Sunday, April 30, 2006
Yesterday, while I took Hunter to his baseball game, I left Mark with orders to get our garden ready to plant. Last year, we planted some tomatoes in a little patch of grass just outside our back door and fully expected them to die. Of course, they were already half dead when we planted them (which doesn't help) but you never can tell with Mother Nature and we decided to give her the benefit of a doubt. Well those little shriveled, dried up tomato plants grew and grew and grew and left us with more tomatoes than we knew what to do with. Anyway, because of our giant tomato success, we decided to dig up the entire patch this year and plant a real garden, complete with watermelon, pumpkins, sunflowers and much, much more.
So Mark, with the help of his sidekick, Denver, pulled out the cultivator he got for Christmas and went to work, turning the soil and digging out large rocks here and there. Before he started Mark knew he was going to have to battle the remains of a tree stump, sitting firmly in the middle of our soon-to-be garden patch. We had discussed the little problem and had decided that a bird bath would sit nicely in the middle of the garden patch and cover up the unsightly stump. Well, that was all nice and good until the roots of the stump started interfering with the cultivator and the digging process. At that point it was no longer just a matter of turning the soil and prepping the garden. Mark declared war on the stump and wasn't going to quit until that darned thing was removed from our happy little garden patch.
Well, several hours of heavy labor and a chainsaw later, we had a tree stump and one completely exhausted but thoroughly satisfied Daddy and sidekick, Denver. Way to show that root who's boss, boys!
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Saturday, April 29, 2006
Baseball season is upon us and that means dragging Hunter a couple of times a week, kicking and screaming, to the baseball field. Of course, once he's there he has a lot of fun. . . well,uh, digging in the dirt. But the important part is, he's outside, away from the computer and he's being active. . . sort of. I can't say that I see Hunter making it into the Big League anytime soon (maybe if we practiced with him a little more often) but the lightbulb does come on every once in awhile, in the middle of a play, and then Hunter surprises us all. The kids are still young and except for the rare kid whose Dad is really into baseball and has instilled the same obsession in their kid, most of them would rather be digging in the dirt than running around trying to catch a ball they're afraid is going to knock their teeth out if they get too close to it. With that said, here's Hunter scoring the first out for his team (Go Hunter!) and then proceeding to "strike out" everytime he's up to bat, thereafter. Just click here and enjoy. Oh, and don't forget your peanuts and Cracker Jacks!
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Monday, April 24, 2006
Since I'm pregnant and pretty much a walking zombie lately, Spring Break was a real bummer for the kids this year. If I'd had any energy at all we might have gone to D.C. or Ohio or something exciting like that. Instead we sat around watching a lot of television, playing a lot of computer games and sitting outside digging in our soon-to-be garden and flooding it with the hose. We managed to hit the beach and a couple of parks, but that was the extent of my abilities this year. Friday night Mark saved the vacation by taking the kids camping at a ward member's house and they tried their hands at fishing. The boys had a blast but unfortunately, we were hit by a monsoon which cut their fishing trip short and flooded our basement for the rest of the weekend. Grandma and Grandpa Stout arrived in town Saturday and joined us for some of Mark's White Bean and Ham Bone soup and Cheescake Factory Cheescake (which we ordered for Kak's going away present) and the boys were thrilled with the visitors. And I was thrilled with Melanie and Jorge, who stayed and played Clue with me and Mark. Then Sunday we did the usual church thing, wrapping the day up at Nate and Devanie's house for some of Mark's fabulous Chicken A La King (the chicken provided by Cliff who generously brought us Boston Market during the week and spared me from the pain of making lunch one day.) I suppose, all in all, it wasn't a complete loss. We had some exciting news, had friends and family come play, enjoyed lots of sunshine and fresh air and enjoyed several hours of games and fun. I suppose I'm just being hard on myself for not doing more--reading more books, visiting more museums, traveling more places, taking more advantage of our freedom. But why do more when you can do less, right? That's my motto anyway, and for now, it's working. . . sort of.
