Someone turns 30 tomorrow. She knows who she is. Half the country away, this is all the party I can throw for her. I’m trying.
I’m attempting slight discretion here, in case she doesn’t want the world to know… but HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you, dear ____. :)
The conversations in the back of my van went something like this:
“Why do boy Indians have long hair?”
“Because they don’t have time to cut it.”
“Charlotte, you’re a big baby. You don’t need toys in the van. You can play with them in Sunday school. Pierce is a little baby. He needs them now. Give that book back to Pierce.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No!”
“Yes! Charlie, you are a big baby! You don’t need that! Pierce does!”
“No!”
This went on for many more minutes. My sanity when we got to church was questionably shaky.
Today is being held together by orajel and birthday cake. We’ll make it.
Pierce wanted to be in school this morning. Fourth grade math and learning to read provided him an adequate challenge, to be sure.
Child genius? Maybe not. Something about eating the erasers doesn’t scream ready for school.
We have Belle the Bull Mastiff visiting for a few days. Today’s conversation with Charlotte, who’s back to not being so sure she likes Belle, went like this:
“Tractor! Tractor say ‘woof woof’!”
“Um, no honey. Dogs say ‘woof woof’. Brady says ‘woof woof’.” Remembering Belle, hanging out on the front porch while Liberty sat out there doing her math, I said, “Belle says ‘woof woof’!”
“Oh.”
Engage child in conversation to keep her on the potty happily…. “Where is Belle?”
“Outside. Eat Liberty’s toes. Belle soooooooooooo naughty. Belle eat my toes!”
Poor Belle. Since I was present for the duration of Charlotte’s uncertain encounter with Belle, I’m quite certain no biting, eating, or even licking occurred. She’s been unjustly accused. Liberty too, remains in possession of all of her extremities.
Tell that to Charlie.
In a week where the funniest thing that happened (though not funny at the time) was Pierce reverting to his old ways of losing half his feeding at an inopportune moment, resulting in curdled I-don’t-want-to-know-what landing squarely on my face, things have been pretty tense around here.
Right about now, that statement about the mother setting the temperature of the home nags at my brain.
Not enough sleep, a baby boy who has embraced his freedom and ability to crawl, not on his belly, but up on all fours – resulting in a torn-apart house that’s about to do me in, laundry coming out of my ears, and too much to do and not enough time is all weighing down.
And yet. Yesterday, when a call came in that changed the course of my afternoon, I was reminded, in no small detail, that my life is pretty wonderful. That, despite the messy house and struggles to get three children schooled each day, what I do, this privilege I have to stay home and raise these six healthy children God’s given me… I’m thankful.
The spit up on my face I could have done without. I thought we were past that. But everything else… I’ll take it, smile, pick up the toys once more, and be glad that I have this opportunity. Time goes so fast, it’ll be gone before I know it.
Today we went to a PE class put on for homeschoolers by a local rec center. It was a first for us, but I must have slept well last night, because when I got up and the reminder email was in my inbox, we got ready and went.
Another first that I’m still rather in shock about:
We’d planned to go to the zoo today. With the PE class plans, we decided to pack a lunch and head to the zoo after. Driving away from the class, I heard words I’d never heard before.
“I’m too tired.”
Writing it down lest I forget this moment, Eden Rayne was too tired to do something at 10:45 am. She actually asked if we could go home instead.
I’m thinking PE is good for Eden.
