Pee in the Park

Yesterday my son peed in a park sandbox with four girls in it and two more nearby.  That was after sand was flung, and he started wailing about an eyeful of sand from Vivian.  I made the kids leave the park.  My friend has one child (who is female and got an unanticipated view of my son's private area), and she asked me if I ever marvel at the things that I didn't think to say NOT to do.  I fervently agreed and said that most recently it never occurred to me to say, "Now kids, should you ever find a dead animal, don't hold it and pet it."  Olivia ran to me one morning to explain that all three of the little ones, one of whom should have certainly known better, they were cuddling and petting a dead chipmunk missing some of its middle.  Yuck!!!  What in the world were they thinking?  Gross.

Evelyn is my lover of the great outdoors.  We planted a little $2.99 grocery store tomato plant near our new patio as an experiment.  In our last house we never got tomato plants to produce.  This plant grew into a tomato jungle.  Henry even stepped on part of it early in the season and snapped a vine to the ground.  It didn't matter.  The plant took over the whole area, and it spread almost all the way across the sidewalk.  Evelyn goes out there, peeks around, and brings in gorgeous big tomatoes.  We have really enjoyed them.  I just wish I had used a cage to maintain some order.

Little Vivian is a mud magnet.  Areas of our yard are without grass, and Robbie is trying to get grass seed to germinate.  He keeps it watered, and the messes Vivian makes are astounding.  She migrates to those areas and cakes clods of dirt on her shoes.  I gave her a butter knife and told her to scrape them clean.  I'm on the verge of teaching her to use a wet mop on the mudroom floor tile too.  That's the natural consequence of making things dirty.  We must then make them clean again.

Fully Manly

Last night we enjoyed the school carnival.  The children loved it!  They played games, bounced in inflatable obstacle courses, road a little train, got their faces painted, and ran around.  The place was packed.  In such settings I always dress my children in bright colors that will stand out from the sea of red, blue, and pink.  However, even with Vivian's yellow shirt and Henry's lime shorts, they kept getting out of sight....usually slipping out of the pony ride line to get another lollipop.  One of my funniest friends described it as the children scattering like dropped marbles.  How true.

We had a very challenging day off school, and one of the kids received warning and then follow through of the worst consequence....no carnival attendance.  It pained me to enforce this loss.  However, the level of repeated defiance, physical outbursts towards others, and back talking warranted major parental action.  Of course, we had company during all of this, so all of the dirty laundry was on display and under the microscope.  In any event, it really pained me to follow through, yet I felt no other option was available.  Parenting is so hard.  As tired as I get multiple times daily of requesting that a child complete some action...complete your kitchen crumb sweeping chore, put away the pile of clean laundry I folded, get your shoes out of the living room floor and into your cubby, put away your comb and toothbrush after you use them, hang your wet towels, etc., etc., it is my desire that one day they will see a problem and choose to solve it.  I'll keep trying to teach them the right things to do.  They will keep being kids.

On that note, Vivian is so stinking cute that I often say to her, "Will you please not grow up?  Will you please stay little forever?"  To this she replies, "Do you want me to stop eating my food so I won't grow?"  There may be subconscious reasoning to her food aversions for which I am responsible.  Henry still swears he is never marrying because the kissing grosses him out.  I don't know where we learned that phrase.  This summer he visited a cousin who gave him a little stick of deodorant since Henry liked the smell.  He told me he was almost fully manly.  "I have socks without characters, man underwear, and deodorant.  Now I only need a driver's license, a car, a cell phone, and hair on my chest...then I'll be fully manly."  Oh, honey, if only it were that simple.

Mothering is a Juggling Act

Last weekend we surprised the kids with an adventure to a big juggling show.  There were over half a dozen acts, and the performers were funny and talented.  It was set to upbeat music, and the children saw feats of balance, sword swallowing, crazy fast yoyo moves, a world touring magnetic juggler, impressive baton twirling, and a unicycle taller than a grown man.  It was really cool.  I thought about how I don't have the talent to even juggle three balls, and their skills impressed me.  At some point it hit me that I can juggle, I just don't toss bowling pins or oranges.  I juggle planning, procuring, preparing, and cleaning up hot breakfasts, sack lunches, and home cooked meals.  I keep in the air permission slips, homework help, and ballet, soccer, and cross country schedules.  I can't spend three minutes straight with flat rings balanced on my forehead as I perform blind catches behind the back with two more rings, but I balance all of the demands of life as a wife, mother, daughter, sister, volunteer, and friend with as much grace as God provides.  Often it feels as though He isn't providing enough patience for me to effectively deal with sibling rivalry or incessant mud.  Juggling is all about precision and timing.  Life is not so.   Life is about balance.  Life is about keeping first things first and enjoying the moments that make a lifetime.  My prayer is that I am ever mindful of insuring that through the busyness of life with a young family, the children are ever aware of our parental love and that of their heavenly father.  I want to teach them to be loving, kind, independent, hard working, responsible, faith filled people in this crazy world.  And...I think Robbie should teach them to juggle.

