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

 Our kids have been on fire..fi-ya, this week.  They are killing me.  In a good way.   Sawyer has been on a sandwich kick.  He has this recipe that he is pretty proud of and wants to share it with the world.  He made his "famous" sandwich for Ross on Saturday and got many compliments and rave reviews.  This fed his confidence and his desire to feed more people.  He's thinking about a restaurant in the backyard.  On Monday, he made me the sandwich.   His recipe includes: bread, mayo, mustard, lettuce, pickles, cheese and black forest ham or turkey.  After giving him much applause for his masterpiece, he let me in on the one ingredient you can't replicate: magic.   At which point I realized, I should have had him wash his hands before starting.     After Sawyer's magical sandwich, the girls were doing their regular 'I'm not going to sleep' routine.  Normally, this would have tried my patience.  This time when I went in their room to put them back in bed,

     True confession: I have a thing for farmers.  The older the better.        I love  listening to farmers talk.  I love their farms and their stories about farming.  I like reading about them, watching them on TV, and listening to them on podcasts or in person.  There is something so intriguing to me about the family farm.        Also, I want to be them.  And own a cow.        I got one step closer to my cow dreams this past weekend.  A local farm where I go and occasionally work for fun (some people get their kicks at bars, and some people pull weeds, okay?!), said I could keep a milk cow on their property.  I almost flipped my lid.  Lucky for Ross, he planned on hunting when I got home, so he had an escape route.  I simmered down a degree by the time he got home.  Getting dinner on the table for four kids has a way of grounding a person.        Anyway, today the farmer's wife gave me sage advice that I didn't really want to hear.  But probably needed.  She said, "We a

 When you welcome a new baby into your family, especially when you already have older kids, it can almost feel more like (please don't take this the wrong way) adding a pet.  You have this new human who has needs and definitely affects your lifestyle, but he/she isn't adding thoughts or opinions yet to the daily family routine.  They count, but they don't really get a say in things.  I realize that we can’t stay in this phase forever, but I am not sure I am ready for what comes next.   As our girls move away from the early days of "mad and inconsolable" to "opinions with some words," I can safely say they have kept us on our toes from day one.  Now that we are on our way to the next developmental stage please, dear Lord, let it be an easy one.   Tonight, let's just be honest, we ae still fighting the bedtime blues.  I may have been a little too excited to put them to bed.  I may have started the whole routine a little too early.  That's on me. 

 I keep waiting for the naptime to become a reasonable affair with the little twinsesses.  At the rate they are going, we may graduate from napping before that day comes.  They are not delicate flowers.  I've said before that they make their brothers look like pushovers.   We routinely do the get back in your bed scenario with the girls.  My response time between hearing them get up and actually making it to their room to return them to bed is not always immediate.  Sometimes, I let them have their little dance parties just so I can get the boys started on schoolwork.  In the early days, they just tore their room apart.  They emptied containers of toys, blankets, wipes, diapers, the basic ransack routine.  When they discovered how to work the doorknobs, they began including all closet items in their destruction.  Then they figured out how to climb to the shelf in their closet.  There are no safe spaces to store things.   Because simply destroying their tidy room apparently wasn'

 Today was better.  I got both the eldest child and  his backpack into the car.  Before anyone starts patting me on the back, let me remind you that "pride cometh before the fall."  I am not a graceful "faller."  Six feet is a lot of body to get to the ground, and yes, that's my "basketball" height.  But where was I?   Oh, right, I got Sawyer to school basically on time with his backpack.  However.  However, upon getting out of the van, I noticed the boy's bedhead, toast on his face, the stained shirt I had him change out of was exchanged for another stained shirt, and his shorts had a hole in the booty.  Okay, two holes.   "Saaaawyeerrrrrr." "What?" "You look like a ragamuffin." "So? I'm never embarrassed."   And with that we went inside.   Mind you, this is the second  day in a row he wore shorts with a hole in the booty.  Apparently he has been saving his "good" shorts for at home use.  And I

 The morning started with diluted coffee.  I should have called it quits right there, turned around, gone back to bed, tried again in an hour.  I didn't.  I muddled on.  Terrible idea.   The to-do list ran long and I had to get Sawyer to school.  I didn't forget to load Sawyer in the van, that's the positive, I did forget to load his backpack that contained his schoolwork and lunch for the day.  Add a side trip to Albertsons to the list.  The big guy, who struggles when things go unexpectedly, did great after the initial shock wore off.  He made it through the day without incident. I continued to push through the murky waters.  I was delivering chickens we had butchered to some friends. (We are those  people.)  The drop off went fine, but upon walking  back to my van, my foot spontaneously became injured.  I'm not even kidding.  One second I was walking normally, the next step I was limping like an injured sasquatch.  Still am.   So this is what getting old feels like. 

 Can you "yell" in sign language?  A rabbit trail got me to this question, but now I want to know.  What does that look like?   My friend asked the other day if all moms yell at their kids at least on occasion.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm going to go with a hard "yes."  If you are that anomaly that has never yelled and your child is over two-years-old, please, come teach us your ways.     I never knew I was a "yeller" until I had a toddler.  It was a lot less of an issue when I just had one.  It's something I'm working on.  Everyday.  Especially because two two-year-olds in our house have a zero response rate to a civil tone.  Not that they give me many opportunities to correct them...unless they are awake.   In our house, you basically have  to yell to be heard. It's not the most relaxing environment. We took Laura Ingalls' "seen and not heard" and changed it to "heard even when not seen."   I'm hoping

       The boys spent a large portion of their free time today pulling the tabs off of a couple hundred sparkling water and beer cans.  Mostly water, for you judgmental folks.  It allowed me to have an entire phone conversation without interruption, so after running a quick cost/benefit analysis in my head, I let them proceed with the project.  After I got off the phone, they told me they were planning on making maracas (again) with the cans and the detached tabs.       Three things occurred to me after this conversation.  First, we probably drink way too much sparkling water.  Second, kids will eventually find something to do if you don't provide them with entertainment.  Third, if our boys are inspired to spend hours making maracas, we have probably failed them in the music education department.  I mean, maracas?!   That is not a cool instrument, unless you're in a mariachi band, and these boys are not.  Drums, cymbals, heck a tambourine has more clout.       Music is not my