My Lovely Alphabet

There are many patterns in life, both natural and man-made.  Some are aesthetic, some are mathematical and some were designed with safety in mind.  Still others are so amazing in their accidental beauty, that it takes your breath away.

One area  in which you must be very careful in starting patterns is in naming your children.  You can get into dicey territory when you have more children than you originally thought you’d have, and you can run short on options.  My maiden name was Jeldness, and both my brother and I have names that start with ‘J’.  Jennifer Jeldness.  Just the alliteration of this name alone earned me nicknames like ‘Jenny Jello-head’ when I was a kid.  Not sure how my brother fared.  But how many more ‘J’s, that sounded good with Jeldness could my mother have come up with?  The Duggars went down this path back when they saw only a handful of children in their future.  But now that they are letting God decide their family size, do you know how hard it is to find 20 names in one letter that you like?  That sound good with ‘Duggar’?  Thank goodness they didn’t start with ‘Q’!

Our family pattern-alphabetical names-started out innocently enough.  For those of you who don’t know my family, they are, in order: Alex, Bethanie, Casadie, Delanie, Emmalie and Fynnlie.  Alex and Beth were born during my tumultuous first marriage, and there were never any plans to expand that family.  Those names were alphabetical completely by accident..in fact, Bethanie’s name was almost Amberly.  But when Alex was little, I would always tease him gently, and say “Mommy should have another baby and name it with a ‘C’, so I’d have Mommy’s ABC’s  Cute, huh?

Cut to several years later, remarried to a wonderful man-with whom I’d happily repopulate the earth if ever a comet decimates the masses.  You’re welcome.  Anyway, this brilliant 1^st child of mine, with a photographic memory (at times) asks his newly pregnant mother “So, are you going to name it with a ‘C’ so you have your ABC’s?  And with that, a pattern was born.  We scoured name books, and found several wonderful options.  When we discovered our precious baby was a girl, we began to narrow the list.  Cassidy was a favorite name from a tv show, so we decided to go with it.  But it needed tweaking.  You see, there was one more pattern to deal with.  I loved that Bethanie’s name ended with ‘ie’, and thought because they were sisters, it would be cute if they matched.  (Boys names do not need to follow this IE pattern.) So I played with it.  Cassidie, Cassadie, Casidie, Casadie, and so on.

Casadie Kimball it was!

And then….

Delanie Kimball

Emmalie Kimball 

Both of these so easy.  One glance at a name book, they popped out and we knew it instantly.  They were both converted to their ‘ie’ versions easily and beautifully.  In fact, I mentioned in a previous post that E’s name was laughingly decided was we drove home from the hospital, with our brand new Delanie in the backseat.  “So, what’ll we name the next one?”  Erickson Kimball, or Emmalie Kimball. Done.  11 months later, Emmalie joined our family.  Eazy Peazy.  No need to go any farther, right?

August 2008.  Decisions to be made.  Go for it, or don’t.  Six is crazy, right? Well, I’d just been through a major hospitalization and surgery, and it was very scary stuff.  My employer’s reaction to my long-term absence was less than positive, and it was causing me to reprioritize my life.  We decided that our children were our greatest joy so why not invite MORE joy into our lives?  So, with decision made, the hunt was on.  “F”.  No disrespect to those out there with lovely and wonderful ‘F’ names.  There’s just a lack of contemporary, feminine ‘F’ options.  Even for boys, Frederick, Francis, Frank, just not our style.  We did like ‘Ford’ for a boy.  But I challenge you, my loyal readers, to find an “F” girls name that could end in an LY or IE.  It cannot be a nick-name as a first name “Frankie, Francie”  I had nearly 300 cast members at Disney involved in working on this. 

We even briefly considered abandoning the pattern…but thought about how the child would feel not being part of the plan.  I also had a friend who was adamant that our patterning was ridiculous, but he was equally appalled that we would consider abandoning it.  I heard this opinion daily.  He still can't say our baby's name without equal amounts of humor and disgust.  His repeated statement.  "I don't support that."

