My Little Punk

Here's what's new with the little punkmeister (at left).

The other day he was playing rough with the Rugrat (4) who started to call out to me for help.  I turned to the Punk (2) and said, "Stop that!  That's not nice!  Say you're sorry to your brother."  He looked at me with furrowed brows and said; "But I'm not sorry, Mommy."  Gotta hand it to the kid, he's honest.

For the longest time he has prayed the "verbatim" prayer before meals and during family devotions.  It has always been (day in and day out for about 3 months) "Tank you God for trucks, amen."  Yesterday he came early for lunch and was sitting at the table by himself and started to pray, "Thank you God, thank you Jesus, for the bible, for church, for trucks, amen."  Smile.

Armed Forces

Yikes.  One more reason I’m hoping for a girl.  This was the Sunday afternoon recreation at our house yesterday.

Sneaky Escapades.

So today one of my best friends asked me if my kids ever did "sneaky" things.  I thought about it for a minute and couldn't really think of anything worse than The Hero who has a habit of getting his hand caught in the cookie jar (and I say that quite literally) from time to time.  My daughters were within earshot when the question was posed but I seriously couldn't think of anything sneaky they had ever done.

Lo and behold, this evening, my oldest (10) comes shuffling downstairs and tells me, with tears in her eyes and a trembling voice that she won't be able to go to sleep until she confesses something sneaky that she had done.   Taken aback, I patted my knee and she came and snuggled me and shakily told me that yesterday, while I was running, she had removed the screen from her bedroom window and crawled out on the ROOF.  Not only she, but her 8 year old sister had accompanied her (recall with me if you will the account of Anne walking the ridgepole of Moody Spurgeon's summer kitchen?).  Dear me, those two little rotters! 

I'm afraid I may be taking their lives in my hands if I continue to read them any more of Anne's (mis)adventures.  But truth be told, their recitation of poetry has become such a joy to my ears.  Anne's brought some added adventure into their lives, but some culture too :) 

My Epitaph?

Prairie Girl and The Poppet love to keep journals.  I love to read their journals.  I love the fact that they don’t care if I read their journals.   They are moving into the raging hormone stage of the tween years, and that can be  a real roller coaster ride in print, and truth be told sometimes what I read makes me laugh and sometimes what I read makes me cry (always in a good way though). 

The last time I had ever taken a glance at The Poppet’s diary she was still writing words out in a kindergarten scrawl, you know, just the way they sound.  It was quite moving to glance through a few recent entries and see such a neat little handwriting and such depth of thought and emotion (sometimes). 

One entry was; “Today we watched the most wonderful movie ever made.  It is called Anne of Green Gables.  No, actually, the movie was not wonderful.  Words can not describe this movie.”  :)

I also noticed she had taken on the habit of describing every single person she wrote about in her diary. 

“Today Aunty Nise was over over for lunch.  She is medium tall, has long brown hair and brown eyes and dimples when she smiles.  She is about 35.”

“Today Uncle Bryan watched us while Mommy went to the doctor.  He is not very tall, has no hair, and blue eyes.  He is about 35.”

“Today Aunty Marian came over for tea.  She is very small, has shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes.  She is about 35.”

Apparently anyone over 20 and under 50 is “about 35” :)

Then it was my turn.  And I quote;

“My mom has brown hair that used to be long but she cut it, not too short.  She has blue eyes and dimples when she smiles.  She is about 35 and she yells alot.  I don’t say that to be rude, but it’s true.”

Sigh.  Grrrr.  Argh.  Hmph.  I hope by the time I die they will have nicer things to say on my epitaph =)

Hester Gray

I’ve been losing myself in the beautiful world of Avonlea, enjoying it so immensely through my daughters’ shining eyes and sighs and giggles.  I can see the romance and flights of fancy that are so intrinsically woven into the character of Anne with an E spilling over into the lives of my own sweet girls.  Their bedroom is strewn and canopied with pine boughs and bundles of dried grasses (poor girls, that’s all that’s to be found on the prairies this dreary time of year) and the other day I was walking along the road when I did a double take at a flower that appeared to blossoming at the gate to a little grave plot on the corner of our property. 

A double take because flowers don’t bloom around here at this time of year!  Moseying over I discover this,

a little bundle of fake flowers entwined on the plaque

     

and I just had to smile and shake my head.

A few days earlier we had been reading the chapter where the girls discover little Hester Gray’s garden and Anne is so enthralled with Hester’s story that she begins taking flowers from the garden to lay at Hester’s tombstone whenever she goes there to take June Lilies to Matthew’s grave. 

My girls.  Little Romantics and Dreamers. 

How I love it!

