BabyGirl is a freshman. Isn't that the most revolting thing you've read in months? Once they walk through the line at 8th grade graduation, our kids are officially labeled "Freshman." How can that be possible? I'm pretty sure it was just last week we were wrestling her into a pair of capris and a ratty tank top to drag her kicking and screaming out the door for 1st grade. There's no way she's 1 semester away from drivers ed. I reject your reality and substitute my own.

The week of her graduation was a tough one. We had VBS at church every day immediately after school. Miss T and I were busy trying to pack up our kitchen for summer break. One of our walk-in freezers died 2 days before school got out. I was trying to pack up so we could leave Friday immediately after I got off work so we could go to TN for Art's wedding. I was going to get to see PG (Princess's baby boy) up close for the first time that weekend. Hormones were raging. Mommy feelings were raw with BabyGirl moving on from the school she'd been in for 10 years. The house was a hot mess. The FarmHands were dragging home everything they'd ever made at school. And husband and I were having a breakdown in communication that was leaving me a weepy mess.

Graduation was Thursday night. QM was coming to town on Wednesday afternoon but Daddy couldn't make it. Wednesday I had to run to town to get BabyGirl a graduation present. Then I ran home to start scrubbing bathrooms and doing laundry. I was beyond exhausted and only 1/2 way through a very long week.

Daddy called to chat and I had a full on bawling meltdown on the phone. I was tired, angry, stressed out, and there was no end in sight. He kept telling me it was all going to be OK. He told me to take a deep breath and that no matter how things went I'd be done in just a few days. I hung up the phone and cried like a baby.

QM had told me she was nearly here but wanted to stop by Busha and Bucka's house first. Since I was in mad lady cleaning mode and had to pick the FarmHands up from VBS at 5:30, I told her I'd see her then. She told me she wanted to drop off BabyGirl's graduation present since it wasn't wrapped.

I met QM on the road home after VBS. She turned around before we got to her and was parked in my driveway when we pulled up. I hustled everyone inside and only had a chance for a cursory greeting before BB went into full on meltdown over a stye on his eyelid. I was trying to calm him down while washing his hands and fixing a hot compress while telling QM about my earlier meltdown on the phone with Daddy. Suddenly I heard a familiar voice say, "Hey, Aunt FarmWife?"

I didn't have to turn around. When I heard HT I knew QM had brought Princess and the boys with her. Deep sobs were instant and I fell on my mother while my sister was slipping her shoes off at the back door. When I turned to greet her, Princess just held out a sleeping bundle to me. "Here, just take him," she said.

The pictures of me meeting PG for the first time are of a bawling mess of an aunt and the sleepy smile of a tiny curled up nephew.

That was a good day.

The days that followed were also good.

Husband and I ironed out our communication issue. I finished my 3rd school year as a lunch lady. BabyGirl successfully (honors society gold cord and all) and beautifully (when did my little blonde with clothing issues become a stunning young lady) graduated from junior high. Art married her best friend in the most beautiful and touching ceremony I've ever witnessed. I spent 3 1/2 days in TN loving on my nephews, laughing with my family, and enjoying the hills I miss so much when I'm home.

Days have been good since. They've been long. They've been lazy. Summer has been simple. And it's not half over.

Tiny Tragedies

The bus drops the FarmHands off at 4 o'clock each afternoon.  By 4:02 my once quiet house is a swirling mass of chaos and confusion and conflict.  Every day.  It doesn't matter how well they're getting along- once they hit the door they all fall apart.

I've given myself over to the rush of crazy that cannot be avoided from 4:02 to 4:30 every day.  There will be crying.  There will be arguments.  There will be weakness from near starvation.  There will be injuries or stomach aches or headaches or other ailments.  There will be sadness and heartache.

But just occasionally, there will be a hug for mom.

Today Bitsy fell and skinned her elbow the moment they hit the driveway.  She screamed bloody murder all the way up to the house while BabyGirl coddled her and B.B. screamed, "Bitsy's hurt!  Bitsy's hurt!"  I could see from the front windows that she was not "run down the driveway and carry her to the house" hurt, so I didn't.  Once inside, she cried for 30 minutes about a scrape she would normally slap a wet paper towel on and run off to play.  She cried for a cup of milk. She screamed for a banana.  And finally, she passed out on the couch sucking her fingers half wrapped in a blanket.

B.B. entered the house ready to fall to pieces because we're not doing Boy Scouts.  This has been an on going argument since #1 Son started 1st grade.  Every year they have an assembly for the boys from 1st to 5th grade where the praises of Boy Scouts are sung.  Every year they bring home their sign up sheet and every year I say no.

