there I was talking to myself

My twelve year old girl stood in the laundry room doorway last night talking to me while I stood amongst the mountains of laundry, folding towels and flinging kids’ clothes, and mating husband socks (he is the only member of our house who gets the luxury of mated socks) and tried to remember to have patience with her.

I was on the verge of being fired because I hadn’t remembered too pick up something for her, and I should drop everything and take her to the store for it immediately!

Regardless that I was in my robe and it was 9:30 pm and by that late I am on auto pilot and practically sleepwalking…

‘But mom! The store is still open!’

‘I won’t have anything to eat for lunch tomorrow!’

Nevermind that I got groceries that day, including the same regular lunch food they’ve been eating all year and plenty for everyone.

She had ordered a cute little aqua blue Thermos on Amazon and wanted something hot to put in it.

Not just anything hot, I was full of suggestions for what was already in the pantry.

‘You can take some roasted red bell pepper tomato soup and a baggy of oyster crackers!’

‘Moooommmmm…’ Groans, juts out one hip, puts a hand on it and rolls her eyes at me.

‘I told you I wanted chicken flavor Top Ramen!’

( Amazon and Top Ramen are not my favorite right now)

‘And I forgot! You have to write it down for me!’

Anyway. As I stood my ground with her and listened to her frustration, I just couldn’t help but let my mind wander and feel a sense of nostalgia.

Because in my girl I saw myself.

That was me. In my mom’s laundry room door, the stance, the demands, the eye roll.

Too cool for tomato soup.

Total naivete to a mom’s lot.

She finished with ‘When I’m a mom if my kids need to go to the store, I will take them!’

And I’m pretty sure she took those words right outta my childhood.

All I could say was, ‘Ok sweetheart.’

And I can hardly wait for her to be standing in her laundry room while her very own Miss Royal Majesty Blond Pony Tail Girl repeats the process of a girl growing up.

It’s a beautiful thing.

just life

Evenings after school are packed. Even when there is nothing ‘going on’

We are not in organized sports or piano lessons or other extra-curricular activities.

We just have snack, play, dinner, homework and bed.

Not always in that order.

But it’s always very busy.

Yesterday after the kids were all home I was filling out paperwork for the first grader.

I guess his teacher thinks he qualifies for the ‘HIghly capable’ class.

The questions were actually a little hysterical to me, and my answers felt equally so.

Things about his imagination and does he interrupt to share his ideas and get upset if he is told to put his things away before he is ready etc etc.

All things I thought were normal for all kids.

And this particular kid is the family comedian.

So whatever, I obliged and filled it out.

As I did, the sixth grade girl was showing me an Old Navy add and saying we should get an Old Navy

credit card so we could get this special discount etc etc.

So I was trying to explain about interest and I asked our ninth grade math whiz:

‘What is 18% of 200’?

He replied in an instant ‘Thirty-four’

And I said ‘Thirty four dollars?’

And he replies ‘Thirty-four’

And I say ‘Dollars?’

I am just asking in shorthand if I have the decimal in the right place.

And he says ‘What’s taco plus two? Banana!’

Gently reminding me that I didn’t mention the dollars when I asked the question, therefor his answer is 34 and he is not budging, Mr. Technicality himself.

I got the belly laughs over this and I didn’t want to to forget what he said so I made him repeat it and flipped over my paper and wrote it down.

And my sixth grader sweetly reminded me that I was writing on the back of official paperwork.

OOOPS

Then she pointed out that I had gotten his birth year wrong and my own cell phone number.

So there I was in the Elementary office this morning with my twice folded wrinkly document asking the ever professional and stoic office lady if I can get a new one.

To make matters worse she politely asked if she could shred the old one for me.

I quickly folded it and explained I had taken notes on the back of it, and still needed it.

Which left me feeling like the little third grade girl I once was whose cheeks would have turned cherry red when caught passing a note in class.

And I can’t wait to ask Mr Technical Smarty Pants Math Whiz again what 18% of 200 is, because it is not 34…dollars or otherwise.

Mothers' Wisdom

I have learned so many things being a mom for 16 years. Most of my best hacks for motherhood have come from other moms.

We get to take each other’s tips and tricks and use them for ourselves. We get to leave the ones that are not beneficial to us.

It can be seemingly small but it can be a huge help.

For instance, safety pinning the hand towel to the oven door if you have a toddling one year old.

Or how about taking the silverware holder out of the bottom of the dishwasher if you are going to unload or load with the toddler around, because knives.

From one mom I learned that we don’t have to dress our toddlers.

She was watching me wrestle and fight my toddler into clothes and shoes she said ‘Why do you dress him?’ Seemed like a silly question.

But then I thought about it, and I was tired of the battle, and I stopped making him wear clothes, and he ran around in his diaper and he was so happy and so brown and the mail lady called him ‘Tarzan’.

He has since graduated to swim trunks.

My own mom taught me to write love notes to my kids. Some of the kids save them in their special boxes, just like I did.

Another mom taught me to accept help. And why would I think I didn’t need help?

Another mom demonstrated how to help others. She came into my home when I was under a pile of babies and toddlers laundry and dishes and she unloaded the dishwasher and brought me a glass of ice water as I was feeding the newborn, and changed over the laundry and folded a load and ran a vacuum through the living room and emptied out the kitchen sink and changed the toddler’s stink, and began reading books to the lot, all before I was done with baby.

