Forgettable memories

Can you say “hermeneutics”?

~ Christie ~ Leave a comment

Hope is intelligent, articulate and exact. Sophia is funny, crazy and mischievous.

They were sitting at the table, coloring. I was in the living room folding clothes. Which seminary class their father would attend that night was the topic of their conversation.

Sophia asks, “What class does Daddy have tonight?”

“Hermeneutics,” Hope replies.

“Oh…” and Sophia repeats hermeneutics. Except…she didn’t say it quite right. Almost, but not quite.

“No,” Hope corrects her, “her-me-noooo-tics.”

“Hermejetics.”

“Hermeneutics.”

“Herbejuckus?”

“Say ‘herm-”

“Herm-”

“-men-”

“-men-”

“-noo-”

“-noo-”

“-tics.”

“-tics.”

Hope is very happy with this. “That’s it! Now say hermeneutics.”

“Hermalexa.”

This went on and on. Sophia never cracked a smile, never changed her voice at all. Honestly, I didn’t know she had such creative, verbal-convoluting abilities in her.

Hope never caught on. Okay, she caught on when Sophia digressed into using bathroom word endings. Ay-yay-yay. That’s when I stepped in between peals of laughter, “Okay, okay.”

Was that really my three and four year old? Yep. Thanks for the reminder that my husband’s stellar sense of humor …has definitely been passed down.

Can you say “hermeneutics”?

A Giant in the House

~ Christie ~ Leave a comment

 

photo credit
photo credit

They creep through the house, quiet and trembling. I watch from my place at the sink as they hurry into their room and close the door. After a few minutes, the door swings open and four little girls come running out, screaming, “A giant! The giant’s here!” Laughing, giggling, and talking over each other, they come to me and try to explain their game.

A few weeks ago, we found an adorable old book at Salvation Army called The Giant’s Shoe. The girls know it so well that they go around quoting it.

Also a few weeks ago, my husband decided in the middle of dinner to demonstrate the height of Goliath with a tape measurer. (Goliath had been the topic of many of their conversations that week)

Maybe these explain all the giant talk in our house lately???

One giant game I’m particularly fond of is the one that requires they hide between the piano and the wall, covered in blankets and completely quiet. They stay there a long time!! It’s amazing what kids do to entertain themselves.

Hope and Sophia think it’s great fun, but every now and then Gracie runs into the kitchen because she’s truly frightened herself. Mckayla just follows them wherever they go and laughs.

One day Gracie was talking about how much they eat and so I asked her, “Gracie, what do giants eat?”

The answer: “Lions!” In her most dramatic voice.

That night I asked her again to see if she would say it again, but this time she replied, “Five pizzas!” Again, dramatic voice.

Another time I asked her, “Gracie are you scared of giants?”

“No, they’re not sca-wy. Giant’s are nice, just big.”

Well, the giant in the book ran away in a torrent of tears, but from the sounds in the hallway, I’m pretty sure ours is still sticking around. = )

Sophia called the kettle black

~ Christie ~ Leave a comment

January-June 2011 258Do you ever look at your children around the table and think “Were these kids raised in a barn?”

And then think, “Wait; they’re only 5,3,2, and 1, maybe this is normal.”

And then think, “I don’t care! We have got to learn table manners!”

Maybe that’s only me. I think these things often. One of the biggest areas I don’t understand is the little skill of silverware usage. Currently, my one year old wants to use her fork for everything because she just figured it out and is so excited. I spent months working with the other ones to master this skill at the appropriate ages. So why do they want to eat with their fingers now?

We were sitting at dinner tonight; Paul was actually with us. Everything had been fine and we were almost done. Gracie, who was done, held her fork up high above the table and let it drop… clatter, clatter, clatter. Paul looked over at her and gave her some serious instruction regarding what a fork should and should not do at the table.

“Gracie, you don’t ever bang your fork on the table. You don’t ever scratch the table with your fork. Your fork shouldn’t even be on the table unless Mommy put it there before we ate.”

“Yessur,” she replied.

Paul began to turn away from her and then with tongue-in-cheek added something like, “You don’t even use your fork to eat your food…”

“I do!”  Sophia exlaimed as she grabbed her last piece of pork with her FINGERS and popped it in her mouth.

Laughter poured out of me so suddenly that I had to cover my mouth to keep my food from, um… coming out. Paul looked at me to see what was so funny; all I could do was point to Sophia. He glanced over just as she pulled her fingers from her mouth.

He began laughing, putting his head down and shaking it.

Hope was already laughing hysterically as she had caught the moment with me.

Sophia began laughing because she thought she knew why we were laughing. (which made us laugh harder)

Mckayla laughed because that’s what she does.

We laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

It was so funny; so Sophia; and so forgettable.

That’s why I wrote it down here.

