January 19, 2009
Older Boys Feeding Atticus
Last night I went out w/some girlfriends and Andy stayed home with the kids, giving Att a bottle before bed. There was about an ounce left this morning so I let Gideon and Phineas feed it to him.
January 17, 2009
Let's Talk Caillou
There are so many things I could say about that whiny, disrespectful little guy but we'll skip that for now. We'll suffice it to say my kids aren't allowed to watch Caillou b/c I don't have the energy to put up with it then have discussions about all the things that were wrong w/Caillou's behavior that day.
But they are allowed to go to Caillou's site at PBSkids.com. They love the game where you sweep dirt off dinosaur bones, find the box that bone fits it then put all the pieces together to make a skeleton. BUT. There's a cooking section on the site where they are supposed to choose ingredients that go together. The boys love to put together weird ingredients and hear what Caillou says about it. And so there's also apparently a treasure trove of the worst cooking recipes the Caillou staff could put together. "Hmm. Let's make a collection of all the recipes kids can try with their parents, that won't ever actually work or taste good." The other day Gid printed off two recipes, a French toast recipe and a brownie recipe. I've been corrected. Gid says he printed off three: the French toast and two brownie recipes. Two of the same brownie recipes, mind you. And no, I don't feel nervous at all with my five year old sitting here reading over my shoulder. Ha. That made him laugh and fall off his seat. Anyway. The French toast recipe called specifically for white bread and powdered sugar to mix with the eggs. Then, instead of mixing the milk and eggs to dip the bread in it said to dip the bread in the milk first then in the eggs. Well as you can probably guess the toast was soggy and gross. I only did it with the first two pieces then mixed the milk w/the eggs. And I used whole wheat bread and omitted the powdered sugar. Fine.
Now for the brownies. The only ingredients were: one cup of butter, flour, chocolate and sugar. Mind you it said nothing about what kind of chocolate: baking, semi-sweet, bar, powder, whatever. Then in the directions it tells you to mix in the eggs that weren't a part of the ingredients. We just took the brownies out of the oven. Besides being dry and weirdly lumpy, they were foaming. Foaming.
Andy has a good theory. He thinks some web programmer from India just found some recipes and deleted some ingredients to avoid copyright infringement. Ha! That would make me feel much better than someone actually thinking they had some good recipes on their hands here.
We've told the boys they aren't allowed to print out Caillou recipes again.
January 15, 2009
Mom my Ride
I watched this and wondered, "How'd a complete stranger so accurately recreate my minivan?"
January 6, 2009
Gid heard a story relayed to me at church about a little girl who asked her now baby-unable mom for a sister. When the mom said she couldn't have babies anymore the stubborn girl said, "Fine. If you won't give me one I'll ask God." The girl continued to insist God was going to give her a sister. On the girl's birthday the mom found out she was pregnant again. They waited a few months to tell the girl, trying to prepare her that it could be a brother. The girl, "No. I told you. It's the sister God promised me." Of course they found out it was a girl to which the little girl wasn't the least surprised. Now as teenagers whenever the girls argue the mom simply tells the older she got exactly what she'd asked God for. Anyway, Gid heard this story and when the gals left he turned to me, "Mom, that's not at all how it worked for me. I asked for a sister and got another brother." Then, conspiratorily he leaned closer and whispered, "This time I'm going to ask for a brother and I'll get the sister."
In case there's any confusion: No I am not pregnant again. It's just a cutesie picture to go with the story.
December 3, 2008
Warning: This post contains anatomically correct terminology for the male anatomy.
And so guess who had an awesome time in Minnesota? That's right, we did. Andy & I plus the four boys drove two and a half days to spend five days with Matt & Cheryl and the four Perkins girls. Oh, it was wonderful. All the kids got along really well and it's always so nice to get to hang with Matt and Cheryl. I hate that we don't get to see them more often. It had been two years! We played on their frozen pond & did some nearby ice fishing. We didn't catch anything but Gid loved it and Isaac fell through one of the holes. Of course. Just one leg up to his waist but that was enough to get him soaked in ice water from mid-torso down with the arms wet as well. My dear Ike. So much to tell. Gid was freaked out when we first went out on the ice. He was sure someone was going to fall through. Well, he knows Ike, doesn't he? For about twenty minutes he cried, hysterically sometimes. I explained to him that yes, he was afraid but that he had to choose to trust God. Therefore every time he started to tell me all about what he was afraid would happen instead he was to say, "God, I trust you. God, you will keep me safe" b/c he knows that's true even when he doesn't feel it. What a great lesson for us all. God, I feel like I'm going to fall through the ice, but I know you are in control and you are good all the time. I will choose to trust you. When Ike finally did fall through the ice confirming Gid's fears he and cousin Casey laughed and made jokes. In Ike's words he made a grumpy face at them.
