A Legit Update, For Once

I meant to post this a while ago, and it will be a repeat for those who got the family email I sent out. It is a bit of an update on the funny and endearing things the kids have been saying. Also, a few of our first experimental photos with our new camera! When I say "our" photos, I must admit that these are all James. I love artistic expression, and it has been a bitter pill for me to swallow time and time again that I am not an exceptionally gifted artist. I have tried my hand just a little at photography, and I always always always get bad shots of everyone. Even if I take 10 shots in a row. I just don't have a natural knack for it. James, the left-brained, logical, unemotional, practical constitutional attorney, is a much much better natural photographer than I am. :-( But, that means there is still a chance of us having lots of great family pictures. :-) He is excited to get light room when we can afford it. As it is, the following are just straight out of the camera. Here are the pictures.

The first time James tried out the camera it was just at the neighborhood pool, and he got a few fun shots.



Then we played around with the camera a little bit on a little family walk/hike just up on the red hill. The skies were really neat that day, and the weather was perfect.






This one kind of looks like a commercial for Tom's shoes (maybe if they weren't so dirty):



I can't believe how old and cute our kids look!


Josh made an awesome clown for Halloween. Too bad you don't get the full body shot because I made him some sweet clown pants.

And here is the email I sent. If you already got the email, it will be a repeat from here on out.

Josh and Isaac are both really in a development phase. Their personalities are maturing and deepening. Isaac can pretty much speak fluidly now, in sentences and questions. I have tried to teach him the gospel more as he matures. This is sometimes rewarding and sometimes not. Here is an example of not: during the sacrament on Sunday I asked him, "what are you thinking about right now during the sacrament?" to which he responded "um.... poop." I tried not to laugh as I explained that the sacrament was a time to think about Jesus, who died for us so that we could live with Heavenly Father after we die. A few days after this discussion--or one like it--Isaac was in his car seat in the van, and asked me, "Why Jesus died?" (he still uses the wrong tense) I thought this was a deep and profound question for a 2 year old, and was preparing to give a response that was probably way more than he meant to receive, when he guessed, "did he eat too much bread at chooch (church)?" Why does he always make it hard not to laugh when we are talking about sacred things!? I gave a simple explanation of how Jesus said he wanted to be punished for our mistakes so that we wouldn't have to be punished if we would repent, and that's why he died. Isaac knit his brows and asked with feeling, "Why??" (This may seem like he understands gospel principles very deeply for a 2-year-old, but just to put it in perspective, he asks "why?" with the same tone, facial expression, and passion when I tell him things like, "I'm going to get on the computer for a minute," or, "you can't have Joshie's toy without asking," or, "please put away your slippers.") He makes me laugh so many times every day. James said this morning, "I wish I could just take Beets with me to work in my pocket and pull him out when I get bored." He is very entertaining. Yesterday he asked me to sing "the conker song." I thought I must have misunderstood, and he just kept saying "the conker song!!" Josh said, "He means, praise to the man." Ohhhhhh, the CONQUER song!!!! "....death shall not conquer the hero again!" He and Josh love playing and wrestling together, and I often have the instinct to separate them when it gets rough, only to see that they are both laughing hysterically as they jump on each other and smother each other. Then I just let it keep going until I hear the tears... they must think it's worth it because they usually keep going afterward.

Josh has also been hilarious lately, and is developing a very unique and contagious sense of humor. Our routine every day is that Beth goes to school leaving at 7:40 a.m. I spend the morning with the boys, and we usually have an early lunch so that we can begin quiet time around noon. I put Isaac down in his room, and then I go lay down in my room with Josh and we read stories and then take a nap. We have to leave here at 2:30 to go get Beth (and the Jensen boys) from school. I have really enjoyed that time I get to spend with Josh one-on-one every day when we read together. Yesterday when I came into my room with the stories, he pensively remarked, "It feels like an English afternoon." I burst out laughing and said, "what?!" to which he matter-of-factly repeated with a buried smirk, "It feels like an English afternoon." Then we both burst out laughing. (It happened to be cloudy outside... still... I'm not sure what an English afternoon is.) This past Sunday morning we were all eating breakfast (oatmeal), and Beth had one of her infrequent emotional episodes where she moped about what we were eating and wouldn't eat it. Her mood had dampened the general morale, and we were all quietly eating while she whined, when Josh burst forth grandly with, "todaaaaaaay, is a HAPPY day!" He held his arms out fully extended with palms up on both sides of him as he said it, and he sounded like an orator starting a speech. We all burst out laughing, even Beth, which dispelled the gloom and cheered us all up.

