Butter Thief Strikes Again!

Three chunks missing, one set of teeth -- belonging to our lovely three-year old.

What Have I Done?

This year for Riley's birthday party with friends, we came up with a mini-spa day.  I'll be doing little facials and fingernails and suffocating in a cloud of mixed perfume.  What was I thinking?  I hardly ever do my own nails, much less 5-8 sets of little hands.  We'll see how this goes, and I hope it's fun.  Seriously.  It's the only way I'll consider giving any more birthday parties ever again.

Happy Birthday, Riley!

Nine years ago yesterday, we held our chunky bundle of joy in our arms for the very first time.  I remember thinking that I was prepared for parenthood.  Most of my tween and teen years were spent babysitting.  Diapers were no mystery to me, and I could prepare bottles one-handed. 

I soon discovered that no amount of practicing could prepare me for Riley.  She was (and is) a beautiful girl with bright blue eyes and a mop of light brown hair on her tiny little head.  I loved to run my fingers through that hair of hers.  In addition to her adorably cute features was her strong, volatile personality.  She could be as quiet as a mouse one minute and screaming the next.  She never slept, and wanted to eat every hour or so.  By three weeks old, she was colicky.  Great.  After a trip to the doctor and some soy formula, the colic worked itself out.  And eventually she transformed into a fairly mellow baby who would stare at bright colors and learn to talk by seven months old.

And not just mama and dada.  We're talking real words like kids and boom.  Sentences strung together by one year old and a vocab list of over 100 words by 15 months.  That old adage, "We spend the first year trying to make the kids talk, and the rest of our lives telling them to be quiet" seems appropriate.  The child even talks in her sleep.

Now Riley is nine, and I have loved every moment of being her mommy.  She tries my patience and tests her boundaries frequently and sasses me almost every time her mouth opens.  She loves fashion and beautifying herself.  Art is one of her passions.  Most days I want to pull my hair out.  But I try to remind myself of her tiny little newborn head, and running my fingers through that mop of hair.  I tell myself that God has entrusted this girl-child to my care because he knew I was the perfect mama for her.

Was I prepared for children?  Sure.  Was I prepared for Riley?  Not so much.  I'm still learning.  I hope she looks back on her life and knows how much she was loved, even though I wasn't a perfect parent all the time.  I hope she realizes that she will always be my baby.  My fussy little baby girl, the first to be held in my arms, and the first of my own to hear me sing a lullaby.

Nine precious years.  Happy Birthday, Riley Claire! 

Isaac Walking

He's been taking a step or two here and there over the last couple of days.  

Finally got the cute little sucker on video.  He absolutely loves playing with his Riley.

The Law of Nines by Terry Goodkind

Alexander Rahl is a struggling midwest artist who gets an unwelcome gift on his 27th birthday:  insanity.  Or, at least, that is what everyone believes.  His mother went insane at 27 and it looks like the crazies are coming his way.

This is a fast-paced adventure that follows Alex as he tries to save two worlds from a "different kind of human".  Fans of Goodkind's previous Sword of Truth series that began with Wizard's First Rule will recognize the Rahl name.  I'm pretty sure that you can follow this story if you've never delved into that other world, but I find it fascinating to read a parallel. 

I will admit, I'm only thirteen chapters into this one.  It's a hefty book, easily used as a weapon or a doorstop in a pinch.  But it's killing me to wait until bedtime to pick it up again, and I may just neglect the kids a while.  Kidding, kidding.  

Kind of.  ;)

Laundry Day

Super Saturday!

Ah, Saturday.  A day to relax, kick back, maybe putz around the house doing odd jobs that I've been putting off.  Uh, not so much.  The first day of my weekend was a continuation of the Friday before, which meant lots of preparation for Savvy's birthday party with her friends on Saturday afternoon.  I gave up on trying to get the basement clean for a play area.  Instead, I threatened to take all the girls' things if their room was spotless.  Room clean:  check.  Made the birthday cake on Friday afternoon and let it cool for frosting.  This year's theme was horses.  Got up Saturday morning and finished the cake, so check that off the list.  Got some cool little crafts at Target on clearance for the kids to work on at the party.  Opened those up and prepped them as much as I could and still have parts for the kids to put together in a short period of time.  Tidied up the house, stuffed a bunch of laundry baskets up in my room, locked that door, made Kool-aid, hung decorations and glanced at the clock.  2:58pm.  Nice!  Two minutes to spare.  

