this really happened.

Sometimes right on the heels of a sibling row comes a surprising note of harmony and hopefulness.  Here's another gem from the "I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried" collection:

Elder lad to younger lad: "I like you. I wouldn't have anything to do if I didn't have a brother."

Younger lad: "you would just stand there and cry?"

Elder lad: "no. I'd just sit on the sofa and stare at the fan. Wanna see?"

chatty cathy

Out and about on my own for a little while today while the bambini were having "camp" with my beloved's mother, I found myself having a conversation with the girl who checked me out at Target, who eyed the stack of camo-patterned cargo shorts and pink polka-dotted swim shorts in various sizes and wondered aloud how many children I have.  Upon learning the answer, she divulged that she has four older brothers.  I asked her if they treated her well, and she said yes they did and that she liked to bake cookies for them, which inspired me to tell her that my father (who has three sisters) has long made a point of telling our lads how important it is to take good care of their sisters.  She concurred.

On the way out of Target I stopped for my favorite beverage, a rare indulgence.  As we waited for the espresso to brew, the barista asked me where I was off to from there.  "To pick up my four children," I answered, along with a few pleasantries.  I don't think that was the answer the barista was expecting, though I could be wrong.

At another stop on my list of errands, I had a lengthy discussion with the clerk about the return process for items ordered online and how some people expect the store employees processing said online returns to be "miracle workers" when unwanted items are brought in without receipts or other necessary paperwork.

As I walked out of that store I laughed inwardly at how chatty I had been with these people I'd never met before, beyond the basic friendliness that is characteristic of our region.  I don't consider myself all that great a conversationalist.  I can make fairly decent small talk, but I'm a little rusty from lack of sleep, and my attention is often divided among several entities.  This makes a conversation of much substance more challenging.

Fortunately for me, sometimes it only takes a few words of kindness to leave a lasting impression on another person, stranger or not.  I cherish the opportunities for more lengthy discussions with loved ones, and I hope the few words I can muster in my default soundbyte mode will be ones that uplift, heal, and encourage.

help yourself

Somewhere in the mix of not being a cruise director yet still being present to the littles, there is this idea of cultivating in each of them the art of doing things for oneself.  This takes patient instruction and coaching.*

*she says as one lass flails on the floor upset about having to share a couple of toys while the other tugs on Mama's pant leg demanding to be held while the lads are chasing each other through the kitchen with blunt objects rather than completing some age-appropriate task such as making one's bed or clearing one's cup and plate after lunch, and the collective emotional temperature gets higher and higher...

I have to write about such pie-in-the-sky ideals to keep sight of the long view I try to take, especially when it seems everyone is all out of sorts, with siblings going feral on each other and Mama close to wit's end to try to restore some sense of peace and positive vibe (or endure, at the very least). This does happen, believe it or not, more often than I would like. We all have our moments.

From the beginning, the idea of mothering has a daunting, breath-stealing, overwhelming idea for me to imagine myself being successful executing. Taking a proactive approach to everything from the day's routine to the tending of infants and young children has been my way of trying to do what sometimes seems impossible.

In terms of logistics and efficiency, sometimes it is simply easier to do things for the bambini that they (at least some) can now do themselves because not so long ago we had multiple very young children in need of diapering, feeding, clothing, and just about everything else. Engaging everyone in activities fell right in with these other needs. Given the temperaments of our children and the resulting dynamics, this proactive approach has been necessary.

Now as the bambini are getting a little older, they are finding more opportunities for self-directed exploration and entertainment as well as lending more practical help with household duties like emptying the dishwasher and putting laundry away. They are still very young, but there's a lot they can contribute to the family's functioning well being.  They can also do a lot more for themselves, though they don't always want to, and they play together a lot of the time, though they don't always get along very well.  They still need close supervision, but they don't always need me right next to them, though they don't always agree with me on that point.

Along the way I may have inadvertently deferred their growth in self-sufficiency out of a sincere desire to do something constructive mixed with a little bit of fear of the resulting chaos that comes from a lack of direction/sleep/attention/growing food/whatever. I was doing the best I knew to do at the time, and the experience I have gleaned from that informs the way I manage things nowadays, which may or may not be the same as how I did them in those freaky early days of motherhood.  As we all grow up a little more each day as a family we're each figuring out how to take care of ourselves.  It's all part of the journey, isn't it?  

the happy medium

It's not like I'm trying to be like an activities director on a cruise ship by having a daily agenda with planned activities (and snacks) throughout the day, although there are some definite similarities between managing a brood of young children and captaining a large ship.  I'll steer clear of corny puns (oh, sorry) and leave it at the skipper reference -- although any kind of group maneuver does take a long time to execute.

