I meant to post about easter. I took pictures and video and everything. But then... I didn't. And I don't know if anyone would still be interested, beings as it's been so long. HOWEVER! I have exciting news! Sons #1 and 2 entered a film festival their school was hosting, in the Comedy catagory. The results came out today, and they took FIRST PLACE!!! GO THEM!!! So, in honor of their achievement, I am posting thier video here. :) Turn the sound all the way up, it's lousy. They didn't win on technical achievement. lol!http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auT0HiyyIL0
Friday, May 13, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Catchoccer!
Ok, pictured here we have sons #2, 3 and 4. :) Today, sons #2, 4, 5 and I went to the park with multiple balls and some baseball gloves. Son #2 and I were playing catch while son #5 crawled around in the grass beside us with a squishy ball and son #4 played on the playground. But #4 got bored with that, and wanted to play catch with us. We had a kickball-type Ironman ball with us, so I kicked it , and he thought that was hilarious and chased it down and kicked it back to me, for me to kick it away again. Meanwhile, I was still playing catch with #2... and I soon found myself playing soccer with one kid whilst simultaneously playing catch with the other.
I have dubbed this new game CATCHOCCER! When we told son #1 about it later, he felt that we should set up scoring rules. Everything's got to get complicated, doesn't it? lol!
And now, just because, I will post a gratuitous baby picture. It's cute. Who can't smile when they see this?? (And that brown stuff below his nose is peanut butter, I promise.)
And then one last item of business for this post, I will add a link to a video I took right after taking that picture. It's of him talking and laughing. Only follow the link if you can handle gooey sweetness. :D
Son #5 talking and laughing... who can resist baby's laughter???
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
My own little Calvin
See the sweet child sleeping peacefully? See the unsuspecting Barney that is slumbering as well, lovingly placed on the pillow for his comfort? Today, son #4 invented a new game. He has a little tractor that is now too small for him to ride around on, but Barney was carefully, lovingly, placed on the seat to go for a ride on the tractor... and then sent hurtling over the edge of the porch in a five foot swan dive into the weeds.
Run off the porch and into the crash zone below, searching the debris with dismay.
"OH NO! OH my GOODNESS GRACIOUS! Barney! Are you ah-right? Barney?"
Wait for mom to express concern for Barney and instructions to pick him up and fix it. Toss Barney back onto the porch, struggle and put tractor back on the porch. Run back around to ascend the steps and return to your best friend... then repeat. Over... and over... and over...
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Pictures! We have some Pictures!
Ok, so I decided to SHOW you what it was like to have a wide spectrum of ages in children. Two of my middle children aren't shown here. But below, we have two pictures of Son #1 reading to Sons #4 & 5
And here, we have the "I DO IT!" syndrome. You can see his face. He washed it with soap and water "all by myself". Then he needed to get dressed. He refused to listen when it was explained to him that the shirt he chose was too small. He wanted to wear THAT shirt. And he insisted on putting it on himself. Below is the results of his hard labor.
Ill show pictures of Sons #2 & 3 sometime in the future. :)
Friday, April 8, 2011
I feel like such a jerk
Yesterday, I only saw by baby for about 20 minutes total. I'd gone to work in the morning, then after work I got to see him for a little bit before I got ready for my date, and then spouse and I went to celebrate our anniversary. We didn't get back until after the kids were in bed.
So this morning, I walk out of my bedroom to put my shoes on, and from his highchair (where he's being fed by #1 son), #5 son starts crying and throwing a fit until I wipe his mushy breakfast on his face and spring him from his restraints. So now I'm trying to get my shoes on while holding him. I hold him until I get out to the van, and oldest son follows me. And once I get the keys in the ignition, I hand #5 over, and he starts to cry miserably. His whole face got pale white, with the exception of his little button nose and his eyes and his mouth, which got all red and splotchy. And his mouth was litterally turned down into a frown, with his lower lips sticking out while streams of big fat tears rolled down his cheeks.