We finally settled on Fynnlie.  It was a choice widely debated, because Fynn is generally listed as a boy’s name, but we do adore it.  Finley is growing in popularity for girls, so it’s not such a stretch to imagine more Fynnlie’s in the world.  In fact, there was a Fynnlie, spelled the same way, born 2 hours after our Fynnlie, in the same hospital.  Our beautiful Fynnlie is a credit to the name.  Always happy, she has taken to the name with grace and finesse.  It suits her.

For those who ask me “So, are you going for a whole alphabet?”  Maybe I am.  Maybe I’ll be the first person on the planet to have 26 kids for the sole purpose of completing a pattern.  For your reading pleasure, here’s a quick rundown of some top choices for the rest of the alphabet.  There are holes here, and this does not obligate me to stick with these choices should the letter ever be needed.

G- (g) Gracie  (b) Grayson

H- (g) Hadlie or Harlie  (b) Harrison

I-

J- (g)Jacie  (b)Jackson or Jaxon or Jameson

K-(g) Kennedie

L- (g) Lexie  (b) Landon

M- (g) Macie, Mallorie, Maralie, McKinlie  (b) Michael

N- (g) Natalie  (b) Nicholas

O- (b) Owen

P- (g) Preslie  (b) Parker

Q- (g) Quinnlie  (b) Quinn

R- (g) Rylie  (b) Ray, Reese

S- (g) Sydnie  (b) Sawyer

T-  (b) Tristan

U-

V- (g) Valarie

W- (g) Whitnie  (b) William, Walker, Wyatt

X- (b) Xander

Y-

Z- (g) Zoie  (b) Zachary

There you have it.  Suggestions for adding to the list welcome! Leave me a comment with any patterns or traditions for naming your children that you’ve followed.  Was it a joy to follow, or did the need to name your child something specific cause you to pause?

Bethanie's Robot

As parents, I’m sure we all deal with unusual requests from our children.  From the simple, “I want all my food to be orange,” to the unfulfillable “Can we visit Barbie in her castle at the North Pole?”  Honestly, I remember circling EVERYTHING in the Sears Wish book, and handing it over proudly to my Mother.  Although, I’m not entirely clear on whether I was actually expecting everything in the book to be under the tree, or if I simply wanted to give Santa a good variety of wonderful things to choose from.

Heck, I’ll even admit that at 15, my best friend and I found a house for sale.  We absolutely felt it was the best idea in the whole world to have our parents BUY US THE HOUSE, and let us live there.  As roommates.  At 15 years old.  Our justification for this request was that we wouldn’t fight as much with our parents if we lived on our own.  We actually thought they’d go for this, or at least I did..maybe Kristin was more realistic.  It was a block and a half from her house, and we just KNEW that her Dad could adequately supervise us from a block away.  There was endless dramatic begging, pleading and reasoning for weeks on end, until the house finally sold to some other lucky buyer, presumably of legal age.  This made our request a moot point, and eventually we lost interest.  Now, to give me credit, I still maintain that at the $30,000-40,000 asking price of 1986, it would have been a good investment. *wink, wink*

Today, with my own kids, I see examples of these unusual requests, but not normally on such a grand scale.  I’ve been asked for two birthday cakes-with two different themes, which was indulgent of us, but doable.  Or we’re asked for another baby sister or even a brother, which is certainly conceivable. *snort*  I even get asked for daily field trips in our homeschool.  Unrealistic, certainly, but easily deferred and replaced by another fun activity.

My oldest daughter, though, dreams big~just like her mother.  15 now, she’s never easily defeated, is pleasantly persistent, and is certainly self-confident and assertive with what she wants.  One day, however, she stated she wanted to build a robot.  She came to me, all of 7 or 8 years old, with a sketch in hand. 

“Mom, I want to build a robot.”

“That’s wonderful Beth! I’m sure you will someday. You can do anything you set out to do when you grow up.” (We have a very supportive parenting philosophy.)

“I want to build it now.”

“Oh.  Ok sweetheart..why don’t you go borrow Alex’s Legos.  I can’t wait to see it!”

“No, I want to build a REAL robot.”~complete with eye roll and pleading voice.

“Oh, I see.  Well, sweetie, I’m not sure how to build a robot”                                        (keep in mind, this is before we homeschooled and I was clueless about ideas and resources.  If this question popped up now, I’d simply log into my yahoo account, slap a question on the homeschool board, and 15 minutes later, I’d have a list of parts, lesson plans, objectives and scope/sequence).

