Just a verse and a chorus, please.

This child- this bright eyed ginger child- may be the death of me one of these days.  The walking, the reaching new things, the rotten "I have something I shouldn't!" scrunched up shoulder run.  He may just be the death of me.  Even with all this new found mobility, though, he's still a mama's boy.  Several times a day, he comes to check in with me.  He toddles over and tries to climb up me, no matter where I am.  I scoop him up an he presses his face into my neck, and his soft squishy body into my arms, and I can almost hear him say "just a verse and a chorus, please."  So I sing to him, and then he's ready to tear up the world for another hour or two.  Then he comes to check in again, and we sing and snuggle for another verse and chorus more.  Someday, I know I'll be chasing him asking "oh Rotten, just a verse and a chorus, please?"  so I try to soak it all in while I can.  

Salt Water Cure

"The cure for anything is salt water- sweat, tears, or the sea." - Isak Dineson

We'd alread had more than enough of the first two for the day. So I threw the boys on the car, even if to hear the screams echo off any surface other than our home.

Rotten first started noticing animals at the zoo maybe a month or two ago. Recently, he's started showing a preference for ducks. The pond at Pt. Defiance Park has a good-sized flock, and he will just stare at them, then clap excitedly, and (see above) try to catch them from his stroller. His first birthday will be duck-themed.

Stinky, going against his nature, wanted to sit very still "so the ducks will be by me" and it worked! A few minutes later, a female mallard came and sat in the sunny patch to the left of him in the picture. We've been reading Make Way for Ducklings so he decided she was Mrs. Mallard.

Next, we drove to Owen Beach, where Rotten and I disagreed about the edibility of pebbles for most of our time there. Eventually, I got him to clap when I'd make one splash in the water.

Stinky spent most of his time working on a raft consisting of three pieces of driftwood. He managed to balance himself on it, but it sank every time. Our troubles were cured, at least temporarily, because they were hungry and sleepy when we got home, and I got some peace, at least until dinner time.

uh-uh

Rotten decided I shouldn't shower alone

It is morning and I am watching Rotten crawl to all the 'uh-uh' places. The spots where he pauses and waits for my response. On hearing the 'uh-uh,' he chuckles, but moves to the next 'uh-uh'. Later, when he is tired, 'uh-uh' will not be met with a giggle, but with a head-thrown-back cry that can only be interpreted as "you never let me do ANYTHING!" but the morning giggles are a sweet way to start the day.

Sunday Inspiration

Clyde, protecting our refuge.

We need to make our homes a place of refuge from the storm, which is increasing in intensity all about us. Even if the smallest openings are left unattended, negative influences can penetrate the very walls of our homes.

L. Tom Perry

I Made it Monday: Father's Day Ties

We've started a new tradition for Father's Day. I took Stinky to choose fabric for a new tie for WBH. Stinky chose the brightest dinosaur fabric he could find, explaining "because my daddy's favorite color is blue, and he teaches me about dinosaurs." I got enough fabric to create matching ones for both of the boys, too. I think they were the best looking guys at church.

I used the Little Boy's Tie and Father's Day Tie, both at PurlBee for Stinky and WBH's, and I just sort of winged Rotten's. It was probably 4 hours of work but totally worth it, and a sewing machine is only necessary for a very small part of it. If you try it out, let me know, I'd love to see them!

shared at 733, Raising Memories

This week:

Oh, Blogger. Sometimes you make me sad. Sometimes you eat up my posts and then I have to write them all over again. Thanks for only eating half of this one, today.

This weekend was so busy, but so nice. The weather was stunning, temperatures were perfect. We heard about an activity put on by the zoo at a local beach- so Swe walked the beach with a naturalist, helping to catalog the sea life there. We mostly saw barnacles, but also saw the leather sea star that Stinky's petting above, and a hairy helmet crab. We hear about this at Sounds Fun Mom, which is a great resource if you live the South Puget Sound area. She lists events several times a week, so you may want to subscribe. After an hour of listing animals, Stinky decided he was done, and introduced himself to a group of siblings, and played with them for the rest of our stay at the beach. I spent that time making sure Rotten didn't eat every rock he could get his hands on, much to his displeasure.

