Not so adventures of the St. Clair clan...

Apparently being a homeschool Marm and having babies on the move, who think napping is an optional activity, cuts into my writing time.  A month has just flown by without me.  It isn't for lack of having things to say.  I have lots to say.  I might not remember what I am saying, what I've said, or want I wanted to say most days.  Again, I blame that on the two darling babies who don't love sleep as much as I do.   It's probably best I haven't written in a month.  It's been a rollercoaster at home, in our state, and across the country.  I've started to write and then deleted more Facebook posts than I have published this month.  Sometimes it just feels good to write it.  It also feels good to delete it when you're done.  The mantra we learned in kindergarten is still true.  "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."  My better half has helped keep me grounded in this, and I appreciate him more everyday because of it.  

I got peed on yesterday.  Was puked on twice.  I mean it was spit-up, but the babies are eating solid food now, so puke.  I touched poop by accident.  Not mine.  Boogers happened.  Basically, I managed some sort of direct contact with every possible bodily fluid, none of which were my own.  Then I smashed two of the biggest fastest spiders I have yet to meet.  Tarantulas with jetpacks.   I thought about texting Ross to see if he was interested in changing places, but then I remembered he was calling students and their parents.  I'd rather take all of the body fluids, diapers, bottom wipings, and spiders than make one single parent phone call.  Not. My. Jam.   Sometimes it feels like the baby and toddler stage is infinity years long.  I have to remind myself that we will not be wiping bottoms and noses forever...........I take that back.  We will definitely  still be wiping bottoms and noses; they will just be our own.  Ahem.   What I'm saying is, I know these days won't las

We are officially a home school family.  It wasn't what we planned, but I don't think anyone planned for 2020, so here we are.   I decided to start on September 1st.  Ross was already back at work, we needed some structure in our day, and it also meant our first week would only be four days long.  That seemed like a bonus.   We spent the week prior talking to Sawyer about school and trying to pump him up about getting started.  I wanted to make it feel  like a first day of school.  We bought supplies, talked about things we'd be doing, and I let him choose the dinner menu for his first day.   He picked cougar.   I SAID cougar.   One of Ross' friends gifted him a cougar roast and some stew meat.  We're so lucky.  And I got to figure out how to cook it.  I'm so lucky.  I cooked it to its second death.  Cougar leather.  We called it brain food, and the boys demolished it.  I hope it works.  Day 1: I got up at 5:45 so I could get breakfast started, lunches made and

Exhausted.  Mentally and emotionally drained.  And that's where I'm at, at the end of this week.  I'm almost embarrassed to admit it.  I've been defeated by a six-year-old and a three-year-old.  Plus a couple of babies.   This is Ross' first week back to school full-time after a wonderfully long summer and spring of being mostly at home.  We are grateful he has a job, but we are sad to see him go.  This is the first time since March that I have been running solo with all four kids all day everyday.  I was feeling pretty low by the end of this week, and then I had to give myself a reality check.  We have a friend who has been doing this for a whole year.  No nights off.  No weekends off.  Her husband has been deployed since last fall.  I have it pretty good.   But, lest you think better of me than you should, sit tight, and I'll give you a little glimpse into our week.   We don't do transitions well. Monday started with Ross rolling out of the driveway in our

Food is my love language.  Somebody pointed that out to me once, and I realized immediately that they were correct.  I enjoy feeding my family well, and I love treating people to good food.  I get giddy talking to people about food, reading about food, growing food, and looking at pictures of other people's food or gardens.  I have a cookbook problem.  I'm a dutch oven hoarder and a knife snob.  And I have an obsession with butter.   When I want to show extra appreciation to my spouse, I cook red meat for dinner.   When I'm not super pleased with my spouse, we eat vegetarian with a side of squash.  Then we talk.       I take special interest in remembering people's preferences...unless they are my kids.  I love them by making them try all the vegetables and weird things on their plates.  It's for their future health (and wives).  Because I love them.   Food can change a person's mood.  I know this from experience.  Ask my sister.  I hate the word "hangry,&q