Cheryl kept us spoiled and supplied with good food. She made everything for Thanksgiving day except the sweet potato casserole. And, mmm, I still want more. It's awesome to get together with ppl we love but it makes me ache that much more for them when we're apart again.
On the Atticus front, let's update you. He had his four month check up yesterday and is holding steady at the 97th %tile in height. Can you believe it? He's the milkman's son. We make chubby boys, but nothing close to tall ones. What's up with that? He also still has a really goopy eye, which he's had off and on since he was born. He's been through three rounds of topical antibiotics for it and now we're getting a referral to the ophthamologist where they're going to do a "probe". I didn't ask for details cause if it's necessary it's going to be done either way and I'd rather not have a mental image of them "probing" my baby's eyeballs. He's currently getting over his third or fourth cold (I've lost track) which just seems like over achievement for a four month old if you're asking me. And lastly, the best. We got a referral for his first ultrasound. None during my pregnancy so we're making up for it now.
Atticus and I went to the hospital for the ultrasound this morning at 6:45 a.m. That's right, a.m. It was supposed to take about thirty minutes, ended up taking an hour but as usual he was the perfect little baby the whole time. They held his legs down almost the whole time but you didn't hear a complaint out of him. It's amazing. And what, you might say, were we getting an ultrasound for? He has sneaky testicles. And I believe that's the correct medical term, too. Sneaky. We've only been able to find one since he was born, assuming the other was undescended. We gave it the usual time to descend but it's still a no show. So we had to find out whether the missing testicle was up in the abdomen or non-existent. If it's up in the abdomen it increases his chances of testicular cancer profoundly among other things. So. The tech found the first one quickly right where it was supposed to be in the scrotum then couldn't locate the other one after looking for about twenty minutes. He went and got the doctor and they began to look again. So they found what they believed to be the second little guy a bit up in his lower abdomen, at which time they discovered the first testicle had mysteriously gone missing. So what they thought had been the original missing testicle was really the one we'd found originally. Sneaky little guy. Yes, this is apparently his super power. The mysterious receding testicles. When they realized the found testicle was actually the one we'd located earlier, they began looking again for Sneaky Testicle Two (SNT). After another twenty minutes or so of searching they found SNT hidden way up in the other side of his abdomen. Upon finding SNT they confirmed they still had a location on ST One. They then commenced to taking pictures and measuring. Every boys dream. Followed closely, I'm sure by finding out in adolescence your mother had posted all your testicular business across the internet for the entire world to read.
Now we're waiting for the doctor to get the results whereupon we'll discuss surgery and whatnot. Apparently there's a possibility of hormone therapy, too, which has to be started by six months of age. It needs to be done before he's five years old or the cancer risks skyrocket and apparently there are issues of infertility, but of course we don't want to do surgery on the little guy too little. Then there's the issue of recovery. Apparently he'll have to stay pretty immobile for a week or two following which is a great deal to ask of any boy under the age of five. So we'll talk to our doctor and balance out not wanting to put a tiny guy under anesthesia too early with the probability of actually keeping a toddler/preschooler immobile for such a long period. I think I'm leaning towards doing it within the next few months before he's crawling or walking. Dunno. Got to pray a bunch and talk to the doctor.
An orchiopexy is used to repair an undescended testicle in childhood. An incision is made into the abdomen, the site of the undescended testicle, and another is made in the scrotum (A). The testis is detached from surrounding tissues (B) and pulled out of the abdominal incision attached to the spermatic cord (C). The testis is then pulled down into the scrotum (D) and stitched into place (E). (
Illustration by Argosy.
November 15, 2008
Too Late to Buy the Original Robins
The original European Robin triad has sold, but those of you who expressed interest can still get a giclee if you want. A little cheaper than the originals, but very high quality reproduction.
This is the second, a 4x6.
November 12, 2008
No, I don't seem to have much time to blog lately. I'm Little Miss Face Book, though, cause it only takes a couple minutes at a time and not too much brain power. Here's a little something that made me laugh and laugh.
Oh, I need more sleep.
October 28, 2008
He's the boy who absentmindedly chews the tires off the toy cars. (See his cousin Sam eight years ago) He used to run into walls hourly. He's not dumb; he's already sounding out three letter words before his fourth birthday and he's got a good handle on those math skills. But he just might eat poop to make sure it's not chocolate. And so now some words from Ike:
During a walk to get out some of Arlo's energy, "Mom, have you gotten out all Arlo's injury now?"