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Tuesday, April 18, 2006
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Monday, April 17, 2006
Waking up was really hard this morning. I tried really hard to stay asleep but the mountain of work with my name written all over it and my wheezing infant and his clogged rice formula bottle kept me from my denial attempts. So, I abandoned my sleep and proceeded to beg Mark to please stay home from work, one more day. We had such a fabulous weekend. Hunter had his first baseball practice and Mark got home early enough to go with us and we even got to eat out afterwards. Mark had Friday off so he went with us to playgroup and we had our pictures done at the mall. They turned out not so bad and it was nice to eat lunch together and finally get an up-to-date family photo. Saturday we had a spectacular Easter Party--a bunch of friends and family came over and dyed eggs with us and Chris and Kathy and Nate threw some candy on the back lawn and the kids had an Easter hunt and we all ate lunch together in the absolutely perfect spring weather. And Sunday we went to church and had a delicious dinner with family and our neighbor Elizabeth and played this really fun game and had pie for dessert. So of course, I wanted the weekend to stretch on just a bit longer and thought maybe, just maybe, if I begged Mark long enough, he would stay home with me. But Mark has work that can't wait and he's a very busy business man nowadays and insisted his meetings be attended to. So I proceeded to pout and complain about the amount of laundry that had consumed my chore list and how I'd never get it done and that I'd probably spend the day at the laundromat in a desperate attempt to get on top of things.
Now sometimes, when I think I'm being whimpy and whiney, I'm really not. I think my subconcious is telling me exactly what I need. But because I'm so darn good at telling myself that I'm just being a whimp, it makes it really easy to ignore my subconcious and not give myself the things that I need. Either that or God knows exactly what I want (or don't want) and then challenges me (or punishes me) accordingly. Either way, my subconsious was right on today and I should have listened to it. But I didn't and I really wish I had.
Instead of going to the laundromat, I decided to be a trooper and do the laundry, one load at a time, here at the homefront. So I fired up a load, fed the kids breakfast, and ran downstairs to start load two. Then our neighbor came over to complain about our chicken some more and said something like, "can you imagine what it would be like if you had more than one?" to which I thought "if you had any idea what we have brewing in our guest bedroom you'd sell your house now." So, I plopped down on the couch to read everyone's blogs because Mark has been chuckling all weekend about certain blogs and my curiosity has been peaked for days and I just had to see what was so funny. So I started to read and all of the sudden I heard a weird bubbling sound and I asked the kids what the noise was and they all said it was the toilet and it had dry ice in it. And the reason they thought that was because we played a joke on them last Halloween and really put some dry ice in the toilet, but I knew that couldn't possibly be true now. Then I heard this terrible gushing, splashing sound of water and immediately put two and two together and knew the basement was currently being flooded by the washing machine draining into a clogged pipe. So I ran downstairs and stopped the washing machine and turned off the water and soaked up what I could, but the damage had been done. And I knew that running any water in our house right now could be really bad and that immediately put a stop to my attempts at cleaning up the disaster left behind by such a spectacular weekend. So I called Mark and looks like there's a massive power outage at work and he really probably should have stayed home one more day afterall. And I just want to sit down and cry because why? Why do things always have to be difficult? I mean I know they have to be sometimes but why so often?
