Thursday, August 31, 2006
 
Noah's never been a morning person. He stays up late, has a hard time sleeping when he does fall asleep, and has an even harder time waking up in the morning. Usually when I have to wake him up for something, like to drop Mark off at the train, Noah usually shouts at us about how we always wake him up too early and we never let him sleep in. It's pretty ugly to say the least. So you can imagine my apprehension this morning as I approached his bed to wake him up for school. What kind of reprimand was I about to receive? Well, Noah flung his covers off him immediately, sat right up and trying as hard as he could to pout and smiling all at the same time (the way only Noah can), he sprung out of bed. His clothes were on in ten seconds flat and he was ready to go. Yesterday, a friend accused me of keeping my kids out of preschool just so they'll be excited to start Kindergarten. And, while that's never been my intention, I'm glad it works. I couldn't get Noah ready fast enough.
Hunter, on the other hand, wasn't so excited about going back to school. It's not that he didn't want to go. It's just that he'd rather stay home and play computer games and listen to Harry Potter cassettes all day. We added up how many pages of Harry Potter he's listened to this summer and it was just over 2700 pages. He's still got volume six to go and I know he'd rather be listening to that than sitting at a desk doing math and reading easy readers. But, he's definitely missed his friends and yesterday at the "meet and greet" he discovered that his best friend, Christian, will be sitting directly across from him at his table. I think that made Hunter's day. So this morning he chose to wear his "Homework makes me crabby" shirt and seemed excited, if not for himself then definitely for Noah. He didn't drag his feet today and I hope it remains that way for the rest of the year. Here's to another school year--let's hope it's a good one.
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Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Here are the past two days' worth of eggs. Lucky is currently molting, thanks to the swiftly changing temperatures and shorter days so we won't be seeing any white eggs for a few weeks. But that's okay. We're getting at least three eggs a day and once she starts laying again it will only take us three days to make a dozen eggs. And if all five of them lay in a day we'll make a dozen every two and a half days. Anybody want a fresh dozen?
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Sunday, August 27, 2006
 The other day we were at a friend's house for an End of Summer Bash. You and several other kids were running around, playing together and having fun in the sun and the water. I was sitting on the lawn close by wrestling your very fussy baby brother and chatting with a friend. We were chuckling at the silly things each of you kids were doing as you ran down the slip-n-slide, doing all sorts of stunts. After your turn, as you came running back, my friend laughed and said, "Look at that little Tonka truck!" As I watched you run down the sidewalk with your sun-tanned skin and your solid little body, grinning from ear to ear, I thought that was the perfect description of you. You are such a little Tonka truck.
 You have also been given the nickname, Snack, by your Uncle Michael. Part of the reason you received that nickname is due to the fact that you are so much fun to chase and tickle and pretend to eat--it was just natural. But I think another part of you receiving that nickname is because you are so sweet and wonderful. The other day I was scrubbing our stovetop. You meandered in and immediately started pushing a chair over so you could help. I stopped you because I was afraid you'd get chemicals on your hands and I needed the space to manuever. Disappointed that you couldn't help you stopped me mid-kitchen and said, "But if you need help. . . you could just ask me." I stared at you in disbelief. This coming from a four year old? Surely you should be off playing with your toys--not offering to help your mother do her chores! I immediately asked your Daddy if he could ever remember being four and begging his mommy to help do the housework and he couldn't remember such a time. No--in that way you are very unique and very dear to my heart. When I sweep the floor, you always come running into the kitchen, grab the dustpan and sweep up the dirt pile. When Caleb is crying you are the first to run in and cheer him up. You are my little sidekick. You help me cook, you help me clean, you help me gather the chickens eggs. You do dishes, scrub toilets, wash laundry, clean windows and doors--just about anything you're given the chance. Sometimes I worry that I ask too much of you. And yet, there's something about having you by my side doing whatever miserable chore that needs doing, that makes it seem not so miserable but rather fun and enjoyable. I know all of my children love me, but there's something about you that says it better than the rest. Besides all of the help you offer me, I think it must be the hugs and kisses you are constantly giving me. And there's not a day that goes by without you saying "I love you" at least a dozen times. You make me feel like the luckiest Mommy on earth and while it makes no sense to me, why a four-year old would love a mommy like me so much, I'm glad that you do and I hope you never stop.
