Ode to Megsy

Clara Margaret (aka Meg, Meggy, Megsy, or simply Princess Margaret, as the sovereign herself occasionally requests) surprised me one morning with the fact that she could read. After some lengthy errands we were hunting for a suitable place to eat lunch.
Clara: “Why don’t we go to ‘Open’ for lunch?” (Pronounced ah-pen.)
“Open?” I said. “Where’s that?”
“Oh, they’re all over the place. There’s one there, and there…” pointing to stores as we passed. As I looked I realized they were all over the place: the car wash was open, the video store was open, the bank was open, etc. We finally decided on an Open that was associated with food.

I admire this little girl. She is a true tomboy, sweetly defined once as “she can rough and tumble with the best of them but wears a sundress like it's second nature.” One of my favorite stories is actually sort of creepy. I was napping one day, along with the rest of the family. I was in a half-sleep stupor when through the daze I heard clip, then a little raspy feminine voice murmur, “Oh, Mommy. You look soooo pretty…” Clip. I practically jumped from my bed to find a wide-eyed Princess Margaret sitting on my pillow with some large scissors and a small pile of long dark hair in her lap. Thankfully my hair was pretty layered then and Michael swore he couldn’t see any holes, that he wasn’t just preserving the life of his only daughter.Meg is the only child I’ve ever had a clear and obvious spiritual prompting on behalf of. I’ve had impressions with the others, to ask a question or to say something, or give someone a hug instead of time-out, etc., but with this one it was obvious. I was stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce for dinner one warm evening in Texas when I had a picture in my mind of Clara falling off the top of our shed roof (15-20 ft. high, concrete below). Interesting, I thought, since she’s in there watching football with Michael and the boys. Thought I’d check anyhow. Of course, she wasn’t watching football, so I ran outside to find little naked, diapered 2 yr. old Meg scaling the fence with one precarious foot on the roof of the shed. Close call. All sets of this girl’s guardian angels are in full swing all the time I’m fairly sure.
Once I called Clara "Muffin" (Michael’s nickname for her). “Um, Mom, could you please not call me that?”
“Why not? Your daddy does.”
“Yes,” she explained patiently, “but he doesn’t make me think he wants to eat me.” I guess one must have a certain degree of instinctual self-preservation when they live in a little pink cream puff body, with honey hair, strawberry lips and blueberry ice eyes. I had to laugh. (And Michael’s still the only one allowed to call her Muffin.)
It suffices to say, I love this daughter of mine. She causes me fits sometimes, and it was clear from minute three after her birth she was going to be our hardest child (this premonition has proven true). But she creates equal parts joy in our family. I hope I can help her decide to be a strong, intelligent, virtuous woman someday. Someday, but today we’ll play with her pet frogs. Below, at swimming lessons just after her 2nd birthday in TX. Watching her was sort of like watching ducklings jump out of their treetop nest. Have you seen that? Well, there's a taste of Clara Margaret!

The Last Laugh

Somebody thought it would be funny to draw a big red wound on his neck and lay in the dark hallway as if he were dead to scare his siblings who were obediently getting ready for bed.

Only problem is #1. it didn't work, they just laughed and stepped on him, and #2. he drew it with a red Sharpie. Michael came up later and found Isaac frantically scrubbing his neck to get rid of the red to no avail.

When he came home from school the next day I asked Isaac what people said about it. "Oh, they'd just ask me what happened to my neck."

"And what did you say?"

"Oh, I'd just tell them I had poison oak."

Wamic, Oregon

Not so long ago, in a galaxy not so far away, a mother decided it was time to take a break from the nonsense of daily grind, and escape into nature. She loaded up her children (dad sadly couldn't come), called school and said they weren't coming, and headed for the far side of Mt. Hood to a little known haven called Wamic. She didn't know exactly what they would find, but was certain it wouldn't have anything to do with Primary or homework. And she anticipated the wholesome musk of horses, the cool skin of little frogs, good company of family, and nighttime skies filled with stars. They were off!

Each day was so much fun the kids crashed before their heads hit the pillows. Isaac even fell asleep on Will's hand this time.

Grandma Mikkelsen took the kids on a death-defying truck ride. They all got to pile in back.

Elizabeth and her baby Scarlett visited for a day. What fun! There's my brother Matt who snuck in the picture behind us. He's always a fun friend for my boys. This really isn't a great picture of any one of us, so I'm wondering why I included it...

Meet Norman. Big Norman.