I felt like such a jerk driving away as #1 son held him on his hip, bouncing him slightly and assuring his little brother that everything was going to be ok, and I'd be back later. :(
So this morning, I walk out of my bedroom to put my shoes on, and from his highchair (where he's being fed by #1 son), #5 son starts crying and throwing a fit until I wipe his mushy breakfast on his face and spring him from his restraints. So now I'm trying to get my shoes on while holding him. I hold him until I get out to the van, and oldest son follows me. And once I get the keys in the ignition, I hand #5 over, and he starts to cry miserably. His whole face got pale white, with the exception of his little button nose and his eyes and his mouth, which got all red and splotchy. And his mouth was litterally turned down into a frown, with his lower lips sticking out while streams of big fat tears rolled down his cheeks.
I felt like such a jerk driving away as #1 son held him on his hip, bouncing him slightly and assuring his little brother that everything was going to be ok, and I'd be back later. :(
Thursday, April 7, 2011
From the archive: "Nerd-Chic"
This was originally an email on Feb 7, 2011
So after work, I was running home, picking up the baby and my wallet and taking off to the store to get bread crumbs for the pork chops for dinner. I had IMed my husband and told him I was on my way and to have one of the older kids get the baby ready. I get home, open the front door and walk in and not three feet in front of me, my 16 year old is holding out my chubby baby for me to grab.
This poor baby was in a plaid, button up collar shirt that looked like it was buttoned up to the top because it was riding up to his chubby neck. His stomach was hanging out, right above the tan corderouy pants that were TOO SHORT, they were high-waters. And to top it off, his little fluff of hair on the top of his head was slicked over to the side. I swear, he looked like a fat, 35 year old computer nerd.
I just looked at my son and asked "Seriously. This is how you dress him?" And the teenager just looks at me blankly and asks "...what?" *eye roll* Good grief. Every time I looked at him in the store, I couldn't help but giggle. Poor kid. I at least pulled his shirt down constantly so he wouldn't be a Gus-gus the whole time.
This poor baby was in a plaid, button up collar shirt that looked like it was buttoned up to the top because it was riding up to his chubby neck. His stomach was hanging out, right above the tan corderouy pants that were TOO SHORT, they were high-waters. And to top it off, his little fluff of hair on the top of his head was slicked over to the side. I swear, he looked like a fat, 35 year old computer nerd.
I just looked at my son and asked "Seriously. This is how you dress him?" And the teenager just looks at me blankly and asks "...what?" *eye roll* Good grief. Every time I looked at him in the store, I couldn't help but giggle. Poor kid. I at least pulled his shirt down constantly so he wouldn't be a Gus-gus the whole time.
Catch!
I broke weak this morning and got little chocolate covered donut gems and chocolate milk for breakfast. :P Totally counter-productive to the walking on the rec field I did this last week, and the catch I played last night with the boys. (You wouldn't think that a simple game of catch would be that much excersize, but #2 son (14, will turn 15 in a couple weeks) and I got this rythm going and I was pretty winded there at the end!)
I could tell I've been woefully lacking in my parental responsibilities. I threw the ball to ("to", mind you, not even "at" like my Dad used to do to me) #3 son (11yrs) and he flinched with his whole body and actually got hit in the head because he did that. (He flinched *into* the ball.) And then when he threw it to me, ohmygosh. I'm just glad he was playing with me and not some neighbor kid because he would have been laughed out of the game. He threw the ball with his elbow down and tucked mostly close to his body. He looked like a girl, I swear. So I told him about "elbow back" and "throw over your head" and kept getting on his case about proper throwing and catching and "GET IN FRONT OF THE BALL!" and "Stop the ball with whatever means possible- if that means sacrificing your body, they so be it!" There at the end he wasn't flinching and was able to actually catch five throws in a row without missing, and he could throw decently enough that I don't think he'd embarrass himself if someone outside of the family were to play with him. So there was progress there. I'm hoping to cement some of the lessons by playing again tonight, but I'm not sure how much time we'll have. (Spouse and I are supposed to go out to dinner tonight to celebrate our 17th anniversary. :) )
#4 and #5 son were watching the catching, the youngest from his excersaucer, and both got jealous and wanted to play too. So I ended up going into the house and sitting on the floor and rolling the squishy ball for them to chase. #4 (3yrs) was getting pretty good at throwing, while the baby just loved crawling around after it. You wouldn't think a 13 month old would get jealous, but when #4 wouldn't let him play ("Mine ball!") #5 started screaming until he was allowed to chase after and retrieve the ball too. I had to have 2 seperate squishy-balls going to keep them both happy.
