Happy Father's Day (while it is still June)

To illustrate what kind of father my husband is, I thought I would review my children's reaction to him:

Baseball season ended last Saturday. The Mighty Braves took 3rd Place in the regular season and 2nd Place in the Tournament. Because of the babies, I haven't been able to attend many games. Thankfully, my mom came over Saturday morning so I could watch the Championship Game.

The last few years, we have played T-Ball at Gene Fulmer. T-Ball is hilarious! The parents can run the bases with their kids. No matter how far you hit it, you run to first base and stop. The inning ends when everyone has a chance to hit, and the last batter runs around the bases regardless of how the ball is played. When someone hits the ball, everyone in the field runs to the ball and pounces on top of it. This often resembles tackle football. My personal favorite: When time is up, the game is over. It doesn't matter if you are in the middle of an inning - the game stops. Hilarious!

This year, we decided to sign him up for the Pony League. His age-group was still machine-pitch. (Personally, I think it should be machine-pitch until they are about eleven.) These players are SERIOUS! Some of them have been playing in this league since they were three years old, and are very, very good ball players. Austin was the Most-Improved Player this season (how is that for sounding like the diplomatic mother that I am). Poor kid couldn't hit the ball to save his life when the season started, and he spent most of the time pulling the grass in right field. Thanks to excellent, patient coaches, and a couple of trips to the batting cages, by the middle of the season, he was hitting the ball (infield and getting out at first base - but hitting it). Near the end of the season, he actually got on base a couple of times. Then, last week, he not only got on base, but scored for the first time.

Several parents told me of the look on his face when he stepped on home plate for the first time. His eyes widened in excited surprise and they started scanning the stands for one person - his dad. Greg was found cheering uncontrollably as they shared this moment of sheer bliss. He did it! And he shared this moment with the most important person in his life - his dad!

That night, we also attended another event - Macy's dance performance. I stayed in the Green Room with her until the show started (applying last minute make-up which she loved), so Greg got us a seat. We were on the side of the auditorium on the second row. By the time I got there, Greg had the video camera set up and ready to go. Since we were on the side, we could see the dancers get ready in the wings.

A couple of songs before her performance, we saw Macy and her class standing on the side, waiting their turn. Oblivious to her audience, we laughed as Macy watched the other dancers and shook her cute, little booty in time with the music. A few minutes before her number, she caught sight of us and waved with such enthusiasm. I saw her tap her friend on the shoulder, point to us, and say, "That's my daddy." Halfway through the performance, she stopped completely for a few beats to give her daddy another wave. Her eyes light up when she sees him.

The other kids adore him just as much. Paige speeds to the door when she hears it open. Daddy, daddy! And he is so involved with the twins. He is up at night with feedings, gives them baths, and changes diapers like a pro. He plays with the kids, makes them giggle (and laughs along with them), has fun traditions at bedtime, and is so snuggly with all of them. I learn so much from watching him.

We love you!

Survival of the Fittest

I was born first.

14 months later, God gave me Lisa. I don't remember life without her, and I can't imagine life without her. We balance each other out.

Three years later, Alexie arrived with a head full of wild black hair. She was our little papoose. She also arrived with more talent in her little finger than most of us have in our whole bodies, and God somehow gave her the energy to accomplish whatever she imagined in her amazing brain. A few years later, God gave her Gavin. Alexie needs someone to take care of, and Gavin came into this world needing someone to take care of him (it was a rough first few years for him). Gavin came with a relaxed soul who lives life on his own timetable. They have a special, unique bond. They balance each other out.

Five years later, God blessed this world with Madeline. Maddie wasn't just the icing on the cake, she was the chocolate syrup, whipping cream, colorful sprinkles, and a bright, red cherry on top. She was so much fun! She still is. It was as if she was given to all of us to say, "Don't take everything so seriously. Smile. Laugh. Have some fun." (She often accomplishes this by speaking in indistinguishable dialects.) We all adore her!

