This morning I walked Evan out to Shaun’s car in my pink bathrobe, then I rolled the trash to the road.  It was cool and crisp, and when I headed back up toward the house the sun was rising from behind it, making it only a silhouette against the starburst of orange rays.  Chickens were bawking from somewhere nearby, and it seemed so very fall in that moment, with Charlie trotting briskly beside me.  But that all changed, of course, when we got in the car and the kids wanted to hear Jimmy Buffett for the 5th morning this week.  I would have no problem with that- I love summer year-round, and I love Jimmy Buffett (how do you think they know about him)- except that Jack loves The Volcano Song.

And ONLY The Volcano Song. 

It’s one of those avenues he uses to show us all JUST how strong-willed he is. 

After listening to I don’t know- I don’t know- I don’t know where ima-gonna go when the vol-ca-no blows 500 times this morning, Madalyn politely asked to hear The Cheeseburger Song. 

Sure.  No problem.  (Except, of course, that you won’t be able to HEAR it over your brother’s blood-curdling protests.)  And our poor car-pooling friend that had to witness the fury… 

Really, Jack?  Really?  Over THIS? 

But their song choices are fitting this season of life.  Right now, Madalyn has the disposition of a cheeseburger in paradise, not too particular, not too precise- and Jack is an unpredictable volcano, ever-ready to erupt.  I should be the one singing “I don’t know where ima gonna go when the volcano blows.”  Okay, but to his credit, he’s getting a little better, choosing his battles.  (Why The Volcano Song was one of choice, I’m not sure.)  But  after drop-off he asked to go to Gracie’s house, and to the store, and was told no to both.  Instead of making me suffer, though, he gave a very emphatic, OH, MAAAN!  But I will take that ANYDAY to my bleeding ears.  Ear-bleeds for 18 months is enough to make anyone crazy… SO crazy, in fact, that that person might decide to have another child and add to the madness.  (I mean, does it really matter at this point?)  I say that with a smile, not pessimism; with a crazy, foaming, shaking, drooling smile.

Labels: autumn, beach, dumbhead parenting, humor, Jack, Madalyn, making music, phases

Okay, look.  I know this might be the most BORING post you've ever read (or skimmed... or just closed altogether,) but this is for me.  This is me archiving the pieces of paper that have sat in my office for an entire year, collecting dust and fading.  This is only one one-thousandth of the papers that circulate around my car, house, and Evan's desk in one year.  These are my favorites that have now been put into a Tupperware container.  So, if you're a better friend than I deserve, humor me and let's enter the gallery-

This is the cast of The Little Mermaid, by Evan.  (I guess I should preface this by saying ALL of these were completely done on his own without prompting.  He spends much of his quiet times "creating.")

This is the cast of Peter Pan.  These were both done about a year ago, actually. 

This is a beach scene.  His babysitter drew something similar and he copied her really well.  He copied her over and over again, actually, until he had it perfectly matched.

Fruit Salad, by Evan

The United States, by Evan

Evan, Madalyn, and Jack, by Evan

And then it was really weird to start finding papers with writing on them all over the house:

Days of the week.

"Vanilla, Pink Ice Cream, Chocolate"

"Sun, Spider web, Grass, Sky."

Months of the Year.

Shapes of the states of our country.      

Clocks.  When he taught himself how to tell time.  I think he might be bored in K-5 as this is the lesson on page 90 in his math book... he gets this hunger to learn from his father, by the way.  I remember my dad taking the clock off the wall where we lived in Augusta, GA, and I wanted to run and hide under my bed.  I remember thinking, 'okay, I almost get this, I am close, I can feel it... but I ain't there yet...'       

Pictures of him with his siblings and how much they love each other is a favorite topic of his...

He even made a catechism book:

"God loves me.  God loves all of the people."

"Adam and Eve both..."  I can't make out the rest, I think it was something about listening (or not listening) to God.  Then the pink paper: "I love God, do you?"

"God made the whole world."

