Naughty Night Owl

It's 10:30pm. Do you know where your 2 year old is?

The Big E gets a big F

You win some, you lose some. Last weekend we joined some friends and took the girls to Springfield, Massachusetts for the Big E, New England's county fair. So, being "New England" and all, I went expecting this:




And instead, we saw more of this:

















Where was the apple cider? the bales of hay and pie contest? OK, New Englanders, we'll give you another chance but we have learned our lesson. The food was good but it did cost us two children, my arm and Clark's leg. I suppose we learned that carnivals are the same no matter where you live. What a comforting thought, that I can count on the carnies the same in Massachusetts as I can in Texas.

Mr. Bean and serious indigestion...

Last weekend was one of those shining moments in family history. Everyone was cooperative and nice and cheery. We woke up Saturday morning, did chores and then had fun. It was a blissful day that I thoroughly enjoyed....again, we need those to remind us how much we like this life because let's face it, the day to day can get tough.
We took the girls to see Mr. Bean's Holiday. I didn't used to think Mr. Bean was that funny, until I had kids...I suppose that maybe my sense of humor has...let's see, what's the opposite of "matured"...regressed? Now don't take offense if you have always love Mr. Bean...I did love the Christmas episode where he said "Christmas socks". Anyway, our outing to the theater started nice enough as the young clerk took is upon himself to give us a friendly discount. He told us that all of our kids looked 3, though we assured him that they were not. Oh well, two adult tickets it was. Mia was even well behaved through the movie. We laughed and giggled and laughed and enjoyed it together. And it made us happy.
BUT, one of the main points of my story is this: stay with me, in the end it was genuinely though provoking. The best part of the movie was when Haley dropped her CTR ring
into the popcorn. I didn't really think anything of it, we'd just find it at the bottom when we were done, until Clark so chivalrously pointed out the manner in which our three little ladies were scarfing popcorn puffs by the fistful. Worried that one of them might actually ingest the ring before we hit the bottom of the bag, we used the light from a cell phone and fished it out...Haley thought that was a fun game.
So then this is my thought process...heh, they could swallow the ring...I wonder if that's dangerous?...then I laughed a little harder at the prospect that this little swallowed CTR ring might provide them with that little nagging feeling deep within to Choose the Right...but, was that the sort of "gut-wrenching" nagging feeling from the depths of their bowels the kind of poking nuisance that I wanted?...I somewhat quickly answered "no" and we proceeded with the search and rescue.
But in all reality let me leave you on this note. How can we as parents...meaning, how capable are we and to what capacity is it possible that we instill in our children the genuine desire to do what is right? How do we strengthen their conscience, so to speak? It's the age old debate of nature versus nurture...Clark and I have the conversation frequently. To what degree can we influence and where does their innate personality take over? Human development was part of my major and I can tell you that it is a frustrating and un-answerable question. I suppose that is where we let the Spirit step in and guide us...and our faith in the Lord and the atonement allows us to let our children go.
So to drag down the lighthearted story with ponderings in parenthood...but I wonder?

We have crab...no more.

It had to happen eventually. The reason I didn't want a pet is because they die. I wish I could say that I hate seeing my children in pain or I become compassionately and lovingly attached to living creatures....alas, that would be a lie. How does one dispose of a deceased hermit crab without putting into question your tender 4 year old's understanding and love for their very first pet? She wanted a pet so very badly, which is the only reason we gave in on May 1st of this year. She promptly named the crab Susan (we still are not sure where she got it) and I immediately started thinking about how to explain death to a small child. We've talked about the glove, we've talked about Heaven and yet she still was concerned that Susan wouldn't be able to breath in a box if we buried her. It is heartbreaking and she is sad but we are remembering the good times....like all those times she made a break for it across the kitchen floor trying to escape, or the cross country journey she made from Texas to Connecticut, we even bought her two new shells to grow into as a family a few weeks ago...we thought that her unusual behavior had something to do with her growing too big for her shell...we were wrong. She hadn't moved for a while so this afternoon Clark tried to refresh her food and water...when she still didn't move he reached in and picked her up. That's when she fell out of her shell. (PS For those of you not familiar with Hermit Crab way of life...they don't do that.) So did I mention that her cage is hidden in our kitchen cabinet so we aren't looking at it? I don't have the stomach to dispose of or even touch a shell-less crab so I'm waiting for Clark to get home and make a more suitable spot for her final resting place.
We had to break the news to Abby. We spent lots of time talking and explaining and re-explaining but in the end all is well. It was sad but we will move on, pet free for a while.
Susan, we loved you so and you will go down in history as our first (and maybe only) family pet.

Another one bites the dust...in a good way.

I am always so pleased to welcome yet another beloved friend onto blogspot. The conversion is complete. Go give her a warm, computer-blogging-addicted-glazed-over-welcome. She is funny and you will learn stuff too, lots of good useful stuff that will help you feel on top of things and put together. Now go, partake of her personality.