 For a few months now, you've been asking for three very specific things for your birthday--an easy bake oven, a chainsaw and a bath bomb of your very own. I think this says a lot about who you are right now. You remind me so much of your Dad, just in a tinier package. You love to cook and you love to eat--there's no doubt about that. An easy bake oven is right up your alley. We brought it home last night and within minutes you had whipped up a batch of butterscotch brownies. And you were so excited to share them with everyone. This morning when I came downstairs you were sitting at the kitchen table once again, watching the timer on your easy bake oven. A few minutes later, you pushed a tiny pan of Breakfast Cake out of your oven, proud as could be. And in two seconds flat it was gone.
 You also love to help your Daddy in anyway possible. A few months ago you assisted your Dad in removing a giant tree stump out of our garden patch. That was the first time you saw a chainsaw up close and personal and you immediately fell in love with it. That's when you decided you had to have one of your own. Just like your Dad, you are going to be a handy man--able to fix just about anything. You help your Dad mow the lawn, hang the coat hooks, drill, saw, hammer--anything. There's really nothing you won't try and not very many things that you haven't succeeded at.
 I think the bath bomb reminds me of how little you still are. In so many ways you seem so grown up. But you are only four small years. You love having baths and playing in any body of water. You love trucks and dirt and mud. You enjoy watching Max and Ruby, Dora the Explorer and Diego, Miffy and Maisy, the Backyardigans, Little Einsteins, Little Bear and Franklin on TV. You love your brothers and are always tickled pink when one or two of them will play with you. You get frustrated when you can't draw something just right, to the point that you aren't allowed to color in Sacrament meeting anymore. But on the good days, when you don't get so frustrated you are really good drawing excavators and at tracing your hand and turning it into a turkey.
 You play well with everyone and are really good at taking turns and sharing. Even today, you asked if you could play computer. I got you all situated and left you to play while I loaded the dishwasher. Within five minutes both of your big brothers were on either side of you taking turns stealing the computer away from you. But did you cry and whine? No. You just sat patiently, waiting for them to give the computer back. I think you would still be sitting there, quietly waiting for your turn, if I hadn't insisted they leave you alone. You really enjoy having books read to you and listening to music that Kak sends us. It never ceases to amaze me at how quickly you pick up the lyrics and how well you remember them.
 Last week you and I played Mousetrap together. So many things on my "to do" list were nagging me, sitting down to play that game was almost painful. But you were so excited to play and so fun to play with, it wasn't long before my "to do" list had evaporated and I found myself wanting to play the game again and again with you. There are some days when you struggle without a nap. On those rare occasions, one of your favorite things to do is cuddle up with me in bed and watch the Food Network. You can identify Rachel Ray just about anywhere. I love to lay with you and listen to you comment about the "yucky" stuff they are making or wondering when we can make a particular goodie at our house. And slowly your eyes start to droop and your breathing gets heavier and your body is warm and sticky snuggled up next to mine and I know I'm in heaven--just to be there, snuggled up next to you. I hope the next four years are as wonderful for you as the past four have been for me. I love you and Happy Birthday!
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Friday, August 25, 2006
So I had a Doctor's appointment today and he scheduled my c-section for October 19th. Deep down inside I knew that couldn't possibly be my 38-week mark, but I really wanted it to be and so I pretended all the way home that he was right and I was wrong and I really would be delivered come mid-October. But that nagging feeling wouldn't leave me alone and when I mentioned it to Mark he confirmed my suspicions--the doctor had to be wrong. Even then I tried to convince myself that one week wasn't going to make that much of a difference and that I shouldn't worry about it. But the words of my mom's friend Birgid kept running through my head--"Tell Shana to get those babies as big as she can before they are born." And I'm smart enough to know that yes, even a week would make a huge difference for the babies. So. . . I finally gave in and called the doctor and yes, he was wrong and I was right. So he rescheduled my c-section for October 25th and dashed my high hopes into a million tiny pieces. I know it's only six days longer but yes, even six days makes a huge difference when you are pregnant, no matter how many babies you are carrying.
