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