Matilda can be vain

I bought this little playschool vanity at a yard sale last year for 2.00. It is Lucas and Matilda's favorite piece of kiddie "furniture" although Tilly appreciates it the most. She visits it and practices her facial expressions, has conversations with herself, pretends to be "momma" and barks orders at her brother, and grooms in front of it. I thought I would share these pictures I took in sequences a couple weeks ago.







Of course Lucas can be a ham, too- but he is usually darting from the camera. Here is Lucas wearing his monkey beads.



And sometimes Matilda can be serious. She has such a pretty little face!



Everything with us and the kids is wonderful. They are all good children, and even when they are cranky they are easily soothed and quickly return to joy. They certainly have some limitations that other children don't have, and their patience through this has been astounding. While we make an effort to take them places every weekend and be sure they get to socialize and be out of doors, during the week this is very difficult for me and we still spend most of our time in the playroom. I just don't know how to juggle four children so close in age with such different needs by myself. Lucas and Matilda are very independent and they run, climb and play. Ewan and Rowan are cruising and crawling. We were invited to a party of a friends twins two weeks ago, and the only way I could manage it was the moms of older kids there helped me. Two of them were holding Ewan and Rowan at all times, and I chased after Lucas and Tilly- following them in and out of "bounce houses" and carrying them up the slide. Matilda in particular was shy and wouldn't investigate the play area at first without me holding her hand. Eventually she was more comfortable which was just in time for me to save a friend from Rowan's screams. He was having social anxiety and missing his momma who he could see ut not reach from someone elses arms. The kids all had a good time, but I felt completely wiped out. So worth it to see them have such fun, and so worth it to get a good nights rest for all of us that evening, but without any help, it leaves me at a loss to regularly let them have adventures like this. We have invited my husbands mother to the park with us several weekends and she has refused to go. The last time we went to the park, we went to one with a fence and I chased Lucas and Tilly and tried to get them to stay together, and Duane sat on a blanket and entertained Ewan and Rowan.

All the women I know in situations like we are either have an au pair, a mothers helper, or good quality family help. We live 7 hours from my family. I won't go into my husbands family just yet... I just grieve a bit for my kids... I know that as they age they will love having siblings in such close proximity and our holidays will be fun. But I think their memories of their early childhood will be the playroom walls. At least it won't be television. We do limit their television viewing!

I am sorry if I am being a little down today. We just canceled a vacation we had been looking forward to for months. I am very sad about it, but more sad about the state of my husbands relationships as well as mine with his family. To be honest, there isn't a relationship. We live inside a hornets nest.

The only safe way to be inside a hornets nest is to lay perfectly still while the bees buzz around you and try to keep even your breath slow and methodical. I haven't done a very good job at this. I find I hold my breath as long as I can, and then I sigh loudly, or inhale sharply and am stung again.

All I can do is my best. I am tired of bee stings. From now on, we are going to be on our own. We've been on our own for sometime anyhow, but now this is a declaration of it.

I hope the rest of you are well and happy and enjoying summer!

Keep a good thought for us!

Markers, haircuts, and fathers

I promised to upload pictures of Lucas and Tilly caught "Red handed" (literally) with their markers on the playroom wall. Here is Matilda when I entered the room (with camera!) and said "What are you doing?"



Here is Lucas the next day when I joined in and colored with them (see my flower?). I am a brave woman indeed coloring with washable markers on the walls. Ever try it? Its quite liberating.



I was thinking this weekend about my father. I think the trait I love best about my father is that he is in constant observation of people and the situations transpiring around them. These observations become stories that he tells to those he loves. I think I inherited this quality from him.