I ran and hid from my kids today.  We weren't playing hide-and-go-seek.  I was eating a chocolate peanut butter bar, and it was barely after breakfast.  I saw them coming, so I ran and closed myself in the babies room.  At that point I was no longer enjoying the treat, I was just trying to get it down as fast as I could so as not to be found out.   The boys didn't catch me, but I did give myself a stomach ache.  That's when it hit me: I think I'm scared of my children.  I'm an adult.  I've paid my penance.  I made those chocolate-peanut butter bars.  Why do I feel compelled to sneak them?    It's the same reason I let the kids have one more minute in the toy aisle, even after I already told them time was up five minutes ago.  And it's why I avoid coffee shops when they are with me. It's why I read them that one book that I have read sixty-seven times already. They.  Scare.  Me.  I am avoiding conflict, confrontation, temper tantrums, and

Twinning over here.  Twinning and winning.  Only because they are both asleep at the moment.  I looked at their precious sleeping faces and thought to myself, "sleeping babies are like rainbows - rare and fleeting."  We're sleep training again.  Round one didn't take.  These girls are way more stubborn than their brothers were.  We are in for it.  But I'm already stockpiling ammunition for when they are older (figuratively speaking, so don't get your panties in a bunch.  Their dad has the real stuff, but that's for the future boyfriends.  Consider yourselves warned boys.)  Personally, I am working on my album of embarrassing pictures.  I realize now why my mom actually permed my hair.  These girls were gifted some twin outfits - pink, ruffly things with bucket hats to match.  They are so great.  So on they went.  So. Much. Pink.  And I took many pictures.  I also took the girls in their pink ensemble to the grocery store.  I wore the girls in my twin

Every season has it's enjoyment, but I feel like we really ramp up the "memory making" in the summer months.  Maybe it's because we have Ross home and more time for doing things out of the ordinary.  We have a more flexible schedule and more freedom to do "fun" things.  I enjoy thinking about what the kids will remember from these days.  They are still pretty young so it may be just a feeling that stays with them or a vague recollection here and there, but I hope they remember it was a good time of life.    A couple of days ago they boys went with Ross and loaded some fresh roadkill in the trunk of our car.  That's legal now in our state.  They came home thrilled with their find...all three of them.  Sawyer told me, "This is the best day ever, right Mom?!"  Boy, if I had known that's all it took, we could have saved a lot of money.  They got to help skin it.  I'm sure a three-year-old with a skinning knife is perfectly safe in all 50

There was a redhot second not too long ago that I considered my future in the corporate world or any money-making part of the world to be a bleak one.  I'm a stay- at-home mom.  I used to be a teacher and a coach, but by the time our kids are all in school, I'll have spent as much time out of the classroom as I spent in it.  I'm rusty.  Outdated.  And look, I'm blogging, do people even do that anymore?  I'm definitely not tweeting, snap chatting, or  tic tocking (what is tic tocking?).  It's safe to say I may be a little out of touch.  But as I went down the 'whoa is me' path, it occurred to me that my initial estimation was incorrect.  Stay-at-home moms are actually perhaps qualified to do all the jobs. Overqualified.  Consider this my resume.  Speaks multiple languages: baby sign language, toddler talk, pre-school speak Skilled in basic first aid and intermediate injury assessment, care, and rehabilitation. Highly practiced at crisis management

While we don't feel like the most social individuals in the world, Ross and I have discovered that we enjoy opening our home to people.  Is extroverted introverts a thing?  In recent days, we have come to realize how important in-person relationships are.  We (humans) were created for relationship and fellowship.  We feel extrememly blessed to live where we do in the home that we have.  We want to share.  We want people to feel welcome here and comfortable to drop in.  You may have to ignore the six or seven pairs of dirty socks on the floor, look past the dirty handprints on the wall, and be okay with a little stickiness on the counters, but you are welcome here.  We might have different opinions, come from different backgrounds, bring different baggage, but we hope we can still be friends.  Please remember there are kids in the room.  Expect them to be loud...and dirty but also expect them to be respectful and polite.  They talk a lot.  We like to fill people's bell

