Memphis: The Wedding

The weekend of June 4, our whole family attended a wedding in Memphis, Tennessee. Not just any wedding, but The Wedding of Peter and Claire.

Technically, I've known Peter since he was in high school (he might have even been in middle school the first time I met him - geesh that makes me feel old). But I only knew him a little bit. His father was a partner at my former law firm. I've always loved his whole family, but in reality Peter was in college, then law school, most of the time I was around them. I knew him only enough to be friendly.

Enter Claire. A couple of years ago, we attended Peter's parent's "chili bowl" party on New Year's Day. Peter was there with his girlfriend, Claire. Turns out Claire lived in Memphis, was a teacher, and loves, loves, loves kids. When she found out we had four of them, she wanted to know all about them. She was so interested in them that we decided, spur of the moment, to fly her down to Houston 3 weeks later to keep them for the weekend. A little crazy, yes. But, not surprisingly, they loved her. She's around, babysitting and cheering at ball games when in town, ever since.

So Peter asked Claire to marry him, which thrilled us because that meant CLAIRE IS MOVING TO HOUSTON!!! But then even possibly more exciting, Claire called a few days later and asked if Helen and Will would be the flower girl and ring bearer in their wedding.

Cort and I were absolutely honored to be included in the wedding, and quickly said yes and started figuring out how to get our brood to Memphis (more on that later).

But . . .

The problem was, Helen and Will didn't seem quite so honored. Will's trepidation was thankfully short-lived. I made the mistake of telling him that he would wear a tuxedo with a bow tie. He was indignant, because "bows are for girls." Luckily, we got that straightened out by showing him a picture of Cort in a tux.

Of course, Helen was more difficult. We told her she would wear a pretty dress, and she proclaimed that she would not wear a dress. After Will got his tux, she stated that she would be in the wedding only if she could wear a tux. At one point, she said that she would not carry flowers but would only carry a soccer ball. Claire's mom made the dress, and emailed a picture when she finished, which I showed to Helen hoping it would get her excited. It didn't. She said quite adamantly that she didn't like it and wouldn't wear it. I was prepared for the fact that when we got the dress from Claire's mom at the rehearsal, I would officially become the mom of the. rudest. child. ever.

But, when the time came, they were great. After a little trepidation, Will and Helen got their small part down during the rehearsal. Claire's mom gave us the dress--which really was absolutely beautiful, with all sorts of little detail that was much more impressive in person than via email--and Helen just stared and whispered, "I love it." She was very excited to be the only one with a beautiful white dress like Claire's.



And Will -- really, what is more adorable than a little boy in a size 3T tuxedo?



So the time came, and the bridesmaids started going in one by one. I stood with Will and Helen in front of a nervous Claire and her father, having told Will and Helen that they were Claire's "line leaders." I felt pretty confident that they would do just fine.

And that's when Helen started picking her nose.

I tried to be nonchalant, addressing the issue along with others: remember to hold hands, walk slowly, and don't pick your nose. She kept going. She was really digging. There were only a couple of bridesmaids left before it was their turn. Of all the things I pictured going wrong, this one had not occurred to me. So at that point, somewhat alarmingly, I told her that if she had a booger that was bothering her, I would get it out, but that she could not walk down the aisle with her finger up her nose! She didn't want to hear it, so she turned away from me and toward Claire and her dad. A few seconds later, Claire's dad calmed my fears: "Don't worry. She ate it."

And with that little event, which I like to think was my family's contribution to distracting Claire from any nervousness she may have felt about walking down the aisle, they were off.

They did wonderfully -- holding hands, walking slowly, Helen giving Peter a high five at the altar, and then going to sit down with the rest of our family.

All the kids were interested in the ceremony and the logistics of exactly when they were married and whether Claire's last name was now Tipps. Charlie and Joe had been asking for days whether the minister would say "You may kiss the bride," so that was a highlight. (After the kiss, Helen asked, "Did she want him to kiss her?) And afterwards, we went to the reception, where the Astros groom cake was worth the trip to Memphis for Joe and Charlie. The kids danced a bit, then went home and crashed.

But not before Joseph asked when we could see Claire again. When I told him that she would be living in Houston after she got back from her honeymoon and we could see her anytime, he was thrilled. As are we.


I know the wedding was about Peter and Claire, but I was pretty proud of my two adorable kiddos too.

*Photos courtesy of the sister of the groom, who annoyingly has the same camera we do but takes much better pictures with it.