Growing up I could remember my father relating stories about people he encountered in immense detail. He would regale us over dinner with tales about people he worked with, men he was friends with and funny antidotes about their experiences, and women he met or knew personally. He often became so caught up with his memories of the event as he related it that he would pause and laugh to himself before he was able to verbally express what he was thinking of- Looking up in the air and silently musing with a barely audible snicker- my father often laughs through his nose, so to someone who doesn't know him, this may sound like he has allergies. :-) This tried my mothers patience- the fact that my father is in on a joke he hasn't shared. Knowing that his stories annoyed her made me try extra hard to be an active listener because I can not bare for anyones voice to fall upon deaf ears. And, I don't believe my father has ever met an ugly woman. Its the latter that impressed endearment of my father upon me. When my father describes a woman, she is not ugly unless she is somehow a sour or sullen person. Otherwise, he manages to see a quality of beauty in all of us. He will describe a womans eyes, a personality he thought was especially becoming, etc. But, what he doesn't mention is age, weight, or color. If you want to know these things you have to ask. And with age he is particularly funny- he will generalize with entire decades at once. He often tells me "Oh, she is around your age" and this could mean she is 25-45 years old! Having a father like this made me especially aware of the charming physical attributes of everyone I met, and allowed me to be able to appreciate beauty. Obvious, and hidden.

I went to Starbucks again this past weekend- for Mother's Day. First, I don't expect gifts for Mother's Day. The great thing in my life is my children and I don't need to be honored for what is a daily gift to me on one particular holiday a year. However, Duane gave me the cutest card with scribbles from all the kids on it (he wrote underneath each in parenthesis who was the author of the scribble sentiments). He also gave me a starbucks gift card. Which I used in spite of my contrary feelings on the subject of receiving gifts on Mother's Day. :-)

My corner was vacant and I had the comfy chair again! And while the background noise of the baristas was kept to a minimum in this far corner of the coffee house, there were two women seated at the table closest to the comfy chairs having an excited conversation. While I was there to read, I couldn't help but make practice of my father's observation skills. One of the women had apparently traveled some distance to see the other friend. I gathered this because her companion was talking of the changes to the area since she had last visited. Both women were Christian- and not in a southern way (everyone here is "Christian") but in active faith way. Conversation was peppered with expressions like "God will provide" and "I trust God to...". I really like people who are attached to their faith and speak of it as if its ingrained in their being, not something second hand which has been passed on by coincidence, not understanding. The local woman was very striking. She had sensual eyes. Dark almond eyes which were framed by an out of date hairstyle- a "bob"- but, it was a perfect way to showcase her eyes and seemed very stylish framing her face. It was rather odd to see a middle aged woman with bedroom eyes in a coffee house on a Sunday afternoon. I envied her that she could be an attractive woman without even trying. Mae West had bedroom eyes. I once read that in her 70's she worked with a 20 year old Rachel Welch and West had asked the director who was more attractive. Thats the sort of self confidence I believe all women should possess! Back to Starbucks- the lady with the lovely eyes faced me so I was able to see her clearly. Her traveling friend had her back to me, so my observations of her was kept to her personality. Which I liked very much because she was a gracious listener and an empathetic friend. Had they not been so animated and expressive I am sure my book would of sustained my interest and kept me from eavesdropping! However, instead I was privy to their lunch break and it gave me an interesting bird's eye view of their friendship. What impressed me was how after only five minutes of awkward pauses and required "catch-ups" they resumed their obviously long enduring friendship and engaged in support to one another and encouragement. They switched back and forth from subjects in a lyrical manor, leaning in or waving a hand to punctuate poignant moments, voices rising and falling constantly, but, keeping in harmony with one another. As if they were singing in a choir. It made me miss having girlfriend's locally, or being able to visit my childhood friends. Surely there is a song I sing with my friends. I wonder what it sounds like.

Once they left I draped myself over the chair in a familiar fashion and immersed myself into a new book for 2 hours.

That evening we went to a local park and then out to dinner. This park was fabulous!!! It had four toddler swings so we were able to let all the babies play at the same time and each of us pushed two at once back and forth.

Ewan is now crawling as fast as Rowan. But Rowan is pulling up and trying to cruise. Silly wee one! He hasn't the balance for cruising so after a few moments he teeters backward and then sticks his lower lip out for effect. He also chases his older siblings around the room wishing to play. Lucas and Tilly have become patient with their siblings and good playmates. Matilda enjoys smooching them. Lucas likes to pretend to feed them with play food bowls and empty spoons (Ewan thinks this is horrible and will screetch if his spoon is empty).

Rowan had to have a haircut. Here is the before:



Here is the little fellow now. Duane has taken to calling him "Frodo Baggins".



Here is Ewan looking very determined in crawling. Duane calls him "BigButt Baggins".



Ta-ta for today!

