Mason 365: Day 7!

And On The Seventh Day...

Back when we had only one kid and a few extra dollars and we lived within reasonable proximity to other mammals that didn't moo, I used to take various baby socialization classes with Logan.
When he was right around the one year mark, we took a class at The Little Gym in McMurray.
I was pregnant with Julianne and one of the other moms who was there with her second child shared my love of super-amateur photography.
She had dedicated herself to taking at least one photograph a day of each of her two children.
She called them their "dailies."

My best habit is more of simultaneous than of daily photography. I'm pretty sure I don't take pictures of the kids every single day, but when I take a picture of one, I take a picture of the others as well. All at the same time. So at the end of the day (literally and figuratively) everyone has roughly the same amount of pictures. I observe this ritual in the hopes that one day when I'm 90 years old and nearly too tired to move, I'll hopefully not have to spend any of my remaining days getting dragged into my grandchild's therapy sessions to discuss how my youngest child (whomever that may turn out to be) felt ignored and neglected due to the extreme lack of photographic evidence of his/her childhood and subsequently went on to psychologically damage the next generation as well.
My fault entirely.
smh. I have too much guilt already.
(Witness my first ever use of smh! I am just too cool for words...
Get it? 'Cause I used letters instead? Too funny too :) )

But anyway, forget about that therapy stuff. Clearly I made it all up.
The truth is that basically I am just completely in love with any and all pictures of my kids.
(Aren't we all?)

So... since it is the proverbial "seventh day" of my "photography" project,
despite the fact that what I'm creating falls pretty far short of the great majesty
that is the creation of the universe,
I thought I'd go a little easy on myself and simply present to you - today's dailies.

Yes Sensei.
In reality, she's wearing the scarf of a very small plastic snowman on her head.
I like this one because it reminds me of one time when Logan was little and he put on one of my elastic headbands.
I told him it made him look just like Rambo.
When Zach walked in a few minutes later he announced excitedly, "Look Dad! I look just like Rainbow."
She's actually slightly closer to living up to the name of "Rainbow.".
His headband was black.

Today was a pajama party day at the Washa House.
Not enough clean laundry :)

The Star of Our Show: Baby Mason!
Is this kid adorable or what?

Looks like Corinne takes the loss in today's therapeutic lottery.
She's in a mood and so is my camera.

Mason 365: Day 6

i cosleep

I follow this guy, Michael Wurm, on Pinterest.

He has a B&B in my home state of Pennsylvania
and  he writes a really popular blog called Inspired by Charm.
His pinboards have a signature style that I really like: they all start with a lowercase i, as in ipad.
He has 52 boards (so far) and at least 50 of them follow the lowercase i pattern:
i blog, i decorate, i bake, i garden, i love dachshunds, etc.
Okay, 'i love dachshunds' isn't one of them. I just made that one up. It's me that loves dachshunds. We saw this one - two trick or treats ago - that was dressed up like a hotdog with a bun on either side and mustard on the top. Sort of like this:

Too adorable.
I took a picture of the one I saw, but it came out lousy.

Anyhow, I love the i theme for a couple of reasons.
First of all, it gives his profile a unifying theme which is nothing short of awe-inspiring to yours truly and the other pinboard challenged of the universe, and second of all because they're just clearly uniquely him.
You may have noticed that I'm not especially hung up on grammar (if you haven't, I won't get into it right now because I could write a whole separate blog on that topic alone) so his freewheeling use of capitalization appeals to that side of me as well.

But here's the point: That explanation just siphoned away about five minutes of your life for the sole and probably unnecessary purpose of divining an explanation for the title of my post.
Thanks Michael Wurm, Jr! Keep up the good blogging!

 Now, moving on to my actual topic: Parenting Advice!
Want some?
Sorry Charlie, you've come to wrong place.
I'm not giving it.
I'm complaining about it.
So now that we're rid of a good half of you... to those remaining, I present:

List of Things I've Been Told By Relatives and Strangers Will Unquestionably Cause Permanent Harm to My Children Since I Was Pregnant With Logan
(and this isn't even all of them)

• Overfeeding
• Underfeeding

• Sunshine:

• Too Much? Sunburn... Heatstroke... Flaming Retinas...

• Not Enough? No Vitamin D...Depression... (a HUGE concern involving the infant subculture)... Poor social skills brought on my extreme isolation from other sunbathers... 

• Swimming:

• "If you start swimming lessons too early, your kids will be frightened of the water." ('Cause they didn't just get through swimming in my uterus for 9 months!)

• "Plus if you accidentally drop them in, they might drown."  

