Singing Sweetly

A couple of nights ago, I moved Anna out of our room. This is always my first official step to teaching my babies a bit of independence. To learn to soothe themselves back into sleep rather than me jumping at each whimper in the night.

The benefits are huge. Baby learns to deal with herself, thus learning to sleep soundly through the night better. Oh, and I get a new lease on life. Nothing like eight hours of shut eye to rejuvenate a Mommy after the few weeks of postpartum sleep deprivation.

The first night was smooth sailing. Anna went down at ten, Anna came up at seven-ish. And the angels in heaven sang a lovely chorus. Last night, Anna went down a smidge after ten, and came up at five-thirty. Not quite eight hours, but still, who's counting?

Me.

But I slept well in the mean time. Except for one brief episode where the angels that had been singing all day yesterday were given a run for their money.

I have absolutely no idea what time it was, since I have to actually sit up to see the illuminated alarm clock that sits across the room. I just know that when I did wake up, I smiled, jabbed my sweet hubby in the side and commanded him to listen.

Anna was being a little fussy. I might have gone in to check on her, rub her back, or make sure she could get her fist in her mouth had it not been for the music I was hearing. You see, I moved her into Thomas' room, just across the hall. Close enough for me to hear her if she needed me, but not so close that I heard every sweet grunt she made.

I thought since Thomas is a pretty sound sleeper, he would miss all the sweet little noises babies make in the night. He was, however, so excited at the chance to share his room with his baby sister that his ears must have been tuned in to listen for her more closely. I could see just enough to tell that he was standing next to her bassinet, gently reassuring her that she was not alone. And singing.

He was singing the lullaby that I have sung to all of my children. He was softly and lovingly crooning to Anna a song that was familiar to both of them. She settled down and was quiet again, and Thomas stood there for a couple more seconds. He whispered something to her (I can only imagine what) before he crawled back up in his bed.

I stayed in my bed and tried not to bawl, but still shed a few sweet tears as I marveled at the love that I had seen. It is a memory I know I will hold dear for years to come, my boy caring for his littlest sister.

Joshua

I met the man during my 18th year of life. It took me a very few months to go from having just met him to totally in love with him. And the rest is history.

This wonderful man had one of those mile-stone birthdays this week. He turned 30. (Did I just announce that to the blogging world at large?) He may or may not admit it, so I'll just say it for him, he was not looking forward to this birthday. I was. And I don't know why. Not just because he would be as old as me again, but just because.

Maybe I just like celebrating his life. I do kind of like him, you know. Actually, I still love him so very much. More each day, more each year.

If you had told me way back then what a wonderful husband, father, leader, and provider he would be, I would have said, 'Okay.' Maybe somewhere in the back of my head those things were important, but at the time, I don't think 'father' or 'provider' were at the forefront of my mind. 'Husband' worked it's way in there pretty quickly. And 'leader' is one that is important, but I never, ever knew it.

He is so many things to me, and I am not at all savvy enough to put it into words. What I am is unafraid to share with you how very special he is to me.

So to you, my love, my best friend, my husband: Happy 30th Birthday! May it be a wonderful year for you and for our family, and may I get to enjoy the next thirty years by your side.

I love you.

And Now You Shall Know...

...The rest of the story. (You need to read that in order to understand all the references in this post. Don't say I didn't tell you!)

While Lora was giving blood and having her pulse taken and her blood pressure checked and going on about her life story, I sat in the living room watching Ellen and Elizabeth, nursing Anna, and occasionally glancing out the windows to do a quick head count of the 'older' five kids.

Most folks mean their seven and eight year olds when referring to the 'older' kids. Or even teenagers. On this blog, it refers to the three and four year olds. But one day, they will be seven and eight...

But I can't think about that now. I'll think about that tomorrow.

Andrew was assisting with Lora and waltzing around with little Willa (read, giving me a bit of privacy in the wide open space of the living room to nurse Anna).

At one point, probably about the time Lora was receiving the news of her 'cool' blood pressure, I looked outside to see one of the twins standing on the ground and bouncing a rake on the trampoline trying to 'catch' one of the other three boys who were jumping merrily about.

This raised my blood pressure, I am sure.

But the next scene took my breath away.

The boy in question took aim with that garden rake, and time slowed down as he javelined that rake across the trampoline.

My mouth opened and my mind started spinning. Did I holler at Andrew and risk flashing him with my less than skilled art of nursing? Maybe a hole in one of the kids heads would be a good lesson for all those little boys out there. Hmmm...

You realize this all happened in a few nano-seconds. It's not like anybody could have stopped the rake in mid-flight.

Mercifully, our boys seem to be skilled in the moves of Matrix and no one was hurt.

But had that nurse been checking on me, there would have been no 'cool' to it at all.

Relating

Thomas has started going to Mother's Morning Out three days a week rather than just the two. I am reveling in his changed personality, both at school and at home. Plus, I am loving the extra time I get with just him on days when I get to leave the girls here while I go to pick him up. I enjoy hearing him tell of his mornings adventures and quiz me on the things he has learned.