Pies and musings

This past weekend I made my first Key Lime Pie. I don't want to claim any gourmet status from this. I went with the basic recipe thats all over the backs of boxes, lime juice bottles and sweetened condensed milk cans with a basic pre-made graham crust (I prefer gingersnap crust, but was short on time). But, I did make it my own by serving it with a fresh raspberry coulis made from frozen raspberries and grand marnier. Oh the sauce was as good as the pie! My husband is as much of a pie man as a cake man, but I lean more toward cakes. However, as we approach the southern summer humidity, perhaps I should tweak my recipe selection to include more pies. My mother has the best ice box pie I have ever had!

Ewan is now crawling along with Rowan. Rowan was an early crawler, and Ewan and early sitter but both are now sitting and crawling and a few weeks earlier than Lucas and Matilda did. I credit this to them having the larger playroom now which Lucas and Matilda didn't have... and the fact that "tummy time" isn't nearly as scary the second time around. Or, third and fourth time I should say.

A friend of mine was telling me a story about her mother than has quite effected me. I was telling her how often when people tell me things, I *want* to ask them to stop. For instance, if I know someone and think well of them, I really don't want to hear that five years ago they were a stripper or something. Plus, out of its original context, most past stories about people sound way worse than the circumstances may have been during that time the events occurred that became the source of the original tale. And besides, What does that have to do with them *now*. I guess alot of people relish being included in that sort of ugly gossip, but I don't. It usually makes me feel very sad for the persons past, and then worrying I will now judge them based upon their mistakes. Or repeat the story myself. Goodness knows we have all made mistakes and all of us surely have skeletons in our closets we would prefer to not have dragged out for company!

So my friend was telling me about her mother who passed away a few years ago. She said her mother didn't like hearing hurtful gossip and didn't like hearing what she described as "off color humor". She said when anyone would approach her and begin a conversation with "I heard the worst thing about _____!" her mom would step back, throw her hand up, and say "I don't want to hear it then." Or "I just heard this joke, its a little bit rude but..." her mom would interject "Then you might should share it with someone else".

This behavior was so shocking to me that I had to just sit on it for a week and think. WHY did this shock me? WHY does this sound so strange?

Because I was brought up to always be a polite listener and to not hurt other peoples feelings. I don't know how I became this way- I can't tell you if it was having a mother can be insensitive, or if it was from being told every single person was our "elder" who had earned our respect... all I know is that I have become an adult who listens to garbage they would rather not hear for the sake of avoiding conflict by asking the person to stop including me in their gossip.

And worse, I am involved in triangular communications all the time and those are so unhealthy. Do you know what this is? This is when person B and person C both have a dislike for person A. Person B calls Person C and tells them something Person A recently did. Now these two neither have perspective or unbiase toward A because they both dislike them. Person C engages in gossip and reaffirms the negative experience Person B had. Person B leaves the conversation with even more hostility than they began with toward Person A because they gossiped with a person who "dittos" their feelings.

Or, here is another example. Person B calls you and says "I think you should know what Person A has said, but its in confidence". Person C then hears something very ugly thats essentially hearsay but sworn to secrecy so they can neither confirm or deny the rumor about Person A. And when they are relating something Person A said about you, you are now burdened with the knowledge of a conversation that may have not been intended for you, and unable to confront Person A to ask. Then you grow to hate someone based on gossip you were asked to not confirm.

Its that last scenario thats make me want to pull my hair out. I really don't want to hear anything ugly being said about me, my husband, or my children. I don't want to hear ugly things that *might* be said about us regarding my decisions for our family. If Person A has a problem with me, they need to deal with me directly, and if they are just venting to Person B about me, I perfectly respect that and don't want to know!!!

What happened to discretion?

Both of the previous mentioned types of dysfunctional conversations rely on the third leg- person C- to function.

I initially thought I would just copy my friends mother and start throwing up my hand and asking that the information be relayed to someone else. I haven't been able to do this. Ugh. The lessons from my childhood on being a polite listener are ingrained too deeply.

