Photo Story Friday: Time for Truce

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Well, these young warriors were at it on the battlefield again.

After punches and pinches, pushes and pulls, it was time for a change of pace.

I asked the young warriors to cease fire but my plea fell on deaf ears.

Time for truce! I asked the young ladies to sit cross-legged on the floor with their knees touching.

Of course this request was met with resistance until the timer went from 2 minutes to 3, with promise for more time with non-compliance.

Reluctantly, the warriors sat cross-legged and grudgingly inched forward, very slowly and painfully, until...their knees met!

First, they wouldn't look at each other.

My next request was to face each other, look each other in the eyes and think about how they had hurt the other.

Within seconds, and I exaggerate not I tell you, they were giggling and saying, "Okay Mom! We're friends! Now can we get up?" I said, "Yes, as soon as the timer beeps. Now look your friend in the eye!"

When the timer beeped, I gave one final request, "Now, before you get up, give each other a hug and apologize!" Giggling and haltingly, as if their hands were filled with lead, they inched their hands together, got as far as hooking fingers, and gave each other a "finger hug". "So-rry!"

Well, I guess I didn't specify what kind of hug! The truce was made, "hugs" were given, and apologies extended. They left in giggles...and in cahoots...once again!

I Forgot My Camera at Home Tonight, Apparently..

But that's okay! Cause I've got stories to tell. Stories that don't really need pictures. Some of them don't, some of them could have used a picture or two.

Let's see how much of them I will remember.

My hubby had some of the girls out with him the other day. He had some Guy Things to do so he left me home sleeping (I had just worked a night shift) with our oldest and youngest and took the four "in-between" girls with him. As they were about to break for lunch, he asked, "You guys want lunch?" Of course, a unanimous, "Yeah!" ripped through the van. Then he asked, "How bout Taco Bell?" Another, "Yeah!" followed by the inevitable, "NOOO! I want Arby's!" Before my hubby could inhale to answer, he heard a quiet but firm, "No! They don't afford Arby's anymore. Not when when they don't have their specials anymore!" 'Nuff said! He just chuckled and headed to Taco Bell.

*And the story behind that one? The weekend before, after church, we decided to swing through drive-thru for lunch since we weren't going straight home. We rarely do Arby's because with a family our size, it quickly adds up... BUT, we DO occcasionally do the "5 for $5.95" deal, times two. HOWEVER, when we drove up to the menu board, I said, "Okay, we'll do the 5 for $5.95.." and was quickly cut off with a, "Oh. We don't have that special anymore." So I just said, "Oh. Okay. Thanks anyway." We told the girls that without coupons, which we left at home, and no 5 for $5.95 special anymore, Arby's is too expensive...and off we drove to Taco Bell.*

Last Saturday: All day long we tried to get the girls to do jobs around the house. All day long we were met with procrastination, evading, arguing, grumbling, etc. Finally, my husband told the girls that since no one did a significant amount of anything, the next day at church the girls weren't allowed to have any friends sit with us nor were they allowed to sit with any of their friends families. They weren't allowed to go to any of their friends houses for the afternoon nor were they allowed to have any friends over. We weren't going to go anywhere nor were we going to have anyone over. We were just going to come home, get the remainder of homework done that wasn't finished like it should have been and pretty much just sit around and be bored. We explained that it was a result of their not listening to us...we reminded them that not listening to one's parents is called "disobedience" and not only does this displease us, it displeases God.

Girl #3 was in the kitchen with me and asked me, "Yeah, that is pretty bad. Do you think God is pretty frustrated right now? If I were God, I think I would be pretty frustrated at me right now. I would probably be pretty annoyed with me, don't you think so, Mom? In fact, I would probably be so annoyed that I would want to give me some punishment, right Mom?" I kinda smiled and said, "Yeah, I guess...maybe..." *Yeah, probably pretty annoyed...along with pretty amused, maybe?* They don't always tell you what kind answers to give these kids in those parenting manuals you get with each one of them as they're born, do they? Can you imagine the first page on some of these kids, if you were given a "How To" manual with each one? I can see it, "Fragile: Handle with care" or "Wild Card: Exercise Extreme Caution" or "Remember, Repetition Is the Key: No, No, NO! or she will not get it!"

Traumatic Tuesday: The kids had just run outside for a bit since bedtime was nearing and they knew that soon they would be herded to bed. After they had been out for a bit, I could hear a hubbub happening and assumed some great squabble was taking place. Soon, Girl #3 came in wailing so hard, even as dramatic as she can be and so very, very loud she can get when she cries this time I was wondering if she broke a limb or something of that nature. As she wailed up the stairs, with the whole entourage following (one big clue that no one had hurt her, they would have stayed outside, quickly scheming up their defense), I noticed she was holding one hand with the other. Since I knew an answer was going to be hard to come by from her, I looked over her head to the crew following her up the stairs and asked, "Okay, what happened to her?" The oldest said with a sigh and just short of rolling her eyes, "I guess, she got stung by a bee, or something!" *sigh again*. (Have I mentioned she has just entered Middle School?)