“Why don’t you draw me a picture of the robot you want to build, and we can research how to do it later?” *Big supportive Smiley Face.~see the beginnings of a homeschool Mom here?

“No, I want to build it NOW!”

“Ummm..honey..what do you want to build it out of?” *slightly less supportive, but hopeful for a reasonable response*

“Parts from the junkyard.  We can go buy them right now!” *you can practically hear the Duh Mom in this statement, can’t ya?

“Ummm” *facepalm* (keep in mind, it’s 6pm on a weekday, and Beth has never been to, or even SEEN a junkyard at this point in her young life.  I wouldn’t even know where to FIND a junkyard, nor would any amount of junkyard pieces fit in our then-tiny apartment.)

“Bethanie, sweetheart, we can’t go to a junkyard tonight.  They’re closed.  Why don’t you draw it exactly how you want it, and then build a model out of Play-Dough or Legos, and then we can make a list of what we need and go to the craft store, or the , junkyard in a few days.

“No, I wanna build it now.  Why can’t we go to the junkyard NOW?” (not angry, but honestly confused and pleading.)

“Beth.  It’s late and we don’t know what you need.”

“Wires and metal plates.  And some screws.”  Duh Mom strikes again

“Sweetie, that all seems very reasonable and correct, but first, it costs money.  Second, we don’t know how to connect it.  Third, we don’t have any tools.”

“But Dad has a hammer and a screwdriver.” 

*facepalm*   

This conversation goes on for 20 minutes with me alternately extraordinarily amused by her insistence and innocence, and being ridiculously exasperated at her unyielding persistence.

I’m positive it ended something like this:

“OH MY GAWD, we canNOT go to a junkyard right this minute, for heaven’s sake.  Now, either go draw me a picture of this super-cool robot, or go get your pajamas on-but just drop it ok?????!!??

Quietly: “Okaaay Mom, but can we go to the junkyard before school tomorrow?”

AAAAAAGGGHHHH!

Just think.  If my Mom had bought me that house, I could have used the equity to buy her some highly advanced robot kit from Radio Shack, along with some extra parts from the junkyard.  I think I’ll just blame all this on the stonewalling Kristin and I got from our parents.  Thanks a lot guys, for killing a little girl’s robot dream.  Good job.  *eye roll*

So, what's the craziest thing YOUR kids have ever requested?  Or did you have unreasonable demands as a child that you're only now recognizing as you grow up and understand your parent's point of view?  Anyone letting their 15 year olds live in a nearby home?

Sitcom Shenanigans

You know those over-the-top moments from sitcoms that just don’t happen in real life?  Ponder Lucille Ball stuffing chocolates in her mouth in I Love Lucy, or Joey and Chandler chasing the bus down the street after they left Ross’s baby on the bus?  Things like that never happen right?  Let me share with you one such moment from the Kimball household.

About 5 years ago, so keep in mind I only had 3 children back then.  Life should have have been calm, idyllic, wondrous.  *Snort*  I can’t even WRITE that with a straight face.  So, about 5 years ago, I came home from work in the afternoon.  Bill was going to pick up the baby (Casadie) from daycare, so I just went straight home to spend a few nice moments with my older children.  I brought in the mail, and stood in the kitchen going through it as the kids came downstairs.  We chatted while I sorted junk from bills, none of us aware of what was truly going on in our house.  In our kitchen.  Where we were standing.  Completely oblivious.

Out of the corner of my eye, I sensed movement.  I think I looked once, and then back at the mail.  I would like to believe that I didn’t actually see it, but really, I think I DID see it, but my brain refused to cooperate.  So it took another several long seconds before the movement prompted me to look again.  THIS time, my brain believed.  I understood what was happening.  The ENTIRE KITCHEN AREA WAS FILLED WITH SUDS.  I turned, stared open-mouthed until the kids caught on and also turned to look.  We stood there in complete and utter shock.  Stared at suds that came out from the dishwasher, and slithered along the floor.  It had filled an area about 8 feet wide, and had come about 7 feet out from the dishwasher.  The suds were roughly 4 feet high.  I am not joking.  This means I had approximately 224 cubic feet of soapsuds. In my kitchen.  And growing.  This is not something one just fixes.  First, you panic.  Quietly, so as not to scare the kids.  Then, you bust out laughing, because you realize it’s straight out of a sitcom, and this will make a great blog post someday when you have a blog.  5 years in the future.  Or at least, you can make Stacy, your friend at work, nearly fall out of her chair with laughter when you tell the story the next day.

