around here

A couple of nights ago, Brian and I were sitting on the couch rather late when an obviously sleepy and fussy little boy with a naked bottom went running by.  Feeling a little lazy, Brian said, "He's all yours."  I said, "Nope.  I'm going to check the bedroom, you take care of him."  We got up.  But we were a little too late.  The boy had already opened the cupboard under the kitchen sink, except he can't really open it all the way because of the child safety latch.  So it was open a couple inches and he was attempting to pee in the trash can.  Unfortunately, he really was just peeing all over the kitchen floor and all over the side of the trash can and all over the cupboard doors.  Brian says he seemed to kind of wake up and realize that something was wrong midway through and started to get distressed, but Brian just told him, "It's ok little dude, just keep peeing.  You're doing a great job."  So it was that I spent 15 minutes cleaning up the mess while Brian dealt with the little boy who was now fussing something awful and resisting Brian's efforts to clean his feet and legs.  Brian said, "This parenthood stuff sure is great."  You know, Cumorah once peed in the laundry room.  She apparently got lost.  I've had to direct her a few times to the correct place, though most every night she wakes up to use the restroom and does make it to the correct place on her own.  Once I caught her just as she was sitting on our antique rocking chair to pee.  Whew!  That was a close one.  I also found her sleeping on the bathroom floor before as well.  She just didn't make it back to bed.  I'm sure that me telling all this would totally embarrass her, but isn't that what parents are for?



Quincy is developing quite the personality.  We took her binky away a couple of months ago, but she didn't get over it after two weeks of being binky-free.  And when I say she didn't get over it, I mean she woke up crying all night and pulled at my shirt wanting to nurse all day.  Annoying.  I figured she still needed the binky and gave it back for naptime and bedtime only.  Though we do use it at church, too, since we get lectured a little too often about reverence.  Anyway, in the end Quincy won the binky battle.  Here's hoping she won't win the war.  She knows she is not supposed to have her binky when she's awake.  Recently, she found a binky in a bag in the kitchen.  She smiled at me and made her little, hah!-look-at-me-I'm-adorable-isn't-this-so-funny-laugh several times while she was walking backwards away from me.  When she got to the doorway that leads to the back hall and the playroom, she turned around, popped the binky in her mouth and ran.  She's only 15 months.  She'll also crawl under her crib in search of the fallen binkies.  Quincy has started to throw tantrums.  She is slow to forgive if you do something that really offends her.  I took a bite of her (very big) cookie once.  Oh. My. Goodness.  You must never ever ever take a bite of Quincy's cookie or any sweet treat for that matter.  She cried and screamed and threw that cookie as far as she could.  It took her several minutes to recover.  As someone said at church, "She's experimenting with her inner diva."  I think that's a nice way of saying she's a spoiled little baby brat.  Of course, she is still absolutely the most adorable little girl ever.  Her latest tantrums involve walking or running and then throwing herself randomly to the floor and then just laying there.  On her back, on her face, or awkwardly on her side.  It doesn't seem to matter.  It's pretty much hilarious at this point in time.  I'm sure the time will come quickly when it is not so funny.  Quincy was mad at me over breakfast a few days ago.  She threw her spoon on the floor, made an ever-so-subtle turn of her head and glared at me.  I didn't react.  So a moment or two later she threw her bowl of milk and Cheerios on the floor.  She did get a reaction that time.  Her seat was pulled away from the table and she sat in disgrace with much weeping and wailing while I cleaned up the floor.  How does she know that being pulled away from the table is a punishment?  Quincy's first word was bye-bye.  Waving good-bye when Daddy leaves for work is a pretty big deal around here.  She also has perfected "no" with an exaggerated perfectly rounded little mouth.  She doesn't completely seem to understand what it really means all the time.  I think she says it mostly because she hears all the other short people around here say it a lot.  She says Mommy, Daddy, ball, and baby (which she pronounces bobby) as well.  And once while waving good-bye, she said 'uvf yooo' and twisted a tiny fist in her attempt to sign it as well.  The girls thought this adorable and mimicked her.  I ended up having to correct them and emphasize that she had said 'Uvf yooo' and not 'Eff yooo'.  They don't know why it matters that they get that detail just right, but hearing my little girls saying 'Eff you" over and over again was a little disconcerting.  Despite her diva episodes, Quincy really is a sweet, happy baby.  I think she is the cutest baby we've made so far, and I think we've made some pretty cute babies.  Quincy smiles a lot at us.  She is always toddling somewhere, doing something busy.  She loves baths.  She gives kisses and hugs.   She likes to wrestle with Daddy.  She's just adorable and growing way too fast.  



