Rugrats and Dirty Rugs

Even as a young teenager, I was horribly out of shape. In high school, I had the bright idea of joining the girls' cross country team. During the first practice, the coach said that we would warm-up by running a mile. By the time a fourth of a mile went by, the other girls were little specks ahead of me and I was breathing for my life. I thought I was gonna die. There was no way I was going to be able to finish running the warm-up let alone a three-mile race. I hadn't even gotten half-way. It was a blow to my pride and I was also confused. The year before, our gym class had to run the mile as a requirement. I had failed miserably then as well. I was quite aware that I was part of a very few who could not run the entire time. I didn't get it. I was young and healthy, so why was this so hard for me? Of course, I quit the cross country team never to be seen or heard from again. I thought that was the end of it. I mentally shrugged and thought that there was no way i

We have the oddest pets. Our dog, Leigh, and our cat, Cleo, have become best friends since Cleo joined the family a year ago. They have taken up the habit of cuddling together in the basement while Doc works in his office. Occasionally, Doc will turn around and see Cleo licking Leigh's face clean. Leigh doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she's gotten so used to it that when Doc pets her on the face, she takes her paw and rubs her face as if he has dirtied it again. Odd. Just odd.

Sleepy has a new hole in his mouth. It is always jarring for me when the next one comes to me with, "Mom! My tooth is loose!" My reaction is always, "Already?!" In fact, he had two bottom teeth loose at the same time. I took his little face in my hands and said, "You are growing up, little one." Last night, we were eating dinner when Sleepy announced that he had lost his tooth. He showed me the empty space as proof. I smiled and asked, "So, where's your tooth?" The kid was stumped. He had no idea where his tooth had gone. This reminded me of the time when Bashful lost his first tooth. He came home from school one day with a new hole in his mouth and no tooth to be found. He had no idea what happened to it. So, with his family's help, Sleepy began looking around for it. Bashful was the hero of the day when, on his knees, he squinted at a white speck on the floor and yelled, "I found it!" He handed it to me and Sleepy came

This post is guaranteed to make everyone of you feel sorry for my kids.....or say what a horrible mother I am. Believe me, I'm feeling guilt ridden as I write this. I put three-year-old Happy in the tub to take a bath. I washed him up and since he insisted on staying in the tub to play, I left the bathroom to finish teaching Sleepy his Phonics and Language Arts. As many of you homeschool moms must admit, time can get away from us while we are "having fun". Well, time went by. During his studies, Grumpy had to use the bathroom. He came out a little while later and exclaimed in a loud whisper, "Mom! Happy's sleeping in the bathtub!" He thought this was hilarious. Now, one would think that I would instantly remember that I had left him last taking a bath. This was not the case. My forehead scrunched up in confusion. Poor baby, I thought. He must have been exhausted. I was wondering why the poor child climbed into the bathtub in the first place. I went in

A few years ago, my mother gifted me with a beautiful, black suit. The minute I tried it on in the fitting room, I loved it. It fit perfectly and made me look thinner which I always love. After Mom purchased the suit, she hugged me and said, "Every pastor's wife needs a marryin' and buryin' suit." She would know since she had been one for 25 years. I was quite touched by this and waited for the day when I would truly be a pastor's wife and wear my suit to the appropriate occasions. Saturday was Doc's first funeral/memorial service. The evening before, I pulled out my suit from the back of the closet and tried it on. I looked in the mirror and turned from side to side. I asked Doc, "Do you think I can get away with this?" I rely on his opinion which is totally unconventional among today's woman. I figure the man knows what looks good on me better than I do. When I got the go-ahead from Doc, I was thrilled. I had packed on a few pounds a

I finally got a good look at Bashful and Grumpy doing their swimming lessons last night. The previous two nights, I was too involved making sure Sleepy and Happy behaved themselves and didn't get chlorinated water into their teacher's eyes by splashing too much. I looked across the pool to observe Bashful and Grumpy as they make the trek across the pool. Their swimming instructor was right by their sides. Chuckles started in the pit of my stomach, gathered in my throat, and erupted in giggles out my mouth. Grumpy was doing his front stroke. The kid looked like he was drowning or trying to get away from a shark. Then, it was Bashful's turn. When he turned his face to the side in order to breathe in air, his face resembled that of a person silently screaming with his mouth as wide as he could get it. Bashful's back stroke was much better, but Grumpy was less graceful. When it was all over and we were in the car, I informed Grumpy that when he does his back stroke, h

In the Veggie Tales movie, Pirates Who Don't Do Anything, Larry the Cucumber's character is afraid of everything. He even has a list of things he will have nothing to do with because they scare him too much. If he came across something he was afraid of, Larry would say, "It's on my list." The boys watched this movie to death before we returned it. One night, I told Sleepy to go up to his room and change his shirt. We were going to the swimming pool for lessons and I wasn't about to let him go out in public with peanut butter all over himself. He complained that it was too dark upstairs. Now, you might wonder why he didn't just turn on the light. Well, Mommy Dearest has yet to replace the lighbulbs in the ceiling light, but that would require too much effort. I would have to go into the garage, find the ladder, find the lightbulbs, and trudge everything up the stairs and set to work. For something like that, I would need to do a breathing technique I

For the past three days, we've had snow on the ground. It's kind of nice, but a little unusual. It has also brought with it the cold weather. I have always said to everyone within hearing distance that I love the snow, but I hate the cold. Too many nights I am shivering to death and my toes are like ice cubes. After Christmas, winter always seems long, drawn-out, and dismal. One good thing about the cold is that it just gives me an excuse to curl up with my favorite blanket and drink hot chocolate. Last night, it was no different. Freeze the spit in your throat cold. I also had to take the boys to their swimming lessons, so I made sure they all had their coats handy. When the lessons were over and we left the building, Grumpy was running ahead of me with his coat in his hand. I complained, "Grumpy! It's cold! You need to put your coat on!" Patiently, he replied, "I'll survive this, Mom." That boy is going to be a Navy Seal someday.

