Even More Space

Ginger lost her other front tooth this morning with a minimum of fuss or fanfare. Here's to hoping the tooth fairy remembers to come tonight. (I'm fairly certain she didn't come last night because she knew she'd be having to come again so soon-- why make two trips when you can make do with one?)

I think Ginger looks awfully cute when she's missing a few teeth. Maybe a career in hockey should be in her future. Congratulations, Ginger!

Space in Her Face

Ginger lost her first top front tooth this morning at breakfast. By the time she got home from school, the remaining top tooth was more than a little skewampus.

As the afternoon wore on, the remaining tooth became more and more crooked and was kind of tilted sideways, so it looks rather like she just has one front tooth, right in the center. Things were going alright, until Ginger's tooth flipped completely around a few times and was facing backside-out. It's still attached to a hunk of gum, so it hurt and she freaked out a little.

As you can see, the tooth doesn't really sit in it's place anymore and she's not quite sure what to do with it. Hopefully it will fall out tomorrow so both she and it will be out of their misery. (Plus, I really can't understand much of what she's saying. It's as though she suddenly learned a new language)

Sunny Day

My sister, Martha, brought her family for a visit for their spring break. It was nice to see them and get some outside time in the sun before the snow hit (note that we are wearing our shirtsleeves). I still can't believe that it was so sunny and warm and now I have 6 inches of snow in my yard.

Cindy Lou wasn't super excited to have her picture taken:

We love Ginger and her delightful personality:

It was really much too bright in the sun to be taking pictures, but we tried a few anyway. Here's Bud with his cousin The Wizard:

Newton was running around too much to get a satisfactory picture, but I had to prove he was there-- so here you go:

Pen, taking a few shots at the basket:

We really had a lot of fun, although Big had his moments of extreme sadness. He wanted help shooting in the hoop, but none of us there were tall enough to get the job done. It ended up that all he really wanted was to give it a try. After I helped him a few times he was happy to just shoot from ground level, practice dribbling, and get some assists (thank goodness).

It was really a very nice and relaxing day. Except for the end, that is. Trying to get Big to come inside to get ready to go was a bit of an ordeal. I had to relive that ordeal again last night, in fact. Apparently Big was having nightmares about being forced to come inside and was yelling in his sleep, "I don't want to come inside! Stay outside! I want to stay outside!" Not so pleasant to deal with the first time, and definitely not fun the second time when I would have rather been sleeping.... but, what could I do? I'll make up the sleep someday, right?

Thanks for coming, cousins!

Thanks, From Both of Us

In regards to my last few posts..... well, I have one word that I believe can explain it all. HORMONES. It's amazing how much better I feel today. Throwing pots on Friday was a great stress reliever, but I don't think that was entirely my problem.

Anyway, we'd both like to thank you for your kindness and words of encouragement. Yes, both my hormones and I are grateful for such good friends. Hopefully one of us (I don't want to point any fingers here) won't drive you away with their cantankerous behavior.

Say Thank You, Mom

Being in a mental funk (see previous post) does not a pretty mommy make. No. Not pretty at all. As I burst into tears for the umpteenth time today, I grabbed Big and held him-- not for comfort, but to keep the troublemaker (yes, that's what he was today) from making more trouble for a moment. Just one moment! Is that too much to ask?! Today, apparently, it was.

Anyway, as I'm holding Big (all the while cursing that body busting workout I did this morning that is making my arms ache and quiver, and he's so darn heavy!) he begins to rub my back. Up and down, up and down. Then he says to me, "Say thank you." "What?!" I say. He replies, " I'm rubbing your back... say thanks." So, I said "thank you" and laughed a little. What else could I do?

Slacking Off

If any of you, my faithful readers, are still around, I'd like to apologize for slacking off on writing blog posts. There are many reasons for this decline.

Firstly, you'll have to admit, I kind of started out like a bull rushing the gate-- can anyone really be expected to keep such a pace indefinitely?! In some months, the number of posts exceeded the number of days in the month! Can you say "overeager"? Just a tad, perhaps.

