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

The individual who coined the phrase, "Nothing is certain but death and taxes" must have been married to the person who did his/her laundry and dishes.  I'm just speculating.  If I ever get caught up on either of those, I'll post it here.   I'd write more frequently, but we have been on the go this month and laundry and dishes have taken over my life, much to my chagrin.  My family, on the other hand, is probably relieved, as I tend to overshare.  I can't help myself.  It's like our boys, I taught them the correct spelling of b-u-t-t because they were doing it wrong.  Now they won't stop. Sawyer explained to me that it's just in his head and has to come out.  So, "b-u-t-t, b-u-t-t, b-u-t-t" it is.  They boys are old enough now, I should probably tell them it's not really a bad word, but we are going to ride this train as long as we can.   Fischer turned five this month.  On his birthday, he informed me that he would no longer be my ba

 Why do they even make white hand towels?  Are you supposed to use them or are they actually just for looks?  I think I made a critical error putting my white hand towels out for use.  They were white for about twelve minutes.  Plus or minus twelve minutes.  Apparently, my family uses water and soap to loosen dirt and towels for cleaning dirt off.  Apparently.   We are a black hand towel family. Speaking of white things, people who wear white fascinate me. I am not one of those people.  It's a mystery to me how they even do it.  White pants?!  It's like the holy grail. I'm never going to be in the club.  Or white shoes...I used to purposefully run my new running shoes through the mud just to take the pressure off.  I can't handle it.  I like looking at pretty people in all their clean white though and wondering what it is they do all day to make that a reasonable clothing choice.  If you're out there, fill me in!  Fascinating people.     We are in a stage where we

 "Sawyer, are you excited for your first day of school?" "You betcha!" I already knew the answer, but I like hearing him say it.  I am wondering how long we can ride this high before the "schooldrums" set in.   The night before school started he set out his clothes.  A t-shirt with a bear "because it's classy," some new shorts, some blue and red socks "because they are the funniest ones I can find," and new running shoes which were "very fast," and it was essential to demonstrate their effectiveness several times. The morning of his first day, we were loading up to go, and he paused to look at me, "Mom, I'm so excited , but I'm a little bit nervous too.  But mostly I'm excited."  And with that, we were off.   We arrived at the church where the school meets a few minutes early, so we talked about helping his friends who were nervous to be brave and to be an encouragement to them and his new classmates.

 I really wanted to walk Sawyer into his classroom on his first day of school.  I imagined getting to watch him greet his teacher, helping him get his backpack situated, and tucking him into his seat before saying goodbye.  Then I imagined it again with his three small siblings hanging off me, and it wasn't nearly as sweet.  It spurred me to swallow my pride and ask a friend for help. We have the greatest neighbors where we live.  I know people who do not, so I feel extra fortunate.  It was a neighbor that I asked to watch our youngest three kids while I took Sawyer to school.  I wouldn't be gone long, and I knew Fischer could be a good helper.   The day before school started, I had a handful of projects I was trying to wrap up, plus I was hoping to get the house semi-clean.  The last time we asked this friend to come up, I was jetting off to the ER and the house was in shambles.  I wanted to make a half-way respectable impression.  Yes, we often live in a pile of filth and cha

 A week before Sawyer's first day of first grade, his school hosted a Back to School Night.  We thought it would be a great opportunity for Sawyer to see his classroom and meet his teachers.  We hoped  it would take away some of the nerves associated with trying something new, and that it would be his chance to make a positive first impression under the guidance of his very socially astute parents.   Upon arriving, he immediately loved his classroom teacher, as we predicted he would.  There were no major catastrophes (aside from his baby sisters trying to wreck all the decorations and screaming every thirty seconds).  He thought his PE teacher had an amazing gym and toys.  I tried to make a positive connection there since I also taught elementary PE, but fell very flat.  Fortunately, I don't believe the teacher connected me to Sawyer, and he will hopefully have a chance to make his own way in that class.   We rounded out the tour by meeting his music teacher.  After introducing

I am tired.  I have been in the middle of a serious power struggle with some of the humans that live in our house.  I have never met two more stubborn, vocal, irrational, angry, needy, hungry, daring, sneaky, opinionated people in my life, and they aren't even politicians.  Whoever said that girls are easier to raise than boys during the toddler years is a big fat liar.  I want my money back!  They are not  easier.  I tip my hat to all the parents who managed to raise them into adulthood with even a smidgen of sanity left to tell the tale.  I may not get there.  I. May. Not. Our girls are less than two-years-old, and they have already been engaged in more physical brawls than their brothers have in the last five years.  It's not the stuff of sissies either.  They hit, kick, pinch, claw, bite, and pull hair. It makes the MMA look like child's play. It's not all bad.  They have their moments of "twin magic" as my friend says.  They share.  They share the snacks