Kian cracks us up!

On Sunday, Kian made up this game with Daddy that had us all in stitches. He thought the game was so hilarious, and well, we thought HE was hilarious.

First Kian would get a memory card (no, not the computer kind, the little kids' game kind). Notice the look of determination on his face.

Then he would stick it in Spence's mouth.

And Spence would wait, and wait, and then blow the card sky high (this photo caught the card on the ascent). Kian squealed and giggled all over.

He was so proud of himself.

Snoqualmie in the fall

Last weekend we had some friends come up from Oregon to see us. The highlight was taking them on Saturday to see Snoqualmie Falls. It is SO beautiful in the Northwest--especially in the fall, and I just had to share!

The kids hiking down to get closer to the falls.

Evie G.

Poor Mr. K. We were in a rush and forgot his jacket. He had to wear one of Elyse's from the van!

Where we hiked down. It didn't take the kids and Spence any time at all to disregard the "Stay on Boardwalk! Caution: Sudden changes in water level occur" signs, and jump down to the rocks below. We all got out of there alive, though.

This was a little fuzzy, but aren't my boys cute!

"Thirty-as-well?"

So, when I told a friend yesterday how old I was turning he said, "Oh, so you're turning thirty-as well (32)." We both laughed at his clever little comment, but then I started to wonder, "Am I getting old? I mean, is he trying to help me think of a clever way to disguise my age because there is something inherently wrong with 32? I've never thought I was old, and in my mind, I think I'm perpetually about 25. So really, people, how do you know when you're getting old?

I LOVED the rock collection from the backyard that was scotch-taped to pink paper!

I giggled like a kid when I opened the skirt that I've owned for seven years that Elyse had daddy help her wrap.

Aiden's polished, heart-shaped stone truly was a precious gem.

And I actually wanted to blow out my own candles. I didn't want that little blonde girl next to me to do it for me! (OK, I admit I was concerned about the germs.)

But wait, now I know why I might be classified as old. When I opened Spencer's gift, I'll admit I had a little feeling of dread about having to figure out a new contraption. I mean, I'm sure a GPS is a great tool and all, and I'll probably love it, but I have to take time to learn it! I AM thirty-as-well and all, and don't you know you can't teach an old dog new tricks?

Elyse's Field Trip to the Pumpkin Patch

So one of the advantages and disadvantages to helping run and organize your own preschool is that you get to be in the details--like especially field trips. We got together with a bunch of other moms who were doing co-op preschools, and we went to the pumpkin patch. The kids had a great time--worms, chickens, veggies and more. And we even baked a pie with the pumpkin we took home!

The kids check out the BIG pumpkins.

The farmer lady was a great teacher, and Elyse loved petting the animals.



The preschool-level corn maze. The kids did it over and over!

Elyse and her good friend Grace. (And no, Grace is NOT the one with straw coming out of her head.)

Pumpkin Carving with Evie's Class

So Ms. Eaton organized a family pumpkin carving event a couple of weeks ago. We had to toss two pumpkins today because they were completely moldy. But, I think the experience was worth it. It was fun to see Evie so proud to show off her family to her teacher and friends, and also to show them off to us. I think we all had a great time.

(And yes, every time we mention Evie's teacher, Spence asks Evie if she's "eatin'" all the time in class--Evie's not amused)

Coulson's finished product

Aiden used a design, but cut it out all by himself! Way to go, Aiden!

So Elyse drew hers, and I cut it out. It was SO cute!

Evie wasn't so big on cleaning out the pumpkin guts, but she did do everything else by herself.

The whole gang cleaning out the gook--except for Spence. He was the photographer. He doesn't "do" the pumpkin carving thing. And Kian got to be a handful by the end. Everyone else did fine.

Back On-line

So, I haven't even gotten on my blog, because I feel so guilty for not updating. It's beginning to look like my journal, with months between entries. Bad, bad! It all started when our computer crashed, and it took us months to get a new one. Then I got out of the habit of writing, and then it all went downhill from there. I figure I'll only keep doing this though, if it is a guilt-free endeaver. So, there's only moving forward; no looking back. If I go months between entries, so be it!

