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.

I Got Nothin'

I have nothing to say.

Huh. Is that good? Our kids have been enjoyable, even.
And funny. I feel like I've been laughing alot, although I can't remember anything in particular that was said.

Besides the small breakdown (last post) last week, our lives have been pretty uneventful.

I can't force a post, so I will post some pictures.

Garbage

I just spent the last four days working on a table to put in my living room. I sanded it like crazy, then I had K primer it (because the can says it causes brain damage to babies), then I sprayed it.

And waited a day.

And sprayed it again.

Then, K turned it over, because he said there were parts that wouldn't get sprayed well unless it was upside down. The top of the table stuck to the towel and got all bumpy.

And we didn't have any more paint.

I sanded it again. And bought more paint. And sprayed it.

It was all bumpy anyway.

I sanded it again.

It was streaky after I painted it. I painted it again.

I sighed a proud breathe of fume-filled air, and began the clear coat enamel. I was on my way to the finish line!

The CLEAR coat enamel that I bought was actually white! WHAT THE HECK!?

Then I quick wiped it off and found some other clear coat enamel, but it was too old and it came out in chunks.

On my table.

So I quick tried to wipe THAT off, but it took the coats of paint off in places, right down the primer. So I sanded it like crazy and sanded it some more. Then Z was whining LIKE CRAZY about not being able to pedal his bike. And I yelled at him LOUDLY and told him to quit whining. And he cried and ran away. And I felt bad. And I sanded some more.

And decided it wasn't worth it. I threw the whole project in the dumpster.

Then I remembered how much work already went into the frickin' thing, and I fished it back out.

It was cracked already, from being thrown in the dumpster.

And the whole time I am all nervous and paranoid about painting anyway, because I am pregnant and paranoid about everything. What if I was causing brain damage to the baby with all those painting fumes?

So, now I finally just threw the whole table in the dumpster. Again. For good. (I actually stamped my feet. And whined.)

I also wondered why I spent $20 on paint for a crappy table anyway. And why I risked brain damage to our baby for a TABLE. And if it was worth yelling at Z for...

K's gonna have to paint the other table I have. I wonder why I didn't just let him the 1st time.

A Conversation

Me: "What are you guys doing out here (on the porch, squatting in a circle, chewing)?"
S: "We're eating snowflakes!"
Me: (Gagging some) "Um, actually, you are eating blobs of bird poop..."
Z: "I thought it tasted kinda gross!"
S: "How come bird poop doesn't taste like snow, mama?"

Huh. Good question, I guess.

Horror

We let our kids watch Silence of the Lambs with us.










Or that's what it appears like in that photo, doesn't it?

Really, I went through a car wash with them in the car. Oh, the horror!

Note to Self: Get car washed more often...