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Thursday, August 24, 2006
So this summer we signed up for the local library's summer reading program. Mostly the boys wanted to do it because it meant they got to spin a giant, noisy wheel over and over again--something the grouchy old librarians have told them not to do for the past several years. I decided to do it because the school said Hunter was supposed to read some books this summer and since they failed to send home any sort of guidance as to what they wanted him to read, I figured the librarians would have that all figured out for me. Plus, I liked the thought of driving those cranky old librarians crazy with my kids spinning that wheel over and over again.
For me, it was a lot of work. I mean, try and find a biography that a three year old will be interested in or a book of poetry that your seven year old computer game addicted son will enjoy reading to you. Not an easy task. And then multiply that by three (since I had to do it with each of the boys) and add a fussy baby who really doesn't want to be there and who is really speedy at crawling off and pulling every book off the shelf before you find where he's crawled off to. It was probably more work than it was worth. At least for me.
But for the boys, it was a whole different story. Not only did they get to spin the noisy wheel but after reading five books, they received a giant poster, a free kids meal at Subway Sandwiches and their picture in the library scrapbook. After twelve books, they each got to pick a brand new library book and be the very first to check it out. And not only that, they got their names put in the book so that everyone would know that they read 12 books in the summer reading program. We didn't quite finish the entire program which required reading 15 books and meant they'd receive their very own paperback book to take home for keeps, but we got close and I think when all was said and done, they were very proud of themselves for doing as much as they did.
We also decided that we would finish the Book of Mormon this summer. We started reading it last September with the Prophet's challenge and after Christmas, sort of lost momentum. We read sporadically through the spring and about a month into summer I decided enough was enough, it was time to finish. So we did. . . last night. As a reward, the boys each received their own pocket-sized version of the Book of Mormon with their names embossed on the front (thanks, Grandma Stout) and a candy treat. Again they sure were proud of themselves. And they should be. I don't think I read the entire Book of Mormon the entire way through until I was in college and even then it was only what I needed to do to pass the Religion classes. Our new goal is to read the book again, but this time to finish in time for the Hill Cumorah Pageant next summer. Hunter has already started reading the book by himself and is doing a great job--6 chapters in one day. (He's also listened to the first four Harry Potter books this summer and can't wait to get his hands on volume five.)
**After reading the Book of Mormon last night I was talking to the boys about how Moroni will meet us after we die and ask us if we read the Book of Mormon and if we believed it and followed its teachings. All of the sudden Noah and Denver got really excited. Denver enthusiastically chimed in, "Oh and the dead baby bird will be there."
"Yeah, and Mr. Rodgers!" added Noah.
"Yeah. . . ." was about all I could say. Our discussion was obviously over their heads and there was no point going backwards. At least they have a hope of life after death and that they'll see their loved ones again someday. For now, that's enough.
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Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Caleb is currently sick with the Coxsackie Virus. I hate the Coxsackie Virus. Denver had it when he was pretty little and it was not fun. It hasn't been fun with Caleb either. He's been up for two nights straight, screaming, all night long. For those of you who don't know about Coxsackie Virus, it causes children 5 years old and younger to break out in sores all over their hands, feet and mouth. The type of virus you get determines how bad you get it and where you get the sores. Denver had it the worst--hands, feet and mouth. Caleb just got them in his mouth, but obviously, that's bad enough. Because it's a virus, there is no antibiotic for it. All you can do is pump the kid full of tylenol and ibuprofen and pray for it to be over really soon. Anyway, thanks to this virus, Caleb has been permanently attatched to my hip (or Mark's) for the past several days. And that's not really a bad thing unless you are seven months pregnant with twins and have a "things to get done before the twins are born" list as long as mine. Then it starts to be a problem.
First of all, I have no waist and I'm not sure you could call what I do have even hips. I'm just one giant blob of a person at this point and carrying a baby is slightly difficult as a result. Add to that the fact that my back is killing me and toting a 21-pound dead weight everywhere I go only makes matters worse. Normally I can get away with setting Caleb down here and there but because he's feeling sick, he's gotten just a bit clingy. So. . . I've had to get really creative at washing dishes, folding laundry and making dinner with only one hand. Or worse, I just haven't done any of the above things and our house is definitely suffering as a result. And that means, so is my "to do" list.
