Things I know now that I am 18

You can't drive 42 in a 30.

Police officers don't care if you're cute and polite.

They'll give you a ticket anyway.

Just because my debit card worked in the store, doesn't mean there is money in my account.

When my curfew is 11:00 pm and I walk through the door at 11:05, I better be prepared for a lecture.

I hate lectures.

And curfews for that matter.

My parents don't know anything, yet they know "everything."

I know you say my room smells like dirty socks, but it's not dirty socks at all, it's my knee pads. Okay, it's probably the socks too. Well, it could be the dirty uniforms and work-out clothes. And maybe the tennis shoes. The old food could contribute. But really, I have no idea what all the fuss is about, I can't smell a thing.

Cell phone calls at 3am get me in a lot of trouble.

Being grounded stinks.

Parents giveth and they taketh away (ex: my phone, my car, my computer, my freedom).

When flying a plane at 5500 feet, it's not wise to fall asleep at the controls.

Being the oldest of six is a tough job. Oh, the pressure!

It's not me that's moody and grumpy, it's all of THEM.

You shouldn't say, "Pffft...They'll never fire me" because it will happen.

I know I act like I'm ready to graduate and get out of here and everyone in my house drives me crazy, but I really love all of them and I know they all love me...How could they not?

Things I know now that I am five months old

Daddy sometimes puts my clothes on backwards so Mommy has to fix it, and then she laughs at him.

I would have rolled over a lot sooner if people didn't hold me so much...but I'm not telling them that.

Mommy gets grumpy when I want to get up at 4am.

If I can reach it, it's going in my mouth.

I need my mom to hold me while I sleep; this includes all night long and for every nap. It's even better when she lets me nurse-sleep, my absolute favorite activity.

Those loud buzzers at the volleyball games? Not a fan.

If you stand up and bounce me, I'm putty in your hands.

I'm a drooler. I drool on everything and it doesn't bother me at all.

That baby in the mirror is really fun to talk to (and she's pretty darn cute).

I do NOT enjoy that car seat. In fact, since my screaming doesn't stop you from putting me in that torture chair, I'm going to have to come up with a new strategy, and it won't be pretty.

I like to lick the cold, wet outside of Mommy's ice water glass. I like to lick her face. I like to lick.

I really love my family. I live for the tickles, giggles, kisses, snuggles, hugs, and baby talk.

Life is good.

"Keaton! Be still!!"

"How can I get a good taste of you when you keep moving?!"

Most toddlers nap with a blankie or a binkie...

Ours prefers his new Diego ball, his Gap cap...
















...and the ever-comforting sleeping baby sister.

In all fairness, he did what I asked

I urged Landon (3) to pick up the mess he'd made when he'd strewn items on the floor. I was busy with Peyton and didn't supervise the clean-up. He returned, so proud of a job completed and assured me it was well done. I went to inspect and was thrilled to find the area clutter-free. We high-fived as I praised his "big boy" action and the speed in which he accomplished his assignment.

I might have celebrated a little too early.





It's seems our decorative bird cage is a new easy place to "hide" items.
















Mess off the floor, Mommy temporarily happy...yep, he's figuring it all out. Smart kid.

Well, other than the whole we-can-still-see-everything part.

God just welcomed a new angel

Sweet baby Copeland went home tonight. Amazingly, her parents have updated. Worrying about that beautiful baby girl all night and all day makes me so very thankful as I watch my own baby girl breathe so effortlessly. Copeland touched more lives in eight days than most people do in many more. We have all been blessed. She is now safe in the arms of Jesus.

The 11th Commandment?

Hayden was studying his Bible verse for this week which happened to be the Fourth Commandment: "Remember the Sabbath Day, to keep it holy." He quickly memorized it and decided to look ahead to future verses, reading Commandments Five and Six, verses for the next two weeks, with ease.

Hayden: "Mom! I can even read the next one, number 7!

Mom: "You can? What is it?"

Hayden: "Thou shalt not get allergies."

Mom (pausing to look at him): "I don't think that's what it says. Try again."

Hayden (pointing to his school paper): "Yes ma'am! See, right here, 'Thou shalt not get allergies.'"

Mom: "Hayden, it says 'Thou shalt not commit adultery.'"

Hayden: "Oh, what does that mean? God doesn't want us to get sick?"

Mom (stammering like crazy): "Well, umm...umm...God just...umm...hmmm.

Hayden: "Don't you know, Mom?"

Mom (accepting temporary defeat): "You're right, Hayden, God doesn't want us to get sick."

Hayden (nodding proudly): "I knew that."

Whew! I just bought myself two more weeks to decide how to explain adultery to a six-year old boy. I think maybe Dad should handle this one.

Please pray...

...for this family. I simply cannot imagine. What a precious baby, a faithful family, an excruciatingly beautiful story.

May God bless you Conor, Boothe, Sellers, and sweet baby Copeland.

