Movin' on up

I can't hear you, I can't hear you, I can't hear you, I'm not listening...

These are the words that my motherly insticts are saying while I'm trying to tell them that the time has come to wean Giddie.

(I think I prefer the 'ie' ending to the 'y' ending, what about you?)

Yep. It's true. He's ten and a half months, get's up on all fours while nursing, to watch the other kids, and LOVES to eat real food. It's official. I am closing this chapter in my life. And yes, it makes me very sad.

As I have mentioned before, nursing babies has never come easy for me. But I do it. And in the end, I love it. It starts out bad, I always want to quit, and then I'm sad when the time comes to wean. I think I feel most sad that my babies have to grow up. And this being my last, makes it even more of a heart ache for me.

But I know it's time for both of us to move on. He's ready, and I'm ready to start working on my own physical well being. Things aren't pretty 'round these parts, if you know what I'm sayin'? Okay. Fine. A per usual, when I wean each child, I weigh the exact same as I did the day I delivered them. So here I am again, staring at losing a WHOLE lot of weight. But this time? This time? I won't have to put all the weight on again with another baby. This may ACTUALLY be the last time I have to fight this battle. (the huge up and down on the scale, that is) For me, baby weaning and weight loss go hand in hand. Wish me luck!

Since I am going out of town soon, the timing is perfect. He is taking a bottle well, and I think even a bit happier to be on the go with a bottle. I am just nursing first thing in the morning. I love this time with him. I love to hear him jabbering away down the hall, then get him out of his nice warm bed, all rosey cheeked and cuddlie. I bring him into my bed, having opened the blinds just a bit, and lay down with him. I love the closeness and the quiet time together. This is only possible, of course, because I run around getting the big boys out the door, breakfast for the littles, a show on so after eating they'll watch T.V., before I scoop little Gideon out of his bed, ensuring that they won't be up jumping all over the bed with us. And even then, it's not a guarantee.

For several weeks now, he has been giving me the signs that he is ready. Most of the feedings of the day he is too busy pulling off and looking at the constant commotion of our home to get much of meal anyway. And he's on to solids. Really on to solids. He LOVES food. He'd eat a steak if I'd let him. (which means I'd have to find one that I trust in this area of the world, which I can't - three months and I am going to eat A LOT of steak! And LOTS of other things too...) He loves yogurt, raisins, crackers, cheese, green beens, canned mandarin oranges, apples and BANANAS. He loves his bananas. I didn't have any luck finding baby food in this country. I brought about two months worth with me when we moved and had my parents bring a little to Europe with them last fall. So we had store bought for about six weeks, then I made my own. Five kids, and I have never officially made baby food - totally by choice. Didn't Gerber put a cute baby on the front so I would trust them? Duh. It worked. Why would I make my own when I can buy it? I know, it's cheaper to make it, but I always found a way to pay for jarred baby food. Until now, when I have had NO other choice. Luckily, we're out of that stage. Hooray!

Anyway. We're movin' on up around here. The winds of change are here and I am quite ready for them. Now, if only I could potty train Chach....

Smarty Pants

Simon continues to crack me up. He is in second grade, and his vocabulary amazes me. Here's just a small sample of conversations today:

I said, "Sometimes when kids are together with lots of other kids, they try to show off for each other." He says, "Yes. They try to impress each other."

I said, "So you're hungry?" He says, "Literally starving."

I said, "What did you say when he asked if you wanted to see that toy." He says, "Nothing. He was going to show me anyway. It was a rhetorical question."

I think all of his reading is starting to pay off, both in vocab and understanding.

Smarty.

The Small Creator

While Simon was doing this...

Coloring the inner workings of the human hand.

I was doing this...

Sharpening some of my favorite things ever. Colored pencils.

Don't you love a perfectly, freshly sharpened pencil? Oooh. I know I do. And a whole pencil box full? Mmmm. And colored? Yep. I died and went to heaven. Nothing like a little rectangle box full of enough colors to make ANY THING YOU WANT. It's all about where those little wooden sticks can take you.

Anywhere.

