Full capacity

What? Doesn't everyone use two buggies when they take four kids to Target to buy stuff to deck the halls?

The lady at the check-out seemed bemused by my situation. Or maybe by my lack of bemusement at my situation.

She asked if I wanted some guys to help me to my car.

Guys. Plural.

She wasn't just offering to have someone help me out to my car. She was offering me a small band of Target team members.

I declined. They seemed busy. We parked close.

I've totally got this.

Smells like food

Our annual family Thanksgiving fête proved just as fantastic as ever. The food was good, the company was better, and I will continue to express my deep, deep gratitude to Nana and Granddaddy for hosting all the in-laws and outlaws in one place and sparing our van load of munchkins the hassle of the multi-family Thanksgiving day drive-around.

Caleb scored the turkey leg for what seems like the third year in a row. He'd better enjoy it while it lasts. His uncles and granddads are a lot more generous with the sharing of the turkey legs than his two brothers are going to be in years to come, I'm sure. And I'm not asking Nana to buy an extra turkey just so each of her grandsons can have a leg.

It was a year ago at this same gathering that we announced our great expectation. And this year, Levi was happily passed from lap to lap while grandparents oohed and aahed over his adorableness.

Abby did what Abby does whenever something's cooking, which is to wander around the kitchen declaring, "What's that smell? It smells like food!"

And Jacob, threatening to melt down in the midst of a rapidly approaching naptime and the smells of good food not yet on the table, landed himself a private pre-dinner meal with Papa, along with the world's greatest sippy cup.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Strong to the finish

It's time to beef this baby up a little.

Step One: Add breakfast to the menu.

I finally wised up and realized I can just throw the same inexpensive oatmeal we all eat into the blender and make my own oatmeal powder instead of buying those pricey oatmeal flakes my other babies ate. (And on that note, I totally wish we could have had baby #4 first. This parenting thing is so much easier now that we kind of know what we're doing.)

We prepared Levi's scoop of oatmeal and fed it to him on one of only three baby spoons we have left in our house. (I choose the purple one because it seemed better than using one of the pink ones. Thanks to whoever bought us the baby spoons for Abby's baby shower five years ago. We've gotten a lot of miles out of them.)

And the verdict? He loved it. No spitting, no blowing food everywhere, no shaking his head and pursing his lips. He gulped it down like a champ, and didn't even make enough of a mess to get a good photo.

If things continue to go this well with solid foods, I expect some jowls and chunky thighs in Levi's future.

Old friends make the best friends

November 2012
Jacob (2), Abby Mae (5), Abby Jean (5), Levi (4 mo), Sam (3), Caleb (3)

Special thanks to Sam and Abby Mae's Nana and Pop for hosting the circus this week. We packed up the kids and took a road trip to Alabama the Beautiful to visit our old friends while they were in town for Thanksgiving. 

February 2011
Caleb (2), Abby Mae (3), Jacob (3 mo), Abby Jean (3), Sam (2)

We made the kids pose for a picture, which reminded me of when we made them do the same thing almost two years ago. It's still nearly impossible to get a picture of this many kids ages 5 and under. That doesn't mean we'll ever stop trying. I'm hoping we'll be meeting up for group shots like these for many years to come.

The young friends didn't miss a beat. They spent the day crafting, throwing rocks in a pond, running around in the yard, playing dolls and blocks and board games, roasting marshmallows, and generally goofing off. You'd never know they hadn't seen each other in nine months. They picked up right where they left off.

The girls enjoyed being "the Abbys" again, and as they ran hand in hand back to the car after tossing a large number of rocks into the water, I was reminded that it was not that long ago when they were not quite 2 and we thought they were so big heading off to mother's morning out.

June 2009

When it was time to go, there was little sadness. These kids don't really have a concept of "it'll be a while before we see them again" or "they live a long way away." They're just excited that we will see each other again. 

And so am I. Even if it does take us a long time to get home.

Lesson two

These kids have no idea how good they have it.

Their dad's announcement went something like this: "Mommy wants s'mores, so we're going to go build a fire pit in the backyard. Everybody grab some rocks."

An hour later, the probability of after-dinner bonfires had shot up to 100%.

And it was totally worth it. We'll be putting our outdoor classroom to use to teach the kids that perfection doesn't mean just toasting the perfect marshmallow, but involves toasting the whole s'more for melted chocolately goodness.