One time, Doc came home from work after being gone all day. Sleepy greeted him downstairs. "Dad! You just woke up?! It's dark outside!"

Girls are a mystery in this house. Of course, I'm a "girl", but that doesn't count because I'm just "Mom". Whenever a commercial comes on that is clearly geared toward girls, the boys are disgusted and insulted that they have to sit through something so gross. They all cover their eyes with their hands or a pillow and exclaim, "Eeeuu!" Sleepy has even gone to the point of putting his hands all over the TV or standing in front of the horror flick to hide it until it is over. Occasionally, I will also hear them say contemplatively, "I don't like girls." Sleepy isn't as harsh about it as his older brother, Grumpy. He even asks if they will ever have a sister someday. Grumpy nipped that one in the bud. We were sitting at the dinner table when Sleepy asked his hypothetical question. Grumpy replied before I got the chance. "We are never having a sister. Not ever, ever, ever." Well, I guess that's it, then.

During Sunday School, I was helping six-year-old Sleepy in memorizing a particular verse. As is the case with memorization, we had to recite the verse over and over. During our recitation, I was hearing complaints from the boy like, "Why do I have to do this?" and "I'm only six!" About the tenth time, I looked at Sleepy and asked, "Do you want to do it again?" He thought about it for a minute. He had turned his eyes up to the ceiling and quirked up his little mouth. When he came to a decision, he looked at me and asked, "Why don't we just wait until I grow up?"

Sleepy and Happy are in Stage 1 swimming lessons while Bashful and Grumpy are in stage 3. We have told Sleepy and Happy that if they don't put their heads under the water, they will not be able to go on to stage 2. I have also lowered myself to the point where I have bribed them both with a "special prize" if they put their whole heads under the water for every lesson. In the locker room last night, Sleepy saw a young man either in his late teens or early twenties. He was considerably taller than him and yet Sleepy knew that he was still young. Craining his neck back in order to look way up, he asks, "What number are you?" The man replied, "Um, I'm the swimming instructor."

The boys are currently on a sugar high and completely blissful after a rockin' Christmas party with some of their friends. They are driving me crazy. The cacophonous noise reverberating through the house is enough to wake the dead, although you wouldn't know it since Sneezy is sleeping throughout. You would also think they wouldn't have any energy left to spare after all the holiday games they played at the party, but there it is. Something we adults wish we could bottle up and save for ourselves. At one point during the celebration, Sleepy came up to me with his arms full of his presents, cookies, apple slices, and drink. With a sublime smile on his face, he announced to me, "Mom, this is the best Christmas EVER!" With a smirk, I was thinking, "Wait until you get a load of what your father bought you for Christmas." To be continued....

When my husband joined the Air Force and was sent to basic training, there were a lot of things he had to learn one of which to keep his eyes up...especially in the shower room. He once told me that there were only about eight shower heads to fifty men. I don't know if that's an exaggeration, but it's probably not that much of one. So, there he was having to share a shower head with other guys at the same time. Eeeuuu. So, that's one of the times when he had to keep his eyes up. Obviously. If a man didn't learn to study the walls and the ceiling, he'd get his face bashed in. Thus, to my point of this post. I signed my boys up to take swimming lessons. Last night, it was their first night and Doc and I were thinking about the logistics of getting the boys in and out of the locker room with minimal problems. It was decided that Doc would go with the boys and I would stay with the baby. I did a jig, kissed them all, and shoved them out the door. I had the whole hou

I have picked up a new read, or classic as it may be, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. To my great delight, I have picked up a winner. I have only started it and yet I'm laughing at the wonderful wit and language of Mark Twain's genious. I decided to read it because my oldest son will attempt to decipher its pages for Literature class in the near future. I know he will enjoy the many predicaments and pranks that Tom finds himself involved in. One particular passage has caught my eye so far. In Chapter 2, Tom must white-wash the fence as punishment for one of the many misdeeds he has done recently and he is bitterly morose about the fact that he has to work especially on a Saturday. Along comes a boy and inspiration strikes. He tricks the boy into wanting to paint the fence. One boy after another comes along and he tricks them in turn to paint the fence. This is a very short synopsis and doesn't really go into it that much, but I don't want to give away too much. Th

Last night, I took Sneezy out of his high chair and sat him upon my lap. He had been throwing his food onto the floor and I had about as much as I could take of that. In the meantime, Sleepy was putting black olives on his fingers and pretending to be a frog, Bashful was crawling underneath the table in order to tickle Grumpy, Grumpy was asking in an unusual baby voice if he could have pumpkin pie for dessert, and Happy was actually behaving himself for once. I was trying to teach my sons good manners at the dinner table and wasn't sure if anything was computing. In a split second, the chair I was sitting on collapsed underneath me. Sneezy was quite upset. It probably felt like a carnival ride to such a little person. I handed him off to Doc to be comforted and laboriously rose to my feet. I was quick to point out to Doc that maybe it was time for a new table and chairs.