My current idea has been to undermine the strength of the triangle by not being an active listener. Maybe I can't stop them by throwing up my hand, but perhaps if I become a person who it isn't fun to relay gossip to, it will still stop none the less. This process will be slower, but it may have the same result. And in the mean time I want to work on being more assertive. After all, the reason I don't want to throw my hand up and say "No, please don't tell me this" is because I worry I am hurting the other persons feelings. But, hearing this stuff hurts *my feelings*. Why should I sacrifice myself for the sake of GOSSIP?

Just something I am working on...

It is all hard

Twin Mother Haiku

Two souls in one womb
Three hearts beat together
One mother finds joy ~ Lizzie

I have been visiting twin blogs lately. About 30 in the past two weeks. I have found some delightful blogs- check out Katies Paper Haven in my links, she has time to raise twins and nurture her artistic talents, too! I was so impressed! I am glad to have found her.

I noticed a recurring theme in other twin blogs that just makes me uncomfortable. Not all of them mind you, but roughly half of them (if you are visiting my blog because I commented in your twin blog- I only commented on the blogs I LIKED, so yours isn't one I am venting about). And that is frequent vents about how much harder twin mothers have it than mothers of singletons. All sorts of little antidotes about singleton mommies who have time to diet, stay athletic, dress their babies in 'oh so cute' clothing, drive around in their small sports cars, show off their post pregnancy abs etc etc etc. Very snide remarks.

(I suppose you could take this one step further and mothers of high order multiples of quads and sextuplets could blog about twin moms and how they complain about how hard life is when they have less than half the newborns the mom of quads or sextuplets has.)

I have to say that I really can't tell that raising two sets of twins is any harder than other moms have it raising a larger family. I take that back- both my grandmothers had four daughters and spaced their birth order out far enough that their eldest daughters could help with the newest babies. That was savvy parenting, in my opinion! But in general, we seem to share the same challenges, joys, and lack of sleep and "me time".

Everyones parenting choices and the way they decide to build their families will have pros and cons. Everyone has luxuries and everyone has made concessions and sacrifices. Whenever I find myself leaning toward feeling jealousy of another mother, I try and put myself in their situation looking in on *me*. It is funny how from an outside perspective you can often see your own experiences anew. Reminds me of a friend of mine... when she learned I was having a second set of twins she said "Four babies and only having to be pregnant TWICE, oh wow are you lucky!". Before she said this I had been feeling overwhelmed and frightened. Hearing her naive perspective on pregnancy and childbirth made me laugh! She was right, I hate being pregnant! If I could have four healthy children but only endure pregnancy two times, I would choose twins.

Yesterday, when it was time for Lucas and Tilly to go down for their nap, we were walking down the hall together to wash our hands and faces. Both of them now exhibit a "happy run"- its the sweetest combination fast walk and skip. They look side to side the entire time, trying to see if there is anything they could grab in a hurry before nap. Lucas, in particular, keeps a pile of "sticks" he has collected from our front yard outside under the settee in the foyer. He often will stoop and try to grab one before jaunting toward the bathroom yelling "Stick! Stick!". I was watching them and it dawned on me how they have become the tiniest, sweetest, most charming people I know- my favorite people in the world. To be able to watch them blossom, to be able to experience their unique personalities and gifts...four very different children.

Its difficult for me to see such sweet dispositions and experience such joy and define my daily life as hard. I would prefer to say my life is rewarding.

Banana Cake and weekend outings alone

I wonder why I didn't order a large print of that one? Thats her "Franken-Tilly" look. She gives it all the time.

I awoke to a bowl of over ripened bananas on the kitchen counter. Where as other fruit over ripening is a sad frown upon our wastefulness, over ripe bananas mean only one thing. GRANDMAS BANANA CAKE! So, while all the babies were napping, I made a quick cake and now Lucas and Matilda are happily running around the playroom with their small slices clutched in sticky little hands. Its sort of like velcro- their fingers- only its flavored with jam and butter. :-)

Yesterday, I took a book to Starbucks and spent three hours reading. The book was "The Highland Fling Murders" by "Jessica Fletcher" (Donald Bain). Right now I depend upon reading to keep my 'little gray cells', as Poirot would say, from deterioration into baby wipe residue. I read every night from 9 until 10 p.m., then happily slumber until the entire baby routine begins around 7 a.m. the following morning. I haven't seen a television show in over a year that was geared toward anyone above the age of 3, I am completely behind on current events (for a brief moment over the weekend when I saw someone with a sports Jersey that said "OBAMA 08" I wondered if he played for the Atlanta Falcons before remembering the heated primary), I don't know a single song composer whose currently in the top 40 and have no clue whats playing at the box office. I am like a "time capsule" from 2006. People could interview me to find out what 2006 was like, since most everyone else has forgot it already. This isn't as bad as a friend of mine whose hairstyle is a time capsule from 1985. And the weird thing is she is too young to have actually worn that hair style in 1985, so its something she discovered years past the styles prime and adopted for herself anew.