I looked at her finger at what appeared to be a sliver wedged under a flap of skin. Upon closer inspection, I noticed it was, in fact, a bee stinger with the bee's rear end (that was what had looked like a flap of skin) still attached and periodically wiggling!! I sent her to show her dad while I looked for something to remove the stinger with. I knew that if she noticed it wiggling, she would probably have a full-fledged panic attack (not a real one, as defined by a medical book, but one that would create her own new meaning for the phrase "panic attack"). I therefore told Hubby in Finnish, "Look, it's rear end is still moving." She said, right in my wake, "LOOK! It's still wiggling!!!" and nearly hyperventilated. As I was gently removing the stinger and rear end of the bee, she was near hysterics, "Ooooh, be careful! Could it make it worse...could you squeeze more poison into me like that? Do people die from this? Could I become INJURED from it? Oooh, don't make it hurt when you take it out...oh, it's out?" Then, as it started to swell rather quickly, she was a little panicky, which wasn't helped by her older sister's observations, "Gasp! Oh. my. gosh. It is getting just huge!" I looked at it but wasn't too worried. Her coloring was fine, it was getting big pretty fast but I would expect that in a finger when the finger just doesn't have a lot of room for the venom to spread. Then when Dad, who is allergic to bee stings started to worry too, I looked at it again and said, "Well, I'll just keep an eye on it and bring her in if I have to." To which Injured Daughter latched onto and said, "Yes. Bring me in." I told her that I would first call the clinic and ask them what would merit worry.

I did call the clinic and they echoed my sentiment: the finger does swell faster since it's a smaller area for the venom to spread, ice it, keep it elevated, give ibuprofen and put baking soda paste on it.

Oh, just before I called the clinic? Injured Daughter, upon hearing I was going to call, said, "Tell them it's swollen! It's as big as Dad's finger already" Her dad has big fingers!!! I told my husband this, so when I.D. came out of the bedroom, he told her, "So. I hear that your finger is as big as mine?" She quickly scoped out his fingers and replied, "Your pinky finger!" Smart girl!

Never a dull moment!

Photo Story Friday: The Calm After the Storm

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

My Daughter #4 took these pictures shortly after tornado-like weather tried to brew up in our town.

Let Me Tell You 'Bout My Girls!

Well, let's just put it this way: They're no Ordinary Girls. Life with them at least isn't what I expected life with girls to be.

I had a picture of hair. Girly hair. The sorta hair that you brushed, and groomed, and did things in. Like French Braids. Inside-out French Braids. Maybe even a French Braid that circled the head like a crown. Evenings of giggles, and foam rollers or rag curls. I guess, we have a lot of the evenings of giggles, just how I imagined it. Even better. But, the curls? Maybe with Girl #1 from the ages 3-6. That was it.

Then she decided curls weren't cool, dresses weren't cool, girly-girls weren't cool. The rest followed in her footsteps. Gone are the dreams of patiently and lovingly wrapping their hair, section by section, into rollers. Unfurling their luscious curls in the morning, watching their curls bob and bounce around their shoulders as they run and play around the house or board the bus proudly, showing what their mother did to make their hair beautiful.

Honestly, some of the girls would go into infinity never, ever touching a brush to their hair. I draw the line at school and church...I insist they groom themselves at least for those two occasions. I have literally chased a couple of them around the house with a brush before, saying, "You might as well stop right now, young lady! I still can run faster than you and I will catch you and I will brush your hair regardless of your wishes or opinions!" Sad truth? At least one of the girls, I know could outrun me! Girl #3 is Speedy Quick. Like lightning. I won't ever tell her that. She will find out soon enough. For now, she still thinks I am faster than her. And that I will catch her. And I will brush her hair. So she stops and lets me.

So, in the meantime, they have unkempt, undone hair, just hanging there:















And their own, homemade ponytails:












And their own homemade haircuts:
















And dress up? Sure. They do like to dress up. In their own sorta way:
















But not for church. Not for school. Dresses? Ew. Way to girly. Girl #3 actually went through a phase she would have dressed up for church. She would have dressed up for school. In dress-up clothes, in all their glory. Probably still would. If I would let her. I won't. I used to once in a while oblige. Let her come to the grocery store with me in her dress-up clothes. In her Clip-Clop shoes. She loved it. Secretly...I kinda loved it too! It showed her little flair-ish personality that we see in her every day of her life. We enjoy it. Why not let everyone else enjoy it too? :)

Tree climbing has become The Middle Children's favorite sport:









See her?