• "Your baby will be too afraid of the water to swim if you don't get him into a pool as young as possible. You need to just dunk his head down in the water while he's still a baby so he'll be used to it." -Three Time Parent of the Year who has inexplicably asked to remain anonymous...

• I've also heard my share (and then some) about the real or imagined dangers of chlorine and of course, once again, *sigh* burnt skin. They make a lotion for that, but there's a chance it could be toxic as well.

• Don't feed peanut butter, nuts, or berries to babies under 4 years. This may cause anaphylactic shock with limited reaction time.

• Do feed known allergens to babies between 4 and 6 months. This will make them less likely to develop allergies.

• I compromise at a year. I see the concern, but there's no history of food allergies in our family. Although I have considered this other worthwhile alternative: Offer the potential allergen to a child under one year as a snack while you just happen to be, you know, just hangin' out in the ER waiting room - for a few hours - for no apparent reason. I'm just saying...

• Don't breastfeed in the car. "You're all going to suffocate from the exhaust."  A lady who was a complete stranger to me once tapped on my window in the Home Depot parking lot to lecture me on this topic for roughly five minutes while I sat there with a baby attached to my exposed breast. Think about all the exhaust that must have come in through the open window while she was talking. Not to mention the hot air...

• Don't Breastfeed in Public. It's "disgusting" and "weird" and my legal right :)  Who knew?

• Don't Eat Too Much When You're Pregnant

• You'll be sorry later when your baby's trim and healthy and you're huge and fat.

• "I can't tell you how many calories to eat; Just eat as many as you need.. but not too many."

• "Only eat when you're hungry."

• "Only eat 300 more calories than you normally do."  -Like I know how many calories I "normally" eat. That is a complex equation involving how many activities the kids and I are involved in on any specific day and how many bags of cheetos and/or cookies are readily available. And on what kind of clothes I'm wearing. And I only do ba-sic math once a year - when a reward in the form of a sizable refund may be involved.

• "Eat the same amount of calories you normally would. Pregnant women don't actually need any extra food."  -Umm, once again... "normally?!"

• Eat Everything In Sight When You're Pregnant

• If you don't, your baby will have "birth defects, generally poor health, underweight, prematurity, bad eating habits when he's older... " stop me when I get to something the baby is  likely to have that would actually realistically be related to prenatal food consumption...

• Keep Fit While Pregnant

• Like I'm not fit all the time...  2 years postpartum I still "fit" right in to all of my maternity clothing...

• Don't Lift Heavy Things or "Exert Yourself" While Pregnant

• The 'exerting' one is especially doable when you have three kids under 5 already.

• Kids Need to Be In School

• Otherwise they'll have poor social skills and grow up to be technological and social pariahs... or write a famous transcendentalist novel.

• Kids Pick Up Bad Habits from Other Kids. Keep them home as long as you can.

• Right. Because I'm such a rocket scientist... My kids need to go to school just so they can learn something from someone who has a solid grip on long division.

• Vaccines.  Don't even ask.

• You know it...

• Grandparent Offender #1: "Be sweet to your kids. Let everything go. They're only young once. Let them have fun. Enjoy life. Boys will be boys."

• The Following Day; Same Grandparent: "Kids need discipline. People are staring! Why doesn't he listen to you? You have got to get him under control. Have you tried time out? Back in my day, we'd put soap in a mouth like that. What's so wrong with spanking. Why, when I was young, if we even thought about talking back to our parents...

And of course: Public Enemy Number One.
Ever see this one?

 Repulsive.
I'm ashamed to say it originated in my state.

Pay close attention new and expecting moms - At our house it looks a lot more like this:

(You know, if I was a bit younger and better looking, and had floral sheets.)

Here's my actual baby in the bed this morning:

Looks suspiciously alive, doesn't he?
Read this if you have some time:
http://www.askdrsears.com/topics/sleep-problems/co-sleeping-yes-no-sometimes
It's awesome.
Or this:
http://www.askdrsears.com/news/latest-news/dr-sears-addresses-recent-co-sleeping-concerns
It's basically the same, just a little more recent.