Later that night, WBH and I chaperoned Prom. Like his suit? We were at the EMP, so we got to visit all the exhibits while we were there- Nirvana, Jimi Hendrix, and Battlestar Galactica all had displays. I played Joan Rivers with another staff member's wife, critiquing dress choices, and WBH joined a dance circle. We've chaperoned 7 proms now, making this the tenth prom I've attended. Fun as it might be to go get a formal dress and all, I'm glad I don't have to be a teenager again. Though the picture doesn't show it well, my hair was rocking that night.

We only made it through the first hour at church on Sunday- neither child cooperated for more than that, and were both put down for naps the moment we got home. Later that evening, we went to the birthday barbecue for WBH's co-worker. Stinky and Rotten both enjoyed swinging in their hammock- which is, coincidentally, what WBH is getting for his birthday and should be arriving sometime today.

Now, it's back to life as normal. I've been trying to get our house in order for the last few days, but my children's attitudes have made it a challenge. Wish me luck as I try to get my ducks (and ducklings) in a row today!

the trip I did not take- and why this one is so much better

You are the trip I did not take.

You are the pearls I cannot buy.

You are my blue Italian lake.

You are my piece of foreign sky.

-Anne Campbell

Recently, WBH and I found ourselves a little wistful for the times before kids, before giant dog, before mortgage, when we could say "Hey, we've got some spare cash and nothing to do this weekend. Let's go!" Not that we would trade them for the world, mind you, but it was nice when we could. I don't think we appreciated that time enough, and how many options we had. Choosing parenthood very abruptly limits your options, it's true, but it also throws open a door to so many new experiences.

Stinky has learned to climb a tree. Having seen older relatives doing so, he decided he wanted to try, and once he was in it without my support, he loudly declared "I did it! I climbed a tree" His feet were maybe two feet above ground, but he might as well have been flying, as proud as he was. Rotten is now crawling at full speed. He watches for the forbidden things (an open door to the back room, cords, dropped food) to appear, then takes off as fast as he can, looking over his shoulder to see if we're coming, giggling hysterically and picking up speed when he sees that we are. Oh, and he climbs, too, which is terrifying.

These experiences that might have seemed mundane before my children experienced them, are nothing short of miraculous now. It's like Dorothy opening the door of her Kansas home into Tecnicolor Munchkinland. Parenting my boys is, without a doubt, a trip to a new world. So, while I love Ms. Campbell's poem, I'd like to add a few new stanzas:

You are the nights we cannot sleep,

The showers we can't take alone.

You are the laundry piled so deep,

The noise that makes this home.

You are the trip we did not take

So we could take one better.

What good is some Italian lake

If we're not there together?

This Month in Pictures

I am working on that old blog post, the one where I talk about how much I love my children. Today, however one of them is full of bad choices and the other is teething big time. How about we just look at some nice pictures instead? Here are some of my favorites from this month:

I got to enjoy my first Mother's Day Tea. It made me a little weepy to think that I get to do that now, and that my boy is old enough to have them with me. Stinky's teacher did a lovely job with it.

The weather warmed up enough to enjoy the beach and Rotten developped a love for swings.

We got a free date night, tickets courtesy Tealah and thanks to my little sister who watched the boys. In fact, we have dates planned for the next two weekends. Crazy.

We spent time with family before Middle Sister left for her mission, including a trip to the zoo.

Stinky learned about car maintenance with his dad.

Today was Stinky's last day of preschool for the year. It was a little sad- some friends from the last two years won't be back next year, though we hope to see them at the play time at our house this summer. It's also a reminder that he's only got one more preschool year left before he's off to Kindergarten. Wow. I'll think about that tomorrow.

Impromptu Family Photo Shoot

We attempted to attend a friend's piano recital last weekend. We made it through three songs before we realized that it just wasn't a place for the kids- not that they were bad. His beautiful piano performance just didn't need a backup singer (Rotten) and dancer (Stinky). Fortunately, the campus we were on was beautiful, and we took the chance to take some pictures around the music building.

