Spencer turns 8!

Oh Spencer.  How have eight years already come and gone? Just a moment ago, I was saying "hello", I'm nearly certain.

Now you are tall and handsome. You are imaginative and smart. Still you remain an early riser (oh so very early), and move at your own pace. Rushing you never ever works. Ever. It's always your schedule. And usually that's ok.

You learned to ride a bike this summer. After trying for two summers, this year was different. You just *knew* how. Same with swimming. One day, you just went.

I'm learning to trust your instincts.

You never needed to learn how. You just know.

I love you dear boy. You're a joy. Yes, you've got a temper, but you're learning not to let it control you. You're learning all the time.

Happy Birthday, babe.

(His requests, strawberry cake with lime frosting and blueberries on top, homemade lemon/lime/orange ice cream and Chuck E. Cheese's. Weird kid.)

The Tale of Spencer's Extra Curricular Dilemma

When Henry started first grade last year, we decided after we moved and got settled that he could start some sort of extra-curricular activity. We settled on karate, and he's LOVED it. It's been good for him. He's an orange belt, and really does enjoy  the two nights a week he gets to "hiyah".

This year, before the official school year started, we knew that Spencer was ansty to start karate as well. Watching Henry many times over the last school year got him all excited. 

But, my mom-heart knew, that while Spencer might LIKE karate, he would LOVE a dance class. 

So, I started the great Google search in hopes of finding something that would be a good fit for him. 

Then... there is was! Perfection. A hip hop/tap class for BOYS only, ages 5-7. YES!

I gently brought up the idea of trying a dance class, which Spencer immediately dismissed. 

"No, I don't wanna do that!" 

So, a few days later, I asked him if he would try it, please. 

He finally relented. 

Derek and I were both torn. We didn't want to force him to do something he didn't want to do, but at the same time, we BOTH knew our guy love it once he gave it a chance. 

The same week he was to take his trial hip hop class, the karate studio was offering "Buddy week" which meant Henry could bring a friend to try a free class. Spencer was BEYOND excited, and I was worried our ship was sunk.  

I was resolute though: I was going to let him him choose. 

"I will let him choose," I repeated to myself, over and over. 

Whenever Spencer would declare (before attending either class) that he was pretty sure he was going to pick karate, I'd grit my teeth and try to stay silent. Sometimes I couldn't help myself, "Let's not decide anything until you've tried both," I'd beg. 

The night of the great karate class came. The next day would be hip hop.  So much excitement!!

Derek did the karate class run, and declared that Spencer definitely seemed to enjoy himself, and that every time he did a move correctly, he'd do a LITTLE DANCE. 

"I think I'm going to pick karate, Mom," he said enthusiastically. 

"Oh, okay, I'm glad you liked it," I choked. 

Finally, MY long awaited day arrived. He and I struck out to the dance studio. In borrowed shoes, he wiggled and tapped and did head stands, and all sorts of stuff I thought looked super cool. 

But, he was so stoic, throughout the entirety of the class, I couldn't tell if he was enjoying himself or not. It LOOKED like fun, but what did I know? 

Finally, he was finished and came dancing out to me. 

"Mom, if I choose dance, will you buy me my own dance shoes?" he asked. 

"I will." I promised. 

"Then, I want to do hip hop. It's so cool!" 

My heart sang. 

And he got himself dance shoes, and now, on Mondays, Henry declares, "I have karate tonight!" which then leads to Spencer declaring, "THAT MEANS I HAVE HIP HOP TOMORROW! YES!" 

Ha! Vindication. 

But I mean, come on, any class that has the kids doing (teacher-assisted) BACK FLIPS on the second day is guaranteed to please, right?

AND poor Henry said in response to watching one of Spencer's classes, "No one asked ME if I wanted to do dance." Poor kid. When I told him that he could choose dance or karate too, he replied, "Okay, when I'm a black belt, then I'll switch to dance." So... in about seven years? Great. Perfect. 