When we got back from Universal Studios last December, I found the following papers in his room.  Let's play a game, try to guess what they say.  I'll give you a hint- they are activities or rides we did at Universal, we'll start with the easier ones:

1 2 

3     4

5 6 

7 8

9

1) Shrek4D 2)ET 3)Lunch 4)Cat in the Hat 5)Barney and Evan (character sighting) 6) Carousel 7) Sponge Bob 8) Water Ride 9) Dinner

This explained to me why he pronounced things the way he did.

Now the papers I find around the house look more like this:

"Please, I really, really, really can cook!  Just trust me!"

And the drawings I find are lately of Spongebob characters like Patrick here:

And he draws a mean Sponge Bob, I can't believe I forgot to take a Sponge Bob picture.

He also makes lots of charts and maps and such (I'm not always sure what they are):

My best guess on this would be a map.  To church or school?  Or maybe Jerusalem... from the temple to the cross...

This is definitely a recipe.  Although I'm not sure what the color code is about, I will have to ask him.

This is most likely a board game.

This is a sequence of events of how he wants his day to unfold after school, he wants friends to get in the car and come over.

Okay, I know, you need an intermission if you're still with me... we're winding down now... I'm to the end of the year papers...

This is what Madalyn brought home the last day of Mom's Morning Out last year.

Evan's teachers made him a whole year book... these are the teachers from the post below.

Yep... somebody needed a haircut.  What?  It grows REALLY fast, don't look at me like that.

His teacher made that quilt and prayed over her students while she worked on it.  :(  So sweet.

All the kids had fun signing their autographs in each other's books. :)

This is a sample of what his homework assignments looked like.

This is what they looked like when we lost the official paper and I made my own lines for him.  I got an N in handwriting in first grade and thought I was going to die.  I haven't improved much since then, so why on earth would you think I could draw a straight line?

See how he wrote "bumblebee?"  I'm not sure if this means he's Dyslexic or just really bright?  Don't answer that.

His teacher gave his picture a caption after asking him what the dots were on this assignment.

He liked to make notes for all his classmates.  They all did this and left notes in cubbies.  They thought they were sooooo cool.

On the first day of school last year he told me about a boy who has lots of dots on his face.  I told him those were freckles.  You can imagine that I nearly died when I walked into his room after his quiet time and found pictures of every classmate... and Brett.  Complete with freckles.

We were also all forced to comply to a behavior chart at home, just as he was at school.  He made this completely by himself.

I had no idea he had become a redhead by the end of last school year.  He changes completely... goes from dark hair and light skin to light hair and dark skin every summer.  Don't worry, I didn't pay MONEY for these.  I just stole the proofs.  Wow, that is SO unethical of a photographer.  But, they didn't ask me for them, so whatever.  I'm KEEPING THEM.

And hers.

Her coloring has come a REALLY long way... even further this summer but I didn't take any pics of her recent stuff.  She is very into the details, and using many colors, and staying inside the lines now.  I LOVE watching her color, and her patience that has come with it.

Evan's coloring has come a long way, too.  But Madalyn about has him beat out now with staying inside the lines.  I'm just happy they can do that at all considering I am so fine-motor-challenged.

Madalyn would come home with a paper like this,

or this...

or this...

Or this.  And I would be all 'you know how to do this??'  Because she SO wouldn't act able if I were the one showing her.  That's why it's good someone else is.  Then we can just play and be silly together.  It's better that way.  (Don't you like her mini-pattern on the pattern... I was amused by that.)

This was my favorite thing she brought home all year.  I don't know why.  Maybe because she doesn't know any Joshua's and I have no idea where she got that name.  Or maybe it's her drawing of the giraffe.  Or that she said a giraffe was most decidedly her favorite animal.  I don't know.  I just like it.

She brought home this cross she had made during free coloring time.  I thought the sticker choice was very appropriate to the picture.

And she has her name down pretty well.  Sometimes she writes it perfectly, sometimes she leaves out the "l".  Why she leaves the easiest letter out, I have no idea.  I think it's cute she started writing it by herself next to the one she was asked to trace... she decided to go above and beyond, take the extra mile.  That's encouraging... considering a year ago she spent all of clean-up time in time-out for not cleaning.