Cathedral of the Overlease Children

I am really enjoying this special time alone with Vivian.  At mass we snuggle for an hour.  Today we went to the library and returned home to cuddle up to read on a misty day.  We just baked some cookies for an after school snack for her siblings.  However, the flax and chia seed peanut butter in them may not be a hit with the kids.

Yesterday they spent a great deal of time turning our loft into a church, complete with pews, an altar, and an area for the setup of wine and bread.  They were altar servers, and Olivia taught them the details of what happens since she sees it up close regularly.  Evelyn memorized an impressive reading, and Olivia gave a homily.  They sang.  They passed a collections basket.  We received the Eucharist, which was broken bits of ice cream cone that ended up all over the kitchen floor.  Their mass was darling.  However, they were in a total uproar because I would NOT allow them to take red liquid up to the loft, which is carpeted, for wine.  I explained that some churches use white wine at mass, but they wouldn't have it.  I insisted on water.  Henry then informed me that Evelyn added red food coloring to the water!!!  That was bad news.  She thinks I only care about carpet.

Henry is almost as tall as Ev.  He had a stretch this summer where for weekends on end he almost received his First Holy Communion as a preschooler!  Visiting priests and lay Eucharistic ministers alike offered him the bread, then paused as one of us waved them off.  He loved it!  I loved that he has been praying to God and Jesus to help him earn a green behavior color at school.  It is working!!!  I told him the prayers of little children are precious to God.

The big girls had their first cross country meet of the season on a gorgeous Saturday.  They both ran really well, and we had a ball racing to various points on the course to cheer them onward.  Ev's race is 1/2 mile, and Olivia runs a mile.  Henry's soccer game conflicted with cross country, so we got a taste of the complexity of multiple children in various weekend activities.  Thank goodness for kind friends.  Next weekend will be even worse.

King of the Hen Pen and Footprints Where They Don't Belong

I recently conversed with a woman at the shoe repair shop who told me that she always called her poor only son the King of the Hen Pen.  That fits Henry perfectly with his three sisters, and I think I may use it going forward.  During morning mass, our priest, Fr. Larry, described his birth order as following two older sisters.  He asked the young children to raise their hands if they had older sisters, and he even offered to pray for those with more than a few.  It was cute and humorous.  At school the students are collecting socks for the less fortunate.  Sock It to Poverty/Crazy Sock Week almost turned into Sock One Another Over Crazy Socks in my household this morning.  We are apparently boring in the sock department, because the children do not have an abundance of options for Crazy Sock Week in which anything goes in the sock department.  One child was taunting another about wearing a certain pair of socks, and WWIII about broke out in our loft.  Ugly words were expressed to siblings, and I was most disappointed and angered.  However, our fine priest described in his homily the challenge of sharing and being patient with our siblings.  He emphasized compassion and kindness...the very points I attempted to make this morning after the sock fight.  I told Robbie that I am ever grateful for the blessing of their Catholic school and the common values that are reinforced on a daily basis.

Before I depart from the topic of feet, in my last entry I can't believe that one of Henry's most outrageous missteps of his young life escaped me.  In the spring cracked sections of our sidewalks were jackhammered and new concrete was poured by the city.  The wet areas were roped off with bright warning tape.  We walked around these squares for a few days as we traveled to and from school.  I often allow the children to run ahead once we get to a certain point in the walk.  Henry ran ahead, and that son of mine mindlessly ran smack through the wet cement in his new spring tennis shoes.  He left four foot depressions as one would imagine depicted in a cartoon.  Jane Hill was with me, and she was much more entertained by the situation than I was in that moment.  I couldn't believe it.  Henry dumbfounded me.  I honestly don't think he meant any harm.  He just wasn't paying a bit of attention to his path, and he ran straight into concrete that had not dried.  The girls shrieked and ran up the street to report the incident to the concrete worker man.  Thankfully, it only took him a few seconds to smooth the depressions.  Sometimes I think that what I can't even invent in my head, my son executes.  I am too often saying, "Son.  Can you please help me understand why it seemed like a good idea to ____?"  He just lives.  He doesn't waste too much time analyzing cause and effect or making risk assessments like his cautious old mother.  I pray for his safety and for my ability to be patient and kind and slow to anger daily.  May God not give Henry any brilliant ideas that I can't handle.  Jane always smiles and comments on his creativity.  She is a woman of great grace.

