After reading our two chapters of Little House on the Prairie, Claire and I made up stories together - I say a part of the story and then she makes up the next part and so on. I recorded one of them below:
Me: One day, Ma and Pa decided to go to town.
C: But Laura stayed home with Ma and Mary went off the school by herself and Mary saw a car and her ran across the street and her telled the teacher that a car almost hit me and when we went back her tell Ma and Pa that I almost got crashed by a car. Is Laura here? Her's sleeping. Her was gone and we didn't see her under the blankets anywhere and her runned across the street by herself and her ran to a far away country California. And Baby Carrie was sleeping and her cried all day and her fell fast asleep.
Me: And then, new neighbors moved next door beside Ma and Pa and Mary and Laura (No Mom - don't you remember that Laura left?) and baby Carrie.
C: A little boy. His name was Asher. And he cried a lot.
Me: So Mary decided to babysit Asher.
C: Actually, Laura is in the North Pole and then she went to California and she she went back to the North Pole and then her decided to live in California.
Me: Mary and baby Asher and baby Carrie played some fun games.
C: But her's cried a lot and didn't like the games but Mary didn't care because Ma picked her up and rocked her in a chair that Pa made her and her fell fast asleep at night time and Laura came back home for one second to get a drink of water and then her left to go back to California.
Me: Ma and Pa missed Laura so much that they decided to find her in California [No Mom - they went to the North Pole].
C: And when they looked in the North Pole they didn't find her but they found a head. Do you know what head that was? It was Jack's. He was buried in a hole and was stuck but he got out.
Me: Then they started asking people if they had seen a little girl named Laura.
C: But noone said yes but man who lived in the North Pole he said Laura is in Michigan.
Me: So Ma and Pa drove the wagon all the way to Michigan to find her. They went to a city named Holland and went to look for Laura at the beach there.
C: But they didn't find her.
Me: They got really sad and started to cry because they wanted Laura back home.
C: Soon they looked in California and they found her. They cried and cried and said we miss you and miss you and love and joy and they said a Christmas song and they said a song: Good news good news and unto Bethlehem is born a boy [at this point, Claire is singing]. And Laura started singing with them. And they were so happy to see Laura again and they gave her 500 kisses.
The End.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Hmm
A friend and I recently had a conversation about how to talk about and use alcohol in the presence of our children.
She asked me what Jon and I have done.
I told her that we haven't talked specifically about it to the kids.
I then had an immediate flashback to the previous night when, at dinnertime, David looked at my glass of red wine on the table and said "Not beer Mom. It's wine."
She asked me what Jon and I have done.
I told her that we haven't talked specifically about it to the kids.
I then had an immediate flashback to the previous night when, at dinnertime, David looked at my glass of red wine on the table and said "Not beer Mom. It's wine."
Do you dare me Mom?
Claire has discovered the world of "dares".
I think she picked it up from a neighbor friend of hers, but I don't quite think she learned the whole concept.
At breakfast this morning:
Claire: Mom, do you dare me to eat my cereal? (she's already eating it)
Mom: OK. I dare you.
Claire takes a big bite of cereal. Big smile. Then she says "I did it."
I think she picked it up from a neighbor friend of hers, but I don't quite think she learned the whole concept.
At breakfast this morning:
Claire: Mom, do you dare me to eat my cereal? (she's already eating it)
Mom: OK. I dare you.
Claire takes a big bite of cereal. Big smile. Then she says "I did it."
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Oh...of course
Claire drew a family picture today and then described it to me. The stick figure that represented herself had squiqqly lines all over the head. When I asked her what that was all about she replied,
"The wind is blowing my hair".
Of course.
Then, when I asked her to draw a picture of Grandma, she came back with a picture of a rainbow. I asked her where Grandma was and she said very matter of factly,
"The airplane came here (she pointed to a spot in the picture) and then Grandma got on it and then it flew off the page."
Of course.
"The wind is blowing my hair".
Of course.
Then, when I asked her to draw a picture of Grandma, she came back with a picture of a rainbow. I asked her where Grandma was and she said very matter of factly,
"The airplane came here (she pointed to a spot in the picture) and then Grandma got on it and then it flew off the page."
Of course.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Of weddings and things...
I remember when Jon and I got married and my mom and dad gave us a long list of names of people they wanted to come (it probably wasn't long but it felt like that to me!).
