Veggie-ville

My DH and I learned a little lesson in communication this summer - a reminder that you can't take it for granted even after 7 years together. He decided to till up the empty lot next door and turn a third of it into a neighborhood garden. I decided to buy a partial share of a CSA (community-sustained agriculture). Needless to say, we have been eating very healthy this summer. And it's been mighty fun to be able to share our abundance.

We have had to seek out some education - tonight, I am going to make kale chips. Apparently they're awesome. We'll see. The kids have been devouring the broccoli and cucumbers, along with the bunny rabbit carrots (long carrots with stems on). They also have been enjoying the sugar snap peas. For some reason, we have had no green beans from either source. Oh well, there's always the farmers market.

A little hung up on death

I don't remember thinking about dying much when I was a kid. Perhaps I did, but it certainly wasn't consuming and I don't equate the questioning to my childhood memories. Unlike my own kids. Oy.

We took them to a couple of funerals in January of this past year and both were kind of high-stress occasions, in my book. Not only were they a long drive away, but we stayed with some of my husbands' family who I didn't really know before then and both funerals meant lots of in-law time.

Both funerals involved people taking snapshots of the corpses. Both involved all kinds of interesting behavior that, of course, the kids questioned us on incessantly.

Fast forward to today and they still mention death offhandedly nearly every day. Just last weekend, I was sitting at home with Lillian, who was recovering from a recent tonsilectomy. As I folded and folded and folded laundry, I sighed and said, "When will I ever be done with folding laundry?" She matter-of-factly replied, "Don't worry, Mom. You won't have to fold anymore once you're dead." So true, I hope.

At bedtime last night, I tucked Breanna into bed like a little burrito and kissed her goodnight. She said, "I love you, Mom. I hope you don't die tonight so I can see you in the morning."

Boy, I hope they're not going to be traumatized into weirdos as they grow up. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. Although, I do hear there is good money and no such thing as a recession in the funeral business, so perhaps this might turn out ok.

Why can't I let it rest?

I am driving myself crazy, trying to find a way to get my Bell's Palsy-stricken face to allow me to breathe out of my right nostril. Big deal, right? But it drives me crazy! It doesn't hurt and it is not killing me - heck, most people don't even notice where the flesh is caved in. But it drives me crazy!

I can't chew with my mouth completely closed because then I can't breathe. I love to eat good food, love to dine with wonderful people, but hate to be seen as I do it. Vanity, oh vanity, I know you too well. As I harp on my kids about chewing with their mouths closed, they are quick to ask why, when their mother doesn't even do it. They also are quick to ask if they can wear tape on their nose to bed (because I wear a dang BreatheRite strip each night). Grrr.

Each spring, I have a resurgence of hope that perhaps there is some doctor smart enough to be able to perform a surgery to open my airway without giving me a big, ugly nose. And I blow a bunch of money, juggling my way from ENT, to neurologist, to naturopath, to chiropractor, to... this month, I have made an appointment with a plastic surgeon who specializes in interior tissue repair.

Poor DH is ready to kill me - I have literally spent thousands of dollars in search of some mystical cure. And then I give up, swearing off doctors (usually by the end of summer, and when I have maxed out what I feel I can drain out of our savings account). And then I deal with it and then the cycle begins again each spring. Why not let sleeping tissues rest? If I hadn't fuitlessly spent all this money, we could have easily gone on a deluxe family vacation each of the past five years. I kick myself all the time over this. Where are my own selfish priorities, anyway?

Some friends tell me I have the patience of a saint. I do not think I do in the least. I just have a lot of fight in me - and maybe some insanity, to boot. Apparently, I'm not so good at not getting my way. I know I should be celebrating that the pain I experienced the first year of this journey has disappeared, but instead I remain ticked off that there is no "cure." If anyone has any extra peace laying around, please pass it my way.

How to Prioritize

I cannot imagine life as a TV watcher. The thought is one of the most depressing I can think of. Every night when I crash into bed, absolutely exhausted, sometimes with my shoes still on, I go to bed thinking about all the things I accomplished that day, from the mundane to the profitable. I even include things like remembering to start my day with morning prayers, learning a new song with my kids, and trying a new tea. And then my mind drifts to what's ahead.

