Family Pictures

We just took a trip to Utah and of course we had to stop at the tree where Joel and I were engaged.  We took our annual family photos.  One of these days I will hire someone to meet us out there so we can get some really high-quality shots, but that year was not this year.  

The pictures turned out pretty well even so (well enough to go on the wall without much embarrassment, anyway).

It is fun to see how our family changes every year.  The kids get a little taller and we keep adding little ones to the group.

Joel and I still like each other.  Woohoo!

The boys still love to be funny.

The girls still love to be buddies.

And the kids still get along pretty well.  

There are definitely some important photographic techniques I am lacking, but it is fun to mark time passing in this way!

James and (some of) His Quirks

James at 2 1/2 is hysterical.  He makes us laugh multiple times daily.  He is highly observant, strong-willed, extremely determined, and exceptionally verbal, so you can imagine some of the funny things he says.  (But don't worry, I'm going to drone on for a while anyway.)

James right now is very interested in justice.  For instance, he keeps track of how many turns people have, and how many turns he has had, and how many more turns he deserves in order to be equal.  I constantly hear, "But Ashley got to do such-and-such," or "Then why did William get another turn?"

If James understands the reason for a rule, or at least is resigned to it being non-negotiable (James resigning without a fight to anything he doesn't feel is important is a rare occurrence), he follows it to the end.  He hasn't had a door to his bedroom for the past three weeks and has generally done just fine staying in his bed.  

But if he does not agree with something he is made to do, he sure lets everyone know.  Just after he turned two, James decided he was old enough to walk through the grocery stores.  I decided that he is not old enough.  Despite my reminding him in very age-appropriate ways before entering any store that he could not walk by himself, James would spend the entire time in the store crying loudly in the cart due to the injustice of it all.  I patted him gently and tried to speak soothingly to him and we gathered all of our groceries amidst the yelling.  Many friendly people gave me encouraging looks and occasionally said things like, "Oh, it's ok, I have bad days too."  What I didn't say in return is that I am so used to that noise I was tuning it out completely.  (Some people probably gave me dirty looks, but I must have tuned them out too.  It's a gift, what can I say?)

James is always interested in how things work.  He knows names of obscure dinosaurs, uses words like "sea creatures" and has taught himself the entire alphabet song even though I'm an awesome mother and never sing it.  There is a lot going on in that little head of his and we all love seeing the bits and pieces that come tumbling out.

It isn't all sunshine and daisies, though--tucking James into bed has been an adventure.  I have to use reverse psychology, and I have had to for almost a year.  If I ask, "what song do you want me to sing?"  James will insist he wants no song.  If I try to put his blanket on him, James will shove it away.  But I have to bring it up or I will never get out of there.  So this is what the exchange usually looks like:

"James, what song would you like?"

"I don't want a song!"

"You mean, no thank you."  

(Silence.)

"It's ok.  I don't have to sing you a song.  I can  just go back downstairs.  Goodnight."

"No!  I want you to sing me a song!"

"Oh, well then which one would you like?"

James grumblingly tells me a song, I sing it, and he goes to sleep.  He usually sleeps all night with no problem, then wakes and demands breakfast.  He is not too big on dinner so the low blood sugar and hunger pangs make for some very bipolar mornings with that child.  

He wants cereal, but he doesn't know what kind, and he doesn't want to decide.  But if someone tries to choose for him, the answer to any choice is always No.  He doesn't want to be held but he also doesn't want to sit by himself.  He doesn't want to pick a cup to drink out of, but he doesn't want anyone else to choose, either.  What usually ends up happening is that we choose some things for him while he is collapsed pathetically on the floor (crying into his Moose, of course), and tell him gently that when he is ready, he can eat what is on the table for him.  If he wants to choose something else, he is more than welcome to, since he can reach all the necessary things himself.  And, if he decides to ask nicely for help, we will help him.