I like asking kids what they want to be when they grow up.  Their answers range from fairly predictable to surprising and entertaining.  Our kids are no exception.  For a long time Sawyer has wanted to be a logger (fitting considering his name).  That still tops his list, but he says he's also considering being a cowboy with a rope (lasso).  Fischer wanted to be a doctor for awhile, but lately that has changed to a logger, and when he's done with that, a ballerina.  I think a ukulele player may also be in the mix.  We call that "well rounded."  What they will NOT be is stand-up comedians. I like to listen to the boys' conversations when they don't know I'm there.  I did this the other night after they had gone to bed.  I was about to go in their room to quiet them down, but I caught wind of their conversation and stopped myself.  They were taking turns telling knock, knock jokes.  And they were terrible!  It went something like this: Sawyer: Knock, kno

Covid 19 doesn't scare me.  I don't like it.  I wish it hadn't happened, and I wish it would go away.  But it doesn't scare me.  It's not because I don't believe it's real or because I don't believe it can have serious consequences for a percentage of those who are infected.  It's simply that even though it's out of control, I know who is in control.  God isn't surprised by any of this.  He tells us not to worry or be fearful.  I kind of figure He knows best, so okay.  Just like with anything that can harm us, we try to make good choices and take proper precautions.  I have always been a bit of a manic handwasher.  Ross, maybe not so much.  The kids are getting better.  We aren't attending nightclubs or you know, licking stuff that's been handled by other people...I speak for myself.  We are really working hard on this with the boys.  I don't think Fischer has chewed on his shoes all of this month.  Progress! In general, I ha

I think everyone wants to feel normal or to know that the way they feel is normal.  Hopefully, I can give you some reassurance that being abnormal is...normal.  What most of us are allowed to see of other people's lives whether it be an Instagram feed, Facebook post, or even the little time we spend together is generally the best version of ourselves.  Case-in-point, I cleaned my house before company came for dinner last Thursday.  Aside from some dishes and a quick sweeping of the floor, I have done nothing since.  Today is Monday.  Currently, every room of our house including the hallway, both bathrooms, the entryway into our house and the back porch are littered with toys, clothes, suitcases, dirt, and garbage.  And the occasional dead fly.  This is life.  It's not that I don't strive for a nice, clean, organized house and family, but that is not currently my reality.  I started to do laundry, and somebody was hungry.  I was cleaning the floors and somebody needed wip

Due to moving...and then moving again...and four kids...sleep training babies...Internet issues...and summer (let's face it, we'd rather be outside), it's been a little while since I've sat at a keyboard.  Plus, with all that is going on in the world, my superficial internal-monologue felt a little trite.  I like happy thoughts.  I didn't want to write about the Corona Virus, but that seemed to be all we were talking about.  It was dominating every facet of our lives.  In many ways it still is.  The truth is, Covid 19 has probably had more positive impacts on our family (don't hate me for saying it) than negative.  It has blessed us with so much more time together and given us some flexibility to be more creative with how we use our time and resources.  BUT.  But even while we have enjoyed this bonus family time, we recognize the negative impact the virus has had on others.  We have had many friends and family who have dealt more directly with job loss, income

Hangry.  This is one of my least favorite "words."  It's right up there with "nosh" or "noshing" and "nom, nom, nom."  Worst. Ever.  It does, however, fairly accurately describe my current and constant state.  I'm starving.  All.  The.  Time.  I mean, starving in a very first world form of the word.  But in the last three months and twenty days, I've been hungry exactly all of the time.  Something about nursing two babies and trying to keep two toddlers alive apparently burns all of the Calories. If you think teenagers go through food, you haven't seen anything until you witness the damage a nursing twin-mom can do over the course of a day.  First breakfast, second breakfast, a snack before lunch and one after, plus dinner and please don't bother packing up the leftovers, I'll eat those too.  Anyone hungry for dessert? In the midst of eating all the food, it became obvious that for the sake of the babies' stomach i

In the past three months Corona Virus has more or less turned the world on its head.  I feel almost guilty for not being more stressed or put out by the whole thing.  We have been extremely fortunate. What we thought was a most impractical move on our part, wound up being a huge blessing.  With our two boys and our two newborns, we moved out of our house with no yard in the city limits and into my parents' house in the country while waiting for our new house to be completed.  The weekend we moved "quarantine," "social distancing," and "shelter in place" became the new mantra of our state.   Moving in with my parents meant ten plus acres of play space and two extra able bodied adults to help even out the score with the four kids.  Win for the St. Clair's!  Unfortunately, my parents are beginning to realize they may have made an error in judgement.   Yesterday, Sawyer gave their cat swimming lessons.   Last week the boys went fishing i

