When a tired, no-good-with-a-camera-Momma takes a picture

I tried REALLY hard to get a nice picture of all seven kids in their new pajamas Grandma W. sent. 

I'd get the oldest four to stand still and look at the camera, and the twins and Peach would run off.

Then I'd get Peach to come back, but she'd come right up to me instead of in front of the Christmas tree where I wanted her.

I convinced Pookie to hold her-- but then I had to rein in the twins. 

Hammy and Squdge wanted to be sure I caught their smiles on camera.  Yup, thanks!  I caught the runny nose too.

"Mommy, show Grandma W. my monkeys!"



So Grandma W., this is the best I got.  Please excuse the Sharpie on the walls.  I have budding artists.

(and I don't know what's going on with the shadow in the corner of the camera)

Enjoying our tree and ornaments

I bit the bullet and bought a pre-lit Christmas tree (instead of waiting for the after-Christmas sales). The cost wasn't so bad and it didn't look like the pinecone infested number from the Base Exchange. 

There is something SO magical about a big Christmas tree when you're little.  and not little.

I love how this picture blurs the lights-- like my memories of Christmas trees.

So far we've had about four casualties. 

I told them when we put the cinnamon applesauce ornaments on the tree,

"They're not cookies.  They're yucky.  Don't eat."

I actually didn't even mention the word "cookie" until I heard one of the twins say it.  Even with reminders, it continues to happen.  My Tater has tenacity.  Every other day he tries another.  I'm not as concerned about the ornament as I am for my carpet when he spits it out.  Cinnamon stains.

You can see our Charlie Brown tree in the corner.

Peach likes to circle the tree trying every snowflake and then tossing them on the floor.  Snowflakes are her favorite-- but she keeps an open mind.  She's licked cinnamon applesauce ornaments, shiny red bulbs, reindeer, etc. 

And now without further ado, for you that have kids that don't eat non-food things or if it's just you and you want an easy-peasy Christmas craft/ornament, here's the how-to.

Make your own (non-toxic) Cinnamon Applesauce ornaments

• Combine equal portions of cinnamon and applesauce.  
• Mix together well with your hands.  Add more cinnamon until it's a rollable consistency-- not so sticky. 
• Roll out 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick.   
• Cut out with cookie cutters shaped like gingerbread men, star, Christmas tree, wreath, etc. 
• Use a straw to make a hole near the top.  That's where you'll string ribbon or yarn to hang it on your tree.   We made two holes for ones to be strung on a garland.

• Let dry overnight if you're somewhere with very low humidity like Utah or North Dakota (in the winter anyway).  Or put it in your oven on a low temp like 190 degrees checking on it for a few hours or so. 

Sometimes I like to make several trays worth and run my dehydrator.  The white noise helps little ones fall asleep at naptime or nighttime and a homey Christmastime smell permeates my home.  These are also a fun addition to a gift bag, neighbor holiday gifts, or your visiting teaching sisters.

A change of heart

Look what I found in the living room corner.  This little set up reminded me of the joy in childrens' hearts this time of year and brought me back to my youth.

I remember laying under the Christmas tree and squinting up at the lights to make the colors blur together. 

I recall looking at my reflection in the ornaments and imagining living in the shiny red or green world. 

I've been pretty bummed this year because we don't have enough lights for our 7-foot Christmas tree.  And to add enough strings of lights to our tree adds up pretty fast.  I can't bring myself to pay $129 for a skinny 7-foot prelit tree with pine cones on it.  So I'm waiting until the after-Christmas sales to get a new one.

We have this little tree and half the lights on it don't work.  But they're still on it because half of each of the strings DO work.  It's gross.  Don't look close. 

But no matter how negative I feel about my sad harrassed little tree, my kids love it.  And they want to turn the lights on all day long.  They want to handle the ornaments and redecorate it.  They want to lay under it and daydream.  They want to be kids enjoying Christmastime.  So I'm letting them.  I have had a change of heart.

Why haven't you updated your blog?

I have a curious Tater who keeps me on my toes sometimes more than his buddy Squdge.

