Skilz

Mim's new tricks: walking, clapping and running into things.

Superhero-ninja-princess

Can't fault the logic

Lil' girl likes to review the rules.  This conversation took place as I was getting her out of the bath.

Her: "We do NOT hit.  Hitting is NOT nice."

Me: "That's right."

Her: "And swords.  Only other swords.  Not people.  Swords only hit other swords, NOT people."

Me: "Yes."

Her:  "It's not nice to hit people with swords."

Me: "Yes."

Her: "But brothers, brothers we can.  Brothers are not people."

Seven

I'm planning another, longer post about the delight that is having a very active seven-year-old running around our house.

But for now, here are some pictures that seem to embody the essence of this child right now.









He lost his two front teeth, cut his own hair, and wrapped bubble gum around his neck. (Not all in the same day.)

Monkey see, monkey do

Pillow Talk

Our day ended as it always does.  Prayer, cuddle, kiss. . .

Me: "I love you."
Him: "I love you, too.  You should really go to sleep now."
Me: "Yeah. . . . I will."
Him:  "You know the only good thing about you being sick?  The only, ONLY good thing?  YOU LISTEN."

Him being him: "You should go to bed now."
Him being me: "Bed - schmead."

Him being him: "You should eat some meat today."
Him being me: "Your mom eats meat."

Me (trying to talk around the giggles): "Just what you always wanted.  An obedient wife."
Him: "Yeah, right."

See, I have this problem.  The minute someone tells me to do something, I want to do just the opposite.  It is so automatic, I usually can't even help it.  This is one reason I enjoy religion.  Obedience requires a discipline that does not come naturally to me, but I find joy in training myself to do what I know is right, even if someone else told me first.

And for all you rabid-anti-man-feminists out there (as opposed to normal feminists) who are all thinking "How dare he tell you what to do?  Don't you let a man control you!"  I say: "Amen, sister!  How dare h. . . . oh, wait."  So remember a couple of months back when I went on this self-improvement kick and said things to him like, "I really think everyone would be happier if I were getting more sleep. . . but I have such a hard time remembering what time it is. . . could you remind me when it is time to go to bed?" and "Wow.  I feel so good when I'm eating enough protein, but it just never occurs to me.  Will you help me?"

So yeah, even when I ask for help, I won't take it.  Maybe there is a silver lining to me not having enough energy for my attitude.

They're playing our song

Several years ago, as my dear husband and I were preparing for our impending nuptials I realized that we didn't have a song.  So I went through my collection of CD's (remember those?) and found three or four songs that I thought reminded me of US.  I tried to get my then-fiance to pick one with me.  His response? "They are all so. . . cheesy."  Honey, that is what romance IS.

But we couldn't find one that fit, so we were married without "our song."   And what do you know, apparently the sound track is not what makes a happy marriage.

But here we are, coming up on nine years and now we have TWO songs.  Both of which are awesome and perfect for us.

Enjoy.

A conversation in my head - in quotes

"What was God THINKING?!"
 - Grace, Return to Me

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord."
 - Isaiah 55:8

"Does the word 'DUH' mean anything to you?"
 - Buffy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Again?!

I've never really wanted to be someone else, as in take over their life and all that, but there are all kinds of people that I wish I was like.

Right now I'm wishing I was one of those women who waits until the last possible moment to announce that she is pregnant and then comes up with a creative, cute way to make the announcement.

But I'm not her. I am pregnant, though. Only a couple of months along, but the weeks and weeks of vomiting are kind of a dead giveaway. There are a couple of days in there where I don't even know what happened. I know that I managed to crawl downstairs while John got the boys ready for school.  The girls are still alive, so they must have found something to eat. . . judging by the crumbs on the floor, I'd guess crackers.

Fortunately, I have a wonderful mother, mother-in-law and sisters and neighbors and I'm hoping that we're over the worst.  At least, I'm keeping most of my food down most of the time and I'm usually functional for most of the day.  Progress.

It is frustrating though, because I come from a long line of hearty, pioneer women who could plough a field, make soap, have a baby, make new shirts for the other 13 children, and then spend the rest of the day making dinner for neighbors, writing poetry and washing the laundry by hand.  Obviously the apple has fallen FAR from the tree.

And the "morning" sickness is so unpredictable.  I feel like I've become a worshiper in some ancient cult - trying to control volcanoes and monsoons by sacrifices and rituals.  I had five bites of un-sweetened cereal and then took my medicine - I lay down for twenty minutes and then ate some applesauce - I did the rain dance around the fire on the fifth day after the full moon - sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't.  But I still cling to my systems and imagine that I can refine them until I get it just right.  Otherwise I would have to admit that I have absolutely no control  and my world will be devastated or not no matter what I try to do.

During the hours that I feel good, I'm really excited.  We were planning a longer gap between the last baby and the next one (19 months apart!) but I love babies all the time and am looking forward to another of my husband's beautiful spawn offspring.  Plus, I can't wait to meet this little person.  Anyone so determined to join our family that they make it through two forms of birth control is going to be an adventure.

(I tell my husband that he has Chuck Norris sperm - you can't kill it, you can't stop it.  He says I have electro-magnetic eggs that suck everything in.  So we both like to blame each other.  But we both know, it takes two to tango.)

How to make sure your mother thinks about you all day long.

(For seven-year-olds)

As you walk out the door in the morning, call over your shoulder, "Oh Mom! There is a spider under the blue thing."

For added effect make sure this is on a day when Mom has been sick and the house is extra messy. Also, she will still be recovering and not able to actually clean the whole house.

Gaaaah! Do you know how many "blue things" are in this house? All day long I hardly dared move anything without a shoe in my hand. And I never did find it.

Thanks, son.