Bittersweet

The last day of Community Bible Study is always a little bittersweet.

The kids have learned so much and grown so much this year. (Literally...Abby is still the tallest kid in her class, just like she was on day one.)

Jacob still says music time is his favorite, and he loved showing off all the Bible memory verses and other songs they have learned this year. He adored his teacher, and reminded me every week on the way home, "Mommy, my CBS teacher is gluten-free, just like me!" (He was always thrilled to pass this information along, as if each week it was something he was learning for the first time.)

Abby closed out her last year as a CBS Lamb, and next year will be in a big kid class. She'll have her own notebook, just like me, and will be doing a junior version of the same Romans study I'll be doing. She and I are both a little excited about the opportunity to do our homework together. She formed a pretty quick friendship with a little girl named Violet, and the two of them have become inseparable this year.

Caleb had to bid farewell to Gloria, his very dearest friend from CBS this year who was also in his pre-k homeschool class. Gloria is the reason we know all the lyrics to "Let It Go" and "What Does the Fox Say." I know that Gloria loves Zebras almost as much as Caleb loves sharks, and I know that Caleb has spent a significant part of his time at Bible study playing Protect the Princess and Rescue the Damsel with her. I know that we were almost late to Bible study on more than one occasion because Caleb had to finish a special picture he was drawing for her, and I know that Gloria took these pictures home and stored them in the treasure box in her room. I know that Caleb would be heartbroken if he knew, as I do, that Gloria will not be in his class next year, and I don't quite know how I'm going to break it to him when the time comes.

I'll say it for the hundredth time: I am so, so thankful for Community Bible Study and its ministry to my kids. I wouldn't miss this for the world.

Let there be mud

...and there was mud.

Lots and lots of mud.

These brothers are really good at getting messy.

And I'm getting really good at doing laundry.

That's not how we spell it

Shortly after we kicked off our school year back in July, Caleb made a significant discovery while writing his name.

I watched it happen, and was powerless to stop it.

As he carefully penned his last name, he realized that he could easily change the last few letters and become "Caleb Fishark."

Mr. Fishark proceeded to write his name like this on every worksheet we did at home and on projects in Sunday School and at Bible study.

And somehow, I have finally convinced him that is not his name. And he's okay with that, for the most part. 

I'd say we're just about ready for kindergarten now.

Penalties

Nothing intimidates the other team like a nice shiner. Pretty sure no one on the opposing team is going to mess with Number 8 on the Red Skeletons until that broken nose heals.

Abby, meanwhile, is learning to channel her energy into body checking her opponents (and occassionally her teammates). She's willing to do whatever it takes to get the ball, and sometimes that means throwing elbows.

"Did you see me knock those girls down and get the ball!?" she asked excitedly during a break in the game.

I gently pointed out that one of those girls is on her team, and she shouldn't steal the ball from her own Purple Panthers.

I'm thinking maybe we need to limit our professional soccer viewing around here before she picks up any new skills.

The trouble with big sisters...

Levi went missing again.

(He does that a lot.)

"Abby," I yelled upstairs to her room, "do you know where Levi is?"

"He's in my room!" she answered.

I wandered upstairs to check on them. When I entered her room, she had Levi in a sort of headlock while she wrestled his arms into a sweater of hers.

"We're playing dolls," she explained, noticing the worry on my face.

I should mention that there were no dolls to be seen. I pointed that out, but my daughter had a ready response:

"Oh, these clothes are too big for my dolls, so I'm just dressing Levi up like a girl. Isn't he so cute?"

Bless his little heart.

Moments like this are why it's sometimes better not to ask.

Easily amused

After what I witnessed today, I'm pretty sure you've never experienced true joy until you've watched a one-year-old open a box with 722 styrofoam balls inside.

I'm trying to fight the urge to dump them in his crib and let him go crazy.

Having this year's VBS craft supplies shipped directly to my house was definitely a good move in his opinion.

Bananagrams

It's been months since Abby finished her first grade spelling workbook. And she's completely lost interest in the second grade spelling curriculum I bought to take its place.

So now, we do spelling on her terms: with a round of Bananagrams at naptime.

