Special delivery

Not to be outdone by his sister's taco-making skills, Caleb spent an afternoon making felt pizzas for the family.

Abby and I received pizzas decorated with black olive "flowers" and the younger boys were treated to tow truck themed pizzas with pepperoni wheels.

I can't be certain, but I think there's a good chance Caleb is the most thoughtful four-year-old ever.

And the best pizza chef, at that.

People person

Levi finally found a place to play where no one bumps into him and no one takes his stuff.

At least for a little while.

He's happy to play here for a few minutes before he remembers he's the youngest of four siblings and he doesn't like playing by himself.

Then it's out from under the table and into the madness of the playroom for my little one.

I call it the Danger Zone. He considers it the Fun Zone. His siblings see it as a game of Distract the Baby With Something So He Doesn't Break Our Stuff.

Either way, Levi's just happy to have someone to play with. Even if all they're doing is playing Keep Away.

Finders, keepers

We're really going to need to work on Jacob's Hide and Seek skills.

Step one: Stop hiding in plain sight.

Step two: Stop announcing "You know what? I'm over here!" when I finish counting to ten.

Summer suits us well

If you need me, I'll be in the backyard, hanging out poolside with this cute baby.

And watching these three crazies splash up a storm.

Brotherly love

One big perk of being a parent is getting to play like a kid again.

Only instead of burying your own brother in the sand, you and your brother get to work together to bury some of his favorite nephews.

It's true what they say. Boys will be boys, even when they're grown men.

Maybe growing up isn't all that bad after all.

Belly sleepers

Apparently, Levi and his cribmates do not prefer to nap on their backs.

Up, up and away

Levi, 10 months old                             Jacob, 9 months old
May 2013                                             August 2011

I give up. They're not listening, and if they are, then they must not care.

I've tried asking nicely. I've tried pleading, bribing, and coercing.

But they just won't stop.

They insist on growing up. All of them.

They insist on hitting these silly little milestones--sitting, standing, crawling--and flashing that big proud grin at me every time.

I remember when Jacob did it. (I'm pretty sure that was yesterday.) I tried to explain to him at the time that standing would only lead to walking, and walking would only lead to running, and running would only lead to not needing Mommy to hold his hand at the park anymore.

And now Levi's following down that same dangerous path. And soon I'll blink, and my littlest will be waving at me from the top of the slide, just like the rest of them.

Silly kids. Stay little for a while longer, please.

Pretty please?

Physics

I didn't want him to bring his little green truck with us inside the aquarium. But it wasn't worth the tears in the parking lot, so I conceded. And besides, I thought, if he loses it, it will be a good lesson for him.

In hindsight, I'm very glad I didn't miss this moment.

After winding through the aquarium for some time, we finally approached the shark tunnel, with considerable fanfare. (It is, after all, the shark tunnel.)

Jacob's eyes were immediately drawn to the moving sidewalk. He hopped on, and then off, then on, then off again, each time being propelled forwarded a few inches. He looked ahead to where the sidewalk was going, and behind him to where his adventure had begun.

Satisfied with his understanding of how it worked, he prepared to put the moving sidewalk to a real test. I could see the excitement in his eyes.

This, I imagined him thinking to himself, this is going to be fun.

He removed the green truck from his pocket and stooped down to rest it on the moving sidewalk. In one motion, he placed his truck on the track and shifted his feet to rest behind it.

Jacob, and the truck, rode about a foot down the tunnel before he picked up the truck and hopped off.

That did not go the way he had planned.

The wheels were turning in his head. He examined the sidewalk again, observing the people moving past him, getting farther and farther away as they traveled down the sidewalk. He looked at his truck, wondering why it had failed to do the same. He hopped on, and then off, then on, then off again.

He was ready to try again.

He stooped down a second time, leaned forward to place his truck on the track, then climbed on behind it. The truck and the boy moved forward, but no distance grew between them. The truck failed to drive off into the distance the way he had hoped. He stood beside the sidewalk once more, looking more carefully this time to see if there was something he was missing.

I'd like to say he figured it out. I'd love to tell you that on his next try he put that little truck down and remembered not to stand right behind it, but to stay put and watch it drive away.