I have nothing against the Boy Scouts- on the contrary- I think they're a wonderful organization and if I only had the boys, I'd sign them up in a heart beat.  But I have girls.  Yes, I know, they have girl scouts, but I don't have time to shuttle 4 kids to 4 different places 15 times a week (all exaggerations, I know).  We have our hands full with school, work, 4-H, and cheerleading.  I am not adding scouting to the mix.  They boys know this but inevitably we have the same issue every school year.

B.B. is convinced that every boy in the entire school, save him and his brother, are partying their lives away at scout meetings complete with free toys and all you can eat s'mores.  Nothing I say can dissuade him, do I've given up trying.  I just ride out the very brief wave of grief.  It rarely lasts more than a day or two and
never has lasting effects........although I'm mildly convinced Boy Scouts will be B.B.'s Easy Bake Oven.  You see, Inkling had an Easy Bake Oven and I always wanted one but my parents would never buy it.

I'm off to pout now.  And dream of the fabulous brownies I never got to bake with a hundred watt bulb.

Bless her little heart.

There's a little boy from school who's had to have heart valve replacement surgery this summer.  We've been praying for him and talking about him a lot the past week or so.  He's going into first grade and is the sweetest little boy you'd ever want to meet.

Today we picked up some art goodies for him at the store to help keep him happily occupied this summer.  We're planning on taking them to him sometime this week.  Bitsy got a bit bent out of shape about giving him stuff when she wasn't getting anything (such a generous heart that one has, ha, ha, ha).  I explained that we were getting him some art stuff because he can't go outside and run around and play and go swimming this summer like she can.  "Why not?"

"Well, because A had to have surgery, sweetie."

"Like you did, Mommy?"

"Sort of.  But I just had to have a little cut in my belly.  He's had to have a big cut in his chest.  It's going to take A a lot longer to get better than it's taken me."

"Why did A have to have a big cut on his chest?"

"Because part of his heart needed to be fixed so he had heart surgery."

Then Bitsy got very quite and though rather hard for a bit.  "Mommy, does A still love Jesus?"

I was seriously taken back by this.  "What, Baby?"

"Does A still love Jesus?"

Then it sunk in.  "Do you mean because he had to have heart surgery and Jesus lives in our hearts?"

"Yes.  Does Jesus still live in A's heart even after the doctors did surgery?"

"Yes, Baby.  Jesus still lives in A's heart just like He lives in yours.  Doctors cannot take Jesus out of our hearts."

"OK.  Good." And off she went.

Farm Girls can be pretty, too.

A short while ago I posted my header picture again & Art commented that I needed cooler mud boots. While my boots are both warm for the winter & functional in the mud & muck farm life has in store, they are not cute. Not even a little bit. In fact, they are the total opposite of cute. But for once, I've taken function over fashion. B-o-r-i-n-g.

A few weeks ago we had to take the FarmHands to the big town of E'ville for dental appointments. Afterwards we made a GIANT Rural King run. Not that we had to get a lot at Rural King, but the Rural King we were visiting was HUGE! I love it there. It's like the Ikea of farm supply stores (not that I've ever been to an Ikea...I'm just guessing). The boys both needed new mud boots as they've outgrown & worn out their last pairs.

While searching through green & black boring boots, I stumbled on the super cute ones. They had their own aisle. Most of them were for kids. Horses, fire trucks, lady bugs & the like decorated most of the boots. On the next shelf over were women's mud boots in pastel plaids, polka dots, candy stripes, and other pretties. They weren't terribly sturdy, fit mostly for rain puddles & not hog stalls.

And then I turned the corner. There they sat in all their resplendent glory. Purple Paisley Cowboy Boots made entirely from rubber. I'm pretty sure I heard angels singing country music in the back ground. Knowing full well that I was not going to buy them, I still needed to try on a pair. I have a perfectly good pair of boot at home. I had no real call to spend money on fancy ones....as much as I wanted to.

Today I went to Bucka & Busha's to shampoo their carpet before the Aunties come to visit for their week in the fall. Busha & I were talking in the kitchen when she went into one of the back bedrooms & brought out a big shopping bag. In it were the boots! She & Bucka & Uncle Gick had doctors appointments in E'ville yesterday & they decided to check out the Giant Rural King. Busha decided I needed the boots so she found an employee to help her hunt them down.

I am a very happy FarmWife now. And for good measure, it started raining this afternoon, so they'll have to be worn tomorrow!

I only hope Art approves.