It's hard work imparting all these valuable life skills to our children.

Room for two

Operation Closet Emancipation is complete.

It was a battle not easily won.

Two weeks ago we rearranged rooms, assembled and disassembled beds and moved Caleb into Jacob's very large bedroom. They would have plenty of space, their own bathroom and a big closet to share. What they would not have, it turns out, was sleep. The setup lasted less than two days, and went so poorly that we found ourselves moving a mattress and a three-year-old back into his old room at 10 p.m. one night.

We gave ourselves (and the kids) a few days to recover, then set up a new battle plan to vanquish the infant takeover of my closet.

Abby was moved to the big bedroom with plenty of space, her own bathroom, and a big closet. The room has one major fault, but we've promised her a can of paint will solve the problem of the blue walls one of these days. She's settling in nicely.

Caleb moved into Abby's old room with a view of the backyard and the creek that is sure to make him test the integrity of his window latches one day.

Jacob was moved into Caleb's old room and Levi's stuff was expunged from my closet where it found a new home in the closet they now share.

This set up works beautifully. Four-month-old Levi does not care if Jacob cries, throws stuff down or sings himself to sleep, and couldn't sit up and acknowledge him even if he did. This renders Jacob's efforts to get his brother's attention absolutely useless, which means he eventually gives up trying.

Jacob doesn't care if Levi is crying either. In fact, when on their first night in a room together, Levi took a particularly long time to settle down, we thought we'd remedy things by removing Levi from the room until he was quiet and letting Jacob get to sleep. I crept into the dark room where Jacob was sitting up in his crib humming "Jesus Loves Me" while Levi screamed his head off. I lifted Levi from his pack n play, told Jacob to lay down and get some sleep, and started out of the room.

"No! My baby!" Jacob yelled. And then, to drive the point home, he began plaintively wailing Levi's name over and over again. "Wuuuuh-veeeeeee! Wuuuuuuh-veeeee!"

I laid Levi back down and his screaming picked up right where it had left off. Jacob, on the other hand, quieted down, snuggled up with his blankie, and went to sleep. Levi wailed for a few minutes more, and then all was quiet. I looked at the three closed doors behind which slept my four quiet children and breathed a sigh of relief.

Naptime and bedtime have gone great in the boys' room, and four months worth of my laundry is finally getting put away.

Why didn't we think of this sooner?

Theatrical debut

When she told me she'd scored the role of the turkey in the Thanksgiving play, I had to ask how it came to pass.

"Did you get to pick what you wanted to be?" I inquired, thinking it was entirely plausible that my daughter would want to be the turkey if given the choice. "Or did your teachers assign everybody a character?"

"Oh, the teachers told us they had picked out special roles that were perfect for each of us," she replied.

And as the person who spends the most time with her, I agree wholeheartedly. Abby is perfectly suited to the role of the turkey. And when the time came for her homeschool class to stand in front of a room full of eager parents to tell the story of the first Thanksgiving, she gobble-gobble-gobbled with gusto. When she remembered her cues, at least.

A dear friend pointed out that if characters are assigned based on personality, it is highly likely that Caleb will reprise the role of the turkey when it's his turn to be in the kindergarten play.

Perhaps this will be our new Thanksgiving tradition.

Informal place setting

We sat down to a breakfast Jacob always loves. We placed his bowl of Oatmeal Squares next to his sippy cup of milk and handed him his spoon, just like we always do.

And while the rest of us dug in, Jacob only screamed.

We gave him a firm "No!" We tried feeding him ourselves.

He screamed more. And pushed his bowl away.

That's when I noticed the roll of paper towels. They aren't usually there, but this morning I'd decided to bring them with me to the table in case we needed to mop up a spill. Jacob's kind of a creature of habit. Maybe he doesn't like that the paper towels are there, I thought. I moved them out of sight.

He screamed more. And threw his spoon.

"Maybe he wants a napkin," hubby suggested, handing back the spoon. Jacob does like to be clean when he's eating, and he does like to have something nearby to wipe his hands and any milk that spills. It seemed a plausible suggestion.

I retrieved the roll of paper towels, tore one off, and passed it to my two-year-old.

The screaming ceased.

We watched as he carefully set his bowl, spoon and cup aside, smoothed his would-be napkin out in front of him, evened it up with the edge of the table, then replaced his breakfast on top of it.

