Easter Ants

I was too tired to do a big Easter this year.  I didn't do Passover or Easter egg hunts or coloring eggs or even Easter dinner (we had Easter tacos).  Trent, remembering the big Easter celebrations of his childhood, put together some Easter baskets for the kids with random stuff he had on hand.  I am always amused to see what random stuff he can pull out of his sneaky hiding places!  I did get Angel a new dress, because they were at the store and she is so cute.  After church and before we started getting dirty making Easter tacos (I think that should be a new tradition... wait, Sunday tacos IS our tradition), I pulled one of the boys outside to take a quick snapshot of our Easter dresses.

We posed for about 20 seconds before we realized we were standing in an ant nest and they were crawling all over our legs.

Yup, that's how holidays seem to go down around here!

Today I...

Today has been a busy day.  I gave Chris some pointer on the biscuits he was making for breakfast.  I won't say I helped him, because he did a great job solo!  I led a great family discussion about how to handle kitchen cleanup when Ben and Chris move back home for the summer.  And then I helped clean up the kitchen.  I don't mind cleaning up when I didn't have to make the food - Trent and Chris made a fabulous team for biscuits and gravy this morning.

I helped Angel sort through the dresses in her closet.  She has a dozen of them, but only wears two.  We pared down a few, and she remembered some that she just loves - maybe they will see more wear time.  Or we can pare down a few more.

I assembled a shelf, with the help of four additional hands, and figured out where to hang it.  Trent is better at the power tools, so I let him hang it on the wall.  I also located a spider in the bathroom sink and allowed him to kill it for me.  See how nice I am?

I supported a neighbor's moving sale and toured their house.  I'm now fighting a touch of envy because it is bigger and five million times better laid out than the one I live in.  I wish I could buy it.

I sent birthday wishes to a brother-in-law.  I texted a list of shopping items my dad has requested to my sister-in-law.

I held a six-year-old on my lap and consoled him when everyone else got to play with a toy but he didn't.  I later convinced the other one that he would not die if he ate the gravy.  A bribe of chocolate milk didn't hurt there.

I taught David about pedal markings in piano music and how to properly use the sustain pedal.  He is teaching himself to play "Chariots of Fire."  I admire his dogged determination to do things he sets his mind to.

I had a discussion with Eddie about "fair," and complemented him for getting right on his chores.  He is the best one we have to get started without being asked.

I can't take a nap yet, because I still need to have an executive council meeting with my fabulous husband and send an email to my brothers.  And lunch - it's about that time.

I wonder what the afternoon will bring?

Happy Halloween!

Happy end-of-October to you!

We did Despicable Me 2 for costumes this year, and ended up with Gru, Lucy, Dr. Nefario, Agnes who would way rather wear a dress than short-alls and her fluffy unicorn, two minions, and a nerd-shadow.  A wha...?  Well, we have a black morph suit and he fit into it this year.  He just had to use it.  Welcome to junior high.  And yes, I had a lipstick taser in my pocket.

Last Firsts

My babies just started kindergarten.  Wait... what??

'Twasn't very long ago that I was holding them both in my arms, smelling the scent of their little heads...  wait, I did do that a few days ago.  They are big and heavy and wiggly and I could only hold them both for a moment, and I think I threw out my back.  But it was wonderful to hold them both, and they laughed and then demanded to be let down.

I bought them new shoes for school.  One pair is red and the other is blue, because those are their favorite colors.  This is the first time I have bought different-looking shoes.  Usually I just buy two pair of the same kind of shoe, and then wish I had bought three pair so we would never have to worry about finding that one shoe that is lost.  Except that we would just have more shoes to lose, I'm sure.  These things never turn out the way you want them to!

As we got their feet measured and started looking at the shoes, I realized that their shoes were much longer now than they are tall.  Baby shoes are taller than wide, and the ratio goes quickly to an as-tall-as-wide blob that looks like cartoon feet.  I love those little round shoes.  And now they look like big boys - with laces!  They learned how to tie their shoes in a day.  In a day!  They are big boys now, with real shoes and backpacks.