After a few minutes of being upset, James usually comes around and shows his sweet side once again.

James had his first nightmare just after his second birthday, at least as far as he has reported to us.

He woke up in the middle of the night one night and was very upset when I tried to leave his room.  This is uncharacteristic of him so I knew something was wrong.  I held him and rocked him and sang some songs with him, then finally I asked gently, "James, are you scared?"
"Yeah," James replied in a sad voice that broke my heart.  I asked him what he was scared of, and he told me, "My room."
"What are you scared of in your room?"
"I'm scared of the dark in my room."
"Is there something in the dark that scares you?"
"A Monster."  So we looked in his closet and under his bed and around the room and he was happy to see that there was no monster.  He went to sleep and I didn't hear from him for the rest of the night.

The next day he was filled with tales of the Monster in his room, so I gave him a word for what happened to him the previous night:  A dream.  How do you explain the concept of a dream to someone who just turned two, and who feels his experience was as real as any awake experience?  I don't know.  But I do know that James seemed consoled when I explained that he had a dream while he was sleeping, and that dreams are just pretend.

James had more details for me once he was away from the dark night.

"I unlocked the door and there was a monster," he said.
"There was?"
"The monster had mean eyes."
"What did the monster do?"
"He tried to eat me and he tried to eat my Moosie."
"Where did he go?"
"In my closet."

For several weeks after this incident, James told anyone who would listen that there are no monsters, and that monsters are only pretend.  But I think he still wondered and repeated it often to remind himself.

At just-barely-two, James was definitely our most verbal child.  He was even praying on his own-- coming up with the thoughts and expressing them appropriately and everything.  His prayers mostly consisted of a blessing on the food (usually each thing specifically), and a blessing on everyone present.  He loved to squint around the table with one eye open, arms still folded piously, to make sure he didn't forget anyone.

He still prays like that.  It makes me smile every time.


James also has a strongly-developed sense of logic and reason.

One day James was riding his scooter in the street.  I reminded him that he is to stay out of the street.  "But Mommy," he said, "If a car comes behind me, I will just move out of the way and it won't hit me!"

James was about to leave his scooter in the driveway and I reminded him to put it in the garage.  Knowing what I was getting at, James answered "If I put it on the grass, it won't roll away.  See?"  James's solution worked for both of us.

James has a remarkable memory for what I ask him to do--one day I took him to the store with the other kids and he spent the majority of the time making a huge ruckus and running away from me.  He did this while knowing it was against the rules and despite my reminders.  So when we went back to the car, I explained what rules he had broken and that I was going to hold Lightning McQueen and Mater up in the front in time-out.  He could have them back when we got home.  I also told James that because he did not listen to what I was asking of him, he needed to tell me sorry when we got home.

I drove home and as soon as I opened the door on his side James said, "Sorry Mommy," as sweet as can be, with no reminders!

Another day, James found a stash of gum Joel had in the bathroom.  He finished it off.  When I discovered what he had done, I reminded him that it was not his gum.  "It's papa's gum, and you should have asked him first.  When he gets home, you need to tell him you ate his gum."  James was not worried.  "Papa won't be mean, he will be nice!"  As soon as Joel walked in the door several hours later, James came bounding up to him and said, "I ate your gum, Papa.  Sorry!"

When James was barely two years old, he became fascinated with everyone's ages.  He had everyone memorized, even Joel and me.  When my family came to visit for Christmas, he wondered about their ages as well.  As far as I remember, he thought Grandma was eight.  But my adult brother, who is severely mentally and physically handicapped, was cause for confusion.  James studied him for a long time and finally asked, "How old is Nick?  Nick isn't three. . ."  James knew his uncle Nick was a grown-up, but he also understood that that wasn't the whole story.