Lisa is my opposite. She is everything that I am not:

I like to be out and about; Lisa is a homebody.

I am a worry wart; Lisa is relaxed.

I analyze everything to the death; Lisa quietly observes.

I have anxiety; Lisa lets things roll off her back.

I love talking to people; Lisa doesn't even like ordering pizza over the phone.

I don't like to let my guard down; Lisa loves to be the goofball.

I like vanilla-based ice cream products; Lisa prefers chocolate-based.

I am not a napper; Lisa lives for naps - Naps with big, fluffy blankets and perfect pillows.

My dad loves to tell the story about when we were babies and sharing a room in our small house in Hunter. He said that he would lie in my bed with me until I fell asleep at night, and inevitably Lisa would be standing up in her crib, holding onto the bar with her eyes poking over the top. Not crying. Not begging to get out. Just standing there. Awake. Observing. Always observing. I always went to bed easily, but wasn't great at napping. Lisa was an excellent napper, but preferred to stay up at night. (Isn't it funny how our habits are established at such an early age?)

Well, Darwin may have been right, because I've found that with two little babies, I need to evolve in order to survive. For the first time in my life, I have officially become a napper.

I'm very good at it. Whenever I have 20 minutes, I'll sit in the recliner with a baby or two on my chest and I can fall asleep in a matter of seconds. Other times, I can easily turn my brood over to my amazing friends that come over to help in shifts, and I can be out before my head even hits the pillow. The time of day is irrelevant. I can sleep whenever, wherever. In a way, I'm very excited about this evolution. I'm becoming more like my sister.

I'm just amazed at how imperceptible personal evolution can happen. We adjust because we have to. My babies cry at 2:30 in the morning because they need food, and I have no choice but to get up and help them. Then we do it all again a few hours later and a few hours after that. Therefore, I learn how to function on less sleep and how to catch up on my sleep throughout the day.

Somebody asked me the other day if it has been as bad as I anticipated. Anticipation is an interesting thing. For all my worry and concern, I didn't take into account how much I would like Spencer and Kade. I really do like them. I like the feel of a head resting on my shoulder. I like the cooing and purring as they are falling asleep. I laugh at all the grunting while they sleep. I like the way they grasp my finger with their little hands while they eat or when they need comfort. I even like the way that Kade slurps his bottle. I like them. Everything else that comes with having an incredibly dependent infant (or two) is totally worth it and not that big of a deal.

I like all my kids. Not a day passes that each one of them doesn't bring a smile to my face. That smile is usually accompanied by a laugh. As my sister says, "It's a good thing your kids are so funny." And they are!

Alexie and I watched Austin play dog with Abby for a half an hour last night. He chased the ball she threw, sat, rolled over, barked, etc. His reactions to her demands made her giggle and clap. It was adorable!

When Lisa brought Cash over, Macy let her know that she wasn't going to make fun of him. When asked why she would make fun of him, she said that it was because of his name. We asked her again, and she said that Cash means something else, and it isn't really a name. We asked her what it meant, and she said, "It's really a food." What?!? And her new adjective is "romantic." Everything is romantic. A lady at Greg's work gave him a glass butterfly (pronounced "bufferfly" if you are Paige) and Macy put it on the fridge, stood back, and said adoringly, "Isn't it romantic?" When I asked her what romantic means, she said, "Very beautiful." Hilarious!

Paige. Miss Paige and Dora the Explorer. Paige has been terrified of the lady that comes to clean. Laura is very nice, but whenever Paige sees her, she bursts into tears. Laura's second language is English, and she so sweetly calls me "Lady." So Paige says, "I no like Lady." I've tried explaining that Laura is very nice, but she wouldn't listen. So, the other day, Laura was cleaning Jen's house while Paige was playing with Taelyn. Apparently, Paige worked up her courage, walked up to Laura and said, "Hola" over and over again. I guess the term "Politically Correct" doesn't mean much to a two-year-old.