I'm relieved, not because he chose what I wanted, but because he went with what HE wanted. It would have been easy to go to karate because Henry already did. I wanted HIM to choose. The fact that he chose what I thought he would was just icing on the cake. He loves it. I'm happy he's happy. 

Dear Spencer,

Six years ago, you came slowly into the world. I should have KNOWN then that any baby who poked along as you did would be pretty easy-going. And now, here you are, the time has flown, and you are six, about to be a first grader. How???

I love you Spencer.



The night before, we did the decorating.



I was astounded at Spencer's care and work on his mini-cake. Cake Boss would be proud!



A room full of little BOYS decorating cakes was hilarious. Lots of frosting was used. LOTS.



Water games. It was SUPER cold. We all froze.



So fun! So chilly. Hose water + 70 degrees. BRRRR.



The kids loved cleaning the whipped cream off each other.



My first experience with fondant. Spencer wanted the ocean. NAILED IT. It wasn't impossibly difficult, but it wasn't super pretty either. It worked out fine. Thank you marshmallow fondant and YouTube.


Birthday singing!



Presents!!

Happy Birthday to my Spencer. At six years old you:

Are working on your piano skills.
Getting pretty good at reading.
Throw a fit every single time you're asked to clean.
Are a sweet big brother most of the time.
Love to play with super heros and guys.
Are not too terribly interested in learning to ride a two wheeler.
Are adored by your family.

Chicken Run

Chickens don't belong in houses. Baby chicks? Sure. CHICKENS, no. Just no.

Except it's still butt-cold at night here on our little hill, so we don't keep the chickens outside then. That and the coop is in six pieces.

So, my dashing prince of a husband made the run for them this weekend. It isn't QUITE finished, but close enough.



Each morning we gather the chickens out of the wire dog kennel in my dining room where they spend the night, carry them out-of-doors to their portable run and shove them in.

It's fool-proof, except when it's not.

We also have to stick a feeder and waterer in there because there aren't enough bugs in their limited "free-range" run to fill up the growing bellies of these fat girls.

And ^^^that is where we got into trouble yesterday.


After carefully flinging the girls under the run, we realized (by "we" I mean me, and five super helpful children) we'd forgotten the food and water.

No matter, just lift and stick.

Food in.

Water... water... "STICK THE WATER UNDER THE WALL OH MY GOODNESS. SPENCER!"

Then, little Pecky Becky who is Derek's chicken, ducked her little fat chicken butt under the tiniest little space and was suddenly a real-live-free-range chicken.

And she was gonna enjoy it. She.ran.for.it.

Thus began the chase of the century. Four children, running in all directions as that white poultry dodged them all. Miriam was SCREAMING at having been plunked rudely down in the grass.

"Stop chasing her! Stop!" I hollered.

No one stopped.

For a stupid bird, she was pretty smart. She headed straight for the woods. And my dear sweet children headed straight for her.

Well. Becky picked the prickliest, thorniest spot of our yard to hide.

Of course.

The boys were determined to rescue her from her fun. She wasn't interested.

After chasing her even deeper in the woods (oh the crying as they scratched themselves), they FINALLY realized that there wasn't anything to do but listen to MOMMY. LISTEN TO MOMMY.

Goodness.

Spencer went left, Henry went right, clapping their hands, to scare her away from heading up the hill over the stone wall and joining the wild turkey clan that resides up there.

Oliver began to cry again when I dare suggest that we wait until she decided to come home.

Finally that feather-brained dinner on feet realized that life wasn't that great in the wild (Luckily she's never seen "Chicken Run") and came on out, while the little boys clapped and clapped to scare her down the hill.

Eventually she wandered out and right up to me and cocked her head to one side as if to say, "Hey, don't I know you?"

"Yes you stupid bird! I'm your momma!" A slow chase ensued where Oliver headed her off and I grabbed her from behind. Clutching her to my side I lifted the run and shoved.

WOOHOO!

Miriam was rescued, grass dug out of her angry mouth. Oliver was STILL crying but about how scratched he'd gotten.

