TheHenrichsens.com

Yesterday Mark and I sort of took off running and we didn’t stop till we fell in bed, completely exhausted. Mark had to get bloodwork done, fill the car with gas and pick up Dunkin Donuts while I cleaned the bathrooms and wrestled six little boys into their clothes. Then we were out the door to the Pinewood Derby and afterwards we loaded two more little boys into our car for a playdate. We carried three sleeping boys into the house and Mark was off to teach piano lessons, the laundromat to wash our comforter (which the twins drooled chocolate pretzels all over), and return some unused Easter goods to the hobby shop while I fed the boys lunch, wrapped a birthday present, sent Denver to a birthday party, cleaned the house, flipped the laundry, and dragged seven little boys to the park to fly kites. When Mark returned with Denver, we returned home and loaded everyone back into the car to return the playdates and practice a musical number with the playdates’ mother. Then it was off to Friendly’s to meet with some good friends of ours for dinner. By then it was seven o’clock. We got the chocolate sundaes washed off of everyone’s faces and threw them all in bed. One hour and a lover’s spat later (can you blame us? We were pooped and could hardly speak coherently let alone communicate effectively) we were down for the count and when I say down for the count, Mark was out cold before he could even turn the TV off. I must say Mark and I work like a fine oiled machine sometimes and it’s days like yesterday that make me think we were definitely made for each other. It’s like we read each other’s minds, know each other’s next move and with six little boys depending on us that can come in really handy.

Anyway, this post is hardly about us and definitely about Hunter because as I mentioned yesterday was the Pinewood Derby and Hunter took part in the races. Here’s his car. . . the blue one with the smokestack and gold accents.

And here are all the cub scouts and their families waiting for the games to begin.

Hunter did really well in the races. It seemed everytime he finished he was third, except when he ran track 2 and that time he finished first. Just about everyone finished first on track 2. I think it was then that Hunter’s wheel started coming off but you should have seen Mark whip out his tool box (an empty Pinewood Derby box) and fix it up in a matter of minutes. The wheel remained in place for the rest of the races. Now that’s what I call an amazing Pit Crew.

Speaking of Mark, here he is. Doesn’t he look handsome. He wrestled the twins while I wrestled Caleb and tried to take pictures. The twins seemed to enjoy the races and clapped after every run.

And last but not least, here’s Hunter receiving his award–third place for the Bear Den! And sixth place overall! All of the boys did an amazing job. And the best part of all was that none of them seemed to care so much if they won or lost, but rather were truly interested in each other’s cars and seeing them run. What a great load of boys. Way to go Hunter! We’re oh-so-proud of you.

Walking home from kindergarten today, in the so-totally-far-from-spring-weather I said, “I’m cold, Denver! Turn the heater on.”

To which Denver said, “I don’t have a heater. All I have are these stupid underpants.”

Yup. . . I’m still smiling, even five hours later.

. . . the best thing usually is to eat chocolate and listen to Avril Lavigne really loud. The kids rarely complain and it’s 99.9% effective at making things feel better or at least distracting you from the crazy.

Today it was Runaway by Avril Lavigne and Cherry Chocolate Cake that took the edge off, except that I fell asleep on the couch before I got a slice of the cake. But the point is, we’re all still alive and that’s what really counts.

Got up on the wrong side of life today, yeah
Crash the car and I’m gonna be really late
My phone doesn’t work cus it’s out of range
Looks like it’s just one of those kind of days

You can’t kick me down I’m already on the ground
No you can’t, but you couldn’t catch me anyhow
Blue skies, but the sun isn’t coming out, no
Today is like I’m under a heavy cloud

And I feel so alive
I can’t help myself
Don’t you realize

I just wanna scream and lose control
Throw my hands up and let it go
Forget about everything and run away, yeah
I just wanna fall and lose myself
Laughing so hard it hurts like hell
Forget about everything and run away, yeah

So-so’s how I’m doing, if you’re wondering
I’m in a fight with the world but I’m winning
Stay there, come closer it’s at your own risk
Yeah you know how it is life can be a bitch

Okay, so Sunday I was going to dedicate a beautiful post to the miracle of Christ’s Resurrection. I have this song that I absolutely love that I really want to share that’s about Christ. And. . . I’ve been meaning to share my testimony since Christmas and then I was going to do it yesterday but two holidays in one week. Well. . . it’s clearly just way too much for me to handle and I didn’t get around to it. I’ll do it. I promise I will. But today, instead, I give you Easter, Henrichsen-style.