But he's only two years old. And it's a fairly short tunnel. Perhaps if he'd had a little more distance to work with, he would have had time to solve his dilemma.

But instead, he rode down the track behind his little truck like this until the sidewalk ran out, a look of bewilderment on his face the entire time.

Maybe I'll help him out next time.

Taco night

"Mommy, what are we having for dinner?" Abby asked at around 10 a.m.

It's taco night, I told her.

"Can I get up early from naps and help you make tacos?"

Nap time is sacred to me. But what kind of mom can say no to that question?

So at exactly 3:45, as instructed, she came downstairs to serve as my sous-chef de cuisine.

First, she made a list of everything we should have on our tacos so she could cross them off as we got them ready. And she added milk, so I wouldn't forget to put drinks on the table.

For the record, she thinks the spelling of guacamole is silly. I agree.

When dinner was served, I bragged on my assistant and made sure everyone knew what a big hand she had in getting our food to the table. After a round of thanks from the men of the family, we proceeded to enjoy our meal.

These might be the best tacos I've ever eaten. 

Majority rules

I don't necessarily love that Levi is trying to climb the stairs.

But I'm being overruled by his personal cheering section.

Déjà vu

Just another evening in the children's ER. No biggie. Standard fare around here, actually.

The story we got when it happened was that she was running and tripped and hit her head on her dresser. Her room is pretty big, and she's pretty clumsy, so it was easy to believe that she'd picked up enough speed to cause the big gash above her eye.

But the tale she told at the hospital went a little differently. We have some pretty strong drugs to thank for the real story.

"Mommy," she confessed, "I may not have told the whole truth." The drugs that were intended to calm her down in preparation for the arrival of the plastic surgeon were beginning to take effect. Her speech was slurred, her eyes were droopy, and she was getting very honest.
"I wasn't running when I hurt my eye," she explained. "I was jumping off my toy box."

I inquired as to why, hoping to get a little more mileage out of this truth serum they'd injected her with.

"I wanted to see if I could reach my dresser."

Apparently, she can. With her face.

The stitches took mere minutes, and the doctor anticipates only minor scarring. Abby was a champ, and only flinched a little. By the time it was over, she was more than ready for that pink popsicle they'd promised her when we checked in.

And the first question she asked when we got in the car to come home?

"Did I get more stitches than Jacob?"

No, I assured her. The twenty stitches it took to sew his finger back together is more than the seven it took to sew your eyebrow back together.

"So he's still winning?"

Yes, Abby. He's still winning.

I forgot for a moment how competitive she is. This, combined with her knack for crashing into things, does not bode well for our future.

Firsthand account

Being the fourth baby means always having an eyewitness to your latest and greatest accomplishments.

And being the fourth baby means that eyewitness is rarely ever mom.

In Levi's case, big brother Jacob is likely going to be the one to experience most of his firsts. It's kind of hard for me to compete with the 15+ hours a day they spend together in this room.

I happened upon today's big event when curiosity got the better of me and I sought out the reason behind the raucous laughter coming from the room with the two cribs.

I didn't have to search long.

"Weevi standin' up! Weevi standin' up!" Jacob announced, somewhat needlessly.

Apparently, Levi can pull himself up to a standing position now.

And since he lives with a personal narrator, I know every time he does it.

Every. Single. Time.

Spirit

What he lacks in skill and experience, he more than makes up for in heart and enthusiasm.

This is true of almost everything Caleb does. And it's proved true on the soccer field as well.

He opts for a casual saunter over the hustled pace his coach would prefer. But no one smiles bigger than Caleb when someone else has a really good run down field.

He's probably happiest sitting on the sideline with his teammates and discussing water bottles and the height of the grass. But he never lets those teammates (whom he all knows by name) depart from the field until he's given them a hearty goodbye and a "See you next week!"

He was truly distraught the day one of the coaches didn't see him standing there and tripped over him. The coach was quick to scoop Caleb up and assure him it wasn't his fault, but Caleb's heart of gold was concerned.

"I'm not going to knock that big coach over again," he told us every week after that.

