Dream on

Yesterday morning in church, the pastor had the kids come up for a little chat about Advent. Harper had her hand raised before any questions had been posed, so she was more than ready to give her response when Mr. Seay wondered if any of them remembered what they received for Christmas last year. Harper got the mike, appropriately restated the question in her response, and came forth with this:

"Last year for Christmas I got a little baby puppy."

And everyone collectively said, "Awwwwwwwwww," because I'm sure they were picturing the cute little girl with the cute little voice cuddling her cute little puppy.

Except that Harper did NOT get a little baby puppy for Christmas last year, she got a play kitchen.

Meanwhile, Hudson has taken to wearing his puppy around in a sling fashioned out of his special blanket and a clothespin.

So yes, our kids REALLY want a real live puppy. And no, we are not getting them one.

We spent last week with the Grandparents Pate and we made gingerbread men:

And dirt soup:

The husband and I also got to have dinner out with the Youngs (Carrie, who leaves sage comments as "Ken" about mothering her four sweet kids) and I laughed so hard that my stomach was sore. Carrie and I have known each other since preschool? earlier? and it's such a delight to be able to share childhood memories (some really WEIRD ones, incidentally) and also have life right now so in common as well. And speaking of old friends, happy birthday to you, Mrs. Dyson! Forty is the New Thirty, you know.

Audience

I just heard this conversation as I was nursing Helena before putting her down for the night (the husband is teaching a late class and is not here which makes the evening routine Almost Unbearable):

Harper: Hudson, go play with your cars! I need some TIME by MYSELF.

Hudson: (plaintive, pitiful) But I want to be with YOU.

Harper: (highly unpleasant snorty sound) HUDSON, NO. I need some quiet time by myself.

Hudson: (sad pitiful whimpering noises)

So, where in the world did she hear something like that? From me, that's where. Today during the after lunch time which used to be her nap time and is now her quiet time. She really wanted a little reading time (we've just started a book called Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons) before she had her quiet time but I just couldn't do it. It was an exhausting morning of failed potty training (at the park, so, totally my fault) with the Hudson boy and I was spent. I told her I just needed a little time to myself and I sent her off to her room. It had its intended effect, obviously. Maybe you'll think it's interesting that I have not been by myself for four and a half years now. I have been away from Harper twice--the 36 hours I was in the hospital having Hudson and the 36 hours I was in the hospital having Helena (which is the only time I have been away from Hudson). I do, once a week or so, when the kids are napping or in bed, and the husband is home, go to Target or the grocery store by myself. Occasionally, my mom will come in town so the husband and I can have a date. Every month or so I have a meal with the girls from my Bible study. I enjoy these times, perhaps too much. Depending on which book you read, the husband and I should be having some weekends away, just the two of us. But since I am still breastfeeding, this just seems like lots of work. At some point there will be time for this. And the time is not now. But I don't always do a good job of remembering how fast these Times of Great Dependence are going to pass. I try to remember to be daily thankful for my healthy children, whose needs pale in comparison to some. I try to remember how quiet were so many of my days and weeks and years when I wondered if I would ever be married; when children seemed like a hopeless dream. And yet I still lose my patience. Daily. I struggle with taking the easy way out (read: hours of tv or dvd's while I Get SOMETHING DONE). I am irate. I am fast to frustration and slow to grace. I focus on why things are HARD instead of being a creative problem solver. Instead of taking the time to teach, I take over and do it myself. And they are watching. And they ARE learning. My performance, it should be said, needs work. I am thankful in advance for those mercies, which, we are promised, are new every morning.

make yourself (a little too) comfortable

This is us yesterday:
And us today (at the zoo):

A miraculous turnaround. We had a grand time at Dewberry Farm last Friday, but Hudson apparently acquired a stomach virus along with his many wonderful farm memories. As stomach viruses go it was very manageable (fever, headache, just one vomit episode). He generously shared with his big sister (exact re-enactment, including just the one vomit episode). Thankfully, the rest of us have been spared thus far.

On the way home from the zoo, where we tried to keep to ourselves as much as possible, just in case we're shedding Virus, I heard Hudson say something about a bus driver:

Me: "You SEE a bus driver?"
Hudson: "No ma'am, mumblemumblemumble busdriver!"
Me:"You want to BE a bus driver?"
Pause. "Yes, ma'am."
Harper: "Hudson!"
Hudson: "Yes ma'am" (this cracks me up every time when he calls her 'ma'am')
Harper: "Hudson, you CAN be a bus driver. I don't know yet what I want to be when I grow up. Maybe a ballerina. Boys can't actually BE ballerinas, so you can't be a ballerina too. Well, boys CAN do ballet, but they do NOT wear dresses, they wear black pants, tight pants and a t-shirt."
Hudson: "I want to HEAR bus driver."

I finally realized that he hadn't meant to discuss his career aspirations, though he didn't seem to mind. He wanted to hear the song "Bus Driver" which is on the husband's ipod that happened to be in the car. So, we listened to "Bus Driver." It's an old Derek Webb song and it seems kind of sad the first few times you listen to it, but it's really kind of the antidote to a really sad song like "Eleanor Rigby." Man, that Father McKenzie darning his socks in the night--gets me every time.

