There are times when raising children that one feels that the child will grow up to be the most selfish, inconsiderate, obnoxious person out there. It’s a challenge to tear the child away from selfish desires and teach them to think of others. It’s not a natural thing. I am dismayed to see my child go over to another and whack him for no apparent reason- or, I should say, no apparent reason that I can see. Then one refuses to let another have a toy even though she isn’t playing with it at that time. These things can trouble a mother’s heart.
When we were visiting The Grandparent’s this summer the kids partook of many treats. The freezer at Grandma’s is full of really good stuff- ice cream treats and Popsicles. She also bakes very well. After lunch the kids got to have Popsicles. I dolled them out, trying to avoid the arguments about what color every one wanted, and gave The Boy broken ones two days in a row. On the third day, I pulled out one that was broken but knowing that he had endured two flawed ones already, I handed it to his Baby Sister and gave him the whole one. Baby Sister stared at the broken pop in her hand and started the high pitched whine.
“I don’t want it! It’s broken!”
It’ll still taste the same.
“But it’s broken!” wailing in a higher pitch.
Your Brother has had two broken ones, he gets a whole one this time. You can still eat it.
Squirms in her seat and starts to cry. I am contemplating what action to take when I look at The Boy.
“She can have mine.”
Baby Sis calms down and makes the trade. After prodding she says “thank you”.
He smiles.
One definitely needs more work but the other shines a glimmer of hope into his Mother’s heart.
A strap on The Boy’s sandal broke awhile back but it still stayed on his foot.
Last Friday, right after we arrived at the park to play, the other part broke. It no longer stayed on his foot. He stayed on the play structure or the grass most of the time to protect his bare feet.
We headed straight to that “Evil Out House” place that is basically the only place to shop here. I knew that trying to find sandals at this time of year was a nearly impossible task. The shoe people and the stores seem to think we need to buy sandals in February and snow boots in August. I have found, from past experience, that if you don’t shop for sandals before the end of April, the selection will be pitiful. Then hope that the child’s foot doesn’t go on a growing spree or they don’t break. So there we were, in need, scurrying (The Boy was shuffling; trying to keep the sandal attached to his foot) to the shoe aisle with very low hopes. The sandals, the few that were still languishing there, were relegated to a small, far section of the shoe area. There were a few scattered sandals for toddlers on the shelf.
And one pair of size four.
On sale.
I think it was a God thing.
****Updated with correct numbers****
How high can we go? It’s anyone’s guess.
Just what are we counting, tallying on a daily basis?
Mosquito bites on The Boy.
I should clarify that- “we” aren’t keeping count by choice but there is one of us who is very interested in the numbers and keeps us minutely informed.
Do you see eyes rolling?
To be honest, The Boy is effected by bites more than the average Joe. The bites tend to swell up on him and annoy him more than most. It leaves one to wonder about the constant…. complaining. Is it really bothering him or is he not dealing well with minor discomfort? Since he reacts so to them it’s hard to know. So we medicate him- mostly to relieve our own suffering.
I think we are up to 22, just in case you were wondering.
(Don’t worry, West Nile has not been reported in our county…. yet. Whoops! I was informed I was wrong- a bird was found to have it in 2006 but none has been reported since then.)
We tend to weigh and measure the kids a lot. Why? They keep growing! And growing, and growing….
At the age of two, most children slow down in the growth department- not our crew. So I like to keep track of it all- I’m like that. Give me buttons to push and charts to keep and I am a happy camper.
So… because I know you all are dying of curiosity, here are the most current stats:
The Boy- 56 1/4″ (4′ 8 1/4″), 71 pounds. This puts him in over the 97th percentile in height. He is in the 90th percentile in weight.
Pixie- 46″ (3′ 10″) and 43 pounds. She is on the 90th percentile line for height and 50th for weight. And you wonder why I have troubles finding clothes that fit her!
Sunshine- 43″ (3′ 7″) and 41.4 pounds. She is in the 95th in height and 87th for weight.
