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

 It's always risky to take a shower while the children are loose...unsupervised.  I walked out of the bathroom the other morning to be met by one three-year-old in her underwear wielding a hammer and a badminton racket while the other three-year-old was covered from fingertip to forehead in Smokey the Bear stamps.   I gave them the only logical response in that moment, "Out of my room, please."  And locked the door.   After a five minute pause, I reentered their world to learn that the tennis racket and hammer were for destroying monsters.  Naturally.  The stamps?  She just wanted them.  The big brothers?  They made their exit as soon as they heard me coming.   Kids are infinitely unpredictable.   The boys are treasure hunters as of late.  Fischer's prize: rocks.  He is confident he will discover gold, but in the meantime, pretty rocks are a close second.  He found some real gems the other day...well, not real  gems, just colorful rocks that he cleaned up.  He negotia

 For better or worse, I don't have a lot of pride.  I used to have some, but after the third and fourth child, what little I had vanished.  I'd like to be put together.  I would like my kids to be put together.  I have come to terms with the fact that, 99% of the time, that's not going to happen.  When we leave the house, I consider it a win if everybody has on an appropriate amount of clothing and two shoes that match.   The first time we visited the orthodontist in preparation for Sawyer's braces, I showed up with four kids in dirty play clothes and one child with mismatched shoes.  It just so happens that the orthodontist's wife is the mom of some of my former students, and she was working that day.  Luckily, I also hadn't brushed anyone's hair before we left the house, so we made quite an impression.  I've been trying to raise the bar ever since, but I seem to keep failing.  The next appointment we came straight from the barn and smelled like it, but

  Christmas time is such a fun season.  I love focusing on the birth of Jesus with the kids and recognizing the true reason for celebrating.  I also relish the magical part of the season that gives so much life to our kids' imaginations and innocents.  They are always precious, but I feel it even more so this time of year.   Even our oldest hasn't completely given up on Santa, although he has a lot more questions having been around classmates and friends who coolly deny the existence of Santa or Christmas magic.  We know it can't last forever, but I'm going to milk it for at least one more season.  He is still more or less on board.  I think he wants it to be real, so he doesn't dig too deep.  Consequently, he and his siblings were all excited for a trip to meet Santa and Mrs. Claus last weekend.  I was excited too.  I love their reactions, and last year Carter was too sick to go, so this was her first opportunity to meet Santa face to face.   The trip didn't di

 All of our kids are so different from one another.  Sometimes it takes me by surprise.  They've all been raised in a pretty similar environment, but each one has a very unique personality.   Sawyer had an early command on language.  Fischer just squeaked until he was almost three.   Fischer notices things.  He is very attuned to details.  Carter can't find her favorite sweater even when she's standing on it.   Carter had an early grasp on humor and knew she was being funny before most of our kids understood what a joke was.   Emerson is a nurturer and when she's on her own, she is probably the most responsible of all four kids.   They each have their own strengths and weaknesses, and it's interesting to see how those play out as they get older.  Recently, somebody asked me if we were going to put the girls in preschool.  My knee jerk response was, "no."  We didn't do preschool with the boys, but let them lead the way on what they were interested in le

 Some friends of ours recently added a new puppy to their family.  We met him the day after they brought him home, and I asked what they named him.  "I think we are going to call him Sam," my friend responded.  She said her daughter had always wanted a boy dog named Sam.  Hearing that reminded me of when I was a kid and wanted so badly for my name to be Samantha so I could go by Sam because it was such a good tomboy name, and that resonated with me.  As an adult, I now see the irony in wanting to change my name from Bobbi  to Sam so I could sound more like a tomboy.   Bob. I wonder if Sawyer will feel the same irony when he looks back on wanting to be named Beaver  because he cuts trees and stuff like a beaver, when his actual name literally means "one who saws."  We weren't as spot on with Fischer who wanted the name "Red-hot Fire King of Wheelies."  That one was a bit of a mouthful and luckily, didn't stick around for long.  He does like to fish