Denial is a powerful thing. I say that to myself a lot. Probably because I make use of denial often. Like, for instance, when I hear crackling coming from the kitchen and even get a whiff of smoke, I will still tell myself that the kitchen could not possibly be on fire. I was sitting in the living room writing. I was quite distracted and really into my imaginary world. So, when Grumpy wanted lunch, I told him to go ahead and make himself something to eat. He decided to make Ramen noodles. He filled a pot of water, turned on the stove, and went downstairs to continue his playacting and mouth noises. After a while, I came out of the world of my own making to hear crackling. I thought maybe there was a bit of dried food getting crusted over even more or maybe there was a bit of water that was reacting to the heat. I told Grumpy that maybe he should go into the kitchen and make sure the stove wasn't on fire. He ran up the stairs and stopped dead in his tracks. "The stove

During Sunday School hour yesterday, I was going over a particular verse with Sleepy. I wanted him to memorize it and so we worked on it together for a while. During this time, I kept hearing, "Why do I have to do this? I'm only six." After repeating the same verse over and over, I asked, "Do you want to do it again?" to which he scrunched up his face, thought about it, and replied, "Why don't we wait until I grow up?" Imp. (I am also proud to say that I ended up with nothing revolting-looking smeared all over my face. My husband did keep a close eye on that for his accident-prone wife. At one point during the day, though, he brought me one of the earrings that I had been wearing. It was found on the floor and someone had picked it up and asked him about it. Of course, he knew who's earring it was and patiently brought it to me. So, for a little while there, I was wearing only one earring.)

A few nights ago, I had a dream. Actually, it was more like a nightmare. In it, our whole family was staying in one motel room with the dog. (This has actually happened in real life, although we only had three kids at the time.) In my "dream", we were getting ready to leave when we noticed the smell of dog poop. When we investigated, we found a horse pile of dog poop up against the wall under the heater. Doc took one look at it and announced that he wasn't cleaning it up. He was going to leave it for the motel cleaning ladies to deal with it. I was in agreement. I wasn't going near it. I just shrugged and said, "She's your dog." So, as we finished packing up, we all had to deal with the horrendous stench filling the small room. Crinkling up my nose, I took a bag and began filling it with the toys that had been strewn all over the room. I picked up toy after toy. There were toys in the corners, under the beds, and under the blankets and pillows. In fact,

There comes a time when it's not my kids that give me the blog fodder. Yep. Yours truly has provided the tale this time. Yesterday, some very nice people asked me to take some flowers home with me. Due to the lack of space in our seven passenger car, the flowers were relegated to sitting on my lap. Since they were blocking my view and taking up quite a bit of space, we opted to hand them over to a nice couple that Doc was going to spend a few minutes with at their house. After Doc safely handed the flowers to me in the car, he went around and got in the driver's seat. I turned to look at him as he said something and as he saw my face, the man actually recoiled from me in horror. "What is that all over your chin?!" he exclaimed wildly. My forehead scrunched in confusion and I whipped open the mirror above me. I started in horror as well when I saw smears of something that looked like ketchup all over my chin. "Oh! It must be pollen from the flowers!"

I still can't believe that this creature came from my womb. He is utterly perfect and he is irresistible to me and many others as well. He is so beautiful that it hurts to look at him. My insides melt and turn to mush every time I see his face. His skin is translucent. The veins in his temples and even his cheeks are visible through the skin. The skin is pale, but a healthy color, and softer than any material that comes to mind. His cheeks are forever pink giving his face a permanent cheery look. His hair is softer than silk and the color of dark gold. It lays flat across the top of his perfectly round head to gather in curls at the nape of his neck. I run my fingers through it just for the delight of the feel. The features of his face and body are perfectly proportioned. Nothing seems out of place. His nose could be described as a button nose and his mouth is a dark pink rose and oftimes is full of his thumb. His eyes are startlingly blue. They are like gems lit from within. When

We were all sitting around the table during lunchtime and it was a riotous time as usual with everyone speaking at once along with the occasional screech from the baby. Doc was talking with the boys, but I wasn't paying attention since I was focusing on not getting baby food all over Sneezy along with myself and the walls. Therefore, I was quite surprised when Doc grabbed my head, pulled it back, and gave me a long smooch right on the mouth. When I was let up for air, I giggled and looked across the table at Sleepy and Grumpy. Sleepy was grossed out and said, "Eeeuuu! Gross!" I turned to look at Grumpy. His face was a study in shock. At first, he couldn't speak. He wasn't looking at the culprit. He was looking straight at me as if I had done something horrific. He yelled, "Don't EVER do that again!" He then covered his face as if he had seen something that had traumatized him forever. He's gotten over it since then. I think he has repre