Yesterday Jon and I went to the wedding of the son of one of our friends. Our names were on that long list of parents' friends that the bride and groom "had" to invite.
It felt right to be there, to be there more for our friends than for the bride and groom. As I sat there in the back of the church nursing Jacob, I teared up as I watched our friends walk their grown son down the aisle. All those late night feedings, those discussions when the kids are in bed about how best to parent, all the worries and joys and fears and hopes wrapped up together in a celebration of a child leaving his parents and starting his own family.
As I watched all of the college friends of the bride and groom interact, I reflected on the 10 years that have passed since I graduated from college. I remember that sense of possibility, of having the world at your feet, of being overwhelmed at the many different paths my life could have taken.
And, as I listened to the sermon on marriage, I reflected on my own marriage. It's good to hear wedding sermons through the lenses of one's own marriage. It's good to remember your own excitement on your wedding day. It's good to hear the vows again. It's good to celebrate God's goodness and faithfulness in marriage relationships.
It was a great wedding.
Yesterday Jon and I went to the wedding of the son of one of our friends. Our names were on that long list of parents' friends that the bride and groom "had" to invite.
It felt right to be there, to be there more for our friends than for the bride and groom. As I sat there in the back of the church nursing Jacob, I teared up as I watched our friends walk their grown son down the aisle. All those late night feedings, those discussions when the kids are in bed about how best to parent, all the worries and joys and fears and hopes wrapped up together in a celebration of a child leaving his parents and starting his own family.
As I watched all of the college friends of the bride and groom interact, I reflected on the 10 years that have passed since I graduated from college. I remember that sense of possibility, of having the world at your feet, of being overwhelmed at the many different paths my life could have taken.
And, as I listened to the sermon on marriage, I reflected on my own marriage. It's good to hear wedding sermons through the lenses of one's own marriage. It's good to remember your own excitement on your wedding day. It's good to hear the vows again. It's good to celebrate God's goodness and faithfulness in marriage relationships.
It was a great wedding.
Keri the super star babysitter
Keri, one of our Hope super star babysitters, moved in with us this past week.
She just got back from a semester in Australia and is taking a one month class at Hope. She doesn't have a ton of money and needed a place to stay, so we offered our house.
It's beautiful to see how much our kids love being with her. She plays with them, she makes them laugh, she enjoys spending time with them.
And we enjoy her. She inspires me to play more, to live life more fully.
She just got back from a semester in Australia and is taking a one month class at Hope. She doesn't have a ton of money and needed a place to stay, so we offered our house.
It's beautiful to see how much our kids love being with her. She plays with them, she makes them laugh, she enjoys spending time with them.
And we enjoy her. She inspires me to play more, to live life more fully.
"They are the best times..."
After church this morning, an older couple stopped to talk with me. They obviously knew who I was because the gentleman made some sort of comment about how he couldn't believe I had three kids already, that he remembered me back when Jon and I were just married. I made some comment about how I'm much busier now.
Then he said, in a reflective sort of way, "Those are the best times you know. They're hard but they're also the best."
I think this is now about the 10th time someone has said something like this to me in the past few months. The timing of these comments always come at strangely appropriate times. Last night at dinner, Jon and I were both hot, tired, and annoyed at our unappetizing food selection and unruly kids. We didn't have a good meal.
Is it a matter of romanticizing life with small, demanding children? Is it a matter of forgetting what it's like to feed a baby several times in the night, to break up fights between a 2 and 4 year old over who gets what color of plate, to discover a dirty diaper on your way out the door when you're already late for something?
Or, it is something that people in my stage of life need to constantly be reminded of? That because of the immediate/extensive demands that young children present, we don't or perhaps even can't always have that glorious "this is such a privilege to be able to do with" perspective unless those outside of our demographic remind us of this.
Then he said, in a reflective sort of way, "Those are the best times you know. They're hard but they're also the best."
I think this is now about the 10th time someone has said something like this to me in the past few months. The timing of these comments always come at strangely appropriate times. Last night at dinner, Jon and I were both hot, tired, and annoyed at our unappetizing food selection and unruly kids. We didn't have a good meal.
Is it a matter of romanticizing life with small, demanding children? Is it a matter of forgetting what it's like to feed a baby several times in the night, to break up fights between a 2 and 4 year old over who gets what color of plate, to discover a dirty diaper on your way out the door when you're already late for something?