Si enjoys my love to create. He loves to imagine, create, and complete a project. As you may have noticed by the fact that a Kindergarten-er could sit down and complete a page out of the Anatomy Coloring book. (we figure, if he's going to be busy coloring meticulously, we may as well be making a doctor out of him - right?) And he loves it. He's since finished the feet and is working on the arm. And he can tell you most of the parts and how many bones are in each appendage.

This is how he unloads the dishwasher. I always know who finished last. The boys take turns with racks of the washer, Si usually last. Because, of course, he's younger. But don't you love how he stacks them all? I don't make him climb up to put things away - he's a bit of a shorty. So he's supposed to stack them neatly on the counter.

I love how 'neatly stack' translates to a six year old. As you can see, it means 'built into something really cool.'

He is a very particular child. He opened the freezer the other day and saw the carton of ice cream that read. "Deluxe Ice Cream." (that's the cheap Kroger brand trying to be fancy) He says to me, 'Mom, I'd like some Deluxe Ice Cream please.' Not, 'mint chocolate chip' mind you. But, 'Deluxe.'

He must always have the last word. No matter what! He corrects people day in and day out. I say 'freeze pop' he says, 'it's called an otter pop.' He uses the phrase, "...you mean a ..." a lot. I tell him, "I mean what I say, so don't correct."

He's learned to be kind and loving from his brother and dad. He's a bit of a worrier, loves to create, is particular and likes things certain ways. Hmmm. Wonder where he gets that from?

Summa, summa (like 'summer', you know)

Last week of school and what’d we do?

Pull the kids out early for a trip to the zoo.

Nice.

Last day of school means – ‘Let’s celebrate!’

We had breakfast for lunch; pancakes, butter, syrup, whipped cream, bacon and orange juice. (We’re all about heart attacks around here)

I gave them their ‘welcome summer’ gifts. Which consisted of:

Squirt guns

Sidewalk chalk

Bubble wands

Color/work books (they didn’t touch these – hmm wonder why?)

We had a water balloon fight, got out the slip in slide and welcomed summer the best way we knew how.

In our swim suits!

(even me – yikes!)

Chubblie Cookie

Mmmmm. Cookies.

Lego Fun

Do have little boys? I do. And they love to build. What did people ever do before legos? Heaven help me! I don't want to know life with legos!

During break, my boys spent day and night creating. Above are some of my favorite things. You know how kids imitate? Wow. That's all I have to say. It's a good thing I'm a pretty decent person, because I'd hate to have them imitating worse than this.

Top Row: Pocket knife, Iphone, Wii controller

Bottom Row: razor, TV remote, another pocket knife, two flip phones, (not sure the next two), and another Iphone. Somewhere they made tooth brushes as well.

I love my boys. They bring so much joy into my life. I love how they LOVE to snuggle, cuddle, hug and kiss. I hope they always do. AS LONG as it's to me!!

Or, after they're home from their missions, they can hold hands with another girl. (ha)

Movin' On

I sucked my thumb.

A lot.

I had a crib sheet that I carried day and night until I was three. Here I am in a peaceful slumber, 'sheet' in tow. (mouth open and drooling, to be sure, as well)

(Did you have this same pillow case? I've seen in often at garage sales and what not. Still have it.)

When I was three, my dad had had enough. He was going out of town on business, and by the time he came home, "it had better be gone." I walked over to the trash-masher (compactor) and threw it in.

That was the end of "sheet," and my thumb sucking.

Roo sucks her thumb.

A lot.


I made her a blanket, pink, soft and cuddlie, before she was born. Here she is napping at Minky's one evening last fall. Her "bebow" on her head. She loves to have it on her head to sleep, and will only suck her thumb with this VERY blanket.

Three weeks ago, I "threw it in the garbage." Not really of course. But she thinks so. She was terrificly sassy, one too many times.

So to the garbage with her blankie! (I know, I'm a very mean mom. I know)

She looked for it in each and every can in the house. I told her it was out in the big can outside.

"oh."

She has asked for it one time since then. After she saw a picture of it in her baby book.

Thats it. And guess who has totally quit sucking her thumb?

Yep. 'Lil Roo.

I think you can see here the problem. It became such a habitual crutch for her, that I felt it time to help her move on. She has picked every last tie out of it. (I have a couple saved for later laughs) All of the badding has been smooshed to the corners and it's actually gray now, dirty, and VERY, VERY loved.