Parenting 505

Earlier this month, our church held it's semi-annual general conference. Twice yearly, the leaders of our church broadcast messages via sattelite- for us this means that we gather at my parents for pancakes, gummi bear conference bingo, and we get to enjoy church in our jammies. There's usually one or two talks the feel like they're aimed directly at me. I know that for many other moms, this year that talk was the one that referenced "Parenting 505." In this talk, Lynn G. Robbins said:

"A sweet and obedient child will enroll a father or mother only in Parenting 101. If you are blessed with a child who tests your patience to the nth degree, you will be enrolled in Parenting 505. Rather than wonder what you might have done wrong in the premortal life to be so deserving, you might consider the more challenging child a blessing and opportunity to become more godlike yourself. With which child will your patience, long-suffering, and other Christlike virtues most likely be tested, developed, and refined? Could it be possible that you need this child as much as this child needs you? "

This talk has been on my mind frequently since it was given. Stinky has been a Parenting 505 kid this year in particular. Then I think about it more, and I don't know a single parent who doesn't feel like they're muddling their way through 505, even those whose children are adults now.

Most days, I feel so blessed that I get to be a mother, and specifically, Stinky and Rotten's mother. I watch our family and other families, see how their dynamics work, and I think about how they work with the personalities their children came with, and how each child seems to be so perfectly placed within their families- I don't know how anyone can fail to see a Divine Hand in that.

When I think about the way that my boys have shaped me- like putting a rock through a tumbler, polishing me by rolling me around in a mess of sometimes abrasive circumstances- I know that they were meant to be our children, and WBH and I meant to be their parents. I reject the idea that our family is mere coincidence. The gravity of knowing that makes the responsibility that much more fantastic and real to me.

a really. good. day.

Spring Break was so busy, it seems like it was here and instantly gone. We took a day trip with my mother and sister into Seattle on Friday, to the Science Center and to the fountain.

Stinky took his camera on the trip, too, and it kept him busy in the crowd at the butterfly house.

Ultimately, the science center was so crowded that we left early to picnic and play near the fountain. Stinky and I played tag.

While Rotten napped in the gorgeous spring weather

Being there in the sunshine turned Stinky into '50 degree shirt's off guy' stating "I'm going to take off my shirt and run into the fountain . That's my decision, guys" WBH got this picture at the one moment he held still:

We drove the long route home, where we could watch paragliders floating down and Stinky said quietly, "Mom, this was a really. good. day. "

A Morning Person?

I am not a morning person. I have never claimed to be, even when I had a job that started before 5 am. My energy peak comes right about 7 pm- that's when I feel like my drive shows up and I can really get to moving. I like to ease into my mornings- breakfast and a Diet Dr. Pepper while I check my e-mail and facebook. Then I get dressed and feel a little more human. Rotten, in one of the rare moments in which he lives up to his name, is very much a morning person, and it's a struggle for me. I love seeing his smiles in the morning when we wake up, but the ecstatic, bouncing laughter that seems to declare "It's a new day! I have such plans!" is a little off-putting to this bleary-eyed mommy whose night time energy was spent sketching up garden plans in bed. Then again, I look at that face, and watch him bounce with joy for everything- seeing his brother (a night owl like me) and me for the first time each day, and it's a little less obnoxious.

Where Did I Go?

Please pardon the absence. It's been a busy few weeks around here. We made a April Fool's Day dinner for WBH, with Orange Jello Slices, Meatloaf Cupcakes and Spaghetti for dessert. This one is almost crawling. It's fascinating, thrilling and terrifying all at once.

We took a field trip and rode a ferry...

...and put our toes in sand, wishing for warmer weather soon.

WBH is on spring break, and we're keeping busy. Back next week.

Is spring popping up in your neck of the woods? Around here, it still feels like November to me. I'm hoping it will ease up on the rain soon so we can plant our garden. I'm craving fresh spinach and snap peas.

slow down, you move too fast

Rotten:

has my dad's eyes, especially in this picture.
was so angry with me until I took him to play where the other children were.
put his toes in Puget Sound for the first time today.
started signing the word "more" for more food.
will eat almost anything put in front of him.
is seven months old today.
is breaking my heart with how fast it all happens.