Rivers went to the thrift store with me, just the two of us.  It was really fun to be there with her.  She kept finding things that were so beautiful.  We found what we went for, but we also came home with a ceramic squirrel for the kid garden we plan to make in the spring and a couple other harmless items that do serve some sort of purpose, albeit not important purposes.  All of the extra items were purchased as a direct result of Rivers' presence.  If it was up to her, we would have come home with some miniature crystal swans on top of a little round mirror because it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.  She really reminds me of myself as a little girl.  I see similarities in the way she poses for the camera and the way in which everything in the world can be so romantical to her (as Auntie Crystal would say).   I have heard her singing lovely ballads when she is caught up in her emotion and the beauty of the world outside in her backyard or in her living room.  It all works.  For that matter, I heard her singing what I think was a lament during one apparently difficult afternoon.  The day she learned that Brian and she share the same favorite color of blue was magical, life changing.  She gasped and just couldn't believe it.  She hugged and caressed her father, relishing the new bond they share.  Rivers is a delicate little girl.  Fragile really.  Brian has already had to put her elbow back in its socket, she falls to the floor occasionally after landing on her ankle wrong and I know I've hurt her wrist before holding onto her hand.  She has such delicate little facial features and is just all around little and slender.  She does have big hair, though.  But don't let her sweet little looks and long eyelashes fool you.  This little girl is fiery.  Vicious, really.  Little Miss Sassy Pants.  And quite determined.  I'm not sure what she is so determined about yet, but hopefully we can help her figure that all out nicely as she grows.  She will fight and fight hard if you dare to offend her.  As her mother, I offend her regularly.  On average, I am told 3.68 times a day that I am a mean mom and that she doesn't like me OR she doesn't love me.  I think she means AND.  I'm glad that I can get a chuckle out of that OR every time.  I think it saves my sanity, what's left of it at least.  Rivers is especially sensitive to her father's interactions with her.  His disapproval is devastating.  Worse than devastating.  He's tries to be very careful with her.  He genuinely thinks her to be a most precious, precious little girl and loves her very much (as he does all his little princesses).  I think he's doing very well.  This is significant because he finds some of her behaviors so particularly irritating that he can hardly stand it.  She is very physical in some ways.  She often walks up to Brian and gives him a good whack for no apparent reason.  I just keep reminding her that it would be more pleasant if she gave Brian a hug or a pat-pat and said, "I love you, Daddy."  Because that is what her whacks mean.  Kids are so strange.  But we were all kids at some point.  It's kind of difficult now, being the adult.  It's so easy to forget how life was when I was little and to be frustrated by my children acting so....childish.  Of course, when all the fiery sort of fizzles out after an explosion, she is left so wilted and meek and vulnerable that you remember that she really is so fragile.  She loves her family so much.  She has a believing heart.  She loves playing with Cumorah.  They play so well.  When they're not fighting.  Obviously.  Another interesting thing about her, while she does like to play outside she is almost always the first to want to come in and just do something quiet and indoorsy.



Sidon is like Dennis the Menace.  And sometimes Calvin.  He is so infuriating and so utterly melts my heart at the same time.  I went to go get in bed one night.  I was tired.  Brian was working nights.  I was surprised by a big mess of purple crumbs all over my bed.  At first my brain couldn't figure it out.  Then I realized that I had given Quincy some purple baby puff thingies in a pot along with a wooden spoon to keep her occupied while I finished making dinner.   Big bro stole the container off the counter and shut himself in my room to devour the rest.  Oh well, I needed to change the sheets anyway.  (Yes, the crumbs were on the sheets.  I don't make my bed much at all.   Just being honest.)  Just tonight I found graham crackers under the play table in the play room.  He did try to confess that one in fears he was going to get in trouble as we have been discussing this issue lately.  We made cookies on Sunday.  The children ate a couple.  I went into the living room.  Rivers came in to tell me Sidon had taken another cookie.  I go in the kitchen.  I see no plate of cookies and no Sidon.  I find him under the table with a chocolate frosting smeared face and what is left of the cookies.  He's smiling his uber charming Dennis the Menace smile.  Seriously, dude.  I was not very happy with him.  Brian thought it hilarious when I told him later.  I think he's proud of his man child.  Last night there was a bit of lightning and thunder in the distance, nothing big, but it was going on while I was tucking all the children in.  It was enough to make the girls nervous.  (Rivers especially doesn't like thunderstorms.  She puts her arms around my neck and holds on for dear life when I go check on her at night when a big storm rolls through.)  I was helping Sidon when we had this conversation,

S:  "We can punch the funder away!"  He makes appropriate gestures.

