Advice:

Never skip church to stay home alone and sneak the last quarter of the lemon meringue pie before the kids get home. Karma will bite you in the butt.

Thanksgiving Traditions

Somewhat unexpectedly the kids are going to be with me on Thanksgiving. Since I a.) don't have it in me to do the big dinner thing this year, and b.) want to make the most of a whole, entire day at home with my kids, I told the kids that this year for Thanksgiving we'd start a new tradition called "You-can-each-choose-one-thing-to-make-for-Thanksgiving-dinner-and-Mommy-will-help-you-make-it-all-by-yourself."

Mommy didn't think this one out very well. Here is our Thanksgiving Day Menu:

Mac & Cheese (Grace)
Ramen Noodles (Mia)
Hot Chocolate (Mercie)
Doughnuts (Eric)

I tried to steer them toward more traditional choices, but I was reminded that I'd said they could choose. Okay-dokey.

If anyone needs more starchy carbs to round out Thanksgiving Day feasting, apparently you can just stop by our house.

Creativity, Or Something Like That

My talented friend Shanna manages three high-energy children, runs a busy house, works as a NICU nurse, writes a hilariously funny blog, and manages to make time to create darling Christmas mini-quilts for her friends--such as the sweet little Santa I discovered yesterday in my mailbox. She's a source of never-ending inspiration.

Me, I make spherical cows to keep my hands busy during General Conference. That there Bessie's a cute 'un, if I do say so myself.

A Different Kind of Top Ten

Here's the deal--I LOVE my kids.

I mean, I adore them, I treasure them, I went through h-e-double-hockey-sticks and back to get them, I schedule and prioritize nearly everything else in my life around them, and in every single, conceivable way, they are the center of my universe.

And I've noticed, over years of connecting and bonding with other parents-via-adoption, or women who have struggled with infertility, that we perhaps value our parenting experience a tad more at times, because 1.) it didn't come easily (or quickly), and 2.) we're sensitive to those who are still in the waiting-longing-praying-hoping-waiting-endlessly-waiting stage, and we remember all too well how it felt to hear parents complain about small & stupid little child things as you sit there and think how you would cut off your right arm to have that irritating moment with a child of your very own.

So I have held back as long as I could, but folks--I just can't keep it in any longer.

Yes, I love my kids. In spite of the following.

TOP TEN PET PEEVES ABOUT CHILDREN:

1.) Whining
2.) Poopy nighttime diapers that spread far beyond the confines of the diaper and cover the jammies, sheets, blankets, pillow (what the heck?!! Were you sleeping with the pillow over the opposite end from your head?), and then get tracked across the bedroom floor, up the stairs, into the bathroom and across the front room before a sibling announces the reason our whole house now reeks of smeared poop.
3.) High-pitched screeching
4.) Tattling
5.) When you finish cleaning up the child in no. 2, along with the floor, the bedding, and scrubbing your hands raw from all the disgusting germ exposure they've just received, hearing a different child announce that he also has a 'messy poopy' and needs Mommy to clean it up.
6.) Whining
7.) Whiny children who whine, beg, and plead for a treat, and when Mommy finally parts with cold, hard cash to obtain said treat, take one bite and decide they don't like it anymore.
8.) Ignoring Mom's command to stay out of the mud, adding to the mud by using the forbidden garden hose, soaking yourself and your brother head to toe which makes you a magnet for grass clippings, leaves, sucker sticks, and assorted other debris--not to mention dirt, which creates even more MUD--and then climbing into Mommy's clean bed when the above-cited activities make you so 'coldy.'
9.) Foregoing all the cute, well-coordinated, and moderately stylish clothes that Mommy buys for you in favor of outfits that little orphan Annie would shun, leading to such a vagabond look that a total stranger in a restaurant would say, "Are all these kids yours? Do you do foster care? Gosh, you'd think the government would at least pay for decent clothes for the poor kids." Just for the record, no--none of my kids were adopted through foster care, and yes, the state does pay for decent clothing for foster kids, and yes, all four little beastie-children are mine. Ratty clothes and all.
10.) Whining.