There are so many things I want to do in my life and I just cannot imagine I will ever have enough time to do them. It's often difficult to even prioritize and figure out where to begin.

I really want to learn how to play trombone.
And I want to master painting on fabric.
And I want to learn how to can the homemade applesauce I make in the crockpot.
I also want to figure out how to actually be good at creating a website so I can make something great come out of the one for my hubby's contracting company.
I want to learn Spanish with my kids.

I want get back into writing more feature articles for magazines.
I want to learn how to tune my piano.
I want to video tape myself reading children's books so they have it to cry over once I die.
I want to write my parents' biographies in 10 pages or less each.
I want to see my friends from all over the world. (This is a lonely town to live in.)
I want to find an exercise routine that I enjoy and I can honestly work into my life. (Salsa dancing just isn't cutting it these days - DH is Polish. Enough said.)
I want to figure out the right method for marketing on a national, public scale, the safe environment videos my team created this year.
I want to hand-bead barrettes for myself.
I want to try sewing bandana pants for the girls before they get too tall.
I want to write more love letters to my hubby. And my kids. And my family and friends.
I want to gain the confidence to use our gas grill again (now that it's hooked up to the gas line on our house, I am scared to death I will blow up our house).
I want to volunteer at more TEC retreats.
I want to make fresh crab for dinner sometime.
I want to be the one who has the patience to teach Lillian how to tie her shoes.
I want to find new bedding for my bedroom.
I want to bring treats to my grandma in the nursing home more often.
I want to learn more about the healing properties of essential oils.
I want to do a million things each day and have no idea how I ever will have the time to do them all.

So there you go, I have just wasted a half hour babbling about just the start of all the things I want to do and how I don't have enough time to do them. Gah!

All Boy

 I distinctly remember the shock and horror that overcame me the moment I realized there was a penis growing in my uterus. How could I be pregnant with a boy? A dirty, snotty -nosed, worm eating, video-game playing boy? And then this sweet little cuddle bug named Grant entered our family and all the icky stuff disappeared from thought. He cuddles, still carries around a soft blankie, tells us he loves us all the time. When he was a toddler, I even wondered a few times if he might turn out to be gay - what a sensitive little darling who told me how pretty my fingernails were and wanted to wear barrettes in his hair.

But boy oh boy, there is no doubt that this kid is 100% boy. He growls. He can fart on demand. He is attracted to the idea of hunting (already at age 3!) and he uses his strong bodily force to get his way. I haven't seen frogs in the bathtub yet, but I did find a shriveled up worm in his pants pocket when I was about to toss clothes in the wash machine. He even whips out his "peanut" to pee in our yard when inspiration hits. My shoulders are slumping as I write.

I just have to thank God for those countless moments with my sweet-smelling darling. And that this brute of a boy will fit in just fine with society at large... if he can find a way to stop exposing himself in public.

Still Falling in Love

If you are turned off by mushy gushy, consider this your fair warning. Close this page now.

I can't help but write about my wonderful hubby and how much I continue to grow in love with him. When I first started falling in love with him, it was because he simply was the nicest man I'd ever known. It's still true. His kind heart still inspires me and amazes me every day. He works on forgiving the jerks in our lives all the time - and never gives me a hard time about how long it takes me to get over grudges. He doesn't judge, he doesn't gossip, and he doesn't belittle. He is a wonderful leader through his great example - I can only hope I can be as good as he is some day. I feel so blessed that our kids get him as their dad.



He's also a leader when it comes to work ethic. He is incredibly driven. He never takes the easy or lazy route, and he really uses his gifts in beautiful ways. We make a great team in that way, which is a large reason I think we even found a way to make time to start dating. We both respect that the other works a lot and works hard. He never gives me guff for all the hours I put in and when he's in a particularly busy work time, he still makes time to show me his love. How awesome is that!

Not only is he a good guy, but he's a fun one, too. I don't always appreciate his corny humor, especially when it ventures into the 12-year-old boy-in-a-bathroom variety, but for the most part, he's growing on me. Somehow this wonderful man has found a way to make me laugh a lot, and frequently. Might not sound like such a feat, but if you know me well, you know that most things people around me find to be funny simply make me roll my eyes. I rarely laugh out loud at the same things most people do. But my DH has found the formula and I so deeply appreciate it.