"Good morning, Mary!" I called to our only neighbor, who was enjoying her morning coffee on the porch, watching EVERY SECOND of our chase.

"Morning!" she called back jovially. She was laughing. Of course.

Then all into the house to start school.

Except I had lost Spencer somewhere.

A quick yard sweep showed he'd gotten himself completely stuck in the brambles. The harder he tried to free himself, the more stuck he became.

I saved him, never fear And my badge of honor is that I'm completely covered in scratches.

All because of Derek's chicken.

First Day of School!

So. I have issues. I have issues with how freaking EARLY schools start! My birthday is August 19th, and never once in my entire life did I attend school on my birthday. 

Ever. 

We're doing a K12 (free, online public school)  sort of deal with Henry and Spencer this year. I'm way excited about it, and so are they. All the curriculum, books, manipulative math stuff, etc came on Spencer's birthday, and it took until yesterday to get it all organized. 

And what else was there to do but START? It's sitting the shelves, they were dying to crack into it, and really, I need to use whatever enthusiasm I can squeeze out them! 

Today was, therefore, our first official day of school. 

I intended to take pictures, I really did, but it was a bit chaotic of  day with lots of things mixed into our school day, and so at the very end of the day, I remembered pictures and then Spencer was much too busy jumping on the trampoline to be bothered. 

So this is what I got:

 

I am the mother of a FIRST GRADER and a Kindergartener. I am overwhelmed with the duties ahead in the next year. There is a lot we're hoping to accomplish. And with two little brothers who are NOT keen to be ignored while I work through math with their big brothers, a baby girl coming any day who will be equally (if not more!) demanding of time and attention, I'm praying for help to make sure everyone gets what they need. 

Because NEED runs rampant around here. 

But I'm also grateful for the opportunity. Last year was... in a word... wonderful. I feel super confident in where the boys are as they start the year. We're ready to tackle new challenges, continue learning, yadayadayada. 

It's pretty great. 

Spencer is now FIVE!

Well, my Spencer is now FIVE.

I have been blogging long enough that every single of his birthdays (except the DAY of his birth...) has been recorded. Wanna see?
1
2
3
4
And now, FIVE. A whole hand. We are taking a deep breath and starting kindergarten. All his school stuff came in the mail today, actually. So, we are really actually doing it. We never really considered holding him back a year, he'll do great. But still.

Where did five years go?

As for his celebratory day? He dictated the day, minus having to clean up before the party. He would have happily skipped that part.

Spencer chose Taco Bell for lunch. When I tried desperately to change his mind, he was resolute. "We haven't been there in s LONG time, Mom." Sigh. Then I remembered MONTHS ago, on Oliver's birthday, Spencer declared that on HIS birthday he wanted Taco Bell.

Are you getting that we don't eat at Taco Bell?

Then he ate two Doritos Tacos. Ugh.

Anyway!

Then, the matter of his party. What mattered? Water games, swim suits, friends, family and ice cream cake.


The ice cream cake was non-negotiable.



And so, thus commenced the celebrating of  FIVE.



It was so fun.





It's humorous, living near family. Because his friends really are family (even those we're not *technically* related to) and so, I end up inviting child-less 20 (and 30) -something aunts and uncles who then happily come and celebrate hardcore right along side the kids.

It makes it fun for all.

Spencer had a great day, I hope. It's always my goal: Make my baby's birthdays special. Nearly seven years into parenting, we've got it down: a few gifts, let them choose their activity, some friends and family, and make sure there is good food.  It works. It works REALLY well.




(The party after-math. Oh my.) 

Now, our Spencer Recap. At FIVE years old Spencer is:
very handsome, if I do say so myself.
learning to read and super excited for Kindergarten
an excellent brother. He is sweet and loving.
loves Super Heros, Batman is still a favorite, along with Spiderman,
has a great imagination. He can turn anything into a toy, with a story.
likes to read books.
is a great eater. He's willing to try stuff I offer.
says super funny things without meaning to be funny.
still is a morning person. We've made some strides. MOST mornings he's quiet until 6... ok, some mornings.
can be incredibly unaware. Sometimes he just is so off in his own little world...
is very excited for his sister to come. :) (ME TOOOOOO!!!!)