William Tell Overture for Moms

This brilliant mom created a song that condenses everything a mother says in 24 hours down to 2:55.

I think I am going to adopt this as my theme song:

(You may have to click twice on the arrow)

"Five more minutes Mom!"

As the summer temperatures linger and our daylight hours shorten, the children of our neighborhood try to hold on to every second of before-bedtime play. The girls work on "homework," while the boys try to figure out new ways to torture the girls.

They play hard and come in exhausted, ready to fall into bed. Once the time changes and the temperatures drop, I'll probably miss this as much us they will.

Okay, who did it?

I just got my fourth call from the people at Senior America! This is so not funny.

His own style

The shirt is on backwards.






















The snow boots are pulled high over mix-matched socks.






























Yet questionable fashion sense doesn't slow down our little scooter phenom.

Tiny tot in a box

Why four months is my all-time favorite baby age

The smiles are toothless and never-ending.
The coos are unexpected and sweet.
The hands can now reach and touch my face.
The neck is the site of a million smooches and nuzzles.
The legs are chubby and ticklish.
The tummy is vulnerable and beacons raspberry kisses.
The crying is rare and short-lived.
The smell is heavenly and life-affirming.
The laughs fill our home and draw an audience.
The skin is soft and squishy.
The eyes look with goodness and adoration.
The hugs revive me and remind me of my many blessings.
The feet are tiny and stop for massages.
The kisses are wet and drooley and sweeter than nectar.
The heart knows no sadness or hurt.

And for just a short while longer, Mommy is necessary and perfect.

Wacky wish of the week

Reagan (in her best whiny-baby voice): "Mommy, Peyton's getting so big already; can we PLEASE have another baby."




Ummm, yeah, I'll get right on that.

Spell checker

Hayden (6): "Mom, I can spell the word 'cake' because it's one of my spelling words. Wanna hear?"

Mom: "Yes, spell it for me."

Hayden: "C. A. K. E. See, I can spell it!"

Mom: "You sure can! Good job!"

Landon (3 and needing attention): "I can spell too!"

Mom: "You can? What can you spell?"

Landon (proudly): "K. L. T. Y."

Hayden (unimpressed): "Landon, that's the radio station we listen to in the car."

Landon (even more proud): "Yep! And I can spell it!"

"I feel pretty! Oh, so pretty!"

See, I CAN be sweet to my baby sister.

I just usually choose not to.



See, I'm being nice.








Still being nice.








Still being nice.


Oops! How'd that picture get in here?


I didn't do anything! I promise!

If you sprinkle when you tinkle...

...then you're probably my son.

I know it's still too early to complain. I mean, it was only a few short months ago that I was lamenting Landon's tardy entry into the world of serious potty training. A few weeks later he woke up, decided he was "big" and would no longer wear diapers, and he's been good to "go" ever since. Aside from some night-time/nap-time Pull-Up precautions, he is potty trained and I am so very thankful.

Since I know it would be counterproductive to voice my concerns directly to Landon, I am going to utilize this venue for a few of my (his!) potty issues that are driving me bananas. Please bear with me as I vent...quietly...so as not to cause any unnecessary toddler regression.

Dearest Landon,

I have some potty requests I would like for you to consider during your next trip to tinkle. I will say these as gently as possible so I hope you can feel the love with which I speak.

1. AIM! I'm not referring to a few little sprinkles that find their way onto the seat. I'm talking about puddles on the floor and the oft doused walls. My bathrooms, unfortunately will never be the same. And I know you can hit your mark because I've seen you spray your brother's leg from clear across the other side of the bathtub while bathing...and he's a moving target! You can do this! I have faith in you.

2. LOWER! The seat that you lifted to go can surely be put back down once you're done. You've gone from slamming the darn thing with such force that we thought you had broken the lid, to rarely putting it down and it is causing me great hesitation each time I enter. I have "fallen in" more times than I care to count and it just really grosses me out.

3. FLUSH! When you were younger, you would enter the bathroom simply to flush the toilet. You would flush it over and over and over until we had to start barricading your entry. Now I hear, "It's too scary, Momma. It's too loud!" when I ask if you've done it. If I insist that you go back and flush, you will run in, push the handle down and then fly around the corner, barreling over anything in your way. Trust me son, the toilet will not attack.

Now when I am able to steal away for a few seconds to use our facilities unchaperoned by you, our family tinkle-inspector, I have to wipe down the toilet and walls, lower the seat, and flush before I can even think about why I'm there. I just don't have the time to waste what with everyone needing me as soon as I enter.

So help me out Landon...PLEASE! I did this with your brother as well so I knew it was coming. But now I am older and more tired and just want to go to a clean bathroom relatively quickly. Is it too much to ask?

I love you,

Mom

(Ahhhh. I feel a little better.)

Hidden treasures?

