They really must be twins...

Often when I am out with the kids, T and J are assumed by most to be twins.  They are the same height, have the same hair and eye color, and generally look quite a bit alike.  The two of them have developed all sorts of responses to this question/comment (many people don't ask, but simply assume).

Just today, the mom teaching their coop class was introducing them to another mom who was visiting, and said, "And this is T and this is J; good luck keeping them straight!"  And their poor swimming instructor...they have matching swimsuits and both have hot pink goggles.  One can often hear her trying out both names for one girl just to see which gets their attention.

I don't try to encourage this 'twin-like' behavior.  But I don't discourage it either.  I hope they are the best of friends and love each other's company dearly all the years of their lives, but they are two individuals who are really not much alike, underneath, at all. So I do my best to allow them to be however 'twinish' (or not) they desire on any given day.

However, on Monday this idea of occasionally being twins became a bit over the top.  Not to mention dangerous and expensive.

See, there was this post about 13 months ago: Our first trip to the ER.  For the sake of demonstrating just how absurd this is: T and J are almost exactly 13 months apart.

Well, we repeated that incident once again on Monday.  Only this time with J.  Yup, she has four staples in the center back of her head.

She was sitting on a small, low wooden stool using a side table to do her handwriting (she is known for finding odd locations and configurations in which to do most tasks) when she lost her balance and fell back.  It would have been a small bump on the carpet except that a chair had been pushed back and she came back on a corner of the chair leg.  I was in the kitchen (around a corner) making bread when she hollered. 

I will never get over the amount of blood that comes with head injuries.  Dripping all over the floor, down all of her hair, etc. She even had managed to cover a bit of her face with some.  Oh, the amount of ideas one's head suddenly has at a moment like this is rather staggering.  Anyhow, it was a mess, but once I washed her up a bit I saw that it was just like T's and knew we were in for the same treatment.  I also knew I could wait twenty minutes for Ryan to come home and watch the rest of the little ones.

On to the ER J and I went.  The nurse even remembered our family from when we all had come in for T to have her staples taken out.  I suppose there aren't too many groups of six people (only one of those persons being an adult) piling into an ER room with school books and pencils to have staples removed... 

Fortunately for J, the Dr decided to use a topical numbing gel.  T had no anesthetic with hers, but she is a much tougher cookie.  Four staples and a special teddy bear later we were on our way home.

I still can't decide on one thing: Is it simply sad or a blessing from above that we finished paying off our last ER bill (for T's broken finger) this month, just in time to begin another payment plan....

Oh, and did I ever tell you?  T named her bear, which the ER gave her last year, "Staples".  Seriously.

J's bear's name? "Fancy Jane"....don't ask; I don't know...but its things like that which go to show that they really aren't twins.

J turns 4

This post is quite overdue.  Our J turned 4 about three weeks ago.  She and I had our party together (our birthdays are only a couple of days apart) with family about two weeks ago.  We had a good time celebrating J (and myself) while J twirled in her birthday dress, oohed and awed about all of the polka-dot decorations, and everyone ate Chicken Pitas (my choice) with Doritos spicy chips (her favorite).

J is our middle child.  In the middle of the girls.  In between the boys.  Two older siblings, two younger. 

Ryan and I are both the oldest in our family and that being so we often sympathize with the plight of the firstborn.  However, we have learned that the middle child in a larger family has its definite disadvantages.  J has shown us that. 

Most parents struggle with the child that is the most wilful.  Not me.  I was one of those and understand the will and appreciate it to an extent.  J is not a strong willed child; I struggle with how to parent J.  She has a lot of my looks, but is so not like me.  As was recently stated to Ryan and I by a family member, "you guys needed J". 

J is a free-spirit.  She loves "tolka-dots", and I mean loves.  J can put on a dance show without a hint of bashfulness.  She can keep a beat and sing out a tune better than either of her older siblings.  Her giggles are beyond contagious.

We were shocked to discover recently that J can read!  I had not taught her...she just picked it up.  And oh, how delighted she is with her reading talent; her eyes twinkled so bright when she shocked the socks off her grandma the other day.  

J knows what it means to dilly-dally and she is a pro at it!  J and organization are not good friends.  J does not have time for serious role playing.  She prefers flitting around in dress-up clothes and getting dizzy from twirling her skirts. 

When we take a walk she loves running through the breeze, laughing at herself while she tries to go backwards, and then taking our hands to be swung through the air.

Our little J does not like being rushed.  She is in no hurry to grow up.  This is where being a middle is so hard on her.  She wants the assistance, cuddling, and freedom that her younger siblings have.  However, she wants the independence and privileges her older siblings enjoy without the responsibility that comes with that.  This is where I struggle daily at affirming her yet setting appropriate boundaries for her.

Ryan worries about her.  I couldn't say it much better than this picture:

But in case the picture didn't speak a thousand words, I'll fill you in.  You see, two of her birthday gifts were ballet clothes and a nerf gun.  She had passionately requested both.  And she uses them simultaneously.  Yes, she is one of those girls. J can throw a baseball like a boy, take a nerf gun shot like a champ, but be a girly girl, flipping her hair and all, at the same time.