Overall, the party was fun, but it would have been nice to have a helping hand now and then with the little ones.  But I survived and was pleasantly surprised that Savvy's friends were well-behaved and didn't scream and cry and tear up and down the stairs.  Riley fed Isaac his bottle at one point, and the day pretty much went better than expected.

Then I got to relax for about 27 minutes before getting everyone ready to head to Jesse's parents' for Carol's birthday get-together.  It was nice being with family and getting to see Jesse's brothers and my sis-in-law.  Who called me her "sister" and not her "sister-in-law", which just about made my day.  (I heart you, Carly!)

Eight o'clock and we load up, come home, chuck the kids in bed.  Relax until 2100, and then hit the hay.  I finished the book White by Ted Dekker, and was very pleased with the way the trilogy ended.  I will review it in another post.

So, today is Sunday and I'm keeping the little ones home with me and sending the older ones to Sunday school with Grandma and Pop.  Isaac and Brooke have a cold, and I'll spend the day praying that I won't get it next.  I'll count my blessings and thank God that tomorrow is a day off for Jesse, and I'll remember to be grateful for these random bits of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic life.

The Neverending Story

Quick thought for the day:  I have become a servant.  No longer do I plan my day around the tasks I would like to complete because they give me pleasure or a sense of accomplishment.  My scrapbooking papers and scissors no longer lay out in the open on the table, begging to be used.  The pile of books I used to have waiting to be read has been reduced to one meager, lonely book that sits at my bedside thankful that I get to spend fifteen minutes reading it before passing out at night.

I love motherhood and my children.  I love wifehood and my husband.  But dagnabbit!  I want to do something for myself.  There is bound to be a light at the end of this long-suffering tunnel.

And now, back to work.

Butter Thief

My mom used to tell me stories of finding tooth tracks on the stick butter when I was a toddler, and since I was the only toddler in the house at the time she knew the culprit.

Looks like the behavior is genetic.  So, I blame my mother and father for passing this gene to me, and thus to my beloved daughter as well.

Brooke leaves her mark in the manner of her ancestors.

Happy Birthday, Savvy-girl!

Yesterday was Savannah's 7th birthday, and what better way to celebrate than to skip school and head down to the Great Lakes Aquarium for a field trip.  After that we visited the great-grands and overloaded them on kid-energy.  Fun, fun!

Hard to photograph how pretty the drive down Lake Avenue in Duluth is, but it is one of my favorites.

The girls in front of the Great Lakes Aquarium

Our Savvy girl is 7!

Supposed to be able to pet stingrays, but the water was being treated.

Savvy named this catfish Butch.

Jesse taking in the views of the lake

Just thought this was a funny sign

After the aquarium we visited the great-grands.  And picked apples.

Savvy was the gatherer after Jesse climbed the tree and shook them to the ground.

Yeah, I don't know.  Sometimes Riley is just plain weird.

Our handsome boy playing in the fall leaves.

Getting ready to make a wish

Hard to believe that our second girl is already seven.  But I am still in denial of the "these days just fly by" theory on raising children.  These days have NOT flown by.  Often times, I've felt that I've been dragged kicking and screaming through the nine years of Motherhood that I've experienced.  Maybe what people mean by flying time is the fact that we lose memories.  What song did I sing to lull her to sleep, and what tooth came in first?  If that is what the wise parents of the world mean, then I totally agree.  Seems like it has gone fast when I try to pick those precious jewels out of the mess of my brain.

But I love watching my Savvy-girl sleep.  When her face is at ease, peaceful, I remember holding her in my arms and rocking her to Dreamland while she contentedly sucked that crazy pacifier for dear life.  I remember having to buzz her cute little head at two months old because she was born with a samurai topknot and not much else.  I close my eyes and remember pulling moths out of her mouth, thankfully un-masticated.  The memories that remain, I cherish.

