Gravel Goats

So we are apparently stockpiling gravel.

Misunderstandings can make you fall off your bar stool

So on Tuesdays and Thursdays Bryce always has a cute little book for part of his homework.  He has to read it three times for practice.  Sometimes we just scoot through it.  Sometimes he reads it once to me, once to Dad, and once to Grandpa or his brothers.

Last night we decided to have fun.  I referenced the game, "The Doggy Licked Me"*, and we took our time with the third go through, trying out different accents and attitudes.

At one point Phil appeared in the kitchen and contributed a solid hillbilly line or two. Then he disappeared to go check on the splashing alligators in the bathtub.

Well, Bryce and I had worked our way the favorites: Scrooge McDuck, Frenchy-Pants, Speedy Gonzales, super-angry-groucho, scaredy-cat, sleepy . . . and we were ready to try something new.  I said (because apparently I will never learn to be 100% appropriate), "Let's read it fast like we really have to go to the bathroom".  So funny.

[a minute or two passes, Bryce and I decide to finish reading regularly]

Phil enters the kitchen.  Bryce, in turn decides that he's ready for an encore says, "Mom!  Let's read it again like we're going to the bathroom!!!" Oh semantics.  Phil gave the me look.  The, "'we're having tea with the queen here and you just burped' look". I tried to rescue my reputation, "No! No! No! I said, 'like we have to go to the bathroom! you know, fast! like you have to go--not going--go".  Phil gives me another look.  The, "that's not a whole lot better look. You are the mom, you know".

At this point I was laughing so hard, of course picturing someone reading the book the way Bryce had misspoken.  I really did almost fall off the bar stool.

 And because you're dying to know: *("The Doggy Licked Me" game is where I say that line and the boys have to guess if "I'm sad or mad or scared or happy or sleepy or grumpy or sneezy or etc".  The game is a hit for helping kids connect their tone with their attitude, and also just a general way to get some major laughing with your kids at any time.  So fun.  I'm an amazing person for somehow forgetting where I got this idea and now claiming full credit for "The Doggy Licked Me" game).

 

Chainsaw!

 So Bryce is pretty excited about Deacon's birthday chainsaw.

Everyday Busy

December is a busy month! I love seeing what all my little guys are up to in the same minutes, and this was it.

So far we've given Sean his Christmas gift early: a rain forest jumperoo, which he loves! Deacon dresses himself in his birthday camo as soon as it cycles through the wash, and he spent a quiet morning playing with the hand-on Nativity set, being sure to include Captain America.  Kyle has adopted a new diversion: find two of the same book (don't ask me why we have multiple copies) or similar copies (such as two Babars, pictured above); he'll sort of read both at the same time (from memory).  A cute variation of this game is when he gives me a copy to really read, whilst he follows along and repeats after me--his language is getting so great! And then we have poor sicky: Bryce.  The boy with the iron constitution fell to the curse of the black lung.  He coughed so much that he threw up multiple times, and throughout the missed school and mom-mandated rest til your bored to tears, he always (and I mean always) had the best of attitudes.  No whining, no complaining, no fussing, no milking it. Although I wish he hadn't gotten sick, it was such a wonderful part of his character to observe--we were so proud of him!  And when he was finally well enough to tackle his homework, he attacked with enthusiasm and drive.  What a good buddy.

Big & Little

Bryce is so great with Sean.  He get the biggest smiles and arm waves of anyone.  

Mommy & Me

The oldest, and the youngest.
I was going for a mom with all the kids shot. But I'll take what I can get! There was a pretty good one of Kyle, Sean and me . . . until closer inspection revealed, "oh that's when Sean spit up".
Next time.

Family of Six

Sean (1 day shy of 5 weeks!), Phil (2 days shy of 38!), Deacon (5 1/2), Lauren (33), Bryce (7 exactly!!), Kyle (3)

Kelly made a New Year's resolution to a family photo each month, and I thought it was a great idea, and resolved to someday make the same resolution!  So far we have one for August (at the hospital, and it was a gem of me, so I'm not sharing), and now one for September!