A Wonderful Life

This morning Evelyn was a 3rd grade reader for Kindergarten through fourth grade mass.  It was a complicated piece with uncommon names, Apollos and Cephus, and there were many commas requiring pauses.  She read very well.  Henry attended his very first school mass with his kindergarten class, and he was in the front row directly in front of Ev as she read.  Vivian again insisted upon wearing a plaid school uniform jumper, and I cuddled and kissed her during the whole mass.  I chatted briefly with familiar faces afterwards, then Vivian and I walked home hand in hand.  Our shadows were in front of us, and my heart swelled with love for my little gal.  I miss her now that she attends preK part of some days.  After spending the summer running all errands and buying groceries with all four children in tow, I firmly believed I would relish kid-free shopping.  On the contrary, I was incredibly lonely yesterday as I picked up items at the store.  Henry goes to school all day, and his energy seems astoundingly to be quite depleted once he returns home.  He and Vivian are TIRED and quiet.

I can't believe nearly a year has passed since I wrote.  We unexpectedly found a house near school and church, sold our little home of the last decade plus, and moved.  Things were rather busy.  I went to Europe to visit London, Paris, Berlin, and three cities in Poland with Anthony and Dad last October.  That was an experience of a lifetime, and I can't believe I received that blessing.  Last night something came up about the trip, and I explained to Evelyn how Uncle Anthony flew me there and covered astronomically priced hotels in London, Paris, and Berlin and how Grandpa Tom paid for our stay in Poland.  Ev said, "So they were very generous?  Henry would never do that for me!"  I laughed.  I also laughed after school yesterday when Vivian kindly offered to do Henry's homework for him so he could craft her a parachute out of coffee filters and thread for her "ninja" toy.  She obtained this new treasure in Branson recently.  Daddy bought us a few races on go carts at a really cool track.  The Tulsa cousins were there, and we played musical drivers as we traded kids as passengers.  It was exhilarating to race around the curves and pass our loved ones.  We yelled and had a blast.  My children have their father's love of speed, danger, and excitement when it comes to amusement park rides.  They are so short that adult riders were required to accompany them on many of the intense roller roasters.  Roller coasters terrify me in a way that I kind of enjoy.  I dread riding them, and I'm a wreck during the 90 seconds of plunges, loops, turns, and more.  Even though my mental talk during the ride is, "This was a BAD idea!!  I'm going to fly out.  I'm going to DIE!!  Never again!," somehow I keep riding new ones.  There are worse areas in which to make unsafe decisions.

Here are a few antics that come to mind regarding the children over the last months.
-When we moved into our home 3/4 of the backyard was mud.  I thought I would not survive the mess, despite the presence of a mud room.
-Henry and Vivian took almost 20 earthworms that I found while transplanting in the backyard and sprinkled them on the kitchen floor with some dirt.
-Henry exploded a bag of grout dust on the brand new hardwood floors.
-We discovered once the little two slept in their own rooms that Vivian has been the early riser who was waking Henry all those years.  We wrongly accused our son.
-I call Vivian a stealth baby because I sometimes awake in the night to find her asleep next to me.  She doesn't make a peep.  She simply crawls into our bed and ends up crowding me.  I slept with her at my mom's house, and she'd whack me in the face with her chubby hands or sleep at a diagonal with her feed in my side.  She was a mess.
-Henry learned to ride his bike over the summer.
-All the kids really took off with their swimming.  They can all dive.  The last week the pool was open Vivian jumped off the diving board and went down the water slide.

We are very thankful for the space we have in our home.  We treasure our walks to mass as a family down a pretty street with lots of shade.  We are healthy and happy, surrounded by helpful friends and a loving extended family....what a wonderful life.