Another mom opened my mind to the idea that doing dishes is enjoyable, and therapeutic, and meditative.

Another mom taught me how to ‘Let go and let God’ when a baby was sick in the NICU and I couldn’t go in, couldn’t hold him, couldn’t feed him, couldn’t help him at all. And it’s amazing for how much we DO for our kids, there is so much more we can’t do. And that’s ok. I know this because another mom shared this wisdom with me.

Another mom taught me to not ‘clean up’ when someone is coming at short notice to visit or have coffee. Just wing that door open with a smile and a hello and allow them to see how lived in our home is. They didn’t come to judge or be impressed. They came because they love me and wanted to see me.

I have learned many of the ‘best ways’ to swaddle a baby.

There was a mom who taught me that babies like to be rocked at different paces.

A mom who showed me a never-fail way to work a burp out of a newborn.

A mom showed me how to make a really good cup of coffee.

Another mom taught me how to put my own needs first.

And yet another taught me how to make sacrifices for others.

One mom helped me realize I get to do what works for me.

A mom taught me the value of good nutrition.

And a mom taught me the value in making homemade donuts with the kids.

I’ve learned some shortcuts from other moms.

Like dress kids for the next day before you put them to bed.

Skip the flat sheet.

Remove the screens before they get ruined.

Get some sunshine.

Use sunblock if you’re going to be in the sun ALL day.

AND

One Jolly Rancher can get a whole basket of laundry folded by a kid.

No nagging involved.

If I can pass one stitch of wisdom on to any other mom it is simply to learn from other moms.

Steal it. Use it. Pass it on.

just another school morning

Today was just another school day in the life of a mother of nine.

There was some moaning and grumbling about getting up.

Not a ton of interaction.

The first girl up was in a tired meltdown because she had no shirt to wear.

’That’s why dad asked you last night if you had everything ready for today.’

’He didn’t ask ME!’ (They’ll get ya on a technicality very time, he asked ALL the kids in the living room at the same time, so right, he didn’t say HER NAME.)

’So you’re telling me that as a middle schooler you were totally unaware until this very moment that you would need a shirt to go to school today?’

That’s when she pulls out the trump card; ‘You’re so MEAN!’

And I just have no argument for that one.

And five minutes later she’s dressed and standing in front of me as I’m scrubbing the bathroom toilet (these opportunities come at the strangest time) asking me to bring her to the bus stop.

So one kid got on the bus.

And one high schooler was waiting for his pants to dry.

And one girl was frying eggs and making toast.

One girl just waited patiently all ready to go.

And the oldest got up last, was ready in record time, and squeezed in time to play a game on his phone.

I dressed the 1st grader all the way to shoes before he even woke. (This takes away a big part of the battle when he starts saying ‘I don’t want to go to school’. )

I carried him downstairs talking the whole time:

’Are you hungry? I’ll get your backpack. What kind of sandwich do you want in your lunch.’

I guessed he’d be an easy one today because he was so sleepy. If I could just get him in the van before he got too aware then getting him out of the van at school would be the only struggle.

I didn’t get that lucky.

While I was helping other kids he sneaked off with his little brother and got very into a fun game and then while everyone else was waiting in the car, he insisted on cleaning up first.

The only time he has ever willingly cleaned up. And it wasn’t just a quick put the game away and let’s go.

I mean he had to round up that last dirty sock in the corner and put it in the hamper.

While I was getting him in, one girl had spilled egg yoke down her shirt front and now we had a new and improved meltdown from a different girl about not having a shirt to wear.

I left without that one.

One girl was very concerned with what kind of chips were in her lunch (store brand chips are so uncool) and what vehicle they were getting dropped off in.
The 15 passenger van is even more uncool than store brand chips.
First she begged to ride in the smaller more passable as cool, older Toyota Highlander.

I didn’t want to make 7 kids squish in there so I drove the biggie.

I had to drop her off on the side of the school, and then drive right past her to drop the others off up front.

That painful middle school pride.

So tempting to honk and wave at her.

I called and excused the whole lot for being late while I was still in the school parking lot and then me and the four year old headed home.

And rides with a four year old make life so grand.

’Mom did you know the thing that’s the most on the earth is grass?’

’If I had a lamb, I would pet it and be so nice to it.’

’Can you make me a wood sword?’

’We need three dogs.’

’I just want pop!’

And on and on and my mind wanders until I hear:

‘Mom if there’s a bad guy, you just cut his bane right here in his neck, this big one-SLICE.’

So ‘bad guys’ beware if you make it past the dog and the frazzled mom with the cast iron frying pan, there is still an attack four year old, with possibly some jujitsu and hand to throat combat training.

Or just older brothers and a big imagination.

And now to get that last resisting girl out the door and to school.

If you know any tricks about getting eight kids to the bus on time, lemme know.


week three of 2020

We finally got some snow this week and school was cancelled for a day.

It was awesome.

When the school called we put the phone on speaker and held our breath while we listened to the automated recording that announced a two hour late start.

And when they called a second time we did the same.

But this time they announced school closure.

Then the kids shrieked and ran to tell any who hadn’t been listening and it was game on.

They had blast.