We walked them to school, Trent and I, and slowly made our way home.  The house felt empty and quiet.  I've seen this milepost coming for two decades - the day when all my children were in school.  It happened briefly when Eddie started kindergarten, and Angel was born a few weeks later.  But now it's the real deal.

I had a good cry about missing my babies - all of them.  There will be no more new kindergarten children clinging to my hand and nervous to go into the giant, busy school.  Oh how I've loved being a mama for my babies!

We're starting a new chapter here, and I have no doubt that it will be filled with as much love as the last chapters.  Maybe even more.

Family Reunion Shirts, Part II

And here is the result of our family reunion shirt-making that we started back here. 

These are the grandchildren in this family, minus Alec and Ben of course, and one other  granddaughter who just graduated from college.  They are all numbered in age order, and it's fun to see them all lined up like this!

This is the family of Jay, my first husband.  There were five children in his family, and he was the second.

I like how the colors show when Jays' siblings started their families.  The older sister's family is the bright green.  I'm sorry that they were not fond of their color, but we will give them a different one if we ever do this again.  She was married first, and had two children before Jay and I were married.  Alec and Ben are numbers five and six, and other missing grandchild is number three, so there that bright green chunk at the beginning is a little misleading.  My kids pull the #5, 6, 8, 12, 14, 18, 21, and 22 spots.  Our family has the aqua shirts, and the next brother's family is in the darker green shirts.  Child #4 brought a husband and a daughter in the family at the same time, and you'll just have to imagine that cute girl in baby blue at the #3 spot.  The baby of the family is sporting dark blue, and you can see his cute little redheads at the end of the line.

What a bunch of wonderful people we have!  Thanks, Jeanne and Dallas, for the love and support you've given all of us over the years.  Look what you started!

Family Reunion Shirts

We have a family reunion coming up for Jay's side of the family.  It's a little bit unexpected, but since the first grandchild is getting married, everyone is coming in town.  We don't get together very often, so as long as we are all in the same state, we might as well get together.  We'd love to party more,  but we are spread out across thousands of miles and several states.  That makes it hard.  In fact, I figured we will be logging over 27,000 combined miles during this trip!

 I'm the local-est one, because I'm only 40 miles away from the bride's home.  That means I'm the de facto party planner and event coordinator.  It's been a bit of a challenge to put all the details together on such short notice, but we've done it.  I'm so grateful that I have such a fun husband to work with - he's made things so much easier for me.

 

I just finished the reunion t shirts today.  We didn't have time to get them professionally printed, so we made up an easy iron-on instead.  Each family has a different color, and each grandchild sports their own number.  It was fun to do the legwork to order all 23 grandkids and see which ones are older.  We don't think of grandkid pecking order very often since we don't see each other much, but the shirts turned out well!

 (edit)  Here are all the kids (minus three who were out of state) in their shirts.  So fun!

Decent Women's Costume Month

I was looking at the calender today, and I amazed that it is halfway through April!  The twins love to look at the "ky-lander" and have me tell them how long it is until their birthdays.  So we were counting off how many months until their birthday, until school is out, until school starts again in the fall (and they will be in kindergarten!  Aagh!), until Halloween...

We stopped at Halloween because it is their absolute favorite day of the year, until Christmas rolls around, that is.  They are already dreaming up what they want to be for Halloween.  Current favorite: minions!  I love to sew and create - always have - so making Halloween costumes is something I put a lot of thought and time into.  I like dressing up too, but let's be real.  With a family of ten, making costumes for myself is way, waaaayyy down on the priority list. 

And forget about buying anything ready-made from the store.  I'm not about to show that much skin in public - especially chilly Halloween night!  I don't know why it seems that costume manufacturers think that all women want to show off their legs and cleavage on Halloween.  Every costume comes from the same pattern: bare shoulders, deep necklines, and short skirts.  No creativity.  And no coverage, if you prefer to be modest.  I do.

I've decided to declare the rest of April to be Decent Women's Costuming Month.  There isn't much going on for the next few weeks (no major holidays, not yet the frantic end-of-school rush, no family vacations to plan), so I have time.  