Spontaneously Type A

I blog, therefore I am...

A couple of posts ago I mentioned an article that influenced my blogs greatly. I have so many thing that I would write about...if I had the time I would have 4 or 5 different blogs that all served a different purpose. But for now, this is what I have time for and its what is most important for me to write about. I've come to the somewhat obvious realization that the fact that they occupy 99.9% of my life from day to day means that they must be pretty important...and I am grateful. My husband and my children are my life and there is precious little in this world that should compete with that. It doesn't mean that there aren't other things that I love or other things that could make me happy...but things that require the greatest sacrifice bless us with the greatest rewards. And I can honestly say, even on the toughest of days where selfishness seems to be the answer and only respite, there is no place I would rather be than here with them.

On Being a Mom by Anna Quindlen
If not for the photographs, I might have a hard time believing they ever
existed. The pensive infant with the swipe of dark bangs and the
blackbutton eyes of a Raggedy Andy doll. The placid baby with the yellow
ringlets and the high piping voice. The sturdy toddler with the lower
lip that curled into an apostrophe above her chin.

All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I
take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two
taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same
books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in
their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me
laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and
privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who,
miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food
from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for
the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep
within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of
the past.

Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now.
Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling
rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education,
all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things
Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you
flipped the pages dust would rise like memories.

What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the
playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught
me was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.

Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then
becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it
is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to
positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice
and a timeout.

One boy is toilet trained at 3, his brother at 2. When my first child
was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he
would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies
were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death
syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying,
and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself.
Eventually the research will follow.

I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful
books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts
of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet
codicil for an 18-month-old who did not walk. Was there something wrong
with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little
mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I
insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He
can talk just fine. He can walk,too.

Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes
were made. They have all been enshrined in the
Remember-When-Mom-Did-Hall-of-Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums,
the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed.
The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover.
The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out
of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, "What
did you get wrong?" (She insisted I included that.) The time I ordered
food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without
picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I included that.) I
did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What
was I thinking?

But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while
doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly
clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There
is one picture of the three of them sitting in the grass on a quilt in
the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish
I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they
sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had
not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath,
book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the
getting it done a little less.

Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and
what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought
someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I
suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in
a thousand ways that I back off and let them be.

The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I
was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up
with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than
anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never
told me.

I was bound and determined to learn from the experts.

It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

rain rain don't go away

I miss Texas rain. Texas has rain so heavy and fat that you can't see when you drive...so thick that you are soaked to the bone running from the car to the house. I miss that rain.
I love being inside on a rainy day all cozied up and enjoying my home and the people in it.
Yesterday it rained all day. The girls all got to wear their adorable rain coats and get wet. It was a good day with more energy than I've had in a while (meaning I didn't feel like laying on the couch all day). I made popcorn and we watched a movie. I made a delicious rainy day snack for us and our kind neighbors and then the kids played in the rain while their towels stayed toasty in the dryer. A good day.

For the three of you who didn't already know...

Little Squeeze #4 coming April 2008.

...see the family resemblence?

Sufficiently Insufficient

I allow myself too often to feel the frustration of being insufficient. It's my own fault, I realize this. I have high standards. There is so much to do...correction...there is so much I want to do. As the years continue to creep and sometimes speed past me, I am learning to magnify what I am capable of accomplishing and allowing it to "be enough". But I don't like my house being "clean enough" or my children being "entertained enough". I haven't scrapbooked in three years. I haven't served someone else for way too long. I haven't learned something enriching outside of PBS or making my kids smell good without actually bathing them. My blog lacks depth and introspective reflection...I am trying to journal my time as a mother of young children so as not to forget or lose this precious time to a horrid memory for details. I'll have to post an article that my sister sent me years ago...it's the reason I blog the way I do. For my birthday I am ordering a blog book that compiles and puts into published form my blogs...it is my journal of the day to day. I want to remember. So I blog somewhat regularly. Every two or three months I sit and compose a personal journal entry. It usually goes on for 6, 7, 8 pages to catch up but it is raw and so personal it's difficult for even me to read back on sometimes. Is it enough?
Do power bars supply us with more energy to teach, uplift, serve outside of my own home, clean, study scriptures, study anything else intellectual, enrich hobbies and pursue passions, and still have some left to watch a movie with a loved one at the end of the day? There has got to be a way besides Crystal Meth.
But in all seriousness, is it possible? I have it all, how can I do it all?

