Fly on the Wall

Wouldn't you love to be a fly on the wall at our house full of boys?

These are just a few of the things I have heard myself saying recently:

"Yay! I like your poop! Good job."

"Hey, your brother's head is not a soccer ball."

"Oh, come on. That is not a belch. THIS is a belch..."

"Yes, I really can pee without a penis. No, I'm not going to show you how."

"Can't I just pull those stitches out of your head myself?"

"Do that again, and I'll give you a good spin hook kick to the head!"

"O.K. gentlemen, who put all these snails in my bathroom sink?"

"Hand over the slime, and fold your arms." (that was in sacrament meeting.)

You know how you sometimes find yourself sounding like your mother? Well, I don't ever remember my mother sounding like this. Having all boys is turning me into this creature that I don't even recognize anymore. Yikes!

Top Boyolgists Publish New Findings

Below is a post originally dated 11/9/08 that I was working on when Dylan got sick a year ago, that I never finished, and forgot all about until today, when I was looking back through my posts on Dylan's illness. It is pretty funny, and especially appropriate since Derek just had 6 stitches removed from his head yesterday. Enjoy!

Leading boyologists Dr. Rachelle VanBuskirk and her colleague Dr. Dennis VanBuskirk from the VanBuskirk Institute of Boy Studies and Rearing, in a thirteen-year study, have uncovered some interesting facts about boys and their inevitable head wounds.

Here is what this team of researchers discovered:

Fact 1: Head wounds bleed A LOT, but stop bleeding very quickly.

Fact 2: Boys' skulls are very hard.

Fact 3: Head staples are a status symbol among males ages 3 - 13.

Fact 4: Head staples should only be removed by a professional. Normal stapler removers will not work.

Fact 5: Trips to the Urgent Care and head staples can be avoided entirely by super-gluing the hairs around the head wound together to hold it closed.

*Please note. These finding apply to boys only. Not much is known about the effects of head wounds on girls, at least not to these scientists.

Drs. VanBuskirk and VanBuskirk have been studying six male subjects, ranging in age from 2 to 12, in their research faculty. "We try to study our subjects in their natural environment rather than in a lab setting," reports Dr. V. "We have provided our subjects with a trampoline, toy weapons, and ugly action figures in an effort to make them comfortable in their surroundings."

These boyologists have studied various aspects of boyology in their subjects. "This didn't start out as a study in boys and head wounds..." Dr. V explains, "we just happened to hit upon this research, or at least the boys did - but we have learned so much, and wanted to share what we have learned with the world." Among other things the Institute has studied the direct correlation of messy rooms to tardiness at school, studied the effects of 3 dozen sweaty socks in a hot car, taken readings on record decibel levels of 'indoor voices', recorded hundreds of case studies of what happens when you throw a ball in the house, clocked record speeds that a house can go from clean to a hurricane-level disaster, proven time and time again, that boys' bodies really do have weight, and that things break when boys step/climb on them, and cataloged and indexed gross bodily sounds that most boys are so adept at producing, all in an attempt to understand them better.

Drs. VanBuskirk and VanBuskirk believe that much of their research concurs with the research of their fellow boyologists at the Thatcher Institute, the Crowshaw Institute, and the well-established Broadhead Institute for Boyological Studies.

"Boys are mysterious creatures. Surprisingly, not much is really known about how their brains work, or if they work at all," Dr. V. explains.

Recently these boyologists have been trying to prove the hypothesis that, as the old saying goes, 'one boy has one brain, two boys have half a brain, and three boys have no brain at all.'

"Our studies are showing this hypothesis to be correct, and it is exciting to see what happens when we have four, five, or even six boys together. It is amazing to see how they can function without any brain activity whatsoever. This is one of the great mysteries of science, and we are coming closer everyday to solving it."

So far the Institute's boyology research has concentrated on pre-pubescent males, but they plan to expand their research into adolescent males in the next several months. "That just seems to be the right direction for us to take at this time. The mystery surrounding adolescent males is even greater than that of their younger counterparts. We are excited to see where this research takes us, and what we can learn."

Unfortunately, the Institute is badly in need of funding. "It is amazing how expensive it is to maintain these subjects, and keep them properly fed. This will be an even greater problem when we start studying adolescents in the near future. Perhaps we'll do some research on the mass quantities of food teenage boys can consume, and the health effects of an all Ramen noodle diet. The possibilities for research are endless, really."

There have been disappointments along the way. "Even after all these years of training we still haven't been able to get our subjects to aim into the toilet," acknowledges Dr. V., who also admits great difficulty in getting the subjects to brush the fur off of their teeth, or change their clothes on a daily basis. "But we still hold out high hopes that these behaviors will come in time. Our goal is to eventually produce six fully-functional adult males (though the question if there really is such a thing is debatable.) If we can accomplish this, we can count all these years of research with these subjects a major success!"

Sleepover

Back in high school, I would often have a sleepover at my best friend, Alicia's house.  We always had a great time doing girls stuff and talking all night long.  Well, this week, I went over to her house in Orange County for another sleepover - just like old times...

... except for the fact that now we have 10 boys between us.  So yep, sleepover with 10 cute boys!  Even better!  Maybe.

(Actually, Alicia has a daughter, but she missed out on the fun because she was in Europe with her grandparents.  Poor girl.  Her hubby is bishop, so we didn't see much of him either.)

We were there all of five minutes before the boys were busy building a fort in the backyard.  I don't remember ever doing that at a BFF sleepover.

They boys are all similar in ages and all had a great time together.  And I love that we can go over there and feel completely comfortable bringing 6 boys.  Most people have a hard time with us coming over and having a bunch of boys running around.  But they are very used to that over at their house.

Then we headed over to Corona Del Mar for some sand and sun.

One of Alicia's twins (Yep, we both have twin boys!) couldn't go to the beach because he got bit by a huge rattlesnake last month and is still healing from his wounds (Can you believe that???   My boys think that is SO cool - way cooler than head staples.  Even cooler than Nate's being attacked by a mountain lion last summer!)  Nathan stayed behind with Ryan to keep him company.

