Of Raising Cowboys

The beauty of living in a smallish/biggish town is that it's the best of both worlds. We've got what this "city"(ish) girl calls civilization (because as soul-sucking as it is, I used to believe you couldn't call it a town if it didn't have a Wal-Mart - Oklahoma has well proven me wrong by now), but we've also got a little bit country going on over here. Which means we can take an afternoon drive through the back roads to see horses and cattle (and squirrels - which we didn't have much of in our old house, so Micaiah called them "wild animals" when we saw them on the outskirts).

It also means every summer . . . the rodeo comes to town! And this isn't your average small-town rodeo. I mean, it's a big-time deal, with participants from all over the nation converging on our streets and grocery stores for a week every July.

And I used to not really care. I'd notice the signs in town welcoming the visitors, and I'd notice the increase in traffic, but that was about it. The hullabaloo didn't have much to do with me (I was still clinging to the city in me, I suppose).

And then I had kids. Kids who, like all little ones, love animals and cowboys. And I saw the yearly rodeo with new eyes - an experience our children would adore. So, this year, we piled in and headed out.

I didn't tell them before-hand where we were headed (which can be a hit-or-miss strategy - sometimes it leads to squeals of excitement when they figure it out, other times it leads to, "But where's the surprise?"), but as we traversed the parking lot, spying teenagers in wide-brimmed hats grooming their steed, they started the squealing. Cowboys! Cowgirls!

And as we entered the arena, with a sea of real cowboys and girls atop their horses, waiting for their turn to compete, they were in awe. And so was I.

Here was this crowd of teenagers, mostly, who had the discipline and drive to devote themselves to the animals in their care - training them to move with precision and speed. They had trained their own bodies to endure the trials of being bucked from animals weighing hundreds of pounds. They had learned to wrestle cattle, throw an effective lasso and avoid the stomping hooves of angry bulls.

I want my kids to be cowboys. And if they can't manage to procure their own beasts of burden, perhaps they can find some way to at least rein in the spirit of perseverance and hard work that comes with the territory. I want them to own the courage and tenacity it takes to pick yourself up, dust off your pants, and get right back in the ring. I want them to tackle their problems with focus and determination, prepared to wrangle the issue to the ground and lift their hands in triumph upon completion (even if victory was more difficult and harder coming than anticipated).

And it wouldn't hurt if they'd don a cowboy hat every now then - because everyone looks good in a cowboy hat.

Suckers instantly make any experience that much better.

Look at all those cowboys back there!

It was a rainy day, so here she is, middle of July, cuddling from the cold. As she snuggled, I taught her to count the seconds during the bull riding, to judge how good the ride was. She got just as excited as we did when a couple riders stayed on for the full eight-count.

Of Enjoying Real Life

As I watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade last week, my remnant of personal tradition among my husband's family, with children scattered over the room declaring, "We want to watch a kids's show!", I assured them they were lucky they don't get stuck watching Mommy's and Daddy's choices very often, because when I was a girl . . . we sat on the living room floor very quietly watching whatever was on - and while the Flintstones made a regular appearance, so did M.A.S.H. and last night's video recording (you know, the kind actually taped over and over on the same VHS, none of this digital nonsense) of David Letterman, so as far as I'm concerned, my kids are living the life, entertainment-wise. So could Momma just have this one morning of the year, for crying out loud?

Nevertheless, there were the sweet moments, like when the Rockettes - the highlight of the yearly event, the part my mom would run in from the kitchen to see so that we were always watching at least that part together while the turkey took a rest from its morning preparations - donned the screen and my eldest and youngest turned Papaw's living room into their own stage. That girl kicking as high as she could and that little boy twisting in his own best version of dance. Special memories for a momma passing down her own childhood moments.

And then they announced it. Next Thursday evening would be a special live broadcast of an entirely redone Sound of Music.

To those who turn on their TV's regularly, this was probably old news. As it was, I was hit with it for the first time that morning and was already scheming how to tune the children out between the 7pm start time and their 8pm bedtime. Momma was going to need another allowance, and only a week later, to tune the television to her choice - while the kids were awake. It's a risky proposition because we all know, with three children aged five and under scurrying about, one can rarely hear her own thoughts, let alone the TV. Maybe they could go to bed early.

