It's Valentine's Day!

The candy bags were assembled and the cards signed for all their classmates. But in the excitement of Cotillion day, they almost ran out the door without their goodies. Thank goodness Pawpaw was on the ball and caught the oversight.

Both have been practicing their dancing for weeks. Keaton has to dance with four boys and Hayden four girls this afternoon. As much as they have complained, each is equally thrilled the "day" has arrived.

Flexible rigidity

When I was a first-time mom, my baby went nowhere without curls and a bow. I painstakingly rolled her thick, beautiful hair every night in those little pink sponge rollers, no matter how late the night or how grumpy the mother or child. She had those curls until she was in third grade when she forbade me to come near unless it was a special occasion or I could sneak them on her as she slept (which I tried.)

Baby girl #2 came along and I bought more sponge rollers. The problem was her hair was much thinner so I adjusted my hair repertoire to include soft curls, often in a relaxed pony tail. Again, she went nowhere without the matching bow, plus I added fluffy, poofy socks to as many outfits as I could as well as bow-encrusted shoe strings. If it moved, I stuck a bow to it. I was a woman possessed.

Baby girl #3 was born while I was working full time and in graduate school full time and, believe me, I was worried about how I would have time to curl a third head of hair every night. But God blessed me with a little one with her own sweet curls, easing my mind and my workload. Matching bows morphed into matching outfits for three little ladies who looked completely adorable when we left our home.

Baby boy #1 arrived and I wasn't sure how to accessorize since my pink sponge rollers and bows were no longer appropriate. I decided to move to hats. This little one did not leave the house without an outfit complete with a matching cap. He wore them everywhere, day or night, and has only recently stopped wearing them because the school frowns on their presence. Weekends, however, are fair game.

But little boy #2 joined us with his own set of rules. He wore the caps for a while, obliging me my OCD tendencies, then moved on to other more Landon-like accessories. We've had to endure many ensemble additions like capes and robes, goggles and boots, ponytail holder bracelets and girls' panties head gear; all of which we were able to enjoy in the privacy of our own home.

However, little boy #2 has decided that no outing is to be made without his latest obsession...his bicycle helmet. You can tell that I have mellowed in my old age because I'll go with him to Chik-Fil-A or the grocery store or whereever we're headed with that darned thing on his head. In all honestly I have tried to talk him out of wearing it but Daddy comes to his rescue every time, reassuring me that all is okay and that my value as a mother is not reduced because my child is wearing a bicycle helmet in a restaurant.

So I've given up. I'll take him with the helmet, I'll even take him with the Bible Man cape or the swim goggles. I do draw the line at britches and require him to put something on his legs before we leave the house, but I am too tired and hormonal to fight for much else.

See what I mean:




















So at seven months pregnant with baby girl #4, child #6, you would think I could sit back and prepare to enjoy the prospect of freedom from the obsessive my-child-must-look-perfect mentality I have held for so long. I'm going to try...I really will...but with ten baby bows already purchased and about that many froo-frooey hats, the future is looking pretty frilly. And I couldn't be more excited.

Sometimes...

Sometimes life can seem quite unfair when you're nine, especially when your older sisters get to do all the fun things and your younger brothers can just sit there and look cute and not have any of the responsibilities you have. Sometimes a girl just has to fuss and act hateful and lash out at anyone within reach.

Sometimes the girl can be taken shopping and monopolize the entire event as Mom and sister wait on her hand and foot, trying to make her happy. But sometimes the nine year old just can't control her emotions and she makes Mom and sister regret their efforts and she goes home without.

Sometimes the nine year old thinks she can just run upstairs and pout and watch TV, but sometimes she forgets that Mom doesn't work that way and she has to make amends for several day's worth of ugly.

Sometimes the girl can apologize and promise not to act mean and hateful and that is enough, but sometimes Mom expects more and the girl has to write down all of her inappropriate actions over the past few days, detailing each event.

Sometimes the first draft isn't good enough, especially with torn edges and angrily scribbled words, so the girl has to write it again. Sometimes that draft is just as bad and she has to write it again and sometimes the third draft doesn't cut it either and the little girl is sent back to her room to complete the task as directed.

Sometimes Mom requires additional paragraphs to be added to the girl's list of offenses, including how the nine year old will react the next time she's frustrated and what her punishment(s) should be if there are future lapses in judgement, so the girl sets off to work some more on this mini novel regarding attitude adjustment.

Sometimes the girl thinks the completion of said work is sufficient penance and she is now free to watch TV, but the girl forgets that Mom has been through this twice before with older sisters so the mom tells the girl to get her pajamas on and go read until bedtime.

Sometimes the girl is devastated by such "severe" punishment.