He'd made himself a placemat. That's what all the screaming was about. And for the duration of breakfast, he ate peacefully, content that there was something there to catch his drips.

One of these days I'm going to pull out the real placemats and really blow his mind.

Lesson one

This is my favorite room in our house. Not because it has a brick floor that shows no dirt and is super easy to clean when I get around to it. And not because it has the comfiest chair, either. This particular room is my favorite because it features the marshmallow oven. (I believe some families refer to it as a fireplace.)

So we put my favorite room to its intended use, and educated the kids on the fine art of toasting the perfect marshmallow. (Because without the perfect marshmallow, it is impossible to make the perfect s'more. And that lesson is coming up soon.) 

Caleb exhibited the most patience, eager to learn how to master this necessary life skill without catching his marshmallow on fire. (He also wins the award for most eager to get as close to the flames as possible.)

Abby mostly stood around being cute, supervising as I toasted her marshmallows for her and panicking if they didn't turn out just right.

And Jacob wisely sat on the couch, away from the siblings waving coat hangers with flaming balls of sugar on the end of them, and waited for us to hand over perfectly browned marshmallows for his consumption.

A fun time was had by all.

Why we homeschool

Because sometimes, she loves math so much that she just wants to do a whole week's worth of math lessons in one day. And since I'm the teacher, that's just fine with me.

And sometimes, we've worked on a concept for weeks without it really making sense to my young pupil. And then suddenly, putting numbers in the tens or the ones place just clicks, and the purpose of the number line is no longer so mysterious, and double-digit addition is no harder than single-digit addition.

And I get to watch the excitement of mastering a new skill unfold right before my very eyes.

Safety first

Putting Levi in the exersaucer thing had less to do with developmental readiness and more to do with safety. (For the record, I'm pretty sure it's called a Baby Entertainer. But I promise you the plastic animals on this thing are not nearly as entertaining as the real life circus he lives in.)

When you're too little to roll out of the way quickly, it can be dangerous to be lying on the floor around here. Our much-loved jungle play mat is proving less and less useful with each kid.

In other news, Levi and Jacob were both captivated by this new addition to our living room decor for at least ten minutes, which is exactly how long it took for Jacob to notice that I was using his blankie to prop up his brother.

Officially adorable

You can go ahead and take a moment while the cuteness sinks in. I'll wait.

.......................

At four months, Levi actually is getting cuter by the day. It's true. His doctor even made a note of it in his chart when we went for his check up.

"Additional notes: Adorable baby. Happy. Active. Big blue eyes."  I watched her write it down. Adorable baby is the official diagnosis. I never doubted for a second.

We have another tall, thin baby on our hands. Levi measured in the 75th percentile for height and the fifth percentile for weight. Seems that "active" part is helping him burn off every calorie I'm putting in him. We'll be beefing up his feedings with some bottles and oatmeal soon.

He took his four month shots like a man, only whimpering once. I was so proud of him, I took myself out for coffee afterward.

We had a minor setback in the Get Levi Out of My Closet campaign (more on that later), but we're actively working toward a solution that is agreeable to all parties. Until then, he's welcome to share space with my sweaters so long as he continues to be a fabulous sleeper. So far, so good.

Sweating the small stuff

Caleb was promoted to the rank of Sea Horse at swim school about a month ago, and I haven't had the heart to tell him until now.

Oh we're proud of him, all right. And thrilled for his progress. But his graduation from Barnacle to Sea Horse is bittersweet, and I blame it all on a silly little rubber bracelet. A red one, to be exact. With "barnacle" embossed in all caps. The one his swim school ran out of. And the one they're no longer going to be giving away.

So even though he did everything his coach said he had to--even though he can swim with his eyes in, with no back float, half the distance of the pool--even after all that, he only has one bracelet to bring home.

Abby has two. One for the level she started in, and one for the level she moved up to. And ever since the day that I first realized the bracelets existed, I've been digging through the little basket of bracelets, trying to find a red one for Caleb, and promising him that I would get him one. A red one, to be exact. With "barnacle" embossed in all caps. The details matter, because there were lots of bracelets in that basket, but the one he wanted, the one he'd earned, wasn't there.

"Did you find my bracelet?" he asks every week after his lesson. Not yet, I tell him, but I'll keep looking.

They told me more were coming, and I in turn told Caleb.

And I learned my lesson in always checking my sources.