I could tell I've been woefully lacking in my parental responsibilities. I threw the ball to ("to", mind you, not even "at" like my Dad used to do to me) #3 son (11yrs) and he flinched with his whole body and actually got hit in the head because he did that. (He flinched *into* the ball.) And then when he threw it to me, ohmygosh. I'm just glad he was playing with me and not some neighbor kid because he would have been laughed out of the game. He threw the ball with his elbow down and tucked mostly close to his body. He looked like a girl, I swear. So I told him about "elbow back" and "throw over your head" and kept getting on his case about proper throwing and catching and "GET IN FRONT OF THE BALL!" and "Stop the ball with whatever means possible- if that means sacrificing your body, they so be it!" There at the end he wasn't flinching and was able to actually catch five throws in a row without missing, and he could throw decently enough that I don't think he'd embarrass himself if someone outside of the family were to play with him. So there was progress there. I'm hoping to cement some of the lessons by playing again tonight, but I'm not sure how much time we'll have. (Spouse and I are supposed to go out to dinner tonight to celebrate our 17th anniversary. :) )
#4 and #5 son were watching the catching, the youngest from his excersaucer, and both got jealous and wanted to play too. So I ended up going into the house and sitting on the floor and rolling the squishy ball for them to chase. #4 (3yrs) was getting pretty good at throwing, while the baby just loved crawling around after it. You wouldn't think a 13 month old would get jealous, but when #4 wouldn't let him play ("Mine ball!") #5 started screaming until he was allowed to chase after and retrieve the ball too. I had to have 2 seperate squishy-balls going to keep them both happy.
Friday, March 25, 2011
From the email archve: 02/09/11
This email to my friends and family was titled "The ER isn't supposed to be fun".
So last night I spent a couple of hours in the ER with First Son (16yrs). At dinnertime, he was leaning over a chair to put something on a counter, rested his knee on the seat and the whole thing collapsed beneath him. Instantly, side and the back side of his ribs had a massive bruise which looked like someone had been dragged over asphalt. It was about a foot long and about 8inches wide. Around 7pm, Husband asked "Are we being bad parents by not taking him to the emergency room?" and we remembered that we had insurance now. Before, if you weren't on the brink of death, it would wait. But since it wasn't going to cost us a dime, I decided that for once, I'd be a good mom and drug the kid down to the ER.
The waiting room was mostly uneventful. It was crowded, and I was struck by a young man who didn't look any older than 18 or 19, and the woman he was with. He was a good looking young man, and he was very, very solicitous of a woman who, at first, looked like an older sister. Most of her dark brown hair was gone, with only long thin bunches around her head. I didn't want to stare, so I didn't get a good look at her, but at a glance, she looked like most people do when they've been ill for a long time- bedraggled and not at their best. But this young man sat as close to her as the bucket seats would allow, had one armed wrapped around her the whole, tucked her in as close as he could and held her. And he'd whisper to her, rub her arm and occasionally kiss the top of her head. It was one of those hearwarming moments that put your faith back into the male species.