---------------

Oh, and Zann, yes, BabyGirl did stay at her camp out. She had a wonderful time! Hiking, rappelling, compass walk, blindfold walk, rope walk, scavenger hunt, sing-a-long at the campfire, hot dogs, s'mores, pop corn over the campfire, breakfast on buddy burners (cookers made from a candle & a coffee can), teachers sneaking in to TP the tents, games, giggling, little sleep, dirty shoes.....you name it, they did it! I'm so proud of her for sticking around. She decided to stay about 30 minutes after we got to camp while we were setting up the tents.

CAMP OUT!

Tomorrow BabyGirl is going on her first overnight camp out with her entire fifth grade class. This has been a tradition at her school since the mid 1970's. It's the reason to be in 5th grade around here.

But BabyGirl is a bit unsure about the whole thing. At first she didn't want to go at all. I talked to her teacher & he said she's not required to go and that she's free to go for the day but come home at night instead of sleeping over. The closer we've gotten to the big day, the more excited she's become.

I'm going with her class to help chaperon until 1:30 tomorrow afternoon. Then I'll come home to take care of the three youngest FarmHands. I told her I'd come back to get her at nine if she decided she didn't want to stay, but I'm really hoping she does. I think she'll have a great time if she sticks it out.

Please say a prayer for her tonight. I really want this to be a great memory for her like it has been for her cousins in years past.

Today I had an empty nest.

For three hours...but I wasn't in it. I was at Busha & Bucka's sipping coffee & laughing with my grandmother.

Bitsy started Pre-K today. I'm not really sure I was prepared for this. It's not like it was a great surprise. I had her screened in March. We've known for months this was coming. But still, dropping your baby off at school for the first time is a bit overwhelming....especially when she doesn't seem to notice you're gone.

Yesterday was visit day & she was glued to my thigh. Occasionally she would venture off into the class to check something out, but only if I was in a direct line of sight & only if another child was no where near what she wanted to look at. Today she tried to leave me as soon as we got to the front doors of the school. I walk her to her room, make sure she gets her back pack hung up, walk her to the play ground door, then say good bye. She tried to tell me good bye three times before we got to the play ground.

To answer your question: No. I did not cry. Not a bit. It was much easier than I expected. Does that come from three previous "first day" survivals or does it stem from the total amazement at three hours almost entirely to myself every week day of the school year? You decide. I'm going to take a nap.

Pondering & Praying.

I'm trying not to worry, but I think that may go against human nature.

Grandma M&M couldn't get out of bed on Saturday morning. She was very dizzy and ended up in the hospital. She has a history of strokes, so we tend to get concerned over things like this. The doctors said she has an inner ear ear "problem." She's on new medicine and back at the apartment now.

While she was in the hospital, Grandpa fell in the bathroom & broke his ankle. Uncle Greenteeth was with him and called the medics. He was also dehydrated (something he is prone to) and has a bladder infection. He was being moved to the rehab/nursing facility of the center where their apartment is for 2 weeks.

Bucka is having a tough winter. He's had shingles and he & Busha have both been ill with various viruses.

Grandma B (Unkie Di's mother) is not doing well. Her pacemaker is keeping her heart beating but she is so weak she can't really leave the house. I doubt Grandpa B will be able to bring her to church any more.

I am bracing myself for the inevitable. It's a horrible thought, but I know I cannot live the rest of my life with all my grandparents. The fact that they've all lived as long as they have and in the health they've enjoyed thus far is nothing short of a miracle. I even have a few "collected" grandparents left living. I am beyond blessed in this measure. I know that. I am trying to keep in mind that when the time comes I know that my grands all love the Lord. They are all going to be with Him in heaven. I will see them all again some day.

But I'm just not ready to stop seeing them here.

Would you please pray?

And life comes to a screeching halt.

I no more than hit publish on my last post when things went to Hades around here. Well, it did for Bitsy, anyway.

She had just finished her chocolate chip cookie when she proudly brought me another. "Dis one for Moomah!" She was so happy to have gotten a cookie for her imaginary friend. I said, "No. Moomah can't have a cookie. I have to put it up." Most things gotten for Moomah become Bitsy's possessions.

This must have caused some kind of catastrophe that I know nothing of because Bitsy collapsed on the floor in a heap of sobs and tears. Her poor little heart was absolutely shattered because Moomah was not allowed a cookie.

Being a mother, I picked up the sobbing pile and sat it on my lap. Between gasps and sobs she told me she wanted to take a shower. "You've already had your bath tonight, Baby." I thought the crying couldn't get worse.

I was wrong.