Either way, I spent the week reminding myself and my husband, though the hideous foil-adorned antenna had been stowed in the attic during this house-selling season of our lives, it would need to be pulled out for at least one night. I was watching that TV special - and suddenly I was having 90's flashbacks - who actually tuned in to a live TV special these days? Who doesn't simply watch them the next day, or at least with a delayed start so as to fast forward commercials? Apparently we, of the no cable, no DVR, no Netflix, even. That's who. I didn't even have a blank VHS handy. I was behind the technological times even if it had been 1993.

Then Thursday came and forecasts of ice and snow and a wintry mix of wonderland flooded the forecast and my mind. I was planning chili and Christmas movies and what dessert to prepare as a family while we snuggled in our warm nest. So, it wasn't until after the chili and after the newest VeggieTales Christmas DVD (see? sometimes we at least catch up to 2001 with our entertainment technology), as we stirred puppy chow in the kitchen and pondered what slice of holiday media to enjoy with our chocolately goodness that I declared, "It's Thursday!" "Yes it is," confirmed my confused husband. "We only have 18 minutes!" I cried, glancing at the clock.

Catching on, he dutifully, and reluctantly, hurried to the attic for that blasted antenna and, after the powdered sugar had been shaken over the snack and everyone had their bowls of Chow and cups of milk, we finished our Jesse Tree devotion just in time to tune in.

I hadn't planned to snuggle together as a family with a fire in the fireplace, all eyes on the recreated classic, but it's the way it happened - as it goes with all best memories, the kind that can't be created on purpose. And then my littlest boy started dancing to the chorus of the hills coming alive and my daughter was twirling across the floor while Maria sang of her favorite things. And there we were in that blissful moment, and I didn't care that it would keep the kids up two extra hours, or that I sometimes couldn't see because an excited three-year-old has a knack for sticking his giant noggin in front of the TV, or that the acting was sometimes sub-par, or even the question at every commercial break, "Is it coming back?" (commercials are still a little foreign to them). I didn't care because we were making memories. The same kinds of memories I have from my own childhood, of sitting around the black box as a family, watching that TV special, with the Christmas lights twinkling and the icicles forming outside.

These are the moments real life is enjoyed.

Of the Sibling Connection

Gram and Grandy have spirited Micaiah away this week for some quality grand-daughter time (given they'll have quality grand-son time while she is adventuring in Ecuador later this month). They have spent an amazing amount of time tuckering that girl out on one excursion after another - I'm sure she won't even want to come home (I probably wouldn't).

Meanwhile, Philip and I have been doing our best to soak up every minute with these precious boys, particularly with the middle child who is currently enjoying the benefits of being the oldest at home. Thus, last night we took him, just him, on a special date with Mommy and Daddy while Joey enjoyed some quality Aunt Dia time.

We took the little guy first to the library, as we typically go on Tuesday mornings but tiny one slept until noon that morning (no, I'm not complaining about the glorious amount of sleep allotted to me with the early riser out of the house). Emmett was quite happy to meander the library, picking out movies and books and playing with trains. Of course, after selecting the trains to borrow, he went through his ritual of testing their size, a routine established after a particularly sad instance when his chosen vehicle could not pass through the tunnel on the train table. Ever since, that's the first place his trains go, just to be sure. Philip, who rarely gets the pleasure of accompanying us to the library, found this deliberate action quite humorous.

Finally, as we had a movie to head to, I suggested Emmett go put the sticker on his summer-reading-program calendar so he could pick out the prize he gets just for coming to the library every week. Philip was surprised, figuring we could squeeze out at least five more minutes before heading out. He doesn't know the process that is picking a prize out of that small bucket. In fact, because of this lengthy process, in which Emmett pulls out every possible toy in every possible color, with varying degrees of enthusiasm which suggests he might actually want a few of them, before putting them back and causing my head to droop with exasperation, we were still ten minutes late to the theater. What he finally walked out of the library with, proudly in his pocket, was an orange pencil sharpener in the shape of a puppy. Because the yellow and blue ones weren't good enough.

After the movie, which included indulging in too much popcorn and too much soda, we headed home to tell Aunt Dia all about his exciting adventures. And even though he had already headed to bed by the time we were talking to her, when he heard his sister's voice on the speakerphone in the living room, he rushed out to say hello.

"Do you want to tell her what you did today?" I encouraged him, knowing he saw the same movie she had seen with Gram a few weeks ago and thinking he might be excited to tell her. Instead, what came out in his slurred and halting three-year-old speech was,

"Caiah, I got a sharpener!"