The rest of us enjoyed the sand and surf.  Sand = the little guys, well sand crabs to be exact.  Surf = the bigger guys, well boogie boards actually.

We saw a lot of this - 10 boys staring at the TV or Wii or DS.  

After the beach, and dinner, the boys all watched Wipe Out and I Survived a Japanese Game Show while Alicia and I snuck away to the mall to do a little shopping.  We went to the Tall Girl Shop, which, surprisingly is not Alicia's favorite store (she is just a smidgen over 5') , but for me it was a rare treat.  So she was kind enough to help me shop, running back and forth to the dressing room for me.  Fun! (Well, maybe not for her.  But she is a runner, so at least she got her workout in.)  I am always amazed when I can find clothes that actually fit!!! (OK, I DO remember shopping at sleepovers back then.)

Later all the boys showed off their many musical talents to each other, and hung out and played games until late into the night, giving Alicia and I more time to chat, (as required for any sleepover.)

In the morning the boys were up bright and early.  After a big breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes, the boys came up with a plan to ride down to the local creek.  But they planned to ride in style!  They  came up with a riding contraption - a bike pulling a tot trailer pulling several skateboards and tricycles with bungee cords.  Quite a plan!  We were quite a sight parading down the quiet streets of Lake Forest.

We followed the guys to the tunnels under the street for the dry creek.  They loves yelling and hollering in the tunnels.

We had fun chasing them in and out of the tunnels.  While Alicia and I were in the tunnels we heard a huge, horrible racket.  We ran out of the tunnel to find this.

The boys had found an old shopping cart and immediately thought of "Destroy, Build, Destroy!"  So they worked hard to push the cart to the top of the ditch and rolled it down the steep sides.  No wonder it was so noisy!  Goodness!

It was so cool, they did it a few more times, just to get it right.

Boys.

I NEVER did that at a sleepover.

Luke liked watching his shoes slide down the side.  Not nearly as noisy or as exciting as a shopping cart.

After Derek got stung by a bee we decided the fun was done and it was time to go home.  But by then it was getting pretty warm, and none of the boys wanted to pedal the new mode of transportation all the way back ...

...so Alicia had to get them home.  That's what moms do, I guess.

We did get a little bit more girly time in, when I showed Alicia how to make beaded watches.  

I love that girl!  She is such a wonderful friend, and quite possibly the happiest, most optimistic person I ever met. (I don't know how she  can stand my pessimism.)  She is as constant as a friend can be.  As years pass, and boy have they passed, our friendship stays right where it's put.  I rely on that - knowing that Alicia is always there, and that she will always love me.

So that was our sleepover - unlike any we ever had in high school, though back then we might really have liked the idea of a sleepover with 10 cute guys running around.  But we never would have thought they would be calling us "Mom."

Morning Person

I get it.  I am a morning person myself, and I love being a morning person.  I get the feeling, the rush when your eyes flip open and you realize a new day has arrived full of possibilities and responsibilities, and the need to get up and get started.  I love the renewed energy in my muscles and the freshly firing synapses in my rested brain.  I love that glorious few hours when the house is quiet and I can go exercise, read, or sneak around and get things done while my family of hooligans snoozes away.  Morning are magical, and I am a morning person.

Unfortunately, so is Luke.  The earlier the sun gets up, the earlier he gets up.  And right now in mid-July, that is pretty darn early.  Dare I say it, too early for me.

My timer is usually set for 5am, though often I wake up earlier and just can't go back to sleep. (my lucky number is 3am.  If I wake up anytime after 3am for any reason, I can't go back to sleep.)  But in the summer since my kids don't have to be off to school in the morning, I indulge and set my alarm to 6am.  Usually I am up at 5 anyway.  But when I need that extra hour in the summertime, it is so nice to get it.

But now I have this sunny-side-up three year old who rises early, and wants to rouse the entire family with him - starting always with me.

This morning he got up and decided to get some bread and honey for himself, and some for me too.  He came into my bedroom with the two dripping slices of bread, and laid one of them on my chest as I was sleeping.

"One for me, one for Mom," he announces.

"One what?" I think as I  roll to my side.  I quickly discover the "what" at the same time as a sticky little kid in a puffy nighttime diaper climbs into bed with me.

"Sun up!  Mom!  Sun up!  See!"  he exclaims as he pulls my eyelids back and turns my head toward the window to show me proof that the sun is indeed up.  "See.  Sun.  Up!"

There was no denying it.  The sun was definitely up.  But this morning, at least, my body didn't want to be.

I sent my sticky wake up call off to the kitchen with his drippy toast and told him to go wash his hands.  Then I attempted to fall back asleep, trying to ignore the glaring sun and the stickiness all over me.

Soon the bedroom door opens again and Luke is toting a full gallon of milk, a sippy cup, and a lid.  "Mom, sun up.  Sun up NOW!" and tosses the gallon of milk on the bed with a thunk.  Luckily, the lid doesn't pop off.

All right, all right!  I'm up already!  Up to fill a sippy cup with milk.  Up to find honey all over my kitchen, a refrigerator hanging open, and a basketful of clean folded laundry dumped on a sticky floor.  An invigorating morning!  I'd love to go swimming, but don't dare leave my early riser awake alone in a house full of dreamers.

Last week I woke up to "Mom, hode dis!  Hode dis."  My back was turned to him, and I was still half asleep with my eyes closed when I absently-mindedly reached behind me to hold whatever it was Luke needed me to hold so he could climb into my bed.  I discovered real quick what it was I was supposed to hold when ice water poured down my back, not in a sippy cup apparently.  Yikes.  Talk about a wake up call!  I hopped up out of bed as fast as a fireman with a midnight alarm. Luke was standing there watching me with a huge grin on his face.

"Sun up, Mom," like he is sharing some terrific news, "Sun UP!"

Boys are Gross!

I have always known it.  Little girls label little boys as gross.  We laughed and giggled at the gross things boys did.  You know "girls rule, and boys drool."  We just couldn't figure those strange, dirty, stinky creatures out. They liked everything slimy, stinky, and just plain ugly.   It was common girl knowledge - Boys were just gross.