On the same dark walk, "Why do ghost-es fly instead of taking walks?" Me: "'Cause they don't have feet." Him:"Yeah, but they have feet when they're owls dressed up like ghost-es."
Pondering Atticus, "He sucks his thumb but he doesn't suck his nose."
And our favorite of the week from dinner last night, "Mommy, can I be full now?"
October 26, 2008
October 23, 2008
It's not that I want to blog less, honest. Facebook is just a bit quicker and easier at this point. It's just that I don't have time enough to pee by myself, much less to create an entry. I have four boys, ages five and under. A new baby, a two year old with a will of steel, a heart-sensitive three-yr old and I'm homeschooling w/a 1st grade curriculum & a K attention span. I need to constantly look to God for the security that I'm doing awesome as long as I'm doing my best for Him. It comes time for Andy to get home and I sigh happily thinking, "Wow, we got a bunch of good schoolwork done today and I've stayed on top of keeping Phin's obedience in check." Then I realize my entire house smells like little boy urine and looks like it's been run through by a pig on fire. Or I'll have the house reasonably straight & dinner cooking only to realize we've yet to start any schooling for the day and my three year old's stark naked in the front yard. The truth is most days we do all right. I love my boys. I revel in being able to stay home with them. Our family's so in love with each other. I have a strong peace in schooling Gid @ home and a joy in doing so. But every day's a practice in dying to myself and asking for more of the Holy Spirit. I see pride welling up when I teach Gid - he can read chapter books by himself, for Pete's sake, let's get through this 1st grade phonics curriculum and move on, already! Then I realize I'm just trying to check off lessons instead of allowing him his joy in learning. That's one of the main reasons we decided to teach him ourselves & here I am trying to rob him of it.
Att and I have had thrush for what feels like months now. In actuality I think it's only been b/twn a week & a half and two weeks. We're covered in purple - his mouth, my breasts - gentian violet the otc med's called. It stains but I'm holding out hope, esp since my 1000 thread count white Egyptian cotton sheets have spots. *sigh* I spend my days meeting immediate needs for four boys all at very needy stages. It's from one need straight to the next, usually with one or two boys waiting in the wings while I'm still trying to fulfill the first request. And if they're not waiting in the wings I'm usually in trouble cause they're off alone somewhere being boys ("Look, Mom, we stacked three bikes on top of each other and can still climb to the top!"; "Is it really okay for us to paint our hands, Mom? Gid said it was okay as long as it was purple."; "Phin's sharing his m&m's with Atticus, Mom!"; "I can't get out from under the bed again, Mom, I'm stu-uuuck!"). Then poor Andy comes home and can you imagine - expects to actually have a relationship with an awake wife! I honestly love my life. My boys are a hoot, my husband's as awesome as they come and there's just not much in life more important than what I get to do every day. But there's not any of my life that's just mine anymore. The legs are being pulled on, the arms are full, someone's climbing on my face - even the stinkin' breasts are swollen, raw, purple and belong to someone else every two hours!
I find myself wondering if it's okay that there's nothing that's mine anymore. It makes me tired, but isn't this the joy in life? Isn't this what we're supposed to do - pour ourselves out for others? Yes. And yes, we have to fill ourselves up in order to pour out. Andy's good at making sure I get breaks and little opportunities to fill myself up. I'm just tired right now. He was out of town most of last week while the boys and I were sick so my cup is on the empty side right now. But it's good. It's a good hard. I'm forced to look at what's selfish in me. I'm forced to dissect my desires, sift through and see what's selfish and what isn't. Is it really a good idea to write a blog entry while the boys are asleep instead of napping? How much computer is too much at this point? It allows me to reach out a little, but at what cost? I want to paint. Is that a desire I should sacrifice now, since I have to give up sleep to get any painting in at all? Should I schedule that weekend away w/the lady who said we should hole up in her cabin and just paint? It's hard to figure out how to make time to fill myself up and still have time to do what's necessary. I'm pushed to continue developing that self-discipline I've always been weak with and that's good. That's very good. I know these times are going to fly by and before I know it the boys will be gone and I'll have more time on my hands than I'll know what to do with. God's been good in pulling my perspective back when it begins to wander. I'm in love with my boys, in love with my husband, in love with my life and grateful to be able to complain that I'm not my own. I have a full, incredibly full life and I should never take that for granted.
This picture cracked me up. It's exactly what I feel like half the time!
My men creating robots.