Saturday morning, mostly for the sake of tradition, I insisted the boys dye Easter eggs. I loved dying easter eggs when I was little and I really never expected the screaming tantrum I received from Noah when I informed him that unless he dyed eggs he would in no way have game time for the rest of the day. Yes, we had a full on meltdown while Daddy was trying his best to rehearse with Brother Hoggan their musical number for Sunday. Which of course meant, it was me against the six boys and nine cups of vinegar and dye.

Five minutes later, the three big boys were done and on their way. So much for quality family time spent doing things that will bond us for the eternities. My house smelled like sulfur and I had a mess that would only take me another hour or so to clean up and I’d hardly had a chance to say “hello” before they ran off, talking about Zelda this and Build-A-Bearville that. I invited the twins to give dying eggs a whirl once Brother H. had left and Daddy was off for piano lessons. Disaster. That’s the only word that can possibly describe what it’s like dying Easter eggs with twins.

My friend Sam (who is also the mother of multiples) lets her kids dye their eggs in the shower. If only I had a shower big enough. But nope. We don’t. I did try to limit the mess by giving them each just one bowl of color and Justus did pretty well. It was Jericho that was having way too much fun playing basketball with his egg and the cup of dye, spilling bowl after bowl of stinky, smelly, stainy Easter egg dye. Once Justus caught on and discovered the huge crack he’d made in his egg, he started sticking his finger in the middle of his egg till his finger came through the other side. But when all was said and done, they both were very proud of themselves.

We finished just in time for the Thompson’s to show up for piano lessons. My hands were stained blue from mopping up Jericho’s messes and not too long after I opened the door I noticed my entire right boob was covered in blue dye as well. Lovely. Somehow we managed to get the mess cleaned up and everyone dressed and down for naps. Mark finished lessons and we had minutes to throw together Sonnet’s Monterey Jack Salsa before we had to run out the door and up to the Feuz’s for their annual Easter Egg Hunt. The kids had a blast running around with all of the kids from church, loading up their baskets with candy. Caleb caught on pretty quick but once he discovered there was candy inside the eggs, he just wanted to sit somewhere and eat. The twins never really seemed to get the point, even when we showed them there was candy inside the eggs. Justus would pick the eggs up and put them in the basket. And then Jericho would take the eggs out and stick them back in the bushes. It was quite hilarious. Once we got inside and started busting open the eggs, they were all about the candy and probably ate their weight’s worth in chocolate.

After the egg hunt we hit Big Y for the Easter dinner fixin’s and then Mark ran out to do some Easter Bunny shopping while I wrassled kids, made dinner and started salads for the next day. By the time Mark got home and the kids were in bed I was just plain exhausted. Didn’t we just do a holiday? Ten minutes to midnight Mark was still running around the grocery store looking for Peeps for the kids. Ugh!

Sunday morning we watched the Easter Story and Mark prepared his lesson for Elder’s Quorum while I made a “Bunny Foo Foo” cake and wrassled the kids into their Easter clothes. We were ten minutes late to church as usual, which I absolutely hate because I feel like a parade marching into the chapel and up to the front row, with everyone staring, but the kids were relatively good and the meeting uneventful. I had the twins solo for second and third hour which is never any good because what do you do with babies at church who just want to run around? I guess it was good we watched that Easter cartoon before church because that was the extent of my spiritual uplift for the day.

