Nickels

B came out of quiet time holding a quarter and a penny. (He found the treasure under his bed.)
He said, "Can people swallow these?"
"No!" I exclaimed, "People don't eat money."
He said, "But CAN they?"
"No", I said, "I don't think people want to AND I don't think that they CAN."
"Well, I think they can, 'cause I swallowed the nickel."

"WHAT?! You did what? You wanted to swallow a nickel?! (lots of exclamation points)"
"No, but I DID swallow a nickel."

Apparently, the kid put a nickel in his mouth (to see what it tasted like), and then he accidentally swallowed it.

I panicked a little, thinking of the fact that he could have choked to death with me right in the next room, not at all aware of the danger.

B's Turn

It is B's turn to be re-introduced. I am, again, going to help you to see who he is by telling a few, short stories:

We "splurged" at McDonalds for K's birthday: We got Happy Meals the kids and something not on the Dollar Menu for us.

We might have picked another place to celebrate, but the Chinese restaurant waitresses are crabby, and no other restaurant will entertain our kids for us (with an indoor playground) for up to two hours at a time. What better birthday present could you get?!

So, B was still hungry and asked for another order of chicken nuggets. I, (being the health-conscious mom that I am) said, "Do you want a cookie or more chicken nuggets?"
The kid answered, "A cookie. AND more chicken nuggets."

------

On Tuesday, S spent most of her morning crying. B said, "Mom, S is whining ALOT today. Can she go to her room or something?"
S said, "B! I WAS going to get a treat today for earning five stars (which is lost if she whines), and I WAS going to share some of my treat with YOU. Now I won't be able to."
B paused, and then said, "Mom, I think S has been so good today. She didn't whine or cry or hit or anything. She was just nice all day."

Huh.

Last story:
B broke the GLASS (who thought of this preschool craft anyway?!) Christmas ornament that he made at MOPS. He dropped it on our tile floor. It shattered. He walked over to Z, all calm, and said, "I dropped my ornament. You didn't want yours, did you?"
Z looked at his ornament adoringly, and said, "Um, you can have it if you want, B."
And B held out his hand in expectation.

So, in case you haven't gathered it so far, B knows how to get what he wants. Or at least he tries. He is creative in his problem-solving. He takes charge of situations. He is assertive. He makes the most of every opportunity.

Right now, I have to struggle to remember that one day, when he is just a little bit older and less narcissistic, these will all be very, very good traits to possess.

Then and Now

Although it may not look like it from this picture, the scarf was much further away from the baby's nose and mouth than it looked. He COULD breathe. We love you, Baby M! :)

When I was young, we spent alot of time swinging over a giant ravine (complete with poky branches and sharp rocks on the bottom) on a long, long piece of rope. A rope swing. Remember those? My sister Kathi and my cousin left my other sister in the middle, alone and basically trapped, "for hours" (according to her) one day. They were sick of playing with her, I guess. She helplessly hung there until they came to retrieve her.

We had snowmobiles in the winter, and we would be gone (far away in the woods) for most of the day. I remember playing tag with my cousins. We'd chase each other at full speed and try to pull each other off of our machines. Whoever was laying on the ground (with the riderless snowmobile in front of them somewhere) was not the winner.

We also had a sledding hill. It was huge. And really dangerous. There were trees on both sides, and it dropped off similarly to that of a scary roller coaster. I think someone broke their leg (or an arm?) on that hill.

We loved it.

Today's sledding experience reminded me of my own childhood and how much I want our kids to experience those kinds of things. Outdoor things. Good, old-fashioned fun. Fun that doesn't require batteries. Experiences that get the adrenaline going.

All of that without getting hurt, of course.

S, also reintroduced

See that necklace? Z made that for S. Who else in the world, besides a girl with three brothers, gets to wear a necklace lovingly made out of army tank wheel parts? The bright flowers and the black go together well, no?

I promised a while ago to reintroduce you to the kids.

Today is S's day.

The girl is girly. Her papa says she is way girlier now than I ever have been or ever will be in my life. She is obsessed with Barbie (not given to her by me), Polly Pocket (ditto), princess movies (ditto again), and beautiful dress-up gowns and jewelry (geez, are we horrible parents, because I have to say ditto AGAIN!) I just am not girly. At all. I have a dress, but I haven't worn it since before I got pregnant in 2003. (Think Rachel's wedding, Ange!)