And that's the other problem. It's not just an ordinary "to do" list. It's an enormous "to do" list. And the fact that I'm not getting to it is making me crazy. I think I'm having a panic attack. . . about the twins. . . and all the things that I think need to be done before they are born or else our whole world is going to fall apart. Except I know it's not going to fall apart, it just feels like it. So what if I don't have the scrapbooks up to date? I mean, who cares if the kids' pictures are out of order and mixed up and I can't tell who's who anymore? Life will go on, the kids will get over it--not a big deal. And so what if I don't have 100 casseroles stocked up in my freezer and a year's supply of diapers and formula stashed away? I can order groceries online and Mark likes to go to Walmart, especially alone. We'll survive. The twins don't need their own special handmade birth announcements and they won't even notice their crazy quilts aren't quite finished, at least not till their two or three. The kitchen will still function even if I don't get around to re-organizing everything. But somehow, even though I know we'll be okay, I just can't relax. I guess it's my "all or nothing" attitude, my black or white personality. Either everything is going to be perfect or I'm just not going to bother. I did it last year. I'm going to do it this year and who cares that I have an extra baby on my hip this time around? I'm going to do it. And that is what's causing my insanity. The nesting bug and this gigantic expectation I have of myself to be and have everything perfect. And probably the silliest thing of all is that somewhere deep down inside I know that no matter how prepared I am for these babies, all hell is going to break loose anyway and all my work will have been for naught. And if that's not insane, I don't know what is.
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Tuesday, August 22, 2006
There's something wrong about the fact that the birth of two teensy weensy babies is forcing us to buy something so enormous.
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Sunday, August 20, 2006
Aunt Sonnet came to visit us this weekend. I don't know how we got so lucky but I'm glad we did and so are the boys. We've had all sorts of fun. She brought a coupon for a free New Release Rental from Blockbuster and let the boys pick out a movie to watch. We got Eight Below and treats from CVS and the boys snuggled up with their special ble-ble's and Sonnet for the entire show. All three of the big boys were shocked and thrilled that Sonnet had her own special ble-ble and enjoyed the fact that she was even willing to share it with them.
Aunt Sonnet went for a walk with us to the "duck park." It's not a very long walk, only about 1/2 a mile, but when you're little I suppose that seems like a very long walk. So after we played at the park for awhile, we started the long journey home. All three of the big boys started complaining about the length of the walk and how hot and tired they were. Well, Aunt Sonnet was kind enough to offer each of the boys a piggy-back ride so their feet could rest a bit and that was no easy job, considering Hunter weighs almost as much as Sonnet and the walk home is entirely up hill. But she did it anyway and saved not only their feet from falling off, but their Mommy from screaming her head off.
Sonnet also brought along Razor, her dog. Denver fell in love with Razor almost instantly and has enjoyed every waking moment he's had with both Sonnet and her dog. Every time Sonnet has to take the dog out, Denver wants to go with. He especially loved holding Razor's leash and taking her for a walk to the park. He loves watching Razor chase her tail and chase the light from a flashlight. Denver will definitely miss Sonnet and Razor when they leave.
Sonnet stayed up late last night washing my dishes. She went with me to get a pedicure and helped me do my grocery shopping. She helped me stay awake late into the night so I could greet Mark when he returned home from his business trip. She made her Monterrey Jack Salsa for the ward Linger-Longer and it was the hit of the party, so much so, people were offerring to pay her for the recipe. She washed my dishes again tonight, built Denver one of the coolest train track layouts he's ever laid eyes on, snuggled Noah, and created Happy Fun Land with Hunter. Aunt Sonnet will be sorely missed tomorrow when she heads back to North Carolina and the boys are already trying to figure out how we're going to get together with her again. Thanks for coming Aunt Sonnet--we hope we get lucky like this again real soon.
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Saturday, August 19, 2006
I don't know if I'm lacking in Vitamin A or if it's cinnamon I'm craving. Perhaps it's Fall that I'm after. Whatever it is--I've been craving pumpkin pie and spiced cider, both of which I made tonight and enjoyed thoroughly. Anybody else want some?
