The Baby Can Count!

And, she almost does it right.

One, two, three, four, five,
six, seven, eight, nine, ten,
eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, five, fourteen, FIVE!

She still can't eat spaghetti with her clothes on.

And, she'll drink her bath water, if you don't stop her.

But, she can count!!!  We'll work on that other stuff later.

Attention All Moms...and Dads, too

If you have not tried this, you must.

Two parts corn starch to one part water.  Mix.  And let the weird ooey-gooeyness begin!

It is a crumbly-like substance.

But, wait!  Now it is a drippy liquid.

And, even though it looks like a huge mess (which some how makes it seem more fun) when it dries, it just sweep right up.

Easy-peasy and hours of fun!

satruday, melancholy.

A good spring day.  The little girl's bath water turned to mud.  Her arms are brown.  I think, she'll sleep well tonight.  Now, I have a song from four lifetimes ago running on a loop through my head. 

Lonesome for a Place I Know

So here we are in Italy
With our sun hats and our dictionary.
The air is warm, the sky is bright,
Your arms are brown you're sleeping well at night.

So why does England call?
The hedgerows and the townhalls.
After all, there'll soon be nothing left at all.

If we were born outside of place and time,
To make our choice, well this would be mine.
To live and die under a sun that shines.
But something pulls, something I can't define

Tells me England calls, whatever she's done wrong.
Always calls, "This is where you belong."
And I'm lonesome for a place I know.

Oh but Florence you tempt me (here) to stay,
Amidst your hills to while my years away.
But your roots in soil lie, mine in paving stone.
And I hate what it's become, but in my bones
I'm lonesome for a place I know.

-by Everything But The Girl

Work Clothes

When you are a big boy, you get to make your own fashion decisions.

This is Sam in his Easter clothes.  Work clothes, he calls them.  And, why wouldn't he?  His daddy wears clothes like this to work.

"Look at me.  I am so handsome," he said, when trying them on for the first time.  Then he insisted on wearing them to school.  And, the park.  And, everywhere we went, all day.

Did I mention that he wore them with cowboy boots?

His sister was not impressed.  (But she insists on buttoning her cardigan all the way down, so she may not be a good judge.)  Everyone else couldn't help but be charmed.  He is charming.

Have a fashionable weekend!  

Come back next week to find out what is going on here.

Three Alarm Dinner

It's 4:30.  Do you know what your family is having for dinner?  Roast chicken?  No, still frozen solid in the back of the freezer.  Carnitas?  No, that should have gone in the crock pot six hours ago.  Frozen lasagna?  That takes two hours to cook and you only have one.  Tortilla soup?  Don't have all the ingredients.

This happens to me all the time.  I have served peanut butter and jelly, cereal, and frozen waffles for dinner.  (Not all at once.  I'm not that crazy.)  This is unacceptable, really.  I have three growing kids, and a husband who works hard all day to put food on the table.  Well, he works for the food, and the table.  Putting one on top of the other is supposed to be my job.

So, I invented the three alarm dinner.  I set an alarm to keep me on track.  Three of them actually.  I use my iPod Touch, but any phone or alarm clock will do.

10:00am     Lovely church bells ring, usually from my back pocket.  When I pull out my iPod, it gently asks me, "What's for Dinner?"  This may be a little late in the day for some of you, but any earlier and I would be too busy to hear it ring.  I stop, and make myself answer.  I look in a few cupboards.  I take something out of the freezer.  If I can fit in a quick trip to the market, I do.  Even if I have all the meals for the week scheduled (which I do about every fifth week) I need to be reminded, in case some early prep work needs to be done.  Like loading up the crock pot.

2:00pm     More lovely church bells, just checking in.  "Do you need to prep dinner?"  This comes in handy if I am baking, or roasting, something that is going to take awhile.  I chose two o'clock, because it takes three hours to make bread in my bread machine and dinner is between 5:30 and 6.

4:30pm     Chimes again.  "Make dinner."  Okay, it may say, "Make dinner, Stupid!" but the love hate, perhaps abusive, relationship I have with my iPod is a topic for another post.  This alarm has a snooze button.  Sometimes I don't need to start cooking that early, but I need to be kept aware of the time.

This  might sound nuts.  But it works!  Only once since implementation of the Three Alarm Dinner plan have my children eaten frozen burritos for dinner.  And that was just because I was making steak and there wasn't enough to go around.

There is a fourth alarm.  This is more of a WAH-WAH-WAH-WAH alarm, like you hear if there is a nuclear meltdown or you don't push the button every 108 minutes.  It rings at 5:30, and gives me the number to the nearest pizza place.

So, what is for dinner?

Big Boy

And, Samuel-palooza continues...

Sam is a big boy.  He is poop-in-the-potty big.  He is stay-dry-through-the-night big.  He is get-himself-dressed big.  (See above.)

We played the "big boy" card so often while trying to get him to do those things, that he now thinks he is make-his-own-bedtime big, drive-the-car big, run-for-President big.

Me:  No, Samuel.  You may not have that [permanent marker].  That's not for little boys.

Sam:  I am a big boy.

Me:  Not big enough.

Sam:  But, I pooped in the restaurant potty.

How can I even start to explain this to him?

Our Father...

It has been Samuel-palooza around here lately.  Yes, I have two other children, but he is giving me the best material the most colorful right now.  Read on to see.

I have been teaching the boys the Lord's prayer.  We recite it together every night before bed.  Well, parts of it are more "call and response" at this point, but they are coming along.

Jonah loves this.  He has asked me about every phrase.  He is full of questions about God's power and the nature of heaven.  What is God's kingdom?  What is God's will?  He is like a little computer: input, process, classify, sort, seek new input.  You can see it happening.

For Samuel, theology is more vague.  Since we have started praying, "Our father..." he has started referring to Jesus as "Baby God."  At least, we think that is what he is doing.  He might just think there is a special god for babies, but I doubt it.  The God of the Babies would not concern him much, as he is now a big boy.  Just ask him.  He will tell you.  And if you don't believe him, he'll scream and throw a fit until you change your mind.

The other night, as we were gathered in their room, getting ready to pray, Samuel interrupted me.  "Wait, Mommy, wait.  I have a good one."  Okay.  I invited him to pray about what was on his heart.

"God, please don't let Jesus run into the street or get in the washing machine on accident and get dizzy.  Amen."

To Samuel, this is what a good father does.

Amen.