taco

"taco" was jacob's name for charlie. we called him "chuckles" when we brought him home, and 13 month old jacob couldn't quite pronounce it. charlie has since christened himself "chuckle cat" and has been meowing and licking us for over a year now. on tuesday he turned 3. 3! i still remember all too vividly pushing his big head out - sans epidural. he was (and still is) a big boy. 9'13" with a head and chest circumference of 24 inches. he is the only one of the brood that looks like me. so for his birthday he requested a "motorcycle" party. i attempted a cake. it looked so easy online. all i can say is i am grateful for chocolate cake that blended in with the green frosting on the track. it gave it an authentic rugged look - or so i tell myself. we took him to ryan's parents house for a "motorcycle ride". it's really a motorized bike that only goes so fast, and we rode it on the grass of their acreage.
charles is our cuddliest child (not a real word, i know, but describes him so aptly). anytime i am stationary, he sidles up next to me and leans against me. he likes to "fishhook" baby henry, and often is so vigorous in rocking his bouncy seat that he nearly launches him out of it. when he could finally pull himself to a standing position, he asserted his authority over his brother and sister by smacking or simply immobilizing them by sitting on top of them. he outweighs his six year-old sister by 3 pounds. poor jacob - he is the elder, smaller brother. he loves to say "awesome!". he sticks his fingers into the butter whenever it's near enough for him to reach and eats it. charlie has a penchant for nudity and likes to relieve himself outside. i catch him in the back yard half-dressed most days. one of his first words was motorcycle, but he pronounced it "moo-moo, cow-cow". needless to say, for a long time we just thought he liked cows. my three little boys, growing up in farm country...i just hope they don't take up hockey. i don't think i could be happy about that.

I laugh in the face of privacy...

I am literally never alone...not when I'm napping, not when I'm eating, not even when I'm in the bathroom (yes, there are miliseconds here and there, but i'm usually interrupted). I type this as Henry leans against me as only an 8-week-old can - kinda wobbly and slumped, bobbing and cooing. Though I miss being alone, I love this little boy and his three older siblings who have robbed me of my privacy. I love them more than my privacy a thousand times over.

Massage Spearamints

I was lying in the double bed of my six-year-old with all four kids when we began one of my favorite pasttimes: I sprawl relaxing and the kids massage me. They have names for each of the massages they administer: the spike, the rectangles, square-square-circle-square, pinchers, etc. I was half-asleep and blissful when I heard the following from my eldest children, ages 6 and 4: "Mom, you don't have to go to the massage house to get a massage anymore, because we are right here and we can do it. We are your massage spearamints." Followed by: "Mom, do you want to waste your money and have none money to go to Seattle and Tofino?" (our yearly pilgrimmage, taken in the spring). Who can argue with that? Guess I'm staying home.

Love in the Time of Swine Flu

As my 6 year-old has contracted some plague from school and since brought it home to all the rest of us (she caught it the first day no less!) I have begun to wonder whether or not I should have homeschooled this year. I seriously thought about it - I even took it a step further and registered us - and then I had a baby. Who was I kidding? I'm lucky if we get the dishwasher unloaded and a load of underwear folded, let alone trying to teach Miss B how to read. But her sickness right of the bat gives me pause, and my mind turns to little scenarios I have played over in my head even before the whole Swine Flu media ruckus began: what if we had a sweet little co-op of home-schooled kids right here in our neighborhood and the moms took turns teaching about the subjects they knew best? I would teach English and Spanish, S. would teach voice and piano, P. teaches math, etc. In this idyllic little world, we finish our "school work" after a few hours and spend the rest of the day exploring, cooking, reading, visiting a museum, hiking, ya-da ya-da ya-da. My reverie (including touring Europe together) is then interrupted by my 3 year-old flooding the kitchen and then gleefully tap-dancing down the hall with peanut-butter covered hands, the newborn awakes and howls to be held, and the four-year old falls yet again from his bike (sans helmet). Also, I remeber how well my last session of trying to help B read went; too embarassing for me to detail, let's leave it at I'm an impatient jerk.

