Country Girl

I think that after seven years of living in the country, I am finally becoming a country girl – as evidenced by the fact that my body is shifting into daylight savings time before the calendar! I’ve been waking up progressively earlier as the days grow longer (although, in all fairness, this may be due to the two roosters who are crowing progressively earlier as the days grow longer . . .)

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Here’s a couple of bonus kid quotes from today:

Isaac and Elaina, three year old cousins, are playing in the living room. Isaac, in all innocence, says to Elaina: “Let’s go sleep together!”

Hannah was helping out today by dishing out cheese and crackers while I finished up a sewing project. Suddenly I hear her announce, “Everybody back up, I’m going to cut the cheese!”

My Big Readers

Tonight I had another cockle-warming moment ♥: Hannah was sitting on the couch with the hymnal on her lap, singing the hymns as she read them. This, to me, is huge – she can read fast enough that she can keep up with her singing, and she can read well enough that she can sing the correct tune at the same time. That is so cool!!!

Sam is taking a big step in his reading, too. He’s always been hesitant to take up a book and read it on his own (not that he can’t, just that he’s not motivated) but we finally found a series that he loves – Hank the Cowdog. He’s read two of the books in the last three days. I’d say those are a winner! (Of course, I did have to prime the pump on that one by reading the first book in the series – with authentic(ish) Texas drawl, of course!)

Naomi is coming along well, too, although I can’t think of any major jumps she’s taken recently. I am always amazed at how easily she reads, though, as if it comes naturally to her! She’s had a much easier time than her siblings (not that either of them had any real trouble).

And of course, since Elaina is turning three on Sunday, it’s about time I started reading lessons with her, too . . . You know, I’ve done this three times already, so why am I so nervous????

There oughtta be a law . . .

I hereby decree that no one may listen to “The Long Winter” (from the Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder) between January and April. It is just too depressing.

Gifts from the Grandmas

According to popular legend, grandmas were once moms, responsible for seeing to the welfare of children of their own. Even though I vaguely remember my own mother filling this role, I am beginning to doubt that this could be true. How could anyone who has raised children have this kind of lapse of judgement (or, on a more sinister note, how could anyone be so cruel to a poor, overworked mother of five?)

It all started in January, when Peter’s mom brought up the kids’ Christmas presents and stockings, as well as Naomi’s birthday present (we hadn’t been able to see her for Christmas, and she wouldn’t be able to come up again for Naomi’s birthday). My first inkling that the popular belief must be wrong was when I saw that ALL of the kids got a box of crayons in their stocking. I tried to be understanding; maybe Peter hadn’t given her the memo that crayons were forbidden in our home, and most parents don’t feel the same dread of them that Peter and I do. I let it go - I could take them away later when she’d gone; I could hide them and only get them out for special occasions – I wasn’t sure; I’d do something. In the meantime, I made a pile of them on the kitchen counter, well out of Josiah and Elaina’s reach, and went on with the festivities.

That very afternoon, after she’d gone home, I walked around the corner in the kitchen to find Naomi (my sweet Naomi! Who would have thought it of her???) writing on the fireplace:

Obviously, our fears were well-founded. The crayons are no longer in our home.

Then came Naomi’s birthday, and we opened another gift from grandma: a set of about 24 gel paint pens. That same fear settled into my gut, but again I told myself I could keep them under control. For about a week, things went well. We got them out when the babes were napping, we had a great time making pictures with them, and all was good. Then disaster struck. Unthinking, I had put them on a shelf in the girls’ room, and then put Elaina down for a nap. Oh, what a fool I am! When Peter went in to get her from her nap, there she was sucking on the pens, with paint all over her clothes and the wood-patterned linoleum floor:

Not to be outdone, my own mother visited on Monday and brought Naomi and Elaina their birthday presents. My heart nearly stopped when Elaina unwrapped a lovely plastic bottle filled with – oh, the horror! – intricate layers of colored sand. And - even better - the only thing keeping the sand in the bottle was a little white screw-off top.

