School Pictures

~ Colby - 1st grade ~

~ Sabrina - 4th grade ~

~ Corban - 5th grade ~

~ Shelby - 6th grade ~

Music to my Ears

Shelby just had her very first clarinet performance at Plaza Park Middle School. She has practiced so hard to make every note beautiful! I was so impressed with her performance and for her diligence in rehearsing daily, and I have never had to remind her to go over her music. In fact, I often smile as I hear her doing scales in her bedroom, and even giggle when she hits a sour note...only because she cries "UGH" and starts over again! It truly is music to my ears.

Cinderella

I couldn't ignore it any longer. The kitchen floor was in dire need of a mopping. A scrubbing, actually. I've been putting it off for way too long, claiming the demands of school to be a perfect alternative to attending to the layers of grime building up on the floor, of which I stand on to prepare meals for my family. I slave and slave all day with my studies of higher education, and have no time to fuss with the frivolities of mopping floors. It is beneath me...

Even I don't buy that load of crap! I've just been too lazy to drag out the mop and bucket.

So today, I sighed as I analyzed the not-at-all shiny kitchen floor, and decided I couldn't make any more excuses to buy me the time to put it off even one more day...or two. I felt a little like Cinderella as I knelt down on the cold linoleum and began the tedious chore of scrubbing by hand. Yes, I scrubbed by hand. There was no way around it. I don't even think bleach could whiten this nastiness. So I settled in and started spraying the floor with Scrubbing Bubbles and rubbing an SOS Pad across the stains and dried-on food. To my surprise, the floor was actually coming clean! Hallelujah! It's a MIRACLE!

Just take a look below to see the line separating the beautiful, clean floor from the dirty side.

It's shameful, I know. A mother should never allow her floors to be in such conditions. I hang my head in guilt as I kick myself for not attending to it sooner, but I don't blame myself entirely. If only I had a weekly maid to do my chores for me, I would never feel such discouragement as a homemaker. *sigh*. I've sadly come to the conclusion that my floor cleaning days will never cease, and I will have to endure the agony of scrubbing grime from them until the day I die. It's my lot in life.

So there you have it. I buckled under the pressure to clean my own floor and not resort to calling in the experts at Merry Maids. Something I would never do, but dream about quite frequently.

As you can see I need to be getting back to the floor before I decide I like the "half-clean, half-dirty" look and leave it for another day to finish...or until the clean side matches the dirty.

Stealth Moms

Can a mother ever have a place of peace and quiet to think...alone... while children are around? No. It never fails, the moment I get on the phone, go into the bathroom, or try to take a nap, there they are. The chatter of endless questions that can't seem to wait to be answered or addressed, even one little minute until the phone is hung up and the toilet is flushed, ring in my ears EVERY DAY!

Just today 3 children came into my room to ask me something through the closed (and locked, or else they would just walk in) bathroom door while I was minding my own business, doing my business. My reply confused them immensely. "I'm using the bathroom, I'll be right out." Imagine them being confused by this simple and straightforward remark. To which they reply, "But mom, I just need to ask you something." After which I calmly repeat myself. "But, why can't I just ask you right now? You aren't doing anything." To this, I sigh and ignore them until they give up and either walk away or forget what they wanted in the first place.

Even when I point at the phone attached to my ear, as a clue to stop talking to me, they don't get it.

It's inevitable, you know. Children are programmed to hone in on the exact second you slip away to the bathroom, even when they are engulfed in a TV show. It's like their little ears perk up and trigger a uncontrollable response to the absence of their mommy. "Must. Find. Mommy." Like miniature zombies in a trance guiding them to the bathroom or phone-jack in search of answers to questions they haven't yet thought of, until the words flow from their mouths.

I will never understand it. Never.

Until then, I guess I'll have to sneak around using the techniques I learn from cop shows, when the good-guys are trying to evade the enemy...tip-toeing down the hall with their backs pressed to the wall, looking for the most opportune time to flea the scene. Or in my case, make a break for the bathroom. It's tricky though, they've learned that I like to hide in my closet for privacy when I use the phone.

Bypassing "kid-radar" is a skill learned only through rigorous practice and intense focus. To become a master at stealth-motherhood takes years of experience to achieve, and a title worn proudly by all mom's with grown children who are now suffering the same right of passage.

So to all you seasoned mothers out there, holding back your tears of laughter at the amusement of someone else enduring the torture you yourselves endured, THANKS A LOT!

Easter Goodies!

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No More Sugar Bug

The Sugar Bug.

A much nicer way of saying "cavity". Colby had one. By the time we were referred to a Pediatric Dentist, had the initial appointment, then finally got in to actually have the filling, 2 months had gone by. Not good for a ever growing cavity!

As I sat in the "mother's chair" (I so graciously gave this name to the chair in which I sat to watch over my baby as the Dentist did her mouth clean-up) in the procedure room, I questioned my ability as a mother.

How can my child have a cavity?

Did he not brush enough? What child does?

Was I going to get razzed by the Dentist for not caring for my child like I should? (A horror a friend of my experienced with her child...)