And it doesn't end there. He's nice and he's funny, but he's also very interesting. Not in the "interesting" way you respond when someone asks what you think of their sauerkraut casserole. But truly interesting. He pays a lot better attention than it appears and he takes in a lot of what's going on around him...which makes for great conversations. He is so bright and observant and interested in life!

My DH is my very best friend and I appreciate him tremendously. And I know it's safe to gush about him here because he doesn't waste time reading blogs about personal feelings (like I do). So have no fear, you won't see him walking around with a big head. But don't be surprised if you see my lipstick mark on his cheek. I just can't seem to kiss him enough!

Not Sure What to Post

I just realized that my most recent post here was way the heck back in beautiful October... right around the time of our last boat trip and sunburn. I've been really struggling with what to write, so I simply have not been. My mom always stressed that unless what you're saying is nice, keep quiet. Rather than get into some of the not-so-fun turmoil that seems to surround our little family, I've just stepped back.

But my heart has been so lonesome for writing. Perhaps I ought to just move to a private journal format. Or just stick with love notes to DH and thank-you notes to my loved ones. But I like to blog. So, here I am. Back at it. Wondering what to say that won't stir those rotten proverbial pots. Unfortunately, we have a few turbulent relations on both our sides of the families, so I simply bite my tongue and put my typing fingers in my pockets.

Thankfully, not everyone in our lives creates turmoil - it's just that the ones who do, do it in a huge way. My dear folks and my sweet sister and her family are still incredibly awesome. And thanks to a couple of funerals in less than a week, we have had the fantastic opportunity to get to know DH's uncle and family and fall in love with them. And our wonderful collection of friends all over the world continues to be our cherished "family by choice."

Speaking of awesome families, our dear kiddos are getting bigger and bigger. Both of the girls are really "getting" how to share and be kind to others. They are praying spontaneously for others and thanking God for the goodness we continue to encounter. Besides the beauty of watching them mature emotionally, the girls have learned how to read recently. I've been so excited for this time with them, and the number of books we pore through each night amazes me.

Lillian really seems to love our great language. And Breanna, while equally as good as Lillian with words and letters, has a real affection toward numbers. They both are adding up streams of numbers (2+4+3=9) and learning together. The more we work together on all this, the more I realize I would really love to study Latin - I've been finding myself looking up pronunciations on YouTube so I can better explain the roots of our words to the kids. Yes, I realize they still don't know Winnie the Pooh's name (they just call him a bear), but man, they are really just as interested in the roots as me! We can be nerds together!

Because they were May babies and premies at that, I used to wonder if they would end up entering kindergarten at age 5 and be the youngest or at 6 and be the oldest. No doubt, they're going next fall at age 5.

Grant has not missed a beat with all this learning going on. He is very hands-on, like his dad. All of our scissors, screwdrivers, knives, etc. are far out of reach in a locked closet. This kid will take apart everything he can - I recently caught him using a toy car to loosen a screw beneath our recliner. He also silently used his thumb nail to unscrew the bow of my glasses that sat on my nightstand while I slept. Besides being such a "handy helper," Grant is really developing a wonderful vocabulary. Plus, he's been fully potty trained for about six months now, which is a real treat in my book.

Amidst all the excitement within our house, DH and I have been thoroughly enjoying our down time together once the kids go to bed. We have shared some wine, shared some laughs, and had some of the nicest conversations. I look outside past our sweet little neighborhood and can't avoid seeing turmoil all around us, but right here at home, wow, are we blessed.

This is what I came home to

Impromptu traffic witches at daycare tonight

Brown Marbles & Other Cuteness

Baby Grant and I had some pretty awesome bonding time this past week when our dear daycare lady went on vacation. My little honey and I played at parks, bought his first pair of Nike tennis shoes, bought him some jeans just like daddy's (grungy-looking Levis), sampled treat after treat at Sam's Club, shared some decaf pumpkin spice latte, read story after story, played trains, and hunted for rocks that looked like guitars.

The week ended with a family trip to my folks' house up north, where he wanted to hold my hand while I drove. Awww.