She is compliant to the point of getting her feelings hurt when we correct her. Today, she said, "More milk..." and I said, "Could you ask for milk in any other way? Like maybe more politely?" and her lip quivered as she said, "Milk please?"and then, "I'm sorry I asked like that."

She is a helper:

I was drying my hair in the bathroom. The girl came in, and said, "Ohhh. I am so tired. (Wiping fake sweat off her forehead). Man, gettin' those boys ready is a LOT of work!"
Later, I passed S in the hallway. She was leading Z to his room by his elbow, exclaiming, "Now, it just doesn't make sense that you aren't dressed yet."
And while I would usually object to S being the "parent", I was running late that morning, and I was just grateful that someone was directing "those boys".

She is a wimp! I mean, um, safety-conscious? I wouldn't mention this, except that we just put up her new loft bed, and I wondered if we would even be able to talk her into sleeping there.
Surprisingly, she learned rather quickly how to convince her feet (rather shakily) to "just keep going one-by-one".

She is social. She knows WAY more people's names than I do, everywhere we go. If I have a question about someone at church, I only need to find S, and she will tell me who it is. She just wants people around. I found her crying once, in her bed, and when asked what was wrong, she said, "How come B and Z have a room together, and you and Papa have a room together, and I am stuck in here with no one. I want someone to talk to in here!" We got her a Fur-real Pig (temporary fix) and promised that when the baby came, she would also have a room partner (more permanent fix).
Today is the day for the permanent fix! M has been sleeping through the night for about a week now (10 hours last night! Woohoo!), and he has earned a place underneath his big sister's bed. She is elated. "Someone to talk to at last!"

Good Times

B came across some old Creative Memory books that I had started for the kids when they were born. I have about 2 1/2 years worth.

They are mammoth.

But then I started blogging and completely "forgot" about the books. Who wouldn't "forget" when blogging is so much easier!? No cutting out paper, pasting, trimming photos to fit the page, buying expensive embellishments...

But the kids thoroughly enjoyed paging through the books, and so I started to feel guilty...like I should be putting alot more work into documenting our lives together.

In the end, I swayed my guilt by simply uploading a few photos of old times (ones that haven't been posted before) and calling it good. Here ya go, kids. I love you.

Side note: Is anyone else worried about our kids not being able to access our blogs some day? All this writing and they won't even be able to read it? I do happen to save mine to CD, but what if those are obsolete too by the time they are old enough to care?

Toys

See those little guys all over our house? That is the result of not having many age-appropriate toys for our kids. It seems that when our babies outgrew their latest toys, we never bothered to get them new ones. I didn't notice until recently that they have been playing with the tiniest bits of age-appropriate toys they can find (aka tiny, plastic cowboys and combat guys).

Good thing Christmas is around the corner.

But really...the thing is, I don't feel completely bad for them. Maybe being "toy-deprived" helps to boost creativity, and I'm certain that on Christmas morning, with all of their magnificent toy choices in a giant pile around them, the kids will probably still play with the box.

Z, Reintroduced

You may have forgotten that I even have kids, as I haven't written about them in a amazingly long time.

I'll reintroduce you.

We have our eldest, Z, who is exaggeratedly encouraging and just, um, really nice.

This morning, he said, "S, I like your hair. I like that rubber band in it". The thing is, S did have a rubber band in her hair, hanging there from the day before, loose and not at all holding her hair in place. And the rest of her hair, the stuff not tangled in the rubber band, was hanging in her eyes, making it her hard for her to see her cereal. But apparently, to Z, it looked Bee-u-tee-full! Unless, of course, he just couldn't think of any other compliment at the moment.

We walked into the doctor's office yesterday, and B held the door open for him. Wide-eyed Z said, "Man, you are so strong, dude! I can't believe how strong you are!"

We were waiting to be checked out, and the receptionist was checking her calendar. "I like your, um, um, pen." said Z. Who, besides Z, cares about or notices a blue bic pen anyway?!

We went trick or treating, and Z loved it. But after about six houses, he would walk up to the door and greet the neighbors with the rest of the kids (because he "just wanted to say hi"?!), but when the person would attempt to place a candy in his bag, he would say, "Um, no thanks...I have enough." I DID NOT teach him to ever, ever refuse candy from anyone under any circumstances.

(We had, on the other hand, our business man, B trying to do trade-ups, "Can I have that candy instead!?")

And randomly, throughout the day, especially when he can tell I am irritated, Z will say, "Mom, you are a good mom. I love you."