Fighting over snow clothes and turns driving the four wheeler (until it got a flat tire)

Judging each other’s scoops of cocoa (until we ran out of milk).

Crying in frustration over snow pants turned inside out and stuck on boots.

Getting in and out of snow clothes every half hour.

Going in and out of the house every ten minutes.

And leaving the doors open.

They begged the sun to go away and not melt our precious and fragile couple inches of wet soggy snow.

And asked me every 15 minutes to check the weather app to see if we are going to get more snow.

They helped each other build snow forts and puzzles.

And worked together as a team to make macaroni for lunch. (with some minor disagreements and loud communication.)

’We used all the milk for cocoa, can we use coconut milk instead?’

At your own risk. I’d just add more butter.

About dinner time the hype began to wear off.

The snow clothes were all soaked through.

The coca was gone.

And reminders of school the next day started being thrown around.

Panic about homework set in about bedtime.

They hoped for the snow storm of the century and checked the weather app some more.

Maybe next year.

Thankfully.

We are all out of cups.


vacation from cups

Winter break was full of joy, church, relaxation, fun, socializing, late nights, some sickness, good food, and cups.

It was amazing.

We have a counter space reserved for beverages, the coffee pot and tea pot are there. We have one of those oversized mason jars with a lid and a spout, full (sometimes) of water. During break the kids had free access to cocoa and Russian tea.

And every time they got something to drink they would get a new cup.

Nine kids, a few servings of cocoa each, then some Russian tea just for fun, and then they’d be thirsty after all that sweet. And get a big glass and fill it nice and full and take a few gulps and leave it half full wherever was convenient for them.

There were cups EVERYWHERE, the whole vacation.

Every surface in the kitchen, the dining room table, the living room end tables, the kids’ rooms and even the porch railing. Oh and the bathroom counter.

And the kids did not reuse. They’d take the drink of water and leave the cup on the counter and come back and get a new cup next time they are thirsty. And when cups were gone I’d catch them putting their mouth under the water spout or kitchen sink faucet.

I can’t even do that complex of math, all I know is, we picked up cups nonstop. We would get the kids to clean up too, and the cups would go from the counter surfaces to the sink. And then I would do dishes and they would be in the dishwasher. And then someone would unload and they would be in their respective cupboards. And then they would be all over the counters.

Repeat. For two weeks.

I could have ran the dishwasher twice a day just with cups! It seemed.

And yet we were so busy coming and going that it took me until the end of break to actually realize what was going on with the cups.

It suddenly hit me like woah I have never experienced so many cups in my life, as I was having deja vu loading yet another dishwasher full of cups.

And it brought up memories of them all being little, I love comparing then and now.

Then I filled their cups, and I saved them for the next drink, and maybe even used the same cup for all the kids.

Did any of you other moms notice a cup phenomenon over break?

This week they are back in school. The cocoa and Russian tea are gone.

I am looking forward to a vacation from cups.

Wait...What?!...When?!

So our oldest (of nine) just turned 16 and is getting his license soon, and our youngest is about to turn five..

Wait…What?!…When?!

When did we go from six kids in car seats to six kids who need deodorant? (You may observe I didn’t say ‘wear’.)

When did you go from needing me to hold your hand across the parking lot and into the grocery store, to you heading down the road behind the wheel of a two thousand pound automobile at 50 miles an hour by yourself? (Shouldn’t I come with you?)

I just taught you to tie your shoes, how is it you are standing here trying in vain to explain Rubix cube algorithms to me? (I just pretend to get it, and I love that you want me to understand.)

How did we get from you wanting to be carried, to you heading off to work with your dad to pack bags of mortar and loads of bricks?

How are you in the kitchen making scrambled eggs and bacon for your dad? (The six year old) Get back in the high chair and I’ll play peek a boo and patty cake in between feeding you bites of applesauce and squash.

When did you stop saying ‘Dut da doe..daint do!’ and start reciting the 50 states song?

When did you start caring about clothes and shoes and the brands on them, you were just running around in a diaper with a year round tan line and getting comments and laughs from the mail lady.

How did we get from me protecting you from all things, to you telling me; "‘Mom I can’t even tell you the things they say in the back of the bus, it’s so bad.’ Thank you my darling daughter for thinking you must protect me from the wicked things of this earth. Gulp.

When did you stop singing ‘Skidamarinki dinki dink i love you...’ and start standing shoulder to shoulder with me in the kitchen?

How is it that you no longer need me to lift you up to the sink to wash your hands?

When did stop playing baby dolls and start babysitting real babies?

Wait…shouldn’t there be five little girls around here somewhere that need their hair combed and braided? What do you mean you did it all by yourself?

How are there not four little ones, give or take, coming into our room at night with all the various earaches, and nightmares and bedwets, or just to tell me they have to go potty. (cuz I need to know this at 4 am)

Where is that little newborn cry saying come feed me?

And that little voice gently hollering from the crib in the next room every morning ‘Mom…come get me!’

How did we go from one box of mac n cheese being sufficient for the whole family to a five box pack barely being enough?

When did you guys outgrow the kiddy pool? And start ditching me at the lake to go where I can’t even see you to swing off the rope swing and into deep waters?

Doesn’t anybody need a nap? Or a rockabye? Or a thumb? Or a blankie?

