Friday, January 29, 2010

Further confirmation

That I married the right man.
When I came home from work the mainbain putting up the 4 Wheeler after pulling the boys around in the snow.
The cherry on top?

A pot of homemade hot chocolate on the stove.

He's a keeper!
Lib
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A smile

I do my best to keep a journal of some of the funny things the bains say.  I troll through this from time to time for a laugh or a smile or to remember that they were little not too long ago or in an attempt to pull myself out of a seasonal funk.

One of stringbain's greatest resulted from reading Jeff Foxworthy (don't ask!) and retelling it at the breakfast table.  He thought you might be a redneck if you're named after the car you were conceived in was a great one.  Knowing he didn't have a clue (he was 10 at the time) the mainbain asked if he knew what conceived meant.  Without missing a beat, stringbain said  "Yeah, it's the car you drove to the hospital in to have the baby!"

Sweet, smiling innocence!

Lib

"Snow" Day Shambles

And it's only 9:15 am.

Another day, another story,
Em

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Basic Table Manners

Number 2 declared, "No swords at the table."

Another day, another story,
Em

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Sound of Music


"Did you know Number 3 doesn't ever participate in music?", Number 3's preschool music teacher reports.


"Uh?  No.  Uh?  What do you mean?", I stammer.  Not sure how to respond.  

Well, I did know how to respond.  Just tell her that he was probably more interested in the style of music he hears from his 10 year old brother's iPod than what they were working on at the church preschool.  Black Eyed Peas, "Pants on the Ground", School of Rock soundtrack.  You know, The Classics.  I decided to try a different approach, just listen.

"He doesn't misbehave or bother anyone.  He just doesn't participate at all."

"Well, he is going to be in kindergarten next year.  What will happen if he doesn't participate in music then?" I ask.

"He will get an F," she says simply.

A couple of kids ago, I would have at least given the situation more than a passing thought.  Now, I'm confident that everything will be just fine.

Another day, another story,
Em

Friday, January 22, 2010

This boy and his new dog



A gift from his grandparents, he named her Carl. That's not a typo...her name is CARL!


I told you he was unpredictable!
Lib

This boy




Mexicanjumpingbain's sparkly blue eyes captivated everyone, especially me, when he came out. Those eyes and that smile are responsible for getting me through some of the darkest days I've ever experienced.  No matter how bad I felt or how bleak everything seemed I knew there was reason to hope just looking at him.

There's no way to accurately describe a boy who made vacuum cleaner noises while nursing.  Even though the mastitis I contracted with him turned into an abcess, I couldn't bear to stop nursing him, and I'm not like that. 

He's mesmerized me since birth with his curiosity and fearlessness.  Every day is a new adventure for him beginning with breakfast.  As a 2 year old he would push a stool to the stove and insist on stirring whatever I was cooking.  His affair with cooking hasn't faded in the last five years...he can sit and read any food magazine for hours...carefully marking everything he wants us to make together.  

Our Fairy Godmother says he's the only one who is truly fearless.  She swears he'll grow up to be a stunt man.  He already kind of is one.  After our alternate reality trip this summer we came home to a broken freezer emitting the most repulsive smell ever.  He wasn't just willing, but giddy to crawl into the melted, green goo and bail it out.  While everyone else had handkerchiefs tied over their faces and clothes pins on their noses... he was whistling while he worked.

He has been and continues to be a lesson in joyfulness.  I can only hope he's rubbing off on me. 

Lib




Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Still grossed out...after all these years

I was talking on the wall phone.*  Because I was standing still during my conversation, I was just staring at the floor and I noticed something.  It looked just like a black bean, which I thought odd.

Why would a black bean be there, so far away from the table?

I kept on chatting, reached down and picked up the black bean.

As soon as I touched it, I knew it wasn't a black bean.  I still didn't realize what it was...I just knew it wasn't a black bean.

Perhaps a refried black bean, I thought.

I'm was chatting away as I sniffed the "bean."  

Mistake!



Realizing that the bean belonged in a toilet, the chat ended immediately as I could no longer form coherent words.


I'm sure there are some things you should never get used to.  Touching poop is sitting at the top of the list!



Still cringing, 
Lib


*Yes we still have a wall phone.  It's so convenient when the phone is ringing off the wall and no portable in sight. Try it. 