SO sometimes the nine year old girl gets up the next morning, gets dressed without incident, happily helps brothers with morning routines, makes Mom and Dad's bed and tidies up Mom's bathroom (including putting away all the little boy toys in the bath tub) without being asked, smiling willingly and acting charming to the entire household.

And sometimes Mom sits back and watches the nine year old, knowing the little girl will succumb to her temper again and be angry at us all for her position as the poor, misunderstood middle child of the family and probably have to be reprimanded again.

But sometimes Mom knows that even though life is hard when you're nine and you're still figuring out your position in your family as well as your place in the world, that the little girl will be loved through the entire journey and cherished inexhaustively every step of the way.

Pass the duct tape please

Pawpaw, Granna, Landon and I went to Garden Ridge yesterday and had a great time buying all sorts of little things we have been needing for a while. We especially enjoyed their $1 clearance tables that held a multitude of treasures we were eager to snatch up and take home.

We separated our loot and Landon and I went through the checkout first as we had many more "necessary" items than Granna and Pawpaw. The checkout clerk was very nice and even patiently allowed our three year old helper to load the counter.

I paid our bill and Landon and I stood to the side as Granna and Pawpaw checked out with the same cashier. Evidently Landon's unobstructed view of the nice clerk sparked a surge of toddler truth serum to run through his tiny veins and out his louder-than-an-intercom mouth.

Landon: "Mommy wook!"

Mom: "What Landon?"

Landon: "She has a weally, weally, WEALLY, big hiney!"

Mom (half asleep, I assume, and dumb enough to ask him to repeat his already thunderously shameless comment): "What did you just say?!"

Landon (pointing excitedly towards our sweet cashier's unusually large fanny): "Wook! See? She has a weally, WEALLY, WEALLY big hiney!"

I turned on a dime, my little tactless toddler in tow, and whispered vehemently my latest sermon on political correctness and the importance of not hurting someone's feelings as we marched as fast as I could carry him to our vehicle.

Landon just smiled at me as I placed him in his car seat, obviously too young to grasp my sentiments, but still in awe, I could tell, of the bodacious bottom he had just discovered.

Happiness is...

Scoring a "1" on your solo performance at last night's competition.

















Braids done just the way you ordered them.

















The first day you tie your shoes all by yourself.

















Breakfast sandwiched between Granna and Pawpaw.

Granna and the naked cowboy

Landon, as usual, dressed himself in his favorite outfit this morning. Paw paw mentioned that "real" cowboys wear pants, but I guess Landon prefers a less restrictive ensemble.

















Granna was able to sneak a hug from our chilly little westerner before he returned to the range.

Over-exertion

I guess Jimmy felt he should at least try my treadmill. I've had it and used to for about 5 years and the only times he's gotten near it is to hang his clothes on the handles.

I had to teach him what each button did and he actually started it up! The girls came running in from the kitchen in disbelief.

















It was slow enough for Hayden to join.

















It was even slow enough for Landon to join.

















When all was said and done those boys had burned off a whole 2.6 calories.













Gosh, I hope they're not too sore this morning.

Going over to the dark side

Oldest daughter decided to dye her own hair Sunday afternoon while everyone else was resting.

How I wish she still took naps.

I'm easily amused

My sister-in-law Paula sent me these yesterday and Jimmy and I got a real kick out of them. I especially like the Chunky Dunk.
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I borrowed (okay, stole) the last one from Cindy's blog. I taught high school English for many years and can't tell you how many of my students could have been responsible for that.

Love in the morning

I got up early today with Hayden so Jimmy, who got in last night from a large event, could sleep a little longer with Landon.

After settling in to the big chair with our blanket, Hayden and I watched one kids' show after another. He slowly began to lean on my belly, eventually pressing his entire torso against mine. Baby sister didn't much care for the cramped position she found herself in so she rebelled, pushing and kicking against Hayden, trying to move him away, much to his delight. They continued the "push-pull" for several minutes as Hayden giggled at each little (and big!) kick he endured.

Hayden: "Mom, she's really moving in there, isn't she? I think she's talking to me."

Mom: "Really? What do you think she's saying?"

Hayden: "She's saying 'Hayden, I'm gonna love you for ever and ever.'"

Mom: "Yep, I bet that's exactly what she's saying."

And I know she will.

Cheeky Chippendale

We've teased for months as we speculated about Landon's future occupational plans. Doctor Landon, the physician, may have to give way to "Doctor Landon" the exotic dancer.

I'm open to many things, but I will have to talk with him about his choice of poses...the "Ta Da" stance is getting old.

Lame, oh so lame

Jimmy left on a short trip this morning which meant everyone had unforeseen, uncontrollable problems that just couldn't be handled by a mere mortal mother.