 When Ross is away, I wouldn't say things get totally lax, but maybe a little looser than they would if I had back-up.  That's why the kids have spent the last two days throwing dirt clods at each other as a form of entertainment.  I only stop it when they start picking up rocks, logs, or there are actual tears.  I've only had to intervene once, so I feel like it's a pretty good way for them to work some things out.  I am going to have to wash sheets and children tomorrow, however, so there is a downside.   I kind of love this season.  So do the boys.  They always look forward to the change in seasons - that is from fire season to burn season, and they will likely smell like wood smoke for the next six months.  With Ross gone, I've put them both in charge of the fire in the woodstove.  It's obvious Fischer takes after his dad.  The house was so hot the first day he got the fire going, I had to open all the windows.  We let the house cool off for two days before

 We were on our way home from a birthday party not long ago, and Fischer began complaining from the backseat that one of the kids had tripped him and laughed about it.   Ross looked at him in the rearview mirror and responded, "Life's hard, Buddy.  You're going to have to toughen up."  To which his brother responded, "Yeah.  You have no idea.  Just wait until you're eight."  At that, they both sat back in their booster seats and contemplated their life situation for the remainder of the drive home.    Evidently, life is smooth sailing in those early single digits, but once you reach the ripe old age of, "I can mostly tie my own shoes and reach the kitchen faucet," it's all hard knocks and rough living.   I know this must be true because Sawyer also told his aunt the other day, "It's time to get on it and get myself a car.  I'm going to get a Cord Tacoma."  I think what he wanted to say, but didn't have the words  was,

Today was the boy's last day of summer vacation, and they sent it out in style.  I hate to see it end probably as badly as they do...more actually.  Fischer is so excited for his first day of school he has been wishing these final days away.  Still, they made the most of every day this summer and today was no exception.   They went mountain biking with their dad, shot BB guns and air soft pistols, and watched their current favorite movie.  They each made a snack for school with me.  They chopped wood until the head fell off of Fischer's hatchet - then they turned it into a wedge and started creating "lumber" out of their trees.  They climbed trees.  They found the most enormous disgusting grubs I have ever seen in real life.  They also found an enormous hornets nest hanging in a tree (no injuries occurred).  They wrote thank you letters and did chores.  They played cards, harassed their sisters, ate a million snacks, showered, read, and fell asleep early and immediate

 Bedtime with toddlers is something like a cross between a WWE wrestling match and a psychological chest game.  Parent: suggests it's time for bed. Toddler: dives under the nearest furniture.   Your move. Parent: catches a leg and pulls toddler back to starting position. Toddler: cries. Parent: walks crying child to the bathroom and readies toothbrush. Toddler: clinches mouth shut.   Parent: forces child's lips apart and scrubs front teeth until child cries out and grants access to the molars. Toddler: Refuses to pee in the toilet.   Parent: suggests child needs to wear a diaper tonight. Toddler: pees, runs naked back into the living room. Parent: chases child back to the bedroom. Toddler: Hides under the bed. Parent: chooses the wrong pajamas several times before choosing the right pajamas and coaxes child from under the bed. Wresting match ensues as pajamas are donned.   Parent: "Pick a book." Toddler: searches for several minutes and brings back three. Parent: &quo

 Summer is cruel.  All I want, is to be outside all day and for it to never end.  I don't feel like I'm asking too much.  Life is just a little sweeter when Ross isn't working away from home and the kids aren't in school.  It's not over yet, and we are still living the good life, but our days are numbered.  I went grocery shopping the other day and saw Halloween decorations.  The writing is on the wall.   We have been making the most of every day.  My summer school work aspirations have hardly been achieved, but the kids have been learning and experiencing so much.  For example, they have all taken their swimming skills to the next level, and we have learned that Carter is especially fond of the water - so add that to the list of things we have to worry about with her.   Carter has also shown us that she is very proficient at finding keys to the vehicles, and she knows exactly where they should go once in the vehicle.  I thought we weren't going to worry about h

After the never ending winter, it became summer, then finally settled into spring.  We are currently making up for lost time and spending all the daylight hours outside.  I should probably come in and clean the house at some point, but I think I'll wait until summer rolls back around and it's too hot to be outside.   The kids have recently reached some new mile stones.  The boys are becoming readers and are learning all kinds of new words they aren't allowed to say...they are also becoming better workers and helpers than ever.  We seem more or less past "survival mode" with the twins and can finally start soaking in all the fun parts of the toddler stage.   It's not all smooth sailing though.  It's still dangerous to take a bathroom break in the middle of the day.  Carter decided to help herself to the maple syrup when I did that this week.  A solid 6oz flooded her plate, found it's way down the table, a dining room chair and onto the floor.  I had to