She must have had a few tenuous strands of self control still in her grasp & when I denied her a shower the snapped. Screams, sobs, wails of misery erupted from her tiny form. "Me not say me want a bath. Me say me want a shower. Why me never get a take a shower? Why #1 Son take a shower? Me want a bath!"

She was so upset she slid off my lap and hollered, "Don't touch me!" Unfortunately, she's only three and really needs to be held when her world falls apart. It took her about 7 seconds to realize I was the only parental unit available for comfort and she returned to my lap to sob out the remainder of the moisture left in her body.

It is so hard being three.

A bright dazzling light in the midst of the fog.

It's been a foggy day. Not literally, but emotionally. It's too cold to venture out for long. There's not much to do around the house that doesn't take effort I don't want to put in (I know, I'm at fault here). There's been a lot of crying and fighting and bickering amongst the FarmHands. Husband and I have been testy with each other. We've just not been at our best.

But there was one moment that made me remember why this is all worth it.

BabyGirl was invited to a swimming/birthday party next Sunday. She's over the moon about it. Bitsy is neon green with envy. Bitsy had a complete come apart this afternoon when her sister was trying on swim suits.

"Why me not go to da party?! Why me not go swimming? Why me have these bumps? Why B.B. not say sorry to me for giving me these bumps? Me never get a go swimming in my life! When Daddy put up our pool? When me go swimming?" She bawled and wailed and sobbed for a full 30 minutes.

I'm not mean. I promise. This party is for 4th graders. A 3 year old would not be welcome. Besides she's still sporting a healthy sprinkling of molluscum contagiosum and that doesn't need to be shared via public swimming pools. Bitsy simply cannot go. And she is broken hearted about it.

During this meltdown, Bitsy insisted on trying on one of her swim suits. I didn't know what was going on until she was already clad in bright pink Lycra and insisting that she needed to swim. When I said it was too cold to swim, the meltdown hit a record high. I hoped feared she's slip into a tantrum induced coma.

Suddenly BabyGirl piped up with a brilliant (if rather obvious) suggestion. "Can she go swimming in the bath tub?" Bitsy was thrilled with the idea and jumped at the opportunity. If BabyGirl hadn't seen the obvious answer past the screaming & crying, we might still be trapped in the never ending cycle that is a determined 3 year old.

And momentarily, the fog broke and the sun shone through.

It's Oh So Quiet.

It is oddly quiet in my house. Husband just left for work. Bitsy is taking a nap. Lilly May & Buddy Joe are sitting quietly at my feet. The television is off. The only noise is the tapping of my fingers on the key board and the air purifier humming away...and the occasional beagle howling outside.

I'm not sure I can deal with this much silence.

Yesterday was my fifth Blogoversary and I missed it. Even with my nifty countdown button on the side bar. I totally missed it. Oh well.

I'm beginning to wonder about Bitsy. She's always been a bit on the quite and shy side unless alone at home with "her people." But lately her personality is shining through like a search light. Who is this child & what has she done with my baby?

Yesterday we brought home a bag of hand-me-downs from a friend at school. She squealed with delight and screamed, "This is FABULOUS!" and, "Me be BEAUTIFUL in this!" until she was blue in the face. She then proceeded to wear three shirts and 2 pairs of shorts all at the same time.

Sunday night she decided she was going to sing a special at our annual candle light service. I went up with her and she sang Jesus Loves Me and Jesus Loves the Little Children. Normally she refuses to sing Deep & Wide with the other kids during Children's Minute on Sunday mornings because people are watching.

Today I made blackened salmon, baked pirogi, and stir-fry veggies for lunch. Bitsy wrapped herself around my legs and shouted, "Thank you make me vegetables! Me LOVE vegetables! Dem make me hop around like dis: Hop, hop, hop!" And later it was, "Thank you make me salmon! Me LOVE salmon! It give me strong muscles. Feel my muscles, Mom. Dem is big like God's!"

She's becoming more flamboyant, more outgoing, and more over the top every day. I told her she was turning into Fancy Nancy. She said, "Me not Fancy Nancy. Her tan't do splits like me." Then she jumped in the air and landed in a funny little leg sprawl she calls the splits.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, she is her mother after all.

This is happening way to fast.

I think I'm over my Kids Lit rant. I hope you all enjoyed it. I hope Beffie learns about fabulous new authors & can tell my children all about them.

Mark your calendars. Sunday is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. I think I'll set my Facebook language to Pirate in celebration. And watch Captain Jack all day long. And drink rum. And make my children walk the plank. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

Thursday is B.B.'s sixth birthday. Can you believe that? Six years old. Where did the time go? On Facebook this morning a friend of mine commented that while she wishes her girls were old enough to get themselves ready for school in the morning so she could sleep in a bit, she's not ready for them to grow up that much. I fully understand.