Now, had this been an adult on the other end of the phone, I probably would have translated, considering they actually care about carrying on a conversation, but I knew it would take longer to explain the entire story to the four-year-old than was necessary for anyone. Besides, she just wanted off the phone, anyway, since she'd already told us all good-bye.

There was a long pause while she processed the sounds he'd made, which I'm sure were even less clear after traversing the airwaves. I waited for an, "Oh, ok" that would have come from any older listener that would indicate, "I have no idea what that meant, but I'll pretend" or even a, "What, Bubba?" because she hasn't yet learned the art of the polite pretending.

After the few moments of silence, what she finally responded with was, "Oh . . . did you get that at the library?"

Philip and I dropped our jaws in shock. She not only understood what he said, but actually followed the thought process back to its source?!

Clearly children truly do have their own language. Or maybe it's just the sibling connection.

Either way, these kids are great.

Of a Morning at the Movies

A few years ago I started seeing advertisements on various money-saving blogs for a summer movie series that various theaters across the country do - one children's movie a week, during the day, at a wonderfully reduced rate. Yes, they're old releases, but who doesn't love watching a movie on the big screen? Of course, I've come to realize with small(-ish) town living that the terms "regional" or "select theaters" generally rule us out. And such has been the case since I first learned of this summery movie extravaganza.

Not so this year, my friends. Not so this year.

This year our town joins the ranks, screening various children's favorites for only $4 - sure it's not free as others do, but the price of admission includes popcorn, a drink and fruit snacks. You won't hear any complaining about that from our kids (especially since they're not paying for it).

As soon as I caught wind of the excitement to come, I loaded up my calendar - each and every Thursday morning screening is prominently labeled, so I'll know which days we need to be lining up at the ticket counter.

Yesterday was the first of these much-anticipated days.

I loaded up the kids - a little concerned about how Joey would do, but also recognizing I was going to a movie theater at 10am to watch an animated movie everyone probably already owned on DVD - I doubted a squawky toddler would receive much attention. I knew I'd have my hands full, but it's not like I'm completely clueless at this point when it comes to toting around three children under the age of five.

I've got this.

What I forgot to factor in was toting around three children under the age of five (one on my hip) and three kids' boxes filled with popcorn and soda cups to spring-loaded theater seats not equipped for the meager weight of pre-schoolers and the inability to take bathroom breaks with the above mentioned munchkins and their snacks.

Let's just say, I have quite a few mental notes of how to do it better next time. These include not handing Emmett his popcorn tray until he has figured out how not to get scrunched by the chair, not arriving early so as to cut down on the time needed to hold a 15-month-old's attention (well, and just plain hold him - especially when he's using all his squirmy might to escape to the floor) and not having to share my (aka the baby's) popcorn with older brother (which includes a side-note of making sure his doesn't get spilled) - because when the popcorn is gone, so is that fidgety baby boy.

All things considered, we all had a fairly enjoyable morning. Joey finally resolved himself to the fact that Mommy wasn't letting go (no matter how good the popcorn on the floor looked) and, thumb in his mouth, settled his tiny head on my arm. Emmett learned how to hold his seat in place and made sure to point out to me all the parts that were funny. Micaiah leaned over at one point, to snuggle with Momma, and had a great time laughing when the other kids laughed (even if she didn't always get the joke).

The kids and I agreed, a morning at the movies is definitely not a bad way to pass the summer time.

Of Bedtime Kisses

It was a night to remember.

Not for anything glamorous.

It was a spaghetti-stains-making night.  A snuggle on the couch watching our favorite 90's TV show night.  A giggling with dinner guests night.  An "I don't like green beans!" night.  A put the baby to bed early because he's just plain grumpy night.

And none of these by themselves would necessarily be memories in the making.

But when it all culminates with bedtime stories on Mommy and Daddy's bed, passing kisses from left to right and right to left - with that oldest boy pulling his daddy's head down by his hair so he can kiss it just right, right on the top.  And head kisses turned to elbow kisses and elbow kisses were shoulder kisses and shoulder kisses were cheek kisses.  Sloppy kisses, giggling kisses, don't-want-to-send-them-to-bed kisses.

And who would want to forget a night like that.

Because it's how the day ends that makes all the rest of it make sense.

1,000 Gifts:
1117.  All. of. it.