Nikki:  Buddy, why are you shredding the garbage bag?

Tater:  I uh no. 

translation:  I don't know.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Tater is a "go get 'em" little guy.  Here he takes a break from harrassing the bookshelf to snack on the couch with lunchmeat.

We took a break from our regularly scheduled calm *snort* to go trick o' treating.

Left to right we have:  Two Daddies (these mini-flight suits are actually closer to the pilot's ones than missileers), Jack o' Lanterns wearing each other's costume - oops (Tater is bigger than Squdge), a fairy in the middle and Superman holding a butterfly who's escaping her costume.  Catch all that?

Other than Gabbers friend party, this brings you through October.  mostly.

Next time you go to the zoo

and you happen upon a Momma with a Baby Girl in a sling, twin toddlers in a double stroller, and four pint-size people following her around it is not okay to tell her how impressed you are with how well-behaved they are. 

This will guarantee in a matter of 90 seconds their rapid-decline into fighting children with horribly bad in-a-public-place-manners.  Gremlins and angry eyebrows will emerge. 

More than the Spirit

Dear Journal,

Today we had an amazing Relief Society lesson.  I felt the whisperings of the spirit bear testimony of the truthfulness.

Baby Girl slept peacefully in the sling while I played the opening hymn on the piano.   I have just been called as the Relief Society pianist-- a calling that I love.  I don't play the piano much at home these days.  Life's a little busy.  I might go a whole week and sit down only once at home to play.  So to be guaranteed that I will be playing the piano every Sunday after Sacrament meeting and Gospel Doctrine, well, it puts a little extra spring in my step.  Playing His holy hymns only brings me closer to Him.  And that's a great place to be.

I wanted to stay for the entire Relief Society meeting and not leave to feed or change Baby Girl.  But she's almost three months old.

Sometime between two and three months old with each of my seven children, they um . . . how do I put this delicately? . . . forget how to poop.

Being exclusively bre*stfed, they have soft stools and usually poop two to three times a day (some were more often).

Well, starting with Pookie I called the doctor very concerned when it had been three days with no sign.  The doctor said, "Oh, that's perfectly normal.  Some babies only have a BM once a week."

"But not Pookie," I responded.  "He goes at least three times a day... until now."

"Yes, but babies this age start to realize they have to push to make it happen.  They also must learn to relax at the same time.  This is the result.  A baby going three times a day suddenly might go to once every couple of days."    I'm paraphrasing this.  It was nine years ago.

So about this age they all have done this and then there's an explosion.

Today the pressure was building during Relief Society.  Like I mentioned above, it was an amazing lesson.  I didn't want to miss a bit of it.

When Baby Girl started fussing and squirming, I got up and stood in the back of the room with her over my arm to help her feel comfortable.  The gas started.  Other than the person giving the lesson, the whole room was silent.  There was no question where those loud noises were coming from.

Miss me? Here's my day in a nutshell.

Danny took the babies to the Urgent Care Clinic.  It's probably not super-urgent, but the base never, and I mean NEVER, has available appointments with the Pediatrician. 

Tater started a fever Friday afternoon.  It was only 103.5° F.  By the next evening Squdge had a fever of 104.5° F.  With two babies with crazy fevers, we drained our stash of children's Tylenol and are on our last of the Motrin. 

So Danny took the babies because I feel like a day-old puke.  I've been dizzy for a few days.  I suspect it's the congestion that I've had for about a month now. 

Tater has a rattle in his chest to accompany his fever of brain-singeing degrees. 

It appears that Squdge has ruptured an eardrum.  I don't know for sure.  It just looks all drained out and bloody and crusted over.

Danny has been awesome getting up with them while I snooze right through the night (not counting multiple bathroom visits, of course).  But since Danny was taking them to the clinic, and not me, and since he is more sleep-deprived than normal, I was concerned he might, um, mix them up.  So I marked them.  There's a T on Tater's hand and an S on Squdge's hand.  Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do. 

We got the washer repaired today.  again.  It's been possessed.  It likes to fill up on its own-- and even occasionally leak on the floor. 