The girls licked raw bacon off their hands today.  They were helping me cook, and after placing strips of bacon in the pan, they both immediately began licking their fingers.  Nobody is throwing up yet...except for me.  That was gross.  Yesterday, I saved Carter from shoving a metal paintbrush tip into an electrical outlet.   Two days ago they redecorated their room...aka, dumped everything they owned onto the floor.   I guess we aren't completely out of the woods with those two after all.   Focus on the positive.   Baseball.  The kids all love baseball.  The boys love playing it and the girls love watching, or at least they love going and having access to the snack bag.  That may also be what motivates they boys, come to think of it.  Team snacks are insane.   When I was growing up playing soccer, we ran for 45 min, took a 5min break to suck down a couple of orange slices, then ran around for another 45min.  We worked  for those 5 Calories.  This baseball season a different parent

 Sawyer wore out his first BB gun.  The tip literally blew off the thing.  He tried to replace it with various other pellet guns, but nothing quite stood up to the abuse like his trusty Red Ryder.  After months of saving and decision making, he finally made the leap to buy a replacement.  To say he is in heaven, is an understatement.  He couldn't fall asleep last night.  He hasn't stopped talking about the quality of the gun.  His exuberance is palpable.   "Mom!" he exclaimed last night after shooting his first 100+ rounds. "I'm so glad I got this gun, and just in time for lizard season!"  He and his brother went through 500 more BBs today, and let me tell you, lizard season  has been quite a success!  The chickens couldn't be happier.  Nothing goes to waste. Sawyer's excitement for lizards can only be matched by Emerson's love of "wormies."  And "wormie" season is also upon us.  She spends extensive time digging up the ga

 I decided today was the day I was taking back my house!  Hold your applause.   I'll tell you right now what that was: a pipe dream.  Show me the woman who got her house cleaned while her children were in it, and I'll show you a liar.  Unless she first duct taped them to their chairs.  Then maybe.   Our girls have been on a bit of a tear.  They dumped every toy receptacle and half the game closet in their room over the course of this weekend.  I'm not sure why.  I'm not sure there was a "why."  They accomplished half of their mayhem during bedtime and the other half while I ignored them and took a minute outside, so that's on me.   The game and craft closet has been spilling into the hall for close to a week now anyway.  It needed some attention.  The trail from the closet to the girl's room made it unavoidable.  The darlings also managed to spill craft supplies from the closet to the garage door.  They are on opposite sides of the house, so that was

 "Good morning, Carter!  I've been missing you this morning!"  I told my late riser as I scooped her up for a good morning hug.  I turned to her sister, who had been up with the sun, "Were you missing her too, Emerson?" "Not much."  Well, you can't fault her honesty.   Honesty is like a three-year-old's super power.   "Mama, I have a big belly?" Carter asked me tonight.   "You do have a big belly." "You have a big belly too." Thanks, kid.  The difference is, a) I didn't ask, and b) toddler big bellies are cute. "You need to eat your dinner," I countered.   She looked at her plate then looked at me.  "It's not my favorite."   I mean, at least she's polite.  The boys are also learning the good and the ugly of truth telling toddlers.  They can't get away with anything.  It's like I have my own personal set of spies.  I'm milking this season for all it's worth.   Hmmmmm

I had to take a leave of absence from my computer because it was making me mad.  I think we have reached an understanding.  At least temporarily.  So here we are.   We have had a lot of "life" happen in the last month or so, but it's hard to nail it all down in a blog post.  Mostly, I think it's growing pains.  Our boys are growing out of the little boy stage and are pushing to find that next set of boundaries.  The girls are no longer babies.  They are owning the toddler stage entirely now.  It's weird.  I'm still deciding if I like it or not.   Because I still think of them as babies, I am beginning to realize we might be giving the girls too much freedom to be sassy.  In all too obvious ways, it's starting to bite back.   Recently, they have been keeping each other awake at bedtime telling each other off.   "Carter, you rude!" "No!  I not rude, you so rude!" No, I not!  You so rude!" And back and forth they go, louder and louder