(extended eyeroll)
...and then there's this:
I saw it online the other day. A 'discourse' among young women with zero to one child apiece (roughly paraphrased):
"Have you ever approached a mom in the grocery store to tell her that the improper use of her infant car seat in the shopping cart could be endangering her child?"
Most hadn't had the audacity to actually approach someone, but nonetheless weighed in with appropriate amounts of contempt for these careless and irresponsible excuses for parents.
Those who had attempted the approach described the reactions they got as "rude" or "hostile." In other words, maternal.
You just approached what was most likely a stretched, exhausted, busy, diligent if not overly protective supermom to accuse her of laziness and neglect in the case of death by shopping cart.
Think she hasn't done the risk/benefit analysis already? That she's going to respond, "Oh thank you! Thank you so very, very much. I never would have associated the words 'hematoma' and 'concussion' with my shopping experience had it not been for you. How enlightened I am now by your all-seeing presence."
Think again. She might say something along those lines. We're polite like that.
But my advice? Don't go back to the store at that same time next week or you might have to see something like this:

Horrifying, isn't it? Julianne secures one side of the car seat. I keep my eye on the other.
I've heard a lot of "Boy you sure have your hands full," and "How ya fit any groceries in that cart?" and the occasional, "What aisle do they keep those in? Stocking up?"
Once a woman approached me at Walmart and gave me twenty dollars.
She said with all the kids I have to feed, I needed it more than she did.
I donated it to the Children's Miracle Network.
Pay it forward.
But I appreciated the sentiment.
And that it didn't come with any unsolicited advice.

Take Home Lesson?
Ever see those free sample booths at the end of the aisles on weekends?
They're giving away enough freebies at the grocery store.
Leave your folk wisdom in the Clearance section.

Charge:
Risk of drowning in a public pool
while wearing potentially toxic sunscreen.

Additional Evidence For When They Finally Come To Cart Me Away For Neglect & Child Endangerment:

Trapped indoors while the sun is shining.
Forced to play with non-educational toys.

Overfed?

Eating berries unsupervised under the age of 4.

Not in the ER waiting room.

Ambiguous Pregnancy Photos

Guess my "normal" caloric intake.
Over/Under Set At 2000.
And... Go!

Exerting Myself.
For Shame!
Even Logan is Embarrassed.

Not long division. I swear!

Picking up bad habits at school.

Mason 365: Day 5

Sunday's Here!

Two days ago, on Good Friday, a visiting deacon was invited to give the homily at our church.

It was a really good one.

I even stayed awake for most of it.

He read a sermon that was delivered some years ago by a pastor in Philadelphia to his Baptist congregation

entitled, It's Friday, But Sunday's Coming:

"It was a simple sermon, starting softly, building in volume and intensity until the entire congregation was completely involved, repeating the phrases in unison. The sermon went something like this.

It’s Friday. Jesus is arrested in the garden where He was praying. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The disciples are hiding and Peter’s denying that he knows the Lord. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is standing before the high priest of Israel, silent as a lamb before the slaughter. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is beaten, mocked, and spit upon. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Those Roman soldiers are flogging our Lord with a leather scourge that has bits of bones and glass and metal, tearing at his flesh. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The Son of man stands firm as they press the crown of thorns down into his brow. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. See Him walking to Calvary, the blood dripping from His body. See the cross crashing down on His back as He stumbles beneath the load. It’s Friday; but Sunday’s a coming.

It’s Friday. See those Roman soldiers driving the nails into the feet and hands of my Lord. Hear my Jesus cry, “Father, forgive them.” It’s Friday; but Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is hanging on the cross, bloody and dying. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The sky grows dark, the earth begins to tremble, and He who knew no sin became sin for us. Holy God who will not abide with sin pours out His wrath on that perfect sacrificial lamb who cries out, “My God, My God. Why hast thou forsaken me?” What a horrible cry. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. And at the moment of Jesus’ death, the veil of the Temple that separates sinful man from Holy God was torn from the top to the bottom because Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is hanging on the cross, heaven is weeping and hell is partying. But that’s because it’s Friday, and they don’t know it, but Sunday’s a coming.

And on that horrible day 2000 years ago, Jesus the Christ, the Lord of glory, the only begotten Son of God, the only perfect man died on the cross of Calvary. Satan thought that he had won the victory. Surely he had destroyed the Son of God. Finally he had disproved the prophecy God had uttered in the Garden and the one who was to crush his head had been destroyed. But that was Friday.

Now it’s Sunday. And just about dawn on that first day of the week, there was a great earthquake. But that wasn’t the only thing that was shaking because now it’s Sunday. And the angel of the Lord is coming down out of heaven and rolling the stone away from the door of the tomb. Yes, it’s Sunday, and the angel of the Lord is sitting on that stone and the guards posted at the tomb to keep the body from disappearing were shaking in their boots because it’s Sunday, and the lamb that was silent before the slaughter is now the resurrected lion from the tribe of Judah, for He is not here, the angel says. He is risen indeed.

It’s Sunday, and the crucified and resurrected Christ has defeated death, hell, sin and the grave. It’s Sunday. And now everything has changed. It’s the age of grace, God’s grace poured out on all who would look to that crucified lamb of Calvary. Grace freely given to all who would believe that Jesus Christ died on the cross of Calvary was buried and rose again. All because it’s Sunday.