But First Son and I sat there for over an hour, I with my kindle and he with a big screen tv. The waiting room slowly cleared out until there was only one other man and us. First Son complained about how long it was taking, and how he was bored and I said how at home I'd made the comment that it could take anywhere from 30 minutes to 3 hours and how he didn't listen to me because mom doesn't know anything, but I warned him and he could have brought a book and he kept insisting "I thought you were joking!" and I said how Dad even agreed with me when I said it and he reiterated "I thought you were joking!" So I offered him my kindle and he said "No mom, I'm not going to take your kindle" and I said I don't mind so he said "Then you won't have anything to do" and I said I was perfectly content with twiddling my thumbs, I've gotten used to it and he said "No, I'm not going to take your kindle" and I held it out to him and asked "Are you sure? I Share" and First Son said that there wasn't anything on there for him to read anyways, and so I told him that I'd downloaded all of Edgar Allen Poe and he said he wasn't in the mood to get depressed, so I told him he could read Dracula and reminded me that we had told him he couldn't read that until we did, and I reminded him that that was a few years ago, and I'm sure it would probably be all right now.
By now, the other gentleman in the waiting room was having a really hard time not laughing at us. I heard him snicker and saw out of the corner of my eye how he was trying not to smile, and it wasn't working so great. I told First Son, "ok, I'd offered," and he went back to watching White Collar.
So his name gets called and Mr Slow Poke starts meanding toward the nurse, so I stop and push him ahead of me and keep jabbing him the back like I'm poking cattle just to get him to keep up with the nurse. So he complains about how I'm pushing him and I tell him to get a move on. We get to his allotted curtain area and I head for the wheely padded stool-type chair next to the wall and he jumps up on the gurney and instead of sitting there on the edge like most people, he gets all the way on, lays back and stretches out and puts his hands under head. *rolls eyes*
The nurse starts hooking him up to the all the gizmos, and he's been to the doctor so little, he has no clue what he's supposed to do, so there I am prompting him "She needs your hand, she's putting that doo-hicky in your finger" "open your mouth, that's a thermometer" and the doo-hickey in his finger suddenly becomes a robotic finger of some sort, which he's waving around. The nurse gets all his information and leaves and he folds his fingers over his stomach and closes his eye and I start to read.
That lasts for thirty seconds before he starts singing. I told him to rest and he said he couldn't and I said he didn't try hard enough and he said he was bored. He tells me to read to him, so I tell him I had a book called Mrs Tiggy Wiggy by Beatrix Potter on there and he has fun making fun of the name Mrs Tiggy Wiggy until I pull it up and realize it's Mrs Tiggy Winkle, which he feels is infinitely better because it doesn't rhyme. So I open it up and start to read it to him, but he assures me emphatically that he was joking, and he didn't need to hear about Mrs Tiggy Wiggy and I said it's Mrs Tiggy Winkle and he said he didn't need to hear about her either. So I got out of that book, pulled open another one and began "Once Upon a Midnight Dreary, while I pondered weak and weary over many a quaint and curios volume of..." and interrupts and says he's NOT in the mood for depressing and morose or creepy, and that he was JUST JOKING about me reading to him. So I get out of The Raven by Poe and pull up another book and get two sentences in about the Admiral Benbow when First Son interrupts and says "Mom, I've already read that one!" but I keep reading for a few more sentences anyway just to annoy him.
By now, I'm in a *really* silly mood, and First Son's bad English accent that he'd adopted for his arguing wasn't helping any. So the doctor shows up and looks at the bruise and pokes him a few times and says that they don't even do X-Rays for this kind of injury because small hairline fractures won't show up on one, and that they diagnose it as (and he insterted airquotes here) clinical fracture or (more airquotes) clinical bruising, and that you treat it the same way.
If it hurts- don't do it.
rotfl!!!! He said he'd write a perscription for some pain meds, and to use Ibuprophen and he assured First Son that he would be in massive, terrible pain the morning. And that he'd get three weeks off school... just kidding!!! which made First Son lament the fact that he was homeschooled and so even if the doctor HADN'T been joking, it wouldnt' have applied to him. But then it occured to him "Wait... do I have to go to Seminary tomorrow morning?" which I told him that if he was hurting really badly, no he didn't have to go. But then he narrowed his eyes and said "If I miss Seminary, does that mean I'll miss the dance tomorrow night as well?" in which I assured him that yes, if he was in too much pain to go sit in a classroom, he'd be in too much pain to go *dancing*. So that's when I knew he'd make it to Seminary today if he had to crawl.