Watoto

 

We had the great privilege of getting to attend a performance of the Ugandan Children’s Choir hosted by our church.  I grinned ear to ear and bawled the whole way through.  What a testimony of hope and joy and grace.  As we drove home (Prairie Guy was on a road trip that night so it was just me and the kids) I asked the kids how they would describe the Watoto children if they had to use one word.  Prairie Girl said “Joy”, The Poppet said, “Praise”, The Hero said, “Happy” and The Rugrat said “Dancy”.

I told the kids that I wanted them to remember those joyful faces and what a difficult life those children have had and how their hope and joy is in JESUS.  I told them I was instituting a new key word… Watoto.  Anytime I hear them whining or lamenting or bickering I’m going to say Watoto and I want them to picture the Watoto children and reconsider their behavior.

Well of course we weren’t far into the following day before I had a chance to use our new key word.  I don’t remember why or to whom it was directed but what I do remember is a little 2 year old parrot coming up behind me and quizzically repeating “Wah-toe-toe?”  Seems this little Punk is too young to understand key words and has no clue what is going on, but the rest of us get real mileage out of his “Wah-toe-toe?” every time we get to hear it, which is whenever I say it, which has been less and less, thankfully :)

Nighttime Ramblings of a Prairie Rugrat

  

“There was an old woman who swallowed a cow… she died somehow.  There was an old woman who swallowed a fly, I don’t know why… of course she died.  There was an old man who bumped his head… on the bed… and on the window and on the door and on the floor cause he slipped and fell… on my lego…  There was an old woman… fee fie fiddlee aye oh, fee fie fiddlee aye oh, fee fie fiddlee aye oh… to catch the flies that were in her room, because she couldn’t go to sleep, even though she had her jammies on, the poor old woman couldn’t go to sleep so of course she died.  In her room.  Of course.”

I was lying in bed working on a Sudoku and therefore got to jot this gem down word for word.  Awesome.  Just a bit earlier I had to smile when he was saying his prayers and said, “and thank you for my baby brother and that he is going to turn 2.  and then he is going to turn three and then he is going to turn four and then he is going to turn five… 

S-A-P spells Sap

The Hero (6) in spelling today;

S-A-T, sat.  Like… “I sat on this chair.”

S-A-N-D, sand, like… “sand on the beach.”

S-A-P, sap, like… “the guts of dead bugs on the tree trunk.”

Ha, ha ha!!!

This One Takes the Cake

The Punk (22 months) is such a card.  Seriously.  We almost can’t discipline the kid for laughing.  Almost.  Yesterday My Hub and I were having what you might call an animated… discussion at the dinner table (why is that so often the case on Sunday afternoons… someone tell me please???) And this guy, who sits between us at the head of the table (go figure) got right in there and saved the day.  As we were discussing back and forth, a little bit short with each other, all of a sudden I felt one little chubby hand grab my wrist, and saw the other chubby hand grab my husband’s sleeve and  this shrill little voice cut in;

"Hey!  Hey! Shhhhhhh…………”

I look over at him and he has this dead serious expression on his face, he points his chubby finger at my plate and commands,

“Eat!”

Oh did we laugh.

Even Though…

Love to hear The Rugrat (4) praying at length.  His prayers are a kind of narrative of the day, or even of the moment.  “Thank you Jesus that we are reading the bible, and putting our pyjamas on and going to bed, and the light is still on, and  my teddy is here on my bed (almost like he is describing what’s going on to God… smile)

The one that made me really laugh though was the other night when it was, “and thank you for my baby brother, I love him very much, even though he’s stinky.”

Classic.

In Case Jesus Comes

Overheard The Poppet (8) checking up on The Hero (6) this morning. 

The Poppet: “Did you clean your room?” (such a little mother hen)

The Hero: “M-hm.”

The Poppet: “Did you clean it with EXCELLENCE?”

The Hero: “I don’t know.”

The Poppet: “Well… you should go and make sure you cleaned it with EXCELLENCE.  You should do everything with EXCELLENCE, you know.  In case Jesus comes back today.” 

 

Awesome.  Preach it girlie.

The Poppet Turns 8

Favorite Color: Robin’s Egg Blue

Favorite Food: pizza

Favorite Drink: Crabapple Slush

Funnest Moment from Year Seven: Tobogganing at Loewen’s Hills.

Saddest Moment from Year Seven: when we found out Nonna wasn’t coming for holiday.

Favorite Thing to Do: read

Favorite Movie: Little Women

Favorite Book: Good Wives

Favorite Toy: mp3 player.

Hero: Mommy and Daddy

Why? “Because Mommy works hard cooking and Daddy works hard making our house nice.   