But, I will not sacrifice my "me time" which for me is a murder mystery- favorites in the cozy theme- and a quiet corner. I have been reading Agatha Christie, Rex Stout, and Donald Bain of late. I found just such a comfy chair Saturday and spent three hours engrossed in a light fun book with a character I am attached to from television viewing (when I had that). I have been over my days of reading Vonnegut while in a state of perpetual mourning for years and rather enjoy being swept in something fun and only slightly spooky. Hey, if its not "Mrs. Wishy Washy" I consider it Pulitzer material.

So back to my comfy chair... apparently the comfy chairs in Starbucks are viewed as "couples only" chairs and no one would occupy the one next to me. Either that, or I smelled like baby formula. Not having to SHARE my corner meant I could completely curl up sideways in the chair and let my ankles drape over the arm of the opposite side. I had one entire alcove to myself. Every once in awhile a couple would walk over and stare at me for a moment, perhaps wondering how long I would be claiming ownership of the "comfy chair corner". I wanted to yell "Take your expensive coffee and get a room!". Hee, hee. Another young man sat beside me briefly with his laptop and kept eying me in a most conspicuous fashion and I suspect he wanted me to make eye contact so he could then ask how long I would be hoarding the mate to his comfy chair. Poor fella, I outlasted him, too. When his lunch companion arrived, he cocked his head toward me and rolled his eyes and said "Lets find a secluded corner" and they walked away discussing their upcoming power point lecture. Hmpfh! As if I would be insulted by his snide little stare and purposefully loud annoyment. On the contrary, it just made me appreciate my comfy chair all the more, so I sat my book on it and went and purchased a second over priced beverage to savour while staking my claim to it. I may ask if I can rent this chair every Sunday afternoon from 1 until 4 o'clock. What I drank was some sort of apple cider with caramel, whipped cream, and cinnamon that tasted like a warm apple pie and came in at 470 calories. *That* part, thank goodness, I didn't learn until at home or I may have suffered from an imagined sense of bloat at having downed it so quickly. Not knowing how sugary it was (in a caloric sense) just made the afternoon all the sweeter itself.

OK, Lucas and Tilly finished their cake and Matilda asked me if they could "Scribble". I am right here outside their playroom, so I can enjoy their company and catch up on my blog at the same time. I gave her several color safe markers and two sheets from their coloring book. And now the entire back wall of their playroom is decorated with multiple colors and I snapped a picture of her with a silly expression that says "Uh Oh!" that I will update this entry with sometime in the course of the week. :-) Lucas, on the other hand, now has two green feet.

Here is my grandmas cake, and a picture of my current favorite sleuth:

Maw Maw's Banana Cake

2/3 cup butter
1 1/2 cups sugar
2 eggs
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda ("sodie" as my grandma would say)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup mashed bananas (we use FOUR)
1 teaspoon vanilla

As with all grandma cakes, there isn't any whipping the sugar and cream together, or sifting the flour. Just combine and pour into a 9 by 13 pan and bake it at 350 for about 25-30 minutes.

Bug races

(when do I find time to compose short stories???)


I don't guess there was a place alive as boring as Miss Nelson's Sundy school class.

First off, there was just three of us.

My brother, Billy, who is only 6 and its just not fair to a six year old little boy with an magination like Billy to give him Miss Nelson's class. I will splain that later. Then there's me and I am seven. And then there's Molly, and she is also seven but when push comes to shove she is the first to remind you that she was born in April not June so she is technically my senior and owed the respect that comes about with age. I think thats hogwash myself. She may be two months older but I was a preemie and s'possed to have been born 6 weeks earlier which would of made us almost twins.