The nurse showed up with the perscription for Vicoden and the discharge paperwork, but she wanted to take his vitals one last time (don't ask me why, they don't usually do that) so she starts hooking him up to the machines again and I'm making silly comments to him, and he's shooting imaginary targets with his robotic finger "ptchoo! ptchoo ptchoo!" and we're both snickering and the nurse is trying not to laugh at us. You'd think we'd been drinking or something the way we were behaving.
We finally got out of there close to 9pm. So. Yeah. That's my ER story from last night.
So last night I spent a couple of hours in the ER with First Son (16yrs). At dinnertime, he was leaning over a chair to put something on a counter, rested his knee on the seat and the whole thing collapsed beneath him. Instantly, side and the back side of his ribs had a massive bruise which looked like someone had been dragged over asphalt. It was about a foot long and about 8inches wide. Around 7pm, Husband asked "Are we being bad parents by not taking him to the emergency room?" and we remembered that we had insurance now. Before, if you weren't on the brink of death, it would wait. But since it wasn't going to cost us a dime, I decided that for once, I'd be a good mom and drug the kid down to the ER.
The waiting room was mostly uneventful. It was crowded, and I was struck by a young man who didn't look any older than 18 or 19, and the woman he was with. He was a good looking young man, and he was very, very solicitous of a woman who, at first, looked like an older sister. Most of her dark brown hair was gone, with only long thin bunches around her head. I didn't want to stare, so I didn't get a good look at her, but at a glance, she looked like most people do when they've been ill for a long time- bedraggled and not at their best. But this young man sat as close to her as the bucket seats would allow, had one armed wrapped around her the whole, tucked her in as close as he could and held her. And he'd whisper to her, rub her arm and occasionally kiss the top of her head. It was one of those hearwarming moments that put your faith back into the male species.
But First Son and I sat there for over an hour, I with my kindle and he with a big screen tv. The waiting room slowly cleared out until there was only one other man and us. First Son complained about how long it was taking, and how he was bored and I said how at home I'd made the comment that it could take anywhere from 30 minutes to 3 hours and how he didn't listen to me because mom doesn't know anything, but I warned him and he could have brought a book and he kept insisting "I thought you were joking!" and I said how Dad even agreed with me when I said it and he reiterated "I thought you were joking!" So I offered him my kindle and he said "No mom, I'm not going to take your kindle" and I said I don't mind so he said "Then you won't have anything to do" and I said I was perfectly content with twiddling my thumbs, I've gotten used to it and he said "No, I'm not going to take your kindle" and I held it out to him and asked "Are you sure? I Share" and First Son said that there wasn't anything on there for him to read anyways, and so I told him that I'd downloaded all of Edgar Allen Poe and he said he wasn't in the mood to get depressed, so I told him he could read Dracula and reminded me that we had told him he couldn't read that until we did, and I reminded him that that was a few years ago, and I'm sure it would probably be all right now.
By now, the other gentleman in the waiting room was having a really hard time not laughing at us. I heard him snicker and saw out of the corner of my eye how he was trying not to smile, and it wasn't working so great. I told First Son, "ok, I'd offered," and he went back to watching White Collar.
So his name gets called and Mr Slow Poke starts meanding toward the nurse, so I stop and push him ahead of me and keep jabbing him the back like I'm poking cattle just to get him to keep up with the nurse. So he complains about how I'm pushing him and I tell him to get a move on. We get to his allotted curtain area and I head for the wheely padded stool-type chair next to the wall and he jumps up on the gurney and instead of sitting there on the edge like most people, he gets all the way on, lays back and stretches out and puts his hands under head. *rolls eyes*
The nurse starts hooking him up to the all the gizmos, and he's been to the doctor so little, he has no clue what he's supposed to do, so there I am prompting him "She needs your hand, she's putting that doo-hicky in your finger" "open your mouth, that's a thermometer" and the doo-hickey in his finger suddenly becomes a robotic finger of some sort, which he's waving around. The nurse gets all his information and leaves and he folds his fingers over his stomach and closes his eye and I start to read.
