We went to Trumbull Days last night to see the fireworks. Of course we had to walk quite a ways because parking is scarce and the wheel on our stroller broke off and we had to unload all of the babies and carry everything into the fair, but once we actually got there, we had an amazing time, as always. The fireworks show was simply fabulous--we only had a baseball field between us and the cannons--and listening to the kids expressions and excitement was priceless. Here's a small sampling of the show and if you listen close you can hear the kids talking. See if you can hear Jorge Andres say, "I love fireworks" and "Beautiful." I think he's a hilarious little guy. And of course the twins are in full force being cute and adorable. I missed the grand finale but it was freakin' awesome. I think it must have registered on the Richter Scale as a minor earthquake--the ground was totally rumbling beneath us.
I try, every once in awhile, to write down the funny things the kids say but usually I forget them. So, for the past couple of weeks I've been writing down what they say in a saved blog and today I'm finally getting around to posting them. The first quote comes from Denver who just randomly said this one day while sitting on the toilet. "I'm tired of swallowing my spit." That was it. I don't know if he's extremely lazy or if he had a sore throat that day or if he was looking for a creative way to ask for a drink, but I thought that was a really strange thing to be tired of doing. I don't usually think about my spit so much. I get tired of important things like picking up my kids' dirty underwear or listening to the kids fight over game time but never of swallowing my spit.
One of the things I love and hate about Caleb is the way he always wants to cuddle in bed with me. I love that he loves to snuggle with me and he's so delicious when he does. He curls up in a little ball and grabs hold of his silkie and sucks his thumb and he's so warm and he smells so sweet--it's one of the rare joys of Motherhood. But, I hate when he wants to snuggle in bed, oh, say around 2:00 in the morning when I'm trying to sleep and he kicks us in our sides and head butts us and asks us questions like "What's the matter, Mommy" when the only thing the matter is that he's awake and I was asleep. But one of my favorite things he says when he is snuggling with me, whether it's "in the morning or in the afternoon or in the evening underneath the moon" is--"Put your face over here, Mommy." Caleb loves to be nose-to-nose with me when he's snuggling and he never fails to say it, especially when I roll over the other way and am trying to go to sleep. How can I resist rolling back over, however bad my back is hurting, and snuggle him up, nose-to-nose?
None of the kids are big TV watchers. They'll watch when they have nothing else to do, but it's rare to see them vegging in front of the TV unless a video game is involved. Caleb isn't really a TV buff either, but he does have a few shows he loves to watch. Sesame Street is probably his all-time favorite and he's really worked hard learning all of the characters' names. But the other day he requested a show I'd never heard of before. Our conversation went something like this:
"Mommy, I want to watch Underpants Underpants."
"You want to watch what?"
"Mommy, I want to watch Underpants Underpants we're on our way."
"Oh! You want to watch Wonderpets?"
"Yes! Underpants, Underpants!"
Of course his little mix-up has come in quite handy because this past week I potty-trained Caleb and now we have a theme song to go along with his new big boy underpants--Underpants, Underpants we're on our way to tinkle in the potty and save the day! We're not so big and we're not so tough but when we tinkle in the potty we've got the right stuff! Go Underpants! Yay!
I guess maybe because Caleb is two and a half and is processing so much information with his little tiny brain he gets confused a lot and that's why most of this post is about him. But they are such cute mistakes. Back in March I went to Utah to see Kathy and the rest of my family. We're also planning a trip to Utah in a few weeks and we've been talking about it a lot lately. Anyways, all this talk about Utah and Kathy and Caleb has left Caleb really confused. He thinks Utah is really "You Tah." And when he thinks someone else is claiming "Tah" as their own he says, "No, it's My Tah." There is also "Kak's Tah," "Caleb's Tah," "Mommy's Tah," and just good old "Tah." Either way, we're flying to "Tah after Daddy's birthday" and Caleb can hardly wait.
