Anna Joy - 7 Months

I am seven months old....

...and I can sit up!
...and I love to eat.
...and I am still nursing.
...and I chew on my toes...
...and my fingers...
...and your fingers...
...and your face...
...and toys...
...and anything else that I can get my mouth on.
...and I like to swim.
...and I love the bath tub!
...and my favorite thing to do is blow raspberries!
...and I need at least two naps a day to maintain my sweet disposition. Sometime it takes three naps, though.
...and I am on the very cusp of crawling...just need to get everything going in the same direction at the same time!
...and I like watermelon a lot!
...and I will grab at things if I sit in Mommy's lap at the table or at the desk.
...and I have developed and am mastering a Fake Cry.
...and Mommy doesn't fall for the Fake Cry. She laughs!
...and I love to hang out in the Moby wrap while Mommy goes walking.
...and I love to jump in the Jump-A-Roo!
...and did I mention I like to put things in my mouth?
...and I love to put my hands on people's faces.
...and I love when my brother or sisters push me around the yard in a stroller.
...and I just have the entire family wrapped around my drool covered little pinky!

A Really Good Reason To Never Again Laugh At The Follies Of My Friend

This Crazy Friend of mine was allowed to travel. You should check it out. The posts make for some great entertainment. And those little gems...all in a week, people. She's a regular riot.

I may have laughed a bit hard and harassed a bit much, though.

As if this incident weren't enough, I ventured out in the truck again today. While the kids slept in the nice air conditioned house, I gathered up my calendar (the hub of my sanity and keeper of my To Do List) and set out for a few quick errands.

Bookstore, check. Pharmacy, check. With the big things behind me, I headed off to the gas station to fill up the truck. I pulled up to the pump, switched off the ignition, then tossed the keys in the general direction of the seat as I jumped out and pumped some gas.

Being the graceful swan that I am, I tripped as I was getting back into the truck. In an effort to save my face from smashing into something, I grabbed at the steering wheel of the truck to steady myself. As my weight pitched forward, I felt the steering wheel lock up.

I remember the first time that ever happened to me. I was sixteen and at my Great Granddaddy's house and had been running some errands for him. When I got into my car to leave, I found the steering wheel had locked into position. Being afraid to hurt the car, I slipped back inside to interrupt the conversation my Granddaddy was having. The other gentleman was kind enough to come out and 'fix' my car. With a grunt and a jerk, the wheel was loosed, and I was good to go.

This car is remarkably similar to my own Tank. Mine was better, though. ;-)

Since then, I have had loads of practice in such situations. Today, however, I put the key into the ignition and tried to unlock the wheel, but nothing happened. In fact, I couldn't get the ignition to turn. I was trying to turn, but the entire mechanism was stuck.

I did what any Distressed Damsel would do at that point...I picked up my cell phone and called my Knight. He gave me a list of things to do, all of which I had already tried, then apologized and said he was an hour away and couldn't trouble shoot any more that what he had already done. Call the mechanic, honey.

And so I did. We went through the same song and dance to no avail. That wheel wasn't budging. The key wasn't turning. Notta. Zilch. Nothing. Kaput.

While all of this is going on, I made apologies to the different people who pulled up behind me at the pump. 'Sorry ya'll, my truck is broke down.' Several gentlemen valiantly tried to 'help out the little lady', but left with shakes of their heads and apologies.

I also called my mother-in-law, who was home with the kids. Thankfully, all was going well there.

The decision was finally made to call for a tow truck. I ached to have Thomas with me, given his singular obsession with our situation just last week! When the truck arrived, I was awed as they situated it onto the flatbed and I wished with all my might that Thomas could be there. He would have been in Little Boy Bliss.

I even got to ride in the tow truck!!! Oh, my Thomas! I was thinking about you the whole way.

We arrived at the garage where the truck was unloaded. I stepped inside to officially lodge my complaint with the truck to the lady at the desk. The owner came through and told me it would be Thursday or even Friday before he could get to it. I didn't care so much as to the whens, since this is not a primary vehicle, just so long as it was taken care of.