So there ya go. That is Z.

I will re-introduce you to the other three another day.

Crafts

I went to a coffee house the other night to write a paper, and I (always trying to find a distraction) overheard a girl say, "She says she likes to stay home with her kids all day. But COME ON....Who really likes to do that? Does she not get bored? What is she doing at home anyway? Crafts?! Knitting?"

And I wanted to tell her that I, for one, love to stay home with my kids all day. And I don't knit. I probably never will. But I DO like crafts, ya punk.

You may or may not know that we have been busy doing preschool at home this fall. This week's preschool theme was Homes. We are learning about different shapes, sizes, and kinds of homes. Today, the kids traced around "home items", like screwdrivers, scissors, tape, forks, and toothbrushes. B was so proud of his masterpiece that he hung it on Papa's wall, hoping to surprise him with his artistic talent.
Instead, when Papa walked into his office, we heard, "Agghh. What the heck is that!?"

Of course, we (the kids and I) saw that it was obviously a scissors, but apparently, Pops saw something different.

And now I think he questions my choice in academic topics.

It Worked!

I stopped eating dairy, and it seems that someone has replaced the crying, gassy kid with a happy, mostly-sleeping kid.

Milk

Today, B said, "Mom! Look at M! He is awake and he is not crying!"
So, that has been our life here. Crying baby.
All. The. Time.
Unless he is sleeping.
I am currently not eating dairy. Lots of websites say that milk products give breastfeeding babies tummy aches. We'll see how it works out for us.
I might go a little crazy.

Grandma

Today, I brought M to school with me. His first class! He was completely silent during the entire 2 1/2 hours, except one, tiny baby sneeze.
While I was waiting for class to start, a girl whom I would have assumed was close to my age, exclaimed (for at least three people to hear), "Oh, he is so cute! Is he your grand baby!?" I would insert a few colorful choice words right now, but I think that too many people from church read this, so I will just say that that question was REALLY upsetting for me. When people look at me, their first assumption is that I am the GRANDMA?! Did my few years of smoking and not-too-hard partying really age me that much? I am not even an obsessive tanner.

Sheesh.

So.

That's me today...constantly looking in the mirror to note the wrinkles around my eyes and my slightly sagging skin.

Crap.

One-Size-Fits-All

We spent more money than I wanted to on one-size diapers. I bit the bullet (is that the phrase?) and bought them anyway, because I figured, "They are one size, right?! The cost will even out in the end."

But then we received the "one-size" diapers in the mail, and I'm thinking that M isn't happy.

Technology

B: "Mom, how do your boobs work to give baby M milk? (pause, thinking) Do they have batteries?"

She Wanted a Little Sister, But She Seems Extremely Okay with a Baby Brother

Understanding Babies

Soren (who will soon be labeled M on this blog) is now 3 days old (and a few hours). He is currently sleeping on my chest, waiting for Papa to come get us and bring us home (or at least to Grandma and Grandpa's). It is delightful to have just one HEALTHY baby to dote on. Our kids are still trying to decide if they think he is delightful.

Z's 1st impression: "Where's the baby, mom? Hey mom, are we on the top floor? Can I have some of your juice? Do you want me to share my gum with you? How come there's just a bed in here?"
B's 1st impression: "Owwww (holding throat). I need a drink. (He is still recovering from having his adenoids/tonsil removed....I know! Bad timing!) Did the baby have a shirt and diaper on when he was inside you?" ("Nope, I wouldn't be able to reach him to get him dressed.") "Why didn't you get him dressed before he went inside you?" (What jerk parents to not get him dressed before we put him inside me! I mean, who wants to enter the world, in front of a roomful of people, naked!?)
S's 1st impression: "Can I feed him?" ("You can't, because I feed him with my boobs.") "Why!?" ("Because that's how moms feed babies. Boob milk is best for little babies, and it helps them to grow big and strong.") "You mean you're like a cow!?" ("Yup, exactly like a cow...")

Welcome Baby #5!

Before (at 5ish this morning):
















And After (at 8:05 am):

We are so, so, so happy to introduce you to Søren Micah, weighing in at 6 pounds, 7 ounces.

He is very healthy and most happy (except when he thinks it is time to eat).

Thanks for your well wishes and prayers.

Answers

How are you different from everyone else?
B: I have this shirt on and everyone else doesn't have this shirt.
Z: I am Z, and everyone else has their own name.
S: Because God made my hair and my face and my body, and it is different than everyone else.

