TheHenrichsens.com

This was my Mother’s Day Gift. Just try ‘em one of these mornings during your three day weekend. You won’t be disappointed, I promise!

Heat 1 cup of the milk and the butter in the microwave until butter is almost melted. Add remaining 3/4 cup of milk to cool. Whisk dry ingredients in a large bowl. Gradually whisk in the milk until well blended. In a small bowl, whisk the eggs and vanilla. Whisk the eggs into the batter until blended. Scrape sides of bowl with a rubber spatula, cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap, and REFRIGERATE OVERNIGHT.

Heat the waffle iron. Remove the batter from the refrigerator. It will be doubled in size. Stir it down to deflate. Bake waffles according to your waffle iron’s directions. Serve immediately. Makes about 6 round (7-inch) waffles or 4 square (9-inch) waffles.

I took the chickens outside today. Mostly they just stood around and acted dumb–but we already knew they weren’t so smart. The only time Wilburt seemed to venture away from Lucky was when our neighbor Elizabeth came by with her dog, Skyler. Then Wilburt was all friendly and curious and came right over to Skyler for a closer look. I’ve decided to move the chickens into the garage because they are getting a little too stinky for my liking, especially in the house. Hopefully this weekend we’ll get them their very own coop and they won’t be such a hastle anymore. Lucky is a delightful hen and if all my chickens had turned out like her, I’d probably do this again. She’s very calm and doesn’t freak out like Wilburt when you try to hold her. Wilburt sqwacks and protests anytime you get close and I think she has “coccidosis” which pretty much means runny poop, or rather, big mess for me. Everyone seems to love her best though–so I wonder, why hasn’t anyone taken her yet? Anyone? Free chickens. . . anyone? Let’s just hope their eggs (if they even lay any) taste really good and that they lay a lot of them.

So we have this big tree/bush to the left of our front yard. Really, it’s our neighbor’s tree, but if you ask the boys they’ll tell you it’s their hideout. They love to climb in there and climb up to the tippy-top of the branches, almost high enough to stick their heads out the top. And the best part is. . . no adult could possibly squeeze themselves inside that tree. It’s for little kids only and I suppose, that’s exactly how a boys’ hideout should be, don’t you?

Tonight, Hunter and Noah went to bed listening to “Silly Songs” by the Veggie Tales. Huter asked me how they made the c.d. and the rest of our conversation went like this:

Mom: Well, they find someone with a silly voice and record them singing. You know your “cute little voice” that you make? Maybe someday they’ll have you come to their studio and record you singing a silly song and assign you to be a vegetable.
Hunter: I can do lots of voices.
Mom: Oh yeah? What voices can you do?
Hunter: I can do Darth Vader real good.
Mom: Let’s hear it.
Hunter: I can do the breathing. . . (followed by the deep breathing of Darth Vader in his mask.)
Mom: Hey that’s pretty good. Can you do his talking voice?
Hunter: Yeah. . . I gotta puff myself up to do this. (Then in a real deep voice with a slight British accent) You don’t know the power of the Dark Side.
Mom: Wow. . . that’s real good. Maybe someday you’ll get to record for Star Wars.
Hunter(with a very big smile, raised eyebrows and an excited expression): Yeah, and then, at the end of the movie, when the credits start going up, it’ll say “Hunter Henrichsen” and everyone will see it!

Too bad more of us don’t dream big like Hunter. Here’s hoping all of his little dreams (and his big ones) come true for him someday.

Just discovered this picture Mark took on Saturday of Hunter’s T-ball team. Mark’s even a great photographer. Our’s is “the ham” on the very end on the left.

About two months ago, upon learning that Hailey had colored on the wall AGAIN I told Nate and Devanie rather proudly that none of my kids had EVER colored on the wall. Within two days Denver had colored our entire toy room bench with blue marker, our hardwood floors with marker and our living room wall with pink crayon. I had a great big bite of Humble Pie and then journeyed out to Walmart to find the infamous Mr. Clean Magic Eraser I had heard about on the news. It sat in my cleaning closet for a few weeks until I finally decided to give it a try. Amazingly, the pink crayon disappeared from the wall, along with all the other smudge marks that were there. “Cool,” I thought! “I wonder if it will work on the crayon from the twins two summers ago.” Yup! The entire wall looked as if I had just painted it. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I spent the entire rest of the morning scrubbing walls and giggling to myself in pure delight. My walls didn’t have to look grimy anymore. I didn’t have to wait for Mark to paint. And should Denver get another blue marker in his chubby little fist again, I didn’t have to “freak out.” Within minutes I had fallen in love with another man. Of course, Mark will always come first but Mr. Clean will forever be hidden away in my closet, just in case! If you’ve never tried it, I strongly suggest you do. But be prepared to fall in love (and spend the morning running around your house in a mad frenzy scrubbing at every smudge mark you never thought you’d see disappear.)

