Five Letter Words

By some magical unknown power in the universe, our first three children's names all had five letters. Add M-O-M-M-Y and D-A-D-D-Y and the whole family was united in theme. I don't remember when the realization was made, but I do recall that it was outside with sidewalk chalk when we discovered that all of our names perfectly aligned. And so, it was no accident that our fourth and final child just had to have five letters in his name as well. It may seem trivial, but as we discussed numerous names at the dinner table, our children already sensed baby feeling left out at the mention of Jonathan or Jefferson. Thus it was finalized and we are perfected in our five letter naming. And really it is quite convenient.

When learning to spell their names, we can use the same song otherwise sung about a dog named B-I-N-G-O. The names are short enough that nobody has shortened them, thus far. And lately we've discovered another convenience when it comes to competitions in our house. We call them "games" but they are rather competitive. Today it was the "nose picking game". Each member of the family had their letters up on the chalk board and whenever someone was caught picking their nose a letter could be erased by the "catcher". Gross, I know. But it's gotten to this point where the habit has to be curbed somehow. Whoever had any letters left at the end of the day would get a piece of Halloween candy (and yes, somehow they still go for the rock hard bribe). At one point, the winning nose picker and leading loser of our game whined that it wasn't fair since his name was so short (or so it appeared at this point on the chalkboard). Thankfully, all of my children were named equally and so the whining had to cease, as it was unmerited. I can't wait to discover any other uses for this mathematically correct way of naming our offspring.

Child Labour

We start 'em young over here...

He's so intent... look at that face... and he even went under the loveseat! If you're wondering where his pants are, well, his next job is the pile of laundry on the couch!!!

Let it Snow!

It snowed a bit here...

some sources say 12", others say 19"...

Regardless, it makes it seem much brighter out there and we are spending much more time playing outside catching happy rays and having fun.

The baby stepped out in the snow for his first time yesterday and just sort of stood there. Not that he could move much if wanted to, with snow up to his knees and bundled up like an astronaut. He did enjoy sitting in the wagon and being pulled (good exercise, I tell ya) and actually screamed and banged on the window when I brought his cold body back inside.

Today we have even more snow. All school is cancelled (which means homeschool for everyone - though they hardly know it since it's so much fun learning at home), and also a morning spent outside. No wagon pulling today - it's way too deep. But Baby pulled his own and really trudged through the snow in order to climb steep hills, daringly slide down on his own and even throw snowballs at his siblings! Little E, who HATES snow and cold with a passion dug a deep hole, is collecting "boulders" and could hardly be pulled away from his collection when tempted with donuts and hot chocolate to come inside. We've had a few cases of frost bite... but it's curable! Slapping his mitten on the snowback and creating "mitten" prints. He can't get enough of the snow! The "hole" with the "boulder collection" at the top of a snowbank!

Hear Me ROAR!

I’m starting to think that bears, and other hibernating animals, have the right idea. Lately I’ve been feeling a lot like hibernating myself. What is it about winter that makes me so much more sleepy than any other time? I can’t get enough sleep at night, and my body is begging for a rest either early afternoon or right after dinner. I have zero enthusiasm for food and meals, and yet that doesn’t stop my body from begging for delicious desserts and delicacies and putting on that extra winter weight. Going outside is miserable to me. We finally have our first “acceptable” amount of snow, but pretty much it’s been cold and boring outside. My half hour walk a day just isn’t giving me the right dosage of vitamin D or happiness that supposedly sun and fresh air bring. I’m grumpy. Yes the January blues are typical and expected, but the fact that it’s hitting so late in the month makes me feel like it will last an eternity. I really do feel like a grumpy old bear, and I think I may prefer not to be bothered until sometime early spring. Anyone want to join me in my lair?

When I Grow Up...

Mr. T had a follow-up from his surgery last May. Everything looks wonderful. We couldn't be happier.

I don't know if this stemmed from the trip up to the hospital, but he just told me:

"When I grow up I'm going to be a doctor. I'm going to be the kind of doctor that helps make people better. So Mom, if you're sick, I'll even come to your house so you don't have to make an appointment or wait in a waiting room... I'll just come to you and make you better."

Sounds like a great plan.

Little E, trying to one up his big brother is going to do magic when he grows up. He's practicing right now... making a feather disappear inside a straw - spectacular. He also claims he'll be able to make me better with his magic when he grows up to be Harry Potter. I can't wait.

(And no, I'm not sick... in any way shape or form!)