angry drivers

mean people suck! and i mean that in the kindest way possible. but have you ever thought about all of the negative energy floating around out there that is such a waste of intelligent thought and productivity? let me tell you what happened to me: firstly, i am the most directionally challenged person you will ever meet. i get lost going to church in my small town (as in 7000 people, 1 main street, no stoplights) if i don't go the same way every time. we've lived here for 5 years. so, it was briar's first day of tap class, and procrastinator that i am we had no noisy shoes. so i robbed her from school a little early (gotta get the right fit, ya know) and set off to find the dance supply store, which i've been to, armed with the phonebook (so i could look up the address and call them just in case i got lost). i confused 7th street with 7th ave. and ended up in one of my favorite parts of town - lots of older homes and hilly, narrow streets. i must have run a stop-sign or cut this woman off, i'm not sure, but all of the sudden i hear this loud, insistent honking. but i can't see where it is coming from (blind spot?). i look all around and still see nothing, so i slow down, and...ZOOM! suddenly this trendy SUV is right behind me, honking still. i start to pull over and i notice there is some wild hand gesticulation going on...i'm kind of unsuspecting and always willing to give the benefit of the doubt, so i say to myself: this woman can't possibly be giving me the bird, can she? i now know i made her angry by something i did with my vehicle, so i pull over and lift my hands and mouth "i'm so sorry". still, i have no idea what i did. she shakes (snaps, more like it) her head angrily and begins screaming at me...i can't hear it, cuz i thankfully kept my windows rolled up, but i can see spittle flying and unfortunately, some of her foul language was not lost in lip-reading translation. she's red in the face and positively screeching at me...i'm glad the kids were in the back and as such blind to this commotion as well as soundproofed. i kept trying to apologize, but she wouldn't have it. which i don't understand, b/c what else could i do? i truly was sorry, and on the verge of tears at this point. for some reason, whenever someone gets angry with me, justified or not, i feel an inch tall and can't help but turn on the waterworks. she finally gives me a double bird, dramatically waving both hands at me and telling me what she wants me to do with myself, and speeds off. i sat there shaking and trying to compose myself, and then kept driving. by that point, i really had a hard time finding the shop. my mind was completely disoriented and befuddled. i think she would have physically attacked me had i left my vehicle. whatever i did, it was completely inadvertent. as if i would purposefully endanger myself, this woman, or my four children. what was most apalling of all? as she drove away i caught a glimpse of multiple carseats in the back of her stylish ride.

Mom, I Just Like Hanging Around With You!

says charlie, age 2 almost three. as he says it, he's literally hanging off of my arm with a beaming face...then he tries to hang off of my leg and falls onto the flsor. he's gorgeous: luminous hazel eyes, light brown curls, round all over. i like his newest excuse: "but i'm not old enough". this applies to whatever it is he currently does not want to do.

thoughts right now

i'm listening to my newborn squirm in his crib and try fitfully to get back to sleep. the two older boys are watching television, a tactic for "me time" i swore i'd never revert to...ah well, i've done lots of things i didn't intend to, television time being relatively harmless. briar is at school. finally. i mean FINALLY. the first week she was out 3 of the five days, only to miss this tuesday after the long weekend. this morning she dressed herself in jeans and a long-sleeved tee, much to my dismay and frustration. see, i'm irritated (read: infuriated) b/c i bought a slew of hip skirts she readily approved in the store and now refuses to wear. since when did she become a tomboy? long weekend...how did we spend it? ryan started building a shed on our dream property of 10 acres that currently has no house, just some trees and berry bushes. the kids and i attempted to entertain ourselves, though we longed for hikes in waterton or at least playtime at the newly renovated henderson lake playground. but alas, the wind blew. it blew and it blew and it blew. we took lunch to daddy and uncle fritz, grabbing frantically at our food as the wind relentlessly tried to scatter it across our pasture. baby hen and i stayed inside the confines of the van and watched warily as char and j navigated the weeds, powertools, and discarded blocks of wood. i then took my tiny entourage shopping, an exercise in patience i promptly failed. we headed home to create our special: "back to school feast/family home evening" (borrowed from amy, borrowed from someone else - thanks amy!) and i bravely, but maybe not so nicely, attempted it alone. i wonder, how well does the message of christlike love and example sink in when mom is snapping? after we finished the entree and were preparing to do some formal reading related to our theme, briar puked all over the bathroom. she tearfully watched her brothers eat the ice-cream i purchased for all of us to celebrate with...she got it, but it still hurt.