A happy place

~ Christie ~ Leave a comment

blogpics 006This kitchen will never be featured in a magazine. It will never receive enthusiastic compliments from friends and visitors. It’s only future is to observe my less-than-perfect cooking skills and to endure my fledgling attempts to keep it immaculate.

But this little room is a happy place for me. Want to know why?

I get to teach my little girls how to make macaroni and cheese here. (And hopefully insure that they will never try to make a homemade salad dressing out of a raspberry crystal light packet)

What could be more fun than sitting on a floor with a four, three, and two-year old making lunch while the one-year old sleeps?

blogpics 002I wish you could have seen their delight at all they got to do; unwrapping butter, shaking in salt and pepper, adding and stirring the cheese. Hope was cheddar, Gracie was mozzarella, and Sophia was parmesan.

The floor got a little messy; it took longer than if I had just done it myself, but that didn’t seem to matter.  

This little incident really impressed me, obviously enough to get a camera and take some rough home photos.

Why did something so insignificant fill me with this deep, abiding sense of happiness?

I think that true happiness always catches us off guard. How many times have I done things trying to manufacture happiness? But there was none of that on this particular Saturday; just got up, got the girls up, made breakfast, probably played or folded laundry, sent my sweet husband off to the library and hoped that the rest of the day wouldn’t be too difficult.

And for some reason decided to put the pot of noodles down on the floor so the girls could make macaroni and cheese with me. Weeks later, I’m writing about it and still trying to figure it out.

Happiness doesn’t depend on beautiful surroundings, ideal circumstances, or perfectly planned activities. It just happens; I think I would argue it happens when you’re thinking about yourself the least.  

blogpics 010Okay, I could easily make a long list of things that sound more fun than making macaroni and cheese with preschoolers. I’m a big girl; I have interests, desires, dreams; but for right now, teaching them and spending time with them are the steps I find myself taking. And the big picture truth I’m thinking about is that these small steps have right here, right now, brought me to a happy place.  

p.s. Thank you all so much for reading; you’re giving me unexpected encouragement.

Just you and me baby

~ Christie ~ Leave a comment

If I had a wishlist of things to do with my girls, one of the very top items would be to spend time with each of them alone. As you can imagine, with four of them four and under this is nearly impossible. (Unless you possess an incredible skillset including organization and determination, of which I do not! Hmm…one of the reasons for starting this blog…)

Anyways here is the long shaggy dog about how my wish came true! Sophia began showing signs of mild sickness first, followed by Gracie and Hope. After lunch, Sophia and Gracie were laying around practically beginning to nap on the living room floor. I wasn’t sure that Sophia would actually take a nap, but after putting her in my bed and laying Gracie down, one look at her said she was out. By this time it was time for Mckayla to go down and voila! I had an afternoon with Hope all to myself.

I think sometimes it’s the easiest to bypass the oldest when it comes to giving individual attention.

Her first request was to work in her letter book (always my learner); then we looked at birthday cakes on pinterest and played the piano. Oops…forgot to fold the laundry, again. Actually the most bizarre thing we did was to look at pictures from superstorm Sandy the day before. She asked me if some cars could swim.

Next I got to play with Mckayla by herself. Gracie was still asleep and Hope and Sophia were resting in my bed. I nursed her and then she did the cutest thing with The Open Road. She would flip the pages back and forth and say “DA-Dat!” every time she saw the mole. I could almost promise she tried to say “flower” too, but I’m not biased or anything. I love seeing the pleasure babies get out of doing such simple things over and over. Then when that finally got old, I tickled her and she laughed and laughed. That’s pretty much our favorite activity when we’re together, her and me. = )

And Gracie. Well, to start with she napped from 2:00pm to 6:30pm, and therefore averted the sluggish yuckiness that had afflicted her sisters. (Insert hilarious non-related to title theme story: At dinner Gracie saw a bug, proceeded to clap her hands and proudly pronounce, “I got it!” Then she looked at her hands, wrinkled her nose and said, “Him gwoss!” Was there a bug in her hands? Of course not.) So, there was no way I was putting her to bed at 8:00 like her sisters. We sat together by the bookshelf and she picked books and I read them. Then she would go back page by page and ask a dozen questions about everything she saw. If you’ve ever wondered what love feels like, sometimes it’s not so much a dramatic explosion inside as it is thirty pounds of soft, squishiness sitting down in your lap.

As I write this, I realize that there’s no special time with Sophia recorded here. Does changing her from a wet bed at 3:00 this morning count? Actually, Sophia was the first one up this morning as usual. We normally enjoy hugs and cuddles before everyone else gets up. Actually, I’d say it’s split half and half between hugs and cuddles and bouncing up and down and running back and forth in the hallway …on her part of course, I just watch and adore and try to bring it back around to hugs and cuddles.

I wish I could have time with them like that every day. They’re absolutely wonderful all together, but when I’m with them alone I feel like I can really soak the moments up so much better. Their expressions amaze me; I never get tired of watching them.

I love you, girlies