Mostly, I think he's just thrilled to be outside, running around with a bunch of boys his age, getting high fived by parents and kids that tell him "Great job" after every game. He loves hearing about how Daddy played soccer growing up, and he loves that the whole family shows up each week to cheer him on. He doesn't notice that Abby's off playing with the bigger kids, or that Jacob's mostly interested in eating pistachios on the sidelines. He just notices that we're there, and he flashes us that great big grin that shows us he knows we're proud of him.

I'm pretty sure he didn't score a single goal this season. But if they were giving out an award for Most Team Spirit, he'd be the winner.

I couldn't be prouder of that.

Dream come true

Some opportunities are too good to pass up. Even for someone with a strict No-Waking-the-Kids policy like myself.

For instance, if a tiny little frog is found clinging to the windows by your front door, and you just so happen to have a frog-loving little girl in your house, you should probably get her up to see it. Even if it is 10 o'clock at night.

It took us a few tries to wake her, but once she realized what we were up to, Abby was pretty pumped about getting to pet a frog in the middle of the night.

We had to show her the pictures the next morning to prove to her that it wasn't a dream. And now Caleb wants to know when we're going to get him up in the middle of the night to pet a shark.

That one could prove a bit harder.

A time to dance

My beautiful tiny dancer...it makes my heart sing to see you having so much fun, twirling in your fluffy tutu with your friends and singing songs of praise as you wait for your turn to go up on stage.

You are only five, and you don't know about stage fright. You're just excited to wear the costume, and the big pink bow, and dance on stage with your friends. You're excited that your family is here to watch you dance, and you're thrilled that we let Caleb stay up past his bedtime so he could come too.

You've grown so much since you first started dancing. You still love it, in spite of the fact that you really aren't that sure if you remember the whole routine or not. Your teacher has taught you well that dancing is a way to worship God with your whole body, and you're excited to be leading all the parents in worship tonight as you dance to a song that is so perfectly suited to your particular struggles.

Sweet Abby, I pray that as you continue to grow and dance and worship in whatever God calls you to, that you will remember the words you danced to tonight:

I know I'm not perfect

I know I make mistakes

I know that I have let you down

But you love me the same

You lift me up when I can't see

Your heart is all that I need

Your love carries me so I'm letting go

You lift me up with your love...

~"Lift Me Up" 

Graduation day

I declare Abby's Kindergarten year officially over. Happy Summer to us!

She's learned to add and subtract and occasionally multiply with ease. She can measure inches and centimeters and tell time on a real clock. ("Not the one with the numbers in a line, Mommy. The one with the numbers in a circle.") Math is by far her favorite subject, and her best.

She's learned to read and write well, and to use proper punctuation for the most part. She still prefers to end most sentences--and her name, for that matter--with an exclamation point "because I want you to read it with excitement, Mommy!" She still writes her letter y backwards, and still gets upset when I point it out. Perhaps because I've been pointing it out for three years. Maybe I should just let this one go.

She has completed more science experiments than I can count, most of them of her own volition, because I got tired of our science curriculum around week 10 of our school year. She's quickly on her way to figuring out how electricity works, how plants grow, why rain happens, and what happens if you leave a worm out in the sun too long. She is, in fact, determined to know everything about the world around her, and her need for answers is often exhausting. We've armed her with lots of Encyclopedias of How Stuff Works and Big Books of Knowledge to try to satiate her need to know things.

She can list all the planets in order (she's still undecided on the status of Pluto) and tell you about lots of their moons. She knows she would burn up if she went to Mercury and that she would freeze if she could land on Neptune. She's pretty impressed that our planet is situated just exactly where it needs to be in the solar system in order to avoid similar fates.

She is still her own worst critic, and she's still fiercely competitive and an extreme perfectionist. This is great when she's determined to do or learn something she's interested in, but detrimental when she fails to see a point to our lessons.

Her final assignment of our school year was a math lesson, and not an easy one at that. She was required to use an outside source (The Bible) to determine what happened on which days of creation and match the event to its corresponding ordinal number. She aced it.

When she was done, I congratulated her on being a Kindergarten graduate.

"What does a graduate do?" she wanted to know.

Well, I explained, usually graduates wear funny hats and throw them into the air.

"And do they eat Oreos?" she asked.