And oh, the funny spunk that one has.  She makes quips that she doesn't even realize are funny.  At our birthday party, I opened up some flip-flops that apparently T had insisted upon giving me, despite Ryan knowing they were not 'Heather' in the least.  As I tried to hide my shock at the style, J says, very casually without hardly glancing up, "Mom you don't have to wear those if you don't want to." The room erupted in laughter.

But the two most precious things about J that I hope to encourage are her gentle sensitivity and her desire to understand the Bible.  I have to remember on a daily basis to talk extra gently to her; her spirit is fragile and I don't want to crush it.  And it astonishes me how she remembers Biblical matters!  On Good Friday we read part of the Easter story and as I got to Jesus's last breath I asked the older three kids what happened when He died.  J quickly and boldly said, "The curtain tore in the temple!" Not what I had expected, but what a joyfull surprise.

May God continue to impress His word upon her heart, teach us how to love her, and direct her paths where He wills!

Happy Birthday J!

Shoe Dress up

Today J and T ventured into my closet for some shoe dress-up fun:

Then M joined in the fun.  At least we can console his dad with the fact that he chose rain boots!

Then again, maybe not....

The Weekend I lost my Children

I count my children all the time.  I don't know what it is about five.  I didn't do this a year ago.  But now, I constantly feel like I may not have them all.  I count grocery cart seats.  I am forever thankful to the inventor of the grocery buses.  You know the ones where I can put a toddler and infant seat up top while my two preschoolers pretend to drive the cart?  They are a blessing from above.  But seeing as how these are not always available I often have to practice counting to five all while grocery shopping.

As I reached the checkout stand on Friday I glanced around and began to count my little ones.  One, two, three, four...where is the fifth?  Wait.  I must have counted wrong!  One, two, three, four...no I counted right!  Where is J?!  I quickly told the cashier I was missing a child and would be back for the rest.  I don't know what she thought; I simply waited for her to acknowledge that she heard me. 

Off I frantically ran, back the way I came.  You know these are times in which one's brain acts as if it is trying to power an entire city, but you really don't care if your hair stands up on end.  I am watching the exit door for my daughter, looking down every isle, and asking people if they saw a child all at the same time (while not waiting for a response unless their eyes light up).  After what seemed like ten minutes, near the ice cream, I found J walking with a woman who was trying to help her.  I don't even know if I thanked this woman properly...I seriously do not remember what I said. I was in a hurry to pick J up and get back to the rest to make sure no more had gone missing. 

Fortunately I loaded my car up with five kids that afternoon.  And I learned I had better stop and pay attention when someone (T) points out popsicles because if I don't, someone, particularly her highly distractable sister, will go and check them out for herself while I take off down another isle.

But apparently I am not counting often enough. 

On Sunday our family went to church, made a stop at the home improvement store, and then came home.  We unloaded our purchases and the children and came inside.  All of the kids were more than hungry so I got down to making lunch in a hurry.  Ryan was putting away things and I asked the kids to pull out plates for lunch. 

Usually about that time M is already in his booster waiting quietly.  It suddenly dawned on me:  I had never asked any of the kids to help him take off his shoes and jacket! I had never even seen him inside! Me: "Ryan, did you bring M in from the car?" Ryan: "No, I thought you did."  Me: "No, I thought you had him".  We exchange looks, raised eyebrows, and a "Ohhhh, that poor boy!"  Never mind that it has been about fifteen or twenty minutes and it is only ten degrees outside!

He was rescued, sniffles and all, from the garage.

So, if you ever see a mom with her nose buried in her list, ingredient checking, or intensely price comparing down to the ounce while her many children try to pass the time dreaming of popscicles, just know that she is the one who goes with the child you saw alone near the bakery. She will be forever grateful!

Curls

Ryan's birthday was a bit ago and we had a nice time with family.  I know, I know...what in the world am I doing writing a post about 'curls' and Ryan?  He wouldn't have a curly hair on his head even if he stuck his finger in a light socket.  No need to worry, his birthday is simply the context and seeing as he is not a huge fan of parties I will make this post about something other than his day.

It happens that his birthday landed on a Sunday this year.  It also happens to be that a few days prior to this Sunday I had made a purchase for the older girls.   Recently I recalled, fondly, how I used foam curlers to curl my hair overnight when I was younger.   The girls have started to ask me to curl their hair on Sunday mornings and I usually don't have time, no check that, I absolutely have no time before church for extra activities. I actually do my make-up in the car most Sundays (mascara and round-abouts do not go together well, just in case you were wondering).  So, I thought these curlers were a great idea.

We tried the curlers and I learned a few things.  T's hair doesn't need much assistance curling.  She gave Shirley Temple quite a 'run for her curls'.  I actually tried to mellow her hair out a bit in the morning. Larger curlers for her next time.  And J's hair is a bit of the opposite, although that is probably due to its very long length.  I will use some product on her hair next time.  Either way, they both seemed to walk on bouncy clouds all day.  It is fun to be able to lead two little girls through some of the joys of being feminine, even if it is not entirely my bent.  Which is probably one reason why God gave them to me.  But I digress...as usual.  So, here are the results of our first attempt.