Listen.  I wanted boys.  I think they are fun.  And funny...sometimes.  I like the way they play and do life.  Their imaginations are my favorite.  Their energy is contagious (and sometimes exhausting).  I really love my boys.  It's just that, they are so gross.  I have a pretty strong stomach.  I mean, I helped pick-out cadavers at the cadaver Costco back in college.  I watched a classmate eat tuna while we taught the muscles on said cadavers to underclassmen.  That, my friends, was a low point.  I've dealt with every possible bodily fluid on my gym floor as a PE teacher.  Note: poop and jump rope don't jive.  I've helped dig a van out of sewer sludge in Mexico - gag reflexes in full force on that one.  I've cleaned cockroach infested fridges and mouse poop covered cabinets (not mine).  Taking all this into account, I was still not prepared for how gross little boys are.  And five years into this boy mom gig, I'm shocked that I can still be surprised by

Our boys.  They play together, they fight together.  They are doing the brother thing all day every day.  Harassing, picking, being victims, being instigators.  Sawyer is usually blamed for things because he A) doesn't tattle on people, B) doesn't try to hide what he's doing, and C) will admit to doing whatever it is he has done.  Fischer.  Fischer tattles, screams, cries, lies, and sneaks.  But he has really beautiful eyes and can turn on the waterworks like an A-list actor.  Plus, he's younger and has only recently come into his own.  He gets away with a lot.  Instead of just reacting to his older brother, Fischer has started dishing it back a little. I got a text from Ross a few weeks ago that went like this: Fischer is hiding pretend (read: non-existent) eggs for Sawyer to find.  So far, Sawyer hasn't found any, but he's determined to.   Fischer keeps telling him he's close!    Poor Sawyer never did find any of the eggs, but he is a little more a

A little girl lives across the street from our house.  She's probably nine-years-old.  To our five-year-old, that makes her a big girl.  And he LOVES big girls.  He's fascinated and a little.....okay a lot....obsessed with them.  Case in point, he met his cousin's older cousin two and a half years ago, and he still talks about her, wants to call her, invite her to his birthday, and visit her all. the. time.  He has met her ONCE.  She was sweet, truly.  But he begged to name his sister's after her, obsessed.      Anyway, this neighbor girl rode scooters with him the other afternoon.  That was her mistake.  I let it happen.  It was entertaining.  He shared all kinds of fun facts with her.  She now knows that he has a BB gun, rattle snakes can kill you, he can do wheelies, Black Betty is one of his favorite songs, sloppy joe's are really delicious, and whale sharks are the biggest fish in the sea.  And there may have been something about coconut crabs...   It was

I love the contrasting sides of our children.  It's one of my favorite things that I didn't know I was going to love.  I think it's fair to say that when we have kids, we all know we will love the squishy babies, hearing kids laugh, seeing holidays through their eyes, and dressing them in the cute little outfits (I'm told boys don't wear outfits , but it's my blog). I didn't know how much I'd love seeing my loud, dirt loving, gun fanatic, wrestling maniac five-year-old turn into the sweetest and most gentle big brother while holding his baby sister.  He sits and quietly tells her stories about his fishing and hunting conquests unaware of anyone else in the room, and my heart absolutely melts. Then we have my slightly crusty, flannel loving, mismatching three-year-old that will choose a princess dress from the costume closet because although he likes sand and rocks and sticks and filth, he also likes and appreciates things that are beautiful. I lov

I feel like a poser.  I'm working hard at doing this whole "adult" thing, but I'm pretty sure I'm over-aged to be this under qualified. I wonder why they teach Geometry, World Lit., Biology, Global Studies, and Physical Education in school, but they don't offer a class called Real Life.  I know a lot of 'real life' is integrated into these other classes, and you're supposed to glean life lessons alongside right angles, but I think I needed Captain Obvious Real Life as a core class in high school.  And because we are all idiots in high school, it needed to be offered again in college.  Maybe you weren't an idiot, but I certainly was, and I feel like some of that never wore off. As a kid, I thought adults had it all figured out.  They were beyond the insecurities and self consciousness of youth, they knew exactly what to do in any situation, and how to handle themselves.  Small talk wasn't a problem.  Matching clothing came naturally.  Pa