Waking Up on the Wrong Side of the Bed

With all of Mr. Man’s recent and constant travels, I’ve acquired several new bedmates. Somehow they can sense that my bed is only half full and it must leave some sort of unbalanced feeling in the house so that one, two or all three boys will at some point in the night come to my half-empty-bed rescue. Ironically one night, Mr. T, who is the craziest sleeper (meaning he moves around like he’s in some sort of wrestling match with his blankets, and wins every night) was in bed with Baby J and I and finally announced that he thought the baby was wiggling around too much and he couldn’t sleep so could we send him back to his own bed? I thought it was a great idea and sent them both back to their own beds. Now that Mr. Man has spent a couple of nights at home, the result is that they keep trying to get into my bed and find that there isn’t a spot for them… this results in tears and hurt feelings and the need for compassion and an escort back to their own beds… over and over again. Needless to say, I’m tired. Last night Mr. Man reasoned that we should trade sides of the bed – which is very brave of him for two reasons. First, it means he may have a rough night sleep, fending off the children and second, because it is due to his fear of the dark, the boogie man and any home invader that keeps him from sleeping next to the door in the first place. So we switched sides. Just knowing I wouldn’t have to deal with a kajillion awakenings helped me to sleep better. Mr. Man awoke early to get a head start on his day and I couldn’t believe how well I had slept. I thanked him and asked how bad it was. Knowing he can sleep through a fog horn, he admitted he hadn’t heard a thing all night and asked if I had. So it was a good night, or so it seemed. A while after he left, Baby J awoke. Being the lazy morning mother that I am, I brought him back into bed to me for a morning nurse so we could both sleep just a little bit longer. His soft little fuzzy head was just beneath my chin and I leaned over to smell his still sweet baby smell… and I nearly died. He stunk so bad, and he had just had a bath before bed. The smell was intoxicating, and so familiar… it wasn’t until the other three joined us in bed that I realized he smelled like vomit. That’s when our lazy morning sprung to action… somehow he had thrown up in his bed and all over himself in the night without either of us hearing it. I felt horrible, as did Mr. Man upon hearing the account. If waking up on the wrong side of the bed entails picking up piles of puke and sanitizing and bathing first thing in the morning, I think I may just take the lack of sleep. Gross. (By the way, he hasn’t been sick since and seems fine, eating normally and everything. I think it was the ice cream we had last night and his little semi-lactose-intolerant belly just couldn't handle it.)

Fortune Cookie

Without going into details, Mr. Man has been traveling all over lately for interviews. I keep telling myself this is good. It is good. It is also exhausting and stressful - for both of us. Thankfully he was able to spend this past weekend at home with us before departing for another busy week. While he enjoyed being with the family, he insisted we have time alone as well. And thanks to great last minute babysitters, we enjoyed some good Chinese food and conversation. When we were leaving and were handed our fortune cookies, Mr. Man was a bit trepidatious and before taking his inquired as to if they were good fortunes. "Always" was the reply. He still didn't want to open his... so I did the honor, and really it was. As trying as all the travelling and constant presentations are for him, his fortune Saturday was "You need not worry about your future." Mine read, "Sing and rejoice, fortune is smiling."

I'm suddenly feeling quite superstitious.

Integration

With MLK day just around the corner, we've been talking and reading about civil rights and freedoms, and of course the great dreams and realities that took so long to come to be. Children are so precious in their views of equality, and it's hard for them to comprehend a world full of such hatred. At any rate, for one activity this week I had the boys read a few books about Martin Luther King Jr.'s life and spectacular speech and then draw a picture representing his dream. They were convinced they had to draw Dr. King with a big microphone (as you can see), and slowly the drawings changed to include not only black and white little boys playing together, but Yoda as well. When describing these pictures to my brother, he insisted that Dr. King would be impressed with their inclusion as that is REAL integration.

Odds and Ends

I love natural consequences. It is so fabulously delicious when it works out and one simply falls into my amateur parenting hands. We had one such instance the other night when all the stars aligned and Mr. Man and I were just gleeful at how perfect the natural consequence was. Miss J had stayed up WAY past her bedtime and was sassy about it too. Mr. Man told her that she would have to go to bed early in order to make up the same amount of sleep that she had missed. So she not only had to go to bed uncharacteristically early, but, like I said, the natural consequence was lovely in that it was the night that her beloved “American Idol” was on. And she missed it. Choices.

It’s been cold here compared to our regular mild winters, but it brings back such fond memories for me of Canadian winters. We’ve had delays for school, which seems so odd when I look out and my car doesn’t even need to be scraped. I truly remember walking to the bus stop (which was farther away than we walk Miss J to school) all bundled up while my Mom pulled some of my siblings in a sled through a blizzard, with snow piled up above my head on either side of the sidewalk. But apparently it is dangerously cold here. Today when we walked Miss J to school (after the 2 hour delay) I had people calling me crazy, but the kids found it remarkable that they could sniff and their boogers would freeze on the spot. Definitely fond childhood memories. I was smiling so much my teeth were freezing!

Eggplant was on sale the other day, and I couldn’t resist. It’s not that I adore the taste of eggplant, though I do like it, but I am utterly attracted to eggplant. I have it sitting on my counter and if just looks so beautiful there, I hate to have to cut and cook it. Truly, the most sensuous vegetable I have had the chance to lay eyes on. Mmmmmmm.