Conversations in a public restroom

This is how it goes. Helen is in the restroom stall behind the closed door. I am outside waiting for her--meaning that I am face-to-face with other patrons as they come and go. Because we are usually in there longer than anyone else.

Helen: "Did ya hear that?"

Me: "Um, yes." or "No." or an ambivalent "Hmmm?" [I know where this is going every time, but I haven't yet figured out the response that will head it off.]

Helen: "I tooted!"

Me: "Mmmm." or "OK." or whatever else I can think of to mumble, still hoping that the conversation will somehow stop there. It doesn't.

Helen: "But I didn't say 'excuse me'!"

Me: "OK."

Helen: "Because I'm in the potty. And it's okay, we can toot in the potty. So we don't have to say 'excuse me' when we toot and we're in the potty."

Me: "OK. That's fine."

Helen: "But if we toot and we're not in the potty, we're supposed to say 'excuse me.'"

Me: "Yes."

Helen: "We can say 'excuse me.' But we can't say, 'Excuse me, you're biting my butt.'"

Me: "Right."

Helen: "Because then we can't watch Madagascar any more."

Me: "Right. Are you finished yet?"

I have had this exact conversation at least eight times over the past few weeks. The only thing that changes is how many people overhear us and how many of them start laughing.

Summer games

It's officially summer! Of course, in Houston, that means it's unbearably hot and humid.

Luckily, when you have kids, it doesn't matter how hot it is -- they can always have fun!

We throw the schedule to the wind and let the kids stay up a little later. Sometimes even past 8pm. (I know. We are wild and crazy.)

We've been walking to restaurants for dinner lately. It's not quite so hot in the evening, and I love the fact that there are fun restaurants within walking distance. And the kids love the fact that they can play in lawn sprinklers on the walk home. It's just so . . . summer.

Once we get home, they've invented a new game that must be played every time we reach our house: Dodge Croc. This involves everyone taking off their crocs, lining up on either side of the sidewalk, and commencing a game of dodgeball--except by throwing the crocs instead of a ball. This is not as easy (but far more hilarious) than you would think. Those crocs aren't easy to control! No telling what our neighbors think as we all run around throwing shoes at each other.

Ah, summer. I'm glad you're here.

My little foodies

Today was the first day of a summer camp that required me to pack a lunch for the boys. There are six total weeks of lunch-making in my future.

In general, I don't "do" lunch. While HISD lunches are not great fare, I am glad to have my kids eat school lunch if it means I don't have to make it for them.

And what gets me more than anything is the complaining about lunches I make. My view is that if I'm going to sacrifice my time to make you a meal, there will be no complaints. My view is not my kids' view, unfortunately.

So this year I told the boys to make a list of acceptable lunch items. I promised to put three items in every lunch, and that at least one item will be from their respective lists. And in exchange, I extracted a "no complaints" guarantee.

Here were their lists:

Joe - red beans and rice, edamame and garbanzo bean salad, spaghetti, ravioli, carrots and celery with hummus, grapes (purple or green), blueberries, apples (cut up), kiwi, lentils, almonds, and pineapple tidbits

Charlie - gazpacho, PB&J sandwich, chickpea soup, spaghetti, penne pasta, pasta salad, edamame and garbanzo bean salad, grapes, peaches, mandarin oranges, salad, celery, apples, applesauce, kiwi, yogurt, diced pears, mixed fruit, pineapple

Not bad, huh? So far, no complaints either.

Happy Father's Day to my partner in crime

We all know that Cort is a great dad. He loves, loves, loves his kids. And they love him beyond words.

He's not just a great dad, though. This parenting gig is a team job. And he is the perfect teammate.

He never bats an eye when I have an obligation that requires him to take care of all the kids. In fact, he is far more likely then I am to just load them all up and take them to do something fun.

When I read parenting books or come up with new strategies for dealing with the kids, he patiently listens to me. This despite the fact that on most other subjects, he stops me halfway through and tells me that I talk too much, and he's got it.

When we have to be somewhere, he often manages to get himself and all four kids ready, while I am still drying my hair. When I forget to do things to prepare, he does them (thanks for ironing Will's tux shirt for the wedding, babe!). Then he gets all the kids buckled in the car, while I rush out at the last minute to hop in the passenger seat to put on my makeup on the way to the event. He occasionally gets a bit exasperated, but mostly he just smiles a little ruefully because, truthfully, he knew all along that this is how things would go.