Now onto a completely different subject. . . Family Home Evening Games. Last night for FHE we played a Henrichsen favorite called “Pretty Bird Pretty Bird What’s My Color.” Now, if you have kids that love to squirt other people in the face with water they’ll love this game. I think the Henrichsen Family used a thimble of water, but for simplicity’s sake, we use a spray bottle. One person is “it.” They stand in the center of the room with the spray bottle, while everyone else sits around them in a circle (sort of like if you were to play “Fruit Basket.”) The person who is it thinks of one color and then begins asking the people in the circle, “Pretty bird, Pretty bird, what’s my color?” One by one, the family members try and guess what color the “it” person is thinking of. If someone guesses right, they get squirt in the face with the spray bottle and then it’s their turn to be “it.” Even Denver, who didn’t like the idea of being squirt in the face joined in when we promised only his toes would get squirt. Sounds ridiculous and crazy but I guarantee, your kids will love it. How often do they get to squirt you in the face and get away with it? Denver loved it so much by the end that his bedtime prayer went something like this, “. . . and thank ye that we played Pretty Bird Pretty Bird and thank ye that we squirt water on everyone. . . . amen.” You don’t even have to wait until FHE. Try it tonight. They’ll love it. Another favorite at our house is “Don’t Eat Pete.” Noah loves it and begs me to play it with him on a regular basis, so it’s definitely worth mentioning. You’ll have to go back to my June 2004 blog to find the directions but it’s very simple to make and play.

A few other random things: We got Denver potty trained. That was almost as easy as Noah. Maybe I really will only have one bottom to look after, come October. Wouldn’t that be nice?

There’s a great site on Diney’s website for little kids. Denver just recently figured out how to use the mouse and there’s a simple art activity that he loves to do. Select the “Create” crayon on the left and then select “Squisher Studio.” All the kids have to do is drag the ball of clay up to the picture and drop it wherever they want it to go. The clay spreads out and fills up the space to make a 3D looking sort of picture. Even I have fun playing it with it. There are little do-dads they can add to the picture like stars and eyeballs and stuff. Noah prefers the “Clay doodler.” Either way, it’s free, it’s fun, it’s safe and it’s simple. Check it out sometime with your two year old.

And to wrap things up, a little snipet about Noah. This weekend Noah assembled a treasure chest with a few of the things he loves best. It’s the cutest thing I’ve seen in awhile and it’s definitely worth blogging about. Here’s what lies within Noah’s Treasure Chest: a plastic pink and green flower lamp from my fisher price dollhouse, an old blue bandaid, an ID lanyard from Kak-Kak, a button that fell off his bedroom curtains, a green game piece from Grandma Henrichsen’s Sequence game, a penny, a fake penny from Daddy, a British pound and a coin from Hong Kong from Grandma Stout. And I think, if it would fit in the box, he’d put a wad of Gold Silly Putty and a shiny rock. Noah isn’t into trucks like Denver or Transformers like Hunter or GIJoes like Mark. He seems to treasure little tiny things he can hold in his fist–like pencil erasers and coins and rocks. That’s where Noah finds his joy–in the little things (and in the Gamecube, of course.)

Greg Servetas (my OB/GYN) said the odds of us having four boys in a row was like one in twelve and that he thought for sure it would be a girl this time. In the same breath, Dr. Servetas said he thinks my body rejects the female chromosome making it impossible for me to have a girl.

Dad Henrichsen said he thought it was a girl unless Anne Marie stepped out of line and stole ours (since she had two boys and a girl and didn’t follow the Henrichsen rule of having three boys and then a girl.)

Mom Stout said if she had to choose between us having a girl or Nate and Devanie having a boy, she hoped Nate got the boy.

The Henrichsen rule says our next baby should be a girl. The Stout rule says we should have had a girl by now.