She would get her "beh", put her thumb in, tickle her ear with the blanket, and her eyes would roll back in her head. Like a fantastic piece of the worlds greatest chocolate cake dancing in your mouth. "Ohhh, sweet heaven."

I'm sure many of you think I shouldn't have gone to such extreme measures.

But, the time has come.

Don't fret my friends.

I made The Roo a new blanket. Oh sure. She thinks it's pretty and the like, but it's not 'beh' and I know it. But I think it will be something she treasures.

My grandma sent home a piece of pink satin with my mom recently. She lives in Boise and once in a while I get a little piece of fabric, or a pattern here and there. I think I'm one of the only grandchildren that sews very much, so I get bits and pieces here and there.

The pink stripe trim is from Ruby's crib set that I made her when she was born. I quilted the blanket with flowers, dragon flies, leaves, and even put her name in the stitches.

The top of the quilt is fabric, sent again from grandma, but this was fabric that she and my mom made my mothers bed spread from in 1972. I've had this piece for several years now, and haven't known what to do with it.

But now I do.

I feel like this ties four generations together, just a bit.

I hope Ruby comes to love and cherish this blanket. It's a little bit of her, her mom, her grandma, and her great grandma. I hope in years to come, in lonely times, she'll feel the love of women who want the world for her. Who know that she can be the most amazing person. Who believe in her more than anyone. And that when she feels that no one loves her, as we all do, she'll know that she is loved.

And if all else fails, I saved 'beh' in my hope chest for her. She can get her trusty old friend out from her own hope chest, one day, and have a snuggle.

Fun in the Mud

Yesterday my kids asked to take the hose into what will soon be, THE GARDEN.

aka: DIRT.

"Are kidding me? It's freezing, and NO WAY!"

Upon further thinking, I thought - actually, why not? They are kids, and I do make them behave a lot. Why not let them frolic in the mud? Everyone needs to once in a while, right? AND, since we don't live near the beach, they really don't get the dirt/water experience I wish they could. So...

"Okay, you can put the hose in the dirt, if you put on 'mud' clothes. AND, once you're out - you're out, no coming in until you're done. AND, once you're in you have to have your hair cut, shower and nails trimmed. Deal?"

"DEAL!!" They responded. And out they went!

They were out a LONG time!

Pink toes and hands, covered in mud. As we all know, mud is always more fun with no shoes.

I talked to my older, and wiser (sometimes, haha), sister while they were out, and asked, "Am I a bad mother because I let them do this, or because I'm not yelling at them to get in here?" She agreed that 'letting them' was the better option.

Samuel hates getting his hair cut. Here he is, mid cut. He's giving his best hairy beast look. "Argghhhh."

Cold. yes.

Muddy. Yes.

Dirty house after. Yes.

Lots of fun. Yes.

This, that and the other

This is one of those posts that, if I we're in junior high, I would have folded up into that cool rectangle "fold" and given it to my friend. Just a , "not much up here, what's goin' on with you" kind of note. So, enjoy. Or don't. What-ev.

Numero uno: Note to self; Just have musical numbers at my funeral. Doris had her funeral planned right down to the second, and I loved it. I would much rather listen to really nice music, than listen to most anyone speak. On that note; Make sure I have a closed casket. I don't wear make-up now, why should I have to when I'm no longer alive? Really. But, I don't think no make-up is really an option when people are looking at you. So, my conclusion; closed lid. Done.

Oh yeah. And NO HAM! I find it totally ridiculous that "ham is expected." Puh-lease. Who needs ham? How 'bout some nice fried chicken? Or lasagna? I think there are lots of options. And I really do like funeral potatoes, so that's okay with me. Who doesn't like potatoes, sour cream, cream of mushroom soup and cheese? On anything? I know I like any of these items pretty much any time, any where.

Next on my list of jibba-jabba: We're all sick. I haven't smelled anything for at least four days. This is a good thing, and a bad thing. I made to cakes today: Good; no eating. Stinky diapers and the like; a really good thing. Can't taste my food; a bad thing. I wonder, aimlessly, shoving everything in my mouth, hoping to get a taste of something really yummy. But, as you know, no smell-ee, no taste-ee. Sad, but, true.