Ah, the manipulations begin ...

Supposedly left for me by Daddy, instructing me to give her a behavior buck.  Uh huh, sure.

Cleaning Machine

Woke up morose, as you can tell by my previous post.  Down and out because I had an awful day yesterday and rolled out of bed with the bummed feeling strapped to my shoulders.  

Didn't take me long, however, to realize I don't like hanging on to bad feelings and I can't stand being down.  So I did the next best thing to moping, which is cleaning.  Like a mad woman.  I'm a cleaning machine!

Not that you could tell if you walked into my house.  You'd inhale the wonderful aroma of a vanilla candle and nearly trip over the shoes and stray basket in the doorway.  On your way down, say thanks to the two tornadoes that seem to destroy the areas I've just cleaned and leave chaos in their wake.  And don't be fooled ... the smallest tornado packs the biggest punch.

After you push up and dust yourself off, try to avoid the four laundry baskets crowding the living room doorway.  They're just there to prove that I've actually washed, dried and folded some laundry.  I like to leave it there as motivation.  Don't worry -- it's next on the list to be put away.

I've rearranged a closet previously home to lots and lots of junk, homeless odds and ends.  Now it's a coat closet, with all our winter coats hanging and hats, mittens and gloves peacefully resting in baskets on shelves.  I also managed to organize a hallway closet and sweep the floors.

And here's a picture to prove that my kitchen countertop can be clean:

Unfortunately, five minutes later it's covered up again.  Good thing is that I will always have something to clean.  Now if that isn't depressing, I don't know what is.  ;)


Postscript:

I finish posting the above entry, and look over to find this:

If I were a duck ...

Taken from www.alaska-in-pictures.com

... I could fly.  Take wing and kiss the sky, and leave my troubles on the earth by that serene pond I call home.  Or take a dive and look for dinner.  A dinner I don't have to cook.  

If I were a duck, all my ducklings would line up in a row and follow me with nary a squawk.  We would swim all day and the only worries would be a stray fox eyeing us from the shoreline or the coming winter.

In which case I would stretch my wings and fly south, back home to the warmth of sun-baked rocks in December.  I would watch those crazy Texans celebrate Christmas in shorts and tank tops.

If I were a duck, the hurts of this world would roll off my back and slide to the leaf-strewn ground behind me.  I'd get rained on and it wouldn't matter.  A shake of my feathers and the discomfort is gone.

If only it were that easy.  

If only I were a duck.

The Epitome of Lazy

Confession time:  today I am a lazy mama.  I have no desire to accomplish anything, other than finish Red by Ted Dekker.  Which is an awesome book, possibly more awesomer than the first one.  And, yes, I know this is not a word but it works just as well.  

About the only thing I accomplished was popping popcorn on the stove, the old-fashioned way.  I thought the older girls would get a kick out of seeing the kernels sizzle and explode.  But, of course, I was wrong.  They would rather watch Hannah Stinkin' Montana.  With a tub of popcorn in their laps, no thanks to Lazy Mama.

At the moment, The Boy is upstairs for nap #2.  He's been such a sweetie pie today, coming up to me and smooching all over my face.  I absolutely love the way babies give kisses.  A mouth wide-open, tonsils-showing droolfest coming right atcha.  Sweet and a little gross at the same time, but cherished nonetheless.

"Crazy Mom with Glasses" by Brooke

And now, for the Rest of the Story

I walk up the stairs with The Boy in my arms, take the safety gate off the doorway and go into the room that Isaac shares with the little heathen known as Brooke.  I knew she was awake, because the pitter patter of little feet heard on the baby monitor gave her away.  The tumbled covers on her bed made me think she was hiding, so I went and ripped them away and said, "Boo!"  However, the surprise was on me.

She wasn't in her bed.  Retreating, I look in the bathroom, the older girls' bedroom, my room.  Nothing.  No Brooke.  Then I catch some movement out of the corner of my eye, and BAM! there she is ... sitting in her brother's crib with his pacifier in her mouth.  Guess we haven't completely conquered the Pappy Addiction.