James decided two weeks ago that he has turned three, and no one can talk him out of it.  (I think he decided this solely because he thinks he can have more to eat based on his age.)  We had friends over recently, one of which was a little girl who just turned three.  Despite this fact, James was convinced that he is older than her.
"(Girl) is little.  She is a little girl."
"James, she is a big girl just like you are a big boy."
"No she's not!  She is a little girl!"  James was calm and congenial but insistent, so round and round we went.  James is physically taller and bigger, so maybe that is what led him to that conclusion.


One interesting thing about James is that he hates to look foolish.  Occasionally one of the neighbor kids will say that James is stinky (my kids have seen enough blow-ups from James to not bother messing with that).  James seems to feel pretty humiliated and gets very upset when people say things like that about him.

But when James feels he has been wronged, no one can cheer him up before he is ready.  If we do something he actually does think is funny, he refuses to let himself smile.  The best we'll get out of him is a trembly, slightly-upturned corner of a mouth.  But as soon as that happens, James turns himself away so we can't see even that.



James really missed Joel this summer when the rest of us were in Utah for two weeks without him.  When Joel finally arrived, James was over the moon.  He did not want anything to do with any of the rest of us.  I was just happy to have a break from diaper changes.  We tried to take family pictures the next day, and James refused to sit by me.  Joel attempted to take a picture of me surrounded by all of my children (who would be gazing adoringly at me, of course), but James would have none of it.  He refused to sit anywhere close to the rest of us.   Instead, he harumphed onto the grass and wouldn't look at any of us.

When we got back into town, I drove somewhere with all the kids and on the way home, they decided who was who's buddy.  James wasn't phased by any of it.  "I'm not your buddy," he'd tell anyone who listened.  "I'm Papa's buddy."  So it has been to my great entertainment that James is still set on this fact almost a month later.  "I'm so glad I am your buddy, Papa,"  I'll say to Joel in front of James.  "No, you are not Papa's buddy.  I am Papa's buddy."  No matter how many times I try that jab, James patiently explains the facts.

And James is still sporting the birthmark on his nose.  He must have overheard me talking about it with someone, because one day he took me in front of the mirror to show me his "bird-mark."  I corrected him and told him it was actually called a birthmark, but he would have none of it.  So it is his birdmark, and it is here to stay.

But that is ok, because it goes perfectly with his "stomach-egg," his goose-eggs, and his favorite saying as of late:  "Firefighter, pants on fire!"  which must make way more sense to a two-year-old than the old, boring Liar, liar version.

Summer Fun

We've had a lot of fun at home this summer.  

We collected all sorts of bugs, leaves, sticks, and one day we even harvested some cat tails.  (Ashley was thrilled).

The kids constantly made grand plans.

Our neighbors have a pool and a hot tub and everything fun, and three girls our kids' ages who are always having their gymnastics friends over.  One day Everett was spying on a pool party with a whole bunch of girls, and I had to take a picture.  He's going to really, really like living next door to them in about six years. . .

But when our kids aren't swimming with our very generous and friendly neighbors who are always feeding us and inviting us over (it's ok; you can be a little jealous), the sprinklers do the job in our yard just fine.

Ashley still doesn't like water in her face, but after a few swimming lessons, she no longer panics when she is in the pool, as long as she has a flotation device strapped to her body.

Her first few lessons with her best friend's dad went pretty well, but Ashley started to get more and more anxious as each lesson came on.  I nudged her every day to go and try because I just want to know that if she fell into water she'd be able to keep herself alive for at least a little while.  One day before her lesson, Ashley had what I can only figure was a panic attack.  She started breathing heavily, trembled with a little bit of a wild look in her eyes, and crouched over the toilet, convinced she was going to throw up.  I helped her get herself together and went to see her off to her lesson.  

She and her teacher, who she knows well, were working on floating.  Ashley could float as long as she had goggles on. . .and was holding onto her teacher's arm (so she really couldn't float at all).  Her teacher's main objective for that lesson was for Ashley to float, let go of his arm for one second, and grab back on.