When did your feet begin to reach past your toddler quilt?

When did your clothes start to fall off the toddler hangers?

When did you start fitting into my shoes?

How did we get here? Where was I?

Sometimes I was on the couch with you all piled around and reading book after book for some peace and quiet, sometimes I was hiding with my coffee on the other side of the shed for some peace and quiet, sometimes I was at the kitchen stove with you all gathered around trying to help and making more spills than gravy, sometimes I was a mess of tears on the bedroom floor, not knowing how to be mom to so many little people.

My favorite times, I had ignored the laundry and dishes and vacuuming and dirty windows and muddy porch and taken you all to the park and pushed you in the swings higher and higher and you laughed and shrieked with glee, and I got goosebumps of happiness.

Can we do that again sometime?

We got from there to here one day at a time.

And we will get from here to there the same way.

Well… at least we still have one kid who cannot button his shirt straight. Get over here you precious tiny child and let me do that for you.

It's the most secretive time of the year

So this year we did a new thing and let the kids draw names out of a paper bag for Christmas. They each drew a name and then we took them shopping in pairs to pick out a gift with a limit of ten dollars.

It was such a cute idea at the time.

And in the back of my mind I was little worried about how it would go.

So far so good.

They have had so much fun finding stuff for each other.

With a couple of the shoppers it seemed to be a contest of ‘How small of a gift can you get and how much candy can you get with the remainder of the money.’

Four the four year old boy it was so painful to be in a store FILLED with all the things you could ever want and be told you are shopping for someone else.

So he switched from ‘I want this mom!’ to ‘Mom come here I have to show you something for Savanna..’ and brought me to a Paw Patrol riding toy.

I had to gently tell him his thirteen year old sister wouldn’t be able to ride it.

He never did find anything except what he would want for himself so one of the girls and I found some calligraphy markers and a new sketchbook while he drooled and dreamed.

He did really well picking out a gift for his preschool teacher, or rather he didn’t take his eyes away from all the treats in the Ross checkout lane long enough to object to what his big sister picked out.

After an hour in the store and we loaded up into the car and as he is buckling he says:

‘I want to pick out something or Savanna.’

We convinced him that he would have so much fun wrapping her present and let’s go eat.

And whew he was ok with that.

The fourteen year old boy went off on his own and came back with the ‘PERFECT’ gift for his big brother…and I couldn’t disagree. The kid had been constantly bugging us to get him this thing and here it was. And only a little over the limit.

‘I’ll pay the extra $3!’

That was fine.

There of course had to be the severely indecisive child who ended up with ten ten dollar items in the cart and had to decide on one and then got something completely different anyway.

She also wanted to buy something for everyone and their baby sister.

‘Sure sugar, as long as you’re buying’

‘Aww man…’

The oldest boy just picked up his phone and called home and asked his ‘name’ what she wanted. And she told him even where it was in the store.

Worked for me.

Then we get home with the gifts.

It is the loudest covert operation in history.

The kids waiting at home RUN out to meet the car.

The ones who we have bought gifts for are told explicitly and repeatedly and loudly ‘DON’T COME OUT HERE!’ ‘HIDE YOUR EYES!’

And there is a bunch of discussion at the trunk of the car about how to carry these gifts in while hiding them.

‘Here I can put this one in my shirt…you put these in your pockets…I’ll go get a paper bag…put your coat over that big one..wait what is it? OOOH He’s gonna LOVE that!

‘Are they looking?’

‘Ok you go first and make sure they are not looking and we will go straight to mom and dad’s room!’

We hear more ‘YOU can’t come in here! YOU can! Hurry shut the door!

‘Lock it!’

And some scuffling around.

There is so much excitement and they use way too much tape and wrapping paper.,

They poke their heads out and holler for more.

I don’t ever buy more tape or wrapping paper until we run out and we are using last year’s stash so when they holler I say sorry I’ll get some tomorrow.

But they are not to be deterred. They scrounge up painters tape and washi tape and piece together scraps of wrapping paper even if it doesn’t match and they WRAP those gifts.

After that comes the hinting and guessing and shaking and squishing of the gifts.

And we will see how much is still a secret by the time the gifts are opened.

Tis the season. With kids.

Wash Dry Fling

Laundry laundry laundry, and it’s never ending sequels…

We’ve learned some things as a family of eleven when it comes to laundry.

Number one being if you want to make sure it gets done, do it yourself.

There is a chance if you put it in the dirty laundry basket at ten PM on a school night that it will show up clean and dry and fresh in your clean laundry basket in time for you to wear to school the next day.

There is also a pretty good chance it won’t.

Also if you come into your mom’s room when she is half asleep at ten PM and whisper ‘Mom will you put my clothes in the dryer when you wake up?’, there is a chance she will and you’ll have your favorite jeans to wear the next day.

There is also a chance she could be up in the night with babies and toddlers or any age kid, and sleep right through her alarms. Or hit snooze. Or just completely forget.

I have learned that folding clothes is a waste of my time.

I’ve learned that if I fold the clothes neatly and precisely and teach the kids how to organize their drawers Marie Kondo style, they will think that is so neat for about thirty seconds.

And then they will rummage and scrounge and dig and crumple and toss those clothes on the floor, the chair, the bed, the lamp, and the desk, the very next time they are looking for something to wear.