Of Christmas Traditions

I am a big fan of traditions.  I like starting them and I like continuing them.  With every passing year, I treasure the repetitious rituals - it's what makes a holiday feel "right" to me.

For Christmas, one of my favored activities growing up (admittedly, I think I was the only child who enjoyed this - or maybe my brother's complete disdain overshadowed my sister's shared joy, I can't be sure), was looking at Christmas lights.  Every year, typically after the Christmas Eve service, my family would load up in the van, head to Sonic for milkshakes (because there's nothing like a cold treat while bundling up from the cold . . . apparently) and cruise the neighborhoods, admiring or critiquing the handiwork of others.

Thus, I have been eager to continue the tradition with our own little ones and have been pushing this for the past week.  And tonight was the night.

I prepped myself for the dreamy image in my head of a blissful family evening to go quickly awry - it always seems to with toddlers.  For our two big kids, who are accustomed to watching a dvd during any trip longer than five minutes, I was particularly concerned.

Apparently, though, Harry Connick, Jr. crooning "Frosty the Snowman" is the exact ingredient required to distract children from the lack of animated characters on the screen before them and entice them to gaze out the windows at the colored, blinking lights.  Either that or the "oohs" and "aahs" were simply sympathy admiration given in an attempt to match their mother's exuberance.  Either way, I'll take it.

The cries of, "Look, it's the Mommy purple reindeer and the Daddy purple riendeer!" and "It's Santa!  He's real and he's looking in our car!" were joy to a Momma's heart (for just one night, I didn't even feel the need to correct him).

And, yes, this evening of family togetherness was brought to you by Sonic, who, as always, provided the snacks.

Coupled with the spontaneous caroling at the dinner table for the past couple of nights (our children are loving "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer") and I would say it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

1,000 Gifts:
1063. Family traditions
1064. Lights on the street reminding us of the Light of the world
1065. "Good-bye, Puppy!  Have a special day!" said Emmett
1066. An evening of frustration ending with everything working as it should
1067. Plans, all asunder, falling back into place

Of a List of Lately

This list has been about a week in the making, thus it keeps growing.  Life will slow down someday, right?

- A couple weeks ago Joseph ate something that disagreed with him - it led to a late-night bath (which he loved), three changes of pajamas, and a cuddle session with Momma that lasted until 2am.  And, yet, when he wasn't getting sick or sleeping, he was giggling and smiling.  Happiest sick baby ever.

- That same week, we studied the 10 Plagues of Egypt here at home.  As a result, Micaiah still talks about how we're all going to live because we put "blood" (in the form of a red ribbon) over our door (though Daddy's fate was questionable, because he was at work at the time and, thereby, not in the house), and the children continue to ask to drink blood at lunch (don't worry, we used Kool-Aid instead, because vampires aren't as cool as some people pretend).

- After a random suggestion by Micaiah, we planned an impromptu Saturday visit to the zoo last weekend.  It was pretty much the best zoo trip I could imagine.  Well, except for Emmett's insistence on calling the Bison "buffalo"- Mommy's still working on him.  He's still not cooperating.

- While playing with the Nativity set last week, Micaiah (playing the part of Mary) instructed the Wise Men, "I don't want the stuff you brought; I just want stuff for the baby.  I need water for the baby; bring me water!"  That's our practical girl.

- Joseph has begun cruising around the house, walking along the edge of the fireplace (which is lined with pillows, lest you worry) and the couches.  We predict walking before Christmas.

- Also, just in time for Christmas, Joseph's two front teeth.  Wish granted.

- Last week, after I got out of class early, I broke Emmett out of his class and spent a little time playing in the nursery with just him.  How fun it was to see what his little imagination comes up with all on his own, apart from influence from Big Sister.  I almost never get an opportunity to have one-on-one Emmett time and those imaginary cookies coming out of the microwave (and refrigerator, and cabinet . . .) of the toy kitchen were just about the best I'd ever tasted.

- I had a rare good-Mommy moment when I created an impromptu lesson on Joshua and the walls of Jericho last week.  We all marched around the wooden-block city of Jericho, shouted for all we had and watched the walls fall.  We then watched the VeggieTales rendition of Josh and the Big Wall, because what Jericho lesson would be complete without the French Peas?