Miss Nelson was a nice enough lady and 102 years old if she was a day. On count of only having three pupils in her Sundy school, she didn't work very hard on her lessons which is what made the class so trying on Billy and us. I guess we were lucky as the older classes all had hard lessons and some of the kids would pretend to have sore throats to miss them. But none of us had it as good as the nursery where they sang sweet songs like "Jesus loves me" and made crafts with popsicle sticks and glue and got a snack with juice. I loved the nursery and was sad when Billy and I had to graduate. I specially miss the snacks.

Miss Nelson started the same way every Sundy. She'd pull out her lesson book the church gave her and ask us to turn to page number something while she'd stare at her copy real hard like then change her mind and look up and say "What children your age need to know about is THE DEVIL!". She said this with a sternness in her eyes that used to scare us until we saw her look that same way at a church supper when the pastor got a second slice of cake before she and Mrs. Thompson had the first. He cut into line and everything which made for quite a scandal and all the ladies were unhappy and said so. Except for Mrs. Fuller who had made the cake and was flattered. I don't think the pastor ever did know he did something awful because he went and had a third slice.

But back to the devil. So Miss Nelson would lean forward and stare sternly at us and tell us that kids our age didn't hear enough about the devil anymore because parents didn't want to scare us and wanted us to know only about heaven but what we didn't know was that there was a devil and we would surely get to meet him real fast if we didn't mind our parents and behave like Jesus. Then she would cite some examples of devil behavior and tell us we should think about that and then she would look over at the clock and every single Sundy say the same xact thing. "OK, I am going to rest my eyes a bit before Sundy service while you children read your lesson and think about the things I have told you".

I told my daddy about her once and he said that it was a perfect example of the differences between baptists and methodists. Only I don't know what he meant and I am not sure which one Miss Nelson is.

And then she would fall asleep while she rested her eyes.

The first few times she did that we would just stare at one another and wonder when she would talk some more. But she never did. A long time would pass and then someone would come by and tap the door for us to go on upstairs for service and then she would say "Huh?" and rustle and jerk startled like and then rub her eyes and say "Time for prayer!" before headin up to church.

So while she was asleep we would play games. Sometimes the game was to see how many times we could count a certain word in the lesson book and whoever counted it the fastest and most right won. But this wasn't fair to Billy as he wasn't that good of a counter. Molly always won cause of being 6 weeks older than me. Even when she didn't win she said she did and there was no arguing with her as she would get loud and wake up Miss Nelson who would tell us more about the devil.

Then sometimes we had races. We raced bugs, frogs, and little cars when Billy had them in his pocket. I guess thats what I will tell you bout today.

The church basement was kinda damp after a rain and we would have these large bugs that were crunchy if you stepped on them. I am not sure what they are, but we called them "Water roaches" because they only came after a rain and they looked menacing like a roach would if he wasn't fraid of people.

We would catch a couple and then get up against the cement wall in a corner and put them down and then drawl a line with our lesson books about five feet away and wait and see whose water roach got there first. Billy was good at this game. He would always catch the fastest water roach because he wasn't scared to pick them straight up and he crunched the ones that tried to get away. I don't think I am a prissy girl like Molly is but I really don't like the sound of them crunching. And if you let Billy, he would just spend the rest of the class stomping them behind the old musty bookshelves just to see us squirm and make quiet faces. Its hard to squirm when you know it might wake up Miss Nelson. And you just couldn't let Billy's magination run wild like that because before too long he would be dancing and making faces to see how long we could hold our giggles in. Once he took his fingers and stood behind Miss Nelson making devil horns and Molly and I almost burst. My dad had popped in to tell us that we would be missing sermon cause my mom felt bad and saw Billy making fun of "poor ole Miss Nelson" and all the way home we got a speech on something called "reverence".

But I was talkin about the races.

It was one one of these races when Molly got herself all worked up. She was a "sight", my grandma would say. It had been a good rain the day before and Billy caught FIVE water roaches to race instead of only two or three. Molly never could get on her knees with us because she wore only good dresses to Sundy school on count of her being an only child. So she sat in a chair that she pulled to the corner.
Well, on this occasion one of the water roaches went crazy and climbed the leg of her chair and went right up one of Mollys better dresses that she said came from a "mail order catalog" which meant it was nicer than any of mine because mine came only from Sears which everyone has access to.