I'm still not sure I should have let her get away with words like "hoodie" and her own name. But since I wasn't specific, and she's using a rhyming dictionary to prove her words really count, I guess I'll have to let it go this time.

Big kid stuff

Dear Levi,

I don't recall authorizing all this growing up you're doing. Next time you want to bypass the baby swing and swing like a big kid, you're going to need to warn me first.

Did you forget you're supposed to be the baby?

Love,
The mom who gets a little weepy when you start doing big kid stuff

Not exactly science

"Mommy," my daughter asked, "can I do science outside?"

Of course. This is why we homeschool.

While Abby packed up her science book and workbook, Jacob rounded the corner with a question of his own.

"Mommy," he asked, "can I do science outside with Abby?"

Well, sure, I told him. Except that you don't do science. You're three years old.

"I'm just going to do science outside with Abby," he explained. "But not with a science book. I'm just going to color my Clifford book instead."

Okay. But you're only going to get partial credit for that.

You should see the other guy

Safety is our priority. It has been 4 days since our last accident.

Had we made it to May 20, we could have celebrated one full year injury-free. That doesn't happen often around here. It would have been a big deal. I might have thrown a party.

Our record is 514 days injury free. But we only had one kid back in those days. And Caleb was born a week later. And our safety record has pretty much gone downhill from there.

So instead of a party, we're icing Caleb's face after a game of Tickle Monster gone awry. When a 5-year-old's nose meets the side rail on his sister's bed, the bed wins.

Caleb's embracing his injury like a champ, as usual. Paper cuts and skinned knees can stop him in his tracks, but broken bones and a potentially broken nose leave him unaffected. This kid is tough as nails when it comes to major injuries. Which is good, considering how often we seem to deal with these types of incidents.

A friend asked me once if the children's ER has offered me a frequent shopper's card yet.

Many truths are spoken in jest.

Not your average princess

"Mommy, take my picture," she insisted.

Um, okay. But what exactly are you, Abby?

"I'm a frog princess ballerina monster!"

I'm pretty sure she rolled her googly eyes at me when she said it. As if her costume should have been so very self-explanatory.

He is risen!

Easter kind of snuck up on me this year. That seems to happen a lot with holidays around here.

There were no Easter baskets or egg hunts. Most of us wore the same Easter finery we wore last year. And the year before. (These shirts must have been on sale.) It was a low key day, but a good one.

There were "Easter pancakes"--with sprinkles, because that's how we mark holidays around here. And there was a morning of awesome worship, and lots of kids competing to see who could yell "He is risen!" most loudly.

I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Eighty two pearly whites

Six months ago, I thought an 8 a.m. dentist appointment for all four kids was a good idea.

This morning, I seriously reconsidered that decision.

But forty-five minutes later, we were on our way out with cavity-free reports all around.

We survived, though not without a little whining. Never has so much parental bribery taken place in such a short period of time.

Artist's rendition

Caleb's been studying sharks for most of his young life. But with the addition of a few How To Draw Sharks books into our library, his drawings are improving by leaps and bounds.

We know where the obsession began, but we have no idea where it will take him. If you see me crying one day because my eldest son has moved off to Australia to study great whites the way he always tells us he will, would you give me a hug and gently remind me that this is probably mostly my fault?

Two on the pitch

Soccer season is upon us again, this time with two on the pitch. So for the foreseeable future, our Saturdays look a lot like this.

Caleb still seems to be most thrilled that we're all there to watch and cheer for him. He's come a long way since last year, when he was mostly interested in leisurely strolling down the field at every available opportunity. He's hustling this year, and it's a ton of fun to watch. And he's more than a little excited that his dad is the official time keeper for the games and gets to hang out on the bench with him.

I spend about half my time watching the games, and the other half trying to figure out where Jacob ran off to. Thankfully, once he's up in a tree, he's pretty easy to spot.

Levi loves the action of the game, but gets a little nervous when the ball (and the ensuing hoard of children chasing it) gets too close to the sidelines. He can cheer with the best of 'em, though.

And so far, no one runs harder or puts more heart into the game into Abby. Which explains why, 15 minutes into her first soccer game of her life, she was sitting in the middle of the field crying. Dad walked to get her back on her feet and find out what was wrong.