Next, you turn to your daughter, who very sweetly offered earlier in the day to run the dishwasher for you. “Sweetie..did you start the dishwasher?”

“Yes, Mom..I did.”

“So..sweetie..what did you DO?..I mean..that 300 square feet of suds isn’t normal, you understand..”

“I don’t know Mom..I just put the dishes in, filled the soap dish with Dawn, and pushed start.”

“You. Used. Dawn.”

“Yes, the dishwashing liquid.”

“You. Used. Dawn.  Liquid. Dawn.”

“Yes.”

“@#$%^&&*$!!!  YOU NEVER USE DAWN!! OH MY GAWD.”

“Ok..Mommy is calmer now.  Let’s just clean this up.  Alex.  Go get all the towels from upstairs.”

THIS is when my son chooses to respond very matter-of-factly with “Why should I have to get any towels? Bethanie is the one who did it?!”

Now, when your kitchen contains 400 square feet of suds (I might be exaggerating by now), there’s not a lot of time for a calmly composed lecture of shared familial responsibility, partnership, coming together in a crisis, lending a helping hand to one another, etc.

There IS time to scream.  “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? THE KITCHEN IS FLOODING WITH SOAP SUDS, AND YOU ARE UNWILLING TO HELP??? GET ME THE @#$^$@@ TOWELS NOW SON!”

Much hilarity and enjoyment of a kitchen full of soapsuds was lost amongst this little temper tantrum of mine.  So a word of warning: If you are a 13 year old teenage boy, and your Mom seems pretty calm about the kitchen being filled with soap suds, tread lightly.  Your Mom is probably not as calm as she seems, and everyone working together quickly may help her to stay sane.

Second word of warning.  When your Momma told you that liquid soap is not appropriate for a dishwasher, she was right.  It took 17 empty loads to finally clear the dishwasher of the residue and get back to normal washing.

If only Bill had walked in the door at that moment and said in his best Ricky Ricardo voice..”Oh Jeeeeennniffferrrrrrrr!”

A Day in My Life

I’m often asked “how do you do it ALL??”.  This questions is usually asked in hushed, breathless tones, with wide eyes, as though the cape fluttering behind my back is awe-inspiring, and must be treated with reverence.  If the questioner would look a little closer, however, they’d see the cape is slightly wrinkled, a button is missing from the left shoulder, there’s a pizza sauce stain in the middle, the dog chewed the bottom corner, it’s covered in cat hair, and it smells faintly of baby puke.  It DOES flutter nicely though in a stiff breeze.

The people who ask me that question, never seem to believe me when I say “I DON’T get it all done.  My house is a mess, I’m disorganized, and rather lazy.”  Here is the proof.

12:01am. Since a day technically starts at midnight, we’ll begin here.  I’m trying to get off of facebook, and finish watching a dvr’d episode of Grey’s Anatomy with my hubby.  As I’m still awake and on a buzz from my work shift, I’ll sometimes sit at the homeschool table and try to organize things for the next couple of days.  I’ll flit between that and facebook (I’m addicted) until 2am…..Ok..wait, that just seems like a pathetic start to a “day”, so let’s actually start in the morning.  It’ll be more inspiring.

8:00am. This is when my alarm is set.  Wake up to the pleasantries that are 105.1. Why oh why did they fire Erika??

8:03am Hit the snooze..9 more minutes!

8:12am  Alarm goes off again.  Appliance Direct Commercial is playing, UGH

8:12:01am SNOOZE that guy right off the airwaves

8:21am  Alarm goes off AGAIN. Dammit! Why can’t snoozes be set for 20 minutes? Why 9? That’s stupid!

8:23  Get up, listen at the door.  Silence, means the girls are still sleeping. Score!  Reset the alarm for 9:30am.  Just this once. I NEED the extra sleep today.