Because it turns out, there are no more bracelets coming. And my three-year-old will have his yellow Sea Horse bracelet, just like his sister. But there will be no red one. At least not from the swim school.

But I promised this kid a red bracelet. And he'll have one. With "barnacle" embossed in all caps. Even if it costs me $14 to order just one custom bracelet. Because when you're three, stuff like this matters. And a promise is a promise.

Barbershop quartet

It's haircut week for the men of the family of fish, and Levi got initiated into the boys' club this time. I decided to try to remedy his pompadour with a little buzz cut action, but my efforts were for naught. The fluffy sideswept mohawk is gone, and in its place is a feathery blond flattop.

And yet, his cuteness remains unaffected. Good thing I still have a few years before he starts critiquing my hair cutting skills.

Joyfully Two

He was born to party. He was born to boogie. And he was most definitely born to be wild. And I love every bit of it.

But the fact that he was born two years ago? I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around that one.

At two, Jacob never holds still. When he's not chasing his older sister or tackling his older brother, he's roaming around the house looking for things and lining them up or stealing baby wipes and cleaning the furniture or hunting down his baby brother, "Wuhvi."

He's still long and lean, although his slender frame is more likely due now to his state of perpetual motion than to the feeding woes we've dealt with in the past. His eating seems to have turned a corner, and while we still deal with our fair share of suppertime pickiness now and then, Jacob is, for the most part, a very good eater now. And for this, we are very, very thankful. His favorite foods are still Mediterranean cuisine, Willie's pork burritos and Mellow Mushroom's pepperoni and olive pizza. But we've learned through trial and error that however much he may love these foods at the restaurant, bringing them to a new location (take out or leftovers, for instance) renders them somehow unpalatable in the mind of our favorite two-year-old. (No complaints here. I'll take eating out over cleaning up dinner any day.)

He's a ray of sunshine. Seriously. His smile lights up his whole face, and the whole room. He has an infectious laugh and his hugs make you feel like you must be the most loved person in the whole world. He wants to be held, he wants to be close and he wants to snuggle. When Jacob is around, no song is a solo and no lap stays empty for long. He's a people person, and it only takes a few minutes with him for everyone to notice.

He's thoughtful and helpful. He's quick to share a blanket or a beloved puppy with a crying baby, or to bring a truck to a big brother (as long as he's not busy with it himself), or to retrieve misplaced frogs for an absentminded sister when she can't recall where she left them. He brings me my phone if I lay it down, my shoes if he wants to go outside, and he's occasionally attempted to bring me the baby when he thinks Levi needs a little bit of attention. Perhaps because it's the response he gets from adults who bump into him, Jacob's in the habit of reaching out and rubbing the top of someone's head when he offends them or is asked to say he's sorry. The other kids have picked up on this, and are quick to stoop over and offer the top of their heads for rubbing when we ask Jacob to apologize to them for something.

He's still a man of few words. His pediatrician described him as a very effective non-verbal communicator, and that pretty much sums it up. He has a few words that are pretty understandable, and he gets very excited when the people around him comprehend what he's trying to say. "Eh-pain! Ty!" translates to "Airplane! Sky!" and comes in handy when our house gets buzzed by one of the Air Force's C-5s. "Uh voo" might be one of my new favorite Jacobisms, running a close second only to "uh voo, Mommy" ("I love you, Mommy"). He can say the names of most of his close family members, except for Caleb, whom he also calls Jacob, and Granddaddy, whom he acknowledges with a noise that sounds something like "bear shadow." He has names for a few of his toys and some items around the house, although it takes some context clues to figure out if he's asking for a bouncy ball, his pajamas, or a Christmas tree, since most of his other words all sound the same. More often than not, when we ask him to say something new, he just flashes us an impish grin and replies with a very clear "No!" followed by hysterical laughter that tells us he thinks he's totally got the upper hand in this whole talking thing. And since we usually can't help but laugh with him, he might be right.

He is determined. We joke sometimes that he has Abby's personality in a little boy's body (which could be very dangerous), and the truth is that we see in both of them some very strong Type A tendencies. Jacob is ambitious in his efforts and driven to succeed at even the most mundane tasks, and very frustrated when his hands cannot do what his brain wants them to. I made the mistake recently of building him a little house out of some homemade blocks, but failed to realize that when he could not recreate my structure on his own, the joy of block building would be totally lost. He loves organization and can be counted on to sort and arrange messes left unattended. He's my go-to guy for straightening our pile of shoes, dividing crayons into piles based on how broken they are, lining up stuffed animals or stacking books. He does not like to be helped, interrupted or coerced. This, I imagine, could mean we have some pretty terrible twos in our near future. Only time will tell.