I went back to the height predictor at WebMD to see if it said anything new. Since Sunshine was now 4, I wondered if it would change anything.
It assures me that The Boy will still be 6′5″.
Pixie will still be the shrimp of the children at 5′9″.
Sunshine is heading for 5′10″.
I will be the leaning post for all of them, I’m afraid.
I heard the screams coming from outside as I stood at the kitchen sink. Now if you had been watching me, you would have thought that I was a terrible, unfeeling, uncaring Mother because I just stood there. But, you see, I know that screams like that can be associated with slight bruises, light scrapes and just about any misfortune so I wasn’t too concerned.
Then Pixie opened the door and said “The Boy fell out of the tree!”
Oh great! He’s gone and broke his arm this time!
I went to the door where he met me, holding his arm. I gave him a big hug all the time thinking- he’s broken it, I just know.
He sobbed out his woeful story. He fell….
and scraped his arm on the way down.
Not broken but badly scraped. It did look like it would hurt.
But don’t you worry none, he’s a professional.
“Don’t worry Mom! I’m a professional!”
Landing! No broken legs. He’s a professional, ya know.
Sunday was a day of new beginnings. It was The Boy’s 8th birthday. I had fond memories of birthing him- yes, they were “fond”- after eight years, I can say that. And we were having our first church service in our new building!
The Boy wasn’t feeling well. Somehow he picked up the cough/cold bug and didn’t even want to eat his waffles that morning! Wow. He was disappointed as he had been looking forward to running around the new building with his walkie-talkies trying to get lost- or not. He was perking up by the time it was to leave but he wasn’t ready and I wasn’t sure about spreading germs so he and The Col. stayed home and had some quality “boy” time.
The Girls and I went off to the big event. I stayed in the nursery (someone had to do it) but the service sounded like it went well. Then a well attended pot luck and friends to chat with.
I had my trusty camera with me. A couple of people said “I forgot my camera but I knew you’d have yours so I didn’t go back for it.” Hmmm. Am I getting predictable? I was tired and the basement was dark so I wimped out. Yes, people, I wimped out and set it on complete automatic. I made my Digital SLR a point and shoot. Sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do. And they turned out well, overall. I only managed to take 150. Thank goodness for digital! Since I am awful about doing anything with them once I take them I will copy them to a CD and give them to a gentleman at church who does wonderful slide shows. It’ll be fun to see what he puts together. I think I tended to take pictures of people I know, so there were reoccurring faces but I hope I took enough shots of others too.
So, I’ll leave with impressions that will hopfully help answer the question of “why a new to us building?” Here is the old building- taken during practice for our Easter production- not the best artistically but gives a good feel of the sanctuary. Remember, you can click on the thumbnails to make them larger.
New.
Totally different feel, isn’t it?
Disclaimer: These photos were taken on the same day as Ditch Day. She is wearing different clothes today! Honest.
Taking turns even!
It’s hard work!
Brother’s turn!
Unfortunately, their combined weight made it too hard to pedal in the gravel. They didn’t get very far. I guess I can’t use the song “He’s Not Heavy, He’s My Brother” and I don’t think there has been a song written titled: “She’s Too heavy, She’s My Sister”. Which is a good thing.
Last week the weather was lovely, for a few days at least. So we walked/rode down to the mailbox and beyond.
Remember last fall and Pixie’s bicycling difficulties? Well, she still uses her feet to stop instead of the bike brakes but that is, perhaps, a good thing as she jams the brakes on so hard that she skids all over the place. She can now get going on her own and can even turn around. All without the continuous whine that used to proceed from her mouth. Here she is actually standing up and pedaling.
The Boy just took off, as usual, zipping around. Here he takes a side trip down into the ditch- and back out again.
Sorry, they look like ants! I was being left in the dust!
Then there is my baby- the one who marches to her own drum.
What interesting characters they all are. Wonder where they get it.
Note: I made these pictures “smaller” in hopes they wouldn’t take too long to load for any dial up readers out there. (Hi KN!) Let me know if they take too long to load still and if they look OK. Thanks!
