Do I Really Have a 6 Year-Old?

I don't always give this girl the credit she deserves. Lindy possesses such a fiery spirit. This can cause moments of aggravation (for the both of us) but can also bring moments that simply take my breath away.

Today she is officially six years old. (Is it just me or is that unbelievable?) She has taught me so much about being a mother and has been infinitely patient with me as I muddle through. I am so lucky! 

The best things about my girl are:

Her smile.

Her sense of humor.

Her stubbornness.

Her tender heart.

Her faith in her parents.

Her love of family.

I am SO GRATEFUL to have this extraordinary child in our home. It has been a wonderful six years! Happy Birthday, Lindy! We love you.

Resolution

I've been stuck in a rut of introspection lately. Not a fun place to be sometimes. For the last few weeks I have brooded over an ever-pressing need to solidify a RESOLUTION and have come up with nothing...except more unpleasant introspection (sigh).

But today, or rather tonight, I have had an epiphany. In an unexpected moment of clarity I suddenly realized why I've been struggling. With motherhood. With me.

I have forgotten...

to enjoy...

life.

Because I'm busy. Or tired. 

Tonight, however, I see that I'm busy and tired because I've been BLESSED with three very active, engaging young CHILDREN.  I'm busy and tired because I'm lucky enough to be a homemaker...to spend my days in service to those I LOVE most of all in this life.

 

Thankfully a loving Father in Heaven is still willing to remind me that there is JOY in every day. There is PEACE in service. There is BEAUTY in life.

So, an amended resolution finds its' way into my personalized mantra for 2009:

ENJOY!

Fly Away

I've been spending a little quality time with my Mac lately throwing together some short movies of the kids. 

Here's one made especially for Grandma H. She loves this stuff.

Laughter Is the Best Medicine

My girls just love to tell jokes. They were saving up a few for their "silly" grandpa and we thought we'd share them with everyone.

Ha, ha!

Worry

I am a worrier. I inherited this fantastic quality from my mom...and there seems no end in sight. My worst worries are for my children and I tend to err on the side of overprotectiveness. It has, more than once, caused my children to declare that I am "the worst mother in the whole world." I rarely let this bother me because I can become "the best mom in the entire universe" by allowing them to watch TV a mere ten minutes later. But there are times when I wish that I weren't so caught up in the "what if's" of childhood and just let them live life.

So, even though I didn't want to let Ellie play outside in the snow today I chose to ignore my instincts and give in to her emphatic pleading. And look at how much fun she was having:

Until:

The little devil on my shoulder was allowed several "I told you so's" as I watched Ellie run up the driveway with blood dripping down her chin, onto her coat, and pants, etc. She had somehow managed to scrape her chin, bite off a chunk of her lip, and jam her two top teeth loose. (We'll be making a phone call to the dentist tomorrow to see if I need to focus any additional worry on whether or not we'll have those Billy Bob teeth for real.)

So, at least for the rest of today: I'm a worrier and proud of it!

Bruises

It is entirely possible that I've simply forgotten what the girls were like at nine months. (My memory isn't what it used to be.) But the fact is that I simply do not remember either of them suffering from the sheer number of falls, slips, spills, and bruises that my little boy has endured to date. He seems to be living up to the "boy" persona and is constantly climbing and falling, climbing and falling, climbing and...well, you get the picture.

The stairs seem to be the most attractive venue for his adventures. After many attempts to teach him that the stairs aren't the safest playground he is beginning to catch on. Now he'll crawl to the edge of the stairs, stop, and start yelling at us. However, despite my repeated "no, no, no" warnings, he still goes down from time to time. Here he is expressing his sincere desire to reach the bottom of our stairs:

 

As much as I am not looking forward to him becoming more mobile, I am starting to get a little anxious to move past this particular phase of infancy. I hate seeing all those little bruises, carpet burns, and scrapes covering his cute little face. Poor kid.

Grumpy

Let me preface this post with a brief statement: I love postal workers. I love the US Postal System. I seriously appreciate that I can count on you rain, shine, sleet, hail, etc. to deliver my mail!

That being said: What's up with grumpy mail carriers? 