I like them. I really do. I feel so blessed to have a house full of these little people that make me smile. I am surviving, and even surviving happily (most of the time). As for Darwin...Well, I think Milton Berle said it perfectly: "If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?"

Once again, photos courtesy of this talented lady.  (Check out her latest wedding.  Incredible!)

Parenting Insight from the NBA Playoffs

As many of you know if you read my blog, I struggle immensely with being a mother to a little boy. I love him so very much that I can hardly think about it without tearing up, and yet his behavior causes me so much stress and anxiety. I am constantly debating (in my head) whether or not there is something "wrong" with him or if he is just a boy. I've never really been around boys. I have one brother, but out of the five of us, he is probably the most passive. Plus, he was quite a bit younger than me that I wasn't really aware of his behavior. I was well into my egocentric teenage years when he was growing up, so I just didn't notice.

My sweet Austin has so many incredible traits. He is such a thinker - always analyzing and observing. He genuinely cares about people and really loves being around them. He is very loving and is the first one to give hugs and kisses. He is very helpful and capable. It doesn't matter what task I give him, he masters it almost immediately. He has the most amazing energy, and he is happy. He seems to be very sensitive to the Spirit and other people's tender feelings.

For all these outstanding traits, he has some serious issues with impulse control, focus, and controlling his emotions. The other day was Field Day at school. I was torn: what a fun, fun day and yet I knew he was walking into a situation that is very difficult for him - about 400 kids outside at once. When he gets around too many people, his energy level skyrockets and he seems to lose all concept of common sense. He gets loud and just plain crazy. After a half hour, he was in the office because another boy stepped on his bare toes (he had sandals on which exposed his toes) so Austin hit the kid. It just seems (emphasis on seems) like he is always in trouble - much more than other kids. I cringe when the phone rings and the school's name appears on the caller ID. Honestly, it feels like this kids is in trouble ALL THE TIME - at home, at church, and at school. I feel bad for him, and yet it infuriates me at the same time. He knows the right thing to do, why can't he just do it already?!?

Then, I was watching the NBA playoffs and had an epiphany. We were watching Game 4 and hoping that the Orlando Magic would pull off a win to tie the series. Greg cheers for anyone who plays against the Lakers, and I just love rooting for the underdog. Going into the game, the Magic were down 2-1. For the second time in this series, Orlando could have...should have...won the game in regulation play. They made some errors - offensively and defensively - and the Lakers forced it into overtime. The Magic fought a good fight, and with just over a minute to go, they were tied. Then, the Lakers talent and skills kicked in. After a couple of stolen balls and three pointers, it was obvious that the Lakers had this game won. With only a few seconds to go, and absolutely no hope of Orlando winning, Gasol (the Laker's Center) was attempting his second straight dunk when Pietrus, on Orlando, smacked him on the back with both fists. He was charged with a flagrant foul. Gasol responded in anger which earned him a technical foul.

I thought about this exchange. Here are two professional basketball players in the playoffs - arguably a couple of the best players in the world. Out of sheer frustration, one of the players (a successful adult) loses his temper and "hits" another player. Angry from the attack, the other player (another successful adult) throws a temper tantrum and yells and threatens. Given the situation, it is understandable that these two grown men reacted in this way. Why then, can't I understand it when my seven-year-old reacts in this way? He has not had the experience of an adult, and yet why do I expect perfection out of him? Why can't I remember that I don't always act correctly when I get frustrated, overwhelmed, or hurt? Why can't I just take a deep breath and treat it as a teaching moment instead of doom him and label him? Why can't the school system adapt to help kids like this? Why can't I suspend my anger and disappointment when administering consequences? Why can't I just slap him with a hefty fine and possible suspension so that he can learn his lesson?