After church we ran home and put together the final fixins for dinner and the Gribble’s showed up to eat with us. I have to tell you, as exhausted as I was by the end of this week, there was nothing nicer than getting out my Grandma Stout’s china and fixing up a nice dinner table with all the yummy things I love to eat and sitting down with my babies and a few of the people I love and eating dinner. I absolutely adore the Gribble’s and we had such a nice time eating and chatting and laughing. The rest of the holiday seemed so hectic and frazzled, but it sure ended on a nice note. We left the dishes piled by the kitchen sink and I literally fell into bed and right to sleep, relieved to have the holidays over with. I’m so glad that Easter and St. Patty’s don’t always fall this close together. The past week was a complete whirlwind for us and I almost feel dizzy.

Now all that’s left to do is turn these colorful creations into deviled eggs and spinach salad and egg-salad sandwiches cause you know, everything in life comes down to one thing–food and eating it! Speaking of which, I’m hungry. Maybe I’ll go dig some of those Easter leftovers out of the fridge and make me a plate. Happy Easter–a day late and a dollar short as usual!

I was supposed to be reading that book to Caleb. I told him to go downstairs and wait for me while I rocked the twins to sleep. I told him I’d be right there. And I was pretty quick. It only took me about ten minutes to rock both babies to sleep. But I suppose I was ten minutes too long cause this is what I found when I returned downstairs with a pile of books to read with Caleb. We read the book later this afternoon, I promise. But I sure felt bad all day, wishing I’d just been ten minutes faster. There’s nothing better than snuggling up with that little thumbsucker and reading a few good books. That said, there’s nothing better than holding the twins snuggled up on my shoulder and watching their little eyes get droopy as I rock them to sleep. I suppose that’s the way life goes. For everything you miss out on, there’s something else you are totally blessed to be a part of. And even when you miss out on something good, a second chance almost always finds its way back around to you and you really don’t miss out on all that much afterall. We just have to be patient while we’re waiting for it. And of course, sometimes it helps to take a nap while you’re waiting.

The other day Caleb was playing with the boys’ radio and stopped fiddling with the tuner long enough to listen to Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl. As soon as the song ended, Caleb asked me to play it again. I wondered why he was sitting there so still. Turns out he was listening very carefully to and falling very deeply in love with Billy Joel. Since then Caleb has only made a bazillion requests for Bowling Joe’s (yes, that’s how he says Billy Joel) “Uptown Guirrel” and has even started memorizing We Didn’t Start the Fire. Who knew such a little kid could have such great taste in music?

This morning when we woke up we found that the Leprechauns had definitely visited our home. The boys underwear was hung where our pictures used to be, their shoes were hung where their coats normally go, their clothes were all mixed up in the closets and our milk was dyed green and in the juice pitcher and the juice was in the milk jug. But they left a nice note thanking us for all the fun and of course they left little pots filled to the brim with chocolate coins for everyone. Happy St. Patty’s day! Now hurry quick! Down with the green and up with the pastels. Easter is only six days away. Kind of seems strange to have an Easter FHE on St. Patrick’s day but hey! I mean, you gotta do what you gotta do!

We made this tonight. It’s Noah’s birthday treat to take to school. He was supposed to take treats to school Friday but stayed home sick instead. Just thought it was fitting for St. Patrick’s day and of course, Noah loves rainbows and hidden treasures. Hope the kids like eating it as much as I liked making it.

For the past week or so you have been asking me on a very frequent basis if I can believe that you are turning seven. Apparently, when you turn seven you become a “big boy” and leave all that “little boy” stuff behind you. You’ve been just a wee bit excited about this particular birthday. You opened your presents first thing this morning. You got a bunch of spy gear and the Zelda Phantom Hourglass cheat book and a coupon good for one DSlite, GameBoy Advance or Gamecube game of your choice. A little later you and I went to see Horton Hears a Who with Finn, your friend from school. Afterwards we picked up your Zelda birthday cake and then we hit Gamestop where you were lucky enough to find all three of the Nintendo games you were hoping to find. Slowly but surely your little grin spread wider and wider across your face until you were practically beaming. I think you had a successful birthday.