Dinner Conversation

When I was at a little lunch with friends in Michigan, a friend told me she always did "Best and Worst" at the dinner table with her husband and kids--each family member would share the best thing that happened that day and the worst. It was a great way to connect, and find out what's really going on in her family's lives. So, we've implemented this practice. Some nights it works better than others, but tonight we delved a little, and everyone had something to share.

Elyse's "best" (sometimes confused with worst, and often happened months ago): going on an airplane with Daddy. No worst.

Then we all got stuck in Evie's worst (can't remember the best): She was playing tag, tripped over a little boy's backpack, fell in the rocks (where she skinned her hand), and then no one came and comforted her. Everyone always comes and comforts someone when they get hurt on the playground. No one put their hand on her shoulder, and so no one likes her. So we dig a little deeper: only Hannah is nice to her all the time. She prefers to play with older kids because they are nice. The "little kids"--her peers, who are really older than she is--are mean all the time.

I get a pit in my stomach. Suddenly I am in elementary school all over again, bewildered at the sudden winds of change between nice and mean of playground kids everywhere. I couldn't navigate it then; how on earth can I counsel my daughter how to navigate it now? I think I say something along the lines of, "Evie, you're always an allstar to me, and all you can do is make sure you are nice." But I know through sad experience that "nice" does not always equal friends, let alone true friends. And when I advise her to find some friends her own age, she tells me she doesn't care about how old people are, she wants to be friends with the nice kids. Who can dispute that? So, I am stumped by my 5-year-old.

And then I get to Coulson. His best was his class's rocket launch and their reading of their "This I believe" essays. They all wrote essays which they sent into NPR's segment called "This I believe." Coulson was passionate about his, and did it all on his own. He wrote about conserving water and how he wanted to grow up to be a scientist that discovered ways to preserve water. I was surprised by his theme choice. He said that he was impressed with Corey who wrote about how he believed in God and the Body of Christ. He then explained that Corey told a story that showed him that God was looking out for him. (Coulson was disappointed that he didn't actually pray in the situation, but it was good nonetheless.) I told Coulson that I admired Corey's courage to write about his faith and then said, "If you admired Corey so much, why didn't you choose to write about something like that?" Coulson said, "Mom, I believe and everything, but sometimes I think we just need to solve our own problems." Hmmm. Then I talked about how God can help us with anything, and could help us solve our problems. He knows that of course, but says that he thinks God expects us to work it out. I guess we are the ones consuming and abusing our natural resource of water; I can see why he thinks we should fix it. In the end, I don't say much.

So, yes Spence is out of the country again, but who needs adult conversation? I'm stumped by my kids.

Happy Birthday, Mr. K!

Kian is one year old!

It happened a week ago today, and I had so much fun enjoying the day that I didn't do anything to record it.

We had a simple little family party, where the most fun was watching the other kids get excited about the moment--spending all morning before church coloring his birthday poster,

wrapping his gifts (they each had one to give, and he loved them all!),

and catching glimpses of his alligator cupcake cake.

Kian is an allstar in our house--the one family member that everyone adores (even Elyse with all her teasing).

We're so happy you had a good one! We sure love you!

Fingerache

So I was doing Elyse's hair on Thursday morning. I rarely curl her hair, because she has natural wave, but I had curled Evie's that morning and she was fascinated with the process. She was frustrated though, because she couldn't "see" what was going on.

"Mommy, I want up" (up on top of the counter).

"Elyse, I'm nervous about putting you up there because the curling iron is up there, and I don't want you to get burned. I'll put it over here, and you just don't touch it. Ok?"

"Ok."

And I hoist her up onto the counter away from the curling iron. I walk 10 feet away, turn my back to get a clip and hear a scream. I turn around and see her clutching this finger and telling me she was sorry. I put her hand under running, cold water and took the opportunity to give her a gentle mini-lecture. I let her know that I only I warn her of things because I don't want her to get hurt, and that she should trust me. She was so sad, and had to call Grandma to tell her about her "fingerache." I can only hope a minor burn on her index finger will be the worst of her experimentation.

