19May

When Willa Turns Four

Willa turns four tomorrow. My petite little pixie, who has marched to the beat of her own drum since she was nine days late to her birth, is turning four. The mind reels.

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Willa is in that blissful stage where she says exactly what’s in her mind, filter not included. Which is why she informed me the other day that, “I won’t miss you when I go to Grampaw’s house. I just really like my aunts better than you.”

She loves playing with Little People, making up stories and telling them to herself. And when she doesn’t have any toys in her hand, she’ll just tell stories with her fingers. I can’t wait until the day she learns to type and I teach her the meaning of the word “blog.”

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She and Ellen have been sharing a bed but Ellen finally asked to sleep on the floor. “Willa keeps me up at night,” she said. And when I’ve gone to check on them, it’s true. Willa will be splayed in the middle of the bed, using all of her tiny frame to take up space and push Ellen off.

Fortunately, they can bond over nail polish and tea parties without having to share a bed.

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Then there’s the special way she loves her sister Mira. I call them the “Twinkles.” Close enough in age to act like twins most of the time. They fight hard, they love hard, they play hard, they laugh hard. They are completely lost without each other. I can’t let them be apart for long, they will devolve into tears. And that is the way it should be.

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Willa still sucks her two fingers and pinches any available skin she can find. When life gets overwhelming to her little self, I’ll find her in a chair busily sucking her fingers, her blue eyes observing the room cautiously.

She is a cautious little creature: scared of dogs, scared of vacuum cleaners, scared of loud toilets. But she’s fiercely independent. Whatever it is to be done, she’ll do it “myseff.”

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And I’m pretty certain, “myseff” will do whatever she puts her mind to just fine.

Welcome to Four, Noodle. We love you!

*Pictures courtesy of Southern Rose Photography

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Curls For Little Girls – A Tutorial

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People often comment on my girls’ hair and say, “Oh, I wish my daughter had hair like that!” or “I wish I had hair like that!”

Here’s a secret: it’s very possible to bring out the natural curl in almost anybody’s hair.

When I was little, I had some wayward waves and a few cowlicks that we tried to hide in my Dorothy Hamill haircut. I wish someone had known how to baby my curls a little bit and give them the care they needed. Once I finally embraced my curly side as an adult, I’ve learned that curls are much more low maintenance than you think, even on little girls.

  • You don’t have to wash curly hair as often.
  • Curls are very forgiving style-wise. Give ‘em a little fluff, maybe spray them with some watered-down conditioner and they look lovely. They are perfectly imperfect.
  • Less hair-brushing required.

I began coaxing the wave into my girls’ hair just as soon as I saw the first “flip” up of a tuft of baby hair. I immediately switched to baby conditioner ONLY. This is key. Curls need moisture. Otherwise they’re shy. So we have a strict NO SHAMPOO policy around here for all of our ladies.

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Over time, the more moisture those baby waves received, the curlier they became. And slowly, through some years of growing and moisturizing, we turned cowlicks into sweet little girl curls.

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Now, I’m not guaranteeing you a head full of curls, but I am encouraging you to give this a try if you’ve seen the slightest hint of a wave in your little girl’s hair. You might be surprised at the results.

(An Aside: We follow a similar procedure for Mira’s 4a curls, but I am not ready to claim any sort of authority on that yet. The same rules apply: Moisture, moisture, moisture!)

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Since you don’t really brush curly hair unless it’s lathered up with conditioner, it can get tangly. Especially if you’re like me and wait a long time between hair washings because, quite frankly, life is busy. And curly hair in a pony tail is cute no matter how dirty it is.

My best friend for in-between washings (to freshen curls, just spray it on and go) and to pre-treat tangles is this:

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You can achieve the same effect by just adding water to conditioner and putting it in a spray bottle. Make sure the finished mixture feels slippery on your fingers. You want it to create the slip on the curls. Too watery and it will just be… wet.

On washing days, I spray this on any especially gnarly little tangles while the hair is dry and then throw all the girls in the shower.

We wet the hair thoroughly and then I add a round of conditioner. You want to condition the hair first so the hair has as long as possible to soak up the moisture. I started with this much conditioner for Willa, but quickly added a bit more. Her hair is short and thinner.

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Ellen needed about twice this. Take that conditioner and try and coat all of the hair from root to tip. Focus especially on the worst knots. But you want the whole thing to be covered in conditioner.

