Random

[written last week, but I forgot to post it!]

-We finished our standardized testing today.  I am so relieved.  One of my testers got a little weepy every time he came to a problem that was challenging, so it was a little rough.  I think the whole idea of testing stresses my kids out.  They are never tested until standardized testing rolls around, and then suddenly they feel all this pressure to get.it.exactly.right.  Quite frankly, I don't put much stock in it.  I do it because we have to.  But- truly: I know my kids are doing just fine.  I think they're smart.  And if my son doesn't know how to do division yet?  That's perfectly fine with me.  He will.  He will learn it eventually.

-Now we're officially on summer vacation. 

-I am exhausted.  I began the month of May (or maybe it was even April?) with my normal end-of-the-year zeal to plan for next year: I started making lists, reading, talking with Mark, and praying through ideas-for-next-year.... but in the past few weeks I have completely lost ALL motivation to do anything school-planning related (or meal-planning related, or house-cleaning related...).  I just need rest.  I know I'll get there eventually, but right now I just can't.  I am tired.  Mentally and emotionally, I feel weary. 

-That reminds me of a post I read recently by Jen Hatmaker that was hilarious.  If you're weary at the end of your school year, then go read this: Worst End of School Year Mom Ever.  I was in tears.  It is that funny.

-Last night I printed off this Bible Reading Checklist for Isaac, 9.  I think he'll use it.  He doesn't like to follow a plan.  He'd rather read what he likes when he likes. This is simply a checklist.  Each book and chapter of the Bible is listed, and when you read something, you check it off. 
(HT: Mystie)

-This is also completely random, but since Google reader is closing down as of July 1 and that's the site I've been reading blogs through, I've switched to feedly  and I like it very much.  Just in case anyone else is trying to figure out an alternative to Google reader.

Okay.  That's it.  I hope you're all doing well as you end the school year!

Wednesday, December 7th

Last night we had a bit of a long night.  Audra (2) woke up sometime around two o'clock, hollering for daddy, and he went in to settle her.  (Me? I went back to sleep.)  I don't know how long he was in there, but I heard her calling again at around 3:40.  Mark was getting out of bed to go to her and told me then that this was the fourth (!) time she had called him since that initial two o'clock wake-up.  I was awake, then- and listening to all the goings-ons, and hoping she wasn't going to wake the other girls, and ready to assist if he needed me.  Then I heard Ella's voice, and Audra asking, "Daddy?  Will you please scratch my back?"  ;)  He did that, yes he did, at 4 in the morning, because that's the kind of amazing daddy that he is.

We all went back to sleep sometime in the 4 o'clock hour.  I left a little after 6 to exercise and when I got back, I came back to bed.  I then asked Mark for a recap of the night (in my foggy middle-of-the-night state I hadn't understood why Audra had initially called out-- Did she have a bad dream?  Was she sad/scared?)  As Mark was giving me the timeline of events, he said that after the second time he'd soothed Audra back to sleep, he went back to bed only to hear Adelia (3) calling out for him.  He went in to her- quickly- as to not wake Audra again- and Adelia asked him to find one of her stuffed animals that she likes to sleep with.  (I think he said no, he could not find that right now, as it was dark, and to please go to sleep.)  He went back to bed, and then Adelia began calling "Dadddddyyy"- quietly at first, then more loudly.

Then Mark overheard Audra, now awake, holler from her bed to Adelia: "He's MY daddy!"  Mark heard them bicker about that for a few minutes (Adelia replying, "He's my daddy!" and so on...) and then they quieted.  Mark and I were laughing about it this morning- it reminded me of the whole idea of getting your dance card punched- it was as if Audra was telling Adelia that she had daddy reserved for the entire night and Adelia could not use him.  Silly girls.  Wonderful husband and father.

Larry the Tooth Fairy

Isaac lost his first tooth yesterday! He's extremely happy about it. (Isaias, who is a year and a half *younger* than him, has already lost four or five teeth (I lose track) and Isaac has been earnestly hoping his tooth would fall out.)


I asked him last night if he was concerned at all about the tooth fairy flying into his room. Isaac is my boy who can be a little fearful so I wanted to be sure he wasn't alarmed at the idea. He said he wasn't, and then I assured him that she was just a little thing with wings and that she wasn't anything to be scared of anyway. Isaac's response to that was: "She?! I don't want a girl tooth fairy."

Mark didn't miss a beat. "Oh, okay. So you're hoping for Larry the Tooth Fairy, then. He's a good one. Kind of big, though. Don't know if he'll make it through the door." Mark kept wondering aloud about which tooth fairy would show up.