I reached down to grab my keys out of my purse and hand them over. As I started to take the key off the keyring, I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I glanced up to see if anyone was reading my thoughts, mumbled something about needing to get something out of the truck, and made a quick exit.

I got back out to the truck and upended my purse, pawing trough the chap sticks and assorted receipts. Not there. I started looking under and around the driver's seat, and finally, I saw it. A glimmer of silver.

The keys to the truck.

What? The keys to the truck, you ask?

My head was playing back the mental video footage from the gas station. My mind's eye saw the keys being tossed onto the seat as I got out of the truck. I overshot, and the keys fell between the seat and the console. When I got back into the truck, I reached out for my familiar key ring, not really thinking about the fact that the truck called for a different key ring.

Yes. Yes. Yes. There it was. The problem was never the truck. Two hours, a lot of phone calls, several would be Good Samaritans, and a tow truck later, I realized my folly. I had been trying to start the truck with the van keys.

And there you have it. LL, I solemnly swear to make no more witty remarks about your, um, lapses.

Or at least the plane ticket lapse...

At Least I Didn't Lock The Keys In The Car

The morning flew by in a blur of fits of one-up-man-ship and selfishness from the Munchkin Brigade. I finally gathered them all to the table for utter silence while I tossed fruits and yogurts and milk and spinach in the blender to create their nutritional lunch of smoothies. As I sat their glasses on the table, I swear to you, a little person whispered 'My smoovee has more stwawbewwies than yours does.'

How is it that the sing-song nonnie-nonnie-boo-boo lilt is ingrained at birth?

As soon as the kids finished up their lunch, they helped me clean up in the kitchen. I tolerated their crankiness for nearly ten more minutes as I nursed Anna, then shoo-ed all the girls off for nap. Within minutes, there were three very soundly sleeping girls.

Thomas and I took advantage of the quietness, checked with Granny, then jumped in the truck to run a couple of errands. We rolled the windows down, turned the music up, and had a great time letting the wind whip around us.

Our first stop was at the Farmer's Market where we picked up some yummy blackberries for a cobbler that I have been dreaming of. Then we dropped in at the school supply store to grab up a couple of writing tablets for Thomas and Sarah Grace. We actually walked around for quite some time perusing the store. After we had our fill, we went out to the truck, got ourselves all situated, and the truck didn't start. I tried again. And again, and again. Still nothing.

This apparently happens when a vehicle gets as little use as our truck tends to get. Sigh.

I called Joshua. He advised me to check the truck box for jumper cables. I climbed up in the bed of the truck and rooted around in the box until I managed to unearth the cables. Then came the part where I asked the only two people in sight if they would be willing to give me a jump.

Um, Daddy, if by chance you are reading this, look away now. I am about to admit something that I might prefer you not to be aware of.

It wasn't that these people were unwilling, but, as it turns out, we were all women and none of us knew how to use a set of jumper cables.

I called Granny and let her in on what was going on, checked with her again, and the decision was made that she should stay put with the girls until they got up from nap. Then they could all load up and come to fetch the boy and me.

Throughout all of this, Thomas was yammering about calling a tow truck. We could call the tow truck to get us and take us home. The tow truck was red. It made lots of noise. Tow truck.

Tow truck.

Tow truck.

It was all the kid could think of. He could have been offered a hot fudge sundae and never heard it over all the noise the tow truck thoughts were making in his head.

I finally convinced him that we would continue on and finish out our errands. The big thing on our to do list was to get by the civic center and sign up Thomas to play soccer. I proposed an adventure to Thomas, who by now had visions of Tow Mater coming to get us, and told him we could walk to the civic center. By my guesstimations, it wasn't quite two miles away.

Thomas got all excited and his thoughts quickly turned to my friend Laura, who is in Asia. We read her blog regularly and pray for her and her family and the work they are doing there. We also talk about how much walking they do. Suddenly, Thomas decided that we just needed to move to China, where they walk all the time.

I talked him off the ledge of international travel and we set out on our much smaller adventure. Two blocks into it, we came upon a gentleman who, at the moment, seemed friendly enough, and just as I was about to talk to him about possibly borrowing a bit of battery juice, he started barking at some poor soul on the other end of his cell phone.