A few days ago we were at the park with our neighbors and Harper invited them to come over to our house after. She said, "We'll walk in, take off our shoes, take off our pants, wash our hands, then we can PLAY." If you have ever needed an explanation for why the kids are pantsless in so many of my pictures, there you have it.

More than enough

That's Harper, sorting her money. She would do this daily if I would let her, which I don't, mostly because the little stopper thing in her bank is extremely difficult to get out. A couple of things had me thinking about contentment last week. I read an article about John O'Quinn, an (in)famously wealthy Houston attorney who died in a car wreck a couple of weeks ago. This particular article detailed O'Quinn's car collection of approximately eight HUNDRED cars. Not Matchbox cars, mind you. Eight HUNDRED actual collection-worthy full-sized automobiles. Apparently O'Quinn himself wasn't particularly involved in the acquisition of the eight HUNDRED cars, presumably because he was busy making money to pay for them. Certainly he had never driven most of them, perhaps there were even some that he had never even seen. Maybe he figured that someday he would have made enough money and he could go wander around in this giant warehouse with his eight HUNDRED cars and maybe he might even take a few of them out for a spin, like Ferris Beuller in Cameron's dad's vintage Ferrari. Or he could sort them like Harper with her money: red sporty coupes over here, Silver Ghost Rolls Royces over here, the Pope's little Ford Escort over there.. There's a famous quote in which some reporter asked some unfathomably rich man (Getty? Rockerfeller?) how much money is enough. Umfathomably rich man responded, "Just one dollar more." So, that's us too, isn't it? Rarely realizing that we actually have plenty. We bemoan what we are missing instead of relishing what we already have. Which, incidentally, is another interesting aspect of the O'Quinn cautionary tale. He made lots of his money (pre tort reform) representing people who had been harmed (I really want to put that in quotes, but will refrain) by breast implants and diet pills. We always want just one dollar more (or one pound less, in the case of the diet pills) even when it destroys us.

I also read an article about a Russian tycoon (Roman somebody?) who had, the day before, spent upwards of $47,000. On LUNCH. And you know what? I'll bet he was hungry again a few hours later.

So I'm going to be deliberate to be satisfied with today. To be actively thankful for the abundance that I have right now. Instead of bemoaning my noisy life (my ears were actually beginning to burn one day last week with all of the small children and their talking squealing singing talkingtalkingtalkingtalkingtalking) I will remind myself that my life was quiet for many years before and will again be quiet many years hence. And I will delight in the cacophony. I will drive my minivan as if it were a Silver Ghost. I will thank my husband for the work that he does to provide more than enough for us. I will glory in the dappled sunlight as it falls on my curly haired dear ones as they squeal on the backyard swingset, realizing that my dusty passport, and my beloved Budapest and Prague (and Barcelona and Patagonia and St. Petersburg and Athens and..) will still be there when my kids get a little older. For now, there is sweet abundance here.

Helena at nine months and one day

Nine months in, nine months out.

Still toothless. The other two were late getting teeth too, but I think this is a record. Soon enough.

Still nursing 4-5 times a day but I have been making much more of an effort with food. Every night for dinner she gets oatmeal mixed with something (sweet potatoes, apples and blueberries, pears, bananas) which she seems to really enjoy. She follows each bite with some fingers, which makes for a slimy mess. About every third day, she'll have a jar or two of baby food at lunch as well. She especially likes sitting at the table eating with Harper and Hudson.
She is in bed by 6:30pm and is sleeping through until 6:30 or 7am!! The night feeding went away without any "Ferberizing". I'm glad. She is just such a happy, content little lady. As long as I am pretty consistent to be home for naps (usually 1-2 hours morning, and 2-3 hours afternoon) she will go an entire day without crying. I put her in the sleep sack, sing a song, put her down in her crib, she talks to herself a little, finds her fingers, and then drifts off to sleep. She also wakes up happy. I'll hear quiet little talking sounds and when I open the door to get her, she greets me with the biggest smile.

When she's awake she likes exploring, but she's also happy to sit and play. Her blocks and stacking cups are her favorites.

She is really good at pulling up and then getting herself back down without toppling over. "Dah-dah-dah" is still her preferred sound but she's been experimenting with"bah-bah-bah" some too. And blowing raspberries when no one is looking at her and she feels like we really should be. She is never unhappy outside (like her mother). She is a little stranger-wary and will study a new or newish person, then cut her eyes at me to see if all is right in her world. She is an accomplished clapper and sometimes, if Daddy is beat-boxing, she will also throw in a little shoulder shimmy.

We, amidst the pumpkins, minus the Daddy, who was photographing. Helena was trying very hard to wiggle from my grasp and get at the pumpkin.

In the middle

I believe it was #64 of the theses that stated, "Thou shalt not place me betwixt my sisters for photo opportunities of a vainglorious nature."