Of course, ever since I found out we're expecting baby number five things have been especially not rose colored. I have my poop-colored glasses on lately and try as I may to see the peachy side of things, it's not working. Everything seems "not fair" and I feel angry about everything. I don't want to be pregnant right now. I just had a baby. It's someone else's turn and I personally know of several people who want to be pregnant right now and aren't. And I think just knowing that makes me especially angry because why me? What am I going to do with another baby? Our house isn't big enough. Our car isn't big enough. And I have no idea how I'm possibly going to give five children enough time and attention, let alone, keep up with all the work that's involved in taking care of a family of seven. And if that isn't bad enough, why does Mark have to start having business trips now, when we'll have five children in the mix and I can't manage four as it is? And if that isn't worse, why does Kathy have to leave me now, when I need her most, to keep me sane when Mark is traveling and to help me through the summer months so my kids don't drown at the beach and bring me Cold Stone on the nights when having five kids seems almost unbearable unless you have a large dish of ice cream and a sister to watch stupid tv shows with? And now our pipes are clogged and our house needs painted and we need a bigger car and a bigger house and family reunion is around the corner and there's just not enough money to go around. And honestly, I know things could be much worse and because I'm complaining they probably will get worse, but sometimes I just have to wish that I could click my heels three times and say "There's no place like home," and poof! I wake up and the house is clean and the chores are done and the kids have had their fill of attention and dinner's in the oven and Mark's home early from work and the bills are all paid and the home repairs are all complete and time would stand still, right there, forever. But life isn't like that and the only solace I find now, when I have a day like today, is when I remind myself that no one ever promised us an easy life but that ultimately it would all be worth it. And I find myself clinging to that one promise like it was the last piece of chocolate on earth, rocking myself back and forth like a crazy lady, repeating it over and over, hoping that it's true--really true.
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Monday, April 10, 2006
Hunter brought his math homework home today. We told him he had permission to do his answers in numbers AND roman numerals if he wanted to. So he did. And written right across the top of the worksheet was "I love your Roman Numerals." Hurray!
He also brought home a packet of "challenge math work" that was "special just for him because he's so smart." He protested when I told him he had to do two extra worksheets a day but once he got started he insisted on doing the entire packet in one sitting and he loved every minute of it. He can't wait to take it back to Mrs. H and show her. And all I can think is, that Mrs. H is definitely a keeper.
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Sunday, April 09, 2006
"I'm tired of cleaning. . . it's so boring!"
Guess it's good I'm the one doing it the other 86,391.4 seconds a day. We wouldn't want to bore the kid to death.
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We had Hunter's Parent Teacher Conference this week. Mrs. H had nothing but good things to say about Hunter and I floated all the way home in a little proud bubble. She said he's more than ready for second grade and that his math and reading skills are outstanding. Her only area of complaint is that Hunter tends to do the bare minimum when it comes to his writing and she really wanted to see him do better. She said the talent is there but he's so anxious to get onto the next thing that he rushes through his storytelling. But, that's Hunter for ya. I think his brain works faster than his hands can write and that hinders him a bit. But he did just write a fabulous "how to book" on playing Starcraft and I suppose if he's interested in something enough, he'll put forth an effort that counts. As for the math homework and his straying from the "norm," Mrs. H agreed Hunter could answer his mathwork however he pleased and that she'd try and come up with some challenges as well. She really is a wonderful teacher and I really just want to hug and kiss her for embracing Hunter whatever his past record may have said and giving him a fair shot at first grade. Kindergarten was such a nightmare--may we never have another year like that for as long as we all shall live. And thank you Mrs. H for all you do for our little Hunter.
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Saturday, April 08, 2006
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Friday, April 07, 2006
 This is Denver at about ten months old. He had (and still does) this terrible cowlick on the back of his head and no matter what we tried, we could never get it to lie flat. So, we took to spiking his hair in a mowhawk and pretty soon it became Denver's trademark. We even started calling him "Spike." I personally love spikey boy hair and tried getting the other boys to let me spike their hair but Hunter and Noah refused to let me, no matter what I bribed them. But Denver. . . he loves his spikes.
So a few weeks ago I discovered Denver in the bathroom with the spray gel and the spike glue, working his own locks into some pretty serious spikes. I praised him for a job well done and figured it wasn't going to do any damage a little shampoo and warm water couldn't fix. And of course, it turned into an almost daily ritual. Denver would ask if he could "do the thing he does on the days that he does them" and I soon figured out that meant he wanted to style his own hair so I'd say "yes."
Well today while I was feeding Caleb a bottle and chatting with Melanie, Denver decided to spike his own hair. But this time, after spiking his hair there were a few spikes that I guess, were out of place. So, instead of smooshing them down the way you can with so much styling product in your hair, he decided to cut them off. After awhile of not hearing from Denver I hollered upstairs for him to come downstairs and this is what he looked like upon his arrival.