Spring Performances

May is the time to watch those kids perform!

The Emperor in "The Emperor's New Clothes":

Coulson did a fantastic job. I was amazed at how well he "got into" his aristocratic, shallow character! This was only his opening costume. The rest of the time he had crazy outfits, and ended in his red long johns. The show was a musical, and it was very funny and clever. Great opportunity for the kids!

Coulson's ending costume

Prince Aiden--

the Emperor's son who is definitely NOT this serious! He quarreled with his sister, told the truth about his father, and went through the entire performance with his shoes UNTIED! Who is his mother? Certainly not the queen! He was hillarious.

Swan Princess

Evie's kindergarten class and the entire first grade did the "Animal Alphabet" for us (no one told me I was supposed to dress her like a swan). Evie sang every word of ever song, took several bows, and beamed the entire show!

I'm waiting for a child who doesn't love the spotlight--not happening so far. So until then, I just try not to beam too brightly at them, because I really am SO proud.

Fashion Expert

All right, I have to admit that in a pinch, I turn to Evie for fashion advice. Just Friday when I found an awesome $12.00 dress on a clearance rack, brought it home, and was agonizing over how to complete the ensemble--I turned to my personal consultant for help.

"Evie, do you think it looks better with the cardigan, or should I just go with the button-up underneath?" She told me that both were cute, but it looked better with the button-up. And 10 minutes later when I decided that maybe a 5-year old didn't know it all, and I would try a T-shirt, she told me again to go with the button-up. So what did I wear on Sunday? My new $12.00 dress with a white button-up underneath.

It was Saturday morning when she sealed the deal for me. I knew she deserved my full confidence when Evie bounded down the stairs in this little get-up, and emphatically declared, "Mom, I match!"

I simply replied, "Oh, you do?"

"Yes, because, look there's this blue on the shirt, and this blue here on the skirt."

"Ah yes I see that, but the skirt is what's called a plaid, and the shirt is striped, and technically, you're not supposed to wear a plaid and a stripe together."

She paused for a moment, and then said, "Well I feel cute, so I match!" And she turned around and started to play with Elyse.

My first impulse was incredulous indignation, then I started to laugh, and finally I just admired--all throughout the day--at lunch at Pickle Time, in Kohls, and at home. And when she snuggled down in her soft Belle jammies that night, I swelled with pride and hope that she would never lose that vision, never let social mores determine how she felt about herself. Because dang it, Evie! You ARE cute--stripes and plaids and all! And thanks for the advice on the dress. I felt cute on Sunday too. ;-)

Happy Mother's Day!

Your honey who loves you.

Just two of your children who admire you!

And ONE of your grandchildren who adores you!

Just thinking of a pretty (in more ways than one) awesome woman, who I'm glad to call my mom. I sure love you Mom, and hope you have a great day!

"I'm so glad when Daddy comes home!"

So, this is what I saw when I walked into our living room at 3:00pm Saturday afternoon. And this is not a love seat! There IS another cushion and a half to sit on, but something a little more desirable than space was on THIS side of the couch. Spence had been home one hour (after having been in India for 6 days), and was waiting for his ride to attend a leadership training with Elder Holland, a wonderful leader in our church. I guess the training was pretty incredible. India? He said it was productive, but not exactly your desired vacation spot. He was homesick much of the time. We missed him SO much! Glad you're home, Hon.

Jif

So, the first argument Spence and I had as a married couple was over peanut butter. I had just finished my grocery shopping, and had arrived at our 250 square-foot "honeymoon shack" as our landlord lovingly put it, complete with leaking septic tank and moldy closet, when my darling new husband saw the jar of Jif peeping out of the grocery bag.

"Heather, what's this?"

"Peanut butter. Oh, I'm sorry would you have rather had crunchy?"

"Well yes, but that's not the point. You know we don't always need to have the nicest things."

"What are you talking about? Of course I know that. Are you saying that I'm spoiled?"