I picked up these fun historical patterns a few weeks ago when there was a good sale at the fabric store, and I might be able to pick up some fabric tomorrow.

If I sew a little bit here and there, instead of doing a whole bunch all at once, I won't get sick of the project.  Also, I won't end up with back problems from hunching over the sewing machine, and my children will get fed.  Bonus that my house won't turn into a disaster.

Now I just need to decide which pattern I want to make!  I'm leaning toward the Regency dress, but that would mean I have to watch Pride and Prejudice again for inspiration.  Or If I choose the 1950s dress, I'd have to check out some Audrey Hepburn or Marilyn Monroe.  

Bring on the popcorn!

Polka Dot Dresses

We've been getting American Girl doll catalogs in the mail.  Angel has fallen in love with the dolls and their colorful clothes.  She is especially smitten with the idea of having a matching dress with her dolly.  She had been asking for a doll with blond hair for a while, so when I saw this one at Costco for a-whole-bunch-cheaper, I snapped it up.  For Christmas, I made them matching nightgowns.  The Angel was thrilled.

Recently, I was innocently walking through a store (and it wasn't even a fabric store!) when this pink polka dot material called to me.  Nay, it jumped off the rack and grabbed me.  It screamed, "Take me home to your daughter and make matching dresses for her and her dolly!"  What could I do?  I bought some yardage, brought it home, and let it sit in the bag for a few weeks.  Take that, screaming fabric.

One night, I got industrious and cut out the pieces for both the big dress and the little one.  Then I let them sit for another week or two.  Gah.  Hate half-finished projects!

So I finally sewed them up, and they were much easier than I thought they would be.  And of course, she is delighted!  It makes me happy to see my girl happy.  Now to see if any of my boys want a pink polka dot dress.

The Curse of the Bacon

We had a date.  We were going to a jazz concert at the local university.  "He would be home about dinnertime, and then his folks would come by and pick us up.  A good old double-date, in the back seat of momma's car.

Earlier in the day, I had been at MegaMall, cruising through the aisles with the twins.  Somewhere between new socks and and cat food, we came across the sale rack.  I'm a sucker.  I stopped for a brief moment (because I never have more than a brief moment when the twins are around) to peruse.  For something for me.  There usually isn't anything there that anyone would want.  If it was wanted, someone would have already purchased it, taken it home, and loved it, right?  But I found it.  A new shirt.  My mother would have called it a blouse.  It was woven, but as soft as your favorite old t shirt.  Fitted and flowy in all the right places, and the perfect shade of green.  I don't buy green very often because most of the time it is either a yellowy-neon green, or too olive.  I can't wear either of those trendy colors.  But this time it was exactly the same hue as my eyes, and I was delighted.  And on sale!

I snatched up the shirt and hurried through the checkout.  The faster we can ring up our purchases, the fewer checkout candy temptations we have, you know.

I put it on as soon as I got home and checked the fit in the mirror.  Yes, I know, you are supposed to check the fit before you buy it.  That's why they have dressing rooms in the stores.  But the twins and me and dressing rooms don't mix.  It would be bad.  But the fit was perfect.  I loved it!  I pulled off the stickers and cut of the tags, and rushed in to make dinner so I wouldn't be late for our date.

While the veggies were defrosting I dashed into the bathroom to put on some makeup.  While the sauce was simmering I did my hair (but not over the sauce.  That would leave long hairs in the sauce.  Ew.).  I slid a dab of bacon grease in the frying pan to saute the onions.

And then it happened.  The bacon grease popped and spit globules of hot grease all over my new shirt.  My new shirt!  More than 20 dark spotches appeared across the front of the perfectly green fabric.  I settled the stove and rushed to the bedroom to take it off.  I looked up the best internet remedies for removing grease from fabric.

I spread the whimpering shirt on the clean counter (maybe it was me whimpering) and coated it with corn starch, to soak up the grease.  I carefully blotted with paper towels and shook off the extra.  I rinsed the shirt and smeared shampoo all over the front.  I wrapped the now-entirely-wet shirt in a plastic bag to soak while we went to the concert.