9:30am Alarm goes off –hit snooze immediately

9:39am OH ALL RIGHT! I’m UP!  Check to make sure Bethanie is up, she’ll get Fynnlie up and get breakfast started for the girls while Bill and I take our showers.

10:15am –Emerge triumphantly from the room, ready to begin the day! Find the living room in shambles, couch cushions on the floor serving as seats for the girls as they eat their cereal and/or waffles in front of the tv.  Today’s offering is the Karate Kid, (1980’s) version, and it’s near the end.  The girls, still in pajamas (agh!) gather to recreate the signature “crane” move, complete with hummed soundtrack and crowd effects.  I sit down to catch up on facebook and wait until it’s over.  Spoiler Alert** Daniel LaRusso wins the match!

10:30am Begin the first attempts to get the girls dressed. Bethanie has brought down clothes, and Emmalie/Delanie begin arguing which is theirs. They wear similar sizes, so they often want what the other is wearing.  The next 15 minutes will be spent asking, telling, demanding, trading, and threatening.

10:45am The girls are dressed! Wahoo! I am so surprised it’s finally happened, and mentally drained by this process, it’s time for a break.  Let’s upload some photos to facebook and see how many hits my blog has gotten!

11:15am.  Ok, time to get to work.  Call Casadie over to the homeschool table.  Call her again.  And again.  She loves her schoolwork, but she’s been captured by the Nintendo Monster, and is presently obsessed with her DS.  It’s time for spelling, and she’s finally arrived.  This quick list of words *should* take less than 10 minutes, but Fynnlie keeps coming over and reaching up to steal crayons or grab Casadie’s paper off the table.  Bethanie would normally get her for me, but she’s just left to walk to Freedom High for choir, so for now I’m on my own.  Bill’s running an errand to get some milk.  So it’s one spelling word-chase the baby.  Two spelling words-fish crayon out of her mouth, etc.

11:45am- Gather all the girls to read aloud about wasps and scorpions.  It’s on the schedule, and even though the girls find them gross, I feel like they should at least learn some basics about ‘gross things’.  So I forge ahead, over cries of “Ewwwww, that’s disgusting!!” or “I HATE WAPSES!” or “Mom, we’re getting those nests back outside, guess it’s time for Daddy to spray again?”

12:00pm “Yay paint!” The girls can smell paint for a mile away, and they swarm like, well, wasps! They love to paint, so the next several minutes are very pleasant.  Project days are always exciting

12:30pm Put paint away.  Spend the next 20-30 minutes cleaning paint off of paint brushes, tables, hands, baby’s face and mouth, the sliding glass door, and inexplicably, the ceiling fan. (Oh, who are we kidding..I’ve never cleaned the ceiling fan.)

1:00pm OH NO! Forgot about the laundry.  I was going to do 3 loads today.  Make my way upstairs (who builds houses with the laundry room upstairs?? Idiots)  *sigh*, just able to “fluff” the dryer.. Definitely not getting three loads done today.

1:15pm Pull crayon out of Fynnlie’s mouth

1:17pm Watch with relief as Fynnlie finishes her tantrum after pulling crayon out of her mouth.

1:25pm Flop into computer chair. There’s no time to get anything else done before I have to get ready for work, so I pop in a “Signing Time with Alex and Leah” in.  All of the girls enjoy learning sign, but Delanie is REALLY getting into signing.  Make mental note to try and find an actual class for her.

2:00pm Eat lunch.  Mental prep time for work.  Hard to prep oneself for complete and utter rejection and spewed hatred for 6.5 hours, but I do my best.

3:15pm Leave for work.  At the door, I must submit to Kissy-Huggy requests from 3 of my girls, try to keep Fynnlie from escaping, and bark last minute suggestions and requests at Bethanie for her evening with the girls.

4:00pm Work starts with group cheers, challenges to beat the dayshift, or the Las Vegas office, etc.  The adrenaline push is ON.

4:03pm- Log into my first call-answering machine

               2^nd call-“Dammit I’M ON THE DO NOT CALL LIST!!!”

               3^rd call- “Not interested!”

               .

               .

               .

               15^th call-“Not interested!” (see any patterns?)

              37^th call- *Might* be interested in Orlando..  “Is it free? If not, burn in hell!”