At the local library we have a little fountain where you can toss a penny in if you so desire. We have made it part of our library tradition to toss in a penny if we have time, and if behavior has been good at the library. Usually it is just the boys and me at the library, but on this particular occasion Beth was there too, and it was the 4 of us. Isaac recklessly threw his penny in without a second thought. Beth carefully tossed hers in and said, "I wish..... that I had WINGS!" Then Josh thought for a minute, carefully tossed in his own penny and said, "I wish..... that Beth had a headlamp!" (Josh has his own head lamp, which has been the envy of his siblings on occasion) I thought it was so sweet that he sacrificed his wish for his sister's happiness. On the way home Beth said shyly, "I hope my wish comes true!" Then Josh said, "I hope mine does too, then you'll be able to see in the dark while you're flying!" :) Our children are such a delight to us.

I hope you have a great week, and that you have at least one English afternoon.

Please only read this if you like anger.

This is a vent post.

I'm kind of surprised I still pretty much have it together right now. Today I (voluntarily) have the Jensen's 3 boys, in addition to my own 3. Things have gone reasonably well, considering. But 5 of them have gone with no naps, and I think I have heard someone burst into screaming tears of rage somewhere between 30 and 40 times today (probably 20 to 30 of those times were my kids).

This morning I ran to the store while I only had 3 with me, just before we went to pick up the other 3 from school. Right when we got in the store, the 3 boys started fighting over the 2 spots in the car grocery cart. I got that under control, and Josh and Brig (the 2 boys who are over 40 pounds, of course), agreed to sit in the double baby section in the front of the cart right by me. Have you ever lifted a portly 4 and a half year old above your head? It's not easy. [someone just burst into tears.... and, consoled.] I had Josh jump to help me heft the bulk up there. Then I put my hands under Brig's armpits expecting him to jump, but he didn't. So I said, "jump." In my experience, most kids bend their knees in preparation for a jump. Not this kid, bless his heart. He just blasts off like a rocket. So I took a bludgeon to the bottom of the chin, and saw some stars. I think a few people had gathered to watch the circus by this point, and heard me say, "DAMMIT," without restraint. I was beyond holding it under my breath. I think I have uttered that phrase about 10 times today. Of course, the requests, fighting, crying, and questions are no respecters of pain, so I was still fielding questions and consoling fighting children while I was holding back my own tears. (keep in mind that this whole time I am in a crazy hurry to pick up the kids from school on time, so that I don't have to have 6 kids with me at the store.) Still seeing stars, I captain the vessel they have the audacity to call a shopping cart around the corner, and we get about 10 feet before our cab driver, Isaac, starts freaking out. I checked in with him to find him shrinking to a corner of the cab and pointing to a huge rat's nest of hair, suspended in static electricity, where his feet should go. I managed to procure one of those papers that you grab a donut with, and just closed my eyes and reached in there, aiming for the bulk of the hair. At this point I am dry heaving, and can barely see through my tears. As luck would have it, the nearest garbage can was a thousand miles away, in the corner of the produce section. So on our way over there, hairball paper in tow, it sounds like someone is calling my name from behind me. I ignore it. Move on. I don't really care who it was. And I guess when you look like you are pushing a primary-colored clown car with little midget clowns laughing hysterically, shoving each other, getting in and out/on and off of the cart, and occasionally screaming, people either roll their eyes, or they like to smile and connect with me, sharing a bonding moment to communicate, hey, you're doing a good thing. Usually I appreciate this support, but I tell you, I almost wrung the employee's neck who cheerfully greeted the children and myself at this point in time. I was seeing red. This is a bad way to start off a shopping trip. Fortunately, it got better from there, and by the end I was congratulating myself for keeping my head above the water of rage.

Another time I uttered the aforementioned phrase was this morning when I was trying to fill up our little soap dispenser in the kitchen, that attaches under the sink. I spilled about a quarter cup of Dawn into the sink (I HATE waste, and I always take special care to use ONLY the amount of dish soap that I need), and had 2 boys right there asking me to explain in detail why I was upset. Then I about keeled over reaching an arm's length under the sink and trying to push up hard enough, while twisting, to get the thing to screw on, and failing repeatedly, with the cupboard digging into my neck and shoulder, and at least one child leaning on me. It was after I finally succeeded, and I was finally washing the dishes (at 10:00 a.m., still in my bath robe), with the wide, furry sleeves of my bath robe getting wet in the dish water, that I snapped. I ripped off that ridiculous bath robe, rolled it up in a ball, and threw it on the ground. I also had an audience for that, and they calmly asked me to explain my behavior.

Then I got to briefly visit with Suzy's lovely mother and her husband, whom I was meeting for the first time.... in my brown furry bath robe with my hair slicked into a bobby pin. Perfect.

Anyway, usually it's pretty hard for me to recover from a day that starts out that way. I think it is helping that I am just taking a few minutes to get it out of me and into a blog post. But I am pretty happy that I am not storming out of the house in a fit of rage right now.

But as it is I have 3 ornery children asking for dinner. So, over and out.