While at my parents' house, Grant awoke on Friday night and went wandering through the house. He went upstairs in the dark in the middle of the night to look for me. Little had he realized I was sleeping next to him all night, since DH was not with us. On Saturday, he had his first tiny box of Milk Duds. Later in the weekend, he asked for brown marbles to celebrate him peeing in the toilet (which he's been successfully doing for nearly a year now). It took about 20 minutes of conversation to figure out he calls the Milk Duds marbles.

Little things, but such fond memories. Sure do love this little guy.

The Happy Yodeler

Miss Breanna has learned a new skill at school. See below:

Oh, the stories...

So back to preschool we go... kids happy... mom driving all over the place all the time... tall tales tripping off toddler tongues tantalizing the tireless...

I don't want to be so blunt as to say the twins have turned into full-blown liars, because although it is true, I would feel terribly sad if they became embarrassed someday if they were to come across this blog. So I'll gently call what they are doing "storytelling." Their imaginations completely blow me away.

Miss Lillian has resorted to basically lying any time you ask her anything. She doesn't often instigate it, but if you ask her if she's put her socks on yet, and you can see the socks on her feet, she will say she hasn't. If you ask if she just stole her brother's toy and you witnessed it, she will drop it behind her back and innocently say no. All. The. Time.

Not to put all the blame on Miss Lillian, here's another instance. At suppertime on the third day of school, I asked Breanna what happened during her day. She calmly responded with a very realistic story about how her favorite friend Eddie bit her in the arm and had to go to time out and how she didn't get to go outside for recess. When I asked DH if the teacher mentioned anything upon departure that day, he said not a peep was uttered. I asked the teachers on Friday and they roared with laughter. The whole tale was completely tall - and believable.

And then comes Master Grant. Thank goodness he's not lying, but he's certainly showing that same kind of imagination. After a big breakfast on a school morning, we dropped him off at Grandma Barb's for daycare. He started telling her how much he just loves oatmeal. He then asked if she had any and if he could see it. She pulled it out and he asked if he could talk to it. With a chuckle, she said sure. He proceeded to sit down and have a sincere face-to-box discussion, something along the lines of, "Oatmeal, I just love you so much. You make me so happy."

Yep, we're all a little nuts and getting nuttier every day...

Birthday Weekend Fun

Each year, our family tradition is to head up to the lake for birthday weekend, usually the second-to-the-last weekend of August. My mom, my cousin Bill and I all have birthdays in the same vicinity, so we share our celebration and kick back. Every year that I can remember, Mother Nature has been mighty kind to us, including this year.

Billy wasn't with us, but we sure missed him. The kids spent a ton of time turning into prunes, I ate a three-marshmallow s'more, and stayed up until 5 a.m. having heart-to-hearts with my husband and brother-in-law around the bonfire. We enjoyed some tasty "Poke Cake" and grilled dinner, went on a couple boat rides, visited with friends and neighbors, opened some pretty nifty gifts, and generally had a super-nice weekend.

Poor Lillian sobbed as we left Sunday night, never wanting to leave the lake, but especially not wanting to leave Gramma Pamma. Within a half hour of departing on our two-hour drive home, I had three sleeping kiddos and a fresh coffee. I listened to public radio and enjoyed the shooting stars. Upon returning home and unloading my three munchkins, I unpacked the cooler, brought the wet clothes into the laundry room, and plugged back into the internet and caught up on the news. Just before bed, I read through all the kind thoughts my Facebook friends wished me - my birthday ended on a great note. The only thing that would have made it any better would have been if my dear hubby was by my side instead of staying up in Fargo to work this week. I miss him already. So far, my 34th year is off to a pretty good start.

Weird shift in peers

When we lived in Fargo/Moorhead, I had my "special-interest group." The Red River Valley Mothers of Multiples were my gal pals - my home away from home. Though we came from very different backgrounds and shared very different lifestyles/goals/attitudes/careers  (or lack thereof), we had the most important thing in common and that was being the best parents to twins/triplets/quads possible. The friendships I made there and the support I gave and received were immeasurable and truly so treasured. Gone more than 2 years now, I still love my MOMs.