At the end of the message the pastor shouts out:

It’s Friiidaaaay!

And the whole congregation responds:

But Sunday’s Coming!"

I was planning to just link to the page where I found the sermon, but I was afraid if I did that you wouldn't read it. And you should. You really should. It's worth your time, I promise.

I've always associated the Baptist faith with their known exuberance during the church service.

This is not a trait that I would ever, ever associate with us Roman Catholic types.

They don't call it the weekly "obligation" for nothin'.

We like to show up late, leave early, recite stuff, and sing if we feel like it.

That being said, we also help one another, pray earnestly, 

value charity, and practice tolerance and compassion.

What we do not do (those of us over the age of 5 or so anyway) is yell out during mass.

But darned if this guest preacher did not get a Catholic congregation to do just that!

I didn't do it. I was scared. I learned it young and I learned it well: 

Keep your fat trap shut when the priest is talking.

But I kind of wish I'd forgotten that on Friday, 

because I think it would have been nice to be a little Baptist for 15 minutes or so.

They have a passion that Catholics have but don't share in the same way.

I've been blessed to have so few Fridays in my life.

Maybe not even any in comparison to the struggles of others.

Maybe more like Thursday evenings...

But hearing that sermon made me so excited about the one long ongoing Sunday that is my life.

And particularly about this Easter Sunday.

If you think (possibly a little too hard) about it, you could pretty easily fit childbirth into the 'Sunday's Coming' metaphor. It's not easy, it's not fun, it can seem like it's never going to end... but Sunday's Coming.

We have so many fun and exciting things planned for later today and I can't wait to celebrate for the first time with all four of my sweet little Sundays.

Happy Easter Everyone!

Sunday's Here!

Sneak Preview of what my kids will be seeing when they get up this morning:

We're trying a super fun Puzzle Hunt this year!

Each of the kids has a little basket or something similar stuck on the "Easter Tree" (don't ask.)

Each basket contains a couple of the pieces to the almost-finished puzzles.

Logan's is the Madagascar, Julianne's is the Franklin, and Corinne's is the Little People.

Wish us luck!

The hunt for the egg-stra-special egg begins.
This is the only egg on the tree that actually has something in it.
I'll probably just have the kids point to different eggs and try to guess which one it is.
Otherwise I'll be cleaning egg shrapnel out of my carpet for a week.

Some shoes and "crowns" and stuff ready and waiting for church in the morning.

Decorated eggs chillin' on the kiddie table.

Kiddie Table: Aerial View

And now... the egg-citing conclusion of...
The Broken Egg Mystery!
The kids were doing egg-tremely well with
handling the fragile eggs properly until...
they finished decorating and I told them it was time to
put them away in the refrigerator until tomorrow.
Corinne did not handle the announcement well,
responding by flying into a fit of fury and pounding
the helpless egg against the table.
To be fair though, she is only 1 and clearly what she thought
she was doing was just pounding her fist in anger
because I'm pretty sure she was the only person
at the table who was surprised to see that the shell was broken.
Oh well, there's always n-eggxt year :)

Mason 365: Day 4

Let's Just Pretend It's Still Saturday.

Holy Week is always both truly inspiring and entirely draining for me.

Today's going pretty well so far (I say so far even though it's almost midnight and I'm probably the only person I know who is still awake) because before I can go to bed I still have to: finish this post, clean, prepare Easter baskets, decorate the "Easter Tree" (oh it's happening Tracie; I'll take the pictures when it's all done,) get dress clothes washed and laid out, and possibly build some puzzles (long story; Easter-related though.))

• I took the kids grocery shopping this morning for the first time in who knows how long - and despite the $270 cart-full I came out with I, of course, still forgot my average of at least 6 items. I can't even seem to leave the store with what I need when it's on the list! I start looking at it and talking to the kids and getting all confused and before I know it - home - with no waffles, no maple syrup, no cat food, no frozen veggies, no chicken, no milk, no nothin'. But that's okay. It took me long enough just to put away the stuff I actually did buy.

• Other than the food shopping we pretty much spent the day just cleaning and arguing ...and dying Easter Eggs! They don't look all that awesome, but we had a fun and surprisingly stress-free time making them. I found this recipe where you use just food coloring and water and a little white vinegar to dye the eggs. I was really egg-cited about how well it worked out - until I went into the Easter decoration bin and found about 15 of those little color tablets left over from last year. I'm always kind of frustrated with them, though, because you can never tell what color they really are until you get them in the water. At least this way the kids got the egg-act colors they wanted. (Yeah I know that's annoying, but I'm pretty egg-hausted, so I'm probably not going to stop.) Logan and Julianne both wanted blue and Logan wanted blue for Mason as well. When I asked Corinne what color she wanted she said, "purple." Another egg-citing development! I really expected her to say 'blue' because she tends to just repeat what other people say, but she made the decision all by herself (!) and she even pronounced the word 'purple' with surprising clarity.