 We met a group of friends for a playdate/mom date today, but before we left the house Fischer urgently asked me to send one of the mom's a text.  So I did: C an you ask your son to bring his handcuffs today?   After all, how can you play cops and robbers without handcuffs?  At the playdate, we concluded that this is the only phase in their lives where that request isn't weird.   The kids played hard and loud for two hours.  It was exactly what the doctor ordered after seemingly endless days of snow and rain.  While the kids played, the ladies and I went ahead and solved all the world’s problems.  You're welcome for that.  Then we gathered up our various offspring and headed back to reality.     Sawyer and Fischer sped through their school work.  The outdoors were calling.  They then had to re-do their school work because speeding doesn't actually get it done faster if you don't do it right.  Life lessons are hard.   When their teacher (that's me) finally gave t

I posted this picture on Instagram today because I thought it was pretty.   It rained hard all day long today so the boys and I needed an extra project to do indoors.  Naturally, we made marshmallows.  Because, why not?  I made a hot chocolate mix courtesy of Martha Stewart and put it all together for an afternoon snack.  It sounds dreamy.  Even to me.   The reality is, in order to take this picture, I had to shove a tower of dirty lunch dishes into the sink, and do a substantial crop job to avoid showing my kitchen floor which was covered in toys and kinetic sand.  I was also ignoring my kids who kept calling my name.  Furthermore, that mug in the top corner...it got dumped in the sink because the kid who was supposed to receive it threw an enormous fit over his school work.  No work = no treats.   All this to say, don't believe everything you see. Also, it turns out, it's never too wet to go outside.  

 I think we may have accidently opened the wardrobe and landed in eternal winter.  I don't remember another winter when we have had as many snowy days.  When a window of dry weather presents itself, we are all busting a move to spend the time outside.  It's gotten a little stuffy and grouchy indoors.   Today, mercifully, was a day to get some energy burned off outside. I went straight for the garden.  The girls were napping, and the boys found themselves on our gravel pile.  They spent some time throwing rocks and chatting about who knows what.  Eventually, the rocks became bombs and imaginary bad guys hid behind trees and in the grass below them.  I heard an explosion, followed by "Got him!"  Another explosion ripped through the air.  Fighter jets flew overhead.  More gun fire was exchanged and another bomb exploded just out of range!  "They're coming," Fischer yelled. "I'll get them!" Sawyer responded throwing a grenade.   "Yes!&quo

 "I not want dinner," Carter told me tonight.  There were about six plain spaghetti noodles on her plate, a tablespoon of meat and mushrooms on the side and three tiny cubed beets.   She drank her milk.   "I not want dinner, I full," she said again. To which I replied, "You're full?  Then you probably don't have room for any dessert, like ice cream." "I have room here.  And here." She told me as she lifted each arm and pointed just below her armpits.   She is pretty convincing, but this isn't my first rodeo, so I told her she'd have to do better than that.  She ate a noodle.  Gagged on a beet.  Spit out a piece of meat her brother tried to convince her to eat.  She is stubborn.  So am I.  She didn't get the ice cream.   I think her brother's were more beat up about it than she was.  Fischer knows  what it's like to sit and watch everyone else eat dessert.  He was desperate to get her to eat.     The boys think we are h

 We all need reminders from time to time.  In the process of homeschooling two kids part time, while trying to keep four kids out of the ER full time, it's good to be reminded of why we did this to ourselves...I mean, why we chose this lifestyle for our family.  Today, was a day of good reminders.   The boys had the larger portion of their school work done by 8:30 this morning.  We did some quick clean up around the house, and they headed outside while I baked a quick batch of scones.  Friends arrived at 9:45.  This is a group of kids we have been having playdates with since Sawyer was three.  Playdates are fewer and farther between now, but we are still able to make them happen in the middle of a weekday morning when schedules align.  It's a blessing. The kids immediately began building shelters and outdoor "latrines" (Sawyer's word, not mine).  They tracked animals and looked for a place to build a fire if they should be trapped in a snowstorm.  Camping gear was