August 27-First Day of School-First Family of 6 Carride

School began for Bryce (first grade with Mrs. McIvor) and Deacon (preschool with Mrs. Rust) way back on Monday, August 27th. The boys are loving being back at school.
 Last Friday night was Back to School night, and the first time Bryce got to have a hot lunch at school (Fridays are typically order from a fast food restaurant days). After school Bryce told me, "That roast beef sandwich was awesome". Not even with an exclamation point, but a solid carved in stone very-important fact that should be noted, and repeated. He continued, "I got potato bites and two cookies". Pretty much his best lunch ever.
Speaking of lunch: Phil has convinced this child that butterscotch pudding is better than chocolate--so in his school lunches each day he gets the butterscotch pudding, and Deacon eats a chocolate pudding at home each day, and Kyle refuses to eat any pudding products. I limit myself to licking the chocolate pudding lid--such self control.

And speaking of that first car ride, I attached a noisy buttony toy to the side of Sean's carseat that's nearest to Kyle, so that Kyle has something other than Sean to poke.  So far, so good.

Sylvester

We're teaching Sean to enjoy Loony Tunes right from the get-go. Such good parents. Kyle usually likes to sit with the big boys, but tonight he cozied up in the glider (that I need to recover). That is the best chair ever, by the way. I sort of wish I'd captured the state that is our bedroom. Two weeks ago one of the bookshelves collapsed against the sleigh-bed headboard. And now I have an amazing stack of boxed books tucked in a corner--it looks like the start of a Hoarders episode. Rather than dash out for another cheapo shelving unit, I'm hoping that once Phil's shop is complete, I can tack up a honey-do list with "beautiful Norm Abram proud book shelves" as the primo chore.

Enjoy it. Part 2

During the pregnancy, and then later at the hospital tour, and even later at check in, we were asked a number of times what our birth plan was. Trying not to laugh we answered always with a smile as we'd say something along the lines of: "A healthy baby", "You guys are the experts, that's why we're here." "The plan is do whatever you tell us". Then I would always add: "But . . . I'd like to labor at home for a long while, almost until transition. I'd like to try not to have an epidural, but will get one if it looks like it's needed". (The truth was, we'd never heard anything negative about our hospital's birth center or nurses, and we'd chosen our ob for a reason . . . and as it happened he was on call for our birth--perfection.) So, those two things that I [thought that I] was holding so loosely in my hands were joyfully dropped from my palm within three hours of the water breaking. Wives all know that their husbands want to carry burdens for them and Phil had anticipated that watching me work through pain would be hard for him, as he was limited to just offering comfort and encouragement (he's really more of a "let me carry that suitcase for you" kind of guy verses a "let's each take handle" man). After returning to the labor bed from the bathroom, I planned on some jacuzzi time, and then realized that Phil's encouragement that, 'if I wanted one, I should have an epidural', was now becoming a very bright light to me. Knowing that he wouldn't think I was failing, if I got one made me consider it. Then I was decided: "You can turn off the bath" I grimaced to Phil, "I'm getting the epidural". He smiled that I had to enjoy it, guilt free. Enjoy it. Inside I felt like such a big-talking wimp. I sort of nodded to him, caught in the grips of another back to backer; thinking he was just saying that to be nice. The epidural people arrived, and I got situated on the side of the bed, ready to cat-arch my back and hold really still--wondering if I was going to sneeze and end up causing nerve damage and giving myself a permanent nervous tick. In the midst of the epidural pressure I lost grip, sobbing (Phil says I just cried) at the unexpected pressure. I was rescued from my sobs by Acacia as she coached me unendingly through my fear, that pressure, and continued contractions. She had lovely kind eyes, and I studied them as I focused on her face, trying to make all the pain productive and think open thoughts. A lot of the imagery I'd read about during my pregnancy described the mental picture of a flower opening; somehow I got the cartoon episode from the Magic School Bus: Plants a Seed stuck in my head, so with each contraction I'd been thinking "open" but visually watching Arnold and Ms. Frizzle in the garden--which of course cracked me up during those rest periods. The epidural was administered by a student anesthestitist, who was full of that perfect balance of friendliness and confidence that put me at ease. I could hear him discussing the procedure with his supervisor and thought to myself, Just get it done! You'll do great! Get a move on! The relief wasn't instantaneous, and I felt caught off guard when I was situated in bed another contraction came. But Acacia was right there with her eyes for me to laser in on, and her encouragement to be relaxed like butter--you know, one my favorite food groups so I knew all about it. As I had contractions and realized that the edge was gone, Phil reminded me to enjoy it (I think he knew the guilt was almost but not quite all gone). I've been at more than my share of home births, and know that it is fully possible to labor with control with just trust in your body and God's wonderful design. I had wanted one of those hospital births that is almost a home birth, and yet, here I was reclining on each side in turn, with monitors, and straps, and beeps, and needles, and a huge sense of being in control and even huger feelings of being at peace. Phil was right, it was good to enjoy it.