• One of today's many and varied highlights occurred at the end of the Easter Vigil, when Fr. Ken wished us all a "very blessed Christmas." It was nice to be in the company of another person who is noticeably feeling the effects of the Holy Week Frazzle (and, as Zach's aunt pointed out, we do still have our tree up (another story for another day.)) 

Fr. Ken blamed the weather for his confusion.
For mine... I blame the kids.

I let the kids put their own eggs in the bowl and scoop them back out again.
This was a pretty big gamble since we only boiled four - one for each kid.
(Nobody much likes to eat them at our house.)

I thought they were going to break them all right out of the gate,
but they waited until slightly later...
to be continued...

(Julianne's in this pouty won't-smile-for-pictures stage.
They all go through this at least once or twice prior to age 5 and she couldn't have timed hers better.
After all, who wants to look at pictures of happy kids on Easter anyway.)

This was supposed to be a picture of Mason "dying Easter Eggs"
(i.e. fast asleep in the monkey bouncer)
but the kids woke him up before I could snap it.

Three of the finished eggs (Logan was still working on his)
while Corinne's was still intact...
another  mysterious clue...

Mason 365: Day 3

It's a Nice Day for a Good Friday

Since she climbed out of her crib and came downstairs all by herself this morning for only the second time ever (the first time being naptime yesterday when she decided it definitely was not nap time after all) and since she just so happened to have picked up a crown somewhere along the way (my little princesses refer to all headbands as crowns,) I thought for a little change of pace, Good Friday might be just the day to feature my precious baby girl, Corinne.
She's getting so big so fast and she has so much coming up behind her that I sometimes struggle with the fact that she's not even two yet. I want to make her older than she is. I want her to know what the older kids know and do what the older kids do and behave like she's two or four years ahead of herself.
But she can't. And if I turn on my fool brain and think about it for just half a second, I realize that I really don't want her to anyway.

I snapped this photo of her right after she surprised us this morning, doing two of her favorite baby things:
sucking her two fingers (the nurses first caught her doing this in the hospital nursery right after she was born; they said it probably started in the womb) and holding her pink elephant blankie. It has Mommy Loves Me embroidered on the front and it's absolutely filthy, but I can hardly ever slip it away from her long enough to get it through the endless wash cycle. She can't sleep without it and, even though it's supposed to "nap" in the crib during her waking hours (she sets it down so sweetly on her pillow when I come to get her and says "Elphunt. Nap," she brought along during the Great Crib Escape this morning. She was calling it "Elle" for a while, but she's recently upgraded to "Elphunt."
She's wearing her sister's Dora pajamas. We can't exactly figure out why, but the two of them wear almost the exact same size and we swap out their clothes so frequently I've seriously been considering just combining them into one big giant girly dresser. Another thing I love about this picture is that you can see they're still a tad too long.
*sniff* I can remember when they were a tad too long on Julianne.

Reflecting on Good Friday, this year in particular, has caused me to focus a little more on Jesus' mother, Mary, and on how quickly our children grow and start to follow their own paths. They may not all teach scholars in the temple at the age of 12, but they start to go their own ways, expand their own networks, show their talents and follow through with their passions so young.
She knew which two fingers were her favorite even before Day 1 of her post-uterine lifetime. What important decisions will she make in two more years? Or 10? Where will she be when she's my age?
I can't wait to hear the stories she'll tell about my grandchildren...
But for now, it's a good day. It's a good Friday.
Every day with my babies is a blessing.

Lord, help me to love every one of them in the way that they need,
To appreciate them in the way they deserve,
and to know when and how to let go with grace.
Amen.

Mason 365: Day 2

It's 3 AM and I Must Be Hungry

...and Teething

To be honest, it was probably closer to 5:15 when I took these. But I couldn't say for sure because I refuse to put in my contacts any earlier than I absolutely have to and there is not one clock on the first floor that I can read bare-eyed without standing on furniture or jamming my face into some radioactive green glare.

Let's just split the difference and call it about 4:07 & 1/2.