We sure are thankful that our Spencer is OUR Spencer. He is his own man, and we adore him.

An Unexpected Morning Experience

This morning began at like 2am. Ezra was up A LOT in the night, not throwing up thank goodness, but still, up, fevered and miserable.

So, before six, when I started hearing little people move about, I was sad.

I sent them down to eat their cereal, and watch their PBS and I dozed and dreamed those bizarre dreams you dream when you're not really asleep.

And I heard Henry say, "OH, Spencer! That is SO STUCK! YOU GOT THE WRENCH STUCK ON YOUR FINGER!"

I knew that the course of my day had been decided without my consent.

Here's the thing: That stupid little wrench has been the bane of my existence for days. I take it away, they find it, and on it goes. I hide it, they find it.

I called Spencer up, trying to remain calm. However, when he appeared in my room, and sheepishly showed me his predicament, I knew we were screwed. The little nut-tightening end of the small wrench was indeed stuck on his finger. He'd clearly been trying to get it off for a while because the finger was already losing color and quite swollen.

I took him downstairs trying not to lose it entirely, and coconut-oiled his finger. NOTHING. It wouldn't budge.

Derek tried ice cold water. Nothing.

I got dressed, found the insurance cards and Spencer's shoes.

Derek tried taping his finger and sliding it off.

I found my purse and my keys.

Derek yanked.

I called it.

"Get in the car." I said. I was angry. Mostly I was angry because I was worried sick. His finger looked bad. And I was frustrated because the only thing I could think to do was take him to the ER.

Spencer cried. I strapped him in. "I just can't believe this Spencer! Honestly!" I huffed.

And we drove in utter and complete silence to the ER. My poor boy. I imagine the ride was awful and the fright of "What are they going to do to me?" was torturing him every minute. I drove.

We arrived at the perfectly deserted ER. At the Triage window, the kind receptionist, who couldn't see my kid over the counter said, "And what are you here for today?"

I lifted up Spencer's wrench-finger and simply said, "We can't get it off."

"Oh my," said she. "I don't even know how to put that in the computer. Just a sec!" Within just a moment, it was in the computer, and we were getting him assessed.

By now, I was feeling rotten for getting angry, so a hug and a kiss and an apology was issued, and we went forward with hope that all 10 digits would make it out of this disaster. 

The nurses were wonderful. Can I say that? They didn't give me a hard time. They didn't lecture my little buddy. They just saw we weren't messing around, and got right to work.

It took very tight binding of his finger, soap for lube, two nurses, a doctor and an emt, but they managed to twist it off his poor little pointer. He was SO brave. The nurses warned me, "When we get to the knuckle, it's going to hurt. He's going to cry." So we were both prepared.

Spencer, being ever stalwart and brave, did indeed cry out, but let them carry on, squeezing me and his new Blue Teddy the nice hospital staff had given him.



And can I just take a moment and say that I didn't know fingers could turn the colors his did and remain attached? It was horrifying. Gray, white, black, purple, HORRIBLE.

After what seemed to be an eternity but was really only about 3 minutes, he was free of the wrench.

The nurses rushed his poor abused finger over to the sink and rinsed it in cold water, and I texted Derek, "IT'S OFF!"

Amen. It's off.



Damn wrench.

They got my Spencer an ice pack for his finger, after noting just two little cuts (much better than it could have been), and loaded him up with a goody bag, told us to watch for bruising and more swelling and sent us on our way
. 

All ten fingers came with us.

We learned a valuable lesson today. NO SHOVING THINGS WHERE THEY DON'T BELONG.

All in all, a morning for the record books.

And people wonder why my hair is turning grey.

A True Story

Yesterday, the boys and I were hanging out in my room, while I was trying to put my shoes on.

At one point, a crazy kid turned on the TV in my room.