Just add a peanut!

Part 2 is elusive. I'm so awed by our little baby that it's actual difficult to channel the events of 60+ hours ago. It will come . . . but first . . . here is tonight's viewing of Top Shot. Made a little cuter by McMurray male #5.

Green Machine & Grace

Today Kyle was pleased as punch to stay by my side indoors, which meant that Bryce and Deacon could play on the gravel driveway. If Kyle's outside with them it's just too much to keep him off the gravel and not so safe to try to navigate around his toddling. So the sans-Kyle gravel playland was a big hit. Being fearless, speed seekers like their father, they determined that racing down was the most fun. Bryce rode the Green Machine bike, and Deacon rode his Hotwheels. At some point (I wasn't watching--that's the joy of having 5 and 6 year olds, they are pretty self-reliant and tattle just the right amount to make it so you don't have to keep close-close tabs) . . . anyway, at some point Bryce was overcome with generosity and let Deacon have a go on his Green Machine. Deacon thought that the go should last longer than Bryce thought. Alas, Bryce wrestled his little brother off the Green Machine, and inadvertently walloped said brother on the head with a scooter. Deacon--who is no pansy--came shrieking inside. I was somehow dubious that Bryce had manfully hoisted a scooter with intent to make contact with a skull. Bryce maintained that as he dragged Deacon off the Green Machine the scooter slipped in somehow. Anyhow,I determined that since the Green Machine was a gift from their cousin, Colton, (let's take a moment to thank Colton's Grandma Sandy for the bike), Bryce should be a little more willing to share. And so therefore he needed to take a break from it until after naptime. Well this whole instance happened before lunch. Naptime loomed precariously into the far reaches of the future, and Bryce was beyond dismayed, but not without his memory. Minutes later, with a smiling great attitude, he approached me for some lobbying in sheep's clothing. "Mom, remember when I was really little, like four years old". I replied affirmatively, but was utterly captivated by the progress I was making with the dishes. "So Mom, when I was really, really little I hit Deacon the head with a rock. I was throwing rocks up the air and one just hit him -smack- on the noggin". So now he has my attention, Deacon is near me. Kyle is near me. I start to wonder if he's carefully easing me in to the fact that their cat outside with rock injury. Now Bryce has my attention, completely. "Well, Mom, when I smacked Deacon with the rock Dad didn't give me swats or anything." Then, with utmost finality, Bryce finished: "Dad talked to me and showed me grace". Completely missing the connection, I said something like, "Yeah, Dad showed you mercy by not giving you swats. . ." [Inside I'm thinking, where is this going?] "Yes," says a very patient Bryce, "so what do you think about letting me ride that Green Machine not on the gravel??" Ahh, we're raising an attorney.