Once Melanie and I had composed ourselves, I went upstairs to see what he had done and found these lying on the bathroom floor. I assume they are the offensive spikes that could not be smooshed. So, we had no other choice but to do this to poor Denver's head:
He didn't seem to mind too much, as long as he didn't end up looking like Grandpa Stout, which I assured him would only be temporary and that it would all grow back soon enough. And of course, I'm just glad he's not a girl. . . .
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Thursday, April 06, 2006
We ordered two different types of hens: 3 Buff Orpingtons and 3 Araucanas. The Buff Orpingtons will lay brown eggs and apparently are very large beautiful birds that also make for a good dinner, should we get hungry. The Aruacanas lay blue and green eggs and is also known as the Easter Egg chicken.
We've picked out names for the chicks but haven't assigned them yet, mostly because the Buff Orpingtons (the yellow chicks) all look exactly the same. But, when we do assign the names to the chicks they will be called Queenie, Fanny, Daisy, Ruby, Becky and Max(ine). The chick Hunter is holding is Ruby--we at least know that much.
I've already talked to the kids about some of the chicks dying, since we had so many deaths last year. I also mentioned that if all of them survive we might have to eat one or two of them, to which they strongly protested--you know, cuz chickens are for loving not eating. But, we're crossing our fingers for a successful spring and that at least two or three will survive to keep Lucky company out in the coop and provide us with all the eggs we need to be fat and happy.
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Wednesday, April 05, 2006
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Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Denver has started saying the most entertaining prayers lately. I tried to record one last night for your listening enjoyment, but with no success. Anyway, I've jotted down a few of the things he' grateful for, just for fun:
"Thank ye for the horses and Daddy in Texas." No, Denver doesn't have two daddies, one living in Texas. Mark just went there on a business trip and Denver, who loves the Backyardigans, knows that you ride horses in Texas. So, he asked me the other day if Daddy was riding horses in Texas. I'm sure Mark would rather be riding horses in Texas, but unfortunately, he's working. Still, Denver was convinced that was the only possible thing Daddy could be doing in Texas and I guess he was grateful for it.
"Thank ye for Kak. Thank ye that we love Kak. Thank ye that we love Chris." Chris and Kak had paid us a visit that night and I guess he's glad that he loves them versus hating them.
"Please bless that we can make another rainbow with Hunter. . . and Mommy and Daddy and Noah but except not for Caleb because he is too little and he will just suck on the chalk." Couldn't have said it better myself.
"Thank ye for our curtains and our walls. . . ."
"Thank ye for Chuck E. Cheese."
"Thank ye for our friends. And thank ye for Hunter's friends. And thank ye for Sara. And thank ye that we love Sara." Sara is one of Hunter's friends but for some reason, Hunter's friends always take a liking to Denver and I guess he's fallen for her. Who knew?
"Thank ye for Mommy and Daddy and Hunter and Noah and Caleb and me. . . ." We're thankful for you too, Denver.
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Monday, April 03, 2006
We've had Lucky for almost an entire year now. After the first six months of having her, we really started enjoying having her around. That's when she started laying eggs and we actually started getting something out of her besides a lot of poop. For the most part she's been a fabulous pet. She runs around the yard, never bothering a soul (unless you're a worm) and when she's ready to go back to her coop, she comes right to our kitchen door and pecks on it. When we open the door she squats right down and lets us pick her up. She's really a wonderful girl. Except for the fact that she's a bit confused about her role. See. . . she lays eggs and cock-a-doodle-doos at the crack of dawn. Only Roosters are supposed to cock-a-doodle-doo but Lucky thinks she's a rooster part of the time, like every morning around 5:30 in the morning. And the only problem with that is if you have a chicken in a neighborhood full of sleeping people, someone's going to get mad. Mostly it's me at 5:30 in the morning and if I had a be-be gun, she might already be dead. She's so enthused about her cock-a-doodle-dooing that one night in January, around 12:30 a.m. when her warming lamp turned on, she started crowing her little heart out. And, if she crows at 5:30 and doesn't get a response, she'll continue doing so every half an hour until we finally shout out the window for her to "hush!" Anyway, with the sun coming up earlier, Lucky seems determined to get herself shot, as she cock-a-doodle-doos relentlessly as soon as the sun peeks over the horizon. And I have never been so annoyed by a bird in my life. Maybe if she was suppposed to do it, I'd be a bit more understanding, but she's a hen!