He has wholeheartedly supported my decision to work less in order to be around more for the kids. This makes me more of the primary child caretaker, and he now shoulders the burden of being the primary breadwinner. At the same time, he manages to leave work early to take our kids to multiple ballgames and practices per week. And he has gone to work late numerous mornings this summer because the little kids have swim lessons at the same time that the big kids have to be at camp.

Yes, he sometimes gets the kids riled up right before bedtime by pretending to be a monster or pretending to lose a stuffed animal that is actually sitting right on top of his head (the latter is the kids' favorite!) But afterwards, he almost always apologizes, and then takes the lead on getting four now crazy, giggling kids to bed.

On this Father's Day, as this is being posted, he is not getting to sleep in or be pampered in any way. Instead, he has taken the whole family on a weekend camping trip. A trip that he spent hours planning and packing for, while I did very little. And we are having a great time and making lots of memories!

So Happy Father's Day, Cort. And thanks for being my partner in this journey called parenting.

Meet Miner and Silas

One of the first grade projects this year was to raise Monarch caterpillars into butterflies. So, meet Miner and Silas:

Silas the caterpillar

Miner the caterpillar

Miner was Joe's caterpillar. He said he made up the name one day when he was playing an imaginary football?/basketball?/baseball? game outside. He likes to make up names for teams, and had come up with the Minnesota Miners.

Silas was Charlie's caterpillar. He named him after the best hitter on the A's baseball team. Not the Oakland A's, but the Timbergrove A's. Basically, he named him after some 7 or 8-year-old that he doesn't even know. (If Silas had died, he was going to get another one and name him Cyrus, which is at least after the best hitter on his baseball team.)

Speaking of dying caterpillars, it was a really rough year for Monarch caterpillars. Most of them died. I felt so bad for all the little girls in their class who were so sad. I don't think the boys would have cared much.

First Silas, then Miner, went into chrysalis at school. (I can't believe I didn't get a single picture in chrysalis.) We drove home so carefully with those bug boxes with hanging chrysalises (chrysali?), it reminded me of the first time we brought babies home from the hospital.

Then several days later, Silas appeared -- as a butterfly!! By this time, the boys were invested in them, and Cort and I were even more interested (it really was cool). We got up several times during the night to make sure he was still alive and ok! Charlie took him to school, and released him into the school's butterfly garden.




We thought we were going to miss Miner emerging as a butterfly, but luckily he did so the day before we left town. When he did so, we discovered that Miner was a girl! (Female Monarch butterflies are smaller and have thicker veins, whereas males are bigger and have two black dots on their wings.) Joe got to take him -- uh, her -- to release on the last day of school. (No pictures of Joe releasing Miner.)

It's a little corny, but they were beautiful little creatures!

Silas the butterfly

Miner the butterfly

Another first

One of the fun things about having kids is all the "firsts" you get to record.

For example, Joe was the first to sever a limb or get stitches.

And Charlie was the first to get a foreign object stuck in a body part.

And now, Will has the first broken bone in the Maddux family.



Saturday morning, around 4am, Will fell out of bed for the first time. His bed is no more than12 inches high. With bed rails. Yeah, I know. Only one of my kids could manage that.

By the time I got in there, he had climbed back in bed but said his neck hurt. I rubbed it, and he went back to sleep.

The next morning when he got up he said it still hurt. That led Cort and I to contemplate the age-old parenting dilemma: do we take him to the doctor, or not? If it were a weekday, the answer would have been easy. We would have waited before making the trip to see if he got better. But these sorts of things never happen on weekdays. We had approximately 4 hours to take advantage of our pediatrician's Saturday morning clinic. After that, we were looking at a holiday weekend, so if we decided anytime between Saturday and Tuesday that it needed to be looked at, that would mean an ER visit.

Luckily, this was one of those times when we decided to take him in, and it was the right decision. Yep, a broken left clavicle.

He's got a sling, and he's really been quite a trooper.

Busy

We've had momentous occasions around here: birthdays, baseball, anniversaries . . . . Hopefully I'll get around to documenting some of those eventually.

I've got clever blog posts lingering in my brain. I know I'll forget those.

I'm not sure why we are so busy. Maybe just life with a 6-person family?

All I know is that twice in recent days, I've been so busy that I haven't had time to stop and use the restroom until it was almost too late.

Blog posting is much farther down on my list.

Tonight's UNO results

Game one winner: Cort and Joe
Game two winner: Cort and Will
Game three (girls v. boys) winner: Girls
Game four (kids v. grownups) winner: Grownups
Game five (kids v. grownups) winner: Kids

A fun night. No crying by losers. At least until it was bedtime.

Makes My Monday