It was a cold and overcast morning, but we didn't mind it too much. We were going to see Sarah Palin. I have been keeping track of her on TV even watching the VP debate, so I was very excited to see her in person. So, we all woke up in the dark, wrestled the boys into their warm clothes, and were out the door with a few snacks in the bag for any grumpy stomachs. As we were on our hour-long drive, Doc said, "You know, there's probably only going to be old people and women there." I agreed and we waited impatiently for the trip to end. We arrived at the stadium where the political rally was being held and were stunned by the extremely long line. We made it to the end and began our agonizing wait. When we thought we had reached the point of entry, we were wrong. The line still curved around and around and we realized we had to wait longer than we had anticipated. At one point, I thought of leaving, but Doc said, "We've waited this long," so I shrugged

Yesterday was a glorious day. The weather was perfect for pumpkin picking. I decided to take the boys to a pumpkin farm and meet other homeschool families. Whenever I go on a field trip with five boys, my mind is usually on two things: making sure they behave in public and not to lose them forever. These jobs are really big and take up a lot of room in my brain. In our family, everyone is in his own world including me. Sleepy wasn't looking where he was going at one point during our field trip and ran right into a friend of his who was sitting on the ground. Sleepy went flying forward into the dirt. I made sure apologies were made and brushed the dirt off his jeans. We finally got in line for the hayride and made it to the pumpkin patch in one piece. The boys were having fun picking the perfect pumpkin. My youngest ones were finished in record time, but my two oldest were being picky. I decided to give them time and went over to the pavilion nearby to get out of the hot sun. Here i

As long as I can remember, I've always twirled my hair. I take a piece and wrap it around my finger over and over again. It's a habit that I've never cared to break. When I was in college, Doc would bring me over to visit his grandparents. After a while, I was quite comfortable in that environment and eventually they learned this about me. I was laying on the couch twirling away when Doc's grandpa said, "You twirl your hair!" This seemed to surprise him and he smiled. I smiled uncertainly wondering why this seemed to please him and answered, "Why yes, I do." With a shy smile he announced, "I do it, too. Ever since I can remember." I looked at the receding hairline with a few curls left over and thought how darling it was that we have found something like that in common. Fifteen years have gone by and that sweet man has passed on, but I still think of him whenever I catch myself twirling my hair while deep in thought. This morning, I wa

I often wonder if any of my sons are like me. Lately, I scanned my baby pictures looking for some facial resemblance to my sons and didn't find much. Occasionally, I glimpsed a certain expression and would exclaim, "There! They look like me!", but then I would turn to another picture of myself and think that no, I must be mistaken. I put my baby pictures away with a sad, little sigh. I didn't want to believe that the ones I had carried inside me for nine months and labored through excruciating pain didn't have one iota of resemblance to me. Today, I was enjoying a conversation with Doc upstairs when I heard, "Grumpy!" I must explain that it wasn't a short, sharp yell. It was long and drawn out. It had the feeling of utter exasperation permeating throughout the word. It sounded as if the lungs were expiring as much carbon dioxide out of them as possible. It spoke of anger and frustration. It was spoken by his older brother, Bashful. And he sounded jus

I was speaking with a very nice woman from my church about canning peaches. This tip isn't about canning peaches, but that's where this conversation started. I happen to love the idea of canning. I just don't know how to do it. One day, I keep telling myself. One day. In the meantime, she gave me some tips on how to use the produce that I buy. Of course, freezing the fresh fruit was one of the tips and I confessed that I already knew about that little bit of heavenliness. She wasn't finished. She also told me that I could boil my fruit until it was soft and puree the goodness in my food processor or blender. Next, unroll some plastic wrap onto the counter and pour the pureed fruit onto the plastic wrap. Spread it all out and then let it dry. Cut it into sections and roll them up. Voila! Homemade fruit roll-ups! I have to tell ya'll. I was amazed. For more WFMW tips, go to Rocks In My Dryer .

Every Sunday morning, I wake up at 6am. I have to set the alarm clock because the Lord knows I could never wake up in time on my own. For the past two Sundays, I've been waking up in the dark. Joy of joys. I'm not really complaining. Really. It's just a little disconcerting. It takes coffee and a hot shower to wake up and after a little while, I begin to wake the boys. The experience of waking in the dark has them bewildered, but they are my little troopers. No one cries or complains at the indecent hour. The quietness of the early morning is instantly shattered by the happy chatter. Constant questions repeated over and over are asked in order to jar my sleep-deprived brain into answering. After rushing them through a breakfast of cereal, I hustle them upstairs to wrestle them into their clothes and put some semblance of order to their hair. Brushing of the teeth is a must. By 7:30am, I slam the front door shut with a prayer that I haven't forgotten anything. Most days,

A little known fact about me is I love snow. You probably know by now my love for classic literature and my addictive need for chocolate, but you may not realize my utter fascination with the white stuff that comes from the sky. I eagerly await the season that brings this particular precipitation. When my husband and I first came to southern Colorado, we were utterly dumbfounded when it started snowing near the end of September. We had never seen the like. Snow in September? Crazy, but I was still entranced. I hate the cold, but I realize that without it, there would not be the heavenly frozen flakes falling quietly and gently to the ground. When the snow falls so much that I can't see the ground anymore, I love to go outside and just stand there and listen. It's amazing how quiet it is. There are no birds singing. The amount of cars going by has slowed down and only occasionally do I hear one slashing down the road. The wind has died down and all is still. All but remains is t