Hence wash, dry, fling.

When the clothes come out of the dryer I fling them into piles and flop them into their respective baskets.

They sometimes even toss them right back in the dirt laundry basket without wearing them when it’s time to clean up their rooms.

I have learned that I can charge them for non dirty clothes in my laundry, and that rarely happens anymore.

‘Who put this shirt that I clearly remember tossing in your clean basket less than 24 hours ago, and have not seen on a body since, in the dirty laundry?’

‘You can pay me a dollar for wasting my time’ ‘Oh you have no money?’ ‘Perfect I am sure there is a toilet that needs scrubbed.’

And no matter how many loads I have done and how many shopping trips we take, there will always be someone standing in a towel saying ‘I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR!’

We have learned that a preteen girl who has ‘nothing to wear’ is not someone you can reason with, and arguing with one is just begging for tears and tantrums.

I have learned to hide some clothes just for these instances.

‘Oh lookie here a brand new pair of black leggings just sitting on this shelf waiting to be worn by a ten year old with nothing to wear!’

Or if a sister wants to wear another sister’s pants or shirt or dress I can use a new piece of clothing as a bargaining chip, ‘If you let her wear that dress, I’ll give you a brand new pair of leggings.’

Anything ‘brand new’ in a large family if highly coveted. Brand new doesn’t last that long and we are used to thrifting and hand me downs.

Even new socks. Or especially new socks. Especially when they start to care whether the socks match.

One thing I learned is not worth my time is mating socks. All girl socks get tossed in a basket, if you want sock mates, help yourself. We have found hoarded sock pairs in all kinds of random hiding spots in the house. If someone knows of a pair of matching socks, they will go to great lengths to get them.

‘I will give you TWO Dynamitas and half of my bite size Twix, AND you can sleep in my room tonight!’

I love it. Every bit of it.

I love seeing my 14 and 15 year old boys doing their own laundry, not because anyone is making them, or there is a schedule or task chart around it.

Just because they want clean clothes and they know how to go about getting them.

It also saves them from having to search for their clothes, because I usually guess when it comes to which pants or socks or undies go in which boy’s basket, and then I over hear them saying ‘I have your button up shirt, do you have my belt?’

What I also love is knowing that other moms are doing it the same way.

I had a conversation with a stranger while I was getting groceries once.

He commented on my ten pound bag of chicken breasts vs his two pound bag and said something about how I must have a few boys.

I told him yes a few boys and a few girls for a total of nine kids.

‘I was one of nine boys.’ He told me.

And asked ‘Do you have a padlock on your refrigerator?’

His mom did.

We chatted for a bit about large family life and it came out that his mom had taken ALL the boys socks at one point and put them in the bathtub with PURPLE dye.

Voila. No more searching for sock mates.

That is my kind of mama.

Wash. Dry. Dye. Fling.

Traveling With Kids

Nine kids in one car however nice, is never quiet or boring.

We started out with nine kids and unknowingly, a cat. Halfway down the driveway one of the kids hollered ‘STOP! THE CAT IS IN HERE!’

We came to a dusty stop in the middle of the driveway, bid him farewell and gave him a gentle toss back in the direction of the house.

He knows his way home, he is the cat that comes on a walk every day with myself and the two dogs, and sometimes the four year old.

And we definitely did not want that cat in the car, he hitched a ride with us to school before and it was a disaster.

He remained hidden until we were too far to turn back.

Then he screeched and mewed and climbed all over me and the dash and tried to go under my feet while I was driving. We had to pull over and I caught him and made the four year old hold on VERY TIGHT to him the rest of the way home. Not fun. I can hardly believe he didn’t cause a collision with his initial nonsense.

Anyway we carried on without the cat.

We had to make a few stops on the way out of course.

The kids behaved like kids, which means I had to repeatedly remind them to buckle, and then threaten if they didn’t buckle, and put in my ear plugs, to mute all the sounds that kids make in their active communication to each other, along with complaints about who was in whose space, and who was being annoying, and remove them a million times to answer repeated questions.

And turn around every 30 seconds to hand something back or receive a thing being handed, and try to fulfill requests for listening material, and meet demands like ‘TURN OFF THE HEAT IT’S SWEATING BACK HERE!’ Followed not too long after by ‘TURN ON THE HEAT IT’S FREEZING BACK HERE!’

Our first stop was a restaurant in the Columbia River Gorge for dinner.

Every one of the kids got whopping big plates of pancakes with sides of massive homemade buttermilk biscuits and mountainous piles hashbrowns. And the big kids finished what the little kids couldn’t. Shane and I both got meals with unlimited fries. And shared with all those hungry caterpillars.

And yet. Plates are cleared, bill is paid and we hear;

‘I’m still hungry’

Most of the trip was quite enjoyable. No one got carsick. We saw gorgeous countryside, and lots of family.

The way back was equally uneventful. In the last hour of the drive I started a chapter audiobook for the kids. Surprisingly to me, I found a book that all the kids liked, from age 15 down to age 4

Called Doctor Proctor’s Fart Powder. Go figure. They all voted for it.

It worked out pretty well, and I will plan it this way next time we travel, the book still had about ten minutes left when we got home, so I let them finish listening.

On the one condition that they got the van cleaned out.