Of course they do.

"Let's do that, then."

So we grabbed my graduation cap and headed out to the front yard where she tossed it into the air again and again shouting, "I'm a first grader! I'm done with Kindergarten!"

And then we ate Oreos on the front porch, and talked about what a big deal this all was, and how proud I was of her for all her hard work this year.

She's growing up, this little girl of mine. Happy graduation day, Abby.

My little flock

"He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young."

Isaiah 40:11

Today, I am reminded of the great blessing and the tremendous responsibility I have been given as the mother of these little ones.

Today, I pray the Lord would gather these lambs in his arms and carry them close to his heart all the days of their lives. And I praise Him for gently leading me as I care for them.

Today, I thank Him for the mom who raised me to never give up. This has been an invaluable piece of practical advice for a young mother to heed. Some days, the only reason dinner makes it to the table is because I know better than to give up.

Today, I thank Him for the mom who raised the man I married. She told me once that she's prayed for her children's spouses from the time her boys were born, and some days, knowing she's praying for me is just what I need to get me out of bed in the morning.

Today, I think of all the grandmothers and mothers in our family tree who cared for their own little flocks and ultimately contributed so much to my own.

Today, I pray that my daughter would grow to be a woman who is discerning and beautiful (1 Samuel 25:3), and that she would delight in her heavenly Father as He delights in her.

Today, I pray that Caleb would be faithful, that like his namesake in the Bible, he would stand out as one with a different spirit who follows the Lord wholeheartedly (Numbers 14:24).

Today, I pray for Jacob, that God would keep him wherever he goes, and that the Lord will not leave him until He has done what He has promised (Genesis 28:15).

Today, I pray for Levi, that God alone would be His inheritance (Deuteronomy 10:9), and that he would be fully satisfied in the Lord and His plans for him.

Today, I look forward to eternity, to that day when my faith will be made sight, and when I will finally hold the babe who was never meant for this earth and who I miss so very much on this Mother's Day.

Today, and every day, I am blessed to be a mother. Humbled and thankful, often weary and sometimes sleep deprived, but very, very blessed.

Delicious on a stick

We found a bakery that makes gluten free cake pops, and the kids couldn't be more excited.

Jacob is thrilled to have a cake pop in his hand once more, and Abby and Caleb are thrilled they no longer have to abstain for the sake of their gluten-free brother.

And Levi was thrilled to have a big ball of chocolate all to himself.

Cake pops are a kind of a big deal around here.

Like a baby

Apparently, Levi can pull himself into a sitting position now. I only know because every time I go to get him up from his nap, instead of flailing around helplessly on his back, he's sitting up and peering at me through the bars on the crib.

This new skill of his has one major fault. Apparently the act of getting yourself from a supine to a sitting position is so exhausting, that once he gets there, he tends to nod right off.

Next lesson: lying back down before falling asleep.

No reason

It's just that my kids are really

really

cute.

And sometimes, I just feel obligated to share that with the world.

Potty Break

Jacob dragged Levi into the bathroom to play.

You know, so I wouldn't have to pee by myself.

My kids are real thoughtful like that.

Men Stuff

I don't know what I was thinking asking Caleb to nap in the middle of a fun day at Nana and Granddaddy's.

He agreed to a little rest time while his younger brothers napped upstairs and Abby did "girl stuff" with Nana downstairs. But after about an hour, I set him free and asked if he'd like to come downstairs and hang out with me and Abby and Nana.

"Where'd Daddy and Granddaddy go?" he asked, ignoring my question.

I told him they went down to the dock to fish.

"I'm just gonna go outside with them and do men stuff," he informed me.

And that's just what he did.

Next stop: Bathtub

He loves corn and beans a little bit.

And by "loves," I mean "smears all over himself and everything within reach."

Yet another reason why dinner at our house immediately precedes bath time.

Storytime

As we wrap up our last few weeks of school, this has become our afternoon routine.

The littles go down for naps, while the bigs enjoy some books for a while before heading upstairs for some rest time of their own.

Some days go more smoothly than others. Today was one of those days.

They sat like this for a full half hour while Abby read Caleb The Complete Adventures of Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel in its entirety.

I love these moments.