On days when this particular top ten list is at the forefront and becomes a little overwhelming, there is another little teeny list that saves my children more than they know.

1.) They are SOOOO stinkin' cute.
2.) They are SOOOO stinkin' smart.
3.) They are SOOOO stinkin' mine. For always. For good. And even in their most poopy, whiny, messy glory, I'll always be theirs, too. That's why I did the h-e-double-hockey-sticks stuff to get them here, and why I do the poop-cleaning and headache-surviving now, and why I'll somehow make it through teenage years and driving lessons and dating and college expenses and missions and weddings times four. At the end of the day, it's nice to have four little people who matter to me, and it's nice to matter to those four little people, too. Family = belonging. Forever.

That's even stronger than the smell wafting from the downstairs carpet.

Language Barriers

Grace: "Here, Mom. I wrote your name for you."

Me: "Um, that has some of the letters, but it's not actually my name."

Grace: "I know. I wrote your name in Spanish, like W-E-N-D-E-C-I-T-A."

The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth

My kids routinely shuffle through a varied list of potential marriage partners--a list which, if we took out each of them (since they mostly just want to marry each other, and yes, that does mean three sisters fighting over who gets Eric), would be reduced to a few neighbor kids, a couple friends from preschool, and one 'lucky' colleague of mine who is the latest object of Mia's five-year old affection (much to his chagrin & my ongoing entertainment, but that's another story).

Anyway, backseat discussions that involve wedding planning are semi-standard fare around here. This morning on the way to preschool Eric & Mercie were discussing how many potential mates they could have--could Eric marry two princesses or three, could Mercie marry both Jaxon and Aiden, and if so, could she still marry Eric, and how exactly would that work if they married each other and a few other people, too?

Somewhere in the conversation Eric remembered the first real love of his life, his beautiful, blond, blue-eyed babysitter Erynn, who he's had a flaming crush on pretty much since he got off the plane from China. Perking up when I heard her name, I asked Eric if he would marry Erynn when he grew up.

"No way," he asserted.

"But I thought you liked Erynn the best."

"I DO like her the best, but I can't MARRY her."

"Why not?"

As if I'm the dumbest, most dense mommy on the planet--which from his perspective I probably am--he slowly explained, "Because I cannot marry her, because I cannot kiss her."

"Um, why can't you kiss her?"

"Because I can't REACH HER!"

This morning I had a small audience while applying makeup.

Mercie: "Wow--you look pretty, Mommy. Like a pretty witch instead of just a regular one."

Um, thanks...?

Sibling Issues: How It Begins

Mercie: "ERIC! Why do you keep trying to sit by me??!!!"

Eric: "Because I jes' love you."

Long pause. Mommy is in the other room feeling all warm & fuzzy over this rare moment of sibling affection.

Mercie: "Well, I actually don't like you much, but I guess you can sit by me."

Ah, well. I'm pretty sure I disliked a couple of my sisters rather intensely until we were in our twenties or so.

Nudity, Equine-style

Mia: "Can I take off all of my clothes to play horsey?"

Mom: "Uh, why do you need to take off your clothes to play horsey?"

Mia: "Because I'm going to be a BROWN horsey."

Mom: "What are you going to wear to be a brown horsey?"

Mia: "My SKIN!"

Mom: "Well, you probably should at least wear underwear."

Mia: "Why? Horses don't."

They Don't Miss a Thing...

Grace: Mommy, you're not going to believe this! Drake's mom shaves her LEGS!!!

Mom: Actually, most ladies shave their legs. They they like their legs to feel smooth and soft, so they shave all the hair off. That's a pretty normal thing.

Grace looks skeptical. She runs an experimental hand over my bare leg.

Grace: Oh! And you are one of the ladies who likes to have whisker-y legs, right?