But then as I grew older (and started liking boys) I started thinking maybe it was all an exaggeration.  Boys weren't really that bad.  After all, they were kind of cute, OK really cute, and what used to seem so yucky and stinky suddenly became very attractive.  (What powerful things those hormones can be - deluding us into finding such things appealing!) I thought what silly little girls we had been! Boys were suddenly pretty fantastic.  

Now I have six sons, and my opinion about boys has come full circle.  I realize how wise I was at a young age to perceive that boys are gross.  In fact, my acquired wisdom and experience has only taught me that boys really are much more disgusting than I had previously imagined- so very much worse.

Sometime I feel like I am surrounded, like a bad dream where slimy swamp creatures are all around you, moving in closer and closer, and there is no escape.... ahhh!

Yep, kinda like that.

Case in point.  Last week I took my darling firstborn son to the dentist.  He NEVER brushes his teeth.  We have taught him proper brushing technique, and tell him constantly to brush, but he has chosen an alternate, non-hygienic lifestyle and does not brush.  So guess what the Dr. found?  Not one, not two, not even six or seven cavities.  He found 8 cavities! Eight!  And its not like these cavities have accumulated over years.  We take our kids to the dentist regularly twice a year.  He developed all those cavities in 6 months time!  Holy stinkin' cow!  When the financial advisor came into the exam room, I knew we were in trouble.  His decision not to brush is going to cost us about a thousand bucks!  I was so upset I had to get up and leave.  Good thing Dennis had arrived just then.  Do you know what we could do with that $$$?  It is a good thing his exam wasn't last week, or we would have had to cancel out trip to Disneyland.  Filth is expensive.

He is not the only one.  Sadly, all my sons have chosen a life without hygiene.

There is just nothing like gazing into the beautiful face of your angel child, and then they smile that award winning grin... and you see that indeed moss grows on the north side of teeth as well as trees.    

Or you look in the rear view mirror to catch a glimpse of your beautiful family... only to see one kid who has a nasty habit of playing with wads of his own spit and avert you eyes only to spot a finger up a nose, well, half a finger actually, and  you quickly look away before you have to witness that same finger take a quick trip to the mouth.  Ug!

Or your sweet child comes to give you that big hug you are aching for...and you are accosted with an overwhelming mix of body odor and smelly feet as greasy hair smears across your cheek.

Ugh.  

Fact is, all five of my poor senses get accosted on a regular basis! 

Fuzzy teeth are a chronic problem around here.  Their teeth wear their little winter coats all year long. I will tell a kid to go get me his tooth brush, and he will declare that he doesn't have one.  When asked how long he has been without a tooth brush he will shrug his shoulders, "I dunno.  A while."  We have about fifty brand new toothbrushes in cupboard and they KNOW THIS but always look at me like this is new information - like I have been hoarding the toothbrushes and they have been suffering because of it.  I can't even imagine going a day without a toothbrush.  

And they are under the impression that showers should be a weekly occurrence, and any more than that are strictly optional.  When they are forced to shower, they will often just step into the shower and wet their hair.  Then they are always dumbfounded that we figure out that they didn't actually wash down with soap and shampoo.  But our noses can't be fooled that easily, and the fact that there is often a patch or two of dry hair in the back is a good indicator too.  Oh the injustice they claim when we insist they step back in the shower to finish the job.

Hand washing, too, is performed with a similar M.O..  I always sneak a  peak when they are "washing" their hands.  Cold water on. Soap dispensed into hand (again, often optional) and rinsed immediately in water without lathering up - the soap slips right off.  Then water is turned off (often not before the kid puts his mouth on the faucet to take a quick drink.)  Then the wet hands are wiped dry on the dirty pants.  Done.  Ya think?

You know it is a bad sign when you ask if their hands are clean and they have to look.  If you have to look, they are not clean.

Derek's glasses are always so dirty, I don't know how he can see through them.  He'd probably see better if he just took them off.  If my windshield was that dirty, I would get into an accident for sure.

My kids are constantly wearing dirty clothes.  OK, yes, kids get dirty.  That happens.  But I mean they are wearing dirty clothes first thing in the morning.  They put on dirty clothes.  I will tell them to change.  "I just did."  "Go change again." "Why?" "Because your clothes are dirty." "But I just put them on."  "Where did you get them?" "On the floor."  "Uh huh.  They are dirty."  Shock.  "I didn't know!"  "Here's a helpful hint.  Look at the sleeves of your shirts.  If there is a crust where you always wipe your mouth it is dirty.  Look at your pants.  If there are smears of crud here were you always wipe your dirty hands, then they are dirty.  Oh, and if you look in your underwear and see this skid mark because you don't wipe your bottom, I would be willing to bet they are dirty too, and you should not wear them."  "Oh."  

Oh yes.  These are not fictional accounts.

They are always sleeping without pillowcases on their pillows and sheets on the bed.  They can't even fathom why silly mom finds this practice so extremely disgusting, or why mom is equally disgusted when they never take their sheets off to be washed.  Whatever, mom.

And their bathroom.

Oh my. 

That bathroom.  It is, well, it is a health hazard.  Really.  You do NOT want to go in there!  I have to force myself to go into the belly of the beast.  It always smells like urine.  Always.  Even after a good scrubbing it smells like urine mixed with bleach.  There is toilet paper everywhere (does that mean they are using it?) and mildewed towels piled on the floor.  Inside the toothpaste drawer is a sticky mass of toothbrushes, half-squeezed tubes of toothpaste, none with caps, and a little bit of hair and legos stuck in for good measure.  No wonder the teeth are fuzzy.  The only thing clean and untouched in that bathroom are the pretty bottles of deodorant all lined up in the medicine cabinet.  They would be completely unused if it wasn't for the someone occasionally using them to scribble on the bathroom mirror.  At least someone is putting them to good use.