My boys love to eat. They are always thinking of their stomachs and what's for dinner. My Happy, though, is the one who is game for everything. He is the one who eats salad while the others turn up their noses. I thought the boy ate everything....I was wrong. A couple days ago, I thought I'd celebrate the beginning of fall and make a batch of pumpkin cupcakes. They turned out pretty good, all moist and pumpkiny. All the boys loved them. Except Happy. The first cupcake ended up nibbled on and placed strategically where the baby could dig his chubby fingers into it and leave crumbs all over the family room floor. The second cupcake was also nibbled on and then hidden in the couch. I told Happy that he wasn't allowed to have anymore cupcakes since it was obvious to me that he didn't like them. He protested. Of course, he liked them. I realized the boy didn't want to not like them. It seemed a sacrilege not to like something that had sugar in it. I assured him it

When Grumpy was just a little guy, we went on vacation to visit Grandma and Grandpa. One night, my mom gave some hard candy to Grumpy to give the rambunctious child something to do. He sucked on it for a little while and then proceeded to choke on the dang thing. This was a life-threatening kind of choke. The kid couldn't breathe. I just sat there in shock, but my mother immediately grabbed him, bent him over her lap, and slapped him on the back. The piece of candy promptly fell out. She told me she had just finished a CPR class and that's how she knew what to do. To this day, I joke with her that she almost killed him and then saved his life. That day became an immediate and profound impression on me. It was something that gave me the knowledge to deal with a very scary situation years later. My fourth child, Happy, was around a year old when he picked up a penny off the floor and popped it in his mouth. We forever have stray pennies that I am constantly picking up. Wh

Baby Sleepy is gone forever. You might say, "You shouldn't say that. He's not gone. He's still there with you." I can't help it, though. I was grabbing papers that had been stashed away in our old van. We needed to clear it out in order to trade it in for the new car. One of the things that had been forgotten was an old picture. The picture was about five years old. In it, Bashful, Grumpy, and Sleepy are all smiling at the camera sitting on the grass in front of our townhouse in New Jersey. Bashful still has that same sweet face. Grumpy looks younger, but I could still see the resemblance. It was Sleepy who made my breath stop in my lungs and I gasped for air. I could not recognize that sweet, baby face. I fought tears as I realized that the baby soft blond hair was gone. The chubby pink cheeks were in the past. These days, I am teaching my six-year-old Sleepy to read and write. The baby fat has melted away and he has become long and lean although he is still

One night, we had friends over for dinner. The meal was finished and the men were cooped up in the den. There was clinking of glasses and smoke was wafting underneath the door. Every now and then, I would hear raised voices and knew they were having a rousing good time talking about theology, philosophy, and politics. I was in the kitchen with my friend and we were also having a good time talking about everything under the sun. My friend was making herself at home in my kitchen. We had already done the dishes together, but at one point, she got down on her knees and began organizing my drawer full of plastic bowls and lids. I was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter and watched her with fascination. My eyes were glued to her every move when I said, "You know, you don't have to do that." She informed me that this was her way of feeling comfortable. I could tell how much she was enjoying herself, so I just sat and watched. When I first met her, I thought she was friend

Every time I look out the windows of our home, I see a great big sky. It stretches for miles and most of the time it is bright blue with a few wispy clouds floating by. Because the sky is so big here, I can always tell when a thunderstorm is on its way or if it's casting its shadow in a different town. The other day, I saw the dark clouds hanging over the mountains in the distance. I was in the family room with Sleepy at the time and I decided to ask him a science question even though we have not discussed this particular subject in school yet. "Look, Sleepy! It's going to rain!" I said with excitement. "Uh, huh," he answers. As we look out the window together, I asked him, "How do you know it's going to rain?" "Because we need rain," he replies. "But, how do you know it's going to rain?" I insisted. "Because God loves me," he answered frankly.

There was a time when I felt guilty for giving my sons chores to do. I know. What was I thinking, right? Right. I don't know why I felt bad whenever I asked them to make their beds or clean their rooms. It was a relief to tell them to clear off the table and empty the dishwasher, but this nagging feeling of guilt wouldn't leave me alone. Not anymore. Those days of guilt are gone forever. I am guilt-free! Why this change all of a sudden, do you ask? I've always known my sons were not perfect. Whenever they get together, they tend to goof off and turn into total idiots. When they get bored, though, that's when they get stupid and all logical reasoning flies out of their heads. I must first set you up for the reason of my guilt-free days. We got a new car. Yep. You can guess where this is going. We like our new car. It seats seven, anti-lock brakes, AWD, you name it. It has the works. We even like the new car smell it has inside. I no longer daydream about falling off the

Today's WFMW is backwards. This is my chance to ask anyone out there a burning question. I must first set the scene, so bear with me. A few days ago, I put a load of laundry in the washing machine. Almost all of the clothes were the boys' except for one of my shirts. I washed the clothes and then put them in the dryer. Later, as I pulled out some clothes to fold them, I noticed that they all had mysteriously changed. What had once been solid colors on shirts and pants, there were now polka-dots- black ones.....everywhere. I found the dad-blasted black pen sitting amongst the rest of the clothes in the dryer. The entire load of clothes had been ruined. Every last piece of clothing had big, black dots all over them. What to do? What to do? I tried washing them again...two times. No can do. I'm wondering if I have the time and patience to sit down with each piece of clothing and spray stain remover on each spot. Aargh! Has this happened to anyone? Are the clothes salvagable? C

Here's a little known fact about me: I hate carnations. Those things are wanna-be roses, people. It's like a knight who wants to be a king, like a lady-in-waiting who wants to be a queen, like a creek that wants to be a river, like jello that wants to be creme brulee, like a cat that wants to be a lion, like a...well, you get the point. Right off the bat, my husband has given me roses from the time that we started dating. It's a good thing because if he had brought me carnations, my estimation of him would have dwindled...just a little. Recently, he found out my aversion to carnations when I loudly protested to his declaration that "carnations are pretty". Don't make me puke.