Would it be Harry the Tooth Fairy? Harry's pretty hairy, though, and hopefully all that hair doesn't tickle your face when he comes over to slip money under your pillow.

Maybe it will be Jerry.

There's always Gary, too.

Then Ella and I caught on and started in on how sweet Sherry the Tooth Fairy is. And Carrie and Mary, too... and was he sure he didn't want one of them?

Isaac was giggling. He's a little iffy about whether there's a tooth fairy at all, but we sure seemed to know a lot of them- and by name!

Mark and I were talking later about how we should start leaving notes and signing them by the various tooth fairies that come to our house. (When they remember to come. Sometimes those tooth fairies are so forgetful! Sometimes our kids even have to write reminder notes for the tooth fairy and tape it on their doors! ;))

This morning at breakfast I asked Isaac if the tooth fairy had come, and- which one did he think came? He thought probably it was Gary the Tooth Fairy.

Then he said, "But daddy says there's one named 'Jack Squat', too, and sometimes he's the one that comes."

A couple hours later and I'm still chuckling that Mark told him there was a tooth fairy named Jack Squat.

When a three-letter word makes all the difference

According to Ella

Ella, while coloring a picture with three squirrels in it:

"Isaias wanted me to color a squirrel pink, so I colored this one pink and it's the baby.

... And I decided that this one is the mommy because she's fat."

Me:

"Wait, WHAT?! Fat? Mommies are fat?"

Ella, not missing a beat:

"Well, mommy. She *just* had her baby."

How we entertain ourselves

Feeding the ducks

Today was Mark's day off, and we decided we should get out and do something fun with the kids. He suggested that we head to the lake and feed the ducks. I thought that was a grand idea, since Adelia is at that fun stage of loving all animals and practicing their sounds, and she's never fed the ducks before.

So we picked up some cheap bread, drove to the lake, and fed the ducks.

Adelia thought that was the greatest thing since sliced bread because, well, there was sliced bread.




She really barely noticed the fact that there were ducks there. She was simply thrilled that we handed her a slice of bread and she got to snack while we did whatever it was we were doing.

It totally cracked me up.

I laughed so hard I cried.

Read this.

School and tigers

A few mornings ago, I walked into the living room to this scene:

Ella was busy playing schoolteacher, [being Laura, from Little House on the Prairie]. She was in the middle of handing Isaias a book, a piece of paper, and a pencil.

Isaac was already all set up, given the name Clarence, and instructed to write his name ten times. [It was explained to me that he'd been naughty and this was his punishment.]

Isaias' new name? Almanzo.

Ella (I mean, Laura) was writing A's and B's on a piece of paper and asking Isaias to circle all the A's. He was patiently obliging.

When I walked through a couple of minutes later she had begun to read aloud a chapter from a nearby book. The boys, apparently, had been instructed to sit still and listen quietly.

And then I overheard "Almanzo" ask,

"Excuse me. Ella? Is it okay if I be a tiger first?"

Afterall, for a three-year old? Playing tiger rates much, much higher than playing school.


***


Oh, and here's a picture of our not-so-fierce tiger earlier this summer:

The voice of God

[Mark just told me about a conversation he had with Isaac tonight and I thought it was so funny I told him he had to post it. So here it is, in Mark's words:]

:::

It seems Isaac has been particularly fond of seeing his daddy lately. As a matter of fact, he is getting up early -- really early -- just to see me before I go to work. Since tomorrow is Sunday and I will not be going to work and we hope to sleep in a little bit (past the 6 a.m. wakeup he gave us this morning), I decided to have a little talk with him before bed tonight.

Daddy: "You've been waking up early to see daddy, haven't you buddy?"

Isaac: "Yes."

Daddy: "Okay, well since tomorrow is Sunday, I'll be home all day, so I'll be here no matter how late you get up. So if you wake up and are still feeling sleepy, you can just go back to sleep."

Isaac: "But what if I see a little bit of sunshine in the window?"

Daddy: "Well, it does get light really early, so if you see the sun and you're still sleepy, just go back to sleep."

Isaac: "But what if I hear the voice of God, and He's telling me to get out of bed?"

Daddy: "Well, if you hear God's voice, you better do what He says."

Isaac: "But what if I hear a big scary voice telling me to get back in bed?"

Daddy: "That will be your daddy."

Strawberry picking

I wasn't super motivated to go strawberry picking this year. It's just been so hot. Plus, Mark is usually at work during strawberry picking hours and the thought of me hauling the four kids out to the berry farm isn't too enticing. Especially since Addie would have to be carried by me-- would I really be able to pick?

