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

 A while back I had a conversation with a friend.  Yes, I have friends.   Fine...it was an acquaintance. The point is, we got on the topics of school as is often the case.  She mentioned that she had asked a kindergarten teacher what she would like kids to know when they started school.  The teacher, she said, wanted kids to come in knowing the basics.  I considered that our boys know their colors, shapes, numbers and letters and proceeded to mentally pat myself on the back and breathe a sigh of relief.    Then she continued to say, the basics like personal hygiene, how to wipe their own bottoms, get dressed after using the bathroom, wash their hands, and open the food in their lunch pails... My heart sank as I looked at our youngest with his shirt on backwards, his pants on backwards, undoubtedly his underwear on backwards and his socks upside down.  Then I looked at our oldest, his boxers were bunched so high that the legs were above the waistline of his pants, and that was because h

 I felt I should waste no time following up my "How They Play" post with a "How They Fight" entry, lest anyone thinks it's all rainbows and butterflies over here.  Rainbows and butterflies are for liars...and hippies.   The boys are great at finding creative ways to play.  This is also true for fighting.  Anyone who scoffs at the "boys will be boys" line, has clearly never tried parenting brothers.  Although, sisters are pretty physically aggressive in their own right.  Case in point, we had to transition the twins from baby jail yesterday to baby jail cells.  Too much fighting and to be more specific, biting, was taking place.   I don't think the boys have ever bitten each other, but pretty much anything else you can think of and probably a few things you can't, have taken place and we are only a couple of years in.  We don't condone or encourage them to physically hurt one another, and they most definitely do receive consequences for figh

 The boys had to take in their handsaws Friday to get sharpened.  They were as dull as cardboard, and I felt bad seeing them working so hard to get results.  They have put some miles on those things.  We went to a local chainsaw shop and Sawyer made the transaction at the counter.  He was all business.  He handed over the saws and asked to have them sharpened then waited for the paperwork to be completed, and said "Mexcuse me?" (He knows it's "excuse me" but he likes how "mexcuse me" sounds better, so he says it that way - his words.) "What else can I do for you?" The man asked him.   "Do you have any Razor tooth saws?"  I didn't even know that was a thing.  Apparently, it is because the man pointed him right to what he was looking for.  He examined each one, but they were far out of his budget of $1, so he was forced to put his purchase on hold.   We went home and the boys settled into riding loops around a little track they ha

Nobody told me when we moved out here, how far I'd be from ice cream.  I ran out, and it's been a source of anguish for like a good five days.  It's not that I haven't had opportunity during the week to go out and buy some, but I can't let the circus of children come with me or they would know. And if they know, they want me to share.  I'm just not into that. I may have mentioned my closet eating before.  This falls into that category.   Speaking of loving ice cream, Fischer has a similar passion for all things bread related.  But he is particularly fond of French toast, pancakes, and waffles.  You can imagine his elation then, when he and his brother were unexpectedly gifted their very own waffle maker.  This isn't just any waffle iron either.  This thing creates waffle building blocks.  Yes, it does.  Consequently, Sawyer, who isn't a lover of the breakfast breads, was almost as pumped as his brother.  There was no question I'd be making waffles th

I wandered into the back yard the other day and caught Sawyer jumping up from where he had been laying in the dirt.  He ran over to me and Fischer promptly took his place.  "What are you up to?" I asked.   "Oh, we are just laying in the dirt with our eyes open and our tongues hanging out of our mouths, trying to attract a turkey vulture." "Oh," I said, as if it was a perfectly normal pastime.  I looked up, and sure enough, there was a vulture...circling.   "And what will you do if one lands on you?"  I looked at Fischer laying on the ground.  Bait. "If it lands on Fischer, I'm going to jump on it and hug it." "Huh, interesting.  Then what?" That's where their scheme fell apart.  After hugging the bird (he's really into birds lately), the plan was pretty sketchy.  I was, however, impressed with the teamwork they were applying and the forethought that had gone into it up to that point.  It wasn't much, but it see

 When Ross and I decided to try having kids, we were pretty late to the game.  It was (as it should be) a big decision.  I like babies and toddlers, teenagers are fine, but there are some years in the middle that, as a teacher, I wasn't a fan of.  Somewhere in the six to nine range, when " I know " is the most common response.  Yes, you've been alive for less than a decade and conscious of the world for like three years, clearly " you know."   I struggled with this age group, and wasn't sure we should take the leap.  But we leapt anyway.   We prayed for boys.   "I'll take two boys, please."   Boys, we reasoned, would be easier.  They are less emotional, easier to dress - hello jeans and t-shirts, less worrisome in the real world, a nd  Ross would be required to do the birds and bees talk, not me.  So, boys! God gave us boys.   It turns out, boys can also be emotional rollercoasters.  Our big guy fluctuates from incredible highs to incredibl