With Willa’s thinner hair, the conditioner is already on the scalp and I just scrub that around all over with my finger tips to make sure her scalp gets nicely cleaned. (There’s plenty of surfectant/soap in conditioner to clean the hair without drying it out like shampoo.) Ellen’s hair is thicker and I had to put another batch of conditioner in my hand and then add it to her scalp in sections, lifting the hair scrubbing her scalp.

The key is that the original coating of conditioner means you can actually find the scalp to scrub it. If you just condition the ends of the hair without getting to the scalp, you don’t moisturize the hair that’s growing and it will continue to stay dry and not as curly.

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Now that the scrubbing is over, just leave the conditioner to soak into the hair until the very end of the shower or bath. My favorite tool for tackling the tough tangles is this:

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To brush out the hair, start at the tips with your wide-tooth comb or tangle teezer. Brush small sections in small strokes and as you work the tangles out, work your way up the hair to the root. Because you’ve got the hair nice and slimy, you can do this fairly quickly in un-tangled spots and you won’t damage the hair follicle as you comb. Curly hair should never be brushed without moisture on it or you will damage the hair and damage your curl.

Now onto the tangles…

I tell my girls I found a rat’s nest in their hair and I need to work on it. Then I grab the gnarly section and set to work.

You follow the same basic procedure as before, work from the tip up to the root. Ellen is especially tender-headed, so I try to grab the hair firmly in front of the root as I pull the tangle out to protect her scalp.

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She’s convinced she saw the shadow of the rat run out of her hair in the shower tonight. And I’m content to let her believe it if it means she’ll let me get the “nest” out.

When you’re done, the strands will be shiny and happy.

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After the girls have soaped up, we rinse their hair at the very end. I don’t rub their hair dry with the towel. I only use the towel to gently lift the curls and soak up the drips. I lay the towel over their head and press down firmly. Then I put a little bit of gel in my hands. For Willa, it’s this much:

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And this much for Ellen:

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I smear the gel around in my hands and then grab the hair at the bottom and push up with my palms as I scrunch with my fingertips.

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Just takes a few seconds and then you’re done. Let it air dry (you can use a diffuser if you must, but honestly, it’s better to just bundle them up in warm jammies if they’re cold and avoid the blow dryer.)

Best case scenario, at night you would put it up high on the head in a scrunchee (normal pony tail holders will damage the follicle) and let them sleep on a satin pillowcase. That doesn’t really happen in my house but if you can swing it, you should.

It takes time to get hair moisturized properly and get those curls to form. You may not see quick results. But if you stick with it, in a few weeks, you’ll notice a difference. And the results are super cute, don’t you think?

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This is her beach hair, unwashed for days, in and out of the ocean and the pool. See? LOW MAINTENANCE!!

Got any more curly girl tips for me? Leave ‘em in the comments!

And don’t forget to link up with the Parent’hood, too!




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When You Kiss The Canvas

Tonight, as dinner was cooking and I sat down to chat with my boys, Andrew took the girls out in the backyard. Pretty soon, Ellen came trooping back in with a dahlia for me. Next came Willa.

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She’s in her pj’s (backward) at 5 pm because I was trying to get all the fall clothes swapped out this morning before I dressed the girls. However, I was missing a box or two from storage and couldn’t finish the job and, I’m not quite sure how, this meant the girls stayed in pajamas.

That’s pretty much how the whole day had gone: Backwards and half-dressed.

Mira slept in her “spinny dress” last night because she doesn’t like to have it removed from her body.

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I had to go and buy her a fall version of the Spinny Dress just to avoid an every-other-day fit when the Original Spinny Dress needed to be washed.

My last flower came from this guy:

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It was like my own little Rose Parade.

Although lately Andrew and I have been referring to this life we lead like a boxing match. We tag each other in and out as needed. He does the coffee and breakfast routine. Tag.

I do morning school, laundry, and three hours of basic need meeting. Tag. I go to my room to sit and stare like a boxer who is punch drunk.

Andrew starts lunch until I pull it together and jump back in so we can double team the gang for a few minutes. Tag.

And so it goes. This isn’t to imply that our children beat up on us or make unrealistic demands. It’s just what parenting seven kids feels like right now. And I recognize I’m lucky that most days, I can tag in and out a time or two because Andrew is home.

But I’ve been kissing the canvas a lot these days. (Boxing term for “knocked face down.” Seriously. Look it up. I did.)

We’re blessed. This fight is the Good One. But it’s hard. And I’m no prize fighter. I’m just a girl with bloody knuckles and no time to pee.

But we keep at it.