M: "Wow.  How do you do that?"

S: "We can put on some wings and fly! Fly over and PUNCH the funder!  Like that."

M: "Wow. That is amazing."

Quincy fusses.

S: In his best tender voice, "Oh, don't worry Quincy.  We will punch the funder away.  We can get our wings on and go punch it.  OK? Ok, Quincy? Yah, It's OK."  He nods his head with an understanding smile.

Oh, my boy.  It is just not my fault when you are a grown man and I have a hard time taking you seriously. 



Today I was doing laundry.  I do that often.  I got Brian's scrubs out to the dryer, hung them on hangers and took them to his closet.  When I was walking back I heard the dryer door shut and then I saw Sidon run from the laundry room and into the playroom and under our little reading nook canopy.  He likes to hide under there when he is avoiding me.  I immediately knew something was up.  I went into the playroom.  I didn't see Quincy.  "Where is the baby?", I ask.  He says, "I dunno."  I can only see his feet when he is standing under the canopy.  "Sidon, where is the baby?"  "In the laundry room. Hee."  At this point I realize the significance of this statement.  I knew what was happening.   And I admit, I sort of freaked out a little.  It's just not a very safe habit, shutting your baby sister into the dryer.  Sidon got an earful from me.  And after I had said enough to sufficiently convince him that it was dangerous to put your sister in the dryer, he calmly apologized and told me he wouldn't do it anymore and gave me a hug.  I can see into the future where I am the crazy frazzled mother and he is the calm teenage son who patronizingly calms me down.  Great.   Quincy was a little big eyed when I opened the dryer, but she actually was quite content to play in it.  I think she probably climbed in of her own accord and then Sidon shut it.  In fact, she was annoyed with me when I started throwing the wet clothes in next to her.

Cumorah just lost her sixth tooth today.  I think.  I'll have to check that with her.  Her smile is awesome right now with the gaps and big adult teeth pushing in.  She is so cute and tall and pretty and just way too grown up.  She has been more apt to be goofy lately.  I'm trying really hard not to be annoyed.  She is still a serious child, in many ways.  Still very intense.  She thinks way too much and notices way too much.  I am honest with her.  I answer questions.  I discuss things with her.  I do not like talking to her about kidnappers, but kidnappers are one of her biggest fears.  She has a lot of big fears.  She tells me she has nightmares about kidnappers and then she tells me her strategies for overcoming those nightmares.  She told me once that she knew it was OK if she got "tooken" by kidnappers and killed (What!?!) because she knew that she would come back to me and Brian.  She meant that she knew we were a forever family and that she would be with us in heaven.  And she brought it up recently again and had me reassure her that there are absolutely no kidnappers or bad guys in heaven.  Then she said that sometimes she thinks about what she could think about to remember her mommy and daddy if she was kidnapped.  Really, truly, I don't like hearing these things come out of her mouth.  Where do they come from?  Why is my barely six year old thinking about such terrible things?  But it would be even more heartbreaking to me if she was having these thoughts and dealing with them all by herself because she knew it made me uncomfortable or sad.  Of course, I do not dwell on her fears, I just try to acknowledge them and then help her move on.  She's not always so serious.  She does ask what and why and how a lot.  She is an especially good big sister and a huge help to me.  When it is her week to be dinner helper, I try to have at least one dinner where it is easy for her to help and do a lot of it by herself.  She can make quesadillas and grilled cheese sandwiches.  She loves feeling capable and grown up.  Cumorah just learned finger knitting, and she is addicted.  She is doing well learning how to read.  We are homeschooling.  Recently, she and I went to the library to get her a library card.  You must be at least six to have your own library card.  Cumorah is super proud to have her very own library card.  It was a pretty exciting trip.  Cumorah loves gymnastics.  She is a little jumping bean.  She is so happy and excited during every class that she jumps up and down the whole time.  It's so cute and funny.