translations

I just love it when kids start using their new language skills. Number 4 has been talking up a storm, but so far, it has all been gobbledy-gook. The only thing we could really make out was "dit-n" for "thank you" and "blabble-lah" for "I would like a milk bottle please mother, dear."

Each night, before I tuck him in, he likes to look at this lighted globe. There are little pictures of animals that are found in each country scattered about. For example, Australia has a kangaroo, a wombat, and some other "creachers" that someone who doesn't have her glasses cannot see. Tonight he was so adorable telling each of the animals good night, the cutest of which was "bat-bo" or "hippo". Finally, he told all the animals goodnight at once, which sounded like "bye bye-dee" (goodnight everybody).

Other cute-isms:
cah = car
bee = please
tee = tree
boot-boo = erm... use your imagination (here's a hint, it belongs in the potty)

Then, there are a few that would actually require that I know how to spell in Swahili. Like, the way he says choo-choo. It actually comes from the nasal passage. Sort of like when you stifle a sneeze.
The sad thing is when he starts talking to someone who doesn't know his little language. And he says the same thing over and over, very patiently. It makes you just want to scoop him up in your arms and hold him forever.

I think this age is wonderful. I love to see them learning...like little sponges, soaking in all the details. And, trust me, he doesn't miss a trick! There is so much about this age that I forgot since #1,2, and 3 were this little. Like, the good morning smile I get each day, which serves as a reward for getting through the day before. God sure knew what he was doing when he created two-year-olds (well, nearly two anyway!).

a riddle

Q: What's big, white, and 6 years old?

A: I don't know, but it's in our driveway!

ps- this actually isn't our driveway,

but is the car we now own.

pss-it drives like a luxury car, only higher

up off the road

no wonder it's called the witching hour

ugh. Not a pretty sight. Last night about 6 pm I'd had my fill of whining, crying, diapers, lost pacifiers, a toddler who wouldn't eat and a baby who couldn't get enough to eat, protecting number 5 from the slings and arrows of number 4. I was trying so hard to be brave and not call King and say "Pleeeeeeze, come home noooooooow!"

But, unlike the "Calgon, take me away!" commercial I wasn't able to stand there right in the middle of chaos and daydream about a bubble bath. Nope. I let out a gutteral yowl like nothing ever heard before. Nothing human even.

Alas, the root of the problem is my frustration in not being able to get out to the gym (why I don't just cancel that stupid membership is beyond me). Before I became pregnant with #5, I would work out several nights a week after hubby came home. A friend and I would go together. Despite the fact that I hadn't lost a single pound in 6 months, I was feeling great and I could do 30 min on the elliptical and walk a mile on the treadmill. I would do the weight machines for my arms and the big yoga ball thing for my stomach muscles (what's left of them after all these pregnancies/c-sections). I enjoyed the time that I worked out not only because I was getting healthy, but because I was spending time with a friend.

I see the weight I need to lose as a huge mountain. I have climbed the mountain before (just before I became pregnant with number 4) and lost 80 lbs. It is a little disheartening knowing I have to go through it again. I have noticed, also, that it is quite a bit harder now that I am 2 months shy of turning 40. I need my gym buddy to call me and say, "Ok woman, let's get off our duffs and get this thing done!" Maybe she heard my groan the other night. She might not have known what it was. (After all, she does live a couple of miles away.) I need to call her and say, "That sound you heard the other night during the witching hour, it was me. I miss ya, girl! Now, get your hikin' boots on and let's rock and roll!"

guess what the cat does when the mice are away?

Numbers 1, 2, and 3 are visiting their cousins this week. I'm sure the feeling of "wow, this is a nice break" goes both ways.

While they are having a blast at my sister-and brother-in-law's, I am blasting each of their rooms. King and I worked on #2/#4's room last night. We started with each of their dressers. We eagerly tossed clothes into the donate pile that no longer fit. Next, I made my way to the toybox. With much internal myrth and merriment I sorted through the "giblets" that for a year have been tossed in there. (This is comprised of stuff like the high bounce balls or plastic toy cars we always seem to attract any time we either go to the dentist or a birthday party.) Finally, as #4 was starting to hit the whiney "dear Lord woman, would you please let me go to bed" phase, I started attacking the closet. When I opened the door, stuff was piled (no joke) waist high. I grabbed another couple of white trash bags and started tossing. "Trash. Donate. Trash. Trash. Trash. Donate." You get the picture.