I did want to make some Strawberry-Rhubarb Jam this year, though. So today Mark said he'd try to finish up a bit early so that we could all go out.

The first farm we drove into we saw them chopping down the strawberry plants. Arghh. Maybe I'd missed the season altogether. When I stopped and asked, she said, "Our last day of strawberries was yesterday." Ugh.

Onto the next farm. The sign still read Strawberries: U Pick, so I was hopeful. When we asked, she sort of shrugged and said, "There's a few left out there. Kinda like a treasure hunt. Feel free to pick wherever. Good luck."

Super.

I thought "Treasure Hunt" would really get the kids fired up, though, so I whooped about how much fun this was going to be and into the fields we went. It was very slim picking. We found one berry every 5 feet or something. [Note to self: Next year do not wait until the third week of July to pick strawberries.]

But we persevered and found 13 lbs worth of berries~ enough for a bit of jam~ and some pictures to boot.





Funny story about the berry farm we were at today. But a little history, first. This farm- that my mom has gone to for years, because they're the cheapest and that's what matters to her- has raspberries and blueberries in addition to strawberries.

This is the very same farm where I was swarmed by a mob of angry bees two years ago.

And a couple of years prior to the bee incident, it was at this farm that my sister, while picking blueberries, saw a green hose wrapped around the bush. But no- then the hose moved, and she quickly ascertained that it was actually a green SNAKE. ~shudder~
I did not happen to be there, near the snake, at that time, but just the knowledge of it was enough for me to change berry farms.

A couple of years ago (before the bees but after the snake), my mom and I went out to said berry farm [mom was driving; she picked the farm] to pick some strawberries. It was a bad year. The berries were small and we were disappointed. When we went up to pay for the berries, we made some comment to the teenaged girl behind the stand: "Not a great year for the strawberries, huh?" She was quick to agree: "No. It's been a terrible year, actually. Our fields were infested with weasels this year."

My mom and I simultaneously had an alarming image of a bunch of these fellows roaming through the strawberry fields we'd just been in.

.
.
.
.

No. Surely not.

We clarified, incredulously: "Really? Weasels? They eat strawberries?"

"Yes," she said, quite seriously. "It's been terrible for our fields."

Well.

Thankfully we hadn't seen any.

When we'd stepped away from the stand my mom and I looked at each other and said aloud, at the same time: "Weasels?!" (Like-- is she for reals?)

And then it dawned on us: what she'd surely meant was that their fields had been infested with weevils, not weasels, as she'd said.

On the way home we laughed so hard the tears were streaming down our faces. Every year since we revisit the weasel story and laugh about it until our sides ache.

Because the image of one of us bending down for a berry and seeing one of these guys peering at us through the bushes? Or- heaven forbid- scampering across our feet as we walked through the fields?



More than we can bear.

I wonder how many other U-pickers she told about the weasels before she realized- oops! - it was actually weevils. Hilarious!

Why you should never paint your kitchen yellow

[updated: with photos]

Because it's quite near impossible to find just the right shade of yellow, that's why.

Prior to the saga of repainting our kitchen (which, for the record, was already yellow to begin with), I felt pretty confident with my gifts in choosing color for my walls.

Not so anymore.

What I feel now is pretty confident that I should hire an interior decorator next time. (Which will never happen, by the way.) So I am through with painting for a very long time.

What happened was that on a whim (Ahem. Never a good start.) I decided that I wanted a fresh coat of paint in our kitchen, and I wanted blue this time! So I chose a pretty shade of blue. It truly was lovely, but on my kitchen walls, I hated it.

It made our kitchen look so cold I practically shivered each time I entered the room. Mark didn't really get all of my inquiries to the tune of: "But doesn't it feel COLD in here, now? As in, a little icy?"

He says he's never felt warm or cold about any color before, ever in his life.

I think he just didn't want to paint it all over again.

But, being the best husband in the world, and not wanting me to hate my kitchen, since I do spend an awful lot of time in there, he said we should change it.

So I went back to the paint store to find something to cover the lovely shade of blue that did not belong on our kitchen walls. I came back with several yellow swatches-- I wanted a warm, sunny yellow--but none really stood out to me. So Mark stopped at another paint store and cleaned out all of their yellow paint swatches. Didn't like those either. So he went to another store and brought back several more. Who knew there were so many shades of yellow? And so few warm, sunny yellows, to boot?

We finally settled on one. It looked warm and sunny on the little card. However. On our walls? It looked yellow/gold. Imagine with me, if you will, the yellow hue of McDonalds' golden arches? Mmm hmm. Pretty much.

