Makes my Monday

Long overdue, because this is actually from a Monday about a month ago. Uncle Rick (Cort's brother) came to see us over Halloween for a long weekend. We are so grateful that he took the time to fly here all the way from Florida to see, and get to know, his niece and nephews. This was the first time he had met Will and Helen! They all loved Uncle Rick. Of course, what's not to love about a guy who lets you ride him around like a horse?

Star of the week

Recently it was Joseph's turn to be "Star of the Week" in his kindergarten class. He made a poster about himself, and presented some things in class. One of the biggest hits was him showing how after he reads a Magic Treehouse book, he logs onto the computer, answers some questions about the book, and gets a sticker for his Magic Treehouse passport. He is sooo into this activity, and some of his classmates now are too. I just wish I could have been a fly on the wall and seen his presentations to the class!

The star of the week with his poster


"Baby pic," "Me and my brother," and "My family"


My Magic Treehouse passport


This is the poem Joseph wrote several months ago, which I described here


"Games I like: Apples to Apples, Sum Swamp, Great States, Bingo, State Fair Bingo, Whiz Kidz, and Mancala"


"My vacations," with a map and pictures depicting time spent in Colorado, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Texas, Grand Cayman, and Florida


" My chores," with pictures of our little worker bee

Where's MY Lightning McQueen?

Diapers. They come in one color:  white.  With small, unobtrusive, gender neutral characters on them. 

So why did manufacturers decide that pullups must be pink or blue, and gender specific?  It's a pain, I tell you.

Thankful for . . .

Helen's spunk . . .





Joseph's quirky sense of humor . . .





Charlie's passion . . .





Will's sweet determination . . .





A husband who makes me laugh . . .




My children's relationship with each other . . .





And the craziness of being a family of six . . .

Also football (Joe), the world (Charlie), the word "NO!!" (Will), and ketchup and pink undies (Helen).

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Wordless Wednesday

Two words that instill fear into me

Cort is out of town and I'm facing navigating the evening alone with all four kids.  Charlie, Joseph, and I go to pick Will and Helen up from school.  And there it is, in all caps, on the daily report sheet we get from Helen's teacher:

NO NAP!!

She held it together for at least half the trip home.  The 5-minute trip home.

Charlie's goals

Charlie came home from school with a paper listing his "goles" for the year.  The first one was:   

PUtSPASeisiNBetwINGMYWerDS

It appears that he set his goals wisely.

The word's out on baby happy hour

During his writing workshop time in kindergarten, Charlie’s class was asked to write about a fall Friday. Charlie wrote:

On fall Friday Charlie & Joseph & Will & Helen & Cort and Amy and a lot of or [our] frinds go to happy hour at Cates house, Luke Motgumry [Montgomery] Sam house ther [their] twins, or our house.

We are expecting a run on baby happy hour next week.

Tracer Maddux, 1994-2009

The longest relationship in our family came to an end yesterday. Cort got Tracer as a college graduation present--to himself--over fifteen years ago. They've been together two years longer than Cort and I have known each other. In fact, I'm pretty sure that Cort used Tracer to win me over some thirteen years ago. I thought Cort was cute, sure, but his dog was awesome.

Tracer was a black labrador retriever.  Emphasis on "retriever."  He didn't just fetch, he retrieved.  Going to get the bumper (stick, ball, whatever) and bringing it back was not just his way of having fun, it was important stuff.  His life's work.  In his youth--and well out of it--he simply loved retrieving.  He could follow commands and do blind retrieves.  He would retrieve until we had to stop him for fear he would pass out.

He was also clearly part human, and I swear he understood English. He was strong and beautiful, but with a sensitive side.  In fact, so much so that he tended to pee involuntary if a harsh word was ever spoken to him.  He almost never disobeyed.  He rarely got on the furniture, he did not sleep in our bed, and we could leave food on the coffee table for hours and he wouldn't touch it.  (Except for bread.  He had a weakness for bread.  He ate almost seven loaves at my parents' house while they were picking us up at the airport from our honeymoon.  It was home baked.  I guess he couldn't resist.)