I may lay face down and beg for mercy, but the Mercy comes in the strength to get up and keep going. The Mercy comes when I can’t so He does. And sometimes, Mercy troops in wearing pajamas and carrying a flower the size of her head.

But it comes. Praise God, Mercy comes. He is glorified all the more when I need Him the most. His mercy makes me live and stand up to fight another round.

So I get up off the mat and, after some chocolate and a good night’s sleep, I’ll come out swinging again.

*What’s your life feel like now? I could have waxed poetic for paragraphs more with the boxing analogy, but I had pity on your eyeballs. Plus, I had to look up almost all the boxing terms I was using. So: Analogize your life for me. (It’s a word. I made it.) Paint me a picture…

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The Home Potty Advantage

We have a system now to prep the house for a showing. I start in a room, clean it, and ban all children from entering it. Then they ignore these rules and I walk back into the same room later and the covers are undone and there’s a plastic shark lying on the bed.

This is the system.

We had two showings this weekend. Andrew and I scurried to clean and the children ran behind us tossing books on the floor. Eventually one of us decided we were close enough to leaving that we could strap the kids in the car while we finished the last little things and picked up all the dang books and why is there water in the hallway and oh, did we flush all the potties, wait a minute, did Willa poop in here????

You must understand, one of my greatest fears in this whole process has been that recently-trained Willa would stealth poop in her little potty and I wouldn’t find it and we’d leave the house for a showing and scare off our buyers with little Willa droppings.

Seriously, it keeps me up at night.

Because she’s sneaky. She’s got a potty upstairs and a potty downstairs and just as sure as I’m breathing she’ll have to poop right before we show the house. Only she’ll do it in the potty I’ve already checked and then not tell me.

Once we came home after a showing and I discovered poop in her potty only to be relieved to learn that she’d made it in the house before me and immediately hit the head without my knowing it.

This little non-event has made me a crazy person.

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Willa playing ping-pong with a flipper. She slays me.

This was made all the more ironic when we were out  house hunting yesterday. We found a lovely home and the kids were running around oohing and aahing. Willa marched up to me and said, “I like this house, Mommy.”

“I’m so glad.”

“We can give our other house away now. That’d be okay.”

“I hope we can.”

She waggled her tiny finger in front of my face. “Only I don’t want NOBODY else pooping in my big girl potty.”

As a woman who has a preference for her home toilet, I can totally understand this.

Fortunately, Willa’s potty is portable, so we can bring it with us no matter where we end up.

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So Happy Together

On Friday afternoon, after two weeks of working and cleaning and purging and painting and storing and moving, I stood in my yard and saw the fruit of our labors.

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Thus ends phase 1 of this adventure. House on the market – Check. Now we just have to keep it clean.

Ha.

We had the house all gussied up on Friday. We took Saturday to just chill and hang out with the kids. There was a showing today. It took us two full hours to undo what the kids hath wrought in 24 hours.

This doesn’t include the marker on the garage floor or the crayon marks on the walls. Because we can’t get those off.

We’re all learning some lessons this week. I’m learning to just pick up something whenever I see it, no matter what, to interrupt whatever I’m doing to tidy. I’m learning yet another layer of patience as I try to let seven kids be seven kids in a space where we don’t want potential buyers to know we have seven kids.

The kids are learning that their lives weren’t really all that difficult after all until we actually needed to keep the house clean. You mean I can’t leave ANY clothes on the floor? What?

“Everything” is in storage or “everything” is on the floor. “Everything” is freshly painted and “everything” must be hidden immediately. The kids have less toys to deal with and yet the messes are just as huge. So we readjust – they work on taking better care and I work on realistic expectations.

We’re talking to the kids about all of this A LOT. We want to answer all of their questions (as if we have all the answers) and we want them to feel part of this decision. This is for them, for our family.

We sat and made a list of what we wanted in a new home. Some of the kids’ answers surprised us. But it united us as a family. We have a goal, a reason for setting out on this adventure.

And we’re doing it together. Faults and foibles, messes and mistakes. We’re learning to love each other a little better through it all.

And then there’s the joy of just having a lovely put-together home. Even if it’s only for a split second. Or the random adventures we’re forced to take during showings. We grabbed lunch after church and headed to a nearby park. We ate a happy meal on a picnic table and enjoyed togetherness, away from our shiny house. The kids ran and sang Newsies songs at the top of their lungs (I am perhaps a bit regretful that I showed them that movie now that they sing All the Songs All the Time.)

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The air was cool, the sky was clear, and we all seemed to feel that the day was a gift. Now I sit on my freshly painted porch with actual furniture (who knew porches were for sitting?) and we rest. We are together.