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Thursday, August 17, 2006
Today we had a visit from our good friends,the Restuccias. They moved away a few years ago but they're the kind of friends that stay your friends no matter how long you've been apart or how far apart you live. Their kids are practically the exact same age as our kids, only they have two girls and two boys and we've only got boys. Anyway, they came to visit while they were in town and it was like they'd never been gone at all. We had all sorts of fun playing in the water and eating Pringles and listening to the kids whine about this and that all afternoon. But most fun was sitting around talking to Kim and catching up on the craziness we deal with on a daily basis and laughing about it all. I miss my friend Kim and wish she were closer. But I'm glad she lives close enough to visit every once in awhile and I'm already looking forward to the next visit.
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Wednesday, August 16, 2006
I had a really great birthday. I don't think I've been so spoiled in quite sometime. First and probably the best surprise of all was the FedEx package I received early in the morning. It was from Mark (who was in Texas on business) and it was the cutest lil' watch I've ever seen. It has a flower in the center and as the petals fall off it says, "Loves me, Loves me not." I love the watch but I love the fact that Mark was thinking of me even while he was away and thought to send me something special. It made me feel loved.
Then Melanie came and brought me Boston Market for lunch and a yummy ice cream cake and a card with $$$$ and she made me beans and rice for dinner. Totally spoiled, I know. Then Nathan also delivered a card complete with a gift card to Target which I can hardly wait to go shopping with. All of my siblings (except for one, who was busy helping his wife deliver their baby #4) called me and Kathy sent me a package all the way from Utah with some of the fuzziest socks I've ever felt and Stephen's Hot Chocolate, some of the best hot chocolate I know of. Oh and a movie too. I got $$$$ from both Mom's and Dad's and a promise of a Girl's Night Out on Chris's tab sometime next week when Mark returns.
And then, the Young Women came and delivered an entire freezer full of frozen casseroles for when the babies are born, as well as about 10 packages of diapers! I got flowers and chocolate and a mini birthday cake too. It was fabulous! I also managed to get the entire house clean and Caleb to his well-child visit all in a day, thanks to Megan and her wonderful babysitting capabilities. Anyway, I felt totally and completely spoiled. Thanks to everyone who made it such a great day and for all the gifts and loving you sent my way. Turning 31 never felt so good.
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Sunday, August 13, 2006
 
Baby A is on your left and Baby B is on your right. Both babies are doing well and "look beautiful" according to the Ultrasound Tech. They weigh 2.1 and 2 pounds, which according to the Ultrasound Doctor is "a little smaller than average." Of course when they're inside of you, nothing feels smaller than average but rather gigantic. Obviously, that Doctor is just stupid.
 
Now you are looking at Baby B's face (left) like he's laying on the floor looking up at you and you are standing over him/her. And both babies (right) with their heads together, again. The Ultrasound Tech seemed surprised that they were head-to-head again, since last time they had their heads together, but I guess that just means they like each other.
  This is Denver's illustration of what I presently look like. While I feel like I look just like that, I look more like this:
I've gained a whopping twenty-seven pounds and measure 43 inches around. My "fundus" measures at 32 centimeters. During a normal pregnancy, at 27 weeks I'd be 27 centimeters, but whoever said this is a normal pregnancy? Even the Doctor was impressed. The Doctor plans on scheduling my c-section the next time I'm in (two weeks from now) and I imagine it will be sometime during the week before Halloween. So technically I have 11 weeks to go, or 77 days. That whole thought makes me want to barf and shout for joy all in the same breath. I'm so totally not ready for them to be out but can't wait to be done with being pregnant. Mark and I have been married for 116 months (almost 10 years.) By the end of this pregnancy, I will have been pregnant for 45 of those months. 30 more of those months I've spent nursing. Pretty crazy if you ask me. Once the twins are born, I will have been pregnant 18 months out of 25. That's just insane. Of course, they've all been worth it and I would never send any of them back. I'm just ready to be done--having babies that is. Of course, as soon as they come out I'll be trying to figure out how to fit them back inside, even if it's just for a day or two.
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Saturday, August 12, 2006
Just like everyone else, even the chickens find Mark easier to love than the rest of us.
