"Mom, take a picture!"

How could I say no?  Merry Christmas to all!

Decorating El Fako

 Tired of waiting for El Fako to be set up, the kids started decorating themselves.

The tree in all its pre-fluffed glory.  Michael is examining the string of lights that had gone out.  It's still on the tree and it's still out. That's the way we roll.

 Decorating.

It was Ethan's turn to put the angel on the tree.  Just goes to show that you are never to old to be picked up to put the angel on the tree.  But sometimes you get too heavy so then mom just pretends to pick you up as you stand on the arm of the couch.

NOSTALGIA ALERT!

Here he is putting the same angel on La Reala FOUR years ago:

And EIGHT years ago:

Warning: Gross Stuff Ahead

If your stomach is easily upset, you may be better off skipping this post.  With the disclaimer out of the way, I shall start.

Sam has been having problems cleaning himself properly after using the bathroom.  There has been poop smeared on the toilet seat and on other surfaces.  He struggles with wiping well (if at all) and rarely washes his hands. This has led to additional instruction on proper hygiene with frequent reminders.  He has learned how to properly clean the toilet because I got tired of doing it.  Things were getting better.

Then I walked into the bathroom and I almost lost my lunch as well as my sanity.  The entire toilet, the seat, the back, the tank was covered in brown splatter.  I was too traumatized to even step into the bathroom.  How was this even humanly possible?  What is wrong with his sphincter?  Gah!!  This is disgusting.  I quickly dashed out of the bathroom, grabbed Sam, a rag, and a spray bottle of vinegar water.  I instructed him (in a mostly not yelling voice) to go clean the toilet until it was "Mom clean".

After a few minutes I reluctantly went to check on his progress.  He was giggling as he cleaned.  What the heck?  He looked at me with cheery eyes and announced, "I sneezed a dog cookie."  Yep, the brown splatter was the result of Sam sneezing while eating a dog biscuit.  It says something that I was deeply relieved to realize the mess was caused simply by my child eating dog food.  Proper diet may need to be the next item that receives some additional instruction.

Growing Pains

My pain, not theirs.  I am having pains watching them grow up.  When they were little I wholeheartedly celebrated every milestone.  Walking? Yes!! Talking? Yes!!! Potty trained?  Oh, heck yeah! Done with little bitty baby clothes?  Donate those suckers.  Outgrew the baby carseat?  Sell it on craigslist.  Outgrew pretty dresses?  Pass them to the neighbor.  All that beautiful artwork you made me with hand-prints on it?  Recycled when they weren't looking.  I am not sentimental.  I loved seeing them get bigger and didn't feel the need to hold onto objects from their babyhood.  It was exciting enough just to watch them grow up.

All of a sudden it isn't as exciting anymore.  I'm turning into one of those women who kept saying to the poor sleep deprived new mothers, "Treasure this, it goes so fast."  I've refrained from saying it in my out loud voice, but my inner voice screeches it.

Today Sam was reading these books:

 

I remember the first set I bought when Ethan was four.  He knew all his letter sounds and letter names so I decided he was ready for the next step.  We drove out to a homeschool supply store, and on the advice of the cashier/homeschooler, we picked up some early reader books, called BOB books.  Ethan sat in the backseat and sounded his way through the first one on the ride home.  Over the next month or so he read all of the dozen little paperbacks that came in the set.  He was well on his way to reading and I was feeling a little less scared by the notion of homeschooling.

A couple years later I sat down with the same books and started to teach Libby to read.  Her process was much different than her brother's, but learn to read she did.

Last year I started teaching Grace to read and I bought a new set of trusty BOB books.  The first set had become hopelessly scattered and lost due to a few years, a move, and life with four children.  The new set was just like the old set, so we started to learn to read again.

This year Sam is five. (Only Ethan started learning to read at four.  He may have been highly motivated or maybe I had more energy then.  It's hard to know for sure.)  We pulled out the BOB books and Sam started reading.  The first story is about a person named Sam.  My Sam was hooked.

Today this happened:

He read the very last book in the blue box of BOB books.  My heart broke a little bit.  I put the last book back in the box with the others.  I can't seem to throw it in my donate box, the one I happily threw the boys' blessing outfits and all their first shoes into.  My emotions are all wrapped up in those books.  I put them back on my shelf, knowing that I no longer need them or have any use for them, but I can't seem to part with them.  Somehow this is the item that breaks my heat to part with.  Maybe it's because I'm finally starting to realize just how big my kids are now.  I spent so much time laboring over these little books with my little children.  So much of our tears and joys were invested in this first step to reading.  These little paperbacks are weighted down with emotions and memories.  My inner screecher is happily yelling, "I told you so! They grow so fast.  You better hold onto these books forever and ever.  Hold onto their childhood!"  I've reached that point.  I'm going to start telling women with new babies, who are sleep deprived and hormonal, "Treasure this, they grow up so fast."

All Hallow's Eve

I love when Halloween falls on a Saturday.  It just makes the day perfect.

We all got up early and cleaned the church building.  Okay, everyone else cleaned, I just wandered around aimlessly. By the time we got there everything was mostly claimed and/or done.  Michael took the kids home and I wogged (this is a real word; I don't care what the squiggly red line says) home.

After I took a much-needed shower we carved some pumpkins.  One year Grace and Sam are going to want to carve their own pumpkins.  Right now they are content to dictate designs, scoop a few guts, and wield a knife for a few moments.  Then they walk off while Michael and I finish their pumpkins.

Sam is hiding, as he should be.  He instructed Michael he wanted the girl vampire from Hotel Transylvania.  He scooped out about two seeds and then wandered off and left the rest to Michael.  Grace did a little bit of the carving on her pumpkin but struggled to cut curved lines.

All lit up!

After the necessary clean up, we ate lunch and then had the most important part of the day: My birthday!  The kids gave me cards they pilfered from my closet.  The girls gave me sculpy creations and chocolate.  Sam gave me a card and Ethan gave me...his love? Michael gave me flowers and an arm strap for my phone so I can take it wogging and not have to put my phone in my brocket (spell check does not like me today).

Excruciating hours later, the kids finally got to their favorite part of the day.  We put on our costumes, made a brief appearance at the church party just long enough to eat dinner, and then headed back home.  It was time to hit the neighbors up for candy.

My niece Isabelle joined us.  We had Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley.  I was honored to take the three most powerful witches and wizards in history trick-or-treating.

Sam vacillated until that very evening on his costume decision.  At the 11th hour he finally settled on Batman.  Thank goodness we have a well-stocked bin of hand-me-down costumes from all the older cousins.

Grace knew exactly what she wanted to be for weeks.  Say hello to Pippi Longstocking.  Her costume made me so happy.  Watching her run around the neighborhood with her braids bobbing up and down was the most adorable thing (and yes, there is a wire coat hanger in her hair).

Watch out...

 for...

those spells!

And Batman is a true gentleman.  Did you ever doubt it?