But this won't interfere with my Saturday sloth.  Yes, she was disciplined.  And now I'm about to blissfully go back to reading and hoping that the little ones are happy to watch Phineas and Ferb figure out what THEY are going to do today.

Me?  A whole lotta nothin'.

A Tale of Two Fridgies

Once upon a time there was The Man.  This man had a refrigerator.  A pretty tall, newish icebox that traveled with him and his family for a few years, going from home-to-home with nary a care and always knowing it would have a home.

Until The Man and his family moved to northern Minnesota and into a 100-year old home.  This home's previous tenants were evidently satisfied to live with a gallon of milk, a bottle of salad dressing and a carrot or two.  Thus, they had a tiny refrigerator (boo!  hiss!) and remodeled the kitchen around it.

But The Man had a plan.  He could bring in his jigsaw and just cut the bottom facing piece a little, sand it down, and voila!  Presto, change-o, the old/new fridge has a home again.

Except during the all-expense paid travels from home to home, the trusty big fridge had developed, shall we say, a warped sense of humor.

As in, "Hey, you don't know this, but my top is warped and all your measurements are gonna be off.  Bwahahahaha!  Now you'll have to totally knock out the bottom of the cabinet to make room for me, sucka!  Serves you right for keeping me in the garage in that last place."

Insert growling, banging, sawing, sanding, re-sawing, some more sanding, grunting, wedging and pushing.  All the while keeping a curious crawler and a trying toddler out of the way, while refereeing Tyson and Holyfield in the other room.

Got it all set up, though, so we breathed a sigh of relief.  And then let it out again and growled a little more when we realized that the ornery old thing wasn't cooling.  Good thing The Man's father was here and told us it probably just needed to be upright overnight and then it would work again.

Thankfully, the father-in-law was right and now we have all of our goodies in the newish-old fridgie. 

The small fridge has a home with The Man's brother, Brandon, and all is well in the kitchen once again.  

Next project:  refinishing the cabinets in said kitchen.  Should be fun.

One of those days ...

Sadly, it's been one of those days that I wish I could crawl into bed, wrap the covers over my head and not come up for air for about 24 hours. 

I try not to complain about the cushy life I lead, but sometimes it has its moments.  

Like when Thing 3 wakes up at 0630 (which is against Family Code unless you are gainfully employed by an external employer and must report for duty) and wakes up Thing 4 by turning on the light and rummaging through the closet, climbing on the rocking chair, slamming the bedroom door and snatching The Boy's pappy from the crib.

Combine this with a teething baby who isn't happy awake, and can't sleep because he's teething and Thing 3 keeps waking him up.

Mix that with a husband sleeping off a night shift and shake well -- in a corner in the fetal position while Thing 3 jumps off the coffee table and bangs her head on the lovely hardwood floors and Thing 4 shoves an unidentified substance into his mouth for the 37th time today.

Beat your head against the wall about 30 times, or until well pulped.  This allows you to get some relief from the constant whining when Things 1 & 2 come home from school, fighting and pushing and crying and spilling half a gallon of milk on the floor.  Which promptly runs under the refrigerator.  

I envy the milk.

How Spoiled Can I Be?

Yesterday the internet and phone -- which connects through the internet -- were down for most of the afternoon and evening.  I am ashamed and surprised at how peeved I became.

How dare they disconnect me from the world?!  Doesn't Mediacom know that I will have to do something else to occupy my time?  Like cleaning, or remodeling the house, or parenting my children?!  Sheesh.

I just sat and stared at the modem for a while, hoping the little green Online line would magically illuminate.  After a while, I got up.  But I hummingbirded the computer and phones all night, and that got me thinking how incredibly spoiled I am.

What the heck did we do before internet, before phone?  Why was I so disgusted with the inability to "connect" with my friends?  Mostly importantly, why was it a priority in my life?