And that is all we need.

Joining up to help host a synchro-blog with these lovely ladies:

FriedOkra

To Think Is To Create

O My Family

Love Well

Joy in the Journey

Love Feast Table

For more of an explanation of what we’re doing, head over to FriedOkra’s place. The short version is: if you write about parenthood, we want to link you up. You can enter your link on any of the hostesses’ blogs and it will show up at all the other blogs. So whether it’s the funny or the fatal side of parenting, share it with us! We’ll be doing it every Monday. Join us.. we’ll hang out in the ‘hood. No big whoop.



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This Is Me, Savoring…

Is everybody okay if I just make this a brain dump while I finish my coffee? It’s all I’ve got time for and I’m afraid this week will be lost forever if I don’t type something out.

We’re about halfway through the first part of our great adventure. With the exception of the master suite, the rest of the house has been purged, organized, and stored away. It feels like very tidy people moved in.

I don’t know who they are.

The kids are handling this really well. I’ve been careful not to take EVERYTHING off the walls until the very last minute, just so it doesn’t get totally depressing. They each got a box to pack up whatever they wanted to keep and I made myself not even look in the boxes before I sealed them. They got a small number of toys and books to keep out and the rest is stored away.

They’re playing better already. Isn’t that always the case?

We’ve almost filled up an entire 10 x 14 storage unit and I don’t know whether to be proud or really embarrassed. I console myself with the fact that we’ve sold or given away almost as much stuff as we’ve stored. Last night, Andrew went through the whole neighborhood adding a bag of trash to each neighbor’s can who wasn’t already full.

Desperate times…

We’re hiring a painter to come in and cover up some of the more obvious kid marks. Gran and Pops are on their way with a truck and trailer in tow. We’ll do a bunch of landscaping this weekend and we should be ready to go on the market next week. I can’t even think that far ahead.

Andrew and I are hard at work from 8 am until we call a halt at 10 pm. And then we break for ice cream. Finn eats again after that, so it’s midnight before we hit the hay. And then it’s back at it all over again the next day. And we’re still laughing.

I wouldn’t do this with anybody but him.

We wouldn’t be eating if it weren’t for the crockpot. I toss a bunch of ingredients in first thing in the morning so that by 5 pm, when I’m already WRUNG OUT, there’s something to consume. I have every intention of feeding the kids ice cream for lunch today. Just because I can.

Today I’m going to take a slightly slower pace, just to give the kids a break. They’re running through the house with swords, singing songs from Newsies at the top of their lungs. I couldn’t be more proud.

Something in me wants to savor every moment even as the rest of me says, “Keep moving or FALL OVER.”

Nice to know I can always count on being deeply conflicted. One last sip of coffee and then it’s up and at ‘em for me. But first I’m gonna hug this golden-haired girl who curled up next to me…

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The Ordinary Extraordinary

with apologies to Heather of the EO for toying with her name…

Another week that has me spinning like a top. But it’s full of all sorts of good things. Things that seem like such ordinary rites of passage for kids are happening and they feel pretty extraordinary in all their ordinariness.

Ellen is taking a ballet camp. Her head may explode with happy.

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We have our first house pets (since Samson), although they’re really just house guests. We’re baby-sitting our neighbors’ fish. Hours of entertainment for my little people and I don’t have to clean the fish bowl? Yes, please.

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Ian showed off his mad cooking skillz and made pita pizzas for lunch one day. He’s gonna make a great daddy since he can make pizzas smile.

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Sam is on another Lego kick. They’ve all been “inventing” things this week as we’ve studied Robert Fulton and his inventions. This is Sam’s latest pirate ship.

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Finn tried out a bath in the big bathtub. He hated it. Lesson learned.

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I finally bit the bullet and began potty training Willa. I know it’s a bit late, but I’ve been busy. I’ve got an extra set of hands here to help me this week because I still wasn’t sure how to balance nursing and schooling with running to the potty every five minutes.

Best decision ever.

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My little pixie far exceeded my expectations and not only stayed mostly dry, she even TOLD me when she needed to go. And she did the “major business” in the potty tonight, too. She earned herself a Reese’s Cup.

Mira wasn’t too pleased to learn she couldn’t have the same candy as her sister. I told her when she pooped in the potty, she could have one, too. Which would explain this little episode in hilarity:

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It didn’t get the result she wanted, but it sure made me smile.