I heard a lot of ‘PAUSE!’

‘I have to carry these bags in!’

But the van got all emptied out.

And we made it home two hours before an ice storm hit the interstate we were traveling on.

Couldn’t ask for more.

Just Thankful

For Thanksgiving this week we are travelling once again to see family in another state. This means eleven of us, my husband myself and our nine kids will be in the big van together for at least ten ours.

There will for sure be sibling fights, there will for sure be noise, there will for sure be sights to see and car games played and memories made and stories to tell…

When we get where we are going there will be family to hug, luggage to haul in and board games played and lots of good food and a warm fire and more memories made and more stories to tell.

We hope for safe and happy travels, we hope everyone stays healthy, we hope the roads are clear and we hope we do not get lost or have car trouble.

We have had the experiences of sick kids in the car, of driving in white-knuckle, tense shoulder blizzard conditions, we have been lost, and had car trouble in the middle of nowhere and of course everyone can’t be happy all the time.

But we hope for the best.

We are glad we all get to go.

We are thankful for the technology that will get us there.

We are thankful we do not have to rely on our four year old for directions, although that makes for a story to tell too.

We travelled to a niece’s wedding without Shane one year and our youngest girl turned four while we were there.

He called the day before her birthday to visit with her. And I got to hear the four year old’s side of the conversation…

It was something like this:

‘Hi dad….yes….uh huh…are you coming to my birthday?’

I imagine he tried to explain that he was 3000 miles away and even if he left right then, it would be the day after her birthday by the time he arrived where we were.

But to a four year old time and distance are nothing.

I listened and watched as she told him just how to get to her birthday…

With one little hand on the phone and the other little hand waving and pointing in the air she confidently told him:

‘You just gooooo, and then you keep coming, and then you go around the corner, and you turn this way…and you will see a mailbox and a blue house, and we’re right here!’

So simple.

And with that thought and the melancholy feeling that comes this time of year when you have loved ones in heaven, I wonder;

Is that what they would tell us still here?

Would they say ‘Just go… and keep coming…and We’re right here!’?

Because time and distance are nothing to them either.

If you are travelling we hope for as safe and happy of travels as possible and if you are missing someone, we hope you are surrounded by loved ones.

If You Take A Mom Hunting

Prior to this weekend getaway in the forest I didn’t know much about hunting. My husband would ramble here and there about it and I gathered a few things, I got the general idea, but I didn’t really get the draw.

It was about a two hour drive to our camp spot. We never talked about hunting. I never asked any questions, the only topic I remember is why horses have to be put down if they break a leg. (Our puppy recently suffered a broken hip in a minorly traumatic accident so this was on our minds.)

We got to where we’d be hunting and he explained a little about the area. So one side of the road was all legal hunting and the other side was off limits.

The first thing he did when we got out was intently start scanning the countryside with his bare eyes. I was looking too…all I saw was trees trees and more trees. On the ‘legal side’ we didn’t see anything. So we crossed the road to check out the ‘off limits’ side.

He was scanning with his eyes for no more than 30 seconds and he suddenly whispered ‘Right there! Can you see them?’

‘Ummm…no.’

He tried in vain to point them out right in front of my nose for quite awhile before they suddenly started appearing to my eyes. A slightly different color than their surroundings, and about the size of almonds on a hillside to our left.

One of them was supposedly the bull, or male and there is only one per herd, I learned, all the rest are cows, or females.

He said, still whispering, ‘Here, look with the binos’

I quickly learned you don’t look through binos with glasses on, plus it was very hard to get the binoculars to point at what I wanted to see. This is a learned talent I think.

I would look through my glasses, find the elk, move the glasses to the top of my head and peer through the bino lenses exactly where I thought the elk should be and they wouldn’t be there, binos down, glasses on, glasses up to top of forehead, binos on, repeat.

I am quite certain husband was second guessing his choice to bring me along.

But I did finally find, with his help, find that evasive bull with the binos.

I can hardly explain it…it was like out of the hillside emerged THE KING OF THE FOREST.

His antlers were MASSIVE and reaching for the sky. It took my breath away.

‘woah’…I was whispering now too.

Husband says, whispering, ‘ok keep him in your sites, I am going to bugle and you tell me what he does.’

Me whispering, ‘ok’

He bugled with his trumpet thingy, it’s so loud, and he was standing right next to me, and not only can I not wear glasses while I am on bino duty, I can’t plug my ears. That part was not fun.

But…

As I watched, the massive bull elk slowly turned his head toward us, stood up and STARED DIRECTLY DOWN THE BINOS INTO MY EYES.

Me whispering, ‘He is staring right at me…’

Husband whispering, *They have terrible eyesight, he can’t see you, I am going to bugle again, tell me what he does.’

So we go through the ear ringing bugle again, and this time the elk did it BACK.

It sounded way deeper and richer than the artificial bugle and gave me goosebumps.

At this point my arms are going numb from holding the binos up so I let them drop for a tiny break.

The elk returned to almond size again, so disappointing, back up go the binos.

We went through the bugle process one more time, and as I watched him, the bull charged a tree stump with his antlers and started thrashing it, after he let out another impressive bugle.

I related this to Shane and he says whispering still, ‘ok we’re gonna follow this trail to our left and get as close as possible.’