Not wanting to add to his stress (or mine!!), Thomas and I kept on trucking. We passed a store where we went in and got water bottles. It was 3 in the afternoon. My water disappeared pretty quickly! Of all the days to wear jeans...

We stopped at one point to sit in the shade and enjoy the breeze. We called Joshua to let him know we were fine and a plan was in place. Then we marched on towards the civic center.

Thomas could not be steered toward any topic of conversation other than our predicament. He had idea after idea after idea on how to best handle ourselves. He never complained about the walk or the heat at all, but he managed some pretty hilarious scenarios.

"Well, Momma, if only we had a sign on a stick and a pen we could make a sign that said 'Aubrey Freeman is broken down.'"

'Well, Thomas, that's an idea.', I replied

'Yeah, I have a lot to say on things like brokening down and towing trucking and things like that. A lot to say.'

There were others, but that is the one that I made the voice memo of, so that I would be sure not to lose it in the near empty chasm of my brain.

To wrap things up, we made it to the civic center, got Thomas all signed up to play soccer, and were picked up by Granny and the girls shortly there after. And after the kids went to bed tonight, Joshua and I went to get the truck.

And Daddy, if by chance you are reading this, and you did not look away, I now posses the knowledge of how to use a set of jumper cables.

Chatty Cathy

It was a bit quieter than usual on our way home from church this evening. The older two kids rode home with Joshua, leaving me with the little girls. I thought they would both sack out, but after Anna screamed for the first twenty minutes or so of the ride, I gave up that thought.

Your laughing because I said 'quieter than usual' in that first sentence then mentioned the twenty minute scream in the last sentence, aren't you? It's okay...this is the season of life I am in. The one marked by the definition of quieter meaning only one screaming child rather than two loud (fighting or just happily noisy) voices, one toddler rock star groovin' to her own version of the Alphabet song, and one screaming child.

It's all relative, people.

The screaming child did finally give it up, just as we turned on to 65 South. That is when I heard Elizabeth. Knowing her, she had been merrily chatting away the whole ride, and I had just missed it. Due to the other noise in the car. But as Anna started quieting, I could hear Elizabeth chatting it up big time.

'Wook at duh sky, Mommy! Ih have geen and puuhpuhl and red and o-inge and bwuu and stripies in ih!'

'Where did duh moon go?'

'I tee it, Mommy, I tee duh moon!!!'

'One, doo, fwee, foe, five, tix, teben, eigh, nine, ten, eweben, telve, foeteen, foeteen, fiteen, sitteen, setteen, ateteen, nihteen, dwenty!'

'I dot piggies ih my hair, Mommy. Doo of dem, ih my hair.'

'Yoo wash my bwanket in duh was-sir doday, Mamma? It get cween?'

'Sing Jesus Woves Me adain, Mamma! I sing it wif yoo. O-tay?'

'Dat was a big tuck, Mamma. Ih went fast!'

'I don' hab a window, Mommy.'

'Hab a nack when we det home, Mamma? Do eet, oh, pweez, Mommy?'

'What dat?'

'Dare dose Dom and Gacie and Daddy!'

She kept up a steady stream of conversation and singing and counting the entire rest of the way home. When we pulled in the drive, we sat for a few moments, singing another song or two. Then she stated very matter of factly...

'I done. Go in and eet now.'

That child is my Sunshine, folks. She thrives on smiles. Giving as well as receiving.

Summertime

I love this time of year. It's not quite as intoxicating at 30 as it was at 13, but I still adore summer break. I think baseball fields and swimming and watermelon. Oh, and if I could do all three of those things in one day, I think I would be in a coma of Summer Bliss.

The kids are enjoying these warm days. They spend two long mornings a week in the swimming pool. And lets talk about comas...nap time those days is particularly peaceful. A bomb could go off and those kids might roll over.

What do I do on these days? After I drop the older three at the neighbor's pool for the morning, I tool around and do a little bit of work, a little bit of playing, a little bit of reading, and a lot a bit of loving on my quickly growing Anna.

Yeah, Summer is a time to enjoy. And we are, friends, we are.

In fact, there is a watermelon calling me right now...