Birthday Boy

We wrapped up our yearly birthday extravaganza (four of our five birthdays fall within these two weeks) with a weekend trip away. Clark hit the big 3-0 and doesn't look a day over 28. A good friend of ours did an amazing thing and flew up from VA for the weekend just to watch our kids. (We still don't know anyone here well enough to leave our children with them.) So Mike and Laurie, our travel buddies, gave us Laurie for a few days for Clark's and my birthday. I wish we had had more time to play with her, it was so fun for her to come....fun for us, I'm sure her weekend was more stressful than mine...that's what makes them such good friends!
Laurie flew in on Thursday night--Clark picked her up from the airport so I could take the girls to their first Ballet class. They loved it! Needless to say, we were running a tight schedule so they didn't look enough like pristine Ballerinas to take pictures, I'll get those later.
Laurie and I spent Friday morning tooling around Mystic for some famous pizza and perusing the great shops downtown. Clark got home from school early and we took off for Boston!
We had amazing accommodations thanks to one PKO's Platinum Membership. Our hotel was right downtown and on the 35th floor. Our view was amazing and our bed was beyond heavenly. We felt special and unqualified to be there but soaked it in the best we could.
We hit the town for a quick bite at PF Changs (I love that place and crave it on a regular basis). And just check out our fortunes, we are good together. Then we headed over to the theatre district for a Blue Man Group show. We saw them once in Virginia and loved it. The venue here was much much smaller and almost as entertaining. There were several parts of the show that made us feel as though we were teenagers on some kind of acid trip TPing the neighbor's house. It's hard to explain but it was fun nonetheless. We rode the T back to the mall and capped the night with Ben & Jerry's. It was such a fun evening. We need these times with just one another to slow down and bask in how much we like each other. He is so fun to be with and I just love being near him.
The next morning we ordered room service and enjoyed a delicious meal of bacon and eggs and creamy hot chocolate next to our incredible view of the Charles River and downtown Boston. Then Clark laid on the couch and delved into one of his Birthday books while I took a bath...ahh. We zipped by Faneuil Hall for a short shopping jaunt then headed home to relieve poor Laurie and take her out for some fun and relaxation before she had to return home this morning to her own brood.
We took her to the Mohegan Sun Casino and Resort because it's close and really a site to behold in the calm, wooded New England landscape. We took advantage of Kid Quest, an unbelievable kids' center full of play structures, dress ups and unlimited, free arcade games...I felt guilty like I was shoving them into a den of zombie brain suckers where they were conditioning my kids early to be hopeless gamblers...not too guilty to leave them however so we left for and hour or so and got amazing food at Uncas American Indian Restaurant down the corridor. When we picked them up they enjoyed the eye candy and smoke filled atmosphere of the casino...though we tried to leave before our lungs were too saturated with cigar smoke.
Laurie left early this morning, so sad to see her go. Thank you PKO and Laurie for allowing us to have a fun adult's night away...we have been sufficiently celebrated and rejuvinated!

The bus that never came...

We finally joined the rest of the country today and started school. It was a rough day. I woke up with school jitters an hour early and couldn't fall back asleep. Haley was cool as a cucumber. We were ready 45 minutes early and watched High School Musical 2 until it was time to wait for the bus. We were ready with spiffy new school gear and met our eager neighbors outside where we took pictures and watched the corner for the big yellow bus. The was Haley's first year to ride the bus so we were especially excited as we waited, and waited...and waited. So the time for school to start came and we figured that the bus's absence was not just due to a 1st day delay. We jumped in the car and arrived to school just a couple of minutes late...no worries, there were lots of "bus mishaps" this morning. She went beautifully and came home on the bus all smiles. She reported a good day at school but a stinky playground.
Abby had her first day at Pre-K...there has been very little communication with this program so we thought it did start today...then heard that it was starting Friday. So we stopped by this morning after dropping Haley off to talk to her teacher about some things and lo and behold, it started today. So we went home, got together her backpack and snack and got her back in time for her afternoon class...then she came home with a fever.
It's been a long day. I have such mixed emotions about school. Am I excited or sad? I don't really know...but the girls are happy and it is rather fun to wait for the bus. It's a good start, I suppose, to years and years more of school going children.
On Sunday we decided to take advantage of our last summer weekend with a spontaneous trip to Palmyra, New York. We hopped in the car after church and made our way to beautiful Palmyra. It was a short trip but we are glad we went with the girls. It is such an incredible part of the country and the weather was beyond pleasant. Highlights of the trip would have to include Abby's 45 minute tantrum at the rest stop because we wouldn't let her potty in the grass, trying to have a spiritual experience with our tender little ones in the Sacred Grove, and finding a pound of rocks in Mia's diaper at Hill Cumorah...rocks that she had stolen from the path at the Sacred Grove...and after the Sister missionaries asked us not to take anything. It was a fun trip and we're glad we did it.

One more candle on the cake...

On September 1, 2005 I became a Mom for the third time, to a third beautiful girl. What an exciting moment for us. At two, her personality is bursting through. She is so funny, clever, silly, tricky and loving. She loves to cuddle, just like her sisters. She has blue eyes and a dimple like me. She is stubborn and fun loving like her Dad. She has a mean streak and can hold her own against her two older sisters. But she loves to be everyone's baby and will gladly be carried around when they play. She loves Shamu...an odd obsession for one so young. (go to the Oscarson Family Blog to see her open her Shamu present.) My, how time flies. We love her to pieces, our Mi Lo.