It isn't like we, as parents, don't try.  Oh we teach, and guide, and beg, and scream.  Due to a need we have recently re-instituted regular hygiene instruction during our family home evenings.  You know: Song, prayer, the six BEs, a scripture, family business, followed by instruction on the proper care and wiping of bottoms, then a lesson on the plan of salvation, song, and prayer.  Every family has to do what works for them.

And as if it isn't enough just to be disgusting, the also have to talk about disgusting things. 

The other day Caleb announced that earwax doesn't taste good.  His brothers all agreed!  I guess they have all tried it and decided that was one body cavity not worth exploring further.

 And just this very morning, in fact, as we were climbing into the car, Caleb just announces, "Mom, farting is so fun!"  followed but a lengthy family discussion about long versus short, loud verses silent, etc., accompanied by fairly accurate sound effects.  That's when I turn the radio up.  Way, way up.

Such is my life.

Well, at least we don't have to worry about girls knocking down our door, right?

Of course, all this could change when my boys discover girls.  Then we'll have a whole new set of problems to deal with.  But I can handle them if it means shiny teeth and clean hair ... I think.

DEREK by Derek

For Christmas, Derek gave me a laminated copy of his poem - all about him.  It is EXACTLY him.  It cracks me up because Derek is a one-in a billion type of kid.  Glad to see he knows himself as well as I do.  My comments are in italics.  This is Derek:

DEREK

I am adventurous, weird, and smart.

Right on all three accounts.

I wish I was a super hero.

Constantly! He is always coming up with the perfect superpower.

I dream of going to Mars.

Where else?

I want to learn how to spell better.

Me too!

I wonder about top secret stuff.

Yes, and he wonders out-loud about it all the time.

I am afraid of Monsters.

It takes a brave man to admit his fears.

I believe in Heavenly Father.

Yes, yes, yes - bearing his testimony in school even.

I like lettuce.

Loves it.  He did say he was weird... and smart.

I love ligers.

Yep, he and Napoleon.  We hear a lot about Ligers around here. (They ARE real you know.)

I love my family.

Ding, ding, ding - This kid is winning points all over the place!

In high school I want to learn languages.

To get ready for his mission, no doubt.

When I grow up I want to be an insurance man and an archaeologist.

A cross between his dad and Indiana Jones - a recipe for success.

DEREK

I am absolutely crazy about that funny kid!  He has brought so much joy and life into our home since the day he was born.  

Thanks for the poem Derek!  I'll treasure it.

P.S. You ARE my superhero.  You have the power to make me laugh!

AB Pattern

There is nothing as great as having a kindergartener in the house!

They begin to read and do math and the whole world around them seems to open up for them.  How fun it is to watch them incorporate what they are learning into their world.

Look what I discovered.  Someone was practicing their lettering on my antique molasses crock.  He did a nice job.  I should be furious. Writing on stuff is a serious "no-no."  But I can't bring myself to erase it.  It adds to the charm, don't you think?

This was my Christmas present from Caleb.  This is my 5th gilded macaroni frame with a picture with Santa.  I have one from each of my boys from their kindergarten days.  He was so excited for me to open it, and as soon as I tore the tissue paper off (with his help,of course) he exclaimed, "See!  It's an A B pattern!"  He was so proud - not of his darling picture with Santa, or of the beautiful gold frame, but of the A B pattern.  It took me a second to get it because it has been a few years since my kindergarten math.  He proudly pointed out how he had carefully arranged the holiday-themed macaroni in an A,B,A,B pattern. Santa, snowflake, Santa, snowflake, Santa - across the top, and sled, present, sled, present, sled - across the bottom.  Oh, of course - A B pattern!  He couldn't wait to show off his mathematical genius. 

Then the other day, Luke and Caleb wanted to help me make muffins.  It was a little chaotic with a 2 year old and a five year old in the kitchen.  But Caleb, and his aforementioned mathematical genius, announced a plan.  "I know.  AB pattern!" He arranged it so that he was A, Lukie was B.  He would break and egg, Luke would break an egg.  He would measure a half cup water, Luke would measure a half cup water.  Caleb would stir, Luke would stir.  It was very efficient.  Then he labled the rows of the muffin pan - A row, B row, A row B row.  Caleb put all the paper liners in the A rows, and Luke the B rows.  Luke, never having been to kindergarten, didn't quite grasp this higher-order math skill, which bugged Caleb to no end.  But the A B pattern muffins did get made in a somewhat orderly fashion, and they were delicious!

Now if I could get my kids to use an "A B C D E F G pattern" in such things as sharing the Nintendo DS, or choosing who sits in the best seat in the car.  I could put Caleb in charge of that. 

Milk Heist

I opened my eyes when I woke up this morning and jumped when I saw this:

I was staring down the barrel of a shiny pistol being wielded by a 2 year old.

He asked for milk.  I gave it to him.  What choice did I have?

Now there is a kid who knows how to get what he wants.  Should I be worried?

A Good Sign?

Yesterday as I was folding the laundry, Luke was helping me until he became intrigued by a pair of underwear.  He put it on right over his diaper.  He was so thrilled by the new big boy look that he dug through the laundry basket and found all the underwear (clean, thankfully!) and put on every pair he could find.  When he got on about 8 or 9 pair, he couldn't even walk anymore.   So what do you think?  Is this a good sign that Lukie is ready for the big time - toilet training?  Or is he just a fashion trendsetter?  Only time will tell.

Caleb on Rain and Santa

Oh the wisdom of a 5 year old.

Yesterday, on the drive to kindergarten in the rain.  Completely serious, Caleb reports, "Rain... is pee... from God."  He has the world all figured out.