We had the missionaries over for dinner tonight, and Miss J initiated the conversation by stating, “I got in big trouble this morning.” The kind missionary asked, “With who?” I was impressed with the answer my daughter gave: “With myself. I was trying to get the water out of the fridge and I knocked a big jar of spaghetti sauce and the jar broke into a million pieces of glass and the sauce was everywhere and it was a big mess. Mom was not happy. But then we made cookies and ate them with milk and everything was better.” I love that kisses, cookies and milk still can save a day.

Thank you?

I have to share... because I am dying over this!

My son brought home a thank you note from his preschool teacher today. The note read:

"Thank you so much for the yummy Christmas mints! I absolutely love dark chocolate and these are the perfect treat. You are so sweet to think of me. Thank you again!"

Not a big deal unless you are aware of what the gift was. We made fabric covered magnets -totally cute - for our teachers this year, and put them in decorated empty chocolate flavoured altoid tins. I have a few presumptions, but I'm not sure how to proceed:

1. This teacher is as blonde as she looks (I can say this because I am a blonde, but you all know what I mean without having to slander anyone)
2. If #1 is correct, said teacher may have swallowed several magnets, buttons and fabric and thought they tasted like chocolate.
3. She didn't even open up the tin, wrote the thank you note and threw our precious creation away because really she hates chocolate flavoured mints.
4. She is an enthusiastic thank you card writer (with which I find no fault) and simply wrote the card before opening the gift and is now dying over what she wrote before knowing what she was given.

So, do I ask her how they really tasted?

It's Official

We’re moving. No, we have no clue where or when. But I can feel it so very deeply, and interestingly enough I am in mourning, per say. Oh I’m thrilled to pieces, absolutely excited about what the future may hold for our little family. We speak constantly of this adventure we are on… not so much a “choose your own adventure”… more a “they choose us” adventure, but still, an adventure nonetheless. I can just picture the home we will make our own, the stages and ages that all will be as we make this change; the sense of stability and of knowing will be wonderful. I can’t wait. And yet, this has become home for so much longer than any other home in our married life, and so I don’t doubt I will be homesick. The walls and railing here are badly in need of paint. I wait until we are moving, but I will also be painting over years of childhood fingerprints – three separate three year olds have hung and swung on those railings (breaking one off at least twice). The growth chart we have penciled in on the wall will be gone. There will once again be grass in the great mud pit we call our backyard, but it won’t be any fun once we’re gone. Our little home is the largest house we’ve had, and it holds a large portion of my family and child-rearing memories and moments. Somewhere in our passing through to spend a few years going to school, we settled in. My heart is heavy when I think of the friends we will leave behind, even ones who are leaving or have already left will still stay with this moment in time. And it’s hard. As I begin the reaching out to moms in other towns, braving the initial email begging for the inside scoop on their niche in the world, I realize what I am leaving. In fact, I’m making Mr. Man apply for a “back-up” position right here in town, and while it would be career defacing for him, we would all be pretty happy. Regardless, our adventure is happening right before our eyes and may take us anywhere. And as long as we are together and have more memories to make, we should live happily ever after; I hear fingerprints follow you wherever you go.

Spelling Sentences

2nd Grade Homework: Use the following spelling words in complete sentences. Underline each spelling word.

So, do we let our daughter turn this sentence in?

"I shook the baby until he fell to sleep. I stood there and slept."

Hmmmmmm.

Small Town Girl

So here I am in San Francisco, California – and gee, it’s actually kind of cold. I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect a lot of what is here… really I’ve led quite a sheltered life. The sounds and smells of a big city are both intoxicating and a bit inhibiting – at least for me. There are people everywhere, and constant noise. I understand better the meaning behind wanting to escape the city. While I love the thrill of walking around these hilly streets, exploring the fun stores I’ve only ever seen in movies and could never actually afford to shop in, hustling and bustling along with everyone else who all obviously have somewhere very important to be going – or is that just the pace of this city – I don’t know, I miss my small town. The smells are as loud as the sirens and trolley bells, and they linger on my hair and clothing. There is no escape. The lines are long. The stores are full of people. How can you make a decision of what to buy when you are shoulder to shoulder with dozens of others, their voices competing with the thundering music that blares and drowns out your heartbeat that threatens to explode? I can’t. I can hardly browse, let alone breathe. I suppose I’ve been spoiled with so much peace and solitude in my life. I’ve become slow-paced and relaxed and could hardly deal with a long line-up at The Cheesecake Factory – though the reward was more than scrumptious. Riding elevators reaching the maximum capacity makes my small townhome filled with family seem like a mansion. The homeless beggars are everywhere, and there are people from all over the world within a few small blocks. Homeless or not, they have made the city their home. Or perhaps they are just visiting, as am I. So for a few days I will enjoy the thrill of big city life, knowing that my quiet life awaits, and this will just be a short but enjoyable adventure. Where else can I find palm trees surrounding an outdoor ice rink with Tiffany and Co. overlooking? Funny, I never thought of myself as a small town girl… nor have I thought of my life as a mother of four quiet. Perspective is a powerful and pleasant precept.

I AM HERE

It's interview time for Mr. Man. Wish us luck.