B.B. had a date with Miss Miranda this week. She's the speech therapist at school. She's been checking his speech for us since he was 3 1/2. B.B.'s vocabulary has always been good but he's not always been easy to understand. He has never tested in the range where he needed help, but she's still kept an eye on things for me. 2 weeks ago she told me he still was testing too high to truly qualify for help but he's struggling with certain sounds that have not changed since she first met him. That means she's running a full battery of tests to see if she can get him in to work with her a few times a week. B.B. does not pronounce his F, V, or Th sounds properly. He is capable of making the sounds but has been replacing them with the S sound for so long that he's not sure where they need to be.

Part of this makes me sad. I know, I know. He's having trouble with his speech & he needs help. I'm all for it. I truly am. I'm the one who pursued this line 2 1/2 years ago when Husband thought I should let it be. But the thought of him losing that last bit of "baby" in the way he talks means he's really growing up. It made me so sad when he started saying "Lemonade" instead of "Lemalade."

I'm not ready for B.B. to be six. Six is so much older than five. Six means things like school and t-ball and friends that are not Mom & baby sister. Six means running out the back door without stopping to hug mom good bye and playing in the woods by himself (OK, so he's been doing that since he was four). Six means my little man is really turning into a little man.

At least I still have Bitsy. She's still into Dora & cuddling with Mama on the couch...when her brother isn't around to take her on adventures.

New Furniture, Old Memories

I suddenly have a new living room. Daddy came by today with a 16 foot moving van filled with things Grandma & Grandpa M&M couldn't take to their new apartment. Some of the things found a new home here, others are going south to other members of my immediate family.

Husband started talking about a dining table a few months ago. Our living room is set up so that one half of it can hold a dining table. We have a table in the kitchen, so it's never been an imperative.

When I found out Grandma & Grandpa were downsizing I couldn't handle the thought of Grandma's dining table leaving the family. They bought it when they bought the house they lived in most of my life. They bought the house at auction when my dad was 6 years old. The table was already in it. They paid $17 dollars for it (the table, not the house). I told QM I'd really like to have it if that was an option. She talked to Grandma & Grandma was very happy with the idea.

We ate at that table every holiday, birthday, and family gathering we ever had. When my parents, aunts, and uncles were finished having their babies, there were 16 of us in total. Grandma's table held 16 people exactly. When Husband and I got married, Grandma joked that he had messed up her table count. We'd never had a kids' table.

Inkling and her brother and I used to camp out under it after dinner while our dads watched football or racing or baseball and our moms helped Grandma wash dishes (except when the Cubs played and then Grandma was watching baseball with the guys). My wedding dress was cut out on that table. So was Inkling's and her mother's and countless other dresses and rompers and outfits Grandma made for us.

Hours were spent eating, laughing, talking, playing, and visiting at that table. My siblings, cousins, and I grew up at that table.

It's now sitting in my living room like a tangible piece of my childhood.

I'm so very happy to have it. But there is a huge part of me that wishes it never needed to be moved in the first place.

It's bittersweet...but sweet none the less.

Sweatin' to the Samba

I went to the doctor today to see about having some moles my back and shoulder looked at. Totally awesome, I know! I have to go back on the 28th to have them taken off. Nothing scary, nothing truly suspicious, just a precaution. No worries.

But while there, I had to hop on the scales in the hallway. Much to my surprise, I'm tipping them at 112 1/2 pounds. Wow. I mean, really...for me...Wow! As Art would say (and only Art & a few select others are allowed to say such things), I'm looking normal. I would like a bit of control over where this weight is living, but so far, no one's asked me where to direct the half pint of Ben & Jerry's I just ate.

In related news, I added something cute, summery, and slightly bigger to my wardrobe today:

Look familiar? Yeah, it's the same as the one below, only in Waterfall as opposed to Hibiscus. The last one Wal-Mart had in a medium. And again, only three dollars. Yeah me...again.

In an effort to push my new curves into the places I want them, I'm very seriously considering taking a Zumba class starting next week. To be completely honest, I'm terrified. I'm horribly out of shape. I'm horribly uncoordinated (as Bella Swan would say, "I'm so clumsy, I'm practically disabled"). I'm worried that I won't make it through a class without giving up, passing out, or vomiting. But I'm willing to give it a shot. The fact that there's a class in the little town where the kids go to school, is a really big deal. The fact that it's only $5 a class is even cooler. Having never taken an exercise class of any kind, I'm going to pull up my big girl yoga pants and get to it.