Ashley couldn't do it.  The moment she let go, her body seized up in panic and her legs kicked out wildly until she was upright again.  

As the minutes slogged by, Ashley grew more and more upset.  I could tell she was on the verge of tears, but she was desperately trying to fight them back so her teacher wouldn't see.  I took Ashley away for a bathroom break, held her for a minute, and asked her if she'd like to end the lesson a little early.  Relief flooded her body.  

She gave the teacher her apologies and we went home.  Poor Ashley is terrified of the water.  After a whole summer of swimming next door, she is now brave enough to go into the deep end (with floaties, of course), so that's progress!

We had the opportunity to have a few discussions about how fears are not really logical (I explained that I am still scared of the dark, even though I know nothing will hurt me), but that sometimes we have to face them anyway, even when it is painful.  I am proud of how brave she was.  I don't think anyone but I knew how difficult it really was for her.

And most importantly, she is proud of herself!

But she is never more relaxed than when her feet are firmly planted on the ground.

As I was taking pictures, William came over with a mouth full of water to spew on me.

But he couldn't do it for all his giggling!  I sure love that kid.  

James loves wrapping himself in a towel and then getting wet.  Make sense?

It must make plenty of sense to him.

Although James thinks he is a "big boy" just like the other kids, he doesn't have quite the stamina they do.  I constantly found him curled up throughout the summer, sound asleep with his beloved Moose.

Sweet little guy.  I never could resist giving those sleeping cheeks a little loving.

Spring Creatures and the Circle of Life

Our kids had a lot of fun this spring with the neighborhood animals.

One day the kids found a bird on our lawn.  It wouldn't fly away.  I don't know if it was injured or very old, or sick, but it wasn't looking great.  The kids were convinced they could nurse it back to health, so they cornered it with a bowl of grass and seeds.

They were worried about an animal getting to it that night, so they gently guided it between the fence post and the fence boards you see by Everett.

The bird didn't respond to much, so I would have been surprised if it had been alive the next morning.  It wasn't.  The poor bird was still tucked safely in the fence but it didn't make it through the night.  After a few tears, the kids understood and just knew it was flying around in heaven.

 And, the kids have a ton of neighborhood rabbits to distract them.  Some of the fuzzy bunnies even started getting pretty enthusiastic with their burrowing.

This burrow appeared overnight in our little playhouse.  We examined it for a while, the kids shoved some vegetables down the hole (because the swarming rabbits obviously aren't getting enough to eat).  Someone shut the door to the playhouse as we left the burrow, and then we watched with amusement as the rabbit came searching for a way back in.  We moved the house and Joel dug out the burrow, and that was the end of that.  

Except it wasn't--several more burrows appeared in our yard before the rabbits must have decided that our yard was not the right place to call home.

But there was a little nest of teeny babies by our fence.  Every time we went outside to play, the bunnies would scatter like ping pong balls from fence to tree to bush and back to the fence.  The kids never tired of chasing them.

Ashley discovered that she loved holding the bunnies.  I discouraged it (obviously, since I was the one taking pictures. . .) and demanded lots and lots of hand-washing.  ("Don't touch anything until you scrub your hands!  No, don't touch that!  And I said don't touch your face!  Actually don't touch anything on your body or anything else, anywhere, ever!  Let me get the door for you!")  But Ashley loves animals too much to resist.  

"Come on little fella," she'd say, "It's ok."  And then Ashley would tell the bunny all sorts of things she thought it ought to be aware of.

One day we discovered the decapitated remains of one of the baby bunnies on the sidewalk.  Everett and William and James were sad, and Ashley was devastated.  They were sure it wasn't an accident.  "Who would do such a thing?" Ashley wondered all day to no one in particular.  It did seem pretty suspicious--a natural predator would not have left the remains behind, and there was no head to be seen.  But the mystery will never be solved.