I believe that I should have expectations for my children, but I need to consider the circumstances and administer consequences that will help him learn. I really don't want my kids to be robots. I want them to have their own personalities and exemplify their strengths and learn from their weaknesses. I'm glad that they have so much personality. I just need to remember this when my kids are in trouble. And I need to focus more on the positive because there really is so much good in him!

If My Daughters Wrote the National Spelling Bee

pip pops

- noun

1. a shoe consisting of a sole of leather or other material fastened to the foot by thongs or straps.

"Mommy, are my pip pops on the wrong feet?"

eflints

- noun

1. either of two large, five-toed pachyderms of the family Elephantidae, characterized by a long, prehensile trunk formed of the nose and upper lip, with enormous flapping ears, two fingerlike projections at the end of the trunk, and ivory tusks.

"Mommy, I want to go to the zoo to see the eflints."

plano

- noun

1. a musical instrument in which felt-covered hammers, operated from a keyboard, strike the metal strings.

"I going to play the plano."

teats

- noun

1. entertainment, food, drink, etc. given by way of compliment or as an expression of friendly regard.

"Mommy, can I have a teat?  I eat all my dinner."

swum soups

- noun

1. a garment worn for swimming.

"No!  I no wear shirt.  I want to wear my swum soups!"

mitch match

- verb

1. to confuse completely, esp. to mistake one person or thing for another.

"I'm going to mitch match my dance shoes: one pink and one black."

chocut

- noun

1. a preparation of the seeds of cacao, roasted, husked, and ground, often sweetened and flavored, as with vanilla.

"I love chocut!"

moyee

- adjective

1. in greater quantity, amount, measure, degree, or number.

"May I pease have moyee chocut milk?"

bambaid

- noun

1. a brand of adhesive bandage with a gauze pad in the center, used to cover minor abrasions and cuts.

"I love my Dora bambaid."

soos (or sues)

- noun

1. an external covering for the human foot, usually of leather and consisting of a more or less stiff or heavy sole and a lighter upper part ending a short distance above, at, or below the ankle.

"I put my soos on all by myself."

adore

- verb

1. to regard with the utmost esteem, love, and respect; honor.

2. to pay divine honor to; worship.

3. to like or admire very much.

"I simply adore my two sweet girlies and their endless chatter."

My Hispanic Daughter

I think that there may have been a mix-up in heaven.  Perhaps Paige was meant to be born to a family (or in a country) where the native language is Spanish.  I have taken enough Spanish classes to know that you put the adjective after the noun (and few enough Spanish classes to actually speak the language.  Although my very sweet, wonderful Visiting Teachers bring me the message every month in Spanish.  I tried to explain that I don't speak the language.  Maybe they are trying to teach me.)

I digress...Paige speaks this way.  It cracks me up!  For example:

"Mommy, I want the cup, red."

"I like my dress, pretty."

I love it so much, and it makes me laugh every time, that I don't correct her.  There really are so many things I love about two-year-olds!

Ask Anne (Taintor)

Allow me to explain:

FIRST: HORMONES

I don't think it matters how many children I have, I am never quite prepared for the mood swings and water works that accompany childbirth. I can cry at anything, and I generally do: commercials, pictures, songs, other people, the past, the present, the future, holding a baby, prayers, a kiss, my children's honesty, any member of my extended family, food, generosity, home videos, some of the dancers on "So You Think You Can Dance," and even just thinking about crying can turn on the tear ducts. It really is quite pathetic. Sometimes, I am shedding tears of extreme love and overwhelming gratitude, and other times, my salty explosion comes from frustration, exhaustion, pain, or disappointment in myself. There really is no rhyme or reason. It's enough to make me pull my hair out. (Wait a minute - That is already happening on its own. Just another side effect of hormone imbalance.)