So he took off and I obediently followed in his every step, so attentively that I almost crashed into him when he stopped to bugle again. Throughout the hike he would pause and explain bull elk behavior to me in whispers and I would nod and be impressed and then we would carry on doing the elk super sneak.

Once I started to blurt out a question, forgetting to whisper and he whipped around SO FAST and gave me saucer eyes with his finger to his lips and whispered aggressively; ’They have VERY good hearing!’

OK. Very bad eyes, very good ears, got it.

As soon as we began hiking we could no longer see any elk, only hear them, the vegetation and trees are so thick in these parts. So we are just following the bull’s bugle reply.

My mind got to wandering and pretty soon I was planning a trip here with the girls to pick wild flowers and wondering when we were gonna eat and he came to a quick halt again and whipped around to start walking back toward me..

‘One of the cows saw me and went to alert the herd.’ He sort of explained.

Ok.

And suddenly we heard them start to MOVE OUT.

The entire herd was coming crashing down the hillside…I was frozen, my turn for saucer eyes, and watching to see what husband is going to do. There is nowhere for us to go except down the trail or up a tree and I am thinking ‘Are we being attacked??’

The elk were moving through the thick brush and Vine Maples, as I later learned they were called, like it was field grass, but much noisier.

I finally had to ask if they were heading toward us and much to my relief they were not, they were running downhill and away from us and it soon got quiet.

I am not sure what was loudest, the crashing of the elk, the ringing of my ears from the bugle, or my own heart.

Now what. I guess that was enough excitement for one day, just when I was starting to get addicted. We headed back to the truck, and I might add, his bow.

I think it would be proper to note that we did not have any weapons with us on the ‘off limits’ side of the road. He was strictly just seeing how close he could get me to some elk.

Back to the truck and the other side of the road and he did some more bugling just for fun and got another reply, actually from two seperate elk if I recall.

Then to find a camp spot and set up.

After we got the tent up and fire going and griddle hot Shane made us some steaks and I opened us each a salad kit and a can of ginger ale. It was the best dinner ever.

The setting was the best, a fire, the outdoors, SO QUIET, fresh air, just him and me, and excellent food.

I couldn’t quite finish the steak, and I thought ‘I’d like to bring this home to the dogs..’ But I didn’t want to save any bait for predators so I reluctantly threw it on the fire.

And a few minutes later Shane threw his unfinished juicy fragrant leftovers into the weeds about ten feet from our tent.

Then he began to talk about how good breakfast was going to be and some little sneaking thoughts started going off in my head.

You see, when we were grocery shopping earlier that day, he said he wanted eggs, hashbrowns and sausage patties and OJ for breakfast. He put OJ and sausage in the cart and I told him we had plenty of eggs and hashbrowns at home and I would take responsibility for getting them in the cooler.

So he said: ‘Those scrambled eggs are gonna taste so good in the morning.’

‘Umm’ I started, ‘actually I just realized I didn’t get the eggs in the cooler.’

He quickly said, ‘Oh, well sausage and hashbrowns will be good too.’

'‘Umm’ I said again, ‘actually I didn’t get the hashbrowns either.’

‘Oh.’

‘That’s ok, there is orange juice, sausage and orange juice will be just fine.’

Right.

He just didn’t need to know quite yet that I also forgot to grab the hamburger. For lunch the next day. He probably wouldn’t be so agreeable about hamburgers without hamburger.

Sleeping in the wilderness is amazing. If you bring enough layers.

I was using one of the little boys’ cheap thin sleeping bags because mine was nowhere to be found when we were packing. It’s most likely in one of the ‘forts’ they built and camped in all summer. Nice.

I wore every layer I could get on, including my camo, and I still woke at about 3 AM not cold cold, but not really warm either.

Oh well, I had sausage and OJ to look forward to.

But the actual best part of the morning was the campfire coffee. I had brought half n half and sweetener and was all prepared for my morning cup. (Priorities)

But Shane convinced me to just try it black and it was the BEST cup of coffee I have ever had.

We had another amazing day that ended with us pulling that bow string back and ‘BANG’ shooting us an elk.

Just kidding that’s an inside joke.

But we did ‘run into’ so many elk herds that Shane had to keep telling me ‘It’s never like this’ ‘We come up here all the time without seeing any elk’ ‘You are getting very lucky.’

Cool.

So in conclusion, that was the best date ever and I can hardly wait to go again.

And when I do I’ll remember that elk do not attack us.

And to be as quiet as if the elk are sleeping babies.

And leave the half n half at home.

And double check the food list.

And splurge on a decent sleeping bag.

And hide it in the gun safe.

That’s all.

Why Do I Do This Hobby??

Sometimes when I am on putting comics and stories out for you and I get stuck in some technical difficulty with software or apps, or my internet goes down, or the Ipad crashes, or I lose all my work to cyberspace, or some other thing gets in the way of getting what I need done, or the process is overwhelming or I have to start over or make major changes, or I just look around my life and wonder if creating comics is really necessary, I have to ask myself why I do this.

Is it worth it? Is this how I want to spend the time I set aside for myself?

And the answer is absolutely.

Why? Because I enjoy the fun part of the process so much.

And even with the difficulties I learn a little something every time.

And the more I learn the easier it gets and the easier it gets the more I learn.