When the man came out two weeks ago to assess it, he told me he'd have to order some parts and return at a later date to fix it.  When sheduling the return visit he said, "Do you mind if we return on a Saturday?  That way you won't have the day-care kids.  Right?"  HAHAHAHA.

I forgot how much three year olds talk.  I swear my Hammy, who's not so much a Gremlin anymore, has diarrhea of the mouth.  He needs a muzzle.  His batteries never run out.

Schooling is going better.  Pookie and Gabbers aren't randomly yelling out answers to Bun's lessons anymore.  But now I find Hammy peeking over their shoulders reading stuff out loud-- as well as begging for school for himself.  Sometimes it's when I'm trying to quiz Bun and Hammy is standing there going, "Mommy, mommy, MOMMY, why it say 'apple?'  Why it say 'GO GO GO?'  Why I can't have school?  I'm big.  Mommy, Mommy!! MY TURRRRRNNN!  Oh man."  The "Oh man" thing.  He got that from Danny.  And it cracks me up. 

Pass the bon-bons please

I'm not sure if I've blogged this before (and I don't really care to look through 700 posts to find out), but a friend of mine's father is known around here for saying, "The magic number of kids (referring to easiness level) is one less than what you have."

Tonight is Pack meeting.  Danny is the Cubmaster and Pookie, being a cubscout, went with him.  And Hammy, being the mini-Pookie-in-training/Daddy-cling-on, went along too.

Can I just say, life is so easy with just four and a half kids?  Especially with my two, um... "spirited" ones being away for a few hours, life is so smooth and easy. 

I've vacuumed out the van (realizing that we eat way too many French fries and Cheerios), washed carseats and their cloth covers, rearranged seating in the van, washed laundry, and caught up on blogs in my reader. 

Now I sit, twiddling my thumbs, waiting for comments.  Or I guess I could pack the clothes for the trip . . .

If you needed 510 diapers a month...

 would you rather pay for disposables or wash that many cloth diapers?

And let's pretend, just for fun, that that 510 diapers might go down to 360 diapers for a few months (if your Hammy potty-trains) before going up to a probable 720 diapers a month (newborns poop a lot you know).

And so, now that I'm done rambling on such a random probably-doesn't-apply-to-TOO-many-people point, I'll switch the laundry while you comment and vote on my poll on my left sidebar.  Or eat hot dogs and watch fireworks.  You pick. 

Happy Independence Day!






P.S.  I also have a poll on the right sidebar guessing if it's a boy or girl.

What happens in two weeks with no phone and no internet

We have been in our new home for two weeks.  At first it was very nice having no phone or internet.  I entertained illusions of prairie life thinking about Laura Ingalls and Ma and Pa and how they got along just fine without blogspot.
Since we last spoke:

I emptied boxes,

purged toys,

organized an AWESOME kid closet right off the laundry room,

the gremlin turned 3 years old,

the twins turned 9 months old,

the twins learned to pull up to stand,

and they learned how to get into e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.

Pookie found out he did NOT know how to get home from school to our new home.

The school office found out how I felt about them NOT passing on the message to my child to wait for their ride.

Bun learned to slide down the fireman pole at the playground.

Bun decided after watching the many MANY trucks driving up and down our street, that he definitely wants to be a builder when he grows up.

Gabbers tie-dyed her first shirt at Girl Scouts. 

My baby sister had her fifth child!

My wonderful friend Connie had another sweet baby girl on the very same day.

We have had dozens of swallows trying to build nests on our front and back porch.

We have a teeny-tiny backyard. 

We have a nice new playground very close to our home.  I can see it from my kitchen window.

I'm all done with morning sickness.  :)

I have 300 and something unread posts in my reader.  I have missed you all very much.

Now I better go because I think my gremlin might get us kicked out of the library.

Pookie's Check List

Pookie's favorite thing about second grade is that he learned to write in cursive.  As you can see by his list, we actually do call Hammy by "Hammy" and Bun by "Bun" a good majority of the time.

Frugal Fridays with the Kiddie Hobgoblin Theater

As you know, we have six kids.  We cannot afford to hire a babysitter whenever we have the desire to watch a movie together.  It would be far cheaper to buy the actual movie than to hire a sitter. 