All over my kitchen.

Not so much the "warm and sunny" shade of yellow I was looking for.

Too bad that as we were painting it on I kept saying to Mark, "I am so thankful to cover up this blue. Thank you for doing this all over again. I promise that no matter what this looks like, I'll keep it up for two years, honey." When all was said and done I nearly had to put on sunglasses to walk into my kitchen because it was so glaringly bright (what were we thinking, choosing that horrific color?!). And, honestly, there were a few tears on my part (I felt terrible that I couldn't get it right and we were basically pouring time and money down the drain.) I despised it so much that Mark took pity on me and said we could paint- again.

Back to all the little paint cards. No need to head to any more stores; we already had every single yellow paint card in town. But alas, there were no warm, sunny yellows.

And so. Back to the original store. Found an entirely new paint card with a paint color called Sunglow, which sounds perfect as far as the "warm and sunny" stipulation, and it looked about two shades lighter and less gold in tone than the paint currently on our walls [cringe], so we hoped to get it right on the third try.

We did.

Newly painted kitchen in a warm and sunny yellow?

Check.

[Although Mark tells me he's pretty sure we're back where we started. He thinks it looks awfully similar to the yellow we'd had on our walls prior to my whim. But I think it's quite different. And since he's such a champ he's humoring me.]

And. In my defense, and this is what I was trying to impress to Mark at the time of painting the primer for paint choice #2, I really am very easy to please. I had the original yellow on my walls for 8 years. And while many women want entire remodels and new cabinets and fixtures, I, on the other hand, am entirely happy with a $30 can of paint (or three) and rearranging the furniture we already own.

As for the blogging break, I think I'm done. I missed you! How are you? And while you're answering that, do tell me some of your own painting disasters, why don't you? It will make me feel so much better.

Okay. Here are a few pictures:
(with flash)


(without flash)


And. As I was uploading those, I found proof of our horrific paint color #2, right here:


So now you see. (Although the photo really does not do it's ickyness justice.)

Snacks, anyone?

Yesterday morning. Isaac, getting dressed, halfway through putting his shirt on. I walked into the room, noticing that he's just put something tiny into his mouth.

Me: "What's that?"

Isaac: "Some things are in my eye that I can eat."

I'm still laughing about it. It was just so matter-of-fact. As if he said, "God put things in the corner of my eye just so that I could have an occasional snack!"

Last night at the dinner table

Isaias (2): "I need a picko." [translation: pickle]

Mark and I together: "You need a what?"

Isaias: "A picko."

Me, bewildered (I think he's had one or two ever in his life): "Why would you want a pickle?"

Isaias: "'Coz I have corn in my teef."

Aha... a pickle. You know. Those pickles come in really handy for getting stuff out of your teeth.

But I think he actually meant "toothpick."

A little chaos

Yesterday morning I gave the boys haircuts and all of the kids baths. It was a bit chaotic, since all of this happened in our bathroom which is about 3 feet wide. (Also, the floor in that bathroom is in re-finishing mode because some previous owner decided to lay linoleum on top of hardwood. Which is more than annoying, but I won't go into it here, other than to say they did it to the kitchen floor as well.)

But that's beside the point. Our small bathroom with everyone in it has the tendancy to make me a bit crazy sometimes. Isaias was in the tub, I was cleaning up his just-cut hair from the floor (which is a complete OTHER problem. Isaias' hair is permanently placed when it falls anywhere.) Ella was just out of the tub and was supposed to be getting dressed but didn't want to because her hair was wet and she wanted me to dry it first so she was getting herself positioned near the hair dryer, and I was trying to pry Isaac from the book he was reading (as he sat in the doorway, which happened to be smack dab next to the hair dryer. Which was where Ella was trying to manuever herself. But Isaac was there. But he wasn't supposed to be there because I was telling him to come for his haircut.) Oh, and I was trying to keep my eye on Isaias so that he wouldn't drown. And he happened to be yelling, over and over again: "Wook at me, mommy! I being fishy!" Which is actually really handy, the yelling. Because when they're yelling they can't be drowning so I didn't have to be watching as much as listening.

Anyway, I finally sat myself in front of Ella's hair and saw a tangled mess. Anyone with long-haired girls knows this look. It was a sight. So I hoisted myself up, reached across the hall to where our little bathroom cupboard is sitting while we refinish the floor, and grabbed the detangler spritzer bottle from atop the cupboard. I sprayed a few generous squirts on Ella's hair as I reached for the comb, then settled in for the task ahead. And immediately realized my error.