I've been told a lot lately by Sawyer that I just don't get "second grade humor."  He is correct.  He isn't all that funny.  At least not when he's trying to be.  Bodily functions and terrible jokes don't really tickle my sense of humor.   When neither Ross nor I laughed at his joke the other day, he said, "It's not funny.  I get it," and stalked out of the room.  Now that  was funny.  His jokes really are terrible though, and most of the time they don't make sense.  It's fine.  What he lacks in comedy he more than makes up for in confidence.   "I can cut your hair for you, Dad." "No." "Just listen, I know how to do it." "No." "You just use a comb and scissors.  That's how Viola did it in Hank the Cow Dog. " "Just because you read it in a book, doesn't mean you know how to do it.  And Hank the Cow Dog ?! No. Not a chance.  Not ever." "You just need to trust me.&q

 I read in the news this weekend that Norovirus was wreaking havoc across the country.  It gave me a name for the junk that just ran its course through our house.  Norovirus is an extremely contagious stomach bug that is relatively short duration, but when you have a family of six, short duration is a week of sleepless nights and discomfort.  It started on a Monday with our youngest, and then nothing happened Tuesday so we thought we had dodged a bullet.  Wednesday afternoon we were hit with round two.   Ross came home from work to find our oldest over the toilet.  "What are you doing in there, Buddy?" "Huuuughghhhrstsch!" "Calling Sasquatch, huh?" "Hoorruughstch!" "How's it working?  Seen him yet?" "Rahuuuheh." Ross laughed.  "Sorry, Buddy.  It's only funny because I know I'm next." The next night he was.   It's no fun being sick, but we did manage a movie marathon to the point that the kids were act

 Carter deemed her nap unnecessary today.  Despite my best efforts to convince her otherwise, she would not stay in bed.  She also decided Emerson had slept long enough, and woke her up about halfway through the normal nap window.  Lord love her.   It's fine.  I was only trying to take a couple dozen quizzes, required by the state of Oregon, to prove I'm neither a moron nor the dregs of society, and am in fact fit to substitute in public schools.  (I passed, if you wondered.)  She didn't care if I was doing something valuable with my minute to myself - the boys were squirrel hunting - she just wanted to be up.  I suppose that's fair.  It was a beautiful day today.  I gave her a little scolding, during which Emerson took the opportunity to steal a doughnut off the counter.  Never a dull moment.   I let Carter go in order to interrogate Emerson.  Surprisingly, another doughnut went missing at this time.  After a thorough questioning, they both claimed they were eating bag

 I like to describe our house as very "lived in."  It sounds better than "dirty."  It is dirty.  And messy.  I clean all day long, but you'd never know.  My friend recently told me she hires a house cleaner.  It sounds dreamy, but it wouldn't work for us.  The cleaner would never be able to leave.  She'd never be done.  It's fine.  It's a phase.  Probably.   We were supposed to have guests for dinner the other week.  I know - it's a bold move inviting people over while we are in this stage of life.  Nonetheless, we did.  I was trying to get ahead of the mess while the kids were in bed and cleaned my floors the night before the dinner party.  The day of the dinner, everybody was sick so we had to postpone.   I decided I wasn't going to let a clean floor go to waste.  I was going to enjoy it for at least a weekend.  The challenge, I told myself, was simply to sweep things up after every meal.  In my head, this seemed reasonable.  The realit

 I got into a bit of a battle with our eldest today.  He was being a little too big for his britches, and I was trying to show him that he still had some lessons to learn.  The tables turned on me, and I discovered that I'm going to have to work a little harder if I'm going to stay in the game.  Dang these smart kids.     It started innocently enough, as things typically do.  The boys and I decided to have a tea party and invited my mom and aunt to join us.  "Tea" isn't exactly on their radar for super cool boy things to do, but it was an excuse to practice some cooking skills and some social skills and some manner skills.  I gave them each the responsibility of picking out a snack to make for the party.  Fischer chose fudge.  Spoiler alert: it didn't turn out.  Sawyer chose chocolate bark with crushed candy cane on one batch and coconut flakes on another.   The morning of the tea party, Sawyer let me know he was going to need my stove for a lot of the day and

  How to Train a Toddler By  Bobbi St. Clair Step 1: Wear gloves. Step 2: You can't. I thought I might write my own manuscript on childrearing since I've had a few tries at it now, but it turns out nobody wanted to publish my work.  Something about word limits and hope .  Their reasoning seemed a little closed minded to me.   We are sleep training our toddlers...again.  I thought we were done.   Turns out, they have their own ideas on the subject.  We had a good run... They don't stay in bed during naps, and I don't remember the last time they didn't yell for me in the middle of the night.  At night, unless they shout "fire!" or "I pooped!" we pretty muchly aren't getting up to check on them.  It seems like they are yelling less...I think.  So hopefully that means we are getting somewhere.   We are also navigating food issues.  They have, in the last week or so, quit eating at meal times.  But they want all the snacks.  Now we are gearing up