In the morning, I continued my ministrations.  Presoak, wash in the hottest water possible, line dry.  After the process, I anxiously unfolded the shirt - and the dots are still there.  Mocking me.  Bad words.

I should have bought two shirts at the sale.

And I should wear my apron while cooking.

Me, the Washing Machine

I have some clothes that were not getting clean, so I decided to hand-wash them.  I've been bad-mouthing my mother's washing machine and giving it bad looks.  Maybe good, old-fashioned elbow grease could do the trick where modern water-saving appliances were failing.  In lieu of a washboard, I just swished the clothes, and rubbed the stubborn spots between my knuckles.  I was right.  I was able to scrub them clean.

I also scrubbed all the skin off my knuckles.  My fingers have been hurting like I had bad burns on them for about a week.

Today, I'm grateful for the washing machine.  And maybe I ought to see about finding a washboard or a river.

I Found My Shoes!

When you move, you pack a box of hairbrushes and makeup and bathroom things (which was missing for the first few weeks we were here.  No hairbrush.  Fortunately, I did have a toothbrush.).  Then you pack a box of bedding. Then you pack a box of clothes. Then, as you look around at the nearly-empty room, you open another box and put in it... Your alarm clock, three tubes of travel sized toothpaste, the stack of men's adventure magazines which you never ordered but started showing up in your mailbox and you haven't gotten around to canceling yet, seven books you've been wanting to read, a decorative lantern that must be an antique because it is so rusty, two pumpkin scented candles your husband loves even though you never light candles, all the riff raff that was on your nightstand, and a pile of other random things that didn't go in any other boxes because it doesn't have a home. And then you get to your new place... and it still doesn't have a home so you just let it kick around. And I've been drowning in all the flotsam and jetsam.  

At the same time, there are a few things I would very much like to have, but remain mysteriously missing.  I went back to the storage garage to find things, but only managed to come out with a renewed disgust at how much stuff we have accumulated.  

And so I still only had two pair of shoes.  Reading letters from my missionary sons in poorer places, I worry that having two pair of shoes is actually a luxury instead of a hardship.  Most American women I know would have high-tailed it over to the shoe store long ago.  But my frugal side wants to wait and keep looking before I buy something new.  Three weeks, four weeks... my everyday shoes are all torn up inside.  Five weeks and my nicer silver flats are starting show signs of having been purchased at El-Cheapo-Mart (they were).  At six weeks of fruitless searching, I'm just about to go shopping.

But today, I found it.  The big box from my closet with hats and boots and jewelry and my shoes.  Oh, how excited I was to find this box!  It has been hiding in a corner in the living room behind the sofa this whole time!  I ripped the tape off the top of the box and started pulling out my treasures.  

I was disappointed.  My anticipation put an unearned sparkle on my old things.  I took out a stack of lovely hats which have never fit me and my big hair.  I found a small box full of necklaces and other jewelry parts, all broken from curious baby hands.  There was a pile of old, raggedy bandanas which had seen lots of use from flag football and "duck, duck, goose."  The seams in my nice black boots were sprouting a fine crop of white threads.  I didn't even look in the small box holding my lingerie - I haven't been that honeymoon size for years.  But my shoes!  My shoes.  Old worn leather and holey canvas, broken straps and balding toes.  The shoes that looked nice were the ones that didn't fit well enough to get worn.  What a disappointment.

Well.  Maybe I'll fill up a box for the dump and another for the thrift shop.  And then I think I'll go shopping after all.

Cleaning the Boys' Room

I've been helping David and Eddie clean out their room.  This is like saying that Alaska is a bit chilly.  The room has been needing lots of help. We emptied their closet by throwing everything into a big pile in their room.  Can we really throw everything?  Fun!  But then we had an an enormous disaster.  And messes really aren't fun.  They did actually learn this good lesson.  Messes aren't fun.