That lasts for thirty seconds before he starts singing. I told him to rest and he said he couldn't and I said he didn't try hard enough and he said he was bored. He tells me to read to him, so I tell him I had a book called Mrs Tiggy Wiggy by Beatrix Potter on there and he has fun making fun of the name Mrs Tiggy Wiggy until I pull it up and realize it's Mrs Tiggy Winkle, which he feels is infinitely better because it doesn't rhyme. So I open it up and start to read it to him, but he assures me emphatically that he was joking, and he didn't need to hear about Mrs Tiggy Wiggy and I said it's Mrs Tiggy Winkle and he said he didn't need to hear about her either. So I got out of that book, pulled open another one and began "Once Upon a Midnight Dreary, while I pondered weak and weary over many a quaint and curios volume of..." and interrupts and says he's NOT in the mood for depressing and morose or creepy, and that he was JUST JOKING about me reading to him. So I get out of The Raven by Poe and pull up another book and get two sentences in about the Admiral Benbow when First Son interrupts and says "Mom, I've already read that one!" but I keep reading for a few more sentences anyway just to annoy him.
By now, I'm in a *really* silly mood, and First Son's bad English accent that he'd adopted for his arguing wasn't helping any. So the doctor shows up and looks at the bruise and pokes him a few times and says that they don't even do X-Rays for this kind of injury because small hairline fractures won't show up on one, and that they diagnose it as (and he insterted airquotes here) clinical fracture or (more airquotes) clinical bruising, and that you treat it the same way.
If it hurts- don't do it.
rotfl!!!! He said he'd write a perscription for some pain meds, and to use Ibuprophen and he assured First Son that he would be in massive, terrible pain the morning. And that he'd get three weeks off school... just kidding!!! which made First Son lament the fact that he was homeschooled and so even if the doctor HADN'T been joking, it wouldnt' have applied to him. But then it occured to him "Wait... do I have to go to Seminary tomorrow morning?" which I told him that if he was hurting really badly, no he didn't have to go. But then he narrowed his eyes and said "If I miss Seminary, does that mean I'll miss the dance tomorrow night as well?" in which I assured him that yes, if he was in too much pain to go sit in a classroom, he'd be in too much pain to go *dancing*. So that's when I knew he'd make it to Seminary today if he had to crawl.
The nurse showed up with the perscription for Vicoden and the discharge paperwork, but she wanted to take his vitals one last time (don't ask me why, they don't usually do that) so she starts hooking him up to the machines again and I'm making silly comments to him, and he's shooting imaginary targets with his robotic finger "ptchoo! ptchoo ptchoo!" and we're both snickering and the nurse is trying not to laugh at us. You'd think we'd been drinking or something the way we were behaving.
We finally got out of there close to 9pm. So. Yeah. That's my ER story from last night.
First Entry!
This very first entry happened yesterday, and another member of the Fluffy Bunnies (go look at my "about me") told me I needed to save it for my blog that I was thinking about. This stems from being the only woman in a household of 8 (including the dog) and not being incredibly feminine myself.
So I got into a mood yesterday and painted my fingernails. When I walked out of my bedroom, the boys notice and Second Son (14 yrs) says "But... that's so *girlie*." And I had to tell him "That's because I'm A GIRL!"
Sheesh.
And then I was reading a book to Fourth Son (3yrs), who interupted and put his finger on my barely dried nail and asked "Whas dat?" and I said that I colored my nails and he says "Is owee." And I said, no, it's just paint and he said "It hurt." He never did believe me that I didn't have an owee.
So I got into a mood yesterday and painted my fingernails. When I walked out of my bedroom, the boys notice and Second Son (14 yrs) says "But... that's so *girlie*." And I had to tell him "That's because I'm A GIRL!"
Sheesh.
And then I was reading a book to Fourth Son (3yrs), who interupted and put his finger on my barely dried nail and asked "Whas dat?" and I said that I colored my nails and he says "Is owee." And I said, no, it's just paint and he said "It hurt." He never did believe me that I didn't have an owee.
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