It has not been an easy two years with Jacob. From his ongoing eating issues, countless trips to doctors, that incident with the fingertip having to be sewn back on, and every little bump and bruise in between, I often feel like this kid's kind of getting off to a rough start. And yet through (most of) it all, he's just as joyful and fun to be around as I could hope for. I can't help but think that God really is answering our prayer that He would fulfill in our Jacob's life the promise He gave to the Jacob of the Old Testament when He said, "Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land. For I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you" (Genesis 28:15). As much as I hate to see the years passing by so quickly, I'm eager to see what God has in store for this little guy, and to find out how he will use Jacob's exuberance, his joy and his sweet spirit in his own life and to touch others.

Happy birthday little buddy! 

Quiet time

A while back, in a desperate attempt to regain control of my household, I created some quiet time activity boxes. The goal was to have one activity per box that was fairly self-explanatory, could be enjoyed by one kid at a time, alone in his or her room, for an unsupervised 20 minutes or so. It had to be cheap, easy to unpack and put away, and fit in a plastic shoe box. My activities have been a huge hit, and the kids actually get excited when tell them to chose an activity and banish them to their rooms for a bit while I clean up breakfast or prepare dinner or (heaven forbid!) go to the bathroom by myself. They also work great for when a particular child is getting a little out of hand and needs to spend a few minutes in isolation to regain composure.

Even Jacob gets in on the action, which is a lovely perk of the activity boxes that I had not predicted. Although his method of playing with them is not what I envisioned, it still accomplishes the goal of getting him out from underfoot for a few moments when needed. There's only one box that he likes, and it's the one full of foam blocks that I made by cutting up a bunch of kitchen sponges. I'm certain its his favorite because he can build huge towers with them and knock them over with as much force as he wants without getting into any trouble. (The foam block--unlike its ugly counterpart, the wooden block--makes no noise, leaves no marks, and has zero potential to break windows or leave bruises.)

The excitement lasts anywhere from 5 to 6 minutes, at which point he laughs hysterically, shoves them into a pile, and moves on to his favorite alone-in-his-room activity: removing all of the baby wipes from their container. Thankfully, he's a very orderly child, so after he removes the wipes, he lines them up on his floor, folds them in quarters, stacks them neatly and brings them downstairs to me. What he wants me to do with them at that point, I have yet to figure out.

But hey, at least he stayed quiet.

Trail blazing

It happened so gradually, I barely noticed. (This probably has a lot to do with the fact that I was not the one stooped over chasing her bike up and down our street pretending to hold on while she gained enough confidence to fly solo.) But shortly after her fifth birthday, it did happen. And just like everything else she puts her mind to, Abby's successfully up on two wheels, just the way she said she would be when she turned five.

Now she breezes past our house and into the cul de sac with the big girls who are kind enough to ride at a pace she can keep up with. And then before we know it, she's pedaling past us the other way, careful to go no farther than the next mailbox that is her present boundary marker.

And following not too far behind is the little brother who wants to do everything his big sister does. He's long grown bored of propelling his balance bike with his own two feet and has mastered the art of pointing his little bicycle downhill and coasting for as far as it will take him. The thought of receiving a big boy bike when he turns four--"just like Abby did!"--is a driving force as he practices racing around and keeping steady.

And so, on a mild night in November, we found ourselves chasing kids on wheels around the trails at a local park, checking one of the last remaining items off our Summer Fun List.

For the record, the kids could care less that we're still working on our list of summer activities well into Autumn. They got a new little brother in July. That totally beats out tie-dying t-shirts and splashing in a fountain.

Cute things he does

Optional subtitle:
The ever-expanding list of adorable things I love about this baby

He smiles like this all the time now. Especially when he's being tickled. Or when Abby talks to him. Or when we look at him. Or if he's awake. 

And when he's not awake, he looks like this. (See? Still totally adorable.) In this, his favorite of sleeping positions, he reminds me of Atlas, only a little more carefree. Instead of the world, I imagine him holding up one of those little blow up beach ball globes.

Makes me smile every time.