Waaay up there? (click on the picture and *gulp* see how high she goes!)






And her..?
All snug there in the tree?









Monkeys!






They like to do SpyWork.











From waaay up there.







And you know what the Older of The Middle Children told me, excitedly and furtively? "Mom! Now you know our secret! Our secret places we step and hold onto and climb to get waay up here!" And I told her, "And now wanna know my secret? I've been watching you. I've been watching you two climbing up this tree. From the kitchen window. Betcha didn't even know, did you?"


Know what though? Back to the Girl thing? Betcha can't guess what's been happening lately! My oldest girl has started to let me buy her kinda Girly clothes again. And she oftentimes wears my clothes now. And shoes. And uses my hairstuff. I even find my shavers misplaced! I decided to just get one for her...to cut down on the wandering shaver thing. It's been kind of fun! She respects my fashion sense now. Even asks my opinion. Are we coming full circle?














One other thing? When I had my first baby, I had decided that I was not going to get into that girl/pink and boy/blue thing! I mean, what was that all about? I was going to dress my little girl in mini-me clothes. I mean, the girl's gotta maintain her dignity. She has to be fashionable. I dressed her in little jeans, sweaters, and boots. Found out quickly, babies don't do cute little fashionable boots.

Well, it took a few babies for me to embrace the Pink thing. And now, it's Pink, Pink, Pink, Pink. She's a GIRL, for crying out loud. A GIRL!!!!

In all her Pink Glory!

I am .. THAT kind of Mom!

It's quite simple. Really. I run my household smoothly and on a schedule. Bedtime is predictably at the same time, complete with pre-bedtime rituals consistently followed every night. Bedtime stories read, prayers said, teeth brushed (and flossed), kisses planted on sweet, freshly scrubbed cheeks. Schedules and predictability are so important for children!

I keep up on my laundry.

I've mastered a routine like none other. To run a larger household, that is the only way!

Menus are planned two weeks in advance. I shop every Saturday and stock my cupboards with all the ingredients needed for the upcoming week.

I bake my own bread, all-natural and wholesome. Just like my mother's. All my meals are made from fresh, basic, wholesome ingredients. Just like my mother's.

To succeed in this manner, I keep my schedule. I do the bills on the same day every week, I plan my meals on another. The fridge is scrubbed on grocery shopping day. A day for each task!

To keep the children well-behaved? Consistency is the key! Always follow up on your threats. Dole out consequences for poor choices. Always use politically-correct phrases, like,"That is not a choice!" and, "Use your inside voices!"

MY kids are well-behaved. Because they know that is what is expected of them. Because I have clearly stated my expectations to them.

Well, that was what kind of mom I used to be. Then.....I had children!



Pfffffffffft! And my bubble was burst!

Well-oiled schedules are made up. They just aren't followed. They may be put up on the fridge....or on the cork board...or in a 3-ring binder in a sheet protector with a dry-erase marker to check off each task as it's performed. Next thing I know, someone has removed the schedule from the fridge or cork board to draw very beautiful pictures on the back (or on the front), or just knocked them off and they are quickly skidded across the floor in the whirlwind of traffic. The 3-ring binder gets misplaced or the dry-erase marker gets lost, or the kids find it (the only dry-erase marker in the household that's not dried out) and use it to draw all over the big dry-erase calendar that we don't use anymore.

Bedtime? Same time every night. And always will be. Just usually not followed. Attempted, but somehow not followed.

Bedtime rituals? Got 'em. Consistently and on time, every night, like clockwork. They go something like this: "Hey, where is everyone? Outside? Tell 'em to get in. It's bedtime (big mistake. shoulda said, time for ice cream)." I lose the one I sent out as well. Another one? Like clockwork, every night, send them to don pj's, only for them to get side-tracked by the Barbies or dolls and never come back with their pj's on. Others sing the chorus of, "Oh, Mom! I forgot!!! I need a drink, my body pillow and a stack of books put together for tomorrow's read-n-feed. Can you run to the store and get me a Gatorade?" Ummm, no!

Stuck to the couch nursing the baby, I helplessly shout orders to the handful of children scampering through, here and there, "Hey! Someone! Potty those dogs!" Oh, I forgot. There is no one named "Someone" in our house! "Okay, you! Go potty and feed one of the dogs. Your choice since you are the first one to potty one tonight." A, "Why me????" nearly always follows. Of course, it would be unfair to make it sound like they never help. One of the girls always does dog duties with very few complaints, one of them nearly never does without a complaint. The complainer about the dogs though is almost a second mother to our baby. Not because I ask her to so much but because she loves to take care of her baby sister. She adores her!