- We made a family (+ Adopt-a-Bison) made a visit to the annual Christmas Parade on Main St.  The weather was perfect and the kids were perfectly content with the short half hour we stayed - they saw Santa (who Micaiah now insists is real) and each got a Tootsie Roll, what else could they need?  After, we decorated Christmas cookies, for which Micaiah promptly created an eating schedule ("I will eat the star after lunch tomorrow, and then I'll eat the snowman after dinner . . .), to which she stuck perfectly.

And those are just the highlights . . .

Of Getting Out the Tree

This evening as we jumped the gun on our Christmas decorating, it seemed as though the amount of involvement by various members of the family has truly grown exponentially.  While last year we had an excited, but still not really understanding, three-year-old and a brand-new toddler who wasn't interested in much more than crawling around the greenery, this year brought an exuberant four-year-old with a plan and a penchant for hanging ornaments (our tree actually lacks the clustered effect one might expect by the decorating abilities of two children under the age of five), and a two-year-old who could not wait for it to be his turn with every new piece of memorabilia adorning the branches.  I mean, he was into this thing - much more so than I believe his sister was even last year.

Of course, there was also the little crawler who was relegated to his spot in the corner, just watching the action, but when he was let loose, he was ecstatic by all the glimmer and flair.  With a ten-month-old opening gifts next month, I think this will be, by far, the most fun first Christmas in our family.

In any event, I'll declare this season gets more fun with every passing year.

1,000 Gifts:
1037. Two kids bent in the dirt
1038. The two of them, working together, to rip open a letter from their cousin
1039. Chicken on the bone
1040. Memories hung on a tree
1041. The little guy, standing in his crib
1042. How excited they get to see their little brother
1043. How thrilled he gets to crawl after them

Of Saying No

I'll be honest, we are not a baby-signing family.  I kind of wish we were.  I have a book of signs for babies.  We've watched Signing Time quite a bit.  But I lack the consistency.  As in, I usually forget to accompany my words with a physical motion of any sort.

Our older two both eventually learned "More," "Food," and "Please" so we could survive feeding time.  Anyone knowing our kids wouldn't be surprised by that combination of words. (Don't worry, we did teach them "All done" too).

Otherwise, nothing.

Joseph, however, seems to have figured something out.  Even if it's not technically correct.

When he reached the age of six months, we considered this to be the appropriate age for his first swats - nothing serious, just a small slap to the back of the hand when he touches something we prefer he wouldn't or to the leg when he's heading into a room where he doesn't need to be.  A firm "No" accompanied by a little swat (not even enough to draw a whimper) are typically all it takes for him to switch directions.

Eventually, though, much as I remember his older sister doing, upon hearing the word "No" as he crawled away, he began to stop, sit up, look at me, and slap his lap.  He knew what I was saying.  And he wanted me to know it (also that he could handle the discipline himself, thankyouverymuch).

Today, though, was the first time I had noticed a similar reaction when caught touching what shouldn't be touched by baby fingers.

"Joseph, no." I stated.

He looked at me, clapped and smiled, so proud of himself.  He was slapping his own hand, his own way.  And it was darn cute.  Philip agreed when he saw the same thing later that evening.

Now, he won't clap just to clap.  Only when we say "No".  As if it's a Sign.  Clearly that's what that little two-letter word means - "Let's Clap!"

What was really great, though, was later in the evening when Philip was antagonizing his littlest son (frustrating the children seems to be one of his favorite past-times) by putting his daddy hands all in Joseph's face.  And then Joseph clapped.

"I think he's telling me no!"

I think so, my dear.  I think so.

1,000 Gifts:
975. What once was lost, now is found (My camera is back!)
976. Melting crayons into something new
977. Creating a care package - mailing love
978. Her licking a stamp - apparently the old is not lost.

After a hard-core effort this evening, my camera was finally found, after I remembered we took photos at an air show two weeks ago and I hadn't seen those pictures - erego, it was misplaced at the same time.  Sure enough, it was found in Philip's coat pocket.  That's what happens when the temperatures drop suddenly and then pick back up, leaving the coats in the closets for weeks.

At the air show, me and my boys.

Love this face.

Standing on his own for the first time!

He loves his brother.

One of the few moments they were paying attention to what was happening in the air.

Joey and I were interested, at least.