And in the mean time I'm going to dance around my living room, like the white girl that I am, to the sounds of Glee. Oh, how I love Glee.......sigh.

Gifts & Gab

Friday, Husband & I went Christmas shopping for the three oldest FarmHands. I think from here on out, I may send him shopping for the boys & I'll handle the girls on my own. It will be much less stressful. Not that it was horrible, but I got to the point where I didn't care what he picked out, I just wanted to be done...and to take off the fabulous boots I was wearing. Note to self: Heels may be OK for a general trip to the store, but they are not OK for an extended trip like Christmas shopping.


Busha picked B.B. up from school that day so we wouldn't have to rush home. When we were on the way home with him, Husband & I started talking about the presents we got B.B. "Won't he just love that pretty ruffly dress we got him? I sure hope those sparkly red shoes fit B.B. I really think he'll be happy when he unwraps that baby doll you picked out for him." B.B. starts shouting, "NO!! I don't want a dress! You didn't get me red, sparkly shoes! I'm not a girl!" Husband looks at him, then at me & says, "You mean he's not a girl? Well, I'm not taking it all back now. He's just going to have to learn to like girl stuff!" B.B. informed us he was not a girl & we did not get him girl stuff for Christmas.

Bitsy keeps telling me she wants Tink panties & a Cinderella drink for Christmas. Since she really doesn't need anything, I plan on getting her just that. At 2 years old, juice drinks for Christmas will make her happy, and I'm all about making her happy. If Bitsy ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

She's become a rather opinionated little girl. Today her daddy told her she couldn't have big ice to chew on. She came running into me in the laundry room, chattering and having fits. All I got of it was Me, Da-da, and No. She was so mad, she could have spit nails. If you've never been given what for by a barely verbal toddler, you've never really been cursed out. It's hard not to laugh sometimes....and essential to discipline. She seems genuinely shocked when I tell her if Daddy said no, that means no & that she's not allowed to yell at me. I mean, doesn't this world revolve around her tiny self? No, wait, forget I said that. She's not little. She's Big! She tells me that on a daily basis, too....usually just after I've called her Baby.

Knowing when to fold 'em.

At last check, the Queen Mother was at the doctor's office having been just released from the hospital. She's still ill, but on the mend. I pray she mends quickly. Very quickly. She has grands who need her to feel good at Thanksgiving. She is Grammy, after all. She isn't allowed to lounge about. There are rousing games of Goldfish & Dominoes to play, books to read, blocks to build, baby dolls to love, and movies to watch.

Kork said something interesting in my comments a few posts back. "that sounds so much more fun than my weekend was...mine was "accomplishing lots of things" - which feels good when done, but in the doing always makes me feel like I've missed out on something more exciting...sigh..." I hadn't really thought of it that way, but it gave me a wonderful perspective for this weekend. We had another nice weekend weather-wise, so I spent a good portion of it out of doors with Husband & the FarmHands.

These opportunities aren't going to last long & I need to grasp them when I can. In a few years my babies will hit the "Oh, Muh-ther" stage of development where everything I say & do will cause mountains of embarrassment to be heaped upon their bony little adolescent shoulders. There will be dances & movies & friends & ballgames all much more important than Family Movie Night and a day spent traipsing through the woods with Mama & Daddy. They'll develop relationships apart from our little cloister & their interests will evolve. As one author put it, I know we're looking at the days of Get Out of My Life, But First Could You Drive Me & Cheryl to the Mall?

Until that time gets here, I plan on letting my house go. OK, not completely, but I do need to stop worrying over the state of my dishes when the sun is shining & my boys are shouting, "Mommy! There's a squirrel in the tree!! Come look at it! It's barking!" (and yes, my children speak in exclamations all day long). I need to remember that I can fold the towels after I tuck them in at night & spend their waking hours coloring Spider-Man pictures, playing Simon Says, and dancing around the house to Taylor Swift songs belted out by my daughter.

Someday I will be an empty-nester & my house can look like the cover of Better Homes & Gardens. Until then, I'll deal with slightly sticky kitchen floors & muddy footprints near the back door.

Babies, Babies everywhere, but not a diaper to change

Let's see, there's Mrs.X, Ordinary Sarah, and Kork....all are expecting. Then there's the Daring Young Mom who's currently lost in folds of baby Wanda fat rolls.