He was our first child, and he was treated like it.  Notice the picture above?  Yes, he had more professional pictures taken than our younger children have had.  We took him everywhere we could, and he was a great companion. Although he hated Maddie, our other dog, when we first got her, eventually it was Trace--not us--who trained her.  She simply learned to follow his lead. 

But fifteen and a half is old for a lab. The last couple of years, he has been a shell of his former self. He had always been such a perfect dog, so we thought he might just give out, and save us a hard decision. But it wasn't to be. We both knew it was time for awhile now. Monday night Cort gave him a bath, we both spent a little time with him, and then Tuesday Cort took him in.  He was fifteen years, seven months, and thirteen days old.

We have many wonderful memories with this amazing dog. I remember him mostly as the dog in the pictures below. I hope he is enjoying the wide open spaces above, and I hope the sticks are plentiful for retrieving in heaven.

Although he was Cort's dog, in many ways he was a momma's boy at heart

The picture of pure comfort

After a rough start, he loved playing with Maddie for many years.  Although they no longer played together, we're sure she will miss him too.

No stick was ever too big to retrieve

The familiar look of anticipation

I used to love it when they retrieved something together

Happy at home

Like any lab, he loved the water too

Snuggling up

The Election

After getting a haircut this morning, Joe got to pick out a lollipop. The candidates were lemon, watermelon, banana, strawberry, and cherry.

After voting, strawberry and banana were in a runoff.

Banana won the runoff.

Four under . . .

When Will and Helen were born, we had four kids under the age of four. Pretty impressive, huh? That's the type of thing that physically can't be done when you only have one kid at a time. When people heard we had four kids under four, they were duly impressed. Saying that you have four kids, and that the oldest one(s) just turned 3, automatically takes you to Superparent status, just by virtue of the fact that you did it and survived.

Then a year passed, then another. Now we have four children under the age of . . . six. It just doesn't have the same ring to it. Sure, it's more than most people. But other people--even people who have one kid at a time--do it. And here's the kicker, as they all get older, it all gets harder. But you don't get as much credit for it.

Then the other day I read an article written by an allegedly "busy mom." She explained that she had four children under the age of twelve. Seriously? How many of those kids can bathe themselves, dress themselves, tie their own shoes, and wipe their own butts? I'm betting she's got a majority, at least, for all of the above. I have a majority for none.

I know that four older kids with different activities makes for a busy life. And I'm sure I'll be there soon enough and will be lamenting how hard it is. But really, "busy" does not describe our lives right now. "Complete and utter chaos" is the only thing that comes close.

So Cort and I decided something the other day, after another crazy, chaotic evening. It's still pretty impressive that we have four kids within a span of three years and two months. And that we have kept some semblance of sanity. So, we are going with the Superparent title after all, whether anyone else thinks so or not.

So there.

Makes my Monday

A few years ago, not just one, but two, sets of relatives gave us these personalized CDs of kids songs. (Thanks, Gransan, Grandad, Aunt Luisa, and Uncle Al--I'm sure you've all but forgotten these, but we haven't!) The CDs have mediocre singers singing these cheesy kids songs that randomly slip your child's name into them. ("Let's pretend . . . JOSEPH!/Let's pretend and play make believe/Let's pretend . . . JOSEPH!/You can be anything you want to be!) The songs are a big hit. But like most kids music, it is an-noy-ing to listen to them over. and over. and over.

So after years, we have finally managed to get the boys to move on. They now prefer artists like Jerry Jeff Walker, Charlie Robison, Jimmy Buffett, and Bruce Springsteen.

But now it's Helen and Will who love the personalized songs. So we're back to where we started.

Still, it's sweet to hear Will repeating the songs from his bedroom before we get him up in the mornings, inserting his favorite family member of the moment.

Hel-en, I think you're spe-cial!

I hope you know you're loved in every way.

Hel-en! I think you're spe-cial!

Your smile can really brighten up my day.

He also thinks Daddy, Mommy, Charlie, and Joe Joe are special. So these long-lasting CDs -- as annoying as they are -- make my Monday.