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Friday, August 11, 2006
When I was pregnant with Hunter I was especially irritable. Certain people and certain things seemed to rub me wrong and it wouldn't take much to send me on a rampage. My pregnancies with Noah, Denver and Caleb were much better and except for the occassional bad day, I remained pretty even-tempered. (Of course, Mark might tell you a different story.) I wish I could say the same for this pregnancy but if I did, I'd be lying. I don't remember ever being so cranky and irritable, ever, not even when I was pregnant with Hunter. There's not a day that goes by when I don't feel angry, frustrated feelings, even if most the time they're aimed at our chicken, Lucky.
It really is upsetting, because I don't consider myself an angry person. And I really hate feeling so volatile all the time. There are days I just feel like bawling my eyes out because I'm so frustrated with feeling contrary all the time. And of course, I try and be easy on myself, keeping in mind that I'm pregnant with twins and it has been an especially hot summer, but that never seems to make me feel much better. And I really do try and keep it under control because I've learned that shouting at and shaming my children only makes matters worse and the guilt I ultimately feel from losing my self-control over spilled milk (or whatever) is way worse then just feeling grumpy. But smothering all that anger and frustration is like drinking poison on a daily basis, which is probably why I feel like I need to have a "good cry" on a daily basis--to wash all those toxins out.
It could be that we've also been having a run of bad luck lately and with the pregnancy and the heat, who wouldn't be grumpy? We had a flat tire on the way to reunion, a delayed flight to reunion, our A/C has broken down twice, Mark's got several upcoming business trips, my back is killing me to the point that I feel like a crippled old lady, the doctors have all been idiots lately, record breaking heat, a "to do" list a mile long and on and on and on. We tried to pick up our new car yesterday. We drove all the way into New York, filled out all the paperwork, chased the kids around and around, only to find out they had to wait for our down payment check to clear before they could release the car, even though they called the bank who confirmed all the funds were there. So, Mark gets to go all the way back into New York in a week or so to pick up the car. And somehow I've got to find the money to pay for the sucker for the next, oh. . . ten years of our lives. As well as double the diapers and formula for the next year. And I'm totally stressing about that because at the end of the day you can only stretch a dollar bill so far. I have a million things to do before these babies come and I have the most adorable ball and chain attatched to my hip making things ever so complicated. And every time I think, "oh good I can get ahead" he wakes up or climbs the stairs or falls down and bonks his head, and then, I get nothing done. And I have all these expectations of myself and at the end of the day I just beat myself up for all the things that still remain undone.
And then, worst of all, they go and release me. Weeks before I'm hoping we're going to start practicing for the Primary Program, they release me. I just finished teaching the last song. I just started assigning parts. I was totally getting excited to start practicing with the kids and finally putting together all the hard work we've done this past year and they call me into the office and release me. And it's all I can do not to start bawling. Why now? I thought I had made it clear to the bishopric as well as the Primary Presidency that I wanted to do the Primary Program, that my being pregnant wasn't a problem and I'd be fine. We did it last year in September, and I thought we could do it again this year in September. And I don't know how many times I've mentioned this to the Primary Pres and she's said nothing at all, like maybe September wouldn't work or that they were thinking of releasing me, she just gave me the run around and then--BAM! I'm fired and I get to see none of the fruits of my labors because when they do the program, I'll be flat on my back with my belly cut open and my breasts the size of watermelons. And I'm totally bitter from the injustice of it all.
Anyway, my whole point in writing all of this is for good old posterity's sake. Some day when I look back I'll think, "What a loser. You had it so good and didn't even know it." And I'll laugh at myself and think how silly I was. And of course, when my kids call me up and complain that their wives are so dang grumpy all the time, I'll just send them a copy of this with the promise that they too will get through it and remind them how patient their father always was with me and that in the end, it's all worth it. It's definitely all worth it--every ache, every pain, every inconvenience.