A year ago I probably would have said you were my most difficult child. But I don’t think that so much anymore. You still have a hard time walking away from your Nintendo games but other than that, you’re really quite a pleasure to have around. Like I said, you love, love, LOVE your game time and have found quite a few people who share your passion for Zelda. At school you’ve started drawing Zelda maps for your friend Finn and his big brother, Tate, a fifth grader. His mother stopped me the other day to inform me that Tate gets especially excited when Finn brings a map you’ve made home from school and that they’ve solved many Zelda levels thanks to your map-making and game-playing abilities. Your piano teacher seems especially smitten with you and even though he’s seventeen and especially busy, he often sacrifices his free time to come and play Zelda with you. And then there’s your church buddy, Rhodric. He’s several years older than you but you’d never guess by the way you two huddle together on the couch and coach each other through level after level of Zelda challenges. As much as I hate your obsession with gaming, you’ve developed quite a self-esteem from your skills and it’s really great to watch you shine.

You have become quite a worry wart, but not so much about spiders and fires anymore. There’s only one thing that seems to rattle your chains and that’s Hunter’s seizures. He had a bad one just over a year ago which required that you muster some serious courage and brave the dark hallways on his behalf. You are old enough to understand the seriousness of Hunter’s condition and as the next oldest, I think you feel a responsibility to look out for him. But you hate it nonetheless and anytime Hunter’s sugar plunges so does your heart. You still don’t sleep and I’m certain it’s because you lay there in the dark imagining the worst (another seizure) until you can no longer stand it and you end up in a sleeping bag on the cold floor in our bedroom. And there you sleep like a log until we have to wake you up for school. I’m sorry it worries you so much, I’m certain you got the worry-wart thing from me, but I know should Hunter ever need you, you’ll be there, ready to do anything to save his life.

If there’s one thing you really hate, I’d have to guess it’s school. You came home from school a few weeks ago and the very first thing out of your mouth was, “Mrs. H is out of control! She marked two of my answers wrong on my homework! You’ve got to do something about her!” Nothing puts you over the edge faster than homework and piano practice but when you finally settle down and do it, you do a most fantastic job. Your handwriting is gorgeous and you seem to sail through anything you put your mind (and your hand) to. You’ve become quite the piano player and are always just a few songs behind Hunter, always giving him a run for his money. You are as silly as ever and often complain that we “never believe you”–something else I think you inherited from me. No one ever believed me either, Noah. But you definitely keep our bellies aching with laughter and your eyes are always twinkling with some kind of mischief or joke, just waiting to be unleashed.

A few days ago we were talking about your birthday and how I’d hoped you would be born on St. Patrick’s day because that’s a lucky day. But instead you were born on the Ides of March, which is supposed to be a very unlucky day. You seemed quite disappointed in me for going into labor two days early, landing your birthday on the unlucky day. But as it turns out Noah, the Ides of March isn’t as unlucky as I thought because we got you on that day and that’s one of the luckiest things that’s ever happened to me. And so now I don’t feel like “beware, beware the Ides of March” but more like “celebrate, celebrate the Ides of March” because we’re all so glad we got lucky enough to have you! Happy Birthday Noah!

P.S. The next two pictures have nothing to do with Noah except that it involves his birthday cake. Just thought you’d like to see what great progress the twins are making in the self-feeding department. My kitchen on the other hand is suffering greatly. What a mess!

Last weekend I went out to Utah minus six kids and a husband and spent the weekend with Kathy. It was really great except for the fact that I was miserable sick the entire time and mostly just wanted to curl up in bed and die. Upon my return I was greeted by two pretty sick babies and from there it’s gone from bad to worse. Jericho has double ear infections, Noah has double ear infections, Hunter has strep throat, Denver has pink eye and poor Caleb has the nastiest cough this side of the Mississippi. Now if that ain’t a “welcome home Mommy,” I don’t know what is. Let’s just hope this is the last big “whoop-de-doo” till next cold season and would spring please get here already!