While being distracted by my phone being broken, I said, "TURN OFF THE TV!" I turned off my phone in an attempt to fix my phone. At the exact moment I turned off my phone, the TV turned off.

I figured someone had actually been obedient.

"Okay, everyone out! Get your shoes on your feet!" Little boys complied.

I turned my phone back on.

At the EXACT MOMENT my phone came on, the TV turned on again.

What.the.heck?

Somehow, I don't know how, my phone had become a REMOTE CONTROL FOR MY TELEVISION.

I couldn't in any way shape or form explain how such a miracle had occurred. Basically, my phone was magic.

I climbed off my bed, staring in wonder at my little mildly intelligent smart phone that now seemed to be capable of everything, ANYTHING. I looked out of my doorway, and there was Spencer.

Spencer, holding the tv remote smiling like a mad man.

Yeah. My phone isn't brilliant or magic.

And Spencer is a goober.

More of the Same

Well, I'd excite you with all the fascinating things we're into these days but frankly, we're doing the same stuff as yesterday...school, housework, playing outside and bikes. 

See?  Excuse the blue-ness, our house is blue, and it was evening. BLUE. 

Shirts, shoes, and pants are completely optional for post-dinner bike riding. Helmets are not.

Oliver is in need of a bigger bike. He has outgrown the trike. Sad. 

Spencer's personal style is ever-evolving. He couldn't find his helmet, so I made a very rare exception since we weren't leaving the driveway. But he did assure me that his head was protected by the hat. 

Thank goodness. 

Ah bike weather. We're just getting started. 

Nosy Kids Can be Nice

Henry and Spencer are EXCELLENT listeners. When I don't want them to be.

Isn't that fun?

Derek and I will have a conversation that we think is all hush-hush, and then one of them will walk up and say, "I heard you and Mommy talking about (insert random thing here)."

Derek's first line of action is to say to them, "DON'T LISTEN!"

We decided that wasn't an option we wished to perpetuate. I mean, beggars can't be choosers ifyouknowwhatImean.

So instead, we are learning to keep important, non-little-ears convos to after bedtime.

Other times, we don't even realize it's happening.

 Case and point: The other day Derek was saying how much he liked this funny kitchen thingy:

From Drop Box

But gosh wouldn't it be better if it had some measurement markings on it?

A while later I wandered back into the kitchen (I do that a lot. I'm HUNGRY) and found this:

From Drop Box

Yes, friends. Henry had overheard and taken it upon himself to add measurement markings to the weird, pour-y-spout-y kitchen cup thing. 

Thanks Bud. That will help SO SO much!  My baking will never be the same.

Nosy kids=awesome.

Can't NOT Post This

I have much to tell you! Ezra carefully tackling his birthday cake... a post about our Christmas project that I am INSANELY excited about. (OH MY GOSH!)... General musings about the trashed state of my home... you know, BIG stuff.

But all of that pales in comparison to the pictures I'm about to show you.

Derek took Henry and Spencer out on a mini-date and this is the souvenir they brought home with them:

From December 2011

From December 2011

That is all.

News from Spencer's land

From Drop Box

You know, as a parent I can be a complete dolt. I mean, REALLY. 

For his entire life, my Spencer has risen before the sun, or at least very near to it. Truly. He's slept past 7am maybe, ten times his whole entire existence. 

And for well over a year, he's been a grump. I don't mean ALL THE TIME.  But more than I liked. I thought it was because he was three. Oh three, it's so hard. 

I would put him to bed and he'd bounce off the walls until I was insanely angry for keeping his brothers awake. 

The boy had been up since 5:30. He was exhausted. 

And awake. 

So when we moved to this house, we moved him downstairs. KEEP YOUR CRAZY TO YOURSELF. 

Yes, that kept him from keeping his brothers awake, but it didn't usually cause him to fall asleep any faster. 

People, a lightbulb went on in my head. 

Put him to bed earlier. 

I mean, DUH! So, now, he's in bed by 6:30. 