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Thursday, August 10, 2006
Today I had several doctors appointments. Mark, wonderful husband that he is, volunteered to stay home and watch the kids. When I returned home everything was perfectly normal. Caleb had had his nap. Noah had been picked up from Summer Fun. And the other boys were playing happily. Denver came upstairs to greet me and I presented him with three suckers from the Doctor's office and instructions to share them with his brothers, which he happily did. He even sat on the floor with Caleb and shared suck after tasty suck with his brother till both their mouths were bright blue. It was then that I noticed Denver's bottom was all wet. When I asked why, he shrugged his shoulders and acted as surprised as I was. Upon further investigation, I discovered a most unpleasant find--a little bit of poopy. I came to the conclusion that he had gone to the bathroom and hadn't wiped himself very well. I took him upstairs and got him ready to have a bath where I discovered not a little poop, but a great big poopy mess. At that point I did what every mother has to do at least once in their lifetime--I scrubbed the dried, caked on poop off of his little body with my bare hands and then tackled the yuckier mess in his pants. At that point Mark suggested I just toss the pants but I refused since I had just bought him that underwear last week and special Superman underpants cost way too much money to just toss.
Once that fire was out, we returned to our normal routine and I prepared to fix lunch. Except that when I came downstairs I discovered Mark on the bathroom floor with the Clorox wipes cleaning up what looked and smelled like a bunch of poop. Sure enough, Denver had made quite a mess of the bathroom. As it turns out here's what happened--Mark had been on a conference call when Denver decided he just had to go. Denver doesn't need help going potty except that he likes to warn you he's going because he hates sitting on the pot and waiting for someone to help him wipe. So, because Mark was on the phone and Denver knew he wasn't allowed to interupt he also knew he couldn't make the announcement that poop was coming. So he did what any three year old would do--he just did it in his pants. Of course, three year olds also don't like lumps in their pants so he went upstairs and removed the lump single-handedly. He got that much in the toilet. Then, he wiped his hands on the inside of his shirt, which was the thing that totally baffled me--how he got poop on the inside of his t-shirt. When that didn't completely take care of the mess, he used the entire box of wet wipes to finish the job, which got poop everywhere. Then, he returned to the basement where poor Hunter could smell the dirty deed but couldn't get Denver to admit to anything. And now I just wonder, if I rented one of those handy purple lights 20/20 uses when they investigate hotel room cleanliness, how much poopy stuff I'd find all over my house. Yuck!
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Wednesday, August 09, 2006
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Monday, August 07, 2006
 
This year, the one thing Noah wanted planted in our garden were "giant flowers." So, Mark let him plant sunflowers. But not just any sunflowers--they planted twelve foot sunflowers. All summer long we've watched the stalks grow and grow and grow. It's almost been like watching Jack's Beanstalk grow. The boys like to climb through the stalks and pretend it's a forest they're so big. They really are gigantic and yet--no blossoms. All of our neighbors' sunflowers have blossomed. And when we were at the farm picking blueberries, I pointed out that their sunflowers had blossomed. But Noah remained steadfast and faithful and pointed right back at me that they weren't twelve foot sunflowers and it didn't matter. His would surely bloom in time. And that they did. Look what appeared yesterday--but a "bloomed sunflower" of course. They are absolutely gorgeous and amazing. Way to go Noah!
**That's not a 12-foot sunflower you say? Well, you are right. That is one of the shortest of the bunch. As soon as our 12-footer has blossomed, we'll be posting a picture. Just you wait. You will be amazed.
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Sunday, August 06, 2006
We don't know who did it, but we do know, one of our Araucanas laid an egg yesterday. It's this itty-bitty little blue-green thing but it's definitely an egg. Whoever laid it was confused as to where she should lay it, and ended up laying it in the grass by the feeders instead of inside in the wood shavings, but that's okay. Maybe she got hungry in the process and didn't realize how close she was to delivering when she hopped out to grab a snack. Hopefully she'll sort all that out as she gets better at the whole process. Lucky, to this day, has never laid an egg outside of her coop and she's dang good at it now. I imagine it's just a matter of days before they all start laying and we'll have ourselves a nice assortment of blue-green, brown and white eggs, approximately seven a day. Guess I'll never be able to ask a neighbor to lend me an egg again. But then again, we're not keeping all seven chickens and pretty soon there will be eight of us Henrichsen chickens running 'round the place--maybe I'll be justified in borrowing an egg or two every now and then. Maybe.
P.S. The egg on the left is Lucky's egg. The one on the right is from the grocery store. And of course, the egg in the middle is the new egg.