Molly just opened her mouth and screamed. She stood up in the chair with her fists clenched down by her sides and opened her mouth wide and screamed and screamed and her face turned as red as her hair and poor Miss Nelson fell out of her chair and took Molly by the arms and yelled "Whats a matter with you girl?" and shook her.

Molly was always one to think fast and she said "I got to thinkin about the devil and it gave me a fright, Miss Nelson". Molly could really pour on the syrup when she wanted to. This seemed to impress Miss Nelson and she patted Molly on the head real sweet and said it would be better for us if the Devil always gave us a fright and on that Sundy we got two lessons even before sermon started. After that she was partial to Molly and would ask Molly to sit beside her and acted as if she was the only person in the class who understood her lessons. I told my daddy about it one night and said that I was tempted to tell Miss Nelson that Molly had drawn a picture of her in the back of her lesson book with bug antenna on her head and wings but daddy asked me what Jesus would do which was his way of saying I better not.

And what made me mad about the whole incident is that it was the first Sundy that I was going to win a race and Billy crunched my bug before I could capture him for the next class.

The end.

Hello again!

I don't know how often I am going to be able to blog, but, I made my blog public again, and lets hope the previous novelty wore off and it can remain that way as I have missed sharing my pictures and family fun with my friends who do not have a blogger account to log in. Also, I must be a mild exhibitionist because its just not as much fun to blog from a closet. :-)

We had these professional portraits taken two weeks ago. Tilly and Lucas are now 20 months old, and Ewan and Rowan are 8 months. Having pictures taken with four *babies* is very hard. Tilly, for instance, is suspicious of people who try and make her laugh with Alien Teddy Bears and fans. Lucas wants to dance. Ewan is perfect and could sit and be photographed all day- if you are smiling at him, he loves you! And little Rowan is only photogenic until its time for a nap, and then he has little meltdowns and has to have his tiny thumb pried from his mouth.

Well- whats new? Tilly now talks in full sentences although they are sometimes silly and don't make much sense. Last night at dinner she said this "Dada Boogie banana look banana". Because Duane offered Lucas some banana on the table. She calls Lucas "Boogie".

Lucas knows his colors and is experimenting with pouting and whining. Ugh. THAT is very tedious. He has the face of an angel, yet he can snarl up his lips and furrow his brow and look like a troll- minus the purple hair. I have this horror now that its what *I* look like when I am angry since he and I have the same facial features and the propensity to make similar expressions. Its funny how your children can teach you about yourself as I now try to avoid furrowing when I am angry.

Ewan has been sitting since he was 5.5 months old, but has no desire to move. He likes to sit with some toys and a book and will entertain himself forever this way, looking up and smiling now and then for the effect of cuteness.

Rowan is crawling and all over the place but not really sitting exactly. He props himself up on his hip for balance and slowly is becoming more and more upright so thats his "sitting" I suppose. He also says "Mama", "Dada" and "Baba" and has since he was 6 months old, but he doesn't know what these objects are or that they necessarily have any special significance other than he is exercising his vocal cords.

The big twins consolidated their naps and take only one a day now, which means my formerly wonderful TWO 2 hour blocks each day while they were all sleeping at once now only consists of a one hour overlap between times one set goes down before the other set gets up. This I have not parted with in a ladylike fashion. For two weeks I protested and laid them all down at the same time as usual and insisted they all sleep or at least pretend to sleep. Lucas and Tilly would toss toys from their crib and jump up and down the first hour, then sleep half an hour then jump up and down some more and wake up grouchy and angry. But, I still did not immediately succumb to the loss of my precious 2 hour blocks of "me time"- which was used for exercising and a bath. Then, for the second nap time where I would get an ADDITIONAL two hour break to do laundry, Lucas and Matilda would have a party that would end with poopie diapers and paci tossing and screams of distress. Finally I decided to consolidate and Lucas and Tilly now take one 3 hour nap a day and wake up rested and happy and ready for their lunch. I no longer bathe. I just can't get it into the schedule. I normally collapse for an hour and sleep until I hear Ewan and Rowan waking up. If Duane gets home early I take a bath then, if not, I sleep in my own filth until time will afford it. :-P

Its time for everyone to get up- so more soon... I hope!