I ground wheat with a "super star" last night. Or at least she thinks she is. Seriously, who cooks in a tu-tu with sunglasses? Roo. And maybe her Aunt Minky. (Chubs is in the corner cupboard, "working.")

And, we had a little cake for Chub’s birthday as well. He cried, didn’t want to touch it, and didn’t like the frosting. Who’s child is this, anyway? But he loved his trucks. Shocker.

Today I also made a cake for my friends little girl. She loves Kit Kittridge, (who doesn't?) and wanted a type writer for her birthday. So, I made her a type writer cake. Fun, huh?

On a closing note; a couple of people have asked for the bread recipe I use. I really am posting it, soon. Just as soon as all my kids are actually at school and I can breathe again. Whew!

*Don’t worry, with all of this cooking, I washed 87,000 times, sanitized, and made sure not to breathe anywhere near the food.

Acrtic Freeze 2009

Weekend scare:

Upon finding the scene you see below, I immediately called for aerial back up. (my arm) With a man down, abandoned, on this sub-zero night, I knew they’d need more support; a mom.

The vessel was frozen into glacial waters, also known as, the iced over cul d’sac. I could see we had a treacherous situation at hand. Never know when the neighbor might leave his driveway and two tons of steel could come rolling over the forgotten, yet beloved, arctic adventure the boys left out.

First, get the guy. Next, unfreeze the ship and recover all parties involved to safer ground.

Rescue complete. No casualties.

Dear Tooth Fairy

Dear Tooth Fairy,

Is this really fair? Really? I just want to eat my pizza. Is that to much to ask?

It's bad enough to have the Grand Canyon in my mouth. I just want to eat my dinner...like a normal person. My "bites" look like an alien bit them. This really, truly, is a pizza silhouette of my teeth. Or shall I say, lack of teeth.

And while you're at it, could you get me some clean-eating lessons? My mom thinks I'm a pig. What does she know?

Well, thanks anyway. You're doing a great job. You're really pretty, super nice, and I really like you. You make the greatest food, keep a fantastic house, and are the kindest person I know.

Keep up the good work.

Love,

Simon

"Thank you, thank you very much." Someone hasn't taken off her ballet clothes since Thursday. Here she is giving you a bow.


Can't you just taste his chubby cheeks? Mm!

Who doesn't love Fancy Nancy?! I really need a pair of these in my size. They are the cutest. Of course, the one and only Aunt Minky delivered - as usual. She always knows just what her genetic clone would LOVE!

Why aren't my chubby legs this cute?

Beware! Pirates ahead!

In our church, we have the oldest (still functioning) women's organization in the world, called the Relief Society. We look after each other, our families, and help those in need.



Last Sunday, after church, I was leaving to take a meal into a family. Simon and Samuel came to me looking for "bandanas." Thanks to girls camp, a few years back, I had some. Simon asked, as I was rushing out the door, "can you paint some pirate face paint on me?" I told him it would have to wait.


The last thing I saw was Roo with a bandana on her head, tied graciously by her brothers. And the boys scavenging through the dress-up bin. You can imagine my surprise when later that evening, I returned to these fantastic photos taken by their father. *Thanks to a creative husband, I "pirated" all of his photo quotes


(As a side note: We have called Ruby the Pirate Queen for a long time now. She still had her church clothes on, and it was PERFECT. Cute dress, huh? I love it, and it makes the whole Pirate band look great. By the way, what did they learn in Primary this week making them rush home for this? AND, should we really give them the Wii we bought, when they can come up with this sort of entertainment on their own? Makes me think.)

"Tis' a motley crue indeed we have amidships on our galleon. Me better haste to cover for' the lootin' starts in the gally - all snacks beware! Rice krispy treats avast!"

"A fine pirate pose, for memories sake,
in case Davey Jones comes us callin' before tubby time."




"Thats a mighty fierce pirate smile, matey!"




"You yellow-bellied landlubbers can't handle just how piratey we is!"




"Aarrrggghhh!" (that's what she's saying out of the corner of her mouth)

*This one is my favorite. Thats the vacuum on "top" of her head.

Do Overs and a Pony

Some days, don't you wish you could have a "do over?" Well, yesterday was one of those for me.


But then again, things like this (see below) make me wish other days would last forever. Wish that time could stand still, that I could hold each moment and savor it for hours and hours.