The most pathetic excuse for a meltdown was Hayden's. After I called for him many times to get dressed and after he just couldn't pull himself away from the cartoon he was watching, I finally turned the TV off, knowing the "idiot box" as Jimmy calls it, was too much of a distraction this time of morning.

Hayden bellowed like never before, crying out in excruciating pain.

Mom: "What is wrong with you?"

Hayden: "It's my foot. It's hurting soooooo bad."

Mom: "Your foot? What happened to your foot in the last two seconds I have been standing here with you?"

Hayden (the crocodile tears flowing freely): "The TV did it! The sounds just came out of it and all jumped in my foot and I can't walk or get dressed because it huuuuurts!"

I'll give him a B- for creativity but that's the best I can do.

Repeated throughout the day

Step 1: It starts out as innocent acrobatics with Daddy.

















Step 2: Flipping over is next.

















Step 3: Tickling soon follows.

















Step 4: My turn to attack!

















Step 5: Wait! Chapstick break.













Step 6: Want some Daddy?













Step 7: Okay, break over!












Step 8: Resume attack! (until both are exhausted)

















Step 9: (And this mother's personal favorite) Take nap with Mommy.

Show girls

Reagan is preparing for her solo and ensemble choir competition next week. Her choir director set up a recital for all students participating to have a chance to practice one last time. While our boys had a hard time sitting still and enjoying the music, the rest of us where so impressed with Reagan. It's obvious how hard she has been working. Next we have to convince her to smile while she's performing because we sure were.



Keaton is doing a book report for her class. Part of the assignment is to create a poster describing some aspect of the book while another part is to dress as one of the characters. Keaton chose the teacher. She is happy with every facet of her dress except the shoulder pads. She commented, "Mom! I look like a football player with these big things on my shoulders!" Guess it's time to clean out my closets and my 80's clothes.

Growing up

Keaton reported to us that Sunday night during a church-sponsored skate party she and Reagan attended, Reagan was so nice to her "the whole time." GASP! I thanked Reagan.

She continued by stating that not only had Reagan been nice but Reagan's friend had been very sweet and both girls allowed Keaton, who didn't really know anyone, to stay with them throughout the party, even going so far as to check on her if she fell. DOUBLE GASP! I complimented Reagan's thoughtfulness.

Add to all of that (there's more?) the note we received from Reagan's math teacher who, after listening to her phone conversation with me yesterday informing me of a change in pick up plans, complimented our little lady on her respectfulness towards her mother. This teacher stated how refreshing it was to have a student with such nice, consistent manners, not only towards her, but to a parent when Reagan thought no one was listening. Hmmmmmmmm.

And then last night (you've gotta be kidding!) Reagan volunteered to help her little sister on a project Keaton was struggling with, offering to pen the lettering on a poster board and draw a few characters. I got misty-eyed.

Could it be that after nine years of barely tolerating her younger sister, Reagan has decided to have moments of kindness towards her? Well...maybe. I've been a mom long enough to know that these glimpses of loving behavior can be sparse and fleeting. Yet I also recognize subtle signs of approaching maturity in our almost twelve year old. She's growing up. She's calm in the face of little brother melt-downs and the first to volunteer her assistance whenever someone is in need. It's becoming increasingly evident what a kind and generous spirit this little body contains.

Keep up the good work, sweet girl.

Our niece Dayden

at six months.

Little men

We couldn't resist a before-church photo op. The girls hid so as not to be included. Hayden and Landon mugged proudly for the camera, eager to show off their ties.

Let class begin

Granna and Pawpaw have come to visit us. Granna has 30+ years of teacher/principal experience with elementary kids so when she comes, every activity has an objective, a lesson, and an assessment. Our kids all learn so much.

Landon here is learning his letters and sounds. Today he learned "P" is for pig, "L" is for Landon and trees are green. We're constantly trying to talk Granna and Pawpaw into moving here with us. Jimmy said we'd get a bigger house with their own private area and I've promise to cook every night (well, most nights.) Hopefully, we'll wear them down soon and get them to agree. We love having them.

Train table tear-down

Landon got a train table for his birthday a couple of months ago. Because of Christmas and traveling we didn't get around to putting it together. Jimmy decided to not only put it together, but to glue the pieces down that are supposed to stay put. That way the boys could focus on the movable parts (train, airplane, cars, etc.) and leave the train track, airport and other buildings alone.

Night before last after everyone else was asleep, Daddy spent hours placing and gluing each piece in the perfect position with special wood glue guaranteed to hold anything.

Obviously the glue company has never come up against our boys, as each piece Daddy so carefully placed has been pummelled and detached (glue, paint and all) and moved to various parts of my living room.

You'd think we would have seen that coming.