And this last thing isn't really a quote but something the twins do that I think is so funny and cute I thought I'd better jot it down for posterity's sake. Jericho and Justus are really starting to figure out who's who. It would probably be easier for them if Mark and I didnt' mix them up so often. The other day I put Justus in Jericho's swimsuit and Jericho in Justus's swimsuit and called them by the wrong names all afternoon. It wasn't until I went to get them dressed in their pajamas that I figured out my mistake. Anyway, the twins have a little game they love to play with me and it goes something like this:
Mommy: "Justus, where's Justus?"
Justus, pointing to Jericho: "There's Justus."
Mommy: "No Justus, you're Justus. Jericho, where's Justus?"
Jericho, pointing to himself: "Justus."
Mommy: "No Jericho, you're Jericho. Where's Justus?"
Jericho, laughing now and pointing to himself: "Justus."
They are so convincing sometimes I have to double check myself before correcting them. The funny thing is, I'm pretty sure they know who's who because when they look for each other, Justus actually calls for Jericho and Jericho actually calls for Justus. I really think they just think it's funny. But, I'm not sure I'll ever really be sure I know who's who without double checking the swirls on the backs of their heads, the birthmark on Jericho's tummy and the little pockets on the front of Jericho's teeth. Heaven help us all.
We had a glorious day today. The humidity was down, the sky was clear and the temperatures were perfect. I suggested we go strawberry picking and Mark kindly offered to work from home and watch the twins for me. I wasn't about to pass that offer up and loaded the kids into the car as quickly as possible. Caleb clearly had no recollection of picking strawberries last year (he was only one) and he had lots of questions for us as we drove to the strawberry fields. He was mostly curious about what it smelled like there and we kept telling him it smelled like grass and strawberries and plants. It didn't take long for Caleb to catch on picking and eating the strawberries and I only had to tell him to stop taking my strawberries out of my basket a few [million] times. About twenty minutes after we started picking, Caleb matter-of-factly stated, "It smells like Mac-n-Cheese." I didn't smell the Mac-n-Cheese so much but next time your two-year old asks what strawberry picking smells like, now you know.
Hunter was very picky about which berries made it into his basket and any berry that did make it into his basket was deemed a very special "heaven berry." Hunter smelled every berry he picked and made sure it didn't smell sour. Then he hand inspected each one to make sure it was dark red and that none of them were squishy, moldy, or holey. Noah on the other hand, didn't pick any berry that didn't go straight into his mouth and Denver quit picking berries as soon as he had filled his pint carton for Grandma Gribble.
When all was said and done we managed to pick 18 pounds of strawberries and have already converted most of them into jam, pie and pudding. Next month is blueberry season and I'm pretty sure the twins are gonna be in heaven themselves--they sure do love blueberries. And so do I, especially considering we have a prize-winning recipe that uses blueberries. Oh, I can hardly wait!
So last week I spent a good amount of time planning another ward activity. This year we decided to do a Ward Field Day with a twist--instead of individuals racing, we'd have families duking it out for first place. I planned eight different relays: Seed spitting, shoe-kick, tug-of-war, water balloon shaving, sponge relay, pizza delivery relay, suitcase relay and a remove-the-ice-from-the-kiddie-pool-with-your-feet relay. I tried to plan enough different relays that families of all ages and sizes could compete. We ordered some really good Italian Ice for the treat and I put together some silly little prizes for the winners like foot-warming lotion for the ice race and a seedless watermelon for the seed spitting contest. We got up early Saturday and rushed over to the church to put together fifty pizza boxes and fill up water balloons and other odds and ends. Then there was nothing to do but wait. We waited and waited and waited and just when we started thinking no one was going to come, the families started to arrive. We had six families total--not quite the turnout I had hoped for but still enough to have fun with. Our family had a lot of fun and I think everyone that came had fun too. It's not very often I get to just play with my kids and it was really good therapy. Other parents expressed the same sentiments. All of the relays went off without a hitch and everyone ended up taking home a prize, thanks to the small numbers.