Baby Mason is truly an awesome sleeper, but pre-teething he slept 11 or 12 hours at night and occasionally added a two or three hour nap right in on top of that.
This gave me time to get whatever kids were off to school that morning up, ready and out the door without skipping any z's or sweet baby fun!
I got spoiled...
and along came teething, which snuck up from behind and turned my sometimes 10-noon sleeper into a semi-solid 9-5 with an all-expenses-paid trip downstairs every morning to avoid a tumultuous mass-waking of the rest of the family.
'So what's to complain about, you sorry wimpy excuse for a newborn mom?'
In Short: Nothing
Not One Thing
The first couple of nights were pretty rough. I've never really had a problem teether before.
I didn't even know most of the other kids were getting teeth until they broke through and bit me with one and most of my kids have slept through the night almost immediately, so having to get up 2, 3, 4 times with a 3-month-old and then care for four of them all day long was a pretty big shock to my system.
But, as with all big adjustments, we're starting to develop a rhythm and I'm loving the bright side:
For a mommy of four, private quiet time with baby is a massive luxury and if I have to steal mine by starting the day at 3 AM... or 4:07 1/2... or 5:15... or what have you, then so be it.
Sign me up and count me in for a lifetime supply of this:

I couldn't decide which one I liked best so I decided on a montage.

Fast asleep after breastfeeding on the sofa.

The angle was a little awkward (that's my blue shirt to the left of him), but the shots came out great!

*sigh... but for that darned camera strap shadow in the last one.

He's so precious when he's sleeping...

and when he's awake.

Mason 365: Day 1

A friend from high school does this 365 Photo a Day Challenge where she takes a picture of something fun or beautiful or sweet or just an average part of life every single day for an entire year! She does a beautiful job for many reasons, not the least of which are that she has an awesome perspective on life and that she's a professional photographer. Although I know nothing about Instagram or Flickr or any other programs that is known to help photog-types enhance their craft and although I maintain a somewhat hopeless love/hate relationship with my cheap Samsung pocket camera from Walmart, I've decided to give it a try!

Her most recent 365 project focuses on the newest addition to her family, who is just a couple of months younger than ours, so I thought it would be fun to embrace that theme as well; following the little guy through his first year of development. Since I'm much more a writer than a photographer, I figured on utilizing the blogosphere for this project, allowing me to document my wee one's development through both language and visuals.

And so, without further ado, Cereal Mom Blog proudly presents:

Mason 365

And away we go...

The minute I snapped this one, I knew we had a winner!
I absolutely love it when the kids try to give Mason a kiss and he tries to kiss them back.
He usually misses (as evidenced by the photo) and ends up either kissing someone's nose or trying to suck on it.
The monkey in the foreground is Julianne waving the bouncer toy to try to get Mason's attention so I can take a good picture. Originally I was trying to get kind of an artsy photo of Mason behind the veil of the monkey toy, but I definitely prefer this one; nothing beats the love between new brothers. Julianne wasn't notified of the change.

Oh, and I have no idea what that silvery thing on the right is. Mason's guardian angel caught on film?
Or maybe just another example of my poor photography skills. Hold on tight folks. This could be a long, long year.

The Grand Tour

Since mostly everyone already knows what we've been up to lately I decided to try something a little different this year.  What follows are the full-size (non-cropped) images of our thoughtfully selected Christmas card photos.  I thought the story of them might tell the story of us a bit more thoroughly than would your standard Christmas letter. Enjoy!

Logan is coming up on halfway through his first year of Kindergarten (4K) and is a few weeks in to his amateur hockey career as a member of the Ice Wolves hockey team. I believe myself to be taking the transition in stride with the notable exception of the donning of hockey equipment. Each week, Logan sits cooperatively and the girls look on patiently as Mom wrestles with skates, pads, socks, and other bewildering hockey items, some of the names of which she doesn't know and others she just can't recall. Dad, of course, is elated to have an athlete in the family (and probably also to be at work on Saturday mornings while the skates are being laced and the helmet hammered into position.) Mostly the young rookies are still just learning how to maneuver on the ice, but Logan has improved tremendously in the past couple of weeks alone and we are very proud of his spirit and perseverance. 

As some of you may have guessed, I cheated a little with this one. It's actually from Danielle's wedding a couple of years ago. With so many small children biting our ankles, it's somewhat rare to find a picture of just the two of us together. I actually did manage to turn up one that was taken earlier this year, but I decided the background didn't fit in well enough with the other Christmas card photos, so I went with this one instead. My favorite thing about going back and digging up this picture after a couple of years is that I realized Baby Corinne is in it as well! This is August 13, 2010 and we were expecting, but didn't know it yet, so Zach's hand resting probably right on her is a complete coincidence <3

Our most recent family photo, taken September 2012.  We decided to do our photos early this year because my little daredevil Julianne had to have a tooth pulled in early October due to some trauma involving a fall from a chair. Ironically, she's not smiling a toothy smile in the photo and she looks equally adorable partially toothless anyway. If anyone keeps their old Christmas cards, you can probably go back through and see that we've worn red and black every year since the beginning of time. However, this year, for whatever reason (perhaps pregnancy hormones) I decided I was sick and tired of red, so we went with blues and browns (and a little purple) instead.

