Wednesday, February 29, 2012

coming along.

baby's room so far...

thank the heavens for thrift-stores and hand-me-downs.


it's so cold.

and i was feeling ungrateful.

so i went hunting.

and found beauty.

wet beauty.

thank you, Father.

blustery-day fort.

Luckily we had some pvc piping and 90 degree joints on hand. (We highly recommend collecting a bit of this cheap building material.)

After constructing a squarish shape, we used rope to create a hanging apparatus. Actually, we couldn't find any rope so we used braided balloon-string and had a great discussion. "How are families like this string? Are we stronger by ourselves or together? How can we work as a team like the strings in this braid?" You know, momly conversation.

I stuck an anchored hook in the ceiling and hanged the string at the cross. Then we used clothes-pins to fasten sheets for walls. Ideally, I would cut fabric to the right size and sew it together to make a tidy and reusable tent. Ideally. But this was okay, too.

We furnished what became our royal tent in only the finest of things.

And examined any potential court-members closely before admitting them.

Extravagant lighting. Ornate thrones.

And grandpa supplies the luxurious feast.

Oh, I love my life.

Even if they did name me "the evil princess" because I was bossing them around while we were making the fort.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012


five-year boy. five-year parents.

the other day i was dropping eaves as the boys conversed about "being a kid." if they endure the hardships of childhood, they decided, their great prize is becoming a grownup. and grownups are exempt from all forms of drudgery.

apparently we get to stay up all night. lucky us.

do butterflies fly around thinking, "i remember when i was a caterpillar and all i had to do was eat people's gardens all day. this flying is hard work. plus i could fit into a size 0 cocoon back then. now look at me!"

right before i took this last shot i asked him, "what do five-year-olds think about?"

"cool stuff."

i believe him.

we're all told that "time moves much more quickly for an adult than a child," but is anyone else as unnerved as i am to discover, first hand, the truth of this? how does that even work? a day's a day, right?

our oldest is five? no, he can't be.

Monday, February 27, 2012


I love to talk.

This is no secret to those who know me well, or even at all.

The gift of gab is one of my most prized treasures. Conversations about most everything on our minds fly around here.

Memorable topics from today so far:

1. the meaning of the phrase "school of hard knocks"
2. reverse speech and the subconscious
3. home-made jokes, and why they may or not be funny

I'm glad for the time we spend in language exchange mode (aka talking). Sometimes wonder and amazement wash over me as I ponder the rate at which children assimilate words into their vocabulary.

I dislike media for its conversation damming effect. The shows come on and people shut right up. Video games have a similar effect, causing my sons' ears to close to human voices and their mouths to utter no more than grunts.

I try to limit these crutches now, even if it means I get less done around the house, or that I hardly have a moment of quiet from morning until bed-time.

We can't let that pond freeze.

Imagine trying to break the ice a few years down the road when important things need to be said. I think, "if we can talk today, we can talk tomorrow. Then the next day. If I can talk to them when they're five, why shouldn't we be able to talk when they're six? Or seven? Or seventeen."

The other day we played "angry birds" on paper. We took turns drawing the pigs in their fort and flinging birds with lines drawn. Exploding in scribbles and high-fives. We talked strategy and made-up our own rules. I loved it.

Duke and I have cut out television shows for now, since our time together is so limited. Instead, last night we recorded ourselves having a conversation about whatever was on our mind. Then we put it in reverse and listened to it together to see if our subconscious' were speaking to one another backwardly.

Do you think we're creepy?

Maybe we are.

Do you know we both heard Duke say "beautiful" to me backwards? He has such a nice subconscious. Mine worries, I guess. I said "little girl." And proceeded to have anxiety dreams about my sister Emily growing up too fast, all night long.

Forward, backward, on a tangent, or sometimes too the point. I love to talk.

Friday, February 24, 2012

potato stamp tic-tac-toe.

Playing back-to-back games, all the while trying to help the boys win in unobvious ways is getting pretty old.

So we spiced it up today!

Our stamps were rolling all over the place until my husband walked by and cut the bottoms flat. Thanks, smarty.

I made sure to have a stack of lined paper ready. Someone should make a paper notebook filled with blank tic-tac-toes. Haha, here I'm suggesting that you make potato stamps, while I'm too lazy to draw four lines.

I like selecting my color to go nicely with their choice and then I imagine we're making art together. That way sometimes I lose just because I'm picking the most aesthetically pleasing spot.

Grocery list:

More Potatoes
Ice cream

oy oy oy, this is insstressing.

watching three other kids (8,6, & 5 year old girls). along with regular life. that's what i've done this week. whew.

the littlest girl often exclaims, "oy oy oy, this is insstressing." i totally agree.

i'll have to calculate the miles we've walked this week depositing and collecting children. it feels like 100. we're so tough. rar.

waking up at five to be ready for them at six is un-sarcastic-ly splendid. the boys and girls always find fun surprises on the table.

tamsin turned 18. yay, sister. you're so cool.

"i was just protecting myself..."

let's have one more "oy."

and that is all i have time to say for now.