Biking on the deck

So Bryce is pretty much the most helpfulest big brother ever. I pushed Kyle around, Phil pushed Kyle around, and Bryce thought it looked like so much fun that he offered to do the pushing . . . and didn't really want to stop for a photo op. Kyle loved it. Deacon rode a bit, then made a trap for the cats or a house for the cats . . . it's hard to tell sometimes.

Sailboat and Sailors

Rest time project. We moved a cute red shelf into Bryce's and Deacon's room, and now during rest time Bryce is known to whip up some crafts. I think this was inspired by the Dawn Treader.

Running in a rainstorm

 My lightening rods are the cutest.

Animal Slap Jack vs. Animal Books

 

Whilst the big boys play Slap Jack with a super fun pack of cards that have animals featured for the royalty (what's super fun is they get slap all the animals, not just Knaves), the little boy reads his favorite animal books (from Aunt Jo Ann).

Magic Hike

Pictured is the fort that Bryce and Deacon made with Granddaddy on their Magic Hike yesterday. Idler's Rest is sort of magical with all those cedars shadowing the forest floor, and the fallen trees to scamper over, and how it sort of seems pristine even though all the paths are well managed and there are benches . . . apparently as they tucked in to their lunch the wind began to make the trees cricket and Granddaddy explained the noise as dragons. And very soon all their five and six year old bravery was used up, and lunch was finished at home. They boys loved it. It was all they could talk about. Idler's Rest is one of those spots that always makes me lament again, that the only downside to Palouse living is the trade off we make for rolling hills over trees.

Last September . . .

 

Tonight my dad emailed me a photo of the two of us from earlier tonight . . . just before I took him out for a Happy Father's Day dinner. While I was being critical of my pregnant self, I decided to peruse photos from last summer. You know, to compare how different I look now (not running) to then (running every day). I was ripped from my fruitless waste of time by this adorable photo. Bryce and Deacon, hugging each other just before we left for their baptism. You can see Bryce clutching a wipey in his hand, so I know we were just seconds from leaving. These boys are so amazing. So special. So fun. We just love them to pieces.

Rock Trio

 

4pm is the magic hour of getting Grandpa time. Rock n' roll music, hikes, pig feeding, bug catching, movies, games, cinnamon candies . . . you never know what fun will befall them. It's not everyday, but it makes the days that it happens the best. Kyle's jumped in when drums are involved. He's self-taught, eschewing drum-norms for his inborn talent of giving the cymbals a little more air time then they're usually due. Deacon came racing upstairs when he realized that the drums and guitar equaled a rock n' roll band. He had me find sunglasses for everyone (so glad Daddy had bought some), and when I failed to supply an appropriate hat he found a hard hat that sufficed. Oh, how they all slept that night! Priceless.

Long-legged Readers

 

So I'm sort of ready for my kids to stop growing up. Sometimes they seem so small . . . like today when Grandpa, Deacon, Kyle, and I were watching Bryce at bat during Baseball Camp. Bryce's batting helmet squished his cheeks together and he wasn't sure of himself, and he seemed so small and especially cuddly. But then much later today, as I was prepping dinner or doing the dishes--something kitcheny--I glanced over and caught Bryce reading a new book to Deacon. (I still can't believe that magic Mrs. Sawyer works over on her kindergarteners.) Bryce was there on the carpet, sounding out words, and reading captivating-ly enough to secure Deacon's undivided attention. I mean it. I probably could have switched on the old KitchenAid and no one would have come running. Today, their legs seems so long, and they seemed so big, and Kyle was aching to be big along side them (see his little bum in the air . . . eventually he settled for sitting near them). Every time Grandma Greta visits she does two things that she happened to do with me when I was little. She stands back to back with each boy in front of the floor length mirror, and tells them how much they've grown, and says that they'll soon be taller than her. They love it. Then, when they're all reading books together or sitting at the table doing crafts, she lines up, in turn, each boy's hand with her own and points out how long his fingers are getting, how big and strong his hands are becoming. And each boy eats it up. And now, Bryce reads at least one book to her, and she tells him how big his is getting, and how good a reader he is. And I have to say, I'm not ready.