These are the things that make my head spin and my heart full this week. What sort of ordinaries feel extraordinary to you tonight?

p.s. I didn’t forget Adam. He’s been under the weather for awhile now and, sadly, mostly sits and coughs. Stupid asthma. But he’s got a birthday coming. And I’m in PARTY PLANNING MODE. Gonna be fun!!!

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Road Tripping Down Memory Lane

The three girls took a jaunt with Finn and me this Saturday to visit Aubrey. (Mira was asleep when I snapped this photo.)

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While we were there, Aubrey gave me the handprints that we had done of Mira months ago.

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She also gave me some of Sam and Ian that she made years ago. Sob. My babies!

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I had a quick errand to run and left my people with Aubrey’s people. This is the first time we’ve left Mira with anyone other than The Approved Few. When I came back, Mira was asleep in Sara Grace’s lap. I think she’s gonna be just fine, y’all.

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I was in a hurry to hit the road before Finn’s next feeding, so I tossed everyone in the car and headed out. As I pulled on to the interstate, swigging my large iced tea, I had a flashback to almost exactly five years ago. I was a nursing mother with four kids. We were in between states, living with my family in a town two hours from Andrew’s job, house hunting, and generally insane.

I would take long road trips with the kids by myself and would have to go on a liquid fast because I couldn’t stop to pee. I couldn’t logistically figure out how to get four kids three and under into a bathroom stall with me, so my plan was to just drive to the bitter end or explode trying.

The end result was pretty epic blog fodder. These blog posts usually ended with me pulled over on the side of the road at a particular liquor store, nursing a baby.

Five years later, I giggled at the memory, pondered where life has taken us, and kept driving. Then Finn took up to caterwauling.

Fortunately, wouldn’t you know it, my very favorite liquor store was on the horizon.

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And so, sure enough, once again, Wayne’s Package Store saved the day for this solo parenting excursion. A quick search revealed that I’ve used it as an emergency stop off point for several babies. Who knew it would become such a part of my children’s legacy?

I wonder if Wayne’s could use this as a marketing strategy…

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The Root Of Sisterly Affection

During small group today, Mira fell asleep in an obliging set of arms. (It’s not that our meetings are boring, it’s just that we interrupt her nap time to have them. Really.) After we finished our study, Mira was laid down next to her very sleepy sister for a snooze.

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Willa woke up before Mira did.

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And was happy to see her sister by her side.

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And, well, nothing says “sisterly affection” like doing a little split-end patrol.

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Slammin’ Pints

I’m putting down my pint of Haagen-Dazs just long enough to write a bit. This should be a good indicator of my state of mind. I’m overwhelmed, I’m sinking, I’m drowning, but my heart is so full of all the good things, funny things, amazing things that fill my time.

Like Willa. See those sweet little silver sandals on her feet?

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Those are her church sandals. Sassy, yes?

The other day, in the mad rush to get to church on time, I noticed Willa had on her clunky red tennis shoes. “Go put on your sandals.”

“No. I wan’ wear these. These will be fine, Mommy.”

Because I still couldn’t figure out which shoes I would be wearing, I caved and let the child wear what she wanted. Her little victory appeared to go unnoticed until later, during communion, Willa turned to the girl sitting behind her, stuck out her foot and gloated, “Look at the shoes I’m wearing!”

Cheeky thing.

And then there’s the time when I was so mentally unbalanced as to allow my three boys to bake brownies. I got out all of the ingredients, handed them the recipe, and walked away. They got a lesson in fractions, spilled an entire bottle of vanilla, smeared brownie batter on the floor (I think they had some help from their sisters with that one), Adam added ingredients all willy-nilly without measuring and may have overdone it with the baking powder, and they didn’t properly stir things so there were chunks of flour in the finished product.

But, oh, look how proud they were.

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Worth every single grey hair it caused.

Let us not forget my baby.

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Who is four months old. And absolutely positively THE most difficult baby we’ve ever begged to sleep through the night. But then he falls asleep on my chest and I regret the push for time to pass as I picture him at 16 driving a car and texting and I have a panic attack and beg him to stay a baby forever.

And that’s how I end up clutching the frozen milk fat so closely. Because motherhood makes you certifiable with all the crazy deep love that wells up inside you, even when you sigh and cry a lot over lesson plans, someone stealing the candy out of daddy’s desk, and settling a battle between the baby and the 3 year old over a rabbit.

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These people. They make me laugh, they make me cry, they give me anxiety, and they drive me to Haagen-Dazs. But oh, I wouldn’t trade them for the world. Not even for a lifetime supply of mint chocolate chip…

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