And what did the ultrasound say? Looks like I will be the lone woman in our household for a very long time. Come September 30th I will be outnumbered, 5 to 1. And how does the family feel about it? Mark, Noah and Denver took the news just fine. Denver seems to be in a little state of denial, since every time you ask him what we’re having he still says a girl. But that’s to be expected of a 2 year old. The look of disbelief and disappointment on Hunter’s face was painfully hard to swallow, but he seems to have recovered just fine and I’m sure will be thrilled as soon as our kitchen table is filled to capacity. I must admit, I cried, just a wee bit. I was so hopeful it was a girl. But, nevermind it all. . . we’re having a boy and boys don’t have PMS or mood swings or care about designer clothes or plan expensive weddings and with all of that in mind–four boys sounds really good to me.

We have our big ultrasound on Monday, the 23rd. Originally I wanted to wait and find out the sex of our baby upon arrival. Now, with Hunter’s anxiousness (and my own curiosity) I’m feeling like maybe I want to find out early. I have to make up my mind by Monday but I don’t know what to do. What do you think? Should I find out now or wait and be surprised? Is it better to deal with Hunter’s disappointment now or hope for pink later? Oh what to do, what to do? Help me out. . . let’s hear your vote!

My brain is about to explode trying to remember all the cute things my kids have said in the past few weeks. I have a book that I write them all down in, but I’ve been saving them up so I could blog them. And, looking at my blogging record for the past month, you can see why my brain is about to burst. Anyway, here they are:

Denver is probably the biggest bully yet. He can bring Hunter to tears in a matter of seconds and he’s half Hunter’s size. There is nothing that brings Denver greater pleasure than his ability to make his brothers cry and scream like babies. Anyway, the other day, Denver was bullying Hunter and I believe I was in the middle of making dinner. So, I shouted from the kitchen, “Denver! Stop it right now!” (Effective parenting, I know.) And Denver’s response was, “It’s Not A Problem!” Of course, I made the mistake of chuckling and that has become Denver’s favorite response whenever he’s in trouble, whether it be for bullying someone or disobeying his parents. Now. . . it IS a problem! And his other favorite phrase, especially when I’m in the midst of a lecture aimed towards him–”Freak out!” Denver is a “piece of work” I tell ya and whenever I tell him that, he tells me I’m a “piece of bullet train.” Where did that come from? Mark came to the conclusion that because we take him to the train station so he can go to “work” that Denver thinks I’m calling him a piece of daddy’s work. Thus, I get called a piece of the train that takes Daddy to work.

Denver is also infatuated with The Polar Express. We took the boys to see the movie on the IMAX last Thanksgiving and ever since, Denver can’t get enough of the movie, the book or the soundtrack. (Yes, it’s almost June and we have Polar Express music blaring out of our speakers on a regular basis.) Anyway, we’ve stayed at a few hotels in the past few months that have had the movie and we’ve let them watch it a couple of times. Denver keeps asking when we can buy the DVD and I keep explaining that we have to wait until Thanksgiving time when I assume it will be released. Denver, frustrated with my inability to produce the DVD on demand, has taken to praying for it on a daily basis. His prayers go something like this:
“Heavenly Father, thank ye for Polar Express. Thank ye that we can watch it. Thank ye at Thanksgiving time that I can watch it. Please bless it. Thank ye at Thanksgiving time we can buy it. Please bless it. Thank ye that we can buy Polar Express at Wal-mart. Please bless it. Amen.” It’s gotten to the point that anytime anybody says a prayer, Denver has to say one too, and thank Heavenly Father for The Polar Express. All I can say is Warner Brothers, hurry up with that one, please!

Denver and Hunter are also growing impatient with me because we still don’t know what kind of baby we are having. Hunter desperately wants a little sister and I think Denver does too, because that’s what Hunter wants. Noah seems to care less and doesn’t talk about it much. Noah is going through a phase right now (the same phase I swear Hunter just left) and I think he’s angry with me for just about everything at this point, including the fact that we’re having another baby. Anyway, Hunter asked me the other day if we could go shopping. A little shocked, I said sure and asked what for. He said, “For little girl clothes.” I’m not sure how we’re going to deal with his disappointment if we’ve produced another boy. Maybe dress it in pink for a little while and pretend. Hunter told me several months ago, just out of the blue, that a little girl had come and talked to him a long time ago. When I asked him what she said he couldn’t remember but all of the sudden I got these terrible nightmares about having a fourth boy and always wondering if we should have had more, because somewhere out there, a little girl was waiting to come to our family and Hunter had made her some promise that he’d get her here–you know the Saturday’s Warrior theme. And ultimately I’m the one that let them both down.