And then there's yours truly. I'm losing my baby to the world of Disney Princesses & potty training. Sunday morning, my friend Vic said something about Bitsy looking like a little girl more & more all the time. She's losing that baby look toddlers hold on to for a while. Her legs are getting longer, her belly less prominent, her toddling has turned to steady walking & running, her vocabulary is growing, and her need for Mama is shrinking.

Part of me is deep in mourning because my tiny baby is no longer a tiny baby. It wouldn't be as hard if I didn't know she was the last. The next little one I snuggle will be a niece, nephew, cousin, or friend, not my own (no, I'm not making announcements for my siblings here). Never again will I feel the gentle internal nudges that turn into full blown ninja kicks to my bladder. Never again will I lounge around in a hospital bed while kind nurses fuss over me & my newborn. No more tiny pink & blue onesies washed in Dreft. No more tightly swaddled squirming bundles to rock for hours.

But on the other hand, there are no more diapers to buy (yup, we've moved well into the world of the potty trained!! Yeah for us!!). No more pacifiers to lose in the couch cushions. No more nights pacing the floor with a gassy infant incapable of burping. No more packing extra clothing for both of us to take a day trip to Grandma's. No more tiny socks lost in the wash. No more struggling to bathe wet, soapy, slippery folds of fat that won't stay still. No more 3 AM feedings. No more teething, or diaper rash, or spit up.

We're moving on. After 8 years of babies, we're moving on to grade schoolers and pre-schoolers. From here we're only a short way from Tweens, teens, and angst. It's not truly better or worse, it's just different.

Just think, in 8 more years we could be driving a vehicle completely devoid of booster seats!

It (was) a nice day for a white wedding.

I know it's been a while, but I'm still recovering from the festivities.

Bubba & Beck are lounging on a beach in Florida. I've been up to my ears in laundry.

The rain broke about an hour before the wedding & the sun burst through the clouds giving us beautiful wedding weather just in time. A HUGE answer to a lot of prayers. Thank You, Lord!

Becky was beautiful in her dress & my brother looked like a grown up (not something easy for a big sister to accept) in his tux. The rest of us looked pretty good, too, if I must say. Especially the flower girl....she was a doll. But I'm not biased in her favor at all.

The wedding party walked in to Iris by the Goo-Goo Dolls & the bride walked in on her father's arm to a really unique version of the Wedding March. Bubba tried to talk her into using the march from Star Wars, but Beck wouldn't agree...the Wedding March she used was very similar, though. It was really cool!

When everyone turned to watch her come down the aisle on her daddy's arm, I turned to look at my baby brother instead. The look on his face was....I don't really have a word for it. The love, excitement, anxiousness, and awe were visible. He kept leaning towards the aisle like he was about to bolt down it to meet Beck & her dad half way; like they weren't walking fast enough for him. He couldn't wait for Beck to get to him.

Bucka preformed the ceremony. Bubba wanted our grandfather to marry them so badly, but we weren't sure Bucka would feel up to the task. The night before he announced this would be his last wedding; he can't handle it any longer. He married Husband & me nearly 12 years ago & Bubba wanted the same start for Beck & himself.

Very early on, Bucka got a bit tongue tied saying Bubba's name. He recovered quickly, but I think it threw him. Then he accidentally turned 2 pages in his wedding book instead of one & skipped straight to the exchange of rings. I've seen enough weddings preformed by my grandfather to know this was not how he did things. I immediately knew he'd skipped their vows, but hoped he'd right himself before it was all over.

After the exchange of rings, he started to close out the ceremony...I knew it was nearly over, so I glanced at QM & mouthed, "Should I?" She nodded emphatically & I slipped up the stage behind a candelabra to tell Bucka he'd skipped a part. Just as he turned to me he said, "Oh, yeah, I've gotten a little ahead of my self." He backtracked a bit & everything was taken care of. I know it upset Bucka quite a bit, but he handled it very well. More than once he had the entire congregation laughing out loud over it. My favorite thing was when he said, "They'll never forget their wedding!"

Bubba & Beck said the traditional vows and then shared ones they'd written themselves. I so wish I could put on here exactly what my brother said, but I wouldn't do it justice. He talked about how the phrase I love you now takes on an entirely new meaning to them as a couple. It's now a promise for forever....it was beautiful.

I do not cry at weddings. I may tear up a bit, but I don't really cry. I used to, but haven't in about 10 years. The look in my brother's eyes when I was walking down the aisle on the arm of one of his closest friends was enough to break down all my defenses. Princess & I cried through most of the ceremony...when we weren't laughing with Bucka & the couple.