I have sadly neglected my blog of late.... School has started for us with a vengeance. Teaching three boys, keeping an eye on the impish three-year-old, and passifying a demanding infant is beginning to take its toll. The other day, I was reading something when Grumpy came to me with a question. After he finished his question, I looked up at him. I wasn't really looking at him. It was more like looking through him. When I realized he was standing there waiting for my answer, I quickly blinked and had to think for about five seconds to answer him. Most of the time, I will give the boys something to do on their own. One of them will come to me and say, "I'm done, Mom!" and I will have to wrack my brain and think what it was I told him to do. I can't even remember what people say to me five seconds after they've said it. I do believe I am entering the period known as "dementia".

I had the opportunity to attend my sister-in-law's wedding in New Jersey over a week ago. It was a beautiful wedding on the beach with perfect weather. I packed my sons' clothes with excitement. I had decided that they wear matching oxford shirts and ties and we had gotten matching khaki pants to go with them. They looked so handsome in their get-up and I was very pleased with myself. Considering that I have five boys, you would think that I would have remembered the fact about boys and good clothes- the two don't mix. Since I had conveniently forgotten this, I happily made plans to take lots of pictures of the boys sitting on the sand, perfectly posed with hair and clothes speck free. We made our trek across the sand in order to set up for the wedding. We found the perfect spot and I stopped to bask in the ocean waves crashing onto the beach and the feel of the cool wind coming from the north. The boys had decided to get a closer look at the ocean. Just as I turned away

I have the attention span of a gnat. Having five boys does not help this problem. When things get chaotic, I usually end up staring into space and going for the chocolate. Last Sunday, there was no chocolate in sight. I was speaking with a young woman who had just started coming to our church. We were chatting and getting to know each other. I believe she found out in a real hurry what kind of person I am. She had just gotten finished telling me about her bachelor brother. I looked down at Sneezy in my arms and then asked, "Soooo, do you have any brothers or sisters?"

There are occasions when it is not my children that provide the blog fodder. Case in point- I do my best to be a good wife to my husband. I am fairly new to being a pastor's wife, however, and I'm sure there are going to be a few disasters along the way. The day before church, my husband asked me to bring a glass jar with a stopper in order for him to put the last bit of wine in it from communion. You see, he was going to take it with him to the hospital after church to visit a lady in the hospital. He had to leave the usual wine vial at the church because we were leaving for vacation the next day and were not going to be back for church the next Sunday to return the glass vial. Whew. Well, dag nabbit, I forgot the glass jar. Which is no shocker. My husband comes up to me after church while I'm gabbing away, as usual, to ask me if I remembered the glass jar. My shocked expression gave me away before I profusely apologized for my absentmindedness. Since he was wondering what

My two oldest sons have announced to me that they don't care if they grow up stupid. They hate school and don't ever want to do it again. They have stated before they don't like school and I would ask them if they want to grow up stupid. That was their response. I asked them if they wanted to be those kids that finally get home at 4pm only to have homework to do. They said no which I knew they would. They aren't that stupid. I realized that I will probably hear this same complaint for the next 50 years considering I have three younger sons who will probably be just like their older brothers. In a motherly, irate voice, I replied to this foolish announcement of theirs with, "You ungrateful sons of mine! One day, you'll thank me for teaching you and making sure you don't grow up dumb as a rock!" Previously published on September 17, 2007. Update: School starts in four days. Yippee.

Growing up, I had my head in the clouds most of the time. As a little girl, I would love to dress up as a princess and dream of the day my prince would come. During my dingbat status in the family, I needed a lot of rescuing and my father had to be ready at a moment's notice. During one occasion, I had decided to follow a cute boy up to a cliff and watch him do some fishing. One minute, I'm daydreaming and the next I'm falling headlong into the waters of the Erie Canal. As I'm doggy-paddling in the water trying not to drown, I look up and up and up to see my father diving from the cliff to rescue me. Even though falling in the river had not been intentional, my crush on the boy immediately crumbled in the face of my father's bravery. Of course, I was deeply humiliated by the experience, but I learned a valued lesson about men. I realized that the kind of man that I want would act immediately even in the face of fear. I married such a man and a few years later, he ga

Some time ago, Grumpy came to me with this story. He told me that he and Bashful have a new game that they like to play in the basement. My heart melted and I had a vision of them playing a delightful game of chess together getting along splendidly. He told me that they hit each other over and over again and the first person who cries or complains is a cry-baby. My stomach turned and I was immediately appalled. I think my face turned pale and my eyes widened in horror. Grumpy's triumphant look turned into an unsure one as my quavery voice told him that I didn't like that game very much. Later that day, I huffily told their father what they have been up to lately. He immediately guffawed loudly and crowed, "That's awesome!" My mouth dropped and I looked at him like he was insane. Apparently, this new game of theirs is a good sign that they are not turning into little sissies. I'm coming to understand men more in general having five sons, but it's taking som