When we moved to the middle of Minnesota, I figured I'd hook up with the local MOMs club and find a new group. Little did I realize until that first new club meeting that the club I'd left behind was super special and very, very unique. Though the club in my new town was smaller, it had a totally different tone and very different approach - this was moms' night out to go drink vs. moms' support group to share ideas on how to be the best parents. I went to two meetings before calling it quits. Then I tried the next-closest MOMs group - in Brainerd, a full hour's drive away. While these ladies were very nice and welcoming, logistically, it just wasn't feasible. This group was small too, but didn't have the strong online community I'd grown to love in Fargo. So, I just mourned and dealt.

Then about a year ago, I was invited to a luncheon group called Forum of Executive Women. All motivated movers and shakers in town. Wise, kind women with great business minds. Nothing to do with parenting, but fulfilling to say the least. Less than a year after joining, I was asked to be on the Board and I'm so glad I said yes. It's filled a different spot in my life and it grows each week.

I've always been a huge supporter of businesswomen and this group has very-much gratified all I've thought about the topic. Yay for business. Big yay for women! Super big yay for a growing camaraderie as we work to support one another and grow our strengths. I've already learned so much from these wise women and I'm sure that will continue.

Even though I'm not getting my twin parenting questions answered by experts any more, I'm recognizing that parenting is getting easier and that winging it with the kids is becoming more and more comfortable. Having twins is special, but it's not the only identifying factor about me and for that, I'm very grateful.

Weekend Magic

This past weekend was a time of pure magic. Our very-dear family friend, Katie Jeffrey, married a wonderful man named Jon Shibata. Woo hoo! They shared their formal celebration with us at the fancy-pancy Grand Hotel in Minneapolis. Everything and everyone was absolutely beautiful. Stunning, in fact. But beyond the visual, the tone and the feel of the entire event was what really was impactful. There was such love, support, respect, and true joy in the bride, the groom, ALL their family, ALL their friends. It was something that left us glowing, even now, days later.

We all enjoyed getting dolled up for the wedding. The twins and my niece all had princess dresses, Grant got his first suit, Dan wore his tux, and I got to wear a fun party dress, too. It was great! My wonderful parents and my dear sis and niece were also there, and DH's super-cool cousin even joined us for a while; she generously went back to the hotel room with the sleeping little tykes so us revelers could revel. My dad, DH and I were the last in our group to finally hit the sack - around 4 a.m., I suppose. The whole thing rocked.

Upon our return, we came home to our every-day life as bumpkins. As a family, we blanched and froze corn on the cob, chopped a bunch of rhubarb for wine, and even disposed of a dead toad tonight. Yep, Lillian, our bug and critter lover, loved and petted her new friend the toad tonight - to death. "Look at how gooey his tongue is, mom." When I asked if he's still alive, she replied, "Of course. He's just tired." DH, being the good husband and dad that he is, took the cue to bring the creature down to the pond so he could go find his brothers and sisters and join them for some swimming. Welcome back to reality!

So grateful

As I've met some new friends on some spiritual and emotional journeys this summer, some of the conversations eventually have led to the story of our miracle babies. Yes, I know all babies are miracles, but not all of them overcome less than 1% odds that they'll survive like my dear daughters have.

I've relived some of it, reflecting on the magnitude of the miracles for us. Why did it all happen? I hadn't questioned it until recently. My theory is that God knew I wouldn't be strong enough to cope with losing the twins. Or strong enough to handle major long-term health concerns with enough grace.

As I've seen so many loved ones face their own mortality in recent months, I've finally allowed myself to process the enormity of what we all went through. And I've finally grieved. "Grieve over what?" some might ask. Over not getting to enjoy a normal pregnancy, delivery, breastfeeding, nuzzling, cooing, "normal" family life. Over having to drive to the NICU every day to see them, day after day, week after week (wearing an eye patch, no less), not even holding one for the first couple weeks. Over having to handle a full year of colic times two - often all by myself. Over my own vanity when my face became disfigured and my girlish figure became squishy as a result of those precious little souls.