After the reception (a simple affair with finger foods, cake, & punch) the entire family returned to QM & Daddy's to hang out in Deem's new Dradge House as HT calls the garage. There was enough food to feed a small army, enough laughter to drown out the cries of kids denied access to the hill of dirt behind us, and enough love to fill us all up for a long time to come.

Bubba & Beck stopped by to visit with the grandparents & aunts & uncles for a bit before heading out. Beck needed Princess to take off the fake nails Princess had put on her the night before. They were making her crazy. :)

Once most of the family retired for the night, QM offered to babysit my girls, HT, and Art's brood (my boys had already headed back to Illinois with their dad after the wedding) so we could sit & visit in the garage. Uncle Gick hung out with us & we sang & talked & laughed for a good long time....but of course it's never quite long enough.

Now I'm attempting to recover from a lot of running around, eating on the fly, and way to little sleep. All the laundry is washed & most of it's folded & put away. The luggage is stashed where it belongs & the massive amount of hand-me-downs Bitsy inherited this weekend has been sorted & put away.

I think I need a honeymoon.

The Circle of Life, Disney Princess Edition

When BabyGirl was turning seven, the Queen Mother gave her a Disney Princess birthday card that played "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes." QM said it made her a little sad because she was sure that would be the last birthday BabyGirl swooned over the Princesses. She was right.

In the past year the love of Cinderella and Aurora has been transferred to Hannah Montana & iCarly. Prince Charming can't hold a candle to Zach & Cody. She's stopped singing "Part of Your World" from The Little Mermaid & started singing "I Want Fabulous" from High School Musical 2. There was a brief time when both worlds held her interest, but that time is over. The Cinderella CD in her CD player has been replaced by Taylor Swift.

It makes me a little sad. It's fun to see her grow up & develop new interests, but it's difficult to think her next step will probably be towards make up & real boys.

With my boys being so close in age, their interests are pretty much the same. If #1 Son loves the Hulk, B.B. loves the Hulk. If B.B. is mad about Wolverine, #1 Son is mad about Wolverine. Some day that may change, but for now, I can buy 2 of everything & have 2 very happy little boys.

As if she knew Mama wasn't ready to let go of all things Bell & Jasmine, Bitsy has discovered the wonderful world of Disney Princesses. So far they're all Cinderella (I so wish I could play a clip of her saying Cinderella because it goes something like "Ludle-ludle" with a lot of tongue rolling). She doesn't care which Princess is shown, they're all the same in her eyes. They are each fabulous and worthy of love & adoration. Tonight BabyGirl bequeathed her big Cinderella doll & her Cinderella coin purse to her baby sister. Bitsy is thrilled to no end.

It's nice to see the Princesses come full circle. Too bad the Hulk & Iron Man won't share the same fate.

Bitsy on Gum & Bras

B.B. had his first piece of chewing gum about a month and a half ago. You'd have thought he'd won the lottery the way he was carrying on & telling everyone about his gum. He was so excited!

Bitsy immediately began demanding gum, too. I told her she had to wait until she was bigger remembering the time I called poison control because B.B. ate an entire pack of gum while I was in the bathroom. This conversation instigated another, on going conversation with Bitsy. It went something like this:

Bitsy- Dum, dum! (That's Bitsy for Gum)
Me- No, you're too little for gum, baby.
Bitsy- DUM! Me dum!
Me- You can have gum when you're big.
Bitsy- Me big, dum. Yeah.
Me- Yes. When you're big.

A few days after the first time (of many, many times) we had this conversation, she peed in her potty chair.

Me- Good job, Bitsy! You peed in the potty!! What a big girl you are!
Bitsy- Me big! Me dum!
Me- Um. Well.

Eventually I decided that with plenty of supervision, she could have a little piece of gum. I tore about 1/4 of a stick of gum off and gave it to her with a strict warning not to swallow it. She did surprisingly well for a 2 year old & has been chewing gum like a little pro ever since. A few pieces have been swallowed; a few have dropped out on the floor; a few have been strung out all over her in the van, but the vast majority of it has been well chewed then tossed in the trash.

Last week she developed an interest in my bras. I was folding laundry when she absconded with one. I chased her down & rescued my unmentionable much to her chagrin. She began screaming & crying, "Me bra! Me bra!" I said, "No, this is Mama's bra. They aren't for little girls," and I promptly forgot about it.

Monday night, after I put the 3 older FarmHands in bed, Bitsy & I were sitting in the living room watching TV. The shoulder strap of my tank top slipped to the side & she caught a glimpse of my bra strap. "Oh!! Mama bra! Mama bra!" she squealed while trying to yank my neck line down so she could get a better look.

I pulled her hand off my shirt & said, "Yes, that's Mama's bