October 28, 2008
Ike's Brain
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
Purple Nurple
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.
October 15, 2008
Another Poem by Gideon
I Hope
by Gideon Perkins
I hope that a tode will cum
and he did but he had a sily bum.
The original work.
October 8, 2008
October 2, 2008
Gid's Poem
In language arts we're reading a poem called Boy Flying by Leslie Norris. Today Gid wrote his own poem w/the first two or three words of each line written (I can see; I can't see & so on), him ending each sentence. I love that my five year old used rustles. And the ending is really quite touching. They're so close those brothers are always on each others' minds, huh? Here's his final product:
I'm Flying
by Gideon Perkins
I can see monster trees.
I can't see the box inside the garage.
I can hear the wind that rustles the trees.
I can't hear friends talking.
I can smell the sun that smells like hot trees.
I can't smell Isaac's stinky bum.