Time is my enemy right now. My kids are growing, literally, right before my very eyes. They are slipping through my fingers as I curse my dirty dishes, cry to my need-to-be cleaned bathrooms, hide from the piles of laundry and groan through my childrens homework. Can't you all (life's daily chores) just leave me alone so I can enjoy these precious moments with my babies? Please?!

Best thing about yesterday? Roo went to a friends birthday party, she turned four. You know who came to her party? To her house? A PONY! That's right. A pony. Right there in her yard, for all of her little friends to have a ride.

Maybe a pony would make things better for me.

I think I'll ask for one for Christmas.

Jug 'o oil, and Mr. Chubs

I went on a “girl’s date” last night with “The Amy-ee’s” (two friends named Amy/Aimee) Upon arrival home, four hours later, I found Peter up late and working. He gave some smug looks, and asked if I had fun.

“Why?” I ask, in a very inquisitive manner.

He asks again, and me – “why!?”

He says, “I’ve just about given up parenting.” (I sigh with relief that no bones are broken or anything crazy like that.)

“Oh, is that all. What happened?”

I know good and well what happened: Dinner, homework, lots of complaining, baby tearing down Christmas (singly handedly), crying, start of dishes, jammies, more complaining, more crying, prayers and off to bed. Finish dishes, wrangle baby, pick up (didn’t get done) etc, etc, etc. I know, because I do it every day of my life. Like the movie “Groundhogs Day.”

“You know that big bottle of olive oil, from Costco? In the corner cupboard?” Continues, 'Mr. Mom.'

“Yeah?” I reply.

“I heard baby crying, and kind of flopping. I turn, and he has gotten the olive oil out, it’s tipped over, and open – and he’s covered in it. He was only in his diaper and trying to crawl over to me. But it was ‘crawl-flop-crawl-flop-cry-crash-crawl-flop’….”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of my little butter-ball turkey, in his diaper, slipping all over the floor, covered in olive oil. He is a busy one!

Now; Will this be good for his eczema? (lol)

Life as a first time mother

Remember your first baby? Did you go as nut-so as me?

I had to buy Dreft, because, of course – I wanted by baby to smell the best! Giant “HA!” here. “Uh, duh Teresa, you really can’t do just the baby’s laundry separate ALL the time. Especially at the Y Mount Laundry Mat.” (But I did for a while.)



Or how about totally baby proofing your house, after all, it’s only you and the baby. (Okay, I guess Peter was there too) Twice this last weekend I had to, screamily, stick my finger into the depths of Chubbles to retrieve one of Roo’s “jingle bells.” No matter how “picked up” I think things are; they’re not.

Maybe you bathed your little bundle every, single, without fail, no questions about it – day. Oh, I know I did. Samuel was the cleanest baby on the planet. And now? Well, you can guess. We’re doing FAN-TASTIC at every other day. That’s what scented baby wipes are for, right?

At any rate, I came to a realization. As I was changing baby today, he takes lessons for The Tasmanian Devil at changing time, I simply grabbed the nearest “toy.” Yep, a pen. A pen? Samuel didn’t even touch a pen ‘til he was three. Now it’s, “Go ahead and chew on that. What ever it takes to make you hold still and be quiet.” What have I become!? (No calling CPS, alright?!)

I also let him ride in the cart at Costco yesterday, and didn’t even wipe off the cart first. I know, ‘livin’ on the edge’ here. I let him chew on keys, he regularly climbs in the fire place –unlit, OF COURSE. He climbs onto the couch, and I say. “Well, he got up. He’ll get down.” Bad, bad mom.

So the realization? Happy medium in all things, I say. If you are horrified at this post, you have, mayyyy-be, one child. (or more, and are a woman I don’t think I can be friends with anymore. LOL) If you are laughing, saying, “Oh yeah, that’s totally me.” Then you, are as overwhelmed as 'yours truly.' But in any case, I’m awfully glad I can laugh at myself, otherwise – I’d be crying.