Corinne sporting her signature massive baby grin.  She just  loves to say cheese (often she even says it if you're holding something that looks remotely like, but is definitely not, a camera) and she holds out the 'ee' in cheese for as long as she possibly can which is why almost every picture of her looks exactly like this.

Our Preschool Ballerina Julianne. She chose the dance outfit all by herself and she just loves getting all prettied up for dance class. Her group will be performing Baby's First Christmas in the Highland Holiday Concert on the 20th. She is so excited and we can't wait to see all the little ones dancing with their baby dolls.  (Julianne's "baby" of choice is currently a stuffed seahorse, so I suppose we'll see that too.) So adorable. She has the best time with the other little girls and since she takes lessons up at the school, most of them are going to be in her pre-kindergarten class next year so she'll have some friends and a big brother around to get her off to a great start! 

We had some spring photos of the kids taken in May. They are so precious. I got a great deal on these right-after-Easter dresses. The girls were so excited about them. I always get Logan's picture taken in the same suit. Poor kid. He's growing so tall though that I think by next year I'm finally going to have to start shopping for a new one. 

This is a bonus photo :) I really wanted to get it on the card, but I just couldn't make it work. It's me with all four of my little ones. Logan has his left hand on the baby. The bears are just visiting.

A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM OUR HOUSE TO YOURS!

WE LOVE YOU ALL!

God Bless,

Zach, Andrea, Logan, 

Julianne, Corinne, and (coming soon) Baby Mason

Umbrella People

I've always had a problem with umbrellas. When I was a kid, I had this beautiful pink ruffly girly one that I loved - and hated.

I'm not sure at what point we, as a society, decided that it was acceptable to soak oneself to the bone daily in the shower or that it's perfectly logical to run through a sprinkler or lay half-naked in a giant pool of water on a hot summer day, but on that exact same type of day a person would have to be insane not to want a giant synthetic mushroom covering as much of him/her as possible should a few drops of water begin to fall from the sky.

But back to my pretty pink umbrella. Obviously I loved it for it's sheer beauty which is most likely why I tolerated it for so long, especially after the unfortunate day when I passed under a wily maple tree on my walk to school and a spider rudely and terrifyingly fell on top of it and I had to look at the horrid thing through the semi-transparent veil of my pretty though from that point on, somewhat permanently diminished, ruffly umbrella.
Beyond the unfortunate arachnid episode, I also hated that the umbrella pinched my poor delicate little girl fingers every time I tried to fold the darn thing down.  And, let's face it, once you have arrived, hopefully dry, at your desired location, then there's still a) the trying to hold the umbrella far enough from your body so you can shake the rainwater you've thus far worked so hard to keep away from you from spraying all over the (presumably nice) clothing that you've been trying to protect, and b) the trying to set the umbrella down in just such a way and in just such a location that it's likely to dry out before it's next use and it won't roll away down the church stairs.  (Make of it what you will, but for whatever reason the skies always seemed to open up just as I was making my way to the sanctuary. It even rained on the day of my wedding. I didn't use an umbrella then either.)
Although, in defense of my synthetic friends, you almost definitely needn't sweat the stair issue if your umbrellas are anything like most of the umbrellas at our house were and a good half of the sharp metal spokes have separated from the fabric, protruding dangerously out the sides and providing a comfortable level of insurance that your umbrella will not ever be rolling anywhere again. Of course the kind of insurance that umbrellas in this condition really should come with is additional health insurance to cover anyone who may be walking at eye level next to them, but my pretty pink umbrella was designed for children so it had convenient plastic spoke covers to avoid just these kinds of liabilities. I wasn't afforded the privilege of carrying one of the AFLAC-necessitating umbrellas until a good many years later when I was deemed responsible enough to put my friends eyes out with impugnity.