Then after school, he explained the nature of Santa Claus to me.  "Mom, not all Santas are real.  There are only four real ones, all the others are NOT real."  How do you know which ones are real?  "Mom... you'll know."  How come there are four real ones?  "Mom, this world is too big.  So there is one Santa for this part of the world (Caleb uses his arms to section off the world around him, north, south,east, and west,  like giant slices of pie.) and one for this part, and one for this part, and one for this part."  OK, that makes sense. "Yes."  Is there a Santa here?  "Yes, but our Santa is far.  They are all far because everything close is warm, and everything far away is cold."  You got that right kid!  How about your cousins in Texas, do the have the same Santa as us?  "Which way is Texas?"  I point East.  "Yes, they have the same Santa we have."  How about your cousins in Oregon?  "Which way?"  I point North.  "No.  Different."  What about Lisa's kids.  They live in Rancho Mirage.  "What way?"  I point West.  "Different."  But they live here in the desert right near us.  "No.  Different."  So apparently we were sitting right in the vortex of Santa zoning.  The whole world was divided in quarters, and we happened to   be right at the four corners of it all.  Amazing.  So Caleb, do all four Santas look alike?  "Mom, you know what Santa looks like."  Are they twins?  That one got no reply, just a look like I was really stupid.  

So Caleb, which Santa lives in the North Pole?  "They all do."  They all live together?  "No, Mom.  Thats silly.  They all live in the North Pole, because there are four North Poleses."  I thought there was only one North Pole.  "No.  Four.  They all have their own Elvises too. "  Elvises?  "Yes, little Elvises.  They are small."  Elves?  "Mom, thats what I said."  Oh.  So Caleb, what is our Santa going to bring you for Christmas?  "I hope diamonds."  Diamonds?  That kid dosen't mess around.  Why diamonds?  "Because they are made of gold!" (duh!)  Oh.  Do you think the Elves can make diamonds?  "Probably not."  No, probably not.  What if Santa can't bring you diamonds?  "Then I want a big motorcycle!  A real one.  What do you want Mom?"  Diamonds, definately.

And then this fantastic line this morning:  "I love the rain.  Rain is good for dancing!"  

Caleb, I completely agree.

Don't Look Down

So we were in sacrament meeting today when I looked down and saw this.

This is Derek.  Both those feet belong on the same kid.  Yep, Derek was wearing two different shoes to church.  The black one had a big gaping hole in it and the brown one (though you can't really see from the picture) was on the wrong foot!  He was wearing 2 right shoes!  The socks also didn't match, and the short one had a big hole in the heel.  Yes, his pants really were that short (I think they were Caleb's).  I mean, if you are going to wear mismatched shoes and socks, at least have long pants on to hide them!  Derek was also wearing a shirt with 2 missing buttons, and the safety pin was sticking up above his tie.  He couldn't find his nice glasses so he was wearing his athletic safety glasses.  I had known about the shirt and glasses prior to church, but the shoes were a complete surprise to me.  He seemed just as surprised that his shoes didn't match.  How do you miss something like that?  I had asked him if he had his shoes, but didn't think to ask if they matched.  That is so typical Derek!  Dylan, his twin, is always so dapper.  He has to always look perfect.  At church Dylan was telling people, "that's not my twin, he is just some hobo."  We love our Derek.  He doesn't have his own style - his style is no style at all.  But what he lacks in style, he makes up for in personality!

One of THOSE Mornings!

Ever feel like this?

I had one of those mornings, a real humdinger! Roxanne and Alysa have already heard it - thanks for the ear my friends, and Roxy said, "You SO have to blog that." I think I will feel better when get it all down and throw it into the blogosphere. It's long, but it involves a lot of poop, so it might be worth reading, if you're into that kind of thing.

My bad morning actually started last night. Dennis and I went to the temple. That part was good. But it was our first time leaving the kids home alone to go all the way to Redlands. My mom was 5 minutes away if there was a problem. It was fine. There were no problems. In fact, when we got home after 10pm, the boys were all asleep. That was a good thing, right? School night. But that was also a problem, because they were too asleep! We realized that neither of us had a key and the house was locked up tight. Another good thing - no strangers were getting into that house. Only neither were we. It was serious lock down. No amount of ringing door bell or calling on the phone was waking anybody. Were we going to be spending the night on the trampoline? (Actually, Dennis might like to rough it out there!) After banging on their bedroom window until I thought the glass was about to crack, a light switched on and the shutters flew open, and when my oldest assessed that I was not the boogie man, he unlocked the front door.

The house was a mess. To be fair, I could see that they had attempted to do their dinner chores, but surprisingly their definition of a successfully completed job is remarkably different from my own. I give them credit for trying. I really didn't want to think about the mess by that time. I just wanted to hit the sack.

I found Caleb asleep in my bed. He had peed all over the bed, the comforter, and it went into the mattress. Nice. Dennis stripped down Caleb, and I stripped down bed and hauled it to the laundry room. The mattress needed airing out, so we finally crashed on the sofas. It was late.

So this morning when the alarm went off, we didn't hear it. When I woke up, it was almost 7. Wednesdays are Dennis' early day - 7am meeting. Of course its Wednesday. He jumped up, showered, and ran out the door. Then I hurried and got my middle schoolers up and ready, noticing again my dirty house and realizing that I had a friend coming over at 9am so I could help her make some invitations. My house was no condition for anyone to see it - six boys, six hours, no supervision, remember? It looked even filthier in the light of day. I rushed to clean as much as I could before I had to take my kids to school. When you have a mess like that, and limited time, where do you even start?

In my mad cleaning spree I happened to look up and see the clock. We had to get out the door right now if I was going to get my boys to the middle school. So I herded everyone into the car, snatched Luke out of his crib, and threw him into his car seat in his bulging night diaper. I remember thinking that I should probably change him first, but decided I didn't have time. Hind sight is 20/20, and now I see so clearly that a two minute diaper change would have changed the whole course of my morning, and saved me hours of trouble.

This morning, this very morning, was the morning that Luke figured out how to wiggle out of his car seat. On the drive to school, in the rear view mirror, I saw him bouncing around in the back. It was chaos! The kids were screaming, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. I was yelling at them to get him back into his seat. It is the first week of school, and I knew cops would be everywhere. It took me too long, and another look in the rear-view mirror to realize what the screaming was all about. Luke, in his escape form the confines of his car seat, had torn off the front of his diaper. He was trying to climb over the back of the seat, and his diaper was hanging in a flap behind him. Poop was everywhere! Not in a neat little pellet form, but the sticky, stinky kind. Bad. Bad. So very bad.