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Thursday, August 03, 2006
A few days ago you decided you were big enough to climb the hardwood stairs all by yourself. You figured out stairs at Grandma and Grandpa's farm a few weeks ago but were still intimidated by our great big hard stairs up to the second floor. We encouraged you on a regular basis to climb up to us but you refused. And on several occasions you climbed up a stair or two and then plopped yourself down and cried until someone came and rescued you. And then one day, you just did it--climbed all the way up to the tippy top of the stairs. Of course, you haven't mastered the art of coming back down those stairs and so, everytime you go up, so do I. And everytime you come back down, you insist on going right back up. Since there are other things on my "to do" list than playing on the stairs and since we don't have a safety gate at the bottom of the stairs yet, I tried building a barracade with a screen from a window and an ottoman to keep you from climbing up when I wasn't watching. Your brothers have tumbled down those horrid stairs and the end result is very bad indeed. For awhile the blockade worked and you were content to stay downstairs with me. But as soon as you discovered that your brothers were all upstairs you insisted on finding a way up those stairs. Awhile later I heard your hands smacking down on the stairs, the way they do when you climb, and you laughing hysterically. I left the dishes to see what you were up to and sure enough, you had moved the barracade out of your way and were very happily climbing up the stairs to find your brothers. When I tried to catch you, you laughed even more hysterically, proud of yourself for outsmarting me, I'm sure. Now there's never a time you climb the stairs when you don't giggle and laugh with glee.
You are presently covered in hives, from head to toe. Shortly after we returned from our trip to Utah you came down with an ear infection. The doctor put you on amoxicillin and you seemed to do fine with it until one morning you woke up with what looked like five or six bug bites on your arm. I thought maybe we'd let a mosquito in the house or that some bug had found you in the night so I tried not to worry too much. By noon you were covered in a million of those bug bite looking things. I gave you some Benadryl and by the time you woke up from your nap, you were looking quite a bit better. I tried to get your pediatrician to call me but to no avail. So, we skipped your penicillin that night. You were up until 3:00 am, fussing and itching. Daddy and I took turns rocking you and trying to soothe you and you finally fell asleep on my lap watching the Food Network. By morning you were covered in hives and there was no mistaking what was wrong with you. So we visited the doctor and he confirmed my suspicions--you're allergic to Penicillin just like Denver. But still. . . despite the massive amounts of hives on your tiny little body and the "excessive heat" we've been having you remain happy as ever. A real trooper.
You are working on cutting three teeth right now. Your teeth did the most interesting thing and decided to come in different from your brothers. You got your two front bottom teeth, like normal. Then, instead of cutting your two top front teeth, you started cutting the two teeth on either side. So, you currently have one and a half fangs and the beginnings of your two front teeth. I wonder if it has anything to do with your thumb sucking habit. Even if it does, there is no way I'm going to stop you from sucking your thumb--it's only about the most adorable thing I've ever seen.
Besides climbing the stairs you've mastered standing on your own, although you don't do it very often. It's only when you've discovered a new toy and you are distracted playing with it, that we catch you standing in the middle of the room like you've been doing it all your life. Or when you are so busy sucking your thumb and holding your silkie that you don't even realize you've forgotten to sit down. You've also managed to take a step or two on your own, but you are far from interested in aquiring that skill and prefer to crawl everywhere you go. You can now clap, drum and wave "hello" on demand. And just about anytime you hear music, you chime in singing a little tune of your own. You still love to jump and dance, but you've also discovered hanging upside down and once you get yourself there, you prefer to stay that way.
At ten months, Caleb, you are a joy. That's nothing new, of course. You're almost always content to crawl and play with your brothers and tear up an occasional magazine. The other day as I was getting ready for church, you were sitting on the edge of the sink, entertaining yourself with the faucet, the toothbrushes and the mirror. Your hair was combed (probably for the first time in your life) and you looked so handsome just sitting there keeping me company. And I found myself wondering why you have to grow so fast? I so desperately want to stop time and keep you just the way you are--your bald little head, your chubby little wrists, the sweet way you suck your thumb. And yet, it's so much fun to watch you grow and change--every day is an adventure with you--how could I ever hold you back? Here's to the sweet baby you are and the wonderful little boy you are becoming--may the moments last forever, even if they're only for a short time.
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