Let me tell you a little story about what happens when you gloat or become prideful about a thing.  You get twins.  (I love them.)  They have made me reevaluate everything about my early parenting years.  I used to think I had some skills.  It turns out we just had dumb luck.   I was the newbie mom looking down at other parents with older kids who didn't sleep through the night.  They obviously didn't sleep train.   I looked down my nose at their struggle instead of being compassionate.  Our boys were early risers, but they slept  at night.  Enter the twins.  I can count on my hands the number of times we have slept through the night in the last three years.   Question: How do you teach a three year old to pull up her own covers?!   There was also potty training.  Obviously those parents are just pushing it on a kid who isn't ready.; o r t hey must not be consistent.  Our boys were ridiculously easy to potty train, and it was definitely our superior parenting skills.   Then

  We aren't raising any natural athletes around here, but we are working on some basic skills.  I grew up participating in and loving sports and so did Ross.  Plus, the whole PE teacher thing.  Needless to say, we definitely see the value in organized sports.  But I'm a lazy mom.  I don't want to do the taxi cab driver thing.  At least not yet.  Ross, bless his heart, is a little more motivated.   Ross has been encouraging the boys in wrestling for four seasons.  It's been a little rough.  The boys don't exactly have what you would call a "competitive nature."  Previously, when we have entered them in tournaments they proceeded to executed moves such as "possum," "pick your nose and yawn," and the "smile and wave."  This year, we weren't what you'd call "competitive" but there was definitely some improvement.  They showed some basic skills and effort.   Currently, the boys are both playing some intro level YM

  A lady stopped me as I chased our girls into church last Sunday.  And I mean chased.  I was literally running down the crazy one as she dodged elderly patrons who were trying to exit the building.  But before I could catch hold of her collar, an older woman stopped me.  "Are they twins?" She asked.  They were in matching dresses on this occasion.     "Yes, they are," I replied trying to keep my eyes on the escapee.   "What a wonderful blessing.  You are just so lucky." She was very genuine and very sweet.  I should probably mention here that I am not a saint.  Working on it, not there yet.  Luckily, my first response got lost in the noise of the foyer, and on my second attempt, I simply agreed with her.  "Yes, I am blessed."   I am.  I really am.  But as another twin parent once said about their twins, "They are a blessing I wouldn't wish on anyone."  It's the truth.  I am so, so happy we have them, but wow.  I met another tw

 Some days four kids seems like a bit much.  When four feels more like eight or twelve, I'm tempted to get a machine like the DMV, "Take a number, kid!"  On those days I'm left wondering what did we do?!   I don't even know. God gave us what we prayed for when we asked for boys.  They do all the stinking, loud, weird boy things.  I'm not surprised by any of it, but sometimes it makes me tired.  And cranky.  And my ears hurt.  And then I feel really old.   Then God gave us girls.  They make me feel even older and tireder.  But they are ridiculously cute and funny...when they aren't crying.  I think the girls were a gift for our boys as much as they were for us.  Those two stinky, dirty, fighting, wrestling, ornery, best enemies, turn into protective, gentle (mostly), sweet, companions and playmates when the girls are around.  The girls love  their big brothers.  They copy everything the boys do and say, and will go to them for loves and comfort when Mom or

  School is back in full swing and I'm grateful to be in a normal routine again.  It isn't necessarily easier, but I like a to have a schedule and I think the kids (whether they realize it or not) do too.  Sawyer really does enjoy his days at school.  He pretends like he doesn't want to go, but he comes home all smiles and a ball of excited energy every single time.   The first week back, as I waited in the carline, the director came up to my window.  I rolled it down with some trepidation.  Transitions are really challenging for Sawyer and we had a multitude that week with Ross going back to work, school starting for Sawyer, and company in and out.  I was concerned about how he may have held up at school.  Anyway, I rolled down my window and held my breath as she started to speak, "Your son..." "Yes...???" "Cracks me up so much." Exhale. She continued, "He was trying to tell me something about a bake sale fundraiser he wants to do, but I