Favorite Family Activity: Go to the indoor waterslides.

Hobby or Interests: Reading, playing piano

Want to be: An artist.

Gifts; mp3 player (Daddy), Louisa May Alcott collection (Mommy), The Charlotte Years-Little House (Prairie Girl), The Caroline Years-Little House (Prairie Hero, Prairie Rugrat and the Prairie Punkin’), also McNally Robinson Gift Card (Brin), Body Butter (Bailey & Willow), Pet Shops (Josie & Livia), Cash (Aunty M.).

The Hero Turns Six

 

Favorite Color: blue

Favorite Food: pizza

Favorite Drink: cold water (???)

Funnest Moment from Year Five: my special day in the city with Daddy

Saddest Moment from Year Five: one day at church when I was playing with Berry Boy and he ran away to play with Nate. 

Favorite Thing to Do: play with Berry Boy

Favorite Movie: Pirates of the Caribbean

Favorite Book: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer

Favorite Toy: my popper pistol

Hero: "that.... I don't know.  Oh. God."

Why? "Because He answers our prayers."

Favorite Family Activity: Watch a movie (I sense a pattern)

Hobby or Interests: spending time with Daddy, playing games with my family.

Want to be: A police officer and be partners with Berry Boy. 

Merry Christmas, Jesus.

Christmas is such an exciting time for kids. Late nights, lots of parties, games, gifts, friends, fun. It can be so much WORK to keep it simple and meaningful. This year we were very happy to slow everything else down and really create a season of worship and reverence in our home. Each year we seem to find another new and simple breakthrough that helps us wake from the stupor of a culture that has once again caught us up in the rat race of consumerism and bling and return our focus to the classic and endearing things that really merit our devotion and emotion.

This year, after the last of our gifts had been opened (despite there being few gifts in the numerical sense, we spread their reception out over the day by opening one gift per hour) we called a family council meeting. Arriving with our drinks and snacks in hand, we proceeded to
discuss what gifts we would bring to Jesus this year. We're talking very personal gifts. Gifts of character and attitude. We don't prompt our kids. We let them steep and stew and see where it leads us.

The Rugrat was the first to respond. He didn't need to stew. He knew exactly what gift to bring to the manger. Prairie Guy and I sat floored as after a pause of only 15 seconds he opened his little three year old mouth and said; "I have a gift for Jesus. I will use only nice words."

And a child will lead us. As we all sat around and discussed it, we agreed that this is a gift we all want to bring to the manger this year. Not just wholesome words, but words said in respectful tones.

May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts, be pleasing in
Your eyes, Oh Lord.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, JESUS.

The Devil Made Me Do It.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“….for, though Tommy was one of the best-meaning boys who ever adorned knickerbockers, events of the most direful nature were always happening to him, no one could exactly tell how.” 

Little Men, Louisa May Alcott.

*Sigh*.  It’s one of those moments  you hope will never befall you.  The one where your child says something utterly horrifying, in public, to your great chagrin.  Yes.  One of *those* moments. 

Until now the worst it had ever gotten was our oldest daughter once crying out in great three year old anguish from the back seat for someone to help her with her “bloody seatbelt.”  I stopped using that word then and there in moments of frustration, I can tell you that right now. 

How was I to know things could be so much worse?  Immeasurably. Worse.  As the story goes, as my children would tell it, my 5 progeny were seated around the supper table last night with the prim and oh so proper Miss Shawna presiding.  Everyone was apparently enjoying their ravioli and the prospect of an evening of fun and games and crafts with the sitter.  When all of a sudden the devil entered my three year old Rugrat (hyperbolically speaking of course that kid’s got enough mischief in him that he really doesn’t need any help from the devil) and caused him to look innocently at Miss Shawna, open his adorable little mouth and say; “You son-of-a-gitch” and then have the audacity to laugh.  And say it again.  And again.  Like five times in a row.

My older children sat there stupefied.  And apparently my five year old Hero blushed, and ducked his head in a most telling manner.  (Should I really be reading Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer to these two?)

Are you kidding me???  No.  No.  I kid you not.  I think we need to wash some mouths out with soap around here, and the most humbling part of it all is that it won’t be only little mouths. 

Oh, Lord.  Have mercy.

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

It's late.

Very late.

Late enough that Prairie Guy and I are in bed, quietly praying together (Yes!).

Suddenly we hear a little voice coming from the room next door, giving thanks and making petitions to his Father in heaven.

"Dear Dod. Tank you for dis day, and for my mommy and daddy, and Shay-shay and Joo-Joo. Tank you for Hightning Maquine and Spiderman and kitties and chocolate. Tank you for my wight. Help me not be scared my wight is off...."

at which point Prairie Hero (5) grumbles, "Oof.... can you pray in your HEAD??"

at which point The Rugrat (3) answers decidedly, "No... God can't hear my head."