But almost better than the actual work they brought home, were the cards and handmade gifts:

It kind of surprised me about myself to find out that I could tear up over something the teacher printed out that my child never actually thought or said... what in the ??? 

But even better than the ones that come home from school, are the ones that come from their bedroom, without prompting:

Evan drew this of Jack and wrote the words.  I found it later and said, "who is this a picture of?" 

"Jack."

A placemat Evan made me, all on his own.  He made one for everyone in the family.

Shew!  If you got this far, you are SOME kind of wonderful.  Thanks for hanging in there with me, doing life with me.  Thanks for visiting the McDonnell Art Gallery.  Now, take a few deep breaths and move along to another blog... and I assure you, you don't have to do the art work again for another year.

Labels: bittersweet, Evan, kids art, Madalyn, milestones, nostalgia, phases, pics, school, school work

Dear Jack- I love you, but I am SO TIRED of picking poop out of crib spindles with Clorox wipes and washing your sheets twice a day in Oxi-clean.  The spankings and time-outs haven't worked.  You take that diaper off as fast as I can say trouble.  You are as impulsive as a... a... well, as your father. 

Someone suggested putting your sleepers on backwards but none of them are button-ups. 

Someone else suggested masking tape, and another, positive reinforcement with candy.  Seeing as how we don't have any candy around today, nor a car to go get some (one's in the shop,) and seeing as how things hit an all time high on the mess factor around here, I opted for the masking tape just last nap time. 

By the time I was finished winding it around your middle, you were staring at me with a quizzical expression.  It looked like I was putting you into your crib in a chastity belt. Or a Sumo wrestling diaper. 

Whatever it takes, I shrugged, and stood back to admire my work.

Try to take that diaper off now, buddy boy, I said, and you smiled as if you were up for the challenge.

Weh-heh-hellll........................ naptime is long over and GUESS- WHO- WON, my friend?! I did!  That's who!

I cannot TELL YOU the excitement, the adrenaline that ran through my veins when I found you shirtless, yes, but still all taped up after naptime and- GASP- with DRY sheets.  I praised you, too, (as if you hadn't tried to rip the thing off with your all of 8 teeth) but left it on by choice, gave you a handful of animal crackers to gnaw on while I went to work cutting the thang off with scissors. 

I told myself not to get too excited.  This wouldn't, in fact, solve all of the destructive behaviors going on around here.  Like the one that occurred just yesterday afternoon when you brought me the small silver decorative box with velvet inlay from our sideboard in the dining room. 

Poop, you said. 

I opened the box.  Yesss.  Poop, indeed.  Sitting on dark blue velvet like a delicacy or rare jewel.  However did that get in there and let me see your hands...

Maybe I should just tape a training pot to your tush. 

Well, then I might as well glue a bib to your chest, and the dog food to dog food bowl, and the Doritios to the top shelf of the pantry while I'm at it.  That would minimize the messes by about a third?  Maybe?

But how oh how shall I keep your father from leaving out his half-full  Dr. Pepper cans?  Maybe we could just get something that would feed it to him intravenously, like an IV bag. 

I better go Google that...

Sleep Tight, my Angel- (and I know you will because you're swaddled in masking tape)-

Mommy  

Labels: boys will be boys, dumbhead parenting, here comes trouble, Jack, Katie, letter, milestones, phases, pics

I love Summer.  Summer tans, like hers.  Summer mornings, and days, and afternoons, and evenings... like right now.

Jack and I are having appetizers; Triscuits with Muenster cheese and OJ on Ice (mine may or may not have a splash of Amaretto in it.)  The older kids are washing the dog in the shower.  Shaun has to work late, but eh, it's summer.  We'll eat cereal or sandwiches... or Triscuits with Muenster cheese.

And then there's the summer weekend mornings like this one, where the kids climb in bed with us to cuddle, and crisp summer light greets us.  (I love how you can see the word "dream" on the back of Shaun's shirt in the first picture up above.)

It is just so nice to have hardly a schedule at all, to sit with the kids while having your coffee, to do "summer" things like play in the mud puddles and go to swim school.