What do you worry most about?
B: That monster book we have.
Z: That B isn't in his room when we are doing quiet time.
S: I worry about little animals (awww).

What would you like to change your name to if you could?
B: Captain Morgan (!?)
Z: Batman
S: Belle

What would you do for someone else if you could do anything you wanted?
B: Make the bed for them.
Z: Give them food if they were hungry.
S: Go to bed if they asked me to.

Baby Update

I am 34 weeks pregnant. At my last doctor's appointment, I was measuring correctly and I was right on for weight. The baby's heart beat was fine. His (I swear it is a boy) head was up, but the doctor is less concerned about that, because he is doing a c-section anyway.
It seems that all is going well. I have nothing to complain about. Except for the fact that the bulge in front of me keeps getting bigger (and bigger and bigger), I have no annoying pregnancy symptoms. No swelling. No insomnia. No headaches. No constipation (thank God!).
I have three more weeks until I deliver.
I am excited, but I might actually miss getting kicked in the ribs all the time!

Camping

I love camping. My kids spent most of the first day jumping in puddles (sewage dump from people's campers) and getting muddy from head to toe. They spent much time playing on the swan-poop-infested beach and swimming in the "non-tested or monitored" reservoir water. It was great.
Most of the time, we had friends with us, but there was a chunk of time in which I was alone on the campground with my kids.
I learned that I am an incompetent camper. I don't know how to start a fire. So our kids had to have plain, ol' PB & J for lunch (instead of the stir fry or hobo pie pizzas that happen when OTHER PEOPLE cook on these trips). And I panic when I see giant snakes like the one in that photo above. My desire to teach my kids to enjoy all sorts of nature always goes straight out the window when I actually encounter creepy crawly creatures like the Blue Racer we experienced yesterday. My kids noticed it first. It was gliding quickly across the grass towards our tent. I scared it away from the tent, (by screaming frantically) and it slithered away from our tent (yeah!) and into our tent bag (shoot!), peering out; ready to attack! I got a huge stick, told my kids to stay back, and....
No, I didn't kill it.
I slipped the stick through the handle of the bag, and carried it, as far away from my body as possible, across many campsites until I saw a guy who looked like he could handle a fierce, poisonous snake.
He was the perfect guy for the job. He said he picked up his first rattlesnake at 7 years of age or so. In seconds, he shook the snake out of my bag, (while I stood on the picnic table near him), wrapped it around his neck, (while I gagged), and called my kids over to touch its "smooth, beautiful skin". Ew. Our kids were in awe. Of the snake andthe brave snake handler.
I was glad when Keith and Diana came back.

Three

I just finished a baking extravaganza. I made 2 loaves of cinnamon bread, 2 loaves of banana bread, a ham and cheese pizza, a 9x13 pan of stuffed blueberry french toast, and chicken tortilla soup.

Do you know how or why I was able to do this?

Because I actually had some spare time!

S is with Grandma this weekend, and the boys have played beautifully together all day. I cannot believe what a difference one less kid makes. It doesn't matter what kid. It is just that two four-year olds play better together than three.

No competition for each other's attention.
No bargaining about what games to play.
No leaving one kid out.
No ganging up on each other.

And B was in his glory, because he could ask as many questions as he wanted, and I actually had the time to answer him. I'll give you a small sampling of some of his best:
How come my peeny (male anatomy) is squishy?
How come it's grandmas' jobs to give you treats ALL THE TIME and mama and papas' jobs to give you treats only after you do your star chart?
How come Z's jammies are not cool and mine ARE cool? What makes mine cool? Are mine cool , or no? They aren't cute are they, because I don't want cute jammies?!
Did you know that you can't do flips on the swing like I can? I think it's because the baby would get sick.
How come it hurts when someone hits you with a stick?
Is this exercise (standing on one leg, then kicking up in the air, then falling on the ground on his face) or is it a trick?
But WHY can't I eat my boogers?

Chicago

We have friends that live to Chicago. I like them. I like that they talk about sex. And butt cracks. And everything else. And I like that Colleen said, "Glen, we better get going, K and K are already FIVE babies ahead of us!" Who still remembers (or at least verbally acknowledges) that this kicking-my-ribs-as-I-type baby will be Baby #5? Thanks, Colleen. And I like that they came to visit us in our hotel at 11 o' clock at night, even though they'd both had long days. I like that Colleen made us get Garrett's Popcorn (cheese and caramel corn mixed). I like that Glen always calls Colleen "Beautiful" (I don't want you to do that for me, though, Keith), and that they carried our kids (on their backs, shoulders, legs, arms) for most of the time that we were in Chicago. I'm glad they did, because we wouldn't!