Miriam, John (good family friend and owner of the ranch) and I went for a long ride in the wilds of Wamic. It was glorious to be on a horse again, even if his name was Norman. Above Miriam and I are parked momentarily beside a stream. Early the next day we took the kids on a long exploration of the stream and a waterfall several acres up. Miriam has those pictures though, so I'll post them when I get them. Oodles of kids, frogs, stick wars, and a snake or two. One of the boys even found a long forgotten hand scythe. Clara took that as proof that pirates had once inhabited that bend in the creek.

During our ride we came to the Cliffs of Insanity. Where's Andre the Giant when I need him? Where's anybody--my sister was no good to me...

...she was roadkill. Can you see the river and trees below? It was a breathtaking view.

Clara, meeting her brand new cousin Esme for the first time. Wish I had a better picture because it was a sweet meeting.

Isaac completely in his element. He's our star creature catcher and found something alive for nearly everybody to keep. We came back with our share of pets, almost all caught by Isaac.

L to R: Ava, Elena, Grace, Clara. That combo equals trouble!

James planting a nice slimey one! After kisses he always says, "Day doo!"

Dinner over (and in) the campfire. The kids came back completely covered in dust and soot, and since we didn't have water at night they pretty much got to sleep in it. I think that fact alone made this adventure all the better.

One of my favorite parts of our little escape was riding with Jacob. After not too much trial and error he got pretty handy with Reno and we had a wonderful time.

Riding lessons for Will. After Jake's and my ride Clara got up behind him, and Isaac took my horse. That was a rewarding moment watching my three oldest ride off on their own little adventure. It took me back to my childhood when we kids would take off on a horse and not come back until we were hungry. A child's paradise. Makes me wonder what I'm doing wasting precious time living in a neighborhood (even though I do love my house and neighborhood). Some day we'll be able to save up enough to buy a piece of land and let our kids grow up with the smell of horses and farm life.

Gracie and Baby Grey cuddle up during a truck ride back to the cabin.

A view of Wamic from a ridge on horseback. It reminded me of why fall is such a favorite season. Thank you, Mom and Miriam especially, for organizing this little trip. And thank you, Bethany, Kathryn and Lizzie, for driving all that way just to see us! And a special thank you to John, for being so gracious with your property and horses and time. Here's the link to my sister Miriam's pictures and version of events.

Want To See Something Gross?

So now when one of the kids says they're thirsty, I'm going to start saying, "You need a drink? Dishwasher's open. You know where to get it."

Halloween

Hope you all had a hippity happity Halloween!

Baby James, the gimpy lion. He was going to be a horse/donkey (depending on who you ask), but his leg wouldn't fit, so we had to make a last minute adjustment.

Mr. Tumnus the fawn dressed as Superman and saving the world one damsel in distress at a time. He took his job VERY seriously.

Our sweet Raggedy Ann. Below is Clara closely inspecting her make-up, thus far.

Isaac as Harry Potter. He was casting spells on people all night long, complete with British accent.

Jacob the wicked Storm Trooper. Surprised any of us survived the war-torn night!

And...the original Maxwell Smart and Agent 99 are on it. Don't you worry about a thing! (At a costume party earlier in the week.)

Of course, what would Halloween be without a huge pumpkin mess?

James, decorating his pumpkin, and his sleeper, and his highchair.



William with his Halloween face on. He drew one half, and we helped him carve the other, but this was his favorite side. That's him upside down.

Clara, with a self-portrait of "when I'm mad."

Isaac was especially proud of the opening in his pumpkin. Very...intricate.

Jacob was hoping everyone would notice that his pumpkin was sick. Can you tell?

Spooky front porch. You had to duck through the cobwebs to trick-or-treat at this house. The kids were delighted every time they heard someone squeal about getting stuck in the webs. Fun night. Too much candy, but fun night.

Broken

Clara's brain.

Baby's leg. Thursday morning whilst I readied myself for errands, baby James Grey was at his usual post leaninging up against the loo. He was watching me and playing with things from the cupboard, when he lost his balance and fell. Big deal, does it 138 times a day. But this time he twisted his leg just wrong. After 4+ hours in urgent care (with 5 children, during lunch & nap time--my supply of stories was completely depleted by the end) the diagnosis was spiral fracture of the tibia. You can see the break best on the front view to the left, but these copies are a little too small. Sorry, if you were interested.

Temporary cast for five days, permanent hard cast for at least 3 weeks. I love how chubby his leg is compared to the bone. Perfect little leg.