Every time anyone shares a new story with me, it makes my day, I get excited about drawing it and sharing it with the rest of you.

I love that people trust me to create a drawing of their story.

I love sharing stories of the kids in my own life.

I love the reactions other people have when I share them.

And even if I never shared them it would still be enjoyable.

But joy and laughter are so much better when they’re shared.

Parenting can sometimes leave me feeling grumpy and discouraged, and to find some humor in it really helps me change my perspective.

Seeing life from a child’s point of view is very refreshing.

Yes sometimes they also say the things we’d rather they didn’t, but even then it makes for a good story.

The stories are so relatable, parents can see their own kids in the stories.

I love this hobby so much because it is therapeutic.

The comics make my kids laugh too, and they get to see how I see them.

The comics make me remember what it was like to be a kid.

They remind me of my priorities.

Kids keep it real.

They keep it human.

They keep it innocent.

And I think we could all use a little more of all that.

Kids Are The Best Thing On Earth

Hands down, the best.

I mean I have definitely been in a situation where I feel like I might trade a kid or three for a nice long vacation in a tropical and quiet place….BUT

Would a vacation call me mom?

Or pronounce David like “Dabid"‘?

Or wear two different shoes, on the wrong feet, obviously.

Would a vacation offer to make you five cups of coffee per hour with the Keurig?

Does a vacation melt me with it’s tears on my shoulder when it finally finds me in a crowded cafeteria?

Or we could insert anything in the ‘vacation’ spot…

But still there is nothing on the Earth that is better than kids.

What else would make a fishing pole with a jump rope and stick and be entertained for an entire afternoon?

Or build a whole ‘store’ using all the empty containers from the recycle bin?

Or spend a whole day cutting up cardboard boxes making everything from a boat, to a flag, to a sword?

Who else would point out the obvious like crooked teeth and nose hairs?

Or freely tell you that your breath stinks?

What else would fill your windowsill with dandelions and special rocks?

Or insist on 15 kisses at bedtime?

Or burry the refrigerator in masterpieces of art?

Just so many reasons kids are the best thing on Earth.

I feel like I could go on for awhile here, but I asked my husband what he thought was the best thing about kids…and he said their unconditional love.

So I guess I’ll finish with that.

We are so lucky to have the unconditional love of these funny little characters.

We Don't Spit

In our house, don’t spit.

Or so I thought.

The other day I was doing my daily duties, scrubbing, tidying, putting away, folding and changing over laundry, etc., while my four year old followed me around, as usual.

He is always there, telling me how to do my job, letting me know what he wants, giving me updates on what all the pets are up to, and asking a million questions.

This particular day, during a quiet moment as I carried a basket of laundry and he followed in my steps, I heard; “hack-pa-tew'“.

I turned around with my brows furrowed and said; “Did you just spit?”

“Yep!” he replied proudly.

“Ok, that is really acky, we don’t spit in the house, on the floor, you need to wipe it up.”

‘Ok.”

I waited for him to wipe it up with a tissue and we carried on.

I truly thought that was the end of that. I know better than to think that, but I did anyway.

A little later the same day, he was sitting on his stool at the kitchen island, I was at the sink with my back to him and I heard it again; “hack-pa-tew”

I whipped around, and found him with his little fist wrapped in the hem of his shirt and vigorously scrubbing the counter.

“Evan! Did you just spit on the counter?!”

“Yep! It was dirty…but it’s not anymore, I cleaned it off!”

“Ok Ev, we don’t use our spit to clean counters, our spit has acky germs, here, you can clean it with a washcloth.”

“Ok” he chirped, and washed away.

The day went on and we had to run an errand in the car, aaaaaand here we go again, it’s quiet and I hear “hack-pa-tew”

I look in my rearview mirror and exclaim “Evan! Did you just spit in my car?” (The asking is a little redundant on my part. Just making sure I’m not jumping to conclusions ya know, maybe that sound could mean something else…)

“Yep!” “I’m cleaning the window!”

“Ev, we don’t use spit to clean anything, anywhere, EVER, OKAY?”

“Okay’ he says agreeably.

A short time later, we are home, I have full arms and am walking across the front porch with Evan close behind.

And, not kidding, I hear “hack-pa-tew” AGAIN.

I whip around, and giving him the big crazy eyes, say very firmly:

“EVAN (MIDDLE NAME)!! WE DO NOT SPIT!!

He stares back, unperturbed and retorts:

“Dad does.”

Groan. And sigh.

“Ok, you’re right, but dad is a grown man, and too old to train…”

“You are my four year old boy, and you are not allowed to spit anywhere in or near the house, or your mom, no more of that!”

“Ok.” He agreed.

So fast forward to the next Monday when a few kids missed the bus, and I had to run them to school.

The first grade boy is giving me a quick hug and kiss before he gets out of the van, and I notice he has a black permanent marker streak across his forehead.

“Hold on kid, let me clean that marker off your head.”

And I scrounge around the front of the van until I find a pack of wipes.

And as it would be, the bag was left open and the last little pile of wipes are completely dried out.

And my water bottle is empty. It is Monday after all.

So there I was, parked in front of school, spitting on a wet wipe and using it to clean my kid’s forehead.

While the four year old watched it all, and he never said a word.