"I...haven't....scored....a....goal....yet!" she stammered through her sobbing.

Did I mention she had been playing soccer for all of 15 minutes? (That's Abby for you.) We spent the latter part of the afternoon explaining how a team works together to win a game, and how you don't have to score a goal to be good at soccer.

Especially when you're the goalie.

Here's to a great season!

Painting party

"Mommy, can Violet come over and paint with me?"

Of course she can. Because sometimes, you just need to take a break from the brothers and do a little therapeutic painting with your girlfriends.

Fireside chats

The fire pit is back in use after a much-too-cold winter.

Time to start S'mores Training for the little guy.

Box of brothers

I love these boys.

And I love that I will always know what Levi is going to look like in a few years, thanks to the look-alike who was born 3 years ahead of him.

But someone has to do it

We all get it.

Chasing mom around the kitchen and keeping the pressure on to get lunch ready is a tough job.

It's exhausting watching her walk back and forth to the refrigerator. Sheesh, can't she get all the food and drinks in one trip?

Nobody will look down on you if you need to curl up at her feet and take a little nap while you wait for her to finish making your sandwich. Your life's not easy, you know.

Bribery works

Gluten free Bailey's Irish Cream cake pops are exactly as delicious as they sound.

And they are my official bribe of choice for the child who doesn't always take bed time as seriously as the rest of us.

Our rewards may be a little over the top, but then again, so is my commitment to having my kids fall asleep at a decent hour. A little motivation never hurt anyone.

Like math, but fancier

First grade math is taking a lot longer than it should these days.

Not because the concepts are getting more challenging (they are) or because the classroom is full of distractions (it is).

But simply because "fancy math" takes longer than regular math.

And that's just the simple fact of the matter.

Screeching halt

"Mommy, STOP THE CAR!"

I nearly did, and nearly caused a pile up behind me, because the gusto with which Caleb yelled at me from the backseat made me think that something was seriously wrong.

When he explained that we needed to stop because there was a "real live race car with real racing patches" in the parking lot to our left, I calmed down a little and took my foot off the break.

After explaining that we only ever yell like that if someone is bleeding profusely, we pulled over to take a closer look.

I mean, we're not going to miss out on getting up close and personal with a real live race car. It had real racing patches, remember?

This kind of miracle doesn't happen every day.

Trash day

I seriously don't even know why we have toys.

Who needs plastic trucks when you have a giant trash can on wheels?

Silver Lining

Meet Silvery.

He's a common gray tree frog (we presume), and he appeared on our fence recently. Abby spotted him first, because frogs are always on her radar, and within moments of capturing him, she had adopted him as her very own.

This is problematic, because frogs aren't the sort to stay in one place for long.

He hopped out of her hand. She scooped him back up. He hopped away again. She scooped him back up.

Hop. Scoop. Hop. Scoop.

Until finally, poor Silvery was too tired to do much else than simply rest in the arms of a six year old who loved him "more than anything else in the whole wide world."

When it was time to go inside, we convinced her to let him go, but not without some coaxing.

I thought it was over then.

I was wrong.

The next day I found her crying by the back door.

"I miss Silvery!" she moaned. Deep, heavy sobs shook her body. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She would not be comforted.

At that moment, I began to wonder if anyone has ever loved anything as much as this girl loved her long-lost frog.

I could do nothing to ease the pain left behind by the release of Silvery into the wild. As a mom, there is little that irks me more than not being able to comfort my kids when they're hurting. Even if it's just over a frog.

Two days and three nights passed by. This morning, it was too rainy to go outside again. Abby wanted to continue her work on the house she had been constructing for her frog in the back yard, in an attempt to lure him back.

Turns out, we didn't need to go far to find him.

"Mommy!" she screamed. The family came running. "It's Silvery!"

And there, clinging to those front windows as frogs have been known to do, was a little gray frog.

So my daughter did what any sane person would do.

She brought him inside. She rocked him a little, because babies and frogs like to be rocked, apparently.

She let her brothers introduce their stuffed animals to him.

She lost him a few times. Hop. Scoop. Hop. Scoop.