Secondly, my life seems to be a heck of a lot more boring these days. Maybe the kids aren't being as fun or as cute or maybe it's just my perception of it that isn't the same. Anyway, there just doesn't seem to be as much going on.

Thirdly, I have entered the world of facebook. Maybe if I didn't spend so much time trying to think of witty "status updates" and comments about what my friends have posted, I would be thinking more about what I should post on my blog. Plus, I no longer have to write a whole blog post about something that can be taken care of with one little status update. Yes, it's quite likely that facebook is evil. It's just so nice to be back in touch with old friends!

Fourthly, (and I think this is truly what is causing the decline in posts) I am in a mental funk. I had several Laundry Queen-shaking experiences last year which I thought would fade from memory and eventually cease to bother me. Well, I was wrong. Nagging self-doubt has reared it's ugly head, and doesn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. The whole experience has left me feeling mentally checked-out and I'm not quite sure how to fix it.

I'll work on getting more posts out there for you to read, unless of course those of you who follow a gazillion blogs (you know who you are) are more happy with my current output, then I'll re-think the matter.

Twins

The other day, Rophone and Big ended up dressing in pretty close to matching outfits. Big was so happy to look like his daddy. As I was taking these pictures, I couldn't help but think of Mini-Me from "Austin Powers" or even the movie "Twins".

As long as the whole "matching" thing doesn't happen too often, or extend to Rophone and me walking the mall in matching outfits with our arms wrapped around each other-- his hand in my back pocket, mine in his. Then I'll know we're in trouble. It's important to stop these things early, you know, before you do something you'll regret.

Blank Stares

I ended up watching a few boys extra for a good chunk of the day today. One of my friends had a migraine, so I became the mom of 5 boys age 6 and under for awhile. After a few hours, the 6 year old headed to kindergarten, leaving me with boys aged 4, 3, 2 and 1. It was just fine-- went better than I expected, actually.

With the older boy gone, it gave Bud and Ben a chance for some one-on-one conversation. We don't watch a lot of TV or movies around here, and movies are something Ben is really into. The conversations went pretty much like this:

Ben: "Don't you love in Madagascar 2 when the....?"

Bud: (blank stare)

Ben: "Or what about in Homeward Bound when the...?"

Bud: (blank stare)

After a little while, Bud started playing Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" album for Ben, singing along to the songs as they came on. Then this conversation occurred:

Bud: "Did you know that Stevie Nicks, Christy McVie and LIndsey Buckingham all sing on song #4 on this album?"

Ben: (blank stare)

Oh, how it made me laugh! I guess that none of these interactions can really be called "conversations". Not more than one-sided ones, anyway. It was a fun day. Bud and Big loved having friends over for such a long play date, even if the verbal interactions didn't get very far. But I guess that's what hangin' with the boys is all about.

No Escape

With how much I limit the amount of television my kids watch, I felt pretty secure in the fact that they would pretty much remain untouched by the whole Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus/Disney stuff. They might know about all of it, sure, and have some small exposure from outside sources, but knowing of something's existence and having an intimate knowledge of it are two completely different things.

I was foolish to think that my kids would remain unsullied by the Disney music empire. It wasn't Disney I underestimated, I underestimated Ginger and her knowledge of electronics. The girls have a boom box which they use to listen to CDs and the radio. It was all going along smashingly-- until Ginger discovered Radio Disney on 910 AM. Eeek.

Now all the kids sing Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus songs. Even the baby! It was this afternoon that I finally had to admit that I've lost the good fight. The realization occurred when I overheard Bud playing "church" this afternoon. He was pretending to be teaching a class and I heard him refer to "The Gospel of The Jonas Brothers". It made me laugh (but on the inside I was crying). My world will never be the same again.

The Squirmies

I tried to get the boys to sit still on the fireplace so I could snap a few shots. Being young (and being boys), they had a case of the squirmies so found it to be a difficult task. I had a hard time getting both boys in focus in the same shot since it was a lot of Bud chasing Big around and trying to sit next to him for the picture. So, ignore the blurs, and just enjoy the process.

