Wordless Wednesday: Happy Halloween!

Pumpkin Head!

Cheeseball!

Daddy, I am not impressed.  Now let me eat my cookie.

All I wanted was one good picture.  Can you sense the desperation in my smile?

Pumpkin Patch!

A pumpkin patch with swings?!?

AND you are going to let me drive?! BEST DAY EVER!

Can I keep him?

I want this one, Mommy.

Now you see him...

Now you don't...

A Punkin in a Pumpkin!

Mommy! I'm a cowboy ninja!

I'm about ready to blow this popsicle stand, Momma.

I'm how tall?!

I can... almost... reach...

Mommy, I want this one. 

Photo Card

Owl Stitched Frame Baby Announcements

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View the entire collection of cards.

Welcome to the World, Chunky Monkey!

I belong to a few moms groups -- fabulous groups of women that I could not have survived the last 5 years without.  

Within these groups, though, there are what I think of as the "Rock Star Moms."  

What is a Rock Star Mom?  A Mom that gives birth to a baby over 9 lbs.  

I joined that group on Wednesday.  

Yup, I gave birth to Jabba the Hut.   

Not only did I give birth to Jabba, she got stuck.  See, she tried to come out hands first, shouting "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"  

So it took two nurses pushing on my stomach and the doctor yanking to get her out of me.

TOTALLY WORTH IT.  

I love her.

And now our family is complete.

Yes, I pushed that out of me.  And the ultra sound that said she was 7.2 -- all lies. 

 

Okay, this picture is mean.  But I crack up every time I see it.

 

 

 

My sweet, sweet chunky monkey.

Another one?  Where's the boy baby?

Oh, I'm going to beat the snot out of you....

Thank you for my new doll, Mommy!

Just the girls!

Holy Sh#$.  I have 4 kids.  I will never get a good picture again.

Time to go home!

Look at how nice I am, bringing candy to my big brother and sisters.

Oh, and you know who else is a rock star?  My husband.  Because when I was lying in the bed crying that the Baby Nurse was ignoring protocol and not giving me my baby, he scooped her up, curtly told the nurse she could do her job later, and put her in my arms.  I love him.  

My guy kicks a$$.

Welcome to the world, little one!  I hope you enjoy the ride :)

Wordless Wednesday: Who Can Come Up With a Caption for This?

Debate Night!

~
I am raising my children to be civic-ly minded and socially conscious.

Thus, in the interest of democracy, I told them they could watch the debate with me tonight or they could watch Chicken Little.

After making them sit through the last two debates -- okay, 10 minutes of each -- they immediately voted for Chicken Little.  (Sigh).

Fine, I acquiesced.  But I told them that they had to watch in the playroom -- I wanted to watch the debate on the big TV and the political pundits afterwards.

Girlie immediately asked, "What's a political pundit?"

I thought about giving her my definition, but then reconsidered when I realized that 5 is a bit young for a string of curse words that ends with "idiotic morons."  (Yes, I know I am watching the pundits.  But I'm also shouting back at them.  And I want it noted that this behavior doesn't make me crazy.  It makes me a Government teacher.)

So I told her that a political pundit is someone who takes the facts and spins the facts to suit that person's own political ideology.

Then I braced myself to define ideology.

But Girlie surprised me.  She didn't ask for a definition of ideology.

Instead, she asked if the political pundits twirled faster than she did.

When I looked confused, my husband pointed out that I did say a political pundit "spun the truth."

Family Fun Day

We started with a Disney Breakfast

We taught BabyGirlie how to go down slides... I still don't think she gets it...

We taught Girlie how to play football... Girlie's got an arm!

We tried to teach Boyo how to play football, but we really just played Fetch with our son.

Best part of football?  Touchdown Dances.

Monkey in the Middle!

We made Monster Puppets

And went to a Music Class, where Boyo gave me a black eye...

And Girlie Played the drums...

And the kids got their picture in the paper!

Wordless Wednesday: Boyo In A Bubble

A Letter To My Daughter on Her 13th Birthday

Before my children were born, I decided to write a letter to them when I was pregnant, one when they were born, and one every year thereafter on their birthday. Given that I am two weeks away from my due date, I figured I should probably write BabyGirlieGirl's now...

Hello My Darling Girl...

You are not here yet -- that is, you are very much a presence, but as I write this, you are still nestled inside of me, warm and comfortable, listening to the beating of my heart.  I can't imagine what 13 year old you is like -- I have tried, but all I can see is the baby snuggled in my womb, the baby who gets the hiccups at 2 in the morning and wakes me up, the baby who is attempting to punch her way through my belly button right now, the baby I am desperate to meet.

