Back from the dark ages

We got our internet connection up and running again today. If you saw my twitter updates, then you already know that there was a major lightning strike in our backyard last Thursday afternoon. And a small grass fire. And another power outage (but only for 5 HOURS this time instead of 5 days). And in the process, our router and ethernet card got fried. But fortunately our computer was spared.

In my next post, I'll share pictures of all the excitement.

It was a year ago today that our street in Johnson flooded. The fire in our yard brought those same feelings of helplessness right back. These "acts of God" are gonna give me a heart attack!!

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Is that what I think it is?

Chris did something simple but amazing for me the other day: he set my screen saver to randomly scroll through the pictures stored on our computer, even within all the separate folders. I've been reveling in the many sweet moments we've captured of our children. I must admit, though, that I'd have a hard time knowing which baby was which without the date stamp; MAN, do our kids look similar!

Only problem is, it does indeed display EVERY picture, which means, for those keeping track of the score at home, that even the ones of Cooper being born are included. (Yeah, we DO have a few of those.) So until I can figure out how to tweak the settings and this little issue is resolved, I would advise you to avert your eyes from our errant computer screen.

Thanks and have a lovely day!

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Well, Chris. . .

. . . better start polishin' that shotgun. She has begun to smile.

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On "babies" and discipline

Jackson was crackin' me up tonight. After dinner, he started carrying a towel around, pretending it was his baby, Moses. He changed the baby's diaper, kissed the boo-boo's on his toes when I accidentally sat on him (the towel not Jackson)--only after requiring that I apologize (to the towel), and even nursed the baby--by pulling up his shirt and cradling Moses against his bosom.

It was so cool to watch his imagination in action. During his play, Jackson showed quite the nurturing instinct. At one point in the evening, he asked me to intervene during a harrowing incident involving Cooper and a swinging bat, saying, "He's gonna die (kill) my baby." I did and therefore the crisis was averted.

Since we seem to be in constant discipline-mode around here lately, it is inevitable that a couple of funnies would occur during the, um, debriefings, if you will. The first was a couple of days ago, when we were trying to get Jackson to understand the cause-and-effect relationship between his actions and their results. We have said something similar many times before, but we were explaining that his disobedience has consequences. He quickly piped up, "I don't like those. I don't like consetwations."

Tonight, after a long afternoon of having to correct/redirect/discipline Jackson, I was having a heart-to-heart with him about what my role in his disobedience is and what I feel when he disobeys (it's actually a weighty concept to explain to a four-year-old; further complicated by the fact that he sees me sometimes respond out of anger, which is the wrong response). He was really trying to understand what I was saying; showing genuine concern, he looked into my eyes while rubbing my arm and said, "Did I push your buttons, Mom?"

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Update on Babygate 2009

You all might remember the letter I wrote a while back about having to ask a little boy at Mother's Day Out not to touch my baby, right?

Well, he tried it again!

Let me set the scene for you.

When I go to get my boys from school, I take Ella in with me in her infant carseat. I usually set her just inside the doorway to Jackson's classroom while I gather his things and try (rather unsuccessfully) to pry Cooper away from the toys in there.

During the pickup last Thursday, I put Ella in her usual spot and started up a conversation with Jackson's teacher while trying to round up the boys as they played together and got reacquainted; you'd think they'd been apart for weeks! "Cooper, I MISSED you! Did you miss me?" "Yeah." "Cooper! I love you and I I like you." "Yove you, yike you." And so on.

After a while, I began to move toward the door, saying, "I'm leaving, boys. Are you coming with me?" (from page 2 in the Parenting Playbook.) Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of littleboy in the doorway. THE little boy. And right behind him, his mother--talking rapidly under her breath and frantically grabbing at his hands before he laid them on my unsuspecting child. It was close, very close.

I'm pretty sure TouchyPunchy's Mom didn't see me. If she had, she might have been puzzled by just how amused I was at the situation. For starters, from what I could tell, Touchy couldn't have seen the carseat for more than a millisecond before deciding that (a.) it had a baby in it, and that (b.) the baby? it must be touched. You gotta appreciate the little guy's fervor. And to top it off: that it just happened to be MY baby, again--the lady who apparently takes issue with such a thing--well that's, just, comedy gold!