And then, she found a little box he could rest in if he was so inclined, and she put him back outside, right where she found him.

But not without saying a proper goodbye first.

Now that she knows he might come back when it rains, she's not quite so sad in Silvery's absence.

"He's just outside doing frog things, and catching bugs," she assured me. "He'll come back if he gets cold."

A worthy cause

We have only a few really big goals as parents. There are lots of little daily goals, a number of overall academic goals, and some personal goals that we'd love to see accomplished or achieved in our kids' lives.

But then there are the Big Ones. We want our kids to be kind, concerned with the welfare of others. We want them to serve and protect those less fortunate. We want them to be willing to give and give and give until it hurts sometimes, and know the blessing that comes from sharing what was never really ours to begin with. We want them to know Jesus, and serve Him, and love Him, and show His love to those around them.

These are Kingdom goals. And they trump all the others.

So when a dear friend dedicates her life to helping others understand the value of all human life, and to training people in how to defend the cause of the unborn, we come alongside her. We put her family's picture up on the map, next to the friends ministering to families in Slovakia and planting churches in Southeast Asia, and we explain that she is a "missionary for the unborn" and the work she's doing is saving babies' lives.

Our kids understand babies. And they can't fathom why anyone would want to hurt them. So Abby was more than willing to fold letters and stamp envelopes to help the cause.

One day down the road I'll get to show her this picture. And I'll remind her, as my friend Megan did when she thanked us for our support, that "her service may save the lives of unborn babies."

These are the teaching moments I never want to miss as a parent. There's something so much bigger than ourselves and our kids going on in the world. Our goal is to help them see it.

Not her favorite subject

First grade isn't all fun and games.

Learning syllables can get really stressful. Thankfully, this pupil has an English-loving mommy for a tutor. She now knows a lot more about how and why syllables are formed than any six-year-old should.

Perhaps my exuberance for explaining our native language to her has something to do with her growing dislike for Language Arts.

The baby

More from the Sleeping Baby files...

It doesn't get any cuter than this.

I don't care what you say. There is simply nothing more adorable or more peaceful than a baby snuggled up with his blanket.

Only mine isn't a baby anymore, is he? We've thought of Levi as the baby for so long, we totally forgot that he'll be 2 in just a few short months.

But you see, I don't care. He'll be 10 in a few short years, too, and I might not say it aloud so much then, but he'll always be my baby.

I have yet to figure out how to stop this time warp that my kids live in where they seem to grow up at such an accelerated rate. It was only yesterday that my oldest was born, and she'll be 7 this summer. I have no idea how that happened.

I can't seem to stop it, so I'll just go on enjoying every moment.

Especially the sleepy ones.

Not tired. Not even a little.

It's 4:30 in the afternoon, and someone does not agree with me about naptime being over.

For the record, that's the same someone who continues to insist he no longer needs to nap. His reasons range from "I'm not tired" to "I need to play monster trucks" to "I left my worms outside and they'll miss me."

I recall his sister making a similar plea not too long ago.

But actions speak louder than words.

And he's not making a very compelling argument.

Back to the beach

When our evenings look like this, it's easy to forget the pile of dishes in the sink, the crumbs under the table, and the shift in bedtime that keeps my kids up an hour later.

Who wants to wash dishes and go to bed while the sun is still shining when there's all these sandcastles to be built?

Not this family. Not even a little bit.

Oh, spring, we've missed you so...

Spring cleaning

Now that the snow and cold weather seem to be (hopefully) a thing of the past, we're ready to welcome some spring weather. And there's work to be done around the homestead.

First order of business: Remove the debris caused by weakened tree limbs and severe wind storms. Levi was undaunted by limbs more than three times his size. For a one-year-old human, he makes a pretty good beast of burden.

Next up: Pick Mommy some flowers! (Which is really a much better motivator than "Hey, pull those weeds.") Caleb's always first in line when it comes to picking flowers for girls. And just like that, the weeds are gone.

And finally, no day in the yard is complete without the finding of some slimy creature. The kids were thrilled with their capture of this rare black salamander. Upon learning that it is a somewhat threatened species, they were happy to return it safely to its home. But not until after they had sufficiently poked and studied it.