We were at the park the other day where they have a little see-saw. It’s not a teeter-totter (which by the way is the funnest park toy in the world) but similar. Instead of sitting on it, you stand on it and it’s a lot wider than a teeter-totter. Anyway, there were six little boys on one end (three of them were mine) and I was the fat, pregnant lady on the other end, bouncing them up and down. After awhile a dad came over and asked if his little girl could get on too. A little flabbergasted (wasn’t I struggling enough), I nodded and he stuck her on, with the other six kids (not on my end). I started pumping them up and down again and somehow managed to wheeze out something about “it sure is getting crowded down there!” Hunter, who was right in the middle of it all, grinning ear-to-ear responded, “The more crowded it is, the more fun it is!” I think Hunter takes that view on everything, including our family. While we were eating dinner Denver complained that he was all alone on his side of the table. I said, “Nevermind that. . . in a few months we’ll have two on each side and no one will be alone and our table will be all filled up.” Hunter then responded by saying each bench could hold three kids and that we should have six kids. When I told him that meant Mommy would shout more and cry more, he didn’t seem to mind, but looked rather excited at the thought of having a very crowded kitchen table at dinnertime. Too bad that Saturday’s Warrior family didn’t have Hunter for their eldest son.

On the same subject, while Denver was saying his bedtime prayers the other night he said, “. . . and thank ye that we are going to have a little sister and thank ye that I didn’t say little brother. . .” Maybe they know something I don’t. . . .

And last but not least, a quote from Hunter, from our trip to Kansas. As you know Mom and Dad sent us for a night to Wolf Lodge–a hotel with a gigantic water park indoors. We spent an entire evening swimming and having a great time. Then, we returned to our hotel room, where the kids were looking forward to watching, you guessed it, The Polar Express. Before they could do that, however, we had to put a new battery in Hunter’s insulin pump. Of course, the new battery was still in the car. Jokingly, Mark (who was in the middle of changing out of his swimsuit and was presently naked) headed for the door, as if he were going to get the batttery in his birthday suit. Hunter, who was paying very close attention, immediately shouted at Daddy, “You’ll never get through the lobby that way.” Playing dumb Daddy asked why and Hunter said, “Because, shirts and shoes are required.” Hunter didn’t seem too concerned about the pants part. . . just the shirt and shoes.

I wish I had more from Noah–unfortunately all I’ve been getting from him lately is a lot of lecturing and a lot of tantrums. His mommy is letting him down and he’s gonna make sure she knows about it. But, he’s still a great snugger and at least I get one of those every once in awhile. I’m sure the sweet Noah will be back as soon as his mommy figures out what she’s doing wrong. Until then, Hunter and Denver will have to keep being cute for the three of them. And man, are they cute!

Hunter had his first T-ball game a few weeks ago. I’ll be the first to admit Hunter really has no idea what he’s doing–he can’t catch a ball in his mitt, he can’t hit the ball a whole lot past the pitcher’s mound, and he can barely run the bases without passing out. BUT. . . he sure has fun doing it and he sure is fun to watch. There are some kids who should probably just quit little league and go straight for the big league. They are that good. They’re the ones with the dads on the sidelines chewing tobacco in their baseball caps that look like they spend hours a day in the gym. Then there’s Hunter. But you know what–he’s got a personality bigger than life and I wouldn’t trade that for all the big league baseball players in the world.

At his first game, as he stood on the pitcher’s mound waiting for the opposing team to bat he just kept singing the “Charge” song, over and over again. Do-do-do-do-da-do. . . Charge!!!! Then, after he’d had his turn to bat and was standing on second base, he kept spinning pirouhettes on the base, singing “Swing batter, batter, batter” to his teammate. When they finally hit the ball and everyone started running past Hunter to third base and Home, Hunter was still in La-La land singing his chants and doing his dances on second base. But, he didn’t care and neither did I. Afterall it’s just T-ball and it’s all about having fun which is exactly what he’s doing. And you gotta admit, he sure looks good in his uniform!

P.S. Thanks to Kathy for the 3rd, 4th and 5th pics in the row above. She has a way of capturing my kids in the eye of a camera the way I see them in my own eyes. Am I lucky or what?