Lucky

I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend

Lucky to have been where I have been

Lucky to be coming home again

I'm lucky we're in love every way

Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed

Lucky to be coming home someday

Winter Joy (or not) no. 14

scooting. (oh, crap)

A Letter to my Sons

Boys, there is something I want to make sure you know beyond doubt, and that's how much I love you. I love you more than I love Mountain Dew and Diet Dr. Pepper. I love you more than I love sleep. I love you more than I love those frozen chunks of Strawberry in Dreyer's Ice Cream. You will soon know that I love those three things almost more than life itself. I hope that if you know I love you even more than those three things put together, then maybe you'll have an inkling of how much I love you.

You were prayed for in a way that sometimes makes me wonder if God sent us spirited children because we annoyed him. We went through hard and sometimes scary pregnancies and c-sections to get you here, and those round the top things I've ever done with my life, joining marrying your dad. I am so grateful to be the mother, the person you've made me.

Someday you'll understand the beautiful gift wrapped up in guilt that is parenthood. See, I'm still waiting for my magical cloak of knowledge to fall on my shoulders, but until then... guys, I'm winging it. Unfortunately, sometimes in all this trial and error, I really blow it. I lose my cool or interfere when I should step back. I sleep too late, then let you watch too much TV or forget that your diaper needs changing until you've blown out the sides. I forget that it's lunchtime until halfway through church and you're acting up and I don't know why.

For all my flaws, my screw ups, the ways that I can really drop the ball, I hope I get more things right than wrong. I see glimmers of hope for that in Stinky's creativity and affection for his little brother. I see it in the way Rotten screams/cries/laughs with relief when he sees me after being watched by someone else, or collapses into sleep in my arms the minute someone hands him back when he's screaming. I hope that I have something to do with those things. Then again, maybe I just got lucky.

Maybe someday you two will commiserate that it's a miracle you made it out alive, but I'm crossing my fingers that stays my little secret.

... and to all a good night.

Our family wishes you and yours the best Christmas weekend. May your gift making hands not be sore, may your children's sugar highs wear off without any tears, and may you sleep, sometime very soon, in heavenly peace.

The Tiny Dictator: a poem by Rotten

Don't let the cute face fool you- he's a tyrant.

Rotten's been working on making me lose my mind lately. A little of the "not going to eat, sleep, or stop crying- you figure out what's wrong, lady" really goes a long way to making me lose my sanity. The other morning, in an effort to relieve some tension, I wrote this. Enjoy.

I do not like to be put down,

Not on a blanket on the ground.

I do not like to go to bed.

I'll scream until my face is red.

Please don't give me to my brother,
I fear that more than any other.
And please, don't put me on the couch.
I'll give a headache; you'll say 'ouch.'

I must not be put in my swing,
a swing is simply not my thing.
You must not hand me off to Dad,
I freak right out, that makes him sad.

So, to prevent many tears
let me make this very clear:
I must always be held by Mom
if you hope to keep me calm.

Although she knows it's just a phase,
(she fears will last 'til end of days )
when she looks like she might cry,
probably best not to ask why.

Don't ask about the unwashed hair,
unshaved legs, or for clean underwear
or why pj's stay on 'til noon,
or why she hasn't cleaned her room.

I can't let her think of all that stuff.
Sometimes, it gets a little rough
For she must meet all my demands.
Tiny dictators must be kept close in hand.

Week of Thanksgiving: Brothers

When we went in for the mid-pregnancy ultrasound, I was sure that our baby was a girl. I would have put money on it. When the ultrasound tech told me there was no doubt, this was another boy, I was shocked for a moment, and then I thought "brothers!" Then I cried like a baby, but good tears. I love the way that Stinky looks out for his little brother. I love that Rotten laughs and smiles at him in a different way than he does for anyone else. It's almost conspiritorial, and I know it should scare me. I'll worry when Rotten is mobile.