"Hrm... black dress pants," I said as I could almost see the floor. I think for 4 months now, I have consistently walked into this same bedroom and found them lurking under the dresser, under the bed, behind the toybox... each time I say pleasantly (but with ever-growing firmness in my voice) "Please hang these up in your closet!" I guess I have to give him half-credit (like on an English quiz when you get the answer half right). He, at least, made it to the closet this time. All-in-all, I spent as much time with the closet clutter as I did with the other two locations. The last thing I did before hubby ran me out of there so that #4 could finally get some much needed shut-eye was to strip the bed. When I walked out of the room and looked back to see the progress we made I just smiled.

On so many different levels (purr) this was better than therapy. 1) I got to spend time with my husband doing something productive, together. 2) This room is not only clean, but there are fewer things to be taken out and left lying around. 3) Being the dustiest room in our house, there are fewer dust bunnies to blow out into the hall. Ah, the joys of hardwood floors. 4) Most importantly, it gives me huge pleasure to surprise someone with something wonderful, like, say,... cleanliness. Doing something for someone else is one of those luxuries that I relish. I just can't wait to see the look on each of the kids' faces when they come home this weekend. I know for a fact that no one will remember a bouncy ball with a toy fish inside that was never played with other than right after the dental appointment.

So, THAT is the answer to the question above. Me-ow!

what a bird brain

Today is #1's last day of art class. (sideline: She has really enjoyed this teacher. The first day she came home she said, "He is such a good artist and he is hilarious!" ) On the way to the studio there was a bird's nest in the middle of my lane of traffic. I straddled it at first because I had no idea what that blob was. Once I figured it out I told #1, "Boy, if I am lucky, no one will run over that thing and I will go back and get it." After dropping her off, I doubled back and sure enough, not only was it still there, but everyone seemed to be straddling it as well. I pulled into the nearest driveway, jumped out of the car with a plastic bag and as soon as the coast was clear, I stepped into the road and picked the nest up very gently with the plastic bag and wrapped it carefully. Then I laid it in the front passenger seat.
When I got home, I carefully took it out and inspected it. This bird used mud, pinestraw, strands of wire as well as wire mesh to make this thing. The outer core seems to be made with a mishmash of loosely woven stuff that is a bit dark and dirty, but the inner core is not only tightly woven with some lighter colored strands of some sort but it is also as clean as a whistle.

As a wife and mother I try to pull off the same stunt as this craftful bird. Despite the grunge from the world outside of our nest, I try to have an inner sanctum that is clean, bright, and secure. Yes it is a difficult task. But I happily do it for my little brood. Besides, my little fledglings will be flying on their own soon enough.

priceless

Well, of course we had to rush right out and get a frame for our newest art acquisition. Turns out, I was able to steal a couple of hours - just number 1 and me.

After we got the frame, we went to Applebee's and grabbed a couple of salads. I didn't want us to just sit there staring at each other, so I took this opportunity to pick her brain a bit.

Me: So, have you thought anymore about what you want to be when you grow up?
#1: I'm really thinking I would like to be a Chemical Engineer.
Me: (shocked, but trying to act cool) Oh, yeah, you'd be good at that and I'm sure you'd probably make a decent salary. I wonder, what does a Chemical Engineer do?
#1: I don't know what all they do, but I am pretty sure it has to do with the periodic table. (Pause) Yeah, I think they mostly just memorize the periodic table.
Me: hmm... maybe
#1: There is something else I had wanted to be, but I forgot what it was.
Me: (thinking to myself - "oh, right a stay-at-home mom with no touching brain cells left.... welcome to my world") Hmm, wonder what it was?
#1: I don't remember. (And then making a reference to something she said when she was 3 years old and grinning as if to say "you thought I didn't remember this") Yeah, either that or a pink flamingo.

Reminds me of one of those Visa ads:
Dinner with oldest daughter: $25.00
Possible salary as a Chemical Engineer $50,000
Spending time with this beautiful creature in front of me who is both artsy and smartsy and at the age of three said she wanted to be a pink flamingo when she grew up: priceless

makes a mother proud

Lookie h'yuh what number one just brought home. This is a cathedral in France and only her 3rd day of watercolor lessons. I'll have to find out which one, because every piece of artwork needs a name.... especially when a proud mother wants to frame this kind of thing.