Of Dating my Mate

Like most wives, I'm a big fan of date night, but, like most young couples, we're lucky to scrape together enough money to go out, let alone the sitter that goes with it - which means we're generally left to either mooch time off our friends and family (when available) or being content with Netflix and home-popped corn.  It's not bad, of course, but for some reason it never occurred to me that dating my spouse at home could actually be spontaneous, fun and creative.  I mean, really, we spend all our time at home - what else could we possibly find to do here?

Then I discovered (via Pinterest, of course), an amazing blog entirely devoted to creative date ideas.  I was in love.  And when I saw a date idea based completely on silly science experiments, I knew that was the kind of experience my husband needed.  Acting like a kid while watching crazy scientific reactions?  Well, that's just the kind of nerds we are.

And instead of just looking at it and thinking, "That's such a cute idea.  That would be fun to do someday,"  I thought, "We're going to do that and we're doing it now." - Ok, so there may have been a little more delay in my putting the date on my mental calendar, but the fact that I moved out of the thought phase and into action is a big step for me.

After a little research, both on the initiating blog and on Pinterest, I had my experiments chosen and I was ready for fun!

So, on Friday morning, I printed the invitation (bonus: my computer accidentally printed it in black and white, so when I re-traced it in marker to add flair, my man totally thought I drew it all by hand - yeah, that's right, honey).

Then, the kids and I went on a Wal-Mart run for supplies and left this in Philip's car at work as a surprise for him to find when he came home for lunch.  The Reese's Pieces may have had nothing to do with our date, but I knew they would make him beyond happy.  And I don't know where to find beakers, but I felt this vase looked "science-y". He was intrigued and a little confused (and, yes, happy, because he had candy).  

And since we were in the surprising mood, we stopped by Aunt Dia's office to brighten her day (which was entirely Micaiah's idea as we passed the flowers in Wal-Mart and she declared, "I want to get flowers for Dia!"  She insisted on the pumpkin, too - which Emmett is thinking is a little heavy in this photo).

As the kids napped, I gathered all the supplies for our chosen experiments and put them in fun gift bags - because everything is more exciting when you get to unwrap it.  I left it all on the counter to taunt him until the kids wene to bed.  The goggles may not have been necessary, but they kept him guessing.

For dinner, we had Mexican Chicken Stuffed Bell Peppers - which looked kind of like little explosions.  This may or may not have been entirely a coincidence, but it worked out nicely.

After we tucked all the little ones in, it was time for some one-on-one fun!  I first did the trick of serving him water from the tap that changed colors in his glass.  Philip was concerned he'd be able to taste the food coloring - he has overly sensitive taste buds (slightly rolling my eyes).

Before we moved on, we had to put on our safety gear just in case (okay, really just because we had them and, when you have safety goggles, why not wear them?!).

Then he began to open up his surprises . . .

First up, a Mentos and Coke explosion.  Only lame me didn't read the directions fully before going to the store and didn't notice the emphasis on Diet Coke - the experiment was much more sad than exciting.  Good news?  I couldn't find just a single sleeve of Mentos, so we have plenty more to try again next time.

The next experiment fared a little better - creating a lava-lamp-like reaction with oil, water and salt.  This one was rather fascinating.

The third "experiment" was creating secret messages out of lemon juice.  Again, lame me forgot to get real lemons - note to self: lemon juice in a bottle is NOT the same thing.

While we waited for that to dry, we moved on to creating soap foam in the microwave.  I was so excited about this one and glad we saved it until last.

Look what Ivory soap does in the microwave!  The fun part?  You can still use it as soap!  Coolest ever.

We were still waiting for the lemon juice to dry, so we played Mario Party, as Toad and Toadette (because they match and we're cool like that), because we had just discovered that evening that you can do a two-player duel on Mario Party - it's not like we've owned the game for five years or anything.

And, finally, we revealed our messages - or tried to.  But after using both the iron and Philip's super-hot painting lamp, we could only see half the messages, at best.  But I got a really neat photo out of it, so I count it as a win.

Shopping list for next time: Diet Coke and real lemons.

The next day, we continued the theme by taking the whole family to the Oklahoma City Science Museum for Smithsonian's Free Museum Day (it's kind of our annual tradition).  There, Joseph loved the Science Live show.

Micaiah did, too.

Plus, she got to paint her own face.

And Emmett made new friends.

And we topped it all off with Chick-Fil-A for lunch, Toys R' Us (to use Micaiah's birthday coupon), Krispy Kreme donuts (hey, when you made the drive to Oklahoma City, you're going to make the most of it) and video games at home - I'd say we all had a fantastic weekend. 