Thanks to a dear snow-plowing city worker I ended up with a rather large snowdrift smack-dab in front of my mailbox the other day. So, thinking I'd be a kind and helpful citizen, I spent an hour and a half chipping away ice and snow to clear a lovely path for my beloved mail carrier. 

Exhibit A:

I was therefore somewhat dismayed when I reached into my mailbox today to find a note from said mail carrier threatening to discontinue service until I cleared away all snow from in front of my mailbox. (Yes, yes...before some of you get all up in arms...I do, in fact, understand that federal law blah blah blah states that a mail carrier needs to be able to reach the mailbox without leaving his/her vehicle. I know.) But I'm feeling a little unappreciated. A little put-off by a generic form used to communicate that my best wasn't good enough.

Luckily my husband is not as emotional about forms of any kind. He went straight to work after getting home tonight (in the dark) and made a mail-carrier-accessible-path right through that mound of snow. 

Thank heavens for him...I might have actually waited until my service was discontinued.  

Howdy Y'all

I've said it before...my little Ellie is destined to be immortalized as a "class clown" in at least one of her future yearbooks. She is such a ham! She seems to thrive on others' laughter. 

For example, the middle of dinner is apparently the perfect time to try out a pair of Billy Bob teeth. It's so hard to scold her for getting out of her chair when she is so busy making us laugh.  

"I Hate Tape"

We all have events that occur daily without fail. In my case, I enjoy a repeat performance each day of the same thing: Ellie walking (sometimes dancing) on top of my countertops. And each day I can be heard saying the same thing: "Ellie, please get off the counter."

Tonight I decided to mix it up a little. I said, "Ellie, please get off the counter before you fall down and crack your head open." And I was pleased with the result. She got down and sat down on her stool. I continued making dinner.Then I heard a sniff. I glanced at my 3 year-old and noticed that she was silently, yet seriously, weeping. I asked her what was wrong and the theatrics began!

She bawls, "I don't want to crack my head open! Then they would have to fix it with tape and I don't want tape in my hair cause it's really sticky and would mess up my curly hair and my head would be cracked! I HATE TAPE!" This speech was followed by some not-so-silent wailing. 

After calming the hysterics and curtailing the waterworks I was able to distract her. I didn't exactly mean to mortally frighten the child...but maybe it worked. We shall see tomorrow.

Therapy

I truly believe that blogging is therapeutic. Or, at the very least, an emotional form of preventative medicine. My mindset has been altered by the mere existence of a potential audience for even some of the more mundane aspects of being a stay-at-home-mom. Here's an example of what I mean.

A couple months ago Ian convinced the girls that the skin of an apple is practically bursting with an array of vitamins, nutrients and other mouth-watering goodness. As a result they no longer seem able to properly consume the fruit. Apparently they now feel it absolutely necessary to focus all attention on the superiority of the "red parts" and ignore all the "boring" insides.

  

Normally, finding a perfectly good apple in such a mutilated condition would have provoked an onslaught of lectures (think about the starving children our parents all acquainted us with back in the day). But there will be no lectures today. Instead I find myself grabbing for the camera in an attempt to document a humorous moment in my otherwise boring day. 

How awesome is that? I'm relaxed. I'm chill. I'm as laid back as I'm going to get! Thank you, blogging world.

Nine Months!

Our nine-month photo had to be of Curtis in his favorite place...the bathtub. Apparently he's part fish. As soon as he hears the water running he makes a break for the bathroom with a huge smile on his face and squeals with delight. It is definitely one of my favorite times of the day. His laughter is infectious and I am guaranteed happiness for as long as I can keep him from dunking his face under water. Joy.

Our little boy has become not so little. He is climbing stairs (and falling down them, too). He is tearing around the house and is into every drawer, purse, shelf, etc. that he can reach. He has already broken a waffle iron, choked on some paper he pulled out of the printer, and is a magnet for little objects left on the floor by his big sisters. Already I feel like he's living up to the reputation of boys worldwide...but I love it. He is still the center of our family life, keeping us laughing and keeping us guessing. Happy nine months, Curtis!