One brain cell at a time.

Why is it that when a child leaves the step stool in front of the bathroom sink (and this is all together common around here) I will just stand on the stool to wash my hands or brush my teeth? As I was brushing my teeth, elevated another foot in the air, bending in half to spit, it suddenly dawned on me what I was doing. I’m pretty sure it would be easier to move the stool than to bend over like I’m 6.5 feet tall, but there I stood, folded in half to make it work. Hmm.

Baby’s got a new hat. Time to go to town.

See that button over on the side for 4Sisters4Freedom? That would be my husband’s nieces, four girls crocheting for a cause. They are selling their handiwork to raise money to fight slavery. I ordered this hat for Charlotte. The bow is one we made – I love that I can switch this out to match her outfits. Or her pj’s. Because it’s that kind of day.

See? Baby likes her hat. Or maybe she just likes her sisters, since this is the face I got before recruiting girls to be silly to get her reaction:

Either way works, I suppose. Cute hat, Charlie-girl.

Happy Valentine’s Day to you.

Tomorrow is our co-op Valentine’s day party for all of the kids. The girls did cards, but that seemed silly for Sterling and Ruby’s class. I can only assume there aren’t very many child prodigies in there that can read, and since Sterling can spell but not write his name and Ruby thinks her name is spelled “Syt”, I decided not to go there. So I’m making paper boxes to put candy and a trinket in for each of their classmates. Oh yes, this is so much better than filling in the “from” and “to” sections in a dozen Valentine’s. While I’ve certainly amazed Sterling with my abilities to turn a couple pieces of cardstock into a lidded box, (thank you, Google search) I’m starting to think I didn’t make such a wise choice in all of this. I didn’t have anything better to do with my afternoon, I suppose.

Sometimes, you just have to improvise.

Charlotte’s been drinking a bit of goat’s milk lately. Momma’s body doesn’t do so good at supporting three, unfortunately. So when Charlotte woke up as I was making bread the other day, she nursed while I measured out salt and flour. But when she was finished – and yet not – out came the bottle. Except forming loaves with a baby and bottle in hand isn’t something I’m quite coordinated enough for. All the kids were outside sledding, and I had to do a bit of improvising…

…turns out, hotpads work well enough for a momentary prop – just until I could get the dough off my hands.

Oh, baby baby.

Before fall, our family will increase in size once again. The kids, at that point, will be 8, 6, 4, almost or actually 3, and 11 months. And a newborn. It was starting to get a little dull around here, I suppose. Bring it on. We’re going to have a set of Irish twins around this little house.

Sweet 6 year old.

Eden Rayne turned six this past Tuesday. For her birthday, it snowed. And snowed. And snowed – like Missouri rarely sees. So much, Sterling asked why it was still snowing, since the grass was covered. He was amused to find out that the snow does not know when the grass is covered, it just comes down until it’s done.

Eden, though, enjoyed a day off of school and went sledding instead. Of course, she didn’t get a sled for her birthday. She got rollerblades.

Rollerblades that she wore in the house for most of the day. The foot of snow on the concrete patio prevented her from really trying them out. But after a brief reminder that since her birthday and Christmas both fall in the winter months, and if she wanted such a thing now was the time, she agreed readily. And now, the rollerblades sit in her bedroom, waiting for the snow to melt so she can really try them out. Happy birthday, Eden. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them – later.

Happy birthday, baby girl and other short stories.

So… Blaine’s home. I mentioned that. I have a cold. Mentioned that too. It has me pretty wiped out. Coughing all night isn’t real restful in and of itself, and it wakes up a baby. A lot. And if anyone knows why I talk in my sleep when I have a cold, I’d love to know. There has to be some scientific explanation. Either that or I’m going crazy – which if I weren’t, the talking in my sleep and waking myself up because of it will drive me to crazy. Turns out Blaine, also suffering from same said cold, talks in his sleep too. That’s somewhat normal for him… but not this much. What does that mean?

Sterling brought me a one-dollar bill yesterday and asked me if that was Uncle Troy on it. Umm, no. That’s George Washington. Close, but not quite.

Liberty was doing a report on Harriet Tubman and Eden asked if Harriet Tubman was alive when Moses was alive. I told her no, Moses was a long, long time ago, but Harriet Tubman wasn’t that long ago – but still a long time, I suppose. Eden replied, “Oh, so in the 1980’s?” I informed her I was born in the 1980’s… and her mind went, “Wow! She’s old! Almost as old as Harriet Tubman!” Just for the record, Harriet Tubman was born in the 1820’s.

Eden turned six yesterday. It was a blizzard like Springfield rarely sees (and South Dakota calls just another day) and public school was cancelled. I briefly thought we’d do school anyhow, but quickly came to my senses. I took a nap instead.