And having six kids eight and under, not even the oldest is old enough to be left home alone; so we don't have a built-in sitter yet either.

Enter the Kiddie Hobgoblin Theater.

At least bi-monthly (ahem, weekly nowadays), Danny will rent a children's movie from the Shoppette or the Red Box thing, or borrow from the library. 

We usually bribe the children earlier in the day to nap with promises of the Kiddie Hobgoblin Theater.  We figure, if they're going to be staying up late, a nap wouldn't hurt.

The Kiddie Hobgoblin Theater is just a fun way for them to get extra excited about watching a kid movie knowing that we aren't watching it with them.  It's just for kiddie hobgoblins like themselves.  And of course it's a completely safe, parent-approved movie that is 99% of the time rated G.

We line the four oldest kids up on the couch each with their favorite blanket, a cereal bowl full of popcorn and occasionally a handful of animal crackers or a couple candies that they purchased at the Kiddie Hobgoblin Theater (the dining table) with hugs as currency.

We toss a couple babies in the playpen with a handful of soft toys.

Then Danny and I plug our headphones into the laptop and sit on the other couch and watch something free like the latest episode of Lost, or a new release we've been waiting for from the Shoppette or Red Box thing.

Kid movie:  $.99
non-kid movie:  $.99 or free
bag of microwave popcorn:  $.50 (unless we're out and then we use the air popper which is MUCH cheaper)
bag of animal crackers or candy $1.50

Total with the Kiddie Hobgoblin Theater:  $3.98

Going rate for babysitting on the central west coast:  $2.50 a kid per hour

$2.50 a kid per hour x a half dozen hobgoblins x treats for the sitter x movie in a theater x gas money =

Total to go out on a date: 

$28,456.73






This post is linked to Frugal Fridays and Thrifty Thursdays, and Thrifty Thursdays in Bloggeritaville.

If you take a nap, I will give you TWO Otter Pops.

Today is the perfect day for the Otter Pop bribe to work.  It even worked on my 8 year old Pookie here.

 

This little girl has a fever of 102 and said, "I'm going to nap because I'm sick."

This guy?  MAJOR sweet tooth.  Like his Mama.  I hardly got the offer out of my mouth when his head hit the pillow.

This one here is Hammy.  You can't tell?  It's because he tunnels to go to sleep.  And now as I type this I realize that I didn't remove the pillow from his head after taking the pic.  Be right back. 

These two?  No Otter Pops for them.

I do not believe in giving my babies refined sugar.  If you do believe in giving your babies refined sugar, that's completely up to you.  And if you do it in front of me, I will be silently judging you.  

The only refined sugar they get is in their Tylenol.  They're sick too. 

The reason they're naked (now it's your turn to judge me) is because we have had bad luck with bottles today.  I think the leprechauns loosened the rings right before feeding time. Poor Squdge there (on the right) has had two and a half baths today.  The half was in the kitchen sink.

Random?  I think not.  At 82 degrees I feel the need to eat Luigi's Real Italian Ice in lemon flavor.  YUM.  And I wanted to show a random pic of my house (a small part of it) so you could relate to me better.  Feeling related?  Okay. 

Let us dissect the picture-- because if you're like me, you click on the picture and take in all the details. 

Shall we? 

First of all, let's look inside the window. 

The spoon in the empty cup signifies that my sink is full of dirty dishes because the dishwasher is full of clean dishes.  The cup hasn't been rinsed out yet to go in the recycling.  The cup is empty because I snorkulated the contents in under five minutes.

The rubberband.  Why is there a random blue rubberband in my window sill?  Because a certain Pookie was zapping people in the rear-end and the rubberhand had to go to time out.  If I were the mean old mommy that I sometimes am (when I have more energy), I would've thrown it away.  Instead it's there to taunt him because there still is a bit of mean old mommy in me today. 

The empty glass.  I drink a lot of water.  I do not like washing 8 to 10 glasses just for me every day.  So I leave my glass up on the window sill for a whole day at a time.  Sometimes it even has a little water in it while sitting there.  Not today.  It got too hot.  bleck.

