All done!

What is it about babies/toddlers that they feel the need to chuck food, utensils, and bibs? Sometimes it's done in anger, but mostly, it's just an "I'm all done!" declaration. I totally understand that a lack of prowess when it comes to eating might cause small people to drip and drop food items. But throwing them? Who needs that? And what if adults did that, especially in restaurants? (I just got an awesome visual of a bunch of adults chucking their plates at a swanky restaurant.)

The twins do this constantly. When I give A2 any food, I almost always put it just out of his reach, because his natural reaction to any food the first time he sees it is to chuck it. And this doesn't put me in a good mood. If he really does want it, he'll let me know and then I move it closer. (I especially get annoyed when he swipes a handful of Cheerios. Those suckers can get air.) Also, since our kitchen backs up against the living room, I've often found food items that N deemed unworthy, right on the carpet. Lovely.

Cups thrown across the room. Bibs ripped off and tossed aside. Bowls, plates, and forks chucked onto the floor. Crackers and cereal ground to dust. Noodles mushed.

Thanks, kids. Mom was hoping to get down on her hands and knees and wipe the floor clean again today. Three times just isn't enough, you know?

Break

On Saturday morning, N woke up with goopy eyes. She'd had a bit of a cough for a few days (one of those coughs that only happens first thing in the morning and right before bed, but really not in between), but when she woke up with the goop, I realized we probably shouldn't take her to nursery on Sunday. And my next thought was, "Hey, it's my turn to stay home. Hooray!"

Sad, I know. Sad that I get so giddy at the thought of staying home from church, rather than lamenting the fact that I'll miss it. Miss the wrestling with children during sacrament meeting; miss the walking up and down the halls with the twins; and miss wrestling with our Primary class for the next two hours. Yes indeed, I was giddy at the thought of missing all that.

So, I sent my husband and the three older kids off to church, put the twins down for a nap (I think they were giddy at the thought of actually taking a decent nap rather than going to nursery), grabbed a bottle of Crush orange soda, and snuggled down on my bed. I re-read a bit of Catching Fire for a while and then drifted off to dreamland.

I'm thinking a break like this might be in order once a month.

Five

Dear T,

I've been thinking a lot about the time right before you were born. I kept hoping you would come on different days in May. I thought 5/5/05 would be a fabulous birthday, but you thought otherwise. A few family birthdays also came and went. Then, I thought 5/15/05 would be cool, too. You didn't. In the midst of that, I was having contractions all night long, almost every night for a week. Still, you didn't come.

Finally, you entered the world on 5/16/05. I think that was a prelude to your very unique personality. Sometimes your stubbornness to do things your way is frustrating (and apparently reminiscent of your dad when he was growing up), but I love that you're a boy who knows his mind.

You're a super fast runner and you learned to ride a two-wheeler earlier than the other kids. I love watching your imagination at work, and seeing what you'll come up with next. I'm so excited for all that you'll learn in kindergarten next year. We love you, T!

Blissful

The second best time of the day (the best time, of course, being those dreamy hours between kid bedtime and my bedtime) is definitely naptime. I put the babies down at 12:30 pm. And for the next three to four hours, the house is quiet and serene. I doubt that they actually sleep for that long, but they're usually content to sit in their cribs (I put them in separate rooms for naptime) and talk to themselves and hang out. And if they're happy in there, I see no reason to take them both out and disrupt the bliss.

Of course, the only regular disruptions to the bliss are the arguments I have with T. He gets rather bored in the afternoon and so he often comes into my office to ask for snacks, a different show, permission to play a game on the computer (the one I'm working on), and so on and so forth. Sometimes, the boredom is helped by playing with the boy next door, but mostly, the only thing that helps is when he falls asleep on the couch.

I'm already dreaming of next fall, when T will be in afternoon kindergarten and the babies will be down for naps and I will truly have blissful afternoons. *Sigh.*

Balls and other assorted things

I love watching the toys or small items that my children decide to love. Often, it's the strangest of things. I've laughed over the stupid kids' meal toys that have hung around for much longer than I ever thought they would have. We actually have an "Arthur" phone/calculator (looks like a phone, but surprisingly, functions as a calculator) that we got at Wendy's when S was about three years old. It's still here and the twins play with it all the time.

As I've mentioned before, N is in love with most stuffed animals and babies. But her very most favorite of all is a stuffed dog that belongs to S. N could be holding three stuffed animals in her arms, and she'll drop all of them if she sees that silly little dog. Which, of course, doesn't sit well with S. But I think it's adorable. She hates to put down her beloveds to eat meals, so sometimes I'll just set whatever animal she's in love with for that day behind her in her highchair.

A2 has recently become obsessed with balls—balls of all shapes and colors. But mostly, he loves to hold onto a teeny, tiny bouncy ball. He lost his original bouncy ball when he chucked it onto the ground at his brother's soccer game and we couldn't find it. After that, we bought him five replacements. Most of his babbling phrases begin or end with "my ball." I love that he'll hold onto it for a solid hour. And I love that he can be totally sad and will totally cheer up at the sight of "my ball."

Easter

I'm a wee bit behind on posting Easter pictures, but since it's been going back and forth between 45 degrees, windy, and snowing just about ever since, I guess I have an excuse for forgetting that it's actually Spring. :)

The twins look like such big people! (Sniff, sniff.)

What's wrong, Mom?

Last Saturday, I was packing all five kids into the van after T's soccer game. I was tired, frustrated, and just done. S asked me, "What's wrong, Mom?" Usually, when one of my children says this (usually S, because she seems to notice my moods more than the others), I have a ready response.

"I'm so very tired of you guys whining all the time."
"Mom's just not feeling well today."
"Well, if you guys would stop fighting with each other like crazy people, I'd be a lot happier."

But this time, I paused before answering. What was my problem? Sure, I had just dragged five children to a soccer game, where the high temp was about 45 degrees. And yes, it's not especially fun to keep two babies entertained for an hour so they'll stay in the stroller, not to mention placating the older kids who are, of course, bored. And I was definitely not thrilled with the fact that I had gone to all of this work for the soccer boy himself, who after six games, still doesn't seem to really want to play the actual game. He'd rather run near the ball than kick it.

But really, was there anything really wrong this time? I told my daughter I was fine, and thought some more about patience, and the lack thereof that I seemed to be experiencing. Is it fun to take five kids to a freezing cold soccer game? Not really. But did it warrant me acting so very annoyed? Again, not really.

It was a good lesson for me. Sometimes life is crazy. But that doesn't mean that I need to go to the crazy place every time things get that way.