If nothing else, this is a great excuse to post some new photos that turned out cute.  No, we did not plan for them all to wear red; it just turned out that way.

Don't miss M's tongue in this one!  This is a very appropriate pic for him: anything he can throw in his hands and a goofy look to top it off...just a normal moment for this guy.

Doesn't Z just look thrilled with all of this girly stuff...."can I go help Dad now?"

Fishin' in the Rain

J was loudly singing, Z was trying to shout over her giving instructions as to where the fish were...I hope our neighbors had as good a laugh at this as we did.

Oh, the drama of it all

By: Heather
I was always one to run from drama in my school years.  I see it as manipulation.  And if I smell anything even remotely resembling manipulation you can bet your bottom dollar that I am out that door faster than lightning.  Drama isn't quite the same thing from young kids (usually), but that doesn't change my dislike of it.

See, this is one of the reasons Ryan and I always thought for sure God would give us all boys.  Among the other things that He could have considered were the facts that I love sports, never paint my finger nails, and really don't care for pink or purple much.  I even consider it all joy when Ryan attempts to 'solve my problems'.  I know, this does not sound particularly normal.  Either nature or nurture, that is part of me. But seeing as how God does not very often follow our reasoning, here I sit recovering from a rather 'hysteria filled day', courtesy of two particular girly girls.

I think T stubbed her toe twice today.  Now, I am known around here as a rather acomplished 'toe-stubber' so I know this event is not comfortable.  But really, laying on the floor, hollering like she just got walloped by a baseball bat? And twice?  After the second one I remarked that her feet must be growing (I know, real sympathetic).  She suddenly stops, looks up inquisitively, and says with eyebrows perked, "Why?".  After I explain the connection she pops up, sticks a foot in the air and says, very proudly, to everyone within ear shot, "Look, my feet are THAT big!!"  Mom is now rolling her eyes and shaking her head while T bounces off....

T & J love going out to get the mail.  But I really need to remember when it is windy to go with them.  Otherwise it can be rather embarassing.  The sudden wailing and frantic calling of 'Moooooom' that can be heard from inside, with the doors and windows closed, is enough to propel me out the door without any shoes to chase the wayward envelope.  Down the middle of the street I run until I finally catch up to some bloomin' piece of mail offering a free window replacement estimate, addressed to the former owners!  Up until the precise moment that I catch the flying mail J is still in vocal distress.  Then it suddenly ceases.  Wow, hope the neighbors appreciated that exhibition!

Then there was the ladybug flying around the dining room light at dinnertime (Dad works during dinnertime).  They could hardly sit in their chairs; everytime the bug came anywhere above them they ducked like a jumbo jet was coming in to land on their plate.  And they kept squealing, "Moooommmmm, the bug, the bug, get the bug!!". Meanwhile, I am feeding a hungry, thus cranky, baby her solids and am not interested in taking a break for A LADYBUG.  Mom thinking: "Seriously, children"...But wait, now they are insisting, very distressed like, about how I must save the lady bug from getting burned on a lightbulb.  Mom, in her head: "You have got to be kidding me".

In addition, we had the very dramatic exclamations about M needing a diaper change, RIGHT NOW because of the "really bad stinky!!". Or the curling up in a vertical fetal position becasue I said that the baby dolls had to be cleaned up, never mind it is bedtime and they will want their dolls in bed with them, anyhow. On top of it all T also has a scraped up knee which she insists can not be bent, one may not touch with any fabric, wash at all, etc and this injury recieves about a 2 on the 1 to 10 scraped up knee scale from yours truly.

Most days aren't quite this exciting.  And I know it also could be a lot more intense, we have both family and friends with 5 girls.  Really, I don't know how those Moms do it.  On days like today stopping to talk or play with Z or M is a breath of fresh air!

But most days I really do cherish having girls.  They can't wait for the days in which I paint their finger and toe nails, count the days until Sunday when they can wear their fancy dresses, and dance around the house on tiptoes many times a day.  Both enjoy me doing up their hair nice and like playing with my hair.  It is fun and rewarding to be able to teach them the tasks of cooking, cleaning, etc.  And really, they are helping me enjoy being feminine, just a little bit more. 

We are getting used to the girl thing, slowly.  Why, just last Saturday Ryan actually stopped to browse the 'pink pages' of the first Christmas toy catalog to grace our mailbox!

From the mouth of J

I am sure this will be a recurring title!

As J cuddled close up to a drooling S earlier today, J exclaimed, "Oooooh, S is drizzling this morning!"

Funny item of the week

Last Saturday was cleaning day.  Fortunately both T and J enjoy helping.  They particularly enjoy dusting with me.  I was busy moving some bread into the oven while they decided to move on to dusting the school room/living room bookshelves.  When I came around the corner this is what I saw except that both girls were perched on the arm of the couch trying to reach the next shelf!  What helpers!