We were very poor college students, and Spence was concerned that I had bought name-brand peanut butter--thus setting a precedent for our marriage that we couldn't afford. And when I indignantly proclaimed (through tears, I'm sure) that Jif was on sale and was actually the cheapest peanut butter in the store, he felt chagrinned, and I never did let him live it down.

The sting of that silly argument was the first of many as we worked to figure out this partnership we'd formed. Together we could conquer the world, but Spence had better not play basketball once a week without checking with me first. We wanted only to soar like kites with nothing but the wind beneath us, but kept getting tangled in each other's strings.

It has been thirteen years now, and I still do the grocery shopping. Spence still helps me put things away, but I can't remember the last time he questioned what I bought at Safeway. We have grown together and changed immensely, and he has become my anchor. The tangles are much fewer and far between as I have come to know that he holds both my heart and my kite string close to him, and simply cheers me on while I soar.

But let's be honest, he had still better check with me before he plays basketball. ;-)

Yeah, I've Got Time

The drive that Mr. Incredible makes to the chapel on the way to his wedding keeps coming to mind as I think the day my middle child first climbed onto a school bus, embarked upon her 13-year journey through public schools, and began kindergarten. We parents ache with the dread of and anticipation for that moment (the yin and yang of watching a child grow up)--hoping that our child survives and thrives as she navigates the "establishment," that someone will see her through the same rosy lens of wonder and awe through which we see her, that they will accept her, give her their stamp of approval, and tell her she's doing "ok." And on this Friday morning, as all of these subconscious emotions and thoughts were brewing in the back of my mind, I put myself into auto-pilot and just tried to get my girl out the door.

Have you ever tried to get five kids under the age of nine out the door by 8:45 in the morning? Keep in mind that the two oldest, most responsible children are 9 and 7 year-old boys who would rather "curse" each other with a Harry Potter "muffliato" charm than make a pbj and load their backpack. The baby is great as long as he hasn't had a blow out, is completely fed, and you're holding him in your arms. And the middle two girls, my sweet little chocolate and vanilla twist? Well, just think of constant (and I do mean constant) talking interrupted only by a cry of pain while brushing out a tangle, a scream of exasperation with a sister who is "taking her toy," or crying because of, yet again--a teasing brother. Sorry guys, Mom doesn't have a chance.

So as Mr. Incredible drives to his own wedding (a moment full of at least as much anticipation as the 1st day of kindergarten), he keeps hearing crisis calls over the radio. He checks his watch, and says, "Yeah, I've got time," and he takes detours to save people's lives. While the calls I hear as I'm trying to get my kids ready for school may not be as life threatening as a run-away train, or as glamorous as capturing "Bon Voyage," I too look at the clock and say, "Yeah, I've got time." It may be a dryer timer, a baby cry, or most frightening no sound at all coming from the two-year old. And on Friday morning, there were several calls. I won't go into the grueling details, but suffice it to say, I let myself get "detoured" once again--so badly in fact, that my darling little kindergartener had to run her guts out while my neighbor held up the bus. Even though I tried to console myself by thinking she had eaten a hot breakfast, had a healthy lunch packed in her backpack, and was wearing argyle tights to boot, I couldn't help but shed a few tears that I didn't have the moment I'd anticipated. I don't know what I wanted--a hug and kiss maybe, a slow, meaningful goodbye? It would have been nice not to have her running like mad to our corner bus stop, leaving the baby in a parked stroller in the driveway, and me and the two-year-old trailing behind her. She did stop to pose for our neighbor to snatch a picture.

But then again, maybe a few of those tears were shed because I don't have a lot of time. It flies by all too quickly. And I wasn't the only one crying! Her little sister shed a few tears herself. I held her back as she watch big sis step on the bus. With reaching arms, she crumpled and cried, "But, I want to go!" I hugged her tight and said, "You will Honey. . . in three years." What I didn't say was, "until then, you're still mine!" After we waved the bus good bye, I loaded her into the double stroller next to the baby and we took a silent little walk around the block. Because for just right now, yeah, we've still got time.