I found an old Batman lunch box buried between some stuffed animals and a pile of Legos recently. Irritated that it was left where it shouldn't have been, (we have a history of fossilized lunch food findings) I went to put it away and noticed it was quite heavy. Hesitant to open it, and already holding my breath in preparation of the funky stench sure to escape, I peeked inside.













Evidently, Landon decided to pack himself a few necessities: a ball, a baby doll, and one of baby sister's wet diapers that didn't make it to the trash (That's his job). Good thing I looked at the contents, but an even better thing that I already had my breath held.

I guess I need to be thankful that diaper was just wet. Ewwwww.

Guess why I'm smiling

'Cause I rolled over today! I'm thrilled but my mommy's sad.

The fine line between too big and too little

I have to make a decision every morning, a decision most people take for granted, yet I ponder and worry about it from the moment I awake. I routinely ask: Do I dare attempt it and take the chance, or should I just leave it for another day? How long can I truly wait before people begin to notice, to whisper behind my back and glance at me with disparaging eyes? This decision that rules my mornings, causes me such trepidation and hinges on the whims of others, is this:

Do I bathe today or not?

I know. It's gross. But it's a real concern for me. It's not that I don't have the time, I do. It's not that I don't have the resources, I have those too. The true problem is that I have...a three-year-old.

This boy toddler we'll call...oh, I don't know...Landon, forces me to alter my beauty routine to the point that I'm a little, well, skanky some days because I must supervise him at all times rather than bathe. I've always taken him with me into the bathroom while I shower. I've kept him occupied by talking with him, giving him little jobs, and singing songs. It's not been an issue until recently; he's gotten too big, he notices things.

So I thought today, since I was extra stinky and I could not do another "ponytail day," he might do well in another room while I showered. Peyton was asleep in her chair in the living room, Landon was watching Max and Ruby, and the shower water was running and warm. I allotted myself five minutes (a true challenge) to get all the important parts clean. However, right before I stepped in the shower, I decided to peek in on Landon. GASP! He was IN the chair with Peyton, slamming bouncing her head against the back, having just woken her up. He's simply too small to be in there; I cannot leave him alone with her. I squealed, scooped them both up and deposited them in the bathroom with me.

I stepped into the shower and he immediately pressed his little smiling face against the glass. Here's when I realized he's too big to watch Mommy shower.

"Mommy, you don't have a tinkle!" (What he calls his, well...you know.)

"Mommy, you have big boobs!" (Not really, but I am nursing so I am more, er, ample. And who taught him the word "boob" anyway?)

"Want me to help you?" (Um, NO!)

And other comments I'm just too embarassed to share. (As if the above remarks weren't bad enough.)

Do you see my quandary? Do I take him in the bathroom with me and be forced to discuss male/female anatomy, or do I leave him alone to roam the house and "fish" in the fish tank, "bathe" Keaton's pet turtle, glue papers to our counters and climb inside the refrigerator. (All activities he's done the past few days.)

I guess the only answer is to just stay with him every second of every day and not take any chances. Bathing is overrated anyway. I hear skank is "in."

Multitasking

This is not my baby but it is my life.

Things get hectic a lot around here, especially when Jimmy is on the road. Tonight I had one of those moments where I found myself wondering whose life am I leading, how did I get here, and where did all these children come from?

After we returned from Reagan's volleyball match, and in the span of ten minutes, I washed Hayden's hair as he showered, bathed Peyton while also bathing Landon (and rescuing her from his continuous attempts to rinse her shampoo-ladened hair by spitting the water on her face head), dressed them both, reviewed the match with Rea and assured her that she is a good volleyball player, discussed college recruiting with Sutton, and answered Jimmy's phone call from New York; all while signing a stack of forms for school, passing out evening snacks for the boys and giving Keaton a 25 word spelling test.

I've often said that I wished I grew another arm every time I had a baby so I could keep up with the extra demands, each arm completing a separate important mommy-task. However, I'm afraid I couldn't do any better considering my slow reduction in brain cells over the years (I have a hard enough time remembering what my two arms are supposed to do.) And besides, with eight arms flailing about, I'd just look weird.

Afternoon assignments

While I cook dinner:

Fourth grade homework is tough.













I know all the answers.













Paper + toddler scissors= three-year-old heaven. (Notice the snow boots...in September...in Texas.)

















Not sure which job is better, holding the sleeping baby sister or being the sleeping baby sister.

Still life

from the perspective of a six year old who "borrowed" Mom's camera:











Evidence of contraband M&M's (look in the mouth):








I guess he wanted to assure me he brushed afterwards:

Girl fight (with clarification)

Overheard last night as they argued while doing the dinner dishes...

Sutton (17 and grumpy, to Reagan): "You're annoying."

Reagan (12 and in no mood, to Sutton): "You're a pessimist!"

Keaton (10 and confused): "Is that a body part?"

Boy:

A noise with dirt on it. --Anonymous