P.S. I know you're all saying, "Could be worse!" And I know it. Just some days are worse than others. Take my good friend for example: Last month her daughter broke her clavical at the ward Halloween party, the next week her three year old super-glued his eye shut, (Long, and very interesting story. A trip to the emergency room, an eye patch for the week, a quick surgery, and a lot of shocked people when they find out what happened. Just remember to keep super glue away from your kids!) And a week later, her five year old broke, literally, his upper arm. Primary Children's Hospital, surgery and all!

Yes, I know, things could be worse. :-)

I love my boys. If you don’t have any sons, I’m sorry. I hope someday you’ll have great sons in law, or grandsons. They really are the greatest.

This holiday weekend, we had no TV. Well, at least the majority of the time. (We did watch Kit Kitteridge. LOVED it! If you haven’t seen it, you need to. It’s a great G rated, family film.) Anywho, no TV meant a lot of crafting and building.

This is what went on most of the time:



Yes, that is Roo’s doll house I “remodeled” for her, before she was born. And yes, that is a tank in the kitchen. And those are lincoln logs all around their “base.” My boys are so creative! I love it. They could build all day long, well – that and play army.

The other thing I love? That they love me. I have never been more enamored as by my boys. They snuggle, cuddle, kiss and love more than I ever thought imaginable from children.

Samuel will put my hair behind my ears (over and over, like a mom – kind of), and say, “I love you mom. You’re the best mom in the world.”

And Simon loves to curl up real tight, like a little ball of love, and snuggle into you. (looking very much like Curious George) His words are more frank, but said in love. Like, “I love you mom, even though you have a fat tummy.” Well,…I do. He’s first to help, run and get things for me, or try to make you laugh.

I'm not trying to brag here. Just shedding a little light on how wonderful being a mother of boys can be. Oh sure, there are day's...oh, There. Are. Days! But more often than not, they are amazing.

So, if you don’t have a son, hopefully one day, you’ll get to know what they’re like. They think you hung the moon, they’re forgiving, they brighten each day, and I truly do love each of them. I'd let you borrow one of mine, but I'm busy being adored right now. (smile)

Star Struck

This is what the kids saw on Thanksgiving Eve, as we were indulging ourselves as fat, spoiled Americans. (Who goes out to eat the night before Thanksgiving?! You know you’re going to eat your guts out the next day!) He had on the most awesome red pants and striped socks.







They were terribly Star Struck. No one could say a thing. I said, "Tell him what you want." “Uhhh.” They replied. Silence. (It was very nice of him to stop and say hello, though.)

After he left, they did say A LOT. Like, “Where did he park his reindeer?” And, “The elves must be at the mall.” Samuel was very skeptical, shaking his head no, like he didn't believe it. You could see him trying to figure this out. The other two had thier wheels spinning, taking it all in.

And so it begins. I can officially listen to Christmas Music.

The Crappy Croup

I thought I had made it. Really. Four kids and not one, ever getting the croup. “Ha!” says croup, “I laugh in your face!” (said in your best Spanish accent) Yep. Chubbles has the croup. Poor chubblie wubblie. So cute, and so sick, to boot.

Thanks to a good friend’s advice, I took him to the doctor, and he did in fact have the croup. I, after four kids, and being a professional/amateur doctor, am usually quite hesitant to take my kids in. “He’ll be fine. No one else has ever had it.” Silly me.

Simon had a croupy bark a week ago, but five year olds don’t get the croup – right? Wrong. I found this out yesterday, the doctor told me I should have taken him in as well. Oops. Oh well. Had I known this, I would have made sure Si wasn’t coughing in everyone’s faces. Again, oops.

Never fear, though. Chubbles in on the mend. A steroid shot, an epinephrine nebulizer treatment and five days of oral steroids – and he should be good as new. Sheesh! Super glad I’m not a pioneer. A cough like that in the middle of the night, for them, could very possibly lead to death. ( Or like when MinnieMae had that horrible cough in Anne of Green Gables and even though Diana and Anne where forbidden to see each other, Anne trudged through the snow to save MinnieMae, and Mrs. Berry forgave all. Remember? Oh, Anne. You’re the greatest.) Thank heavens for modern medicine.

For now, we think the raspy, heavy breathing and babbling are kind of cute. And boy, it sure is muffling the loudest crier on the planets voice. (Honestly, I don’t think I have ever heard a louder cry. Cry is code for “screaming your guts out” at our house.) That, I will say, is a bonus.