There are water spots on my window.  Be grateful you don't have to look at the mold that is often growing on this window.  I bleach the guts out of it at least weekly.  Actually, I Tilex it.

Outside the window there are weeds in my flower garden.  Lots and lots of weeds.  I don't want to talk about that.

The blue truck.  Beautiful.  Shiny.  Always Clean.  These people have no children.  They have a clean truck. 

The green grass.  mwahaha.  I don't live in the Frozen North anymore.

Okay, all done with the randomness.  I think Luigi's calling my name again.  Ciao.

Ask away!

Please submit your cloth diapering questions that I haven't answered here or need further explanation.  I will compile another post of Cloth Diapering Q & A. 

I suppose if you have other questions, you can ask them too.  I can't guarantee I'll know the answer-- unless it specifically applies to me and my family.  Feeling nosey?  You could read my 100 list.  It's a little outdated though.  Maybe I'll write another one when I hit 100 subscribers. 

Good bye February! Hello March!

Baby Buddies

Squdge on left, Tater on right

Bun & Gabbers

Bun & Gabbers feeding ducks

Bun, Gabbers, Pookie, Ham at “Duck Park” 

  Gabbers shrieking, “They’re hissing!”

Pookie was so peaceful and happy at the water’s edge feeding the ducks.

Gabbers (second from right) and friends selling Girl Scout Cookies at the commissary



My Homemake Monday tip is linked to an old post found for homemade reusable nursing pads.  I'm trying not to have more than two posts in one day.  ;)  Moderation in all things, right?

And you know what?  I'm featured today at 11th Heaven's Homemaker Mondays.  Go see!

Nudied babies and Moldy Ducks.

 

 

Squdge’s foot in Tater’s face—just like in utero.

Squdge on left, Tater on right

Gabbers enticing babies with a moldy duck.  See that dark spot near its tail? 

We noticed that right after squeaking it in their faces.  gross.

 

Which reminds me, I have Good news.  We have been notified that the Air Force will pay to move us downtown (off base) due to the mold. 

We won’t have to do the regular inspection cleaning; we’ll just have to clean the appliances.  It pays to put on your bossy pants and march into the housing office with four of your six kids. 

“See these two six month old babies?  They have been sick since Halloween with brief periods of wellness.  And it’s because of the house.  I want you to move us NOW.”

Moldy old age of 6.

"Look Mommy!  I'm a little mold spot."

That's what Gabbers said to me last night after putting on one of Danny's old shirts as a nightshirt.  So I couldn't resist posting it and taking a picture too.  It's a freebie.  I rarely plan Saturday posts.  You're welcome.

Tilex. How I love thee . . .

I'm convinced our home is making us sick. I called the housing office and complained of mold saying my kids have been sick from Halloween through now with brief breaks of non-sickness (yes, they're sick again-- the three under three have ear infections and need breathing treatments as well). 

So the maintenance people came out, took a look, and said, "Oh, this isn't mold. It's just mildew."  Well, I guess the definition of mold and mildew differ from person to person.  Regardless, they wouldn't do anything about it.  I was hoping they'd move us into a bigger "mildew-free" home on their dime.  He said, "You just gotta wipe it.  Like this."  And then he demonstrated how to wipe away "mildew."  It's about time after nearly 15 years of adulthood, 11 1/2 years of marriage, and 8 years of parenthood, someone taught me how to wipe. 

I've been Tilex-ing everything in sight since.  If they're tearing down this house later this year, I'm not too worried about if Tilex will ruin the 60 years of paint around the windows. 

On a happier (less sarcastic) note:

I keep meaning to look for children's art classes in the area.  My Gabbers shows promise.  (I'm her mother. I can say that.)  She drew this picture a few years ago of a "Happy Slug."  She could draw for hours and hours if given the opportunity.

Happy Slugs don't agree with you?  Go read about a slug that did not bring happiness.  Click here.

The picture contained in this post is sole property of the Gabbers. All rights reserved. Anyone that dare take this picture and claim it as their own is a sicko.