            102^nd call- Whoohoo..finally a sale!

10:30pm Beaten, exhausted, emotionally drained, I take my last call.  OF COURSE this will be the one pleasant, talkative Guest who indicates interest..so I stay on the line for 45 minutes.  More often than not, this will still not be a sale.  Yay for unpaid conversation with someone for 45 minutes. 

11:15-Drive home, grumpy and unfulfilled in my ‘career’.  At least the girls will be in bed when I get home and the house will be quiet.

11:30pm **Those mothers who get their children to bed by 8:00 need to look away (This means YOU Katie!)  Girls are in pajamas, but they convinced Bethanie to put in Percy Jackson and the Olympians at 10pm.  It’s still on, because they stopped and repeatedly played the Casino part, so they could dance to Lady Gaga’s “Pokerface”  At least when they get to bed by midnight, they sleep in, so they still get their 9-10 hours.  I promise.

12:00am- All girls down, and I’m tired, but still wired from my shift.  I’ll just watch a little Desperate Housewives while I check my email and facebook.  But I’ll definitely go to bed by 1am.  I promise.

2:15am- Turn off the computer monitor, set alarm for 8:00am.  Definitely going to get up at 8 tomorrow, so I can start early and hopefully get in a better pattern.

REPEAT-Endlessly.

**This representation of an actual day may vary.  No substitutions, or refunds.  

 

Family Planning-or Unplanning??

There is a dreaded moment in the life of every mother of a large family.  The moment where she has to begin telling everyone that the brood is about to enlarge. Again. Now, don’t get me wrong..it’s a joyous moment to the mother and to the father, and quite often to at least a fair number of the siblings-to-be.  The sharing of the news, however, quite often has a deflating effect, when the faces staring back at you begin to contort into various displays of shock, humor, horror, confusion and fear.  Fear, you say? How could any of the relatives display ‘fear’ when confronted with the happy news of a future grandchild/niece/nephew/godchild, etc.?

            “I now have to buy SIX Christmas presents?  Can I send just one Halloween card, or do I have to take a wheelbarrow into the post office to pick up the stamps?  I guess I better apply for a better frequent flier miles card, because I’m looking at six graduations, weddings, and who knows what else. I realize that I created a college fund for your first two…but we’re just hoping the rest go to community college, right?”  Yes, on some family members, you can actually see the written words of these fears travel across their eyes in the split second before they say “When are you going to STOP??” To this question, I usually just grin and say ominously..”I just don’t know….”   One friend, when told we were pregnant with number 6, just looked non-plussed and said "Of course you are."

            My personal favorite is “Don’t you know what causes this?”  I used to just mutter a bit of unintelligible apology, rather self-conscious in the face of this obvious lack of confidence in my biology knowledge.  I’ve developed a hard outer shell lately though, and now retort confidently “Yes, my husband and I needed a hobby..and boy are we enjoying this one!” or…”You know, you just find something you’re good at in life, and you just keep at it.  Repeatedly.  With vigor.”  So far, this has shut them up every single time.

            Even when the family is not taking a giant leap forward in number, one still has to contend with the questions, the open staring, and even the not-so-subtle counting that occurs when we go somewhere as a group.  Boarding a monorail car at Walt Disney World, I overheard another mother tell her husband “6! They have 6 kids! Look at them!”  We were better entertainment than the Small World ride, and without the annoying song!  If , when talking to people, they manage to get past my snarky “we enjoy and are good at the reproductive process” comments, we’re often asked if we’re 1. Mormon, 2. Catholic 3. The Duggars, or 4. Quakers.  No, no, HECK no, and nope.  I do adore Michelle Duggar and give great props for her patience level, but 19? That’s nuts.  We’ll just stop at 6.  or 7.  Maybe 8.  (You see how this goes.)

            Nothing that people say about our family size gets me too riled.  I know that it’s unusual in this day and age, and I can see the humor in their fascination.  I did get a little bent out of shape when one woman said “Thank goodness my husband is a feminist.”  As if my sweet, dependable husband was forcing me to bear forth his seed.  Ha.  Our decision to have a large family was not planned in advance..but always planned.  None of our beautiful children was a mistake, or an ‘accident’, but a couple of times, they were very happy surprises in timing.  The  3^rd child was a miracle we never thought we’d have after a long bout of infertility. Our 5^th was named nearly a year in advance, as we drove home from the hospital with our adorable and sweet 4^th,  but her arrival only 11 months later was a bit of a shock.  The 6^th was debated, discussed and then we just belly flopped into that decision and out came one of the happiest babies the world will ever know.  The idea of the 7^th is still in committee.  We’re not sure when that bill will reach Capitol Hill.