I was so nervous too, because I didn't know how Colby would react to the laughing gas, or the drilling and the everything else. My mind was set at ease as the kind Dentist carefully treated my son. She never once made me feel inadequate as a parent...although I was doing a good job of it myself. I was impressed at the sweet things she was whispering to him as he lay there helpless and happy. (The laughing gas made him feel like he was floating on a raft in a pool).

"Mr. Colby, you are such a pro at this!"

"Little man, you are doing fantastic!"

"Even the big kids don't do as well as you are!"

He'd just smile every time he was complemented, which made him want to be braver and do better. When we were done, his face was a little lopsided but that didn't stop him from smiling at me! The dentist even gave him a special prize because he was so good. As we walked out another child was crying and making a spectacle. Colby was so proud that he didn't act that way.

So, one the way out, we stopped at Wendy's for a Frosty (per the Dentist's request) to treat Colby for his excellent behavior!

Colby with no more Sugar Bug:

Colby, as handsome as ever:

The Best Gift Ever!

On the last day of school before winter break, Colby came running into the house with a present that he so giddily placed under the Christmas Tree. He was adamant about me not opening it until Christmas morning. I couldn't have ever imagined what I would find under the colorful wrapping paper.

With my keen sense of deciphering presents based on their shape and size, I was pretty confident that it was a drawing or hand written letter. Nope.

Tears started to stream down my cheeks as I carefully opened his precious offering, of which he kept a secret for several weeks. I imagined my look of excitement to be somewhat similar to the time I opened a gift containing a beautiful dollhouse when I was 7 years old. Mouth opened wide, with deep dimples on either side of my smile. I just couldn't look away from the carefully cut outline of my youngest baby. A stamp in time that will forever be the likeness of a curly red-headed, freckle-faced little boy, with soft cheeks and a toothless smile.

I was at a loss for words as I thought of Colby's teacher tracing the lines, and delicately shaping the face of my sweet child. The thoughtfulness involved could only be that of another mother, appreciating the same treasure.

And a treasure it is.

Check it Out!

I am so excited! The pictures in the previous slide show were all taken from my CELLPHONE!!! I'm quite impressed with the quality! I guess I can put off buying a digital camera for awhile...these pic's will do just fine for now!

Louisville Trip - March 2009

On The Edge

It wasn't until I was an adult with children, that I fully understood the capacity of the love a mother has for her child. I've always known I was loved. It's just that I never quite 'got' how much. I don't think any woman fully grasps the magnitude of it, until they bring a little piece of heaven into their own lives...until they, personally, give birth to the ever-growing entity from their womb. The moment a sweet baby is laid on a new mother's chest is the instant that the immediate bond and unconditional love is formed. It is only then, never before that second, that a small percentage of understanding reaches her heart.

I was a teenager when I first felt the strength of the bond my mother had for me.

I love telling my children the story about the time my mom was asked if she would climb out on the ledge of a tall building to retrieve a bag filled with money...lots of money. I laughed when I heard the question because I knew what her answer would be. She has always been deathly afraid of heights, and so would never, never climb out on a ledge for ANY amount of money. Of course, as I suspected, her answer was a firm, "No way"!

It was the next part of the question that caught me off guard and pricked my heart. She was then asked if she would climb out on that same ledge to retrieve her daughters Emily or Erin. I don't think I ever heard her respond to a question with as much certainty as I did that day. Just the sound of her voice was a clear indicator of her response. I could feel my throat tighten as I heard her words, "In a heartbeat". She spoke in a whisper because that was all her vocal cords would allow.

That's when I knew. That was the moment that changed me, because I believed her.

Whenever I want to emphasize to my children just how much I love them, and that I would truly do anything for them, I remind them of Nana and the time she said she would climb out on the ledge of a TALL building to get me. I don't know if they really have the ability to understand just what I mean. But, like my mom, I too, would climb out on a ledge, step in front of a car, shield them from falling rocks, and protect the very life I helped create. It is my precious duty as a mother to do these things for the little ones I have charge for...a duty I that I honor to the fullest, just as my mother, and her mother, and her mother did.

I have carried this experience, along with many others, with me throughout my 34 years of life. (Like the time my mom got up with me in the middle of the night to rub my head when I had a terrible ear ache...I was 18. Or the time I came home from school just as she was hanging up with the principle of my high school. She was livid about the way a teacher had treated Elliot...I was in awe at her willingness to stand up and defend him! Nobody better mess with her...she's ruthless when it comes to her kids! All I have to say, is I'm glad she has my back!)

So, even though I wouldn't regularly spend a afternoon climbing out on the ledge of an 80 story sky scraper, I would hop out there without a moments hesitation if my child needed me to.

I have a sneaky suspicion that there are many of those who would agree with me.

"Little Man" Moments

The other day I was talking to Colby,

and it occured to me that my little baby wasn't a baby anymore.

He was more like a "little man".

A cute, redheaded, little man.

