

And I win.  Every time.  But only by a small margin most of the time.

She doesn't seem to mind.  Usually she just laughs the whole time and says funny things like, "Oh, bummah!"

During one of our games, Abby said to me, "My brain is very smart, Mommy.  My brain has eyes in it.  They can see things and remember what they look like even when my real eyes can't see it."

If ever there was a description of a visual learner, that would be it - eyes in the brain to see things even after the image is no longer visible to your real eyes.

This strength in visual learning is a big reason why Abby does very well at the Memory/Matching game.  Some of the kids will see a tile and excitedly shout out, "Oooh!  Oooh!  That one is somewhere [points to about half of the tiles] over there!"

When Abby sees a tile that has a match she knows of, she smiles and says, "I know!  I know!  The other one is right [points to one specific tile] there!"  And she is right about 99% of the time.

For the time being, I am the undefeated Memory/Matching champion.  I have, however, met my match.  Soon, with those eyes in her brain, Abby will be winning.

I'd better be willing to pass on the title.  It is, of course, a game for preschoolers.

Wasabi Peas

Photo from https://www.lehivalley.com

Mmmm...wasabi peas.

Great for adults.

Not so good for 2-year-olds.

And how would I know?  Well, today in the midst of the older kids and I working on some projects Abigail, Jeremiah, and Rachel were keeping themselves busy.  When a 4-year-old is in charge, it's never a good thing.

First, they got into the locked bedroom and dumped out the entire, neatly organized container of hair ties.  We use those teeny tiny clear ones.  There were about 500 on the floor.  Ugh...  Oh, yeah...and they also opened Joshua's container of teeth that he has lost.  It's a little weird to be asking your young children where their older brother's teeth are as you desperately search a giant pile of hair accessories.

After the hair tie incident the Three Stooges managed to find my envelopes of neatly organized printed photos.  We have thousands of photos on our computer, but only a few printed out.  Today every hard copy we own was spread out over the floor...no longer organized.

And sometime in the middle of these endeavors, someone opened the bag of wasabi peas.  Joshua and Hannah were introduced to them last night and Jer decided he wanted to try them this morning.  I have no idea how many he ate.  What I do know is that he walked into the bedroom chomping on a mouth full.

"Aren't they spicy?" I asked him.

"No.  They just sting my tongue," he replied.

And now I know something else about wasabi peas that I wish I didn't.  I won't go into any detail, but I will say that I changed a lot of diapers this afternoon.

This parenthood thing will either give me a stronger stomach or mold me into an incredibly picky eater.

Life with the Little Crew

The Little Crew is enjoying dinner right now.  In an effort to not have children awake at 10pm, we are attempting earlier dinners for the youngest three with some staggered bed times until all of the kids (Lord willing!) are in bed by 8pm.  It doesn't always work out, but at least we're trying.

So, while scarfing down some spaghetti and salad, Jer and Abby are discussing the finer things in life - funny-to-them Bible names.

"Shem and Ham and Potatoes," Jer said.  "I like Shem and Ham and Potatoes!"

"Jer, those are not food names," I replied.  "Those are people."

And then Abby asked the question that must have been on each of their minds, "But why do people have food names?"


Last week Jeremiah looked into my eyes, and in a very serious tone, asked me, "Mommy, why are your eyes black?  Is it so you can see in the dark?"


Often Jeremiah comes to tell me what's on his mind.  His conversations usually go something like this:

"Mommy, I was sitting.  But I wasn't."

"I ate some apple.  But I didn't."

"I'm tired.  But I'm not."

Needless to say, there is usually some detective work to be done in order to figure out with part of his statements reflect the truth.


In other news, Rachel is learning to communicate more and more clearly.  She nods her head to say "yes", she grabs my hand and leads me all over the house to help her find things, and she sometimes says, "Yeah!"


Joshua just came downstairs.  Jer and Abby told him that they are having Dutch Babies (aka-Oven Pancakes or German Pancakes) for dinner.  This is a favorite of all the kids and to miss out would be a trajedy of epic proportions.  A bit distressed and perhaps feeling left out, Joshua came to complain to me about it.

"Mommy, Jer and Abby said they're having Dutch Babies for dinner.  Is that true?"

"Ummm...have you checked their plates, Joshua?"

"Oh."

You better believe the little ones got a good laugh out of that!


And before I go...

Abby: "Rachel has a little tummy."

Jer: "I have a big tummy."

Abby: "But not as big as mine.  Mine is BIG!"

They speak the truth...their tummies have now consumed, between the three of them, 5 helpings of spaghetti and meat sauce and half a plate of salad.  If they were truly eating Dutch Babies for dinner, they probably would have polished off half the tray by now.  Then Joshua would really have something to be upset about.

A Melody in My Heart

Each evening, Claude asks the kids what they liked or disliked about the day.  The answers vary depending on the child and their age.  For example, Abby went through a stage a year or two ago when she always said her favorite part of the day was going to the park.  It didn't matter if we went to the park or not that day, it was her favorite.

Now Jeremiah is in that stage of life.  His favorite part of the day is almost always riding the "Kettle Car" - Kettler Kettcar.  There are days when he doesn't even go outside, and yet he insists that's what he did and liked.

Today Hannah said that her favorite part of the day was church because she learned a new song in kids' church.  It goes like this...(Use 2005ChewCrew to view).

Sing a Melody to the King of Kings from Chew Crew on Vimeo.

Watching her sing this song reminded me of another time Hannah was singing (and swaying from side to side).  Makes me smile every time!  :)