One family, the Hogans, won six of the eight relays. They are totally strong and we were all amazed by their speed and their strength. Determined to see them lose something, the ward ganged up on them in the end and challenged them to a tug-of war--their family against the rest of our families. Then, and only then did they finally lose and they didn't go down easy either. See for yourself. I think from now on we'll be calling them the Hulk Hogans.
Mark. Really, is anyone surprised? Thursday night Mark stayed up late baking his little heart out for GE's first annual summer bake-off. Friday morning he jumped out of bed almost as fast as I do after an "oh-shoot" moment and started baking some more. He made his usual Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies and some Fudgy Chocolate Chip Cookies, as well as some of his Amish Bread and Blueberry Biscuits. When the boys saw the biscuits they asked if they could have one and Mark kindly distributed one to each of them. Hunter then muttered something to himself like, "You're definitely gonna win, these are soooo good" and Mark darted out the back door and off to work so his goodies could be tasted and judged by all of his co-workers. And around 2:30pm he called me to inform me that he had won the Blue Ribbon for his Blueberry Biscuits! So now, in case you haven't tried them yet, you really should try these Prize-Winning biscuits for yourself. And maybe Mark really should consider opening up that Bed and Breakfast he's dreamed about for the past 12 years of his life and put those Blueberry Biscuits on the top of the menu.
Several months ago I promised the boys we'd have an end of school party in our backyard and that I'd buy a bunch of cans of whipped cream and silly string and let them clobber each other and make an enormous mess of themselves. Yesterday was the last day of school and that is exactly what we did. It was very fun and very messy and a great way to end the school year. The kids spent a good two hours outside squirting each other with whipped cream and silly string and water cannons and throwing water ballons. Then I hosed them down and they played Nintendo with their buddies until it was time for their friends to go home.
Later that night we went out to eat at IHOP and then hit Toys R Us for a "good report card" treat for each of the boys. While the boys were sitting in the car, Hunter complained that the car smelled like cheese but none of us could put our finger on the source. We kept getting wiffs of the stinky-cheese-almost-like-barf-smelling stench the entire evening until I couldn't stand it anymore and started smelling each of the kids. Oh my! All of them, including myself (because who in their right mind can resist smearing whipped cream all over their kids' faces) smelled like vomit. Apparently, whipped cream sours pretty darn quick in hair and smells atrocious.
Anyway, while I highly recommend this activity, I would strongly suggest you buy a bottle of shampoo with the whipped cream and scrub down the kids with a little more than hose water before you set them free into the house. It's definitely worth the investment.
Getting up in the morning is hard. Can you blame me? I don't know what I look forward to the least--the mountain of laundry I tackle on a daily basis or the three crying babies that permanently attach themselves to my legs the moment they see me. Maybe it's cleaning the toilets or trying to figure out what's for dinner or perhaps it's fighting with the big kids to do their chores or watching the kids spill grape juice all over my newly mopped floor. Whatever it is, there's really not a lot of incentive for me to get up in the mornings. So when I wake up I do one of two things. Roll over and try to go back to sleep. Or, when that doesn't work (which is almost always), I start going through the day and all the things I need to get done. Very reluctantly I scroll through the list--switch the laundry, load the dishwasher, wake the kids up, and on and on. And then almost always I have a thought like, don't forget it's Denver's ice cream social today and you're in charge of bringing 2-1/2 gallons of ice cream up to the school by ten and at that point, when I realize I forgot to pick up the ice cream the night before, I go from zero to sixty in three seconds flat and BOOM! I'm out of bed and on my way.
It rarely fails to get me going. But of course, the system has it's flaws, one of which revealed itself last week when I bolted out of bed and headed for the bathroom. By the time I got there I had forgotten what my "oh shoot" moment was and spent the rest of the morning trying to remember what was so important. I know memory loss is inevitible, but aren't I a little young to be forgetting important things so easily? And what am I going to do when I don't remember the important things at all?