I used to think I was a morning person.  I don't always enjoy waking up, but I do enjoy being  up, especially when the majority of the world (or at least our house) is still asleep.  That has happened all of never  times since our first born arrived on the scene five and a half years ago.  It's not entirely his fault.  I may or may not have trained him to be an early riser.  In order to run with friends, we had to get an early (read 4:45 am) start.  Eventually, that time moved back to 5:00 and then 5:30, but our boy really enjoyed the 5:00 am or before time frame because it took us four years to get him sleeping until something remotely close to 6:00 am.  He wakes up full throttle.  There is no easing into a state of wakefulness.  It could be singing or dancing or kickboxing, but if you are the sad sap that happens to still be in bed when he greets the day, you better protect your soft tissue.  For his sake, I hope he always wakes up early with such ease...and joy.  It wi

I'll let you in on a little secret: the happiest place on earth is NOT Disneyland.  When the booing and hissing subsides, I'll tell you what is the happiest place.  Wait for it.  Waaaait for it...Okay.  It's this place we affectionately call the "broken down house."  It might be a similar place for you.  Basically, it's the outdoors with no traffic, no screens, no play structures except those that occur naturally - you know, like trees and mud puddles.  It's magical.  We are going to live in this magical place soon and I hope the fascination and excitement stays with us long after the newness wears off.  The boys are free to dig, cut, climb, build, and imagine all sorts of creative schemes.  They've dug oceans, built spaceships, made monster truck tracks, and become very efficient loggers (with handsaws) since we started visiting this property.  They aren't the only one with imaginations at full tilt either.  Ross has his visions for the prop

I love our kids.  I love them in a way I never knew was possible until I had them in my arms for the, well, like the tenth time.  The first few times I was pretty exhausted and a little delirious.  But since then it has been total and unconditional love - not to the "moon and back" because that line has been pretty well over done, but in Sawyer's words and the ultimate compliment, "as much as garbage trucks!"  I love them.  But sometimes, sometimes...I don't like them.  Today is one of those days. Oh, they are hard today.  We've all been there.  I hope.  They woke up looking for a fight, and despite my best intentions I gave them exactly  what they were looking for.  They are mouthy to me and ornery to each other.  Every activity they choose is either dangerous or destructive and everything is loud.  The fighting is loud.  The whining is loud.  The play is loud.  And I'm loud right along side them.  In my head, I am a gentle guide who quietly cor

I may have mentioned somewhere that I'm a little overtired.  Naturally, that led me to try something new.  I recruited our boys to pick dinner recipes and cook with me once a week.  Because cooking with a three and five-year-old takes no patience whatsoever. The truth is, so long as I can handle a little extra mess and the fact that it may take a bit longer, the boys are pretty capable.  They look through their cookbook (I highly recommend the Sesame Street books - simple, healthy and actually pretty tasty recipes) and pick out the recipe they want to cook with me.  Then I set them up with tasks that are appropriate. Our first round Fischer picked salad with hard boiled eggs and Sawyer picked a simple chicken Parmesan recipe.  It turns out that Fischer doesn't like salad and Sawyer doesn't like chicken Parmesan.  Go figure.  Round two was a little more successful.  Fischer picked banana pancakes and Sawyer picked sloppy joes and cream of "any old thing" soup (

I'm.  So.  Tired.  Not like the 'I've been working hard and am exhausted' kind of tired.  This is the 'I'm an eight to nine hour girl getting four to six non-continuous hours for two months straight and I can't focus on your words or keep my eyes from crossing and definitely shouldn't be driving' kind of tired.  So tired that I can't make simple sentences or remember words, I forgot how to make oatmeal (I've only made it every morning for the last ten years), I mixed up the twins...more than once, and I put lotion on my toothbrush... What I'm saying is, I should be napping right now instead of writing this because all four kids are in bed resting, if not sleeping.  But who has time for that?  Besides, oh there it is, as soon as I even think about sleep, the twins start crying...and just on cue both are letting me know they can hear my thoughts.  Silly me.  (Seriously though, how do they know?!)  I have an appreciation for twin parents