And it's like magic. 

Less melt-downs. A happier boy. 

A happier family. 

Did I mention that I'm a dolt? 

When does this parenting thing get easier?

Anyone?

Spencer, who is FOUR!

I will mourn when some stinky kid tells him pink and purple are "girl" colors, and then his favorite color will change to blue.

From August 2011

He came to us at noon on August 3rd, four years ago. It was SO hot and his birth wasn't easy. But it was perfect.

We ate baked potatoes for dinner that night. We hosted a dinner party. He slept.

He has woken up between 5-6:30 every day of his life.

From August 2011

He is so funny and sweet and silly and imaginative. And so smart.
 He lives in other worlds. He is kind and fiesty.

From August 2011

He loves Jesus.

From August 2011

He has literally never eaten a food he didn't like.

His favorites are fruits (of all kinds) and doughnuts.

From August 2011

He wants to be Batman/Captain America/Cowboy when he grows up.

From August 2011

He might be slightly color-blind.

From August 2011

He is Ezra's favorite.

He is four.

From August 2011

He is very thoroughly my Spencer-man.

Goodness, I adore him. I am grateful that God sent him to our family.

Happy Birthday to my Spencer. We love you.

These Boys, They Kill Me

"Mom! You have to get this stuff called "Sheer Coverage." It covers all your speckles. If you don't like it they'll give you all your money back. It doesn't feel like anything! You have to call now."

"Um, Henry. What in the world are you talking about?" I queried.

"I watched the news this morning. It's called "Sheer Coverage," you need it!" Henry insisted.

At this point, I realized, he had watched a infomercial in the wee hours of the morning. He had big plans for me to beautify myself.

"Just call now, okay Mom? Okay?"
***

The past several nights, I have to sneak into Spencer's room and remove a super cape he's smuggled in. He firmly believes he's a super hero, and apparently can't dream appropriately without a cape. I don't want him to strangle himself, so I have to pull them off. I love his imagination. I hope it never fades.

***
Oliver has grown obsessed with a set keys to our little Toyota Corrolla. He takes them everywhere. He loves them. He calls them "cola keys." He also exclusively calls Ezra "Lee". We frequently call Ezra "Ezra Lee" and he just conveniently leaves off the "Ezra" part of the equation.
***

Ezra has been fighting me on using his binky. He's deciding he's not a fan. Let us pray this does not continue.

***

My babies. Oh my boys. How I love them.

A possibly inappropriate post

***Disclaimer*** I have no idea why poop and other such inappropriate fodder has made it's way onto my little corner of the interwebs with such frequency of late, but hey, it's my life. 

Our kids have learned "proper terminology" for all things "body related." We have our reasons for teaching them the words as they are,  and I won't bore you with the details.

Suffice it to say, my kids call it like it is.

So, the other morning, I left a diapered, unclothed little Ezra on my bed to run save Oliver from some sort of life-threatening situation (as nearly two-year-olds tend to find themselves in) and when I returned, Spencer had wandered it. Ezra was giggling with as much force as an almost-four-month-old could. Spencer, too was enjoying a hearty chuckle.

"What's up, Dude?" I asked Spencer.

Spencer looked perfectly angelic when he said, "I'm tickling Ezra!"

"Oh yeah?" I queried. Great, gently playing with the baby is ALWAYS encouraged.

"Yeah," answered Spencer. "I'm pinching his breast-es like this..." and then proceed to pinch little Ezra's baby man boob.

And Ezra LOVED it.

I simply requested that Spencer not pinch.

Breast-es don't like to be pinched.

Good Freaking Gosh Friday

I am having an "Oh good golly you're driving me crazy!" morning.

I am trying to remain optimistic.

But it's not going well.

It started when Spencer trotted up the stairs at 0500 (because he hops the gate now) wielding two glow-in-the-dark swords which were party favors from Logan's epic 6th birthday party. (Thanks a bunch Logan's mom. Maybe I should break up with you!... Except Henry had a ball, thanks for the party. Spencer too!) Grr.