And let's chat a minute about swim school, shall we?  Evan is in the highest class of those tested, Madalyn in the next level down, and Jack had one-on-one lessons.  I think these lessons back-fired because now Jack LOVES to swim and both he and Charlie (the twins) jump at me simultaneously in the pool.  I literally CANNOT turn my back to watch E or M perform a dive, or there are two bobbing, clawing, flailing bodies soon next to me and thirsty for air. 

Evan was disappointed that swim class was not about showing off his tricks.  Madalyn was disappointed that swim class was not a chat room.  Madalyn ALMOST got her side breaths down, Evan ALMOST got his back stroke down... but they both learned new things and- eventually- learned to follow routine and not swim upstream. 

Still, they had their moments right up to the end of talking over the lane ropes while they waited for their turns, and swimming under them, giggling, and going back to their lane again.  It's hard to be mad when they love being together so much.  When Evan got to wear his flippers for the first time he yelled at the top of his lungs down the ENTIRE length of an Olympic sized pool, "MA-DA-LYN!  I've got FLIPPERS ON!  FLIPPERS!  LOOK!  MADALYN!  MA-DA-LYN!  FLIPPERS!  SEE??  I'M WEARING FLIPPERS!"  His swim teacher was gently gliding the kick board and trying to get him to turn around and do the exercise, but it was no use, he had an entire leg in the air and was waving it frantically toward his sister who was a half a mile away and talking the EAR off her own swim teacher. 

"FLIIIII-PEEEERS!"

Today was the final day of swim class.  This meant they FINALLY got to climb up that high dive they've been eye-balling for the past two weeks.  Evan did the whole thing in a cautious, OCD manner; in an I have set my mind on it, I WILL go through with it, but I could quite possibly wet myself along the way.  Madalyn, on the other hand, (you totally know where this is going, don't you...)

Madalyn could not get off the board fast enough.  Her red polka dot bikini a-flappin' in the air the whole several yards down.  It is HIGH.  I was a little worried about them falling off onto the concrete before getting to the end of it.  Every mom within hearing range asked me one after another, "Now how old is she?"  The older swim class students standing around waiting for the little tykes to get off their boards already were oooing and ahhhing, too.  Look!  Look at that little tiny girl!  I wouldn't have done that at that age.  Look at her!  Even the swim teachers were lifting their shades and sharing knowing looks of amusement.   

The other great thing about swim class, other than an activity in and of itself, is that I think I might have picked up two new babysitters.  Jack's teacher was SO sweet to him and they fell totally in love with each other.  He would point out all the bugs in the pool drain- "I see a bug!  You see da bug?"  and tell her "I tired of kicking," and rest his head on her shoulder. And SHE rubbed his back so tenderly, God love her.

But as short and wonderful a summer as it has been, every now and then, I am feeling that fall itch. 

Well, only in moments like this, really.  When a few hours after she cuddled so innocently, I find her letters permanently monogramming the side of my bed, on my brand spankin' new sheets.

Wasn't too bright of her to SIGN HER NAME in the felony. It's that same senseless quality that makes her such a daredevil on the high dive.

But maybe she knew exactly what she was doing.  After all, I do think of her every time I go to bed, and every time I rise.  And surprisingly, they are thoughts accompanied with a smile and fond feelings.  Feelings that make me want to smother her chlorinated hair with kisses, God love her. 

Labels: adventures in sports, Evan, here comes trouble, Jack, Madalyn, phases, pics, pictures, summer

Well, either he's brave, or just plain senseless, (and you know which one we're all leaning towards,) but he DOES resemble William Wallace from the movie, does he not?

Can you guess what he gone and done?

No, not a sunburn.

Lipstick, that's right.  You're good. 

From my makeup drawer.

Have I mentioned that he likes my makeup drawer?    

Not an ounce of remorse, tsk, tsk...  ohhhhhhhh, there would've been remorse alright if I'd known then (when I took these pictures,) what I know now... which is that he didn't leave this artwork to the porch, but also on my bedspread, my shower door, my closet wall, and the bedroom carpet.  You know how they say lipstick is one of those things you can't get out?  One of those true stains?  Well, "they" are telling the truth.