The truth on the laundry? NEVER caught up! But, the kids always have clean clothes to wear to school. I make sure to run what I need, at very minimum, so I usually have at least a few days' worth of clean clothes for each of them. Well, at least the school kids. The other two might be a little short from time to time on clean laundry. But there is always, always dirty laundry waiting, unfolded laundry, and a small stack waiting for stubborn stain removal.

The truth on menu planning? I actually do make menus 1-2 weeks at a time...when I can. I just went grocery shopping on Saturday night (after running 6 miles that evening, mind you) and got everything I needed for meals and snacks for the next week...all pretty healthy and wholesome even. This system is just starting up again. It had been put on hold since I first got pregnant with my nearly one-year-old baby. We'll see how long that lasts this time.

So, you see, I did two things right this week...menu-planned pretty healthy meals and snacks, and did a 6 mile run in preparation for my upcoming 10 mile run in October. And I'm clinging to it 'cause it very well may be the only things I do right for a very, very long time! :)

When I bake my own bread, it is really pretty wholesome...it just doesn't happen often enough. I use olive oil, honey instead of sugar (and very little of it), wheat germ, flax seed, oatmeal, cornmeal, a titch of molasses, and part wheat flour along with white flour. And my family likes it. Score!!!

But, very often, they get store bought bread from the bread discount store...bought on Wednesdays, because then it's even more discounted.

Scrubbing the fridge down on grocery shopping day? My intention, yes. Usually it's more like, wash the milk shelf down every Friday 'cause that's when the milkman comes.

At least one shelf is pretty consistently washed!

Telling my kids that, "That is not a choice!" is usually met with a look like, "Oh, I knew that! It was my choice, however!" And, "Use your inside voice!"...? They do! Very loudly! I have to tell them, "Use your school voice" or "Use your school inside voice!" That works better!

So, all-in-all, I get a couple points for at least being aware of what I should be doing as a parent. These silly kids of mine just keep getting in between me and these goals. And guess what? I really don't mind so very much! I really don't! :)

*What inspired this post was, this afternoon as I was preparing our evening meal, I pulled something out of the refrigerator, brought it over to the counter, began to work with this food product..and turned around when it dawned on me...I left the fridge door open! Because I was eventually going to return this food item to the fridge! I was turning into one of my kids! What has come over me??? And the quote, "When in Rome..." came to mind. As in, my kids have done it so long, now I have begun to do it. And then my mind began to wander back to how I thought I would run a household...how my kids would turn out...even just how I used to be: I NEVER left the fridge door open. I ALWAYS rinsed my dishes right after using them. I ALWAYS put every ingredient back after I used it while making something (I even lined them up in the order I was going to use them). AND...I used to hang clothes on hangers that closest matched the color of the clothing..then lined them up in color order. I WASN'T a total neat-freak. Just a tad bit more organized than I am now!

And She Donned An Apron!

*Btw, this pose...my oldest daughter insisted on it. I did it to be weird, then dropped it..she said, "No, no, no...do it the other way!" which floored me cause she usually doesn't like me to act weird. Especially somewhere like in public or in a picture! So, I obliged!

This is the only apron I own. I have owned it for nearly five years. I have only washed it once (it is in the wash for the second time, as we speak...or rather, as I speak). I have only worn it a handful of times, trying carefully not to get it dirty (not too hard, considering the amount of baking I do).

The reason I don't like to use it too much? My eldest daughter made it, along with a tile of matching design, in first grade.

Then for the following daughters, they quit this program of making really cool things like this. I thought I would get one tile and one apron of each girls' artwork. I didn't. (I planned to put all the tiles together someday, after we have all the kids we are going to have and we have all the tiles we are going to have and we have built our dream home, and have a beautiful backsplash in my dream kitchen of all my kids' tiles....oh, the pain of shattered dreams).

Now I've finally started to use this, reasoning that I don't have to wash it after each use if I don't dirty it each time.

I love aprons. I love wearing this. Not only because it's an apron but because it's a very special apron. I only wish I would have 3 more just like it...and eventually 2 after that!

A Baby and Her Dogs

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

*Disclaimer: Just so no one worries...we are very, very careful with our baby and the dogs. She is never left unsupervised with the dogs. Our Great Dane is so huge that, as gentle as he is, he could hurt her greatly just by sitting or stepping on her or wagging his bony tail in her direction. There are areas in the house the dogs are forbidden. That is where, still with supervision, we let our baby practice crawling, creeping and playing with floor toys. Just don't want anyone to worry! :)