Anyway, for those of you who don't know, I've always been a bird lover. As a child I had and killed several parakeets. Fortunately I learned young that parakeets, like roosters, can be kind of noisy in the morning. So, we always covered their cage with a blanket and that somehow kept them quiet in the mornings. So, last night I covered Lucky's cage with a black Spiderman blanket in the hopes that it would keep her quiet and lo and behold, she didn't make a peep this morning. So unless she was terrified by the fact that Spiderman was sitting on her cage all night, the blanket trick works for chickens too. Hallelujah!
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Sunday, April 02, 2006
So we've been blessed with some absolutely perfect weather the past few days and we've enjoyed every single ray of sunshine that's come our way. We've been to several parks, gone on lots of bike rides, dug several holes in the dirt, and made a fine mess of ourselves. I even managed to get my second sunburn of the season and it's not even sunburn season yet. The trees are starting to bud and several have begun to blossom. The daffodils have bloomed and it will be just a few more weeks and it will be absolutely beautiful here. I love spring. I think it has something to do with being trapped in doors all winter long with four small boys, but I loved it even before the four boys part happened.
Anyway, we went to the park today to fly a kite and while the wind was sort of sporadic and shifty, we had lots of fun. Hunter tried flying his own kite for awhile and did just as good, if not better, than Mark and I were doing. After awhile I laid down on my belly next to Caleb, who was happily digging his fingers into the dirt and grass in front of him. The sun was shining and the breeze was blowing and for a few minutes I was back in Colorado, maybe ten years old, lying on my back at the school playground flying a kite. I have millions of fabulous childhood memories, but as I lay there in the grass watching Mark struggle to get the kite up in the air, I was reminded of this particular memory and for a few minutes it was nice to sit and reminisce about the good old days when "responsibility" and "grown up" and "childbirth" weren't a part of my vocabulary. My dad had returned from a business trip and had brought home with him a giant dragon kite. Because I was ten I didn't know where he'd been or where he got the kite, but I was really excited about that kite. It had a HUGE tail on it--probably the biggest kite I'd ever seen and we couldn't wait to get up to the school playground and send it soaring. And that's exactly what we did. I know Mike was there and Nate, probably Chris, Joe and Melanie. Aaron and Kathy were probably too young, cause I know Mom wasn't there and she'd never let us take them alone. It was a bright sunny day and I remember flying that kite so high it looked like a tiny piece of string against the blue sky and I thought for sure the sun would burn it up. And that was it--we laid there for hours watching that kite soar and it felt like heaven.
I guess it just goes to show that the best memories aren't always the ones that involve a lot of work or preparation or planning. I worry constantly about whether my kids are getting enough attention and stimulation and if I'm doing enough as a parent to ensure their future happiness. But it's a simple memory like me and a kite, that reminds me that the best thing I can give my children is a simple life, an old-fashioned way of life, where they aren't overscheduled and overcommitted, where they have time to play and imagine, where we have time to enjoy meals together and lazy summer days and we don't have to hurry and rush here and there and everywhere. So maybe they haven't earned their scholarships into Harvard yet and maybe they never will, but they sure do appreciate an ant hill when they see one. And I guess ultimately, when they grow up and lay on their stomachs with their babies I'd rather have them remember me on a hot summer day sitting in the kiddie pool eating popsicles with them versus me drilling them on their times-tables and the periodic table and world geography and whether or not they've practiced the piano and loading them into the van for the zillionth time for another class or practice or rehearsal.
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