Next came the sorting.  What???  Complaints all around.  How can we possibly sort all of this?  It's too much.  We can't do it!  A big job does feel overwhelming, doesn't it?  Enter a discrete Mom job.

I snuck into their room during the day and started picking up trash.  I filled three (THREE!) garbage bags full of broken pieces and parts to toys we don't have any more and smashed up Valentine's boxes and dry markers and crumpled school papers from years ago and candy wrappers and crumbly play-dough and wrapping paper and used tissues and...  It was impressive.  I was careful not to take anything that looked like a treasure, but boy there was a lot of garbage!

Then I collected all their clothing from the floor.  I hunted through piles and in boxes.  And when the boys got home, I asked them to bring me all of the clothes from their dressers.  All of it.  I washed it all - nine loads worth!  These boys definitely had too many clothes.  They had their winter clothes that fit, plus summer clothes and winter clothes to grow into.  I found boots and half a dozen pairs of snowpants and assorted sizes of coats.  Piles of scarves and hats and gloves don't belong in their room!  Neither do clothes that are too small.  And they had lots of hand-me-downs that their older brothers had just tossed into their room.

After all the laundry was done, the boys and I went "shopping" through the clean clothes.  They picked out enough clothes to cover them, but not so many that they wouldn't fit into their drawers.  I threw away an entire garbage bag full of stained undershirts, unders that had lots their elastic, and hole-full socks.  Out of the good clothes left over, I pulled enough to rotate back into their wardrobes when they wreck the next shirt, and we bagged up the rest to give to a family in need.

 I found some things that tugged at my heartstrings.

The sweater on the left was a hand-me-down when Alec was a small fry.  It was too big for him, but he rolled up the sleeves and wore it anyway.  Every time I see it, it reminds me of his pluck and determination.  The other boys have all had a turn with the sweater, but none of them have really wanted to wear it.  Time for a new family.

The striped sweater on the right was made by my first mother-in-law.  She spent hours of love-time knitting it for her oldest son, Jay.  I have the sweetest pictures of him in the sweater, decades go.  I'm sure his two younger brothers must have worn it as well.  I'm not sure how we ended up with the sweater after Jay and I married, but each of our first five boys has worn and loved it.  I'm amazed at the quality construction that makes it still look new after so long and so many boys.  I love having boys.  This one is going into my cedar chest to wait for the twins to get a little bit bigger.  I don't think I could part with it just yet.

With the garbage out and the clothing under control, David and Eddie (with more Mom help) could sort the rest of their belongings.  The four bins were Legos, things I want, things I don't want, and (more!) garbage.  We did it!  And no wonder they couldn't keep their room clean with that much stuff in it.  Way too much.

Now the things in their room are back down to a manageable number, just waiting for us to buy some good bins (they've just had an assortment of old, falling-apart moving boxes), and sort the things they do want.  Success!  And may we never again let it get that bad!

Stinky Inky

I was over visiting with Trent's parents, and my dear mother-in-law wanted to write something down.  She grabbed a red pen, but quickly realized that it was leaking and threw it out.  A few minutes later, little Georgie came over to me with a wild look on his face.  He held his hands out to me, and they were bleeding badly!  I jumped up and rushed him to the sink so we could figure out what the damage was.  Turns out that he had retrieved the leaking red pen from the garbage, and got red ink all over his hands.  Grateful it wasn't any worse, I cleaned him up as best I could.  It wasn't until later that I saw the rest of the red ink.

It was all.  Over.  My. White.  Jeans.  I know, I know.  Mothers of many children (or at least of young children) should not wear white anything.  Anywhere.

I went home quickly and tried to remedy the situation.  I tried the hairspray trick, and it lightened the red (turned it bright pink, actually).  I tried two other solutions, washing well between.  There is definitely less ink on my white jeans now, but it is still there enough that I can't really wear them.

To someone else, they might just be pants.  But I only have two pair of jeans (and one is a worn, thrift-store find), and a couple of scruffy pair of sweatpants.  This loss constitutes a major portion of my wardrobe..  And I liked those jeans.  They fit.  Sigh.

I do like being a mom, even at times like this.  Really.