Guess I have some soul-searching to do, but I can see what a spoiled child I've become.  I take for granted the luxuries I possess and forget all the blessings heaped at my feet.  I stare at a pantry full of food and say there's nothing to eat.  I'm warm and cozy in my house, not shivering on a sidewalk somewhere.

So, thanks, Mediacom, for waking me up with a slap in the face.

Book Review: Black by Ted Dekker

Ah, the first of (hopefully) many book reviews, with a shameless link to purchase the book from Amazon and give me an associate percentage.  Girl's gotta make a living somehow, right?  Hehe.

 
     Black by Ted Dekker is the story of Thomas Hunter, a guy who is shot while running from knee-breaking loan shark thugs, loses consciousness, and wakes up in a very vivid dream --or is it another reality?  In this new dimension, Hunter discovers that there is going to be vicious virus released in his other life, a deadly strain that will wipe out most of the face of humanity.  When Hunter regains consciousness, he tries to convince the world that a virulent superbug is about to do some major damage.  Black is the tale of Hunter's race against the clock and the disbelief of others as he tries to change "history".

     I loved the fast-paced action and the succint, but detailed, prose.  Dekker spins a great yarn.  The three days I had to wait for the library to open so I could get the next book in The Circle trilogy were some of the longest days of my life.  Well, maybe not, but you get the picture.

Reflections

Wouldn't it be nice if ... 

• ... I could eat Butterfingers all day and not gain an ounce.
• ... the hooligans could be seen and not heard.
• ... the heathen could look at a room, actually see the mess they've made and offer to clean it.
• ... the Boy stayed put during a diaper change instead of thrashing around like a cat about to get a bath.
• ... I had a tree in the back yard that grew money.
• ... I cleaned the house and it stayed clean for more than five minutes.
• ... I had a maid to clean for me.  (Yeah, I like that one.)
• ... the aquariums were capable of self-cleaning.
• ... dishes washed themselves and laundry folded itself.
• ... I went for a walk, and I dropped ten pounds for every mile I walked.  Instantly.
• ... the hubs and I could have a date night more than once a year.
• ... someone gave me an all-expense paid trip to Ireland.  Or England.  Or Scotland.  
• ... I invented a time machine.  And then I could go back in time to Colonial America like I've always wanted to do, but can't since I haven't invented my time machine.  Yet.  Maybe I do in the future, and then I came back and wrote this ridiculous blog entry to throw you off.  Hmmm.  Plausible.
• ... the mysteries of the universe were revealed to me in a dream.
• ... I could move things with my mind.  Yeah.  That'd be an awesome superpower.  Couple that with the first wish and then I'd sit in a comfy chair, watch HGTV, and clean the house while scarfing down Butterfingers all day.
• ... I had something worthwhile to blog about today.

What if this cricket weren't so darn creepy?

Oh, well.  Guess that last one is a long shot.  ;)

Personality!

Jesse had mentioned to me a while back that he did a personality test, and it gave him some insight into his particular personality.  I did the test today and found that it accurately described me.  Here's what the test tells me about myself:

My Results:  INTJ (code speak for the following)

• I – Introversion preferred to extraversion: INTJs tend to be quiet and reserved. They generally prefer interacting with a few close friends rather than a wide circle of acquaintances, and they expend energy in social situations (whereas extraverts gain energy).
• N – Intuition preferred to sensing: INTJs tend to be more abstract than concrete. They focus their attention on the big picture rather than the details and on future possibilities rather than immediate realities^.
• T – Thinking preferred to feeling: INTJs tend to value objective criteria above personal preference. When making decisions they generally give more weight to logic than to social considerations.
• J – Judgment preferred to perception: INTJs tend to plan their activities and make decisions early. They derive a sense of control through predictability, which to perceptive types may seem limiting.

Taken from Wikipedia.org:  

Hallmarks of the INTJ include independence of thought and a desire for efficiency. They work best when given autonomy and creative freedom. They harbor an innate desire to express themselves by conceptualizing their own intellectual designs. They have a talent for analyzing and formulating complex theories. INTJs are generally well-suited for occupations within academia, research, consulting, management, science, engineering, and law. They are often acutely aware of their own knowledge and abilities—as well as their limitations and what they don't know (a quality that tends to distinguish them from INTPs). INTJs thus develop a strong confidence in their ability and talents, making them natural leaders.