I told him that one day he was going to be soooo big...

that he wouldn't have soft cheeks anymore,

that he might not want to kiss his mommy anymore,

and that he might not love me anymore...
(I said that more for dramatic effect...not that he would REALLY stop loving me).

As soon as I said this, he turned to me,

took my cheeks in his hands and said, and I quote,

"Once a little boy loves his Mommy, he always loves his Mommy."

Awe.

See, I told you, he's just getting so big.

Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?

I don't know why this surprised me.

The other day while I was studying for an Anatomy and Physiology test, I was quizzing Jedbot to see how much he remembered from way back when he took this class. I was asking really basic questions to start off with...knowing that he would know the answers.

I asked him to name the 3 major parts of a cell. He rattled off the first 2 without a hitch. Nucleus and cytoplasm. Easy. Then for some reason, he was stumped with the 3rd major part of a cell. Next thing I know, I hear this little voice coming from the couch..."cell membrane". I flipped my head in the direction of the familiar voice. I had to laugh because I was surprised that I was surprised. I mean, who other than my little scientist, could it be?

Corban just sat there smiling. He was watching TV when he heard Jedbot and I talking, and just couldn't help but tear his attention away from his favorite program (one of his many Discovery Channel shows, no doubt) to complete the list I was seeking. Sometimes I am just amazed at what that kid knows! I know I shouldn't be surprised, especially these days, when the schools are pushing students as far as they can to see how much they can learn. But really, he is always spitting out some sort of scientific information that I KNOW I didn't learn at his age. Now I'm wondering if my 5th grader is smarter than me. That actually wouldn't surprise me either. (Not that I think I'm dumb or anything, just that he is so much like a sponge when it comes to science.)

"Okay, Mr. Smarty-Pants, what does the cell membrane DO?, I ask.

He replied, "Well, Mother, the cell membrane is the outer covering of the cell, and it's where particles can come in and out."

What?.....I just erupted in laughter and then I teared up, as any proud Mamma would do. What a smart little boy I have.

By the way, I think I may have found me a study partner.

Pancakes

What to make for dinner? That seems to always be the question on my mind. It takes a lot to feed 6 mouths, especially the 6 in my family. I have recently learned that 2 of my 4 children are the pickiest eaters on the face of the earth! Don't believe me? Sabrina and Colby won't eat anything! Seriously, they eat virtually nothing!

All the meals I've been preparing since they were born, no longer seem to appease their taste buds. For instance, pizza, spaghetti, sloppy joe, chili, beef stew, (the staples) and the list goes on, are just to name a few. Sabrina won't even eat Peanut-Butter and Jelly. In fact, if I want Sabrina to eat Brats, she will only consume the Johnsonville brand. No Wal-Mart or Aldi Brats will do.

I started making a list with Colby of all the foods he likes, so that I could be sure to refer to it when I began cooking. The funny thing is, he'll ask me if a specific food is on his list just before he takes a bite of it. One time I lied (shameful, I know) and told him that a particular food was in fact on his list when is wasn't, just so he'd eat it. And wouldn't you know it, he did and he liked it! (The things mom's will do to get a child to eat)

How did this happen? For the life of me, I can't figure it out!!

It has become a very frustrating experience sitting down for dinner with hungry children only to find out that they won't eat what is being served. Then the crying begins. I am literally at my wits end with trying to prepare a meal that everyone will enjoy. At first, I stick to my guns and insist that they eat what everybody else is eating. I refuse to make something different. Then there's more crying. How can I force my child to eat something they don't like? I never thought it was right to make my child sit there (all night, if needed) until they eat.

(From my own childhood, I am reminded of the time when my big brother, Eric, was forced to eat lima beans. Oh the agony! He really didn't want to eat them. Finally he took a bite and promptly vomited. That's when my mom decided that she wasn't going to do THAT again.)

So, I usually end up making a grilled-cheese sandwich or ramen noodles for the picky ones. By the end of dinner, I am most often in a bad mood after slaving in the kitchen and getting the food to the table, only to get back up and prepare something else in addition to what I've already made. Arg!

Last night was the same. I went to the kitchen to start dinner with a hungry and crying 9 year-old at my feet. What to make!!! What to make!!! Pancakes? She'll eat THAT! Even Colby will eat that. Pancakes it is. She's still crying as I begin to gather the ingredients. So, in the sweetest voice I could muster (it usually sounds a bit high pitched) I asked Sabrina if she would like to help me. (Actually, it was to get her occupied and happy...I couldn't listen to the whimpering any longer.)

She dried her red, blotchy eyes as I handed her the recipe for Homemade Pancakes. It worked! This took a lot of courage on my part, because I REALLY dislike kids in the kitchen. It causes me anxiety. Besides it's just much faster if I do all the cooking myself. But, then I am reminded of the importance of teaching my children how to prepare food, not to mention the hands on experiences that comes with it. AND, the lovely memories they will have cooking with their mom. So, last night, I swallowed real hard and let the spills, splatters and eggshells-in-the-batter happen with a smile on my face. (Actually, it WAS fun.)

Everyone ate. No one cried. All bellies were full. Success!