I don’t think I need to tell you what happened the next morning. Apparently Elaina thought the sparkling blue sand would go well with the green paint on her bedroom floor. Suffice to say I have a vacuum full of sand and a lovely – empty - plastic bottle:

Oh, and I almost forgot: Peter’s mom also gave the kids “moon sand” for Christmas (apparently all of the grandkids got some, much to their parents’ horror). This is still safely hidden in the cupboard above the fridge – although now I am beginning to doubt that it’s safe even there. That familiar fear is settling in the pit of my stomach – excuse me while I go dispose of that before it’s too late . . .

Appliance Anthem

(Note: Kirsten made me post this!)

Handmaidens of health, handy helpers:

Bosch, dish de-dirtier, save my splitting skin from savage suds;

Breadman, branful baker, raise reluctant risers to whole wheat wholesomeness;

Osterizer, savvy spinner, blend butter from uncultured cream, and also, to please Peter, mix margaritas and grind grasshoppers;

Salton, yogurt yogi, assist the acidophilus that tends to tender tummies;

West Bend sisters, rice and slow cookers, make my meals so I may mind my midgets;

Al Dente, pasta presser, recent recruit, shape spaghetti and form fettuccine to the fascination of my family -

But there is one more wonderful than all - mighty mixer, muffin maker, dough driver, whipped cream creator, waffle wonder, instigator of innumerable incomperable inventions - capable Kitchen Aid, crafter of countless cravable creations, constant companion, bereft of your beneficent blending, forming food would be futile, and I would immediately yield to inadequacy.

You Go, Girls!

Cue the fanfare, throw the confetti, shoot off the fireworks – we got eleven eggs from our eleven hens today! Woohoo!

(Of course, four of those were broken when Sam slipped on the ice bringing them in – but it still counts!!!)

Hooray for my Hens!

Poor Peter

A couple of weeks ago, Peter wrote “Enjoy Your Kids ” on my to-do list on the white board. It’s been very encouraging, and helped me keep perspective when I got frustrated. This morning when I looked at my list, though, I had to laugh. This is what I saw:

Now, in Peter’s defense, it has been a tough weekend. The kids and I have been taking turns being sick since Tuesday, and Friday was my turn, so Peter had to play Mr. Mom all weekend while I was recovering, including taking care of a very sick baby and children in varying stages of recovery. Of course, the kids who weren’t sick yet were sick of being hushed and stuck indoors because their siblings were sick, and were bursting at the seams with repressed energy.

All of this combined to make Peter a very frustrated man. Thus the note.

*I should mention that Peter did an excellent job taking care of us, including doing a deep cleaning of the bathrooms (I think I’ve mentioned his feelings about germs before . . .) and all of the laundry. All the same, I think he’ll be glad to go to work tomorrow morning!

Homeschooler’s Dilemma

We had to stop for lunch this morning before the kids had finished their homework, and then run off for Phy Ed class, and then when we got back this afternoon I got a phone call so I didn’t get on the kids to finish their school right away. When I finally had a chance to get back to it, I found Hannah and Naomi playing chess (Naomi was winning) and Sam engrossed in Usborne’s History of the World. So the question is, do I make them stop their “fun” to do their “work” or do I just let it slide and say we’ll finish their regularly scheduled homework tomorrow?

You’re right, that really isn’t a serious question.

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When we got back from Phy Ed, I had to put the babes to bed right away, so I asked if one of the kids would go check for eggs for me. Naomi, as usual practically jumped up and down with willingness to help (she’s so sweet!) while her older brother and sister shrugged it off and headed for their toys. So while I was singing lullabies, Naomi trucked outside for me. A minute after Elaina was down, Naomi came back in, and I went to check out what she’d found.

Mom: “How many eggs, Naomi?”

Naomi, with a slight sniff: “There were five (sniff) but three were wrecked (here the real tears started) and when I was coming back, the two that were left (I could barely make this out) broke when I slipped on the ice!”

Sure enough, when I went out to check on things, three eggs sat in the nest box, with holes pecked in them (grr!) and two more sat on the sidewalk in front of the house, cracked. Poor Naomi! She tries so hard!