Unless God has another plan for your father and I, you are our last child.  My last pregnancy.  The last time I will feel a child move inside of me.  You are our baby.  And you complete our family.

I always wanted four children.  And your dad did too -- at least, he said he does.  Even when we thought we were done having children after your brother was born, I always knew that we had more children waiting for us to get our act together.  So know that you are wanted, and loved, and necessary.  Your timing was a surprise, yes, but a blessing just the same -- I wouldn't trade you or your timing for anything.

I am afraid that I don't know much about being the fourth child.  Your dad does, and he says it's no big deal.  Your Aunt Megan does, and she says it's a very big deal.  So I am going to assume that the line is somewhere in the middle.  Know that I love you just as much as I love your brother and sisters.  And that I will always try to be fair, but life isn't always fair -- but I will do my best to make your life within our family fair.

What do I hope for you, my baby girl?

I hope you know that you are beautiful.  Yes, I write that without having the slightest clue as to what you look like (although the last ultrasound showed you didn't have any hair, like your older brother and sister).  I want you to know that you are beautiful because you are mine and your father's -- you are beautiful because you are ours.

I hope that you are strong -- not just physically (although as the baby, I am sort of expecting -- and dreading -- the fact that you will probably be able to knock your brother and sisters on their butts), but mentally and emotionally.  I hope you have a strong sense of self -- that is something your father and I will strive to give you every day.  You don't have to agree with us all the time.  You don't have to try to make everyone happy -- you can't.  But I hope you can make yourself happy.

With that being said, I hope you are not selfish.  Yes, you are a teenager.  Yes, you probably think the world revolves around you.  It doesn't.  The world is bigger than you are -- I hope you can recognize that and take an active part in trying to make the world better -- this will make you better too.

I hope you know that I can't fix everything.  I wish I could.  I wish that you could come to me with every hurt and I could wave a magic wand to make it go away.  But I can't.  In order for you to grow, and learn, and be who God intends you to be, sometimes all I can do is wipe away your tears, listen to your sorrows, hold you while you cry, bake you cookies, and pray that will be enough.  And I hope you know that even if I can't fix it, I want to know about it -- sometimes talking about the hurt can be enough.  

I hope that you are smart -- and that you realize that acting dumb is stupid.  Knowledge is power, my love.  Don't waste or pretend not to have yours.

And as you enter your teenage years, I hope you realize that girls can be mean.  So can boys.  So can people.  Don't hang out with those people.  They don't deserve you.  And don't be a mean girl.  Treat people with kindness.  Live so that no one can say anything bad about you. 

Lastly, I hope you know that I am trying my best.  I know I make mistakes and yell and I am not always the mother you deserve.  I am sorry.  I love you and your sisters and your brother more than you will ever know (until you have children of your own).  I want to be better for you.  You make me better.  I hope you know that -- that you make a better mother, woman, and person.

I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything and I will always love you.

Love,

Mom

Boyo-isms

~
"Mom, wanna hear a secret?"
"Sure, Bug."
"I love you."

~
"BOYO!  GET OFF THAT TABLE RIGHT NOW!  YOU CANNOT FLY!"
"Iss okay, Mommy.  I no get a blood owie."

~
[at church after I gave him a dollar to put in the collection basket.]
"Thanks Mom!" (and he put the dollar in his pocket)

~
The other day, as the Baby was trying to kill herself, I said her name in a warning voice.
Boyo finished my warning with HIS middle name.

~
[at church during meditation]
"Buddy, I am so proud of you.  You are being so good!" I whispered.
He turned to his sister and shouted at the top of his lungs, "SEE!  I CAN BE QWIET!"

~
"Mommy, God lives in our necks.  That's why we can't tawk in chuwch."  [At the top of his lungs.  During the homily.]

~
Girlie, instructing her brother, "When your family gets bigger, your heart gets bigger too."
Boyo, listening intently, "My heawt is big 'nough."

~
After cleaning out my car and rearranging their car seats, Boyo now sits on the left and Girlie on the right.  Boyo was so excited, and he couldn't help but give his sister a tour... "See, that is where the Wienerschnitzew is.  That is where the Old McDonald's is.  That is where the Taco Bew is.  Oh, and that is a bush."

~
"Mom, God wants me to put my poop in the potty."
"Uh, where did you put it?"
"In my butt!  You so silly Mommy!"

Wordless Wednesday: Watching Pirates with Daddy

How Do You Raise A Reader?

Other than, you know, reading to them?

Give them books. 

And start them young.

I don't have time for your pictures, Momma.  I'm READING.

This is my favorite part!

What, like this is a big deal?

I'm pretty sure this is how some of my students study for tests.

She's telling me the story.  It went something along the lines of "Mommy! Momma! Mommy! Kat, no!  BABY bee bo blada gah!"