Cleaning

Does anyone else have trouble keeping up with their housework? What is wrong with me? I remember once my mom saying that the housework will always be there, but her little boy won't. Yeah, I thought in my sassy teenager-ness, but what good does that do your little boy when he's languishing away with some rare disease he's gotten from the toilet seat or by walking barefooted through the kitchen? Glad I didn't say it outloud, because...

All seventeen of my children are living tornadoes! Two days ago I'd finally gotten to my room and it was spic 'n span...until I decided to do some paperwork for M's office. Since anybody 3-yrs or under HAS to be within a 2-meter radius of Mama, Will and James were playing in my room. Clara, who makes me nervous being outside a 2-meter radius, was encouraged to join them. After about 20 minute's deep concentration making heads and tails of some things I turned around. Explosion of yarn, toys, cars, paper, Halloween costume parts, blankets, pens, crayons, pillows, files, you name it! Where was I for all of this? Who knows? They're tricky! I took a picture as proof, but it made me cry, so I decided to erase it for my sanity.

Later that day, I attempted a deep cleaning of the kitchen preceding dinner. Of course during dinner somebody decided to spill their milk all over, and then somebody else! (Why does it not just spill? Why does it splash onto every surface in that room and the next?). I broke the cardinal rule and, as a good friend used to say, swamp witch emerged. I cried and stomped my foot and, balled fists and everything, threw a grown-up tantrum. My family sat silent as I stormed out of the kitchen. When I came back a few minutes later to apologize for my bad behavior, Jake quietly said, "It's alright, Mom. [apprehensive pause] It was actually kind of funny." And then they all burst into laughter. I couldn't decide whether to spank them all or laugh with them. So I laughed.

A friend of mine was unloading shortly after this incident about how hard it was to get her daughter (only child, Jacob's age) to clean up after herself. "I mean, I feel like that's all I do all day long: clean up after her!"

But no. I'm happy to report my friend is in one piece and doesn't know a thing about the pile-driver I was about to administer. I think the moral of this story is that kids are a lot of work, no matter how many you have. Houses and yards and life are a lot of work. My sister reminded me once that it's not as if we didn't have these kids on purpose. And as my mom unwittingly reminded me, the housework will always be there, but my little ones won't (...as long as they don't get a disease). So that's enough of that.

P. S. Thanks for that first picture, Kristal. I fervently wish I could agree! All things in order, I guess. A clean house can't be top priority, but it's sure a good habit to have.

The Boy Who Kissed His Mother

She sat on the porch in the sunshine,
As I went down the street--
A woman whose hair was silver,
But whose face was blossom sweet,
Making me think of a garden,
Where, in spite of the frost and snow,
Of bleak November weather,
Late, fragrant lilies grow.

I heard a footstep behind me,
And the sound of a merry laugh,
And I knew the heart it came from
Would be like a comforting staff
In the time and the hour of trouble,
Hopeful and brave and strong;
One of the hearts to lean on
When we think that things go wrong.

I turned at the click of the gate-latch
And met his manly look;
A face like his gives me pleasure,
Like the page of a pleasant book;
It told of a steadfast purpose,
Of a brave and daring will--
A face with a promise in it
That God grant the years fulfill.

He went up the pathway singing.
I saw the woman's eyes
Grow bright with a wordless welcome,
As sunshine warms the skies.
"Back again, sweetheart mother,"
He cried and bent to kiss
The loving face that was lifted
For what some mothers miss.

That boy will do to depend on,
I hold that this is true--
From lads in love with their mothers
Our bravest heroes grew.
Earth's grandest hearts have been loving hearts,
Since time and earth began.
And the boy who kissed his mother
Is every inch a man.

by Eben E. Rexford

Jacob, plus some

When you can't say it to your mom's face, do it by making her bed and leaving a note. (It worked, by the way.)
The picture of frugality. I found Jake struggling to do his homework with this pencil the other day. The very end he had sharpened with his pocket knife because it didn't fit into the pencil sharpener anymore. So I took a picture before I chucked it.
And just because I can't resist. Did you see The Office episode last night? Favorite exchange:

Jan: "I had a water birth--more natural transition from the womb," etc...
Kelly: "So you're in the water with all the stuff and everything?"
Jan: "Well, yeah. You know, the afterbirth actually floats."
As Creed solemnly mutters: "Like the tides at Omaha beach..."

Holy cow! What's wrong with me that I couldn't stop laughing until after I went to bed??