            Whatever our final family size is, I will continue to chuckle when I overhear the whispers and the rushed counting of heads.  I will accept their disbelief and answer their questions of “How do you do it? I can barely deal with 2!”  I will continue to come up with snarky answers to stupid questions. The bottom line is they are each a valued member of the family and the world, irreplaceable, beautiful, unique, and oh so much fun to create!

So, do you get asked about YOUR family plans? Is your family upset that you stopped with one? Thinks you're crazy for having number 3?  Asks repeatedly if you're going to try for a girl/boy?  Asks you childless friends 'when are you getting started?"  How do you respond?

           

1+5/2*3 carry the one-squared

 

            I’m not a fan of math, it was never my strong suit.  At 38, I’m still counting 7 +5 on my fingers, so I’ll never win any awards, but I find myself doing math every day just talking about my kids.

            It usually starts when I’m out at the store with some fraction of my 6 children.  I’ll be walking along with 3 of the girls, and someone will say, “What a beautiful family…3 girls?? You sure have your hands full!”  What I SHOULD do is smile graciously, and say something witty like “Why thank you, yes I do…this one here is up for adoption!”, while waving my hand wildly over all three.  Instead, I feel compelled to thank them and share that I have 3 others at home.  Without exception, I’m then asked “All girls?”  and that’s when the math starts.  “1 boy and 3 more girls.  I mean 1 boy and the rest are girls.  I mean that I have one son, and 5 daughters, and 3 of the girls are here with me. The boy is at home, eating 2 cans of spaghettios and the 3^rd daughter is with her Dad at the movies.  One girl, oh wait..two girls are probably watching a movie.  No, just the one..the rest are here with me.”  Right about then, the passerby is beginning to glaze over, and I awkwardly stop talking and smile grandly, as if I haven’t just run my mouth like a half-marathon.

            It gets worse.  We live in Orlando, so visits to the local attractions are fairly routine, but still hairy.  Try taking a family of 8 to a theme park.  Factor in the height requirements which leave certain kids out of the mix, add in a few phobias such as darkness, spiders, speed, anything ‘upsides down’ or loud noises, and I never know how many are in our group when the poor ride attendant asks.  I generally start spewing numbers in this fashion. “Umm. 7, I mean 8 with a baby.  No wait, 2 are sitting outside with Grandma” Someone yells from the back “Grandma’s right here!” and then I just say “We’ll take that whole row right there, thanks.”  Most of the time, the attendant agrees with that assessment, and waves us forward with some vague instructions of “Rows 1-6…whatever you want.”

            Forget about those buffets where they charge by children’s age.  Can you even imagine trying to negotiate the front register, let alone the depths of trying to get 6 children through the buffet line and served? No thank you.  “How many?” the cashier would ask me, and I think I’d just stare her down until she let us in for free.  Kind of like a really beneficial Jedi mind trick.  Who cares about getting into Mos Eisley when you can glide right through a Golden Corral?  Sadly, I’m not a Jedi, so the existence of buffet dining is unknown to my younglings.  Thankfully, trying to add up the collective years of my brood is math I can avoid for now.

            The one thing I don’t get to escape is shoe math.  Any Mom knows this one…but maybe not in quite the proportions of a large family.  We’re talking upper level algebra when we deal with shoes.  6 children. 1 pair dress shoes, 2 pairs of sneakers/casual shoes, 1-2 pairs of sandals or flip-flops, boots, specialty shoes required for activities, etc.. and it’s completely out of hand.  “Bill! I need 2 pairs of casual shoes for size 3 girls.  I have one half of 3 pairs of dress shoes here, so if we can find the square root of  shoeville, and factor it by 3, we just might be able to get a pair of sandals on Casadie, and the rest of the girls can wear their socks.”

            At least then, I can count 7 + 5 on 6 sets of toes.