Sunday, January 17, 2010

When enough is enough

Taking a stab at one of my resolutions*organizing below the surface*this afternoon I am amazed and dismayed at how much stuff can accumulate in the bottom of one closet in a year. Okay, it might be 2 years since a serious clean out...
4 duffel bags, 1 size 3 raincoat, 6 halloween costumes, 3 pillows, 4 baseball bags with bats and helmets, 2 backpacks*wish I'd found those before I bought 2 new ones*, 1 feather comforter, 3 snow suits I wasn't aware of owning, a bag of hand-me-down t-shirts, an enormous octopus of a sleeping bag that no longer zips up, 4 pairs of Khakis, and a tent that's been used once and looked for at least 10 times.

Fairly certain this equals confirmation that this resolution is about a year late!
But, better late than never!
Lib

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Public Service Announcement

Things No One Told Us 12+ Years and Eight Sons Ago 
(before allowing us to leave the hospital with 2 day old infants)






  1. A son could break his arm playing putt-putt.
  2. You will sit in the tiny chair across from the teacher at parent-teacher conferences.
  3. A son could incur a bloody injury to his most private of parts playing basketball.
  4. You will be required to apply ice and antibiotic cream to the aforementioned son’s most private of parts.
  5. Anything can and will be used as a weapon for frequent and impromptu battles.
  6. They will be babies for a very, very short time.
  7. A son might attempt to juggle glass.  And need stitches afterwards.
  8. You will visit the pediatrician for the removal of an imbedded tick from a son’s most private of parts.
  9. Brothers will fight fierce battles, drive you and each other crazy, then zealously defend each other.
  10. You might never feel like a fully-qualified, grown-up parent.


    Friday, January 15, 2010

    Lessons for My Sons

    "One day you will also hear this from your wife 'I hate all the
    clothes in my closet',", I said to Number 1 while getting dressed to
    go to the movie with St. Joel.

    Without missing a beat, "Will I have to buy her new clothes?"

    Another day, another story,
    Em

    Wednesday, January 13, 2010

    And I quote

    "IT was longer," explained Number 3 as to why there was pee all over
    the floor and wall this morning.

    Another day, another story,
    Em

    Tuesday, January 12, 2010

    Invasion

    Just a Tuesday morning.

    Another day, another story,
    Em

    Sunday, January 10, 2010

    Dream Big

    Number 3, "When I get bigger and bigger like you, Mom, I'm gonna get a
    car that shoots lasers!"

    Another day, another story,
    Em

    Four years old: the turning point


    In an effort to change things up a bit I'm wishing Butterbain Happy Birthday 2 weeks after the fact. 
    I'm fully aware at this stage in the game that I don't have any babies left.  He made that perfectly clear on his birthday, when he told me he looked "just like the outlaw Josey Wales" in this cowboy outfit.  I've never doubted his originality, but that comment sealed it.  I'm fairly certain there aren't a lot of 4 year old's who have even heard of Clint Eastwood, much less known any of his characters so well they could "be" them.  And yes, I know Clint Eastwood films are not a number one pick for young children. It's just what happens when you're the youngest of 4 boys.

    Whether he's an outlaw or not - I know this year will be a turning point.  Four is real big boy territory.  Four is when you stop getting in bed with Mamma and Daddy in the middle of the night - at least that's historically the case in our family.  Four is when you learn to buckle yourself into your own booster seat, and go to the bathroom alone.  (No more, "MOM, I'm DONE!") Four means getting dressed to the shoes all by yourself and going to the barn alone.  There are a lot of other milestones that will be crossed this year, but as the youngest he'll still have more leeway than the rest of them.  He can still convince me to read the book one more time in an effort to stay up a bit later.  He'll be able to give me his little smirk and escape unscathed from peccadillos, and he'll con a lot out of me because of his whole-hearted hugs.
    There's a lotta up-side to being the youngest of 4 boys.
    Happy Birthday Butterbain, I'm sure this year will be your greatest yet!

    Lib








    Monday, January 4, 2010

    Sometimes

    Sometimes it's just...

    Coughing
    Copays
    Throw up
    Prescriptions
    Runny noses
    Laundry
    Diaper rash

    Another day, another story,
    Em

    Sunday, January 3, 2010

    Travelling Bains

    Thanks to friend's and parental generosity, we've gone coast to coast this year!
    Love the adventure!
    Lib

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