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They're getting so big--The Cooper Edition

Dear Cooper,
I canNOT believe you are two. What a wonderful little boy you are becoming! So willing to go with the flow, you say "okay" to many of our suggestions or Jackson's wild imaginings, and it melts my heart. You have a sweet, snuggly spirit; you do not hug without a kiss and vice versa, and often you initiate these exchanges, saying "'ug" or "kih" while walking toward us purposefully from across the room.

You love your big brother and mimic much of what he does. Though he can come on a little strong sometimes, which scares you, you are quick to forgive and forget in order to resume the playtime. You love all things wet--dog bowls, water guns, bathtime, especially. Now that it is getting warmer, I fear I will have to constantly be putting clean clothes on you as your adventurous spirit takes you all over our little corner of the world.

You always call for me in the mornings when you wake up; if I don't come quickly enough you start naming off other loved ones who might come to your assistance--"Eenda (Linda)? Gampa?"--too funny. Sometimes you are in a great mood, but often you need a little space to get the grumps out. I totally understand this, as I am exactly the same way. You usually hand me the entire contents of your crib before you are ready to be picked up; you are quite the collector of stuffed animals and warm blankies. When you needed a little extra comfort because we had somehow ventured from the house without your "blankiedoggies" a few months ago, I lent you your sister's "kih-ee cat", and you've yet to relinquish it back to her. You still like to have your "bap-by" (paci), but I've known you to sleep without it on occasion.

You run rather than walk to get from here to there, and you have this great way of pumping your arms in a circle out in front of you while doing so. It is incredibly endearing. You are a ball of energy from morning to nighttime. You are still taking an afternoon nap these days, albeit unwillingly at times. You had been requiring two naps, but that morning one fell by the wayside after your sister joined our family.

I love how observant you are. You see and understand so much of the world around you. Even in the hospital, upon first meeting Ellie, you raised your hand and said "Hi, Budder" to her, proving that you understood your relationship to her was like the one you have with Jackson. You ask insightful questions and make amazing connections between cause and effect. You are very sensitive to the moods of the people around you, and you offer comfort like an old soul. You are such good medicine for me.

I love, love, love you, my sweet Boo Bear. I am so proud to be your mommy. Thank you for living life to the fullest and teaching me how to do the same.

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If only I were so grateful

We are having the boys' birthday party at our house in a little while. Last night, I wrapped their individual presents but left a joint gift out on the table as a centerpiece because it totally went with the (impromptu) theme of Cars.

It took him a little while after he woke up, but Jackson spied the gift and immediately wanted to play with it. He had been asking for tracks for his cars for his birthday the last few weeks. I kept this in mind, and when I went to the big consignment sale last week it was the first thing I looked for. I found something I thought would be perfect to meet this request, and it was only a few dollars too.

It is such a joy to give this boy a present. I tear up just thinking about it. He shows such genuine gratitude as he showers the gift-giver with multiple thank yous. And it doesn't have to be a huge thing either. At four years old, he already gets that it's not the thing but the thought that counts.

Just a small sampling of the things Jackson said after he found the car tracks:
"This is SO COOL, mom! Thank you!!"
"Look, Dad, Mommy heard me, and she got this for me!"
"I LOVE it! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I love you, sweet boy. Happy Birthday!!

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Stuff that dreams are made of

Jackson has been remembering his dreams lately and sharing them with us as soon as he wakes up. He knows that the events he is describing are dreams--insomuch as that is the proper word to use when speaking of them. But I'm just not sure he fully gets what dreams are vs. reality or that his dreams are solely experienced by him alone.

This morning, Jackson awoke and said that he had a dream and started describing it. In it were two doggies and everyone in our family, "Mommy, and Cooper, and Ella, and Daddy. . .," and we had traveled somewhere to get these doggies. I said that it sounded like a pretty great dream. Jackson agreed and went back to talking about it. Then he started asking us if we remembered what we'd done (presumably in his dream). Agreeable Cooper affirmed that he did indeed remember "that," which made me smile because he usually goes along with things if they seem harmless enough to him.

One of the cuter anecdotal things about this story is the way that Jackson says remember. It sounds more like "muh-member." And when Cooper said his signature "yeah" (which sounds a bit like a sweet, breathy afterthought) after being asked if he muh-membered, Jackson responded, "Oh. Good. That's cool." And on the morning went in similar loving fashion--two sweet brothers who forgot, if for only a few moments, that they were supposed to be feuding.

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Sometimes we talk about Jesus

I am not really enjoying the discipline part of my days with Jackson. It's hard to stay consistent, to resist getting angry/emotional, and to stay encouraged that ANY of this is getting through to him. How many times do I say, "How many times do I have to tell you this?" right?

It has its moments of joy, however.

Like when I let him off the hook occasionally. I didn't come up with this idea all on my own, but sometimes I tell him that I'm going to give him grace like Jesus gave us grace when we didn't deserve it. That He took away all the bad things we've done because we couldn't handle the burden on our own. And Jackson GETS it. Really. I know because he responds with love and repentance and thankfulness. I've gotta believe that it's because the gospel is already written on his heart.

Even more, today, after we talked about Jesus' grace, Jackson asked me where Jesus is now. I told him that He is in Heaven with God. He persisted, "But where is His house?" and before I could answer, he continued, "He's in our hearts? Jesus lives inside our hearts?"

I'm telling you, the faith of a child is a beautiful thing to witness--so pure and true and simple. Why do we insist on making things so complicated?

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Happiness is. . .

. . . somebody else running the vacuum cleaner, or in this case three somebodies.

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The wall, it has been hit

I got nothin' to say, so here's some recent pictures of my babes.

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Discussions from a date (or when did we become so incredibly boring?)

We had tickets to the Razorback baseball game last Sunday. I called the ticket office that morning, and everything was still on according to the recorded message. So my mom came to watch ALL the kids (thanks, mom!), and Chris and I drove all the way to south Fayetteville only to find that they had canceled the game thirty minutes after we called. I guess the field was still too covered up by Saturday's snow. Bummer! We were already out sans kids, so we stopped in for a yummy meal at the BBQ place up the road from Baum Stadium.

We took our sweet time, and it was so nice to just be a couple on a date for once.

I guess it's a sign of the times that the first opportunity Chris and I had to be alone since Ella was born, we spent almost the entire meal talking politics and the economy. How romantic! :) But at least we didn't talk about the kids the whole time, right?

During our conversation, I finally put words to the general uneasiness I feel about the state of our economy. I said, "I think I can put up with the losses and the downturn and pay cuts, if I knew that the rules hadn't changed." I've never really experienced a recession before(as an adult, anyway), and maybe they always feel like this, but it just seems to me that there's a distinct possibility that things will never be as prosperous as they were. That even if we do everything the experts have recommended (up to this point), we won't garner the same returns that used to be an almost guarantee.

The other troublesome thing about the economy for me is that we never really know what is happening until after the fact--like wearing a headlamp backwards, only able to see the direction from which we've come. This means that we put our money out there, and find out at least six months later what we SHOULD have done with it. *sigh*

It is in this vein that I came across this New York Times article today, "Japan’s Slump Tests Faith in the Resilience of Stocks." Here's an excerpt from it:

For those seeking solace in the conventional wisdom that stocks rise in the long run, consider this: 20 years after Japan’s stock market peaked, share prices are still less than 25 percent of their top values.

I realize that it is written about Japan and apples & oranges and all, but it an interesting read, none the less. And a little depressing. So, if you've had all you can take about howbadthingsare, I don't recommend reading it.

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She's just so beautiful!

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Don't miss this

I've mentioned a few times that newborns make me a little sad because they change so quickly, and I feel like I'm scrambling to enjoy them to the fullest in a race against time.

I came across this poem today (written in 1958 and published in Ladies' Home Journal), and it puts beautiful words to the bittersweet I feel toward this time I have with my babies. I do not exaggerate when I say that it has changed me as it points to what really matters in this life.

Song for a Fifth Child.

Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

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