You can tell that Big was less than excited about being pinned down for the shot. Big scooched all of the way down the fireplace with Bud in hot pursuit and finally ran out of scooching room.

Big was perfectly happy with the big orange basketball he was holding-- until his brother went and grabbed Big's brand new ball. His favorite. He wants it so badly!

I love the way Big is eyeing the coveted ball in this picture, but is restraining himself.

I convinced Bud to trade balls with Big so Big could have his favorite. Luckily, Bud was hip to the idea and made the switch. Ah. Much better.

I love the way Bud and Big interact with each other. I never get tired of watching (well, except when they're fighting-- that can get old at warp speed, I admit). Happy. That's what they make me.

Birds and Boogers

Big loves to look out the picture window in our living room in hopes of seeing a bird or two. He stands on the couch, propped against the back cushion, and just watches, alerting us all when he is successful in spying what he's looking for. "Birdie! I see birdie! Birdie flying!"

Here are a few pictures of Big looking for birdies:

And here you see what may occur if the bird-watching is a little slow:

Big discovered his nostrils fairly recently and, for the moment, seems to be satisfied with just testing the fit of his finger. He has not yet progressed to actual picking, or (shudder) eating what he finds. I'm sure that is soon to follow, however. (sigh) Good thing he's so cute.

The Storyteller

Bud has developed a great love for telling stories. In fact, he is becoming quite the storyteller. The other day, I asked him to tell me a story and then photographed the process. He told me a grand story about a princess and a witch. I found it quite entertaining!

Here is Bud agreeing to my request:

Giving some thought to how the story should start:

Here we go:

Getting to the meat of the story:

A little humor near the end...

...followed by a happy ending.

Thanks for the great story, Bud! I love to hear them!

Ironing is Fun! Right?!

I spent a good chunk of time ironing a few items this afternoon (7 shirts and 1 skirt, to be exact. Not that I'm keeping track). Let me just tell you how much I hate ironing-- I hate ironing! Probably has something to do with all of my dad's handkerchiefs, and shirts I had to iron as a kid. Not to mention the flat sheets I spent my time on (I know-- you're thinking, who really does that?! Well, now you know!).

As I struggled to get the more stubborn wrinkles out of shirts big and little today, almost burning my face in the process (don't ask), my eye noticed the dent in the plaster from the last time I ironed (again, don't ask)-- clearly, ironing is not my forte. I'm sure I could be good at it if I really tried, but I am obviously lacking passion for it. I have absolutely no desire to excel in the field of ironing.

While ironing, I began to wonder-- who is it that decided that clothes look better pressed? Is it a decision made by some iron inventor who, through some clever advertising at the local mercantile, convinced the world to buy his irons, because clearly being well-pressed was the way to go? Or is it something that we have been born with? An innate desire to be wrinkle free?

It's not that I don't have that desire to be wrinkle free-- I just prefer to be wrinkle free without having to iron! Rophone has, in the past, stopped me on my way out the door, made me strip, and ironed my clothing for me. Rophone has been in charge of doing virtually all of the ironing for 14 years, so I've decided it's time to turn over a new leaf. Time to give Rophone a break and take my turn at the board. It's time for some sacrifice and selfless giving on my part. That's what marriage is all about, right?

And, admittedly, when I think of ironing as something I'm doing for Rophone as a surprise or a special treat ( I mean, who wouldn't rather find ironed shirts in their closet instead of wrinkled ones?), it makes it almost enjoyable! (Okay, so that is stretching the truth a little-- but I don't hate it as much, really!)

Unscathed

No real commentary for this post. Here are some shots of what the other kids looked like after arriving home from church unscathed:

This is what a growing boy looks like (he only naps when he's growing):

He crawled up on his unmade bed to play cars this afternoon and this is how we found him an hour later.

Looks like I'll need to measure him in the morning. ; )