I stopped to let the kids out at the school. They squawked and moaned that they had poop on them. I thought of taking them home to clean up, but there was no time. Bad mom told them to find a bathroom. Use lots of soap. I couldn't listen to their protests, as I was out of the car, leaning into the backseat, trying to grab the naked poopy slippery little monster and wedge him back into his poopy seat. Ugh! I was digging around trying to find the wipes. No wipes. I remembered the my good husband had spend labor day cleaning out and vacuuming out the car. He must have taken out the wipes along with the 27 socks, candy wrappers, unmatched shoes, sandwich crusts, and 18 action figures. So much for a clean car.

I didn't know what else to do, so I just rolled down the window and drove home. That was a long ride. At home, I tossed Luke into the tub, then went to tackle the car, armed with disinfecting wipes and lysol. Man, what a lot of work, and so HOT even this early in the morning. It is amazing what heat does to the smell of ripe feces. I cleaned up the car as best I could, but realized that I didn't have time to take the car seat out, take it apart, clean it, and get it put back together and in the car before I had to get the twins to school. Why do they make car seats so hard to clean? Hasn't anyone thought that a toddler might make a mess in their car seat? Hello? Maybe someone needs to ask a mom about designing a car seat. I just grabbed an old towel and threw it over the mess on the car seat, then ran into the house to get a nice fresh diaper on Luke, and get the kids into the reeking car.

While I was in the garage, Luke had dumped water out of the tub all over the floor, and was now in the kitchen, naked, swinging a full open bag of cheerios around over his head- imitating a helicopter, I think. My other three boys stood frozen two feet away while cheerios rained down all around him. By the time I got to him the bag was empty...and breakfast was over.

After a quick sweep of the floor, a diaper and clothes for Luke, and a short but energetic temper tantrum (me, not the toddler), I drove the boys to school. The windows were still open as the car now had the tangy aroma of baked poop and lysol. Back at home I went to get Luke out of his seat, and found that he had adeptly yanked the poop barrier towel out from under him. Of course he had. Another bath, and another change of clothes for Luke. Suddenly it was 9 o'clock and my friend was on her way. My house was still a mess, but it smelled a lot cleaner than a hot car full of poop, so I figured it was good enough. Besides, I figured that if anyone had an excuse for a dirty house, I did.

I was exhausted. After my guest left, I spent the rest of the day on my stripped down bed, and did nothing (except for six loads of laundry, disassembling, hosing down, washing, reassembling, reinstalling a car seat, and five more trips picking up/dropping off kids.) After all, I deserved a break.

Puppy with Big Paws

Don't get so excited by the title.  We did NOT get a dog.  Banish the thought.

Dennis took Alex, our oldest, out to buy new shoes for school yesterday.  When he got home he couldn't wait to show me.  

"Cool,"  I said.

"They're size 10 1/2!" he said, beaming with pride.

It took me a second to process.  Hello, that is a MAN's size 10 1/2, not a kid's size.  Remember?  It took me another second to do the math.  If I wear a women's 12, that translates to a man's 9 1/2...

"Holy Cow, boy!  You have bigger feet than I do!"  I grabbed his new tennis shoes right out of the shoebox, pulled out the tissue paper stuffing, and slipped them easily onto my enormous feet.

And the thing is, I have gigantic feet!!!  Size 12.  I can't even walk into your average shoe store and buy a pair of shoes.  In all my years of garage saleing, I have only once found shoes my size (that was a happy day!).  My feet are freakishly large.  His feet are larger - and I am almost a foot taller than him!  That might be why it caught me so off guard. He still seems little to me.  His feet, obviously, are not.

Whoa!  When did this happen?  Only 12 years ago his feet were like two inches long, and I would just marvel at his perfectly formed tiny little toes with those eensy weensy toenails.  

But the truth is, with the gene pool he has, there was never any hope for him, or any of my sons, to have normal size feet.  We used to joke that when our babies are born, they weigh the baby, then they weigh his feet.  Wait till Caleb gets bigger.  Special order shoes for him?

No wonder those boys sound like a herd of cattle when they're running through the house.  What ever happened to the pitter patter of little feet?

Anyways, I am over the shock of it now.  It was just one of those mom moments when you have to stop, and to try to catch up with how fast your kids are changing right under your nose.  Of course, he'll be up over my nose in no time.  That will be another shock, when I realize a kid is taller than me.  And THAT will be no easy task either.

It will happen, of course.  You know what they say about a puppy with big paws.

Feeding Frenzy

I can't believe I missed this when I wrote my post about our trip to Utah/Yellowstone, but I didn't want to forget this classic Caleb moment, so here goes.

When we were in Salt Lake we went to visit that time-honored establishment of our pioneer ancestors - the Chuck-a-Rama.  Now, I know that as a good parent I should have assisted my 4 year old in his food selections, guiding him to nutritious, well-balanced choices, but I was a little preoccupied with getting my timing just right so I could get the sticky buns as they came out of the oven.  Happily, Caleb was left to fend for himself.  

So as I was merrily chomping away, trying to decide which dish was most deserving of a second helping to fill that tiniest of remaining empty space in my gullet, Caleb came trotting back from the dessert bar with a huge bowl of chocolate ice cream.  I looked at his place - he already had half-eaten chocolate pudding, jello, banana  pudding, and vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles.  That was it.  

"Caleb,"  I said, the good mom was kicking in - finally, "you can't have more ice cream.  You've had enough dessert."

"MOM", Caleb said looking up at me.  It was one word, but the tone translated roughly to "How dumb can you be?" the way that only Caleb can say it.  "Mom," again, for emphasis, "this is my DIN-NER," pointing to the chocolate pudding, jello, banana pudding, and vanilla ice cream with sprinkles, "and THIS," holding up the chocolate ice cream, "is my 'SERT."  He rolled his eyes, wondering why such clarification was necessary. 

I couldn't argue with that - just as long as he ate his dinner first.  I got up to get more sticky buns.