There are two ponds by our house, and in the spring they are filled with cute little ducklings.  The kids had a lot of fun watching them swim and occasionally wander through the neighborhood, bopping along in a wiggly trail behind the mother duck.

When we went to the ponds one day, we noticed there was a mother duck with two healthy looking babies and a scrawny duckling tagging along.  When it got close to the mother, she'd peck at it until it floated away.  The kids immediately banded together with some friends to rescue the duckling.  It wasn't difficult, and, duckling in hand, they went around to each of their three mothers (including me) to beg for a home to keep the duckling in.  My cold, black heart permitted me from saying yes, but my softie of a neighbor (who loves animals) agreed to bring the duckling home.  It was a win-win for me.  The kids could go visit and I didn't have to worry about maintaining another little life under my roof.

Unfortunately, that duckling didn't make it through the night, despite being set up cozily with a heating lamp and plenty of other comforts.

When my neighbor told the kids, they were all pretty quiet, until Ashley interrupted to ask for another cinnamon roll.

I guess at that point Ashley had gotten used to the way of the circle of life, and I guess it's safe to say this spring has been pretty educational for us all!

William and T-Ball

This spring, William had his first experience with t-ball.  I am not sure if, for the most part, he enjoyed it.  He had times of excitement and energy but he also spent a great deal of time hiding behind Joel or hanging back from the group.

I took plenty of pictures of him one day.  I happened to have the camera with me, and William happened to be extra-excited about the game, which could have had something to do with the fact that I had told him it was his last one.

William really seemed to enjoy hitting the ball, but he was pretty timid.  

His coaches were very friendly and bit by bit, William started to warm up to them.  By the last game, he even looked like he was having fun!

The outfielders all stood in a pack behind a yellow line, and the hitters got to run around the bases without worrying about getting out.  

William was always happy to come running in from the outfield.

I was just glad to see him grinning and running around.

And being pretty silly at times!

There is the William we know and love!

(If you look closely, you can spy some forehead bruises and a subsequent bandaid tan line.  Our William hasn't changed!)

I think the best part of spring sports is having a reason to run around on the freshly revived grass, with warm sunlight dancing through the breeze after a long, cold winter.  

William seemed to feel the same way.

Ashley and Softball

Ashley has hated every sport Joel and I have signed her up for.  She dreaded going, didn't enjoy being there with a team of kids she didn't know, and only the treats gave her just enough motivation to drag herself there.

So I was skeptical about signing her up for softball, but I decided to take a gamble.

It turns out that softball is quite possibly Ashley's thing!

Ashley loved all aspects of the game.

She gave hitting her all.

(Iowa is so windy in the early summer that the wind constantly blew the ball off before the kids had a chance to swing at it!)

She gave running her all.

And Ashley gave throwing her all.

Despite my good intentions, we never really practiced her skills.  And yet Ashley had a knack for it all.  Ashley seemed to not only pick up the body movements pretty well, but really enjoy what her body could do.

Even when those pesky through-the-legs grounders passed her by!

Ashley's favorite outfield position was first base, because the coaches had all the players throw the ball to first base no matter what, and Ashley always wanted a chance to handle the ball.  But her second favorite position was catcher.  The coaches helped the girls bat, so the "catcher" was really just in charge of retrieving the ball after the first baseman's throw.  

And boy did Ashley stay focused on her task.

She kept her eye right on the ball and jumped to catch it.  She never needed to be reminded to pay attention and she was always the first to volunteer when her coaches asked for help.

And that is how I knew Ashley loved this game.  Ashley does not like to focus on anything she doesn't love.  But she gave this game 110%.

And if any of that didn't already tip me off to her enjoyment of the game. . .

The delight and satisfaction on her face each time she played certainly did.

Good job, Ashley!  "I love to see how you love playing," I said each time we went.  And I meant it each and every time I said it.

Ashley starts with a real softball league (uniforms and everything, boo-yah!) in two weeks.  Exciting stuff!