"Mommy, did you know that queen starts with 'qwa, qwa, qwa'? Can you think of anything else that says 'qwa', Momma?"

These conversations are fun, and hearing how he views things helps me to understand him better.

As we were driving down the road today, he told me how glad he was that I was his Mommy. (And everybody says 'Awwwwwwww!') I replied that I was sure glad that God had given me him, and that he was my favoritist little boy ever.

'Your great, Momma, just great. I think you are my great-great, ummm, great-greatmother. I mean, my great-great-great-great grandmother.'

Bwahahahahaha!

'Buddy, I am just your Mommy. Not your grandmommy.'

'But your so great, Mommy. Can't you be my great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother?'

'No, Buddy. I just get to be your Mommy. But I am glad you think I am so great!'

'Are you sure, Mommy?'

'Pretty sure, Thomas.'

'Awwwwww, okay.'

Tough thing, figuring out those family ties.

Of course, the reason I post this is because it made my head and heart swell. And I need to gloat over document anything that boosts my ego. I know the water ahead could be rough, and I will need to reflect upon the Sweet & Innocent years!

All About Anna

She really does exist. I just don't get many pictures of her. She is usually in my arms, making it hard to point the camera at her sweet little face. But here you have it, a montage of Anna enjoying her second month of life.

Anna and cousin Layla Jade.
Working hard on holding her head up!

So tough to be so loved!
Bathing cuties!
Cuddle time with Sarah Grace.

I *Heart* Weekends

I especially *heart* weekends with my sweetheart, and we had the wonderful opportunity to make Valentine's Day weekend all about us!

My parents had made plans to leave town for the weekend, and offered us their house as a get-away. What with the King Size bed, hot tub, hammock, and delightful outside cats, the only difference between being there and being at a bed and breakfast was that we had to deal with our own breakfast!

Friday night we learned how to broil a steak. I was very thankful for Joshua and his watchful eye. We plopped a steak as big as my arm on that pan and stashed it in the oven on broil. I then proceeded to leave the room. I figured we had a good twenty or thirty minutes. I am not sure I had gotten to the next room when Joshua announced that the meat thermometer claimed our steak was done! Seriously, it was not even ten minutes. And that was a b-i-g steak! And good, too!

The rest of the weekend was a little less dramatic. If you call that dramatic. Which I don't normally, given that my life revolves much around having four little children. But isn't it lovely to say that the broiling of a steak was the most drama of the whole weekend?

No, the rest of the weekend was spent playing darts, lounging in the hot tub, eating out, and riding all over the town that I grew up in, making note of all the changes that have taken place over the years.

What? Our kids? Well, they were spending the weekend with various grandparents, except for Anna. She kind of needs me, since I am her food supply and all. =)

Thanks Daddy & Mom, for a relaxing weekend. We had a lovely time and hope your weekend was a good as ours was!

Catch Me A Bottle Full

You know, there are so many things about toddlers and pre-schoolers that I love. Love, I tell you. The lack of social pressures, for instance. They will say and do anything, without regard for what people think. They seek attention in anyway they can get it, and sometimes their just plum cute doing it.

Well, most of the time. Occasionally, I wanna pinch me a little head off.

But I would put it back. After my ears quit ringing.

This evening, my children are giving me a reprieve from the whining and fussing and complaining and fighting. I am lovin' it. Because in the place of all that grumpiness is laughter and squealing. The good kind of squealing. It's still loud, but infinitely easier to deal with than the fighting squeals.

The best part is how free they are to giggle and guffaw in all their merry riotessness. The kind of laughter that has not yet been cultivated to what is 'socially acceptable'. Just loud, raucous, belly laughs as they streak from room to room making these wild and wonderful noises.

Oh, I am soooo lovin' this.

I Have No Bright Ideas For A Title For This Post

But you are welcome to leave your ideas in the comment section...I might even change the title to my favorite title entry.

Yesterday started out just like any other Sunday. Early and with the usual chaos that is getting our family ready to be out the door by 8 AM.

Yesterday ended just like any other Sunday. With us coming home after bedtime and making a bedtime snack for the kids while they scurried into their pajamas.

It was the smack-dab middle of the day that was off the charts unbelievable.

After church service was over and we had socialized for a bit, we made our way out the door and to the van. Joshua and I had an abbreviated version of the usual Sunday 'whaddya-want-for-lunch-i dunno-whaddya-want' conversation before we stumbled across the brilliant idea of Chicken & French Fries (a meal the entire family can generally agree upon) to go. We ran by one of our favorite chicken joints and grabbed a rather large bag of said food then skipped off to a park to eat.

Our chiropractor has been singing the praises of this small, out of the way park to me for nearly two years. Yesterday, I saw a sign that pointed us to it. By fluke. But when we arrived at the baseball complex with it's two small play areas, we were thrilled to find that it was essentially empty. We booted everyone from the van and guided them towards a picnic table to start our lunch.