So, guess who got to watch a movie at 0500? No, not me! Spencer.

Derek stayed up until oh gosh, 0455 doing who knows what for work, (darn teaching online, it never ends!) and so I really wanted to keep the punks quiet. Buuuutttt, I have a headache that was acquired last night (sidenote: Waking up with the same headache you went to bed with sucks) and my stomach is in all kinds of knots (do not ask me how many bananas I ate yesterday) and my hair is like freaking EVERYWHERE and why in the world had Oliver taken off all his clothes? And why were my children running around like orangutans? (Sidenote: The word is pronounced and spelled or-ang-uh-tan, not or-ang-uh-tang. Don't believe me? Google it.)

And begging to be fed began. Now look, I get that it must be frustrating, having like zero autonomy as a little kid. Someone is constantly telling you what to eat, when to eat, when to sleep, etc. But I mean, have I ever FORGOTTEN to feed them? NO!

So, now they are eating dry cereal out of Ikea bowls as we cower in the basement.

What kind of cereal? You guessed it. I brought down THREE KINDS for our little dry cereal picnic and they all poo-pooed every one except their beloved shredded wheat. (Get it? "poo-pooed".... never mind.)

And why is Oliver wearing one shoe, on the wrong foot?

And the baby! Oh that sweet beautiful Ezra who was determined to fusstulate (apparently this is not a real word. Check it. It is NOW!) his heart out for no apparent reason that turned out to be a dirty diaper and a desire to go back to sleep. ME TOO, KID! WE CAN'T HAVE EVERYTHING WE WANT.

Except he's a baby, so he got a new bum and sent back to bed.

And I think I better put my contacts in. It always feels like the freaking middle of the night when I have my glasses on, regardless of the time of day. Contacts and a hair elastic (to contain the crazy) will make this feel day feel like a day.

Heavens, it's Friday! I need an attitude adjustment.

And the aforementioned hair elastic.

***UPDATE*** Oliver just dumped a ton of shredded wheat and the DOG ate it. I don't even want to think about that... EWEWEWEW! And Oliver is poopy. I need a vacation.***


***UPDATE*** Ezra is crying. And it is snowing. 


***UPDATE*** Hair elastic and Diet Coke. Found. 

JUST SAY NO

I am avoiding changing Oliver's diaper right this minute. I can't leave it for toooo long because um it's gross, but still. He is STINKY!

When we went grocery shopping the other day (remember, it is an EPIC FAMILY OUTING), the boys decided they missed having cereal for breakfast. Whatever, fine by me. So both Henry and Spencer voted for Strawberry Shredded Wheat.

GREAT! No problem! Healthier than many other options! BEAUTIFUL.

Have you ever given that high a dosage of fiber to children who have ZERO issues with constipation?

I don't recommend it.

Between the three of them, they have trotted off to the pot/dirtied diapers more than I care to admit.

It's gross.

I have to go change Oliver.

JUST SAY NO to SHREDDED WHEAT!

A New Thing

Derek and I are trying a new thing with the boys. It's not incredible or creative or anything. It's just new. And so far we all love it.

It's DATES! DATES for all! (Yes that includes Derek and I, but you don't get to hear about THAT today!)

From Feb 2011

Spencer on our date a few weeks ago. I think he was trying to do a monkey-impression. 

So, because we are choosing to home-school, there are of course trade-offs. One thing I know I don't get that other moms do is time with one kid gone. We are basically all together all the time. This is the way we want it. It's part of why we are choosing home-based education.

HOWEVER, that does not negate the importance of one-on-one time with our children. My mom pointed it out to me a long time ago; how important that one-on-one time is, and we are striving to make time for each child with a parent; just them.

Derek's Fridays are light on the "work" side of things, so we've designated Friday as "date" day. Derek takes one, then I take another. (We're not including Ezra and Oliver in this date time yet, but we will as they grow. Oliver is my constant shadow and spends more time me just by default, so we're not stressed about him yet.)