Family Council Meeting

Sunday nights. After supper clean up. We call for family council meeting and the kids come running (joyfully) to the living room. They think it's a "fun" meeting. It ends up being fun, because they make it fun. No hum drum speeches in monotonous voices. Just one simple question, poised to our little "union". One opportunity per week for them to poise their frustrations and brainstorm for a better environment. The question....

"What is the biggest problem robbing us of peace and causing us to live in frustration in our home and towards one another this week?"

This week, since I dealt with kids yelling ALOT I thought that would be the hot ticket item. But no. Prairie Hero (5) stretches his had eager and high.... eyes large... pick me, pick me.

Prairie Guy nods at him.

"The mess."

I smile. Yes. Touchdown.

I ask; "So what can we do about 'the mess'"?

Prairie Poppet's (8) hand pops up. "Each person should have to put away whatever they take out as soon as they are done with it." (I'm sure I must have said that a million times in my short parenting career)... she didn't come up with that on her own genius, but at least it's a comfort to know they are not completely deaf.

Prairie Guy, "And if they don't....?"

Pause. Long pause.

Prairie Girl (10); "If they don't, then they will have to pay Mommy a dollar for everything she finds."

Hmmm.... good idea, but not good enough. I hate being the one to have to "supervise and enforce" the rules. I like enlisting my kids to hold each other accountable.

"How about this." I suggest. "How about, whoever finds someone else's mess and puts it away gets one dollar from the person who LEFT the mess?"

This idea was met by extreme enthusiasm, and I have to say that our house has never been less messy than the past two days! I love my kids. Tell 'em and tell 'em till your blue in the face, and no results. Let them recognize the problem and brainstorm a solution and watch them rise to the occasion. That's my kind of parenting.

Her Children Rise Up and Call Her Blessed

I had a rough night last night. Wednesday nights are often crazy with the stress of getting supper on the table and cleaned up before heading out to teach at our local kids club. It's kind of like the pre-church chaos where everything in the world seems to be working against you.

Last night was particularly trying. I have been working really hard to try to create a peaceful environment around here, and seem to be fighting a losing battle. I realize that I can't do this on my own. I had talked to the girls numerous times and told them I needed them to start taking care of their own messes. Earlier yesterday I had warned them that if they didn't take care of their messes before club, I wouldn't be taking them. Lo and behold, time to leave arrived and chaos still dominated.

I was not happy about having to enforce the consequence, but I knew I had to. I told them to go and talk to their father and ask him what he thought should be done, and he said it was between them and me, so I had to decide. I put my foot down, in the midst of many tears, and left with a few tears of my own but not without having promised them consolation prizes if they showed me they could do a great job and we could make things right.

Well... let's just say we had a conflict in the parenting department and when Daddy heard girls wailing upstairs and saw me driving away he called me up and wanted me to come back and get them. Let's just say that the timing was bad, the communication was poor and the phone call ended very badly ie "click".

When I got home the manure hit the oscillating device in every sense of the word and about every single person in the house had an emotional breakdown. Don't you just hate it when that happens? I won't go into all the gory details, but the beautiful part of the story is this. When I was crying my eyes out, tired and spent and feeling completely misunderstood and unsupported, my little girl snuck off with her bible to look for a very special passage, copied it out on notepaper with hearts and xoxo's, and came to kiss me and tuck it into my hand.

I unfolded the paper and read;

"May the Lord bless you and take good care of you. May the Lord smile on you and be gracious to you. May the Lord look on you with favor and give you PEACE." Numbers 6:24-26

My daughter blessed me in the true sense of the word. In the midst of all that hurt and frustration, I received a verbal blessing, and it washed over me and strengthened me with grace and peace. I think I can learn alot from her.

Magical.

After a hard afternoon’s play on one of the first really beautiful days of summer I told you to come with me, I was going to rinse your hands in the rain barrel before we went inside.  As you trucked along beside me your eyebrows furrowed as you looked quizzically toward the sky. 

“But where *is* the rain bow, Mommy?”

Darlin’ o’ mine.  Thinkin’ your Mamma was going to rinse your hands in a rainbow on a sunshiny day.  Now that’s just magical. 

What Can I Say?

   

You are amazing.

A young lady.

Sweetness personified.

A huge help in every way.

With the gentlest hands and the softest heart,

the sunshiniest eyes and the sweetest smile.

Thank you for being such a thoughtful, helpful, beautiful daughter.

For weeding with me, cleaning with me, laughing with me and putting up with me.