Lickity Split

In less than two months, I will have an official five year old. It's a milestone, folks. One that has crept up unbelievably fast. Have I really been a Mommy for five years? It doesn't seem that long, I swear it.

Well, not quite five years. I have a little over a month and a half to go yet.

I'm not rushing it, is all I'm saying.

With age comes advancements in fine motor skills. Some of those motor skills finer than others. For instance, my not-quite-five year old informed me a couple of weeks back that he wanted a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. I responded with the thought that PB sounded like a fine idea for lunch and that I would get to work on the sandwiches in a couple of minutes.

'I can make it, Momma,' he replied.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him no, I would take care of it, when it hit me that this was a pretty simple task. Perhaps I should let him try it. My negative thoughts were that at least peanut butter didn't ooze out of its jar, so I wouldn't have to clean up any spills.

'Okay, Buddy. Go to it.'

It took half a nano-second for him to realize I had given him permission to work unassisted in the kitchen. He flew into action, getting his step stool out, getting peanut butter, bread, and a butter knife. In short order, he was seated at the table eating his well made sandwich. And he had even cleaned up his mess!

Since then, we have had several lunches that included peanut butter sandwiches, all made by Thomas, of course. In fact, if things are really going well, all I have to do is set out the dishes. The kids can pretty well supply their own lunch. Thomas can even fill the cups with water and serve them to everyone.

It is a sweet deal.

Sunday, I was elbow deep in making baby food for Anna when lunch time rolled around. Thomas came into the kitchen and volunteered to make PB sandwiches for everyone. I pulled out the bread and put the proper amount out for him so all he had to do was slather everything with peanut butter. Then I turned my eyes back to the blueberries and the blender. A few moments later, I turned around to see one sandwich complete and Thomas licking the knife.

Then he went to put the knife back in the jar.

'Thomas! Don't lick the knife and then stick it back in the peanut butter, son! You don't lick it until all the sandwiches are done.'

Because everybody knows you lick the peanut butter off the knife, right? Or am I the only one who does that? And, apparently, teaches my children to, as well.

'Oh...' he replied.

I gave him a clean knife and let him go back to his task.

Later that same afternoon, Sarah Grace was sorting the flatware from the dishwasher into the drawers it all belonged in when Joshua came through the kitchen. (I was in there supervising, but not really, obviously).

'Sarah Grace! We don't put the spoons in our mouth before we put them into the drawer, honey!'

'Oh...' she replied.

My children have a history with licking things. I guess I thought we were past that phase of childhood with the older two. However, it seems that I was wrong.

So...y'all wanna come over and eat with us anytime soon?

Gesundheit

Nothing brings a mother to her knees like sick children. Sick, cranky, lethargic, irritable children. And somehow, summer colds have the ability to wreak more havoc than their winter counterparts.

Yes, it seems that all four children have the sniffles, a bit of congestion, and a lot of whines. I am pumping them full of Emergen-C and reading a lot of books.

Today, before I realized that I had all four of them down with this mess, we went on one of our weekly errands. While we are on our outing, an elderly lady generally shares her home made goodies with us. However, she was short in supply today, so rather than offering the children her usual cookies or brownies, she offered them each a package of crackers. Like the ones you get with salads, just a pack of two saltines or whatever.

The kids were visibly nonplussed, but thankfully, they were kind and remembered their manners.

Granny is sick, too. In fact, she has the worst of it. She has pretty well been in bed for two days running, which never happens. Before we left this afternoon, Thomas offered to save one of his sweets to share with her, although I was unaware of this.

When Mrs. C sadly told the kids no cookies, only crackers today, Thomas thanked her very kindly. He held tight to his crackers and when we got back in the car, opened them up. He claimed to be starving, but I noticed he only ate one cracker. I told him to eat his other cracker and wait patiently for dinner.

He carefully tucked the cracker down into the packaging and told me he was saving it.

'For what?' I asked, somewhat dubious.

'For Granny. I told her I would get her a sweetie and since all I have are two crackers, I decided I would save her one so I could share with her.'

I smiled at him and told him how much I appreciated that he was keeping his word, even though I knew he was tempted to eat that last cracker.

I may have only been smiling on the outside, but people, on the inside, my heart was swelling up with joy!