Caleb on Being a Man

If you have never had a deep philosophical discussion with Caleb, you are really missing out. That kid loves to pontificate and is wise beyond his 4 short years.

The other day I told him to put a shirt on. He replied, "I can't. A man doesn't wear a shirt."

"What?"

He continued by explaining that one is either a human or a man. If you're a man, you're not a human, and vice-versa. (OK, so far I agree.) He went on to tell me that if you're a man you don't wear a shirt, especially when it is very cold, but when it is very hot you wear a heavy shirt. If you are a man you don't wear shoes when you walk on hot pavement and you never wear sunblock (he gets that from his father). A man gets a tall ladder and goes and sits up on his roof.

"Really?" I ask.

"Ya mom, I KNOW," as if I had before me the ultimate authority on manhood.

Then I asked a really stupid question, "Are you a man?"

"Ya-ah" (as in "du-uh.")

I asked if Luke was a man, and he looked at me as if I was completely off my rocker. "Mom, he's a BABY!" So at 2 you're a baby, but at 4, your a man. Got it.

Then I ask an ever stupider question. "Caleb, I am not wearing shoes. Am I a man?"

He just looked at me. "Mom," his eyebrows furrowed as if I had completely lost my mind, "you are NOT a man."

"Good," I said, "because I don't want to be a man."

Apparently I had spoken heresy. "What!? Mom, tell the truth!"

"It's true. I don't want to be a man."

He starts to get steamed, "Mom, no lying!"

"I'm not lying. I like being a human and a woman."

He just rolled his eyes at me as if I was ridiculously hopeless, and deep inside, he knew, I must really want to be a man. How could anyone not want to be a man?

Maybe Caleb is right, and somewhere deep down inside of me I want to be shirtless, shoeless, sitting on a hot roof with no sunblock. Naw.

Crying Over Spilled Milk

Whoever coined the phrase "there's no use crying over spilled milk" said it before milk was $4.65 a gallon. (Isn't that the same price as gas?) Holy Cow! (You'd think cows really were holy, for how much we spend on their milk!)

Yesterday I opened the door to the fridge and a whole unopened gallon of milk plopped out, busting on the floor, all over my shoes, the floor, the cabinets, running under the fridge. Some brilliant child - they're all brilliant, really - had cleverly perched the milk on top of some other items in the door, just enough to get the door closed. Silly me - I opened the door. We used every dirty towell in the house to soak it up. Luckily, being summer, we have a plethora of dirty towells lying around. Of course we were just running out the door for Church!

Then last night, Luke dropped a whole huge cup of milk on the floor. Cup went down - milk went up. You get the picture.

Then this morning, Derek was carrying a full gallon of milk to the kitchen table when he tripped and half of the gallon of the milk spilled onto the floor as he watched. What is it with kids just watching stuff spill? Pick it up, will ya?

And literally, as I was typing this, Caleb, carrying the unspilled half of the milk, told he couldn't have another yogurt, got mad and, in his fit, dropped the milk. This time it didn't spill or break, just spouted out the top! Unbelievable!

That is nearly 2 gallons of milk spilled in less than 24 hours.

So I'm crying over spilled milk, and I feel perfectly justified in doing so.

Yin and Yang

I walked out of my room the other day and say my twins curled up together on the sofa. In this picture they look like they are asleep, but they were actually awake, watching TV. I just thought they were so cute snuggling together like this, and I don't think they even realized it since they were so mesmerized by whatever was on TV. They do this kind of thing all the time. When they were tiny newborns, I would put them to sleep on opposite ends of the crib, and when I'd come in later, I'd find them curled up together in the middle of the crib - somehow they always found each other - they still do.
It is such a pleasure having these twins and watching their amazing relationship - it is unlike anything any of my other boys have. They don't really ever fight even though they are as different as can be. They are complete opposites (except for boy/girl and good/bad)- They are like yin and yang - opposites yet intertwined and supporting each other, working in harmony. They rely on each other.

It is amazing to watch. There is just something there - a bond I still don't quite understand. Did that bond happen in the close quarters of the womb? Or did they become twins because they were so close? Did they have such a great bond before this life that their Heavenly Father couldn't bear to separate them even for a few years? Maybe they decided to come together, like "I'll go if you go," or maybe, "I'm not leaving without him." However it happened, I feel so very blessed that they came here to our family and that I get to watch those two interact with each other every single day!

Cleaning Up His Image

The other day Luke was taking a bubble bath. He had a big blob of bubbles on his head, so I gave him a mirror so he could see the bubbles on his head. But he quickly became more interested in the funny face in the mirror. He was hilarious - laughing, pointing, and kissing the the blue-eyed babe in the mirror. Luckily my camera was nearby, so I snatched these candid pictures.

Who is that funny looking kid?

Our little Narcissist!

Luke is getting to know himself a bit better.

"BO BOs"

What's up?

So what do we do all week with dad and 2 big brothers

gone at scout camp?

Just HANG OUT!

We miss you, Daddy, Alex, and Nate!

Hope you're having this much fun.

The Van Clan

We thought a few introductions might be in order.



This is Alex. He is twelve and going into the 7th grade. He has recently been named our official built in babysitter - a post he enjoys since he loves being the boss. Alex collects rocks - he has quite an impressive (and heavy) collection. He loves science, and does very well in it at school. This year his science project made it all the way to the county competition. This kid is amazing at remembering things we have done and places we have been, even things that happened years ago when he was small - things Mom and Dad had almost forgotten. He is also the guy who keeps us on track and on schedule. He is like our walking event calendar, reminding us who needs to be where when. Alex is the kind of person who worries about and wants to help people that others may overlook. He is always looking for a chance to serve. Alex also makes the best Snickerdoodles you have ever tasted - seriously. He wants to be an orthodontist when he grows up.