Finally, when I was in 11th grade, I participated in my high school production of Singin' in the Rain for which every ensemble member was required to purchase a specific brand of umbrella in a specified color. Somewhat to my dismay, I was assigned the yellow umbrella, a color that I didn't mind, but didn't love, and that I continue to be saddled with to this day. My best guess is that this bright yellow emcumbrance is currently located somewhere in the trunk of my car... or maybe my husband's car... or maybe the broom closet... or maybe... Well, the fact is that I haven't got a clue what became of it beyond that I am still in possession of it in some capacity because by the 11th grade I was for all intents and purposes and thoroughly and completely over and done with umbrellas. Actually, I should really consider looking through some of my old high school memoribilia to see if I can't find any photographs from that production because these would serve as the only official documentation of the last time I used (or probably even laid hands on) an umbrella. I no longer even stand beneath other people's umbrellas when they offer. There's almost always an awning or vehicle available in the general vicinity, and even when there isn't... well, it's just a matter of principle.

There are a great many undesirable personality traits and/or bad habits that we inadvertently pass on to our children. In fact, although my oldest child has only yesterday celebrated his fifth birthday, thus rendering the following declaration a really bad sign, just off the top of my head I can list a number of these - let's call them hereditary traits - that I have put upon my young ones to date, not the least of which is hardly ever wearing any kind of protective outerwear regardless of the weather. If you're thinking that statement can't be accurate due to the fact that you've often seen me clad in my husband's huge black wool peacoat, although it has been pretty darn cold out recently this phenomenon is scarcely weather-related.  Much more closely related than the elements is the fact that my eight plus months pregnant form refuses to squeeze into anything that either fits properly or looks half-decent; the peacoat being the perfect disguise (must be why they're so popular with detectives) as it covers both my belly and the top of my pants, sooo as long as my lower legs look somewhat stylish, BOOM, I become instantaneously socially acceptable. Now if I could only manage to get my hair styled in the morning...
Unfortunately, while leading by example is a respected and useful method of preschooler training, I don't model coat-wearing nearly often or consistently enough to even scratch the surface of the damage I've already done and thus my kids continue to feel, as I secretly (or perhaps now not-so-secretly) do, that unless you're planning to stand or sit out in the frigid elements for an elongated time period (a thing I seldom purposely do), it's much faster and more comfortable to leave these cumbersome bindings behind and just make a break for the nearest heated structure instead. Does this strategy have its pitfalls? Definitely. Have I been practicing it for a great many years with no fatalities to speak of? (sorry mom) Absolutely.

So you see how I use my insane twist on psychology to justify my dysfunctional and illogical behavior. As you know if you are a parent (or will likely learn soon enough if you are not one) everything you do and say to or in the vicinity of your children has unintended repercussions. Sometimes these are good. (For example, my little mom heart melts a lot every time I watch my children playing sweetly with their baby dolls or nurturing one another using language that is unmistakably mine.) And sometimes they're... well... just plain paranoid - like this:
A couple of weeks ago, I was dropping Julianne off at preschool during a torrential downpour when the mom of a little boy from Julianne's class offered us a spot under her umbrella. The distance between my car and the school was literally not more than 50 feet, thus activating my defensive umbrella-evading impulses and causing me to turn down her generous offer. (I should also add that we had almost traveled the distance between our car and hers when she made the offer; her car being parked a good 30 feet closer to the door then ours was.)  As we safely procured a nice dry post (shockingly, despite our rogue umbrellalessness, we didn't get that wet in the first place) inside the door (nice umbrella mom was still outside the door (which has no awning) shaking out and attempting to close the clearly indispensible tool that was her umbrella), Julianne finally thought to pose to me the age-old question of why we don't have an umbrella. My mind, as usual consumed with the idea of getting up the stairs and into the classroom less than half an hour late for once, I offhandedly responded, "We're just not umbrella people."
When I returned a bit under 3 hours later to retrieve her, the rain had still not ceased and umbrella-clad moms were gathering in droves at the door futilely attempting to shake off what was still coming down. While they spent their time engaged in this useful activity, I made my way up the stairs, picked up Julianne, and we emerged, hand-in-hand into the torrent on the heels of another little boy and his mom.  On our way out the door, we were temporarily delayed as the mom stopped to pick up her umbrella (to be fair, her vehicle was parked slightly  farther from the door than was the first mom's, though still not farther than my own) before heading off in the opposite direction. As they walked away, Julianne glanced several times back at them, pensively, suspiciously, before motioning for me to move my ear closer to her lips and nervously inquiring, "Mom... are they... ... umbrella people?"

Yes Dear. Beware. Beware the Umbrella People. They're Smart. They're Crafty. And They Like to be Dry.
If not for logic and the sensible application of physics, they would be Unstoppable.

This is not the pink ruffly umbrella with which I spent a relatively minor portion of my childhood.
If I ever do manage to turn up a picture of me actually holding mine I'll  definitely use it to replace this one.
Or I'll burn it.
One or the other.
Beware the Umbrella People