A friend stopped by the other day with her sons who are about the same age as our boys.  Our boys were on a weekend getaway with the grandparents - they hated every second of it.  Between the bonfires, rock collecting, cutting stuff down, side-by-side rides, BB guns, and trampoline you can see why they didn't want to come home.  Goals.  Anyway, back to my friend.  She brought her boys in the house while ours were gone, and the most incredible thing happened: they didn't say a word. They played with toys in silence  the length of their visit!  I didn't know that was a thing! In contrast, the carpet cleaners came to shampoo our carpet last month.  Our boys talked to them the entire  time.  Carpet shampooers are NOT quiet machines.  Our boys are louder.  Mike from Stanley Steamer (shout out to Stanley Steamer for a great job) now knows everything Sawyer has ever done or wanted to do in his entire life. Mike got a $20 tip for graciously listening to and responding to an hour

When does modesty set in for boys?  Or at least the inkling of modesty?  Asking for a friend. This has never been an issue for our boys...at least not when they are sleeping.  The rest of the time it's pretty much a crap-shoot whether or not they are wearing an appropriate amount of clothing. My friend's son is a full year younger than Sawyer and he has started getting dressed in the bathroom for privacy.  I'm hoping he's just advanced for his age because Sawyer just got busted the other night dancing naked in front of our living room window.  When Ross asked him what he was doing he said, "I don't know, Dad.  I'm just a wild man." Touché, son, but maybe we could be a little less public about it.     In the same vein, our boys do their bathroom business naked with the bathroom door wide open.  TMI?  Sorry, not sorry.  I asked Sawyer once why he strips down, and he said it was so that he didn't get his clothes messy.  Like, what exactly are y

**Disclaimer: this is in no way a nutritional recommendation.  I am not a licensed nutritionist, dietitian, or health care professional.  These observations are purely based on experience.   Our boys are now three and five and they are not the best eaters.  That probably shocks exactly no one.  In fact, I'm pretty sure 99% of parents with preschool aged children just nodded and said "amen."  If you are part of the one percent, you also nodded and said "amen" because you didn't want to find yourself hated and ostracized by parents of preschool aged children everywhere. Our oldest son will generally try at least a bite of something.  If dessert is at stake, he may even force himself to clear his plate of an entire undesirable food thing.  Our youngest, on the other hand, has the superpower of being able to puke on command if he doesn't like something.  It makes it tricky. Their tastes and preferences are totally different.  That really throws a wrenc

We try to instill in our kids the virtues and importance of sharing.  We share because we want others to share with us.  It's the right thing to do.  The nice thing to do. We are part of something bigger, and we need each other, so we share... ...but let me be clear, I'm not sharing.  I'm not trying to be a hypocrite here.  It's just that I shared my body with each of these little humans for no less than nine months.  I'm stretchy where I didn't use to be stretchy.  I have scars where I didn't use to have scars.  My legs are now road maps of veins that didn't use to show.  Don't even get me started on what remains of my belly button... So, I'm not sharing. I'm eating an entire ice cream cake by. my. self.  And I'm not sharing one. single. bite. Thank you and Amen.

My parents failed to mention that parenting is hard.  Obviously they had it pretty easy, or this little oversight would never have happened.  They are responsible adults after all.  Five and a half years in to this parenting gig, and the reality that it is hard continues to hit me on a regular basis.  For a hot second, we thought we were getting the hang of it with our two vivacious boys.  God doesn't let pride take hold for long I've noticed.  Just when we started patting ourselves on the back, He helped us back to our knees with the addition of two more...girls.   We don't do girls.   Or at least we didn't.  God decided to dismiss that idea as well because let's face it, we were pretty proud of the fact that we didn't "do girls."  And now we do.   Luckily, I've found that dinosaurs and flowers go together and pink matches camouflage just fine.  And while we are still getting the hang of wiping "front to back," we are als