The day we brought the boys home from the hospital, I nearly had my first breakdown. There were quite a few people in the house (all my kids, some friends, some neighbor girls, Greg's sisters and mom), the TV was on, it was dinner time, and it was time for me to pump. (Please note: I loved having everyone home and eager to see the babies, and nobody was really doing anything to bother me. The kids weren't fighting or anything, and the neighbor girls were trying to help Paige. It was just the sheer volume of people in the house and the noise level that accompanies bodies.) I could not find the motors to my breast pump, and the longer it took to find them, the more I felt like my chest was going to burst open - literally. Greg and my mother-in-law were helping me search, so nobody was getting dinner for the kids. I could feel myself starting to lose it. It began in my toes, gradually passed by my heart which started beating faster with anxiety, landed in my shoulders which tensed up immediately, and as it grew closer and closer to my eyes, I knew a complete breakdown was near.

I was carrying Kade around with me because he was awake and squirming. I went into my closet, locked the door, and pleaded with the Lord to help me find the pump so I wouldn't fall apart. I felt a little foolish because it seemed so trivial, and yet it felt like the world would crumble if I didn't find those motors soon. I came out, turned off the TV, sent everyone home, and after a couple of minutes, I remembered that I had actually put the motors away (in a cupboard with the baby bottles). I feel like a little kid writing an entry in "The Friend," but I know that the Lord answers prayers.

SECOND: MY CHILDREN AND THE SOUND BARRIER

One of the reasons that I absolutely love having babies in my home is that I am a wonderful mother to newborns. Actually, I'll shout my praises until my children are between the ages of two and three. And then, I lose all my natural abilities. One of the things that I most admire in my husband is that he truly enjoys our children. He plays with them, jokes around with them, and has a natural ability to connect with them. I don't know how he does it. The nurturing and care taking side of motherhood comes natural to me, but the playful, fun mom takes an immense amount of effort. I feel like all I do is nag all day long. All I do is tell them what to do and what not to do. The only word that seems to come out of my mouth is "No!" Wait a minute, I also frequently repeat the words, "Stop it," "Don't argue with me," and "Go to your room." I can't seem to relax and just enjoy being with them. Things need to get done, and it seems to take an eternity for them to accomplish anything. And they are so incredibly LOUD. The noise level in our house seems to have risen exponentially and it seems to go directly to the core of my bones. I cannot take it!

When they are sleeping or at school, I spend most of the time lamenting my horrible impatience and vowing to be a happy, kind, fun mother. But then they wake up or come home from school, and they just grate on my nerves. My friend, Mindi, wrote a post a couple of weeks ago debating whether she is mothering or simply caretaking. It was beautifully written, and has made me realize that I need to make some changes. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I have to find a way to fix this situation and soon!

THIRD: PERSONAL HYGIENE IS OVERRATED

My babies are one month old, it is probably time to shower regularly, fix my hair, put on a little makeup, and wear actual clothes instead of pajama bottoms and my green bathrobe. What do you think?

FOURTH: ACCEPTING HELP

My friends in the neighborhood have been so wonderful to take shifts to come over to my house to help me. My parents are constantly looking for ways to help, and my brother and sisters have all been so selfless to pitch in and help. I am so very grateful, and yet I am not very good at accepting the help. I don't want people to feel like they are wasting their time, and yet we are just living at a different pace right now - an incredibly SLOW pace. I can't really control when the babies need to eat or when I have a bad night and need a nap. Let's face it - I am no good at asking for help and feel guilty because I know other people have it so much worse. I feel like I should be able to take care of my family. I've mentioned it before, but guilt pretty much rules my life. It is a constant battle between overwhelming gratitude for these incredible people and my own guilt/expectations.

FINALLY: I'M BEING A LITTLE DRAMATIC

Things really aren't as bad as I'm making them out to be. Overall, I actually think that the past month has gone well (better than I expected at least). I feel very content and happy and blessed a large majority of the time. These things that I've mentioned are just constantly nagging at me. I needed to get them off my chest, write them down, and start working on changing them.

Just to prove that I still have a sense of humor, these two just plain make me laugh out loud: