Picky, Picky

I'm not a huge talker.  Some people like and/or need to talk things out even if it's just to sort things out.  I usually don't which Ryan loves/hates.  Perhaps that's why I don't sleep well, I tend to start my thinking sessions when I get in bed.  And that's also usually when my great ideas come.

Well, last night was different.  We were snuggled down for the night and Ryan and I began chatting...about everything.  

We talked and talked and talked.  It was wonderful.  

Then he said, as we were discussing [and doing lots of laughing about] each of the girls, I don't feel like I really parent.  I feel like it's just chaos all the time, and we're trying to just get through each day.

Yes.  That's exactly how it is.  There are very few conscientious parent-ing moments, and more like constant survival mode.

Which is why I've decided that I need to focus on just being a better me--for everyone's sake.

An Out

I don't know about your kids, but my baby dills can be Stuuuubborn. 

When Divine was a toddler she would guzzle milk like it was better than cookies or flourless chocolate cake [although it does go nicely with either.]  We would have to limit her intake, eventually, as we worried she was getting too much.  Is that possible?

Once she graduated from the sippy cup, however, she wouldn't touch the stuff.

Lately we've been trying to up her calcium intake and have requested she drink milk again.

Not a happy girl.  First there would be a loud howl of protest, then she would collapse in a heap, as though she had no bones [ironic, no?]  Next would come the pout and the cheek resting on a clenched fist, like she was coaxing her skin to mold over and around her hand.

In short: drama.  Every single time.  Even with cookies.  Or flourless chocolate cake with a side of raspberry sauce and maybe a lightly sweetened dollop of whipped cream.  I digress.

One evening at dinner I said to her, you know, Divine, when I was your age, I really liked to put ice in my milk to make it really REALLY cold.  Some people think it's strange, but I liked it that way.

Chirp. Chirp.

Would you like to try it that way?  Sure.

She drank it without pulling vomit face or major protest.

Sometimes we dig ourselves into a hole.

And sometimes we all just need an out,
because stubbornness might be genetic.

photos of our weekend, out getting fish tacos and onion rings

Good Morning.

the sleepOVER

3 batches of popcorn, and I completely forgot beverage!  I know!  So not like me.  We watched Flicka, maybe a bit too intense for my sensitive little dills, with the mountain lion attacking the horse and all.  Olive cried!  Our little tender girl.  She denied it, but those little sobs, I pulled her close and she snuggled right up.  Pearl just kept checking in with me about what was real and what wasn't.  She's always been that way.  Divine just sat in silence...like her mom.  No questions.  Just give her some popcorn and she's good.

Sleeping was a different matter.  We all snuggled down.  Olive was the first to fall asleep.  She sleeps just like she lives: full of passion.  There were flailing limbs, lots of repositioning.  I would scoot away 2 inches, and Olive would scoot closer 2 inches.  Divine was next and she fell asleep in the exact position she laid down.  Then there was Pearl.  She tossed and turned.  At one point she got her face really close to mine.  Sometimes I think that time in Korea and Japan rubbed off on her as she doesn't have that sense of personal space most Americans do.  I could tell her mind was processing the information of the day and it wasn't until she did that that she could finally fall asleep.  I was last--just like all those grade school sleepovers.  Finally at 11 I called my mom to ask if she could come get me so I could sleep in my own bed.  Proverbially speaking, that is, since they were in my bed, and my mom is currently celebrating their 35th anniversary, several states away.  I shimmied out of the sleeping bodies and took up slumber in another bed.

In the morning, I got back in bed with them and we held a brief scripture study and got them off to school.  

It was worth the lack of sleep, mine, that is.

A Picnic in December

We started our weekend with a picnic!  Almost Christmas and we were sitting there in our t-shirts, almost feeling hot.  We reminded the kids how lucky they were.  I don't think they listened.  Ryan gave our leftover chips to a homeless man.  He didn't want our oranges.  Ryan forgot to say something about scurvy.

Fall foliage is what we finally get here, not all those snowy and icy photos I'm seeing everywhere.

my baby dills in a row

Freckles plus a four leaf clover.  I think she's all set.

We almost couldn't peel their faces from the toy store window to continue our walk.  Sorry toy store owner.  You might need to hire someone to clean the smudges and drool left by my baby dills.

The hurricane simulator was a hit.  Clover didn't even go in and she was holding her head like her hair was going to fly off.

Zoltar gave us a very convoluted fortune.  I think it was good?

Beautiful scene, even if there is a little choking going on.

I brought a scarf in case I got cold.  I didn't.

Next up: the library.

I love how this girl snuggles down with books.  I just have to teach her how to put the ones she's already perused away before emptying the whole shelf.

The [mostly] happy family

The whole weekend happened to work out.  Ever have one of those?  Where you're in the right place at the right time?  It was delightful, especially since having all 5 kids in tow doesn't always produce the most enjoyable experience.  

Clover kept calling her little dragon they got at the library a monkey [mone-kee] and making him walk.  I think it wore both of them out.

We all slept well.  Our black and white holiday dress had a dry run on Sunday.  I was at church early and played the harp.  Divine came in green and brown[?].  Apparently her arm would. not. fit. through her sleeve.  Clover's dress was not yet complete, but we still eeked out a make-shift black and white ensemble.  They just might all be ready in time.  

Are you ready?

Cruise Control Not Included

Just when I thought I had everything under control.  A couple dozen finger sandwiches for Azure's class plus a book for a book exchange, 5 containers of frosting as well as a box of Kleenex for those less fortunate, grapes for Divine's class, washed and cut, a book for Pearl's class exchange, a can of white frosting and red plus green mints for Olive's class gingerbread house decorating, and don't forget the respective class parties for each as well as teacher gifts.  Everything was in check with the third black and white outfit finished, I was feeling, in control.  

Ryan took this morning off to take his mom to an angiogram appointment.  He was excited because he has an affinity for hospital food.  [This I did know before we got married].  We were sitting around last night discussing the details of my baby sister's baby she had after a quick 2 1/2 hour labor[!], all natural.  We were talking about his weight and length and dark hair that would be so foreign to us, wondering what they named the sweet thing [Clark Vaughn Jones] when Divine returned from ice skating.  Her first time, and she had been talking about it for weeks, maybe months.  I almost didn't let her go, but I knew she might hold that grudge for weeks, maybe months.  She returned in the middle of our celebratory conversation with a cup of hot chocolate and a sad face.  She fell after 5 minutes of skating and was supporting her wrist. I convinced Ryan to take her to the hospital in the morning, you know, since he would already be there.

So, turns out, I really don't have control at all.  This arm.  Broken.  And with two abdominal ultrasounds for the UTI frequenters scheduled for Friday, it seems I am anything but in control.  The frailties of life are just that: life.  I may not finish my black and white Clad Christmas series, I may just end up getting gift cards for all those teachers who care for my baby dills many hours a week, and I will be spending more time at the hospital than packing and decking the halls than planned, but it all highlights and bolds the genuine reason for the singing, the gifts, the baking, the traveling, and the lights.  I may not have my color coordinated photo op, but that certainly won't diminish the glory and hope that shines especially bright this time of year through the birth and life of our Save-ior.  I am grateful for these reminders that the fragility of life and lack of control is balanced by the promise of one day being perfected through Him.

Divine says she's getting a green cast.  Do you think she'll let me paint it black and white?

Stuffed Animals. No, really, stuffed animals.

Two things I love about giveaways: o1 Giving something fun to one of you and o2 Getting to know you!  I have very much enjoyed reading the fun things about you.  You all "know" me, so it's been splendid getting to know all my great readers!  Thank you for "de-lurking" to say hello and tell me things like you only eat in even numbers, you play detective to find lost toys with your children, and that you can't stand to wear socks.  You all sound like you'd be delightful neighbors.  

* * * * *

Ryan tells him I surprise him all the time with new things he learns about me, and claims that it's not fair I can read him like a picture book, my words, not his.

 I can and do, usually, but something I didn't know about him before we were married was his other love-

 -his love of old, family-owned hardware stores.  There are two of these taxidermist product-clad stores each owned by brothers.  Ryan told one brother how he frequently shops at the other Curry Thomas across town.  The man said, Well, the next time you're there, tell my brother you've just been to a real hardware store!

 Ryan took the day off work so we could do some Christmas shopping.  We stopped at a couple of consignment stores and a thrift store and found some books and board games for our girlies 5.  Then we drove past Curry Thomas and Ryan asked if I wanted to stop.  I, meaning him.  We bought a broom and a hose nozzle.  I teased him that he just thought up things to buy so we could stop.

 His smile confirmed my suspicion. 

Our last stop was lunch at our most favorite restaurant where you have to wait in line almost too long and sit communal-style in an almost too crowded room.

And to top it off, Clover matched the wall.

What is something delightful you've learned about your spouse through the years?

Puzzle Addiction

Ryan's mom has a game table that usually has a work-in-progress puzzle going on.  Ryan teases that I am a puzzle addict.  I suppose that is a true statement.  I never get one out to work on at our house.  It would suck me in and would get nothing accomplished, but when we're at her house I indulge.  Pearl always claims she wants to help, but then she comes over and leans on the table [and on whomever happens to be there], knocking pieces on the ground, placing them where they most obviously do not belong, hiding them, contorting the outer frame.  She wears me out.

We all start puzzles the same way: dump out the box and flip them over to the right side, just as we all start out our life, learning and doing the basics of rolling over, crawling, walking, learning to read and reason.  I've watched all the baby dills do it and it captures my fascination each and every time.  It's even more quenching and fulfilling to observe when they are old enough to cheer each other on.  

Then we work on the easily recognizable puzzle pieces:  the outer edges, the brightly colored, the different and unusual.  We still have to work at them, but at least it's easy to narrow down where they go in the scheme of the big picture.  We know the basics of what we want in life: perhaps a family, a career, a desire to see the world.  We work on them sometimes all at once or focus on just one intently and work at it until a form is fully visible: 

Then comes the hardest part.  The minutia.  The background and all the pieces that look like they go one place, but go elsewhere entirely.  Sometimes I focus so much on a specific piece that I'm sure I can place in the correct spot that time is wasted and frustrations arise.  Sometimes it's best to put that piece down and work somewhere else, or to study the big picture for clues and hints.  Then someone else may walk up and point out exactly where it goes which can be accepted graciously or begrudgingly that you, with all your hard work should have figured it out.  Sometimes it takes a different perspective.

And then sometimes you just need to walk away for a little break, because all the pieces start to look the same, even though you've handled each one multiple times.  Like the way you respond to your child who thinks no matter what you do it is never enough, or that the service you offer up isn't recognized, appreciated and perhaps it's even spurned.  Those are the times when we must realize that we are all given every one of the puzzle pieces we need.  They are all there.  Some of us have oddly shaped pieces, some of us have 1000 pieces while others of us have 100 pieces. We have been given the diffculty level that is best for us.  We are all learning and growing and trying.  And I don't think that anyone would really want to trade their puzzle for another.  Despite the many pieces that I drop, misplace and put in the wrong spot  I can see the potential of what I am creating and find such deep satisfaction when that piece slips easily into place after trying to jam it into so many others.  I will gladly accept help, even if it comes in the form of a Pearl and will continue to be addicted to seeing my puzzle come together as a whole and the beginnings of those in my care.

Hole-y Traditions

Most of the traditions I recall from my childhood revolve around food.  My dad would always take our request for cakes on our birthday [and we were creative in our requests!], our traditional Christmas dinner celebrating our heritage from both sides of the family would be served, and, when we were older, ringing in the new year rolling corn husks and steaming homemade tamales always brought friends and family together to stand around the stove.  We would try to decipher who make which one as they were unwrapped and devoured with the buffet of sauces my mom had prepared.  People would come and go as there were always other obligatory "parties" to attend, but we all knew the Knudsen Kitchen was where the real fun was.

 I've kneaded some of those traditions into my own family, but always feel the desire to have more traditions in our family.  Donald Hallstrom said, "Uplifting traditions play a significant role in leading us toward the things of the Spirit.  Those that promote love for Deity and unity in families and among people are especially important."  On Halloween we have a tradition of making pumpkin donuts.  Ryan loves most anything pumpkin, and really we have it year-round, but these are saved for one day only.  Saturday night, two broken thermometers and a trip to buy two more later, we were bubbling and boiling our little donut holes.

 Of course the kids love the nutmeg-cinnamon-sugar topping the most, but the adults agreed that the crunchy shell of a freshly fried fritter was far more fulfilling.  I have a new [non-culinary] tradition I'm planning on slipping in our usual holiday routines this year [more about that later], but am always on the look-out for some fresh inspiration.

What traditions do you savor as a family?

recipe

I got a call from Pearl's teacher. Don't you hate those? It is never good news. Never. She said Pearl was crying, that she missed me. Not sick. No fever. She just missed her mom. So what did I do? What could I do? I picked the little Dills up early and we got shakes, ice cream, and really hot french fries. Hot french fries make everything better.

Don't you think Olive has the right idea? Use a spoon and a straw at the same time to enjoy the shake more {quickly}.