That poor bed of ours has had quite a week.  More on that another day.

Labels: boys will be boys, dumbhead parenting, here comes trouble, humor, Jack, parenthood, parenting, phases, pics, pictures

Doo, doo, doo, doodoo, doo, doo, doo-

Today was the first day I haven't worked in I think about, oh, a year and a half.  Yes, that sounds accurate.  And we made the most of it.  We were going to play with all our new bubble contraptions and swim but it rained and poured and looked like 8pm all day outside, so instead we switched gears and had a baking day.  We made Kentucky Butter Cake, Banana Bread, and Pimento Cheese.  I cooked more today than I have in... oh, about a year and a half. 

Yes, that sounds accurate.

I also did laundry.  And cleaned up pee.  And played Barbie Dolls. 

My mom found Madalyn a photographer Barbie, complete with three children, a camera, and backdrops.  So basically, I did work today.  Only I photographed 3 inch plastic babies with a fake 1/2 inch camera and there are no pictures to edit.

Shaun's boss is sick in the hospital and he has taken on a heavy workload which means late nights, so the kids and I had a light dinner followed by Kentucky Butter Cake. Then they performed a complete Cinderella production for me in the living room. Charlie and I sat on a pillow and clapped like it was the most impressive acting we'd ever seen.  (Well I clapped, and he gnawed at my hands thinking it was a game meant for him,) but even with the gnawing, it's nice to have the warmth of a dog in your lap, like sitting by a warm fire.  Makes a house a home.

Then we read books in bed while Charlie barked because he wanted to be ON the bed right there with us.  He couldn't believe we wouldn't include him in the reading of The Best Nest, (it's his favorite.)  And it was such a perfect little evening.  We were the perfect family for a few hours.  But soon it was time for lights out, for Evan to go to his own room to sleep... for all hell to break loose... 

He and Madalyn have been sleeping in her bed together ALL summer.  It's exciting, you know, like Christmas Eve.  Well, I didn't want them to get too used to it (lest they forget how to sleep alone,) so last night I said they needed to have a night in their own beds.  Evan got all genius-manipulative on me, (as you've heard me lament about before.)  He asked me if I wanted him to be happy or mad because my decision would dictate his behavior and I had the power to make him happy... to which I replied: I don't care what you are so long as you obey me. 

But he kept at it and cried himself to sleep.  (That was last night.)

Tonight it was the same song, second verse.  He was "crying himself to sleep" when I took the dog out for his nightly romp in the grass.  It was dark and misty (rainy day here, remember,) and it was kind of an eery night.  About the time this observation registered in my mind, a sharp finger poked me in the back like a knife.  I turned abruptly to see Evan standing there, ready to go at it again.

Come on buddy, les go!  BRING IT!  (My brain has to put on her boxing gloves and jump back and forth, right and left, to get warmed up for the fight ahead or else I lose all cool and resort to "because I said so," which, for the record, I find nothing wrong with, but I feel like I have to get these moments with him mastered now or else high school is going to be something freaky for us all.)  EX-HALE....

"You scared me!  What are you doing out of your bed?  You're in trouble."  (I'm very good at stating the obvious.)

"Do you want me to cry all night?  See, it's going to be like last night.  I told you.  You just need to let me go in Madalyn's room and I will be so good you won't believe it.  I'm scared.  I'm alone."

"No.  Absolutely not.  You are not the parent.  You do not set the rules.  You are trying to parent me and you are out of line."  (I am reminding myself of this just as much as him... a pep talk, an I think I can, I think I can parenting moment.)

"Fine!  That's it.  Fine, because you know what I'm gonna do,"  (stomping to his room in front of me,) "I'm just going to throw a penny in the wishing well and wish you were a kid."  I hate for it to come to this, but you leave me no other choice.

"That's fine, Evan," I said casually, and letting down my guard knowing I was now winning the battle.

"Fine?  Why is that fine?"

"Because wishing wells aren't real."