We stayed in a really nice ($189/room) hotel for $50. Although it was a beautiful hotel, I don't think that they should be able to take advantage of you, just because you (supposedly) have the money to afford a room like that. We couldn't do anything there that didn't cost A TON. The bar offered candy bars for $3.50 each. We had to pay for Internet access and PARKING! Um, I kind of expect that parking is going to be included in the price of the room! $20, even. Maybe I am cheap, but those costs sicked me out.

You would think our kids were from the back woods! (Oh, right...they are.) Everything was glass in the hotel, and our kids were amazed and perplexed:
"Hey! Wait! Come get me!", yelled S from the bottom of the entryway stairs. She refused to walk up the glass steps (you could see under to the next floor down) for fear of falling to her death.
"Wow, mama! Look at this!" Our boys spent many minutes staring at themselves in a mirrored glass table at the checkout waiting area.
"Wack! Thud!" Z actually ran so hard into a too-clean glass door that he flew back several feet, crying, his forehead already developing a big, blue bruise.

We spent the first day at the zoo. We stayed for three hours. When asked later what their favorite part of the zoo was, Z quickly answered, "The monkeys!"

Huh. That's weird, Z, because we left before we even GOT to the monkeys!

His answer, I supposed, was less surprising than S's, who told me that her "most best part was the men." I still have no idea what she is talking about. Is she a teenager already?!

The next day, we spent the day with Glen and Colleen, downtown. We played in the city water fountain, we played at a children's festival (crafts, activities, books), and we walked (alot). The thing is, it didn't matter what we did. We were just happy to hang out with our old friends again, and our kids enjoyed being carried and hugged and teased and spoiled by their new friends, "Glen and the Queen".

We ended our day at the aquarium, and while that was the main reason for our going to Chicago, we ended up getting lost on the way there, and having only an hour to rush through and see all there was to be seen. It was fine, and I think our kids had more fun with "Glen and the Queen" than they would have had seeing more fish.

We left (getting home at 1ish am), happy and content to sleep (and puke, as Z did, "from eating too much caramel corn") all the way to our little holler in the woods.

The Papa

Fifteen Things on the Fifteenth of June:




It's Father's Day, so here we go. Some stuff about Keith:
1. He makes breakfast for us almost every time he has a day off. Usually eggs and bacon.
2. When I tell him that B chose the "Spend Time with Papa (or Mama, but they always pick Papa) Alone" reward card, he responds, "NICE!" or "Cool!" I love that he genuinely likes spending time with our kids.
3. He empties the dishwasher, because it is the job I despise the most (he also cleans the tub/shower).
4. He read 15 of our kids' library books in a row yesterday. I love that he loves books. I hope our kids like reading as much as we do.
5. He gives away his personal spending money almost every week. He is way more generous than I will ever be. (I am trying hard to learn from him).
6. He hates pretending, and yet....he danced with Princess S the other day, (at the "Grand Ball"), twirling her and doing dips, oohing and aahing over her beautiful dress. He searched all over for her when she fled at midnight, leaving one of her glass slippers.
7. He wrestles with the boys almost every day. (I don't wrestle, even a tiny bit. Ever.)
8. He sword fights too,
9. which is why our kids think that the Papa is WAY more fun than me.
9. He lives out what he believes.
10. He doesn't get annoyed when I make him feel the baby kicking....AGAIN.
11. He never lets his work come before his family. Although he often puts his family (us) before himself.
13. He isn't picky. So, when I experiment by replacing whatever ingredient with the one I don't have, he doesn't complain when dinner sucks.
14. He loves me, even when I tell him that I just asked a high school a guy I used to know what his last name used to be. (I meant what IS his last name, because I think we used to know each other in high school). :) So, he loves me, despite my impulsive habit of not thinking before talking or acting.
15. He loves his family. He thinks his sister is one of the coolest people in the world (what guy admits that!?), and (despite the fact that he is a guy) he remembers to call his dad on Father's Day. (I haven't even called mine yet!)
While I am constantly thinking that I screwed up, again, in the position of being the Mama, I couldn't be happier knowing that our kids have been greatly blessed in having K be their dad.

The kids (and I) love you, K. Thanks for who you are.