It is always a bit of a battle to get the kids to focus on their food when we have these outings. They are so overjoyed at the thought of playing on the play equipment that getting them to choke down enough food to constitute a meal takes a lot of words. We generally set a time limit for the entire trip and tell them they can take as long as they want to eat their lunch, but when the time is up, we are packing it in and leaving, regardless of how much play time they did or didn't get.

Yesterday, the kids were so incredibly wired that we needed them to go play, so we set a time limit on eating time. Then we would boot them to the play area. We had maybe three minutes left on the timer and it was pretty apparent that the kids were not going to eat much more anyway when it happened.

Joshua and I had both pretty well resigned ourselves not to try to coerce anymore food into our sweet offspring and just roll with it when we heard the rustling and the chirping. The trees around us became the rest stop for a rather large flock of birds. And the ground under those trees became the potty for these travel weary birds. Freeman family, picnic table, and plates of food all included.

Splats started on the plates and we quickly abandoned all pretense of eating. As I scooped up the baby and darted our from under the tree canopy, I yelped for the kids to move it. Joshua grabbed up the drink containers and the baby carrier and toted them all off to the safety of wide open spaces.

The damage had been done, though. The back of Sarah Grace's dress was splotched with bird mess, Joshua had taken a hit to the shoulder, and my hair had a new kind of styling gel in it. Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh!

While the kids played for a bit, Joshua and I joked about our 'crappy lunch' and made plans as to how to handle the rest of the afternoon. And his nasty shirt. I had a set of spare clothes in the van for Sarah Grace, but it had never occurred to me to pack extra clothes for Joshua and I.

Or a sink and shampoo for my hair. Fortunately, a paper towel and a wet wipe restored enough normalcy to fake it for the rest of the day.

After the kids had played for a while, we loaded back up and went back to the church, where we laid all the kids down for naps. I stayed long enough to feed Anna then darted off for some emergency shopping.

Do I admit that it took me two full hours of shopping and several different stores to find a shirt for my husband? Well, three of them actually, and lots of window shopping for me....

Humantistic

About five o'clock in the evening, things tend to cut loose around here. Feelings are worn out on sleeves, tempers flare, blood sugar starts plummeting, mouths get sassy...and that's just me! We call it The Witching Hour.

The ending of the day is almost always a traumatic time. Once I get dinner on the table and everyone sits down, we find peace in the routine of eating, playing with Daddy, family devotional time, and then bed time. But that time between five and when everyone is finally at the table? Sheer mental insanity.

The easy thing to do would be to feed the kids a little earlier. And some nights we do, allowing Daddy more play time and then a nice dinner for two after bedtime. Eating together as a family is very important to us, though, so more often than not, I just repeat the mantra 'Do not have a fit, do not have a fit, do not have a fit, you are the Mommy!!'

Besides the simple togetherness that sitting down as a family for a meal provides us with, we are also frequently the beneficiaries of our childrens' wisdom and imaginations. Last night, however, took the cake.

I'm really at a loss as to how we got onto the subject of snakes and worms at dinner (lets face it, with this many kids, topics are going to be varied), but there we were. About the time I was ready to call a halt to the silly proceedings and remind my little people to concentrate more on their plates, Thomas started telling us about The Silver Worm.

"The Silver Worm was shiny", declared Thomas.
"Shiny? Like our forks?" asked Daddy.
"Yes! And he was crawling beside us while we drove our cars. He was fast!"
"He was crawling on the road?" asked Daddy.
"No. He was crawling in the grass", said Thomas, very matter-of-factly.
"Oh. I see."
"And then he crawled over to Mommy and she opened the door and let him in the van! He was fast!"
"Oh, she did?" queried Joshua, eying me across the table.
"Yes! And he was just humantisitc!" exclaimed our little story weaver.

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WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG
FOR A DEFINITION
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humantistic - hue-MAN-tis-tik -verb - a combined effort of humongous and fantastic

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BACK TO YOUR REGULARLY
SCHEDULED BLOG POST
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At this point, the adults at the table dissolved into hysterical giggles. Some of those adults had the respect to try to shield the kids from their laughter, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings. Not me. I, their dear, sweet mother, guffawed. Yes, indeedy, sir. Right there at the table. In my son's face.

When asked about how big The Silver Worm was, Thomas thought for a second, looked over at Sarah Grace, then held his hands about two-ish feet apart. "About that big," he told us, as his hand moved closer together, finally stopping about 8 inches apart.

Again, laughter from the over five-foot population. And the seriousness of the realization that this kid would never make a good fisherman! Fishing tales get longer, but Silver Worm tales get smaller, I guess.

This obvious laughter only spurred him on. The tale got wilder and funnier until it finally dwindled and the young man and his imagination had to refuel on dinner.

It is fleeting moments such as this that I am so glad that we push through The Witching Hour and insist on family dinner. Priceless are these times of togetherness, and I intend to keep lapping them up.