This is Nathan. He is 11 and starting middle school in the fall. Nathan is a people-pleaser and loves to make people happy, especially Mom and Dad who rely on him a lot. We can always count on Nathan when we need help. Nathan collects pins, and has hundreds of really cool ones, especially Disney and Olympic pins. Nathan loves school, all subjects, and does well. He loves to raise his hand and answer the questions. It is amazing what that kid knows. Nathan loves to read, play with his Star Wars action figures, and has always loved hats, dressing up, and pretending. He loves friends and has a great sense of humor. He has a great smile which is good, since he is always smiling. He plays the saxophone as well as the piano. Nathan is our resident chef. He loves food and all things culinary. He can cook almost anything, but one of his favorites is baked ziti. Of course, Nathan wants to be a chef when he grows up, have a restaurant, and maybe be on Food Network.


This is Derek. Derek is nine and starting 4th grade. Derek is the only person I've ever met who is laid back and highly energetic simultaneously. He is so much fun to have around. He loves to make people laugh and lightens the mood whenever he is around. Tiggers bounce -well so does Derek. His feet are rarely on the ground. That's why he his writing a book "101 Ways to Break Your Glasses." (Well he could write that book). Derek is never angry. Never. He is always happy, or contemplative. One never knows what that kid is thinking about and one is never prepared for what he might say. His imagination is as active as he is. He is a bit of a slob, well more than a bit, but that's just Derek. Derek loves school and is a total whiz at math! He plays the trumpet and the piano. He is a hugger, not a kisser, and stands up for everything male and manly. Derek collects pressed pennies everywhere he finds a pressed penny machine, and has them from all over the world. The boys love to help him locate the machines whenever we go somewhere new. When he grows up, Derek wants to work with his dad in the insurance business.


This is Dylan. He is nine and going into the 4the grade. He is Derek's twin brother. They and definitely not identical, but are best of friends, and get along amazingly! Dylan is driven. He loves to do everything, and is driven to do everything well. A man of passions. He is often very serious, and can sit still for hours when working on some project. But he his not all serious. He didn't get the nickname "Silly Dilly" for nothing. Dylan is an artist in a true sense. He sees the world with an artist's eye, and is driven to recreate it artistically. Dylan loves school, and does very well. He sings and plays the French horn and the piano beautifully. It is so fun to watch him spar in martial arts because he is so scrappy, he is everywhere. He collects patches and has some really cool ones. Dylan is very neat and likes to keep things tidy, which is a great help around the house. He is very good with his little brothers and is always taking care of them. He also takes good care of his garden. Dylan wants to be a lot of things when he grows up, including an artist and a doctor, and knowing him, he'll probably be all of them.




This is Caleb. He is four, but longs to be five (according to Caleb, life begins when you're five), and he looks like he's six or seven. He will start kindergarten in the fall. Caleb is truly a unique individual. There is nobody quite like him. He is so single-minded. When he puts it in he head to do something, he will do it, one way or another, with or without someones help. He loves to watch everything - mom crafting, grandpa cooking, the plumber, well, plumbing, and then wants to get his hands right in there and do it himself. You'd be amazed how much he learns from watching! And he is so good with his hands. He always sits down with mom when she stamps, and he gets really creative and does some really nice and careful work (usually substituting dinosaur stamps for mom's flower stamps.) He is quite artistic. Caleb loves people, and loves to talk. A good conversation with Caleb has high entertainment value. He knows everything, just ask him. Caleb collects coins with Daddy's help. He wants to be a fire/policeman and wear a black uniform when he grows up.






This is Luke. He is two, and is becoming more two everyday. When he is not being two, he has the sweetest personality a kid could ever have. Luke gets much joy out of life and gets so excited by the littlest things - he cheers over his breakfast cereal, and has to share the good news anytime someone gives him some milk. He is very friendly and always says "hi' and "bye" to everyone and everything, "hi book", "bye grocery store." He talks a lot, but uses few words. Luke loves to sing, especially "Twinkle Little Star," only he doesn't use the words. When Luke is upset he will give you that "look" with the eyebrows and point his finger at you, or he will simply collapse on the floor and play dead. Luke brings so much joy to our home! He loves to cuddle, for which Mom is so grateful , since he is her baby. We don't know what Luke wants to be when he grows up, but we do know that we don't want him growing up any time soon.

This is me, Rachelle, AKA Mom. My kids sometimes call me mean, which I consider the highest of compliments. But whenI help them make a diorama for their class they call me the coolest mom in the world (also a compliment.) I am the defender of all things feminine in a sea of masculinity. I love anything pink, lacy, romantic, pretty, flowery, and girly in any way. I am the Queen in my home, and have the tiaras to prove it. I love old things and collect milk glass, vintage printed tablecloths, and a myriad other lovely old things. I love to create - whether it is stamping, crafting, decorating, or art. Watercolor is my passion, but I have little time for it. Someday... I love my rose garden, Jane Austin, and absolutely anything Italian. I am an early riser, swim four mornings a week, and get home before anyone is awake. I also love martial arts, which even surprises me. It isn't exactly a girly activity. That what happens when you are surrounded by so much testosterone. Who would have known that wrist locks and spinning hook kicks would be so much fun? I love my friends, and rely on them, and my Mom and sisters, for so much support and inspiration. I love being a mom and feel so lucky to be able to be home with my guys.

This is Dennis, AKA Dad. Dennis loves kids, and would have had a dozen of then if mom would be convinced (she won't be convinced!). Dennis has his own insurance business, Acsend Insurance Agency, and loves what he does. He is a people person, and enjoys being able to get to know people and help them. He has a new beautiful office with a very cool fish tank. Come by and see it sometime. He works very hard, and is very self-motivated. Anytime he has a dream, he finds a way to get it done. Dennis is an eternal optimist. "It will be fine," is his favorite line (and it drives me, the pessimist, crazy.) He is rarely ruffled. Dennis is a natural born athlete, and has picked up almost any sport with ease. His favorites are baseball, basketball, golf, and tennis. He is the master of his grill, and loves to man his barbecue. He loves to spend time with his family, and is so good about taking boy time so mom can get a break. He is always planning fun family activities and trips. Dennis is a scout leader, and loves scouting with his boys. His family is his life, and everything he does is for them.

So that's us, the VanBuskirks - eight very different and wonderful personalities. The Lord picked this team, and we think it is a winning combination.