When I was a kid, one day I was laying on my stomach on the front porch reading. I had my chin propped in my hands and I was lifting my right leg up and laying it back down over and over again. It was a lazy summer day and I was minding my own business. So, it was a huge shock to feel a bee stinging the back of my knee. I'm sure I gave my mother a heart attack when all of a sudden I open the screen door screaming my head off. Through the caterwauling, she was able to figure out what happened to me and went for the baking soda. My husband also had his share of bee stings. When he was a boy, he was always outside and he had to deal with all sorts of insects attacking him. The weird thing is none of our boys have ever been stung by a bee. I think if we lived in a normal place with grass and trees we would have screaming boys coming in the house all the time. Grumpy is deathly afraid of bees. He saw a stray bee outside near the dog chain and now refuses to chain Leigh up for me afraid

I've been meaning to write about how my husband and I met since without him there wouldn't be a blog in the first place. Our story is just too darn cute. I was 18 and he was 19. Yeah. Babies. We didn't think so at the time, though. I ended up going to college in luscious Florida. It was either there or Oregon. You're probably thinking, well duh. I kept thinking about palm trees and beaches that I couldn't help but pick the place that seemed more relaxing. Before I left for freedom, I promised my father that I would not get married until I graduated. Thinking what kind of head-in-the-clouds kind of girl I was, I may have made a raspberry noise with my mouth and said, "Oh, yeah, sure. No marriage." I really didn't have any plans to go man-hunting. As my parents were driving home back to Ohio, I was meeting my future husband. Four days after I arrived in sunny Florida, there was a scheduled ice cream social. I know, I know. Cute, right? It was a good way

A few years ago, before my youngest son was born, we had a little family of birds nesting in a bush in our front yard. It was summer and the bushes and flowers were blooming. The sun shone and the birds sang. The bush was very close to the window in our living room, so we could observe them very easily and whenever we wished. The baby birds were very young and always had their mouths open waiting for food. The mother had the job of finding them food, but the problem with that was she had to leave them unprotected while doing so. Whenever she left, I would have a feeling of anxiety for those little birds. We would all stand at the window and watch them to make sure they were alright until the mother came back. I often wondered if she took so long because she was pigging out first. Well, it was bound to happen that we would be too busy to watch the babies one day. We were all going about our business when out of the corner of my eye I saw the wings of a humongous black bird flapping craz

My husband has had to put up with a lot over the years. The woman he married is usually in her own world and he usually has to make sure he makes eye contact when making a request. Otherwise, no can do. When we moved into our brand, spanking new house we didn't have a mailbox. So, Doc had to put one in himself. Our son, Bashful, decided to help out with this manly pursuit. So, father and son troop outside with mailbox and wood and proceeded to dig a hole on the left side of the driveway and pound the thing into the ground. Occasionally, I would sneak a peek out the window watching them pound and pound away at the rock hard earth. Finally, they were done and Doc came in sweaty and tired and swearing off mailboxes forever. Or so he thought. I'm sure he had the presence of mind to tell his absent-minded wife not to run over the mailbox, but since I had no deliberate intention of doing so, I didn't have the usual talk with myself about not destroying my husband's hard work.

Have you ever had one of those days where you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole? That's how I feel every time I go grocery shopping. I hate grocery shopping. It is an ordeal for me that I would rather forego indefinitely, but well, we have to eat. I am one of those people that doesn't like to go to every store in the area looking for the best deals. I guess I'm lazy, but considering my aborrhence of it in the first place, I also don't feel I have the time or patience for it. Therefore, I am thankful for the one place that has everything. Wal-Mart. The one stop shop. I had procrastinated about grocery shopping until I had run out of everything but yesterday, I felt the need to visit the store in order to feed my hungry, little ones. I decided a long time ago that to save the most money and stay away from the store as long as possible, I would shop every two weeks and get everything I could in order to survive during those two weeks. I also decided NOT to

School starts on August 18th this year. That's just plain crazy. It's still summer! I think we've all agreed at one point or another that school is starting earlier and earlier each year. Before we know it, it'll be year-round. I thought I would give myself a break from blogging to have a fun time with my boys before the busy-ness of the school year is upon us. So, I am going to set up some of my favorite posts for you to enjoy again. I will be back at my keyboard in no time at all. I am sure I will have more blog fodder for you as well. Take care and see y'all soon!