Let's do this again, sometime, shall we?

Of Acting Spontaneously

A movie I had requested was ready to be picked up at the library.  That's really how it all started.  I didn't even want to go out today.  

After so many weeks of plans and being in and out and running ourselves ragged, this one blessed weekend that remained untouched on our calendar was like a beacon, calling for us to slow down and take a moment to breathe.  I fully intended for us to spend that moment at home, all five of us, none of us running errands or darting to and fro.  But then there was that danged movie at the library.  And someone had to go get it (because, of course, if we're relaxing at home all day, we're going to need a movie to snuggle with).

So, we had decided I would make the most of the chore and take my daughter out for a little Mommy time as she absolutely loves playing at the library (don't worry, they have an entire corner of the building devoted to play-time).  But then there was the issue of our having stayed up until 1am (yes, yes, again) and then after a bug meandered along my jaw at 5:30, I was quite unable to rest my weary eyes with adrenaline and fear mixing in my veins for the next two hours.  As a result, my husband watched the big kids while I caught up on sleep just a little and found myself waking at just around 11:30am.  And I still hadn't had breakfast - and, well, it was pretty near lunch time for the little ones.

And then . . . it all came together.  Why shouldn't we just embrace the day and make an event out of this cross-town trip? 

And so we did.

First, we had to figure out how to set up the stroller we purchased a couple of months ago and had yet to use. Emmett waited patiently while Daddy and I thumbed through the manual and clicked things together (yes, right there in the library parking lot - there's nothing like feeling like a clueless parent for the whole world to see).

Ok, yes, Daddy actually did push the stroller while we were out, but we just needed to prove that getting around with three little ones can be done!  Not that I'd bother with getting the stroller out for any of my daiily errands, but just in case I needed to, now I know I can.

Lunch/Breakfast was at a new favorite for Philip and I - a place we have only visited once before due to their lack of evening hours, but fell in love with for their yummy food, cheap prices and down-home feel.  It's the kind of place that makes you feel like a "regular" from the moment you walk in.  Here's to you, Coney Island!

After lunch and some quality library time, we meandered home with a stop at Cherry Berry - the kids first visit ever.  And, despite their faces here, they absolutely loved it (and everyone present knew for certain Micaiah wanted "chocolate and sprinkles").

They may have also loved the fact that "the Rock and Roll show" (this is what she calls "Saved by the Bell" due to the opening credits - it's a show we watch daily at lunchtime; thanks, Netflix!) was playing on the giant television over their heads.

Joey enjoyed Cherry Berry, too, mainly because he got to spend the entire time cooing at that baby staring back at him from the mirror on his carseat toy.

After naps, the kids woke up to a surprise!

They sure did love romping around in the tent Daddy set up, just for fun!  And I'm really not sure what they're looking at here, but I love how they both wear the same expression.

The evening ended with dinner of hamburgers, pretzels and strawberry shortcake right there on the back patio, enjoying the beautiful evening weather.

And I'd say that itinerary would beat the pants off sitting at home on the couch any day.

1,000 Gifts:

501. Watching the teamwork of ants as they carry a piece of cat food much grander in size than themselves.

502. A movie in 3D.

503. Feeling a part of the "in" crowd.

504. A large bucket of popcorn.

505. Saying good-bye (that's one of those hard eucharisteos - so grateful for the opportunities before them, so sad to see them go!)

506. Re-reading words that have meant so much.

Project 365: The Back Issues - Here's what you've missed:

May 17: We spent Thursday evening attempting to be helpful to our wonderful friends who are now officially moved to Colorado (we're pretending that part's not true).  I'm afraid we weren't quite as beneficial as we'd hoped, but we did get to have a photo of Joey and Holly - who, if you are acquainted with his birth story, very nearly had to deliver him for us (and is now quite with child herself).

May 18: This is one of the roses from Mother's Day, which I thought looked just beautiful glistening with water droplets (after I sprayed the spider mites, which aren't so beautiful).

While I photographed the rose, Micaiah decided to lay down with Joseph while he wiggled in his play gym.  And if Sissy did it, Emmett's gotta do it.  Joey looked a little invaded, but he tugged on Sissy's hair to get even.

Joseph celebrated three months of life LAST Saturday, but we only just got to taking his photo with Jemima.  Getting so big!