It's an hour or two, as long as I can get away from a boob-monster-baby. It's ice cream or treats and whatever else they want to do to fill the time. Two Fridays ago, poor Spencer couldn't decide between ice cream or cupcakes. So we got both.

I want my children to know that they can talk to me about anything at all, ever. If I'm distracted (frequently) with other things, sometimes I don't hear what they are really saying. ESPECIALLY because they are small and often make absolutely zero sense the first time I hear something.

Dates are times for no distractions. Just me (or Derek) and my boy of the week. Tomorrow it's Daddy and Spencer and then Henry and Mommy. I'm excited to see what he comes up with. Maybe the book store! Maybe the ice cream shop, who cares! It's fun. :)

A Confession...

So, since we've made the change to Spencer sleeping in his own room, I am discovering something...

I like mornings.

SHUT UP! I know!

To be clear, I like mornings that start AFTER 7:00. If I'm really spoiled, 7:30!

5:30 is still ridiculous, and never a good time for me. Middle of the night, that is.

But when there is a bit of light creeping up over the mountains, yeah, that kind of morning I like.

I am finding joy in dragging my keister out of bed. Derek usually gets up and takes the kids downstairs (what will I do when he works 40 hours away from home??? So spoiled!) and I head on into the kitchen. The lights get turned on, the dog is sent out, the morning meal is prepared. I like "waking up the house."

It's morning! A new day!

I'm starting to see why my kids are so annoyingly happy in the morning.

We've discovered that cold cereal, while thoroughly loved by my children, is not enough breakfast to keep them full past 8:30 in the morning! So, I've taken to making breakfast. Cuz it's not like I had anything better to do, right? Some warm muffins and hot chocolate out of the Cocoa-latte (not for me, it's not worth my weight watchers points!) seems to just kick off the day better than early morning grumps and chaos.

I like mornings. Getting started with a day seems more peaceful, more how it should. And since we've got really no where we MUST be in the mornings, it's all the better.

Did I mention that I am spoiled? I know, I am!

It's an Issue of Finances!

I am not sure how to deal with this problem.

College funds? Nope.

Mission funds? Yep.

General Savings... HAHAHAHA!

Food for my children fund? NO AND I NEED ONE IMMEDIATELY!

Seriously, you guys. These boys eat as much if not more than Derek and I! SERIOUSLY!

The other night I was planning a very fancy dinner of frozen pizza for the boys and Lean Cuisines for Derek and myself.

Well, at 5:11 I went to bake said frozen pizza only find that I had actually already fed it to them the week before and forgotten I had done so.

AMAZINGLY that very day, we had discovered a Little Ceasar's Pizza just down the street from our house. I had made a mental note to remember that it existed in case of an emergency.

THIS was an emergency. Three STARVING, crying, WHINING boys, begging to be fed, swearing I hadn't fed them since 2009.

Derek was dispatched post-haste and returned in about 8 minutes. FASTER than a frozen pizza can cook and dang it all, it costs the same.

People, attention please.

They ate the WHOLE thing. EVERY speck of that pizza disappeared into their bellies. There wasn't even so much as a shred of cheese left on the floor for the poor, obese dog.

Every bite; devoured.

They are little boys. The heaviest, Henry, weighs in at 44 pounds. Spencer is a whopping 36 and rounding out my little monsters is Oliver at an impressive 26 pounds.

That is total, 106 pounds of boy. (And yes, I did employ a calculator to figure that out. SHUT UP!)

That is the equivalent to a small 7th grader. And they ate the whole thing.

And no one needed Alka Seltzer after.

I am shaking in my proverbial boots here. Every meal time its the same. They are HUNGRY. I feed them three squares a day PLUS multiple snacks, and yet they eat and EAT.

I am going to need a full-time job by the time Henry is in 4th grade to pay for all these children to be fed.

I need a Food Fund, STAT. Please send paypal donations to my email account, mmkay? I also will graciously accept donations of an eating kind. Little Caesar's pizza is a current fave.

Good Gravy. We're in trouble.