Well. . . the play was simply amazing. I don't know how else to describe it. It was the most amazing feeling sitting there watching these amazing kids perform their hearts out all on behalf of our amazing little Hunter. They all did a phenomenal job and I can honestly say I've never enjoyed a production more or been more touched. I can hardly express enough thanks to all who participated, including those who came last night to support us and those who donated to JDRF. For all of you that couldn't come, here's a little bit of what you missed. And just in case you're thinking a bunch of kids can't make a difference, I'll have you know this bunch raised over $1600 for children with diabetes. Like I said. . . amazing. Simply amazing.
Last week the boys were all outside riding bikes. I asked Denver if he wanted to try riding without training wheels and he agreed, hesitantly. Instead of removing his training wheels, only to have to put them back on, we borrowed Noah's training wheel-less bike. He climbed aboard, I gave him a push, and well, see for yourself.
What we didn't escape is the 15 minutes of storm that did this to our backyard that we've been working so hard to fancy up.
And it did this to our fence which is a total bummer, considering school's out in less than a week and I've got to contain and entertain six little boys for the next three months.
The good news is there is a lot of good news. Our neighbor is being especially kind and has offered to split the cost of removing the tree, which around here ain't cheap. The tree fell while the kids were inside sleeping instead of outside playing underneath it. The boys' have a fort built in that tree and they very easily could have gotten smooshed in there. It didn't fall on our house or anyone else's. And even though Mark picked up our trampoline last night, we didn't have it assembled yet, which would have cancelled our Homeowner's Insurance immediately (another story for another day). We're all alive and still have a house to call home. And as miserable as it is to have such a disaster, Mark and I are both grateful for the reminder that God is in charge and it is only when we are prepared that we need not fear.
A few Sundays ago, the boys were entertaining themselves by writing plays to go with some of the demos on Mark's digital piano. They were very proud of themselves and called us down, just before church to see what they had done. Here are two of their masterpieces. And just in case you start wondering how I did the most phenomenal visual effects--it was one of Noah's plastic gems stuck to the lens of the video camera with Noah's gold silly putty.
We've been hit by a major heat wave the past couple of days and things are finally beginning to feel like summer around here. We seriously went from sixty degree weather to the nineties overnight--hello, August! It was even so hot today that the kids were dismissed early from school and will be again tomorrow. They don't have air-conditioning up at the school and on a day like today the classrooms turn into saunas--it's pretty bad. But you won't hear any of us complaining. We love summer when the kids are home and the play moves outdoors and we're not so cramped up inside and we've got nowhere to be and all-day pajama parties are totally in and there is no homework to be done. Anyway, thanks to the balmy temperatures we've enjoyed dragging out the kiddie pool and the water cannons and soaking up the sun at the Lake and I think all of us are more excited than ever for school to be over with and for the fun of summer vacation to begin. Only six days of school left. Hurray!
We had the McCurdy's over for dinner Sunday and the boys had a blast, blasting each other with the water cannons and dumping buckets of water on their heads.
Noah is in unusually good spirits with the high temps and made sure we all knew that Saturday was "the best day he'd had outside in a really long time." He's lovin' the water and the sun more than candy.
The babies played hard at the Lake until the last 15 minutes before we had to leave, when they happily sat down in the shade and ate some yogurt. I've never seen such a big, sticky, sandy, more adorable mess in all my years.
Right after the twins were born and our house started bursting at the seams, my mom bought us a little wooden plaque that says Love Grows Best in Little Houses. There have been several occassions when I've looked at that plaque and thought, "That's just Mom's attempt at making us feel better about the fact that we live in a house that is much, much too small for the size of our family." Those thoughts usually come on the days when I've stubbed my toe on the furniture and tripped over the toys half a million times and all I see is clutter and mess everywhere I turn. Most of the time, however, I have absolutely no desire to move elsewhere. I honestly love where we live and feel like everything we need is right here. And after seeing Brad and Angelina's French Chateau in a magazine yesterday, I really do believe love grows best in little houses.