This is what I'd grabbed from atop the cupboard:


Yes, that would be sunscreen.

SUNSCREEN.

Sprayed liberally on my daughter's hair.

Right after her BATH.

Does anyone feel sorry for me in that moment?

It wouldn't be so bad if this type of thing didn't happen to me so regularly, but it just DOES.

But in my defense, both bottles *are* pink. And very near the same heighth (and just so you know, I've stared at that word, "heighth", now for approximately 3 full minutes. Re-typing, re-spelling, staring. It looks so very wrong. Or maybe it's not heighth at ALL but is simply height? I have NO idea. Help me out, here, people.)

So anyway: same color, same tall-ness, same locale. (Although we may be changing the location of the sunscreen bottle. Especially since we only have need to use it about twice a year. No sense having these types of mishaps for twice a year-usage, in my opinion.)

The happy report is that sunscreen comes out a WHOLE lot easier than vaseline does.

***
By the way, I am now fully convinced (upon further staring) that "heighth" is not a word. Or at least, that's not the proper spelling of the word. If it is a word. But I need to go now so I don't have time to look it up. Someone must know these things.

Overheard

Isaac (3): What do you want to be?

Isaias (2): A boy.

Isaac (3): Nooo. What do you want to be when you grow up?

Isaias (2): A bad guy.

Mama: No you don't. You don't want to be a bad guy.

Isaac (3): You can be a rocket ship or a swimmer. What do you want to be?

Isaias (2): A lion.

***

Well.
That settles it, then.

Evening with daddy

Participants:
-One fierce lion, prowling around in our dark basement.
-Three happy children.
Equipment:
-3 flashlights, gripped tightly and shining.

Gathering courage on the stairs

Descending into the lions den

*Yikes!* Little hearts are beating fast

Settling in a little further up the stairs after that encounter

Feeling pretty brave now that mama's in between them and the lion (and mama is feeling a bit jumpy that the lion may try to grab *her*)

Feeling so at ease they ventured all the way down the stairs and....

Caught!

Found

Climbing into the van yesterday, with the kids:

Isaac, (3) as I'm buckling him into his seatbelt, and clutching a few Cheerios:
"Mommy, can I eat these?"

Me: "Oh. Where'd you get those?"

Isaac: "I found them."

Me: "Where'd you find them?"

Isaac: "I found them in the box of Cheerios on the table."

Aha! At least he's honest.

***

On another note, our caseworkers will be here in a couple of hours to do our individual home study interviews, Mark first, me second (covering our family backgrounds, etc).

We have a very full next couple of days, and are finishing the week with yet another home study visit on Friday, *and* the weather is beautiful, so I won't be posting again this week!

Have a wonderful rest-of-your-week and weekend!

Oh-so important

I was reminded yesterday of an oh-so important task of mothering little ones:

Get down on the floor. And I don't mean on your knees in prayer (although we should also do that). What I mean is this: walk into the room your children are in, and get down on the floor.

Try lying down in the middle of the room. They will not leave you alone for long. Pretty soon each child will be on you, wrestling, tickling, or wanting a ride on your back. Or-- if you have a daughter: trying to turn the event into a game of house. "Let's say I'm your mommy and you're my baby and you're taking a nap..." [Always a nice game to play, I think.]

Or this: get down on your hands and knees and pretend to be a lion or a bear, replete with growls (as ferocious as you dare), and hunt them down. My children all run squealing into a corner. Then when I meet up with them, I burrow my head in their tummies and tickle them. (When my youngest is afraid of the growling, I ask him to join me. He can be a lion, too! And we'll get them together!) Or go with the sleeping theme-- pretend you're some animal, sleeping on the floor. And they'll gather up the courage to creep up to you, with whispers and many urgent, "You go. You go first"'s and then just when they get to you, surprise them with tickles.

Yesterday I sat on the floor and we ended up in a pillow fight. I laughed harder than I have in weeks. I loved it. And they did, too.

I tend to be a pretty task-oriented person, dutifully making and checking off my lists throughout the day. And some days I am so on TASK that I have forgotten to just BE with my children. Yesterday was a great reminder to me. It was so good to laugh with pure delight at their antics. To tune out the waiting dishes, meal preparation and straightening up and just enjoy them.

For all I know, everyone else has this same kind of crazy fun in their house, too. But if perchance you don't, I encourage you to begin!

Henriletta

This is Isaac's chick, Henriletta (that's how he pronounces "Henrietta")

I'm not sure if you can quite capture the look of alarm on little Henriletta's face, here.


You can? Oh, good. I was hoping. Isn't that hilarious?