Just a couple weeks ago, I visited with a treasured colleague on a long car ride back from an out-of-town meeting. As we discussed social media and the role it can play in catechesis, I shared with him what a wonderful outlet this blog was for me. I told about how my readers are still across the globe and how much joy I receive from looking at the analytics of the site traffic. I explained why/how I first started the blog and how quickly things went from great to horrible to supter-de-dupter awful and scary within just a few short weeks of starting to journal. And how awesome the support was that I received from my dear readers. (Thank you, again.)

My colleague asked for permission to read the blog and to perhaps use it in a class he's teaching this summer on the East Coast somewhere about how social media isn't always so bad. Sometimes it works to create a community of church online when it's impossible to have that kind of support in person (such as being in a NICU with very restricted visitors). Just think about what CaringBridge has done to change communications.

I gave him my blessing to snoop away, then decided to go back to the beginning and read to today. I intended to start at the beginning post and check for typos and any need for editing. I stayed up until nearly 3 am reading it, bawling, praying, re-reading, not editing a thing. I hadn't realized until that early morning reading that even in my exhaustion I was a PR lady at heart. I didn't let on to my true agony. I shared hopeful, pleasant messages. I spared all the gore  - heck, I didn't even go into how near-death these babies were or how incredibly sick I was. Or how alone and completely terrified I felt that the babies would die on my watch. Or for how long I was in debilitating pain from my nerve damage. And how I didn't ask directly enough for the support that I really should have been begging for.

Talk about a huge summer of reflection. I have learned so much from myself and I am really grateful for having had the time to finally process it all. I've also learned a great lesson in perspective. I am going to be sure to thank God each day for just how incredible this journey has been and pray for peace and healing for all my friends and loved ones who haven't had the kind of recoveries we've been graced with.

Bring on the Brown

Not just the sand. Not just the s'mores. Nor my eyes. Nor my hair. And certainly not just my moles. But almost all of my skin is a little darker after spending a full July week at the lake. Hooray! I went into the week with three goals:

- Enjoy some time on an air mattress
- Give my mom nice-looking toenails
- Write two articles

Articles are still undone, but oh well. Next week I'll find an evening and wrap them up. The interviews are done and I've mentally written them already so it won't take long. The week really was terrific - spent with my folks and my sister and her family, and even some time with our dear friends, Clif and Clancy.

Because this vacation was the first time I've taken more than 2 days off of work in a row since the twins arrived (I think - it's been a blurry four years), I didn't know quite how I'd handle it. Thankfully, I didn't spend much time worrying - it was wonderful. Mellow. Slow. Casual. Sunny. And full of laughter and tanlines (finally!).

Here are a few of the highlights captured in pictures.

Ba-ack

Hi, friends. Hi, blog lurkers. Hi, darlings. It's been a while and I've missed you. Well, not so much your comments, which are few and far between, but your presence. (Yep, I'm a nerd who uses analytics to see who's reading and when.) More than your lurking, however, I've missed writing.

So, what's to write about? Well, what's not to? We've been driving all over the place doing all kinds of stuff and completely ignoring the mundane. We took the kids to their first baseball game, first street dance, and first Canadian fishing trip (all in the last few weeks). We've hosted numerous wonderful guests at our home, popped a bunch of bonfire Jiffy Pop, eaten way too many s'mores, whipped up a couple batches of super-strong dandelion wine, met some new friends, and a pile of other summer fun.

The most exciting (to me, anyway) is that I'm officially taking a vacation - meaning more than two days off of work in a row - and not for recovery of any ailment. We are going camping for the holiday weekend and then spending the week at my folks' cabin. I'll still have wifi so I won't go through total withdrawal, but I will not be opening any emails from work unless it's absolutely urgent. Yay! I'm positively giddy as I'm planning a menu and making game plans for poor-weather days. This is FUN!

What's everyone else up to these days? Fourth of July plans? Happy summer, folks!

Spring-a-Ling

As always, my famous last words continue to be a breathy "What a whirlwind!" I think I topped out at a million miles an hour this past month. DH went back to working nights at the factory and building his contracting firm by day. And I launched the biggest (and most public - in some ways) project I've ever had to handle myself. I rebuilt our diocesan website from scratch - with no previous web development experience and no staff with any either. Thank God for my sole employee, Barb, who made it all very attractive and worked side by side with me - many many days and nights - to pull it off well during Holy Week. I also called in a huge favor from a former colleague, sweet Jode, who guided us through the development tool and all our options and as well as handled all the super-techie stuff. We tapped into our official self-proclaimed hack for posing scenarios and testing theories, and thankfully, Tim didn't show his panic too visibly. As sucky as the hours were, it was worth all the work and tears and absolute exhaustion. The site is beautiful, functional, and so-so easy to use. I deem it a huge success.