"They're not?  Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"What about the one at the mall with all the pennies."

"Not real.  Just pretend."

"It is?"

"Yep."

(BIG SIGH OF EXASPERATION.)

"Well, I will not go to bed nicely till you let me sleep in Madalyn's room."

"Well, then you will never sleep in Madalyn's room again."

"I won't?"

"No.  Not until you can go to bed by yourself, nicely."

"I think I am SO ANGRY."

"That's okay.  You can be angry, but you can't be disrespectful.  You can be angry, but you have to obey me."

And then I tucked him into bed, hugged his tear-stained face and body while he sobbed and tried to catch his breath like a defeated solider who had fought long and hard.

It's hard to be angry with him when I hear myself in the whole conversation, a rebellious child refusing to listen to her Father.  It's also hard to be mad when every time I think of the wishing well statement, I suppress a laugh.  I am smiling right now as I type this, and I was laughing at it when I sat down to write this post:  Fine!  That's it.  Fine, I'm just going to throw a penny in the wishing well and wish you were a kid.  Because that WOULD END THIS THING- AND YOU FORGOT ABOUT THE WISHING WELL- I WIN- HOO-AH!

And wouldn't that be nice, indeed?  There are certainly people I've encountered who I would love to wish away on a penny.  One in particular right now.  Where do we humans get SUCH a sense of entitlement?  Could you answer that for me? 

Just that one question... and I will be so good you won't believe it...

Labels: conversation, dumbhead parenting, Evan, parenthood, parenting, phases, siblings

This was taken on New Year's Eve on our way to a birthday party for a stuffed animal. (She looks SO much like Shaun's sister, Kelly, in this picture that it's downright freaky.)

After the aforementioned party, we stopped by the grocery store so I could run in for a few things. Evan had a near melt-down in the car while I was gone, worrying about what dreadful and unknown thing might happen to me. (I'm not sure if I've told you about this phase yet... the "aware of the reality of evil in the world" stage. NOT my favorite of the phases, suffice it to say.) And when I get back, he's all, "I thought something was gonna happen to you... I thought a bad guy was gonna get you... what would you do if a bad guy tried to get you, mommy?" Not at ALL disconcerting coming out of the mouth of your just-turned five-year-old.

Usually, I try to tell him that Jesus is with me and I can call on His help whenever I need Him... or that he needs to choose not to think about these bad thoughts; to fix his mind on whatever is "good and pure," (as we mothers tell ourselves quite often.) But after a few months of this phase, I decided a fresh approach was in order that night. Enough of the niceties. Enough of the "think of a happy place" talks.

"Evan, you don't have to worry about me. Mommy is TOUGH. I could SO beat up any bad guy I wanted to. I'm strong."

"What would you do to them?"

"I would hit them and punch them and bite and poke and scratch and throw them on the ground."

"Then would you run away?"

"I wouldn't have to run away. They'd be sooo hurt they wouldn't be able to get off the ground."

"Would they be dead?"

"I don't know, what do you think?"

"I think they'd be dead. And then the police would come and put them in jail."

Now we were getting somewhere. (We didn't bother to explain that there isn't a huge pile of criminal corpses piling up in the county jail, that was beside the point.)

"I would beat them up, too, mommy," he said.

"Sure, you could beat them up," Shaun said.

"And me, too!" squealed Madalyn, not at all worried, but thrilled with the hypothetical opportunity to pound on someone.

"I would poke them in the eye," Evan said.

"That's a great thing to do," I said, before giving him a few more ideas of how to lethally attack a person.

"I would poke their eyes out," squealed Madalyn, "I would cut their hands off and throw them in the trash can!" she said, now on a roll.

Shaun and I bulged our eyes at each other while "calmly" agreeing sure, why not, but simultanesouly thinking, 'how long before this one's on medication?'

The next morning, Madalyn and Evan colored in his room for awhile. Then, she presented me with this picture:

I said, "Oh good job, is this Veggie Tales or something?"

"No, this is mommy beating up the bad guys." Here is a diagram as it was explained to me:

Labels: dumbhead parenting, Madalyn, phases