In forming relationships, INTJs tend to seek out others with similar character traits and ideologies. 

Agreement on theoretical concepts is an important aspect of their relationships. By nature INTJs can be demanding in their expectations, and approach relationships in a rational manner. As a result, INTJs may not always respond to a spontaneous infatuation but wait for a mate who better fits their set criteria. They tend to be stable, reliable, and dedicated. Harmony in relationships and home life tends to be extremely important to them. They generally withhold strong emotion and do not like to waste time with what they consider irrational social rituals. This may cause non-INTJs to perceive them as distant and reserved; nevertheless, INTJs are usually very loyal partners who are prepared to commit substantial energy and time into a relationship to make it work.

As mates, INTJs want harmony and order in the home and in relationships. The most independent of all types, INTJs trust their intuition when choosing friends and mates—even in spite of contradictory evidence or pressure from others. The emotions of an INTJ are hard to read, and neither male nor female INTJs are apt to express emotional reactions. At times, INTJs seem cold, reserved, and unresponsive, while in fact they are almost hypersensitive to signals of rejection from those they care for. In social situations, INTJs may also be unresponsive and may neglect small rituals designed to put others at ease. For example, INTJs may communicate that idle dialogue such as small talk is a waste of time. This may create the impression that the INTJ is in a hurry—an impression that is not always intended. In their interpersonal relationships, INTJs are usually better in a working situation than in a recreational situation.

Susan B. Anthony was also an INTJ.  May seem like a bunch of hooey, but I found it insightful and helpful to know how others see me.

Pumpkin Fest, Prairie Fire, and Fever -- Oh, My!

Action packed day in small town U.S.A.!  Pumpkin Fest at the community/senior's center in town was pretty much what I expected.  Lots of pumpkins, a wagon ride in an old-fashioned buggy pulled by draft horses, arts & crafts, and carnival games for the kiddies.  The kids had a great time decorating their own pumpkins and riding in the wagons.

After that was a community theater production of "Cinderella".  Prairie Fire is a traveling production company that goes from town to town and puts on a play in a week, try-outs to play in about five days.  I took the older girls to the play, which was the story of Cinderella set in a 1950s era ... a sock hop instead of a ball, that sort of thing.  Riley and Savvy loved it, and I thought it was okay.  I had to keep reminding myself that it was mostly a children's production, as 97% of the cast were kids.  

And then this evening Savvy came down with a fever.  She's had a sore throat since yesterday, so I'm hoping it's not strep throat and just a virus of some sort.  Praying that the fever stays away and she's feeling better by tomorrow.  Jesse's brother, Darren, and his wife, Carly, were supposed to join us for supper tonight -- ribeyes and baked potatoes.  Don't really blame them for not staying, but they missed out on some great steaks!

The most I got accomplished on the house was a couple loads of laundry and hung a shower curtain.  Oh well, tomorrow will come soon enough.  

Sunday's agenda:  church shopping, maybe a little painting, and rest!  Lots of rest!

Here are a few pictures from our time at the Pumpkin Fest.

Cookie Monster

Isaac had his first Oreo cookie the other night.  Needless to say, he loved it.  The pictures prove it.  I had to clean it off The Boy, his hair, hands, ears, nose, floor, refrigerator, fingers and toes. 

Beautiful Day!

Got U-2 screaming "It's a beautiful day!" in my head.  Gorgeous weather today!  I strapped the little ankle-biters into the stroller and decided to walk to the post office and then take a little foot tour of our small town.  Of course, that just reminded me of how out-of-shape I truly am.  By the time I dragged myself home, I was sweaty, aching and feeling like I had an aneurysm in my brain.  But still -- it was so nice to get outside. 

That reminded me ... here are a few pictures I took a couple of weeks ago, before the trees dropped their leaves.  Mostly naked trees up here now, with the exception of the evergreens.  Enjoy!