A Theme-Park Thanksgiving Prayer

Dear Lord,

Thank you for this day, as my family and I visit one of the happiest places on Earth. Today, the weather is a perfect 79 degrees with a breeze.

Please excuse me for ramming my stroller into that nice manager lady. I could tell it hurt her, but she managed to hold back tears as she pin-traded with my son.

Please help me to get a restaurant reservation for Thanksgiving dinner tonight...I know I didn't call ahead, but I didn't realize the park would be BUSY!!??!!...I thought people would be at home, eating Turkey where they belong! I really wouldn't want to offer up tonight's prayer over a Turkey Leg and french fries, but I will if I have to.

Please grant us a wish. Any wish. Ears, those lanyard thingeys...or a stay in the Castle. I really don't care which...just ANY of them. My cousin will be jealous! (ok, that's not why...well yes it is, but that can be between you and me.)

Please please please please don't let my daughter find out that they have a beauty salon in the castle!

Please grant Grandma and Uncle Joe the strength to get through the park without an ECV. They lost their driver's licenses for a reason you know. You were there.

Please give the baby the foresight not to drop her sippy cup in the middle of the parade crowds. You know she won't drink from any other cup, and this is HER LAST ONE.

Lastly Lord...please let me give my thanks to all these wonderful Cast Members/Employees who are working today. I know it must be hard being away from their family on this holiday, but it sure is nice of them to take care of mine.

~Guest (as reported by JK)

A "Do-Nothing" vacation

Dear hubby and I took this week off work, originally to move into our newly constructed Engle home. Since that fell through, we thought about giving back the time and just working, but we both needed a break. We envisioned this week as a productive week in which we got projects done around the house, but so far (5 days into it), it's been a "drive-about-town and check-out-other-new-home-communities" vacation. Hubby did get a ceiling fan installed, and we celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary. Our 7 year itch seems to mostly comprise trying to improve our standard of living, and how/where best we could accomplish that goal.

Son A (15)was grounded pretty much for life this week...for hoarding a poor report card, and blatantly lying for over two weeks in an attempt to avoid the inevitable discussion. "Mom, they're having computer glitches..it'll be mailed out soon!" Does he think we're idiots??? OY. Long lists of chores will be compiled this week to help fill the void left by the absence of video games, computer games, email and pretty much anything fun. With Florida having a guaranteed paid college education program, we're trying to get the message across that his C's and D's are costing him a free shot at his future.

Daughter C has taken to drawing pretty obsessively. She's 4, and is going through paper like it's from a renewable resource or something. Pretty hard to explain to a pre-schooler that paper doesn't grow on trees when it, in fact, does. *sigh* Yesterday, she asked me to show her how to draw a flower, and massive flower gardens have been popping up all over the refrigerator and surrounding house areas. Daughter D, not quite 2, is emulating her sister, and also insists on drawing when C is.

Daughters B and E are moseying along in life, just trying to stay out of the way of grounded brothers and flying reams of paper art.

Hubby and I are preparing for the tough return to work next week, and resisting the temptation to claim our remaining 6 weeks of Family leave that we could use in Daughter E's first year!

An introduction....Seriously!

Hello, my name is Jennifer, and I would like to welcome you to my blog. I've thought about starting a blog for a while now, and am finally venturing out into the big, big world. I don't necessarily feel that the world needs to hear everything I have to say, but I guess it's fun to put it out there, at least for friends and family.
Much has happened this year, both good and bad...2007 has definitely been a stressful year. It's drawing to a close, and although there WAS good this year, it will be a year that I'm glad to see gone. Hopefully 2008 will be one of those years I try to hang onto a little longer...

In this blog, I'll try to keep the family updated with stories of the kids, photos and all. Since I'm somewhat opinionated, you'll probably also see my input on the stories of the day, but generally not politics. I'll let those who draw a line in the sand and shout at each other carry on about politics, and I'll just sit here, live my life to the best of my ability, and try to raise good people, and be a good manager, wife, mother and friend.

That said, I'll also complain quite a bit, and will hopefully inject a bit of humor for you. Wish me luck.

~Happy reading....or happy skimming...or happy skipping-over-jenn's-blog-entirely. Seriously.