If I had a house this big, we'd all get lost and I really would have to spend every waking minute cleaning the place instead of spending time with the kids.
Anyway, yesterday Denver and I decided to check on our baby birds above our front door. I checked myself about a week ago and two of the five eggs had hatched. I assumed that was all that was going to hatch. Then Mark found a baby bird in the yard and that reminded me I hadn't checked the birds with Denver yet and he wanted a picture to take to school. So we dragged the ladder out of the garage and climbed up and here's what we saw.
It's sort of hard to see, but there are five babies in that nest. That nest is so small it would probably fit in the palm of Mark's hand. And that nest is so stuffed, I don't think I've seen anything so crowded in my life. I have no idea how they even breathe in there. But there they were anyway, happy and calm, half asleep, half awake. And that's when I decided, even on the days when I stub my toe, I won't complain about the size of my house ever again.
We had a crazy busy weekend. Friday we had a 14-wheel dump truck with thirty cubic yards of wood chips dump in our backyard. The kids, as you can probably imagine, were thrilled and spent most of the afternoon climbing and digging and playing in the stuff. Then the boys had to go to Jungle Book rehearsal with Mark and afterwards caught Indiana Jones on the big screen.
Saturday we spent a good five hours outside spreading the wood chips out in our soon-to-be play area, complete with trampoline. The way things are now, the swingset is on the grass and between the six boys they've worn the grass away and left three pools of mud in its place. Plus the three big boys have sort of outgrown the swingset and need something to encourage physical activity. So, Mark and I decided with a little heavy labor, we could fancy up our backyard a bit and have room for a trampoline and get our swingset away from the mud. We cleared out a huge part of the yard that was overgrown and full of rocks and branches and junk we'd thrown back there for the past six years. Then we laid weed block fabric over 1600 square feet of backyard. We have another dump truck coming tomorrow with another twenty cubic yards of playground mulch. Once that's spread Mark just has to put in the wood border, move the swingset onto the play area, and assemble the trampoline. Then next year we'll work on fixing all the bald patches of lawn that the swingset and the kids have torn up.
Anyway, spreading the mulch (and piano lessons) took a good chunk out of our Saturday. We finished around 3:00pm. Mark took Caleb to Home Depot for some things for our garden and I got in the shower. When Mark got home I took the three babies to the babysitter and Denver to the mall for some new tennis shoes. We made it back just in time to pick up Mark and the other two boys and head over to the Quick Center to see the BYU Chamber Orchestra perform. I had so much fun with the boys making up stories as the Orchestra performed. At one point, Noah's story had me laughing so hard I could hardly breathe and poor Mark was very disappointed by our behavior. But I was so tired, I suppose a little giggling was better than sawing logs. On our way out of the Quick Center we saw several very large bullfrogs in the parking lot and with a little needling, Mark caught one for us all to see up close. We didn't get home until late and then poor Justus had trouble breathing which made it hard for him to sleep and made our already late night even later.
Sunday morning Mark and I were so sore we had a hard time getting out of bed. I took the twins to the doctor because Justus was having such a hard time breathing, even with the nebulizer and I was worried his ear infections hadn't cleared up all the way. Then I went to church with the three big boys while Mark stayed home with the babies. After church we ate dinner outside and finally got our garden planted in our new and improved raised garden, thanks to a lot of hard work on Mark's part the past few weeks. We planted carrots, lettuce, zucchini, squash, cucumbers, tomatoes, sugar-snap peas and 12 foot sunflowers. We roasted marshmallows for dessert and called it a night. This doesn't happen all the time, but a lot of the time, Mark and I work together like a fine-oiled machine. This weekend was no exception and despite our sore muscles and aching backs, we both feel really good about all that we accomplished. We worked hard and played hard and spent some good times together as a family--the perfect equation for true happiness if you ask me.