Antique Mommy is having a backpack giveaway at her blog and one of the things you have to do to get said backpack is to leave a comment telling her about your worst job. I thought that since I have my own blog, I would write a lengthy, boring post about it. So, sit back, kick your feet up, and pop some popcorn. This one is a doozy. When I was in college, I needed a job. At that time, Doc was my boyfriend and he was working at a restaurant as a waiter. He decided to put in a good word for me and I got a job as a waitress there. I was 19 years old and, people, 19-year-olds do not make good waitresses. It takes life experience and learning to multi-task before you make a half-way decent one. Since I had little life experience and my idea of multi-tasking was eating and watching TV at the same time, it took some work to turn me into a respectable waitress. Not long into my job, I was in the kitchen ordering extra white gravy. When it was ready, I turned with it in my hand and ran ri

Last weekend, I had the priviledge of attending a little girl's birthday party. I was excited because this gave me the opportunity to go shopping for a girl. I don't get that chance very often and this was a real treat for me. It took me forever to find a gift. I wasn't sure what to get, but finally, I found it. It looked like a jewelry box, but instead it was for makeup. I thought I would look inside and see how big it was inside the box. As I opened it, three shelves lined with lip gloss, nail polish, and little rings popped out. So did my eyes. I literally gasped. It was like I was a little girl again. I was immediately drawn into the past remembering my love of dress-up and play acting. I grabbed it and went for the check-out. At the party, I had ants in my pants. I wanted to see this precious little girl's reaction to the gift my boys had supposedly gotten for her. I admit I am living vicariously through her. Her reaction was just what I had hoped for.

Happy has the impish inclination to explore the outdoors unbeknownst to his mother. With five boys and my own nature of being in my own world, it is hard to make sure the deadbolt is bolted. So, whenever he has a wont to be outside, he will by all means help himself out. My husband had just left when I go looking for Happy in his room. He was relegated to prison for some reason, but it became quiet and since that is always not a good sign, I thought I'd investigate. He wasn't in his room. I glanced briefly under the bed and when I couldn't find him anywhere else in the house, I took a deep breath and went outside. I searched everywhere and even went to the top of the bluffs calling his name. When Happy didn't answer his mother's calls, I included Grumpy and Sleepy in my search. Grumpy even went to the neighbor's house asking if they've seen him. For five minutes, we looked for that little imp to no avail. I ended up calling Doc totally in a panic. He asked i

Sometimes, my boys will surprise me into laughter. They are always left with dumbfounded looks on their faces as if to wonder, "What'd I say?" Before church started, Sleepy took off his shoe to scratch his foot. I said, "You have an itch, honey?" He replied, "Yep. My shoe was tickling me so I would be happy." After Grumpy's near death experience , we drove into our driveway when he asked me a question. "Mom?" he asked. "Yes, dear?" I replied. "When we lose blood, do we shrink?" He had probably been pondering this question anxiously.

Doc is always regailing me with his childhood adventures one of which involved his bike. He told me he went flying through the air and ended up unconscious for a few seconds. He woke up to see his brother and friends looking down at him. That makes me shudder. Grumpy joined his brother Bashful and the elite group of youngsters who have learned how to ride a bike. His riding skills just need a little tweeking.....like how to ride down a steep hill. Yesterday, we were visiting friends and I was chatting away happily as usual when I was told that Grumpy had hurt himself. I was a little confused because, well, my boys are kind of tough and it's no big deal if they get hurt. I go outside and there's Grumpy on the bottom of the stairs crying and milking it for all it's worth for the benefit of the kids surrounding him. Through various children and disjointed storytelling, I was able to vaguely discern what had happened. Grumpy had borrowed a bike and went riding down the stee

"Whenever I hear the dirty word "exercise", I wash my mouth out with chocolate." I hate to exercise. The thing is, I can't live without food and my metabolism has gone south for the win.....forever. So, I figure if I don't want to turn into a walking blob, I better get myself moving. Years ago, I watched the infomercial for TaeBo and bought the tapes. I remember watching the advanced tape with my mouth to the floor. I was exhausted just watching it. So, whenever I was pregnant, I was happy to let the tapes collect dust. After baby #5, I realized how much I hate diets. Diets are for depressed people. I'm not depressed. I want to enjoy my life. If that means eating chocolate once in a while, then by golly, I'm going to eat chocolate. There's a price to pay for that. You got it. Jumbo thighs. So, I had an epiphany. If I exercise enough and don't eat chocolate EVERY day, maybe I won't turn into a hippopotamus after all. Thus beg

This past year, I've had the priviledge of homeschooling three children at a time. It was my first year with all three. There were some ups and downs, but we managed to muddle through it. I found out quite by accident that Sleepy needed to learn his sounds before his letters. This concept quite boggled my mind. I had no idea that some children are better at learning their sounds first. After I was bonked on the head with this new knowledge, things became a lot smoother for both of us. Grumpy and I butted heads often this past year. His Peter Pan concept battled with his need for an education. If he could live on an island and never learn a thing, he would be happy. The problem is, his brain wouldn't let him. When Grumpy finally learned who was boss, he gave in but sometimes only half-heartedly. I learned that I have to be consistent with him, or he will definitely see a weak spot and go for the throat. I have been pleased with Bashful's progress this past year. I

Like all mothers, I've been wondering how to incorporate healthy food into my children's meals. When I was sick as a dog and pregnant with Sneezy, my mother came to take care of us all for a little while. One day, she decided to make a salad to go with our dinner. I said, "Mom, no one is going to eat that except for us adults." "Well," she responded, "it won't hurt to try it." Lo, and behold, Happy devoured what salad was left in the bowl. I was astounded. I had no idea that any of my children would look twice at the rabbit food let alone eat it. I learned a lesson that day and from then on, I've tried to "sneak" food onto the table without the kids noticing that it is good for them. Lately, I've switched the whole family onto wheat bread. (insert evil snicker) They have no idea. That's the funny part. The bread tastes so good that they've managed to overlook the slight brown color to it. For some reason, no