Or, it is something that people in my stage of life need to constantly be reminded of? That because of the immediate/extensive demands that young children present, we don't or perhaps even can't always have that glorious "this is such a privilege to be able to do with" perspective unless those outside of our demographic remind us of this.
I had forgotten
I had forgotten how time and energy intensive potty training is.
Between constantly asking David if he has to go to the bathroom and then cleaning up after him when he forgets and then applauding him when he remembers, it's a lot of work.
I had forgotten some of the things that happened when I was potty training Claire. It's funny how they're now resurfacing, in very acute ways.
The time when she peed as she was sitting on my lap during a meal. The time she peed when we were out shopping and because I had neglect to bring any extra clothes along, we left the store (and the puddle) wet. The time we went hiking with Claire and she tried to poop in the woods a dozen times. The many hours we spent reading potty training books to her, trying to get her used to the idea of using the toilet.
These experiences have taught me a few things. With David, we skipped the literature and went straight to the bribing (fruit loops and marshmellows). This past week we haven't ventured out of the house unless it was absolutely necessary. We move the potty to whichever room he's in. We're hesitant to declare success because we know it takes time.
Something I did remember about Claire and potty training was the absolutely euphoric feeling I had when she finally learned. I can't wait to feel it again.
Between constantly asking David if he has to go to the bathroom and then cleaning up after him when he forgets and then applauding him when he remembers, it's a lot of work.
I had forgotten some of the things that happened when I was potty training Claire. It's funny how they're now resurfacing, in very acute ways.
The time when she peed as she was sitting on my lap during a meal. The time she peed when we were out shopping and because I had neglect to bring any extra clothes along, we left the store (and the puddle) wet. The time we went hiking with Claire and she tried to poop in the woods a dozen times. The many hours we spent reading potty training books to her, trying to get her used to the idea of using the toilet.
These experiences have taught me a few things. With David, we skipped the literature and went straight to the bribing (fruit loops and marshmellows). This past week we haven't ventured out of the house unless it was absolutely necessary. We move the potty to whichever room he's in. We're hesitant to declare success because we know it takes time.
Something I did remember about Claire and potty training was the absolutely euphoric feeling I had when she finally learned. I can't wait to feel it again.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Potty party
We're partying around the potty these last few days in the hopes that David will enter the world of the toilet trained.
We've only had nominal success so far but my enthusiasm for not having 2 kids in diapers will not be dampened. I'm banking on the success we had with Claire. Her big moment was when Grandma bought her "big girl underwear" and commented that it must feel so nice when they are dry.
Aunt Laura bought David the cutest boxer/briefs and he struts around the house in them as if he's been wearing them for years.
There was a moment today when I decided I would take a picture of him in his "big boy underwear". It had been a good few hours and I thought we were making progress. I wanted to document the achievement.
On my way to get the camera I slipped on the puddle of pee in the living room.
We've only had nominal success so far but my enthusiasm for not having 2 kids in diapers will not be dampened. I'm banking on the success we had with Claire. Her big moment was when Grandma bought her "big girl underwear" and commented that it must feel so nice when they are dry.
Aunt Laura bought David the cutest boxer/briefs and he struts around the house in them as if he's been wearing them for years.
There was a moment today when I decided I would take a picture of him in his "big boy underwear". It had been a good few hours and I thought we were making progress. I wanted to document the achievement.
On my way to get the camera I slipped on the puddle of pee in the living room.
Kathryn Grace and Asher Kallum
My good friend Heidi just had her 3rd baby - Kathryn Grace.
My sister Sarah also just had her 3rd baby - Asher Kallum.
Beautiful names. Beautiful babies. Rock star mammas.
My sister Sarah also just had her 3rd baby - Asher Kallum.
Beautiful names. Beautiful babies. Rock star mammas.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Changes
Jacob sprouted his first two teeth (just today).
David wore "big boy underpants" for half an hour (we're still have a long way to go before he's potty trained but the journey has officially begun!).
Claire is now very proficient at swinging on a swing all by herself.
These changes are inevitable. They need to be celebrated. But they also represent the many small steps to independence that my children will take in the years to come. And they are all good reminders that I need to be celebrating the present.
David wore "big boy underpants" for half an hour (we're still have a long way to go before he's potty trained but the journey has officially begun!).
Claire is now very proficient at swinging on a swing all by herself.
These changes are inevitable. They need to be celebrated. But they also represent the many small steps to independence that my children will take in the years to come. And they are all good reminders that I need to be celebrating the present.
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