I'm hoping to find that elusive happy medium between being someone the bambini expect to entertain them and an all-but-absent adult presence in an otherwise kid-ruled space.  My goal is to provide an environment rich with possibilities for the bambini to learn, think, imagine, and create with loving guidance and sincere encouragement -- an environment in which virtues are cultivated by the consideration we show for each other and the obvious primacy of place our faith has in our lives.

It's a proactive approach that does take a lot of work on the front end, but I'm hopeful that we are laying the foundation for a lifetime of exploration, study, and prayer that each of our bambini will feel confident in undertaking as they seek out God's will for each of their lives.

the next chapter

Now that the elder lad is reading independently, we've moved into a new category of books to consider.  While he may read 12 books in a day in order to fill up a reading log, he has also been spotted curled up with some books of longer length and greater depth that he can work through on his own (which he prefers to reading at the appointed time on the agenda).

I'm willing to overlook the shoes on the sofa pillow this one time because he's reading Little Tim.

The children's librarian at our local library branch offered some suggestions for the lad's exploration based on his affinity for Mary Pope Osborne's The Magic Treehouse series that he started reading last summer with his grandmother.  They include the Flat Stanley's Worldwide Adventures series starring Flat Stanley from the picture book by Jeff Brown (by a different author), as well as the Andrew Lost series by J.C. Greenburg about a precocious young inventor who shrinks himself in the course of his scientific escapades.  The lad and his father and brother read several of the Andrew Lost books over the winter.  The Flat Stanley books are now in the queue.  She recommended several others, including a few different mystery series and some science-based ones, both of which seem right up the lad's alley. 

a little light reading

On a recent trip to visit the Chicago family, my dad returned with a sack full of books as gifts from his sister (the younger lad's godmother) for the bambini from -- get this -- a *local* bookshop.  One of the books was Nick Bruel's Bad Kitty for President -- a comedic crash course in politics for the newly-minted chapter book crowd.  Having finished that volume, a few more Bad Kitty books came home from the library in today's haul of fresh books.

While we were at the library this morning, Grandmare suggested the lad try reading Buttons: The Dog Who Was More Than A Friend by Linda Yeatman and illustrated by Hugh Casson.  Apparently it is a favorite among her third graders. 

We haven't seen the movie yet, but we did lay claim to a new-to-us volume of Herge's graphic novel series about a detective named Tintin, a character near and dear to the lads' hearts.

Along with the home library favorites starring Edward Ardizzone's unassuming but heroic Little Tim, some non-fiction tomes explaining the "hows" and "whys" of things, and some denser picture books (including Teach Your Buffalo to Play Drums, a new one by Audrey Vernick, who wrote one of my favorite getting-ready-for-school books Is Your Buffalo Ready for Kindergarten?), the lad also digs The Berenstain Bears and Scooby Doo.

As he nears his seventh birthday and his second grade year, the elder lad is all about helping out.  I'm so glad and grateful that he's also often about reading, even if he may deny it.  When it's on his own terms, he's much more enthusiastic.  With an intriguing and challenging array of books such as these (among others), here's hoping his love for reading will continue to grow.

recorded for posterity

To the almost-seven-year-old elder lad: "would you please unload the dishwasher?"

With no trace of guile he responds "oh yes! I hardly ever get to do this!"

I can fix that.

survey says...

We go through a lot of yogurt in this house.  A lot.  One might reasonably expect our digestive tracts would be the healthiest on the block (such a pleasant mental picture. You're welcome.).  We go through so much yogurt that we ought to try making our own, but we haven't gotten there yet.  Seeing as how the elder lad is always in search of a science project, maybe that should be our next one.

(or maybe not)

The brand of yogurt we buy has a reward system going wherein we enter codes from the yogurt lids and accrue points that can be redeemed for coupons and "freebies" and what not.  Once when I went to enter in a stack of codes, as the lids tend to pile up on the counter before I get around to entering them in, a brief survey popped up before the code-entering screen loaded.  The multiple-choice questions were mainly about how much yogurt we buy and in what ways we use yogurt.  It seemed the most appropriate response to each question was the maximum one -- how much yogurt we go through in a week, if we bake/make smoothies/finger paint with yogurt (just kidding on the last one -- except the toddler), things like that.  My beloved and I got a good laugh out of the survey.  At its conclusion we appeared to be ideal candidates for a "man on the street" advertising campaign for the company.

lapping up "sweet milk" -- the melted frozen yogurt that no one can bear to waste

One way we love to use yogurt is for making our own frozen yogurt -- chocolate, no less.  Here's how we do it...