Now that we've launched and tested, I'm finally going to take a vacation day. I hadn't dared to ask for a day off for fear my boss might just kill me. He has no idea what goes into building a website, but he did make it perfectly clear that I needed to find a way to do it - with no budget - with no staff - with no support - and in a jiffy. Well, now that the site is up and everyone is oohing and aahing, I'm going to gracefully sneak off the radar for a long weekend at the Mothers of Multiples state workshop (which is code for MOMs spa, in my book). There's something mighty therapeutic with surrounding yourself with 400+ other wonder women - with no kids in sight for the whole weekend. Hooray!

Although, with DH working nights and me working days, weekends are our only overlap time, so I am going to miss him a whole bunch. And our three crazy kiddos - well, I'm going to miss them a lot, too. Not single parenting, per se, but their adorable quirks and crazy phrases, for sure.

Breanna's biggies: "supter-de-dupter" and the "puppy-don't-run-away-string" (more commonly called a leash) and when we ask her something she's unsure of, she cleverly retorts "you tell me first"

Lillian's latest: "tell me that in a song instead of just saying it" and "I want to go back inside your tummy and go to sleep, I am so tired" and "who drove Jesus to heaven and what color was the car?"

Grant's greatest: just this morning, we walked into daycare to see Grandma Barb wearing shorts. He checked her out and said, "Nice panties." We, of course, roared. He also replies "green" whenever we ask him a question he's not sure of the answer for, such as "What day is it today?" And he insists on kissing the little children on his angel night light at bedtime, except for last night, when he pretended to eat them, sound effects and all.


But their craziness won't go to waste, as I'm bringing them up to my folks' house tomorrow for a weekend in the woods. That way, their nuttiness will be right at home.

Mellowing

I am mellowing in a very gradual way. Just noticed it tonight. Perhaps because it's been so nonchalant.

Since first having to deal with my in-laws anew a couple months ago, my explosive temperament hit its peak and then somewhere began traveling back down to normal. I've dealt with a lot, and I mean a LOT of stuff in recent months, in terms of people doing and saying stupid and / or mean things. People in nearly every facet of my life. Some of them have pulled some pretty fast gut punches, and it's frustrated the heck out of me. Why can't we all just be nice and act respectable?

But in the midst, somehow I think I'm simmering down. Perhaps it's the warming weather. Or the busy-ness of the kids who are simply nonstop. Maybe I'm just worn out. Or could it be my prayers to God for some inner peace are working? Whatever it is, I am grateful. After my stressful weekend of entertaining in-laws, we've hosted a barrage of company and thoroughly enjoyed the socializing. I hope it's a sign of the tone of the summer, which is fast approaching.

Big lunchbox

I realize that every kid has funny moments - heck, they even named a TV show after it a while back. If my documentation of quirky comments doesn't charm you, that's ok. This is my place to jot them down so I don't forget what MY silly kiddos do and say.

For instance, on our way home from daycare last week, we drove behind a minivan with one of those tomb things on top. Breanna quipped that they must be really hungry to have such a big lunchbox strapped to their van.

Later that same night, Lillian told us during dinner that she is too little to eat more dinner. The only thing that could fit is some frosting and some cake and three cookies and some steak. But no gum, because we only chew gum, not swallow it. Then she continued babbling about how she is getting so big and her tummy is almost like Santa's. She told us she is so big that she needs a bigger roof in her bedroom because she almost bumps the ceiling. (For the record, even when I stand on her bed, I cannot reach the ceiling.)

We've been encouraging them to let Grant talk for himself and let him learn how to say words by them zipping their chatterboxes. Since we've started, his words have been FLOWING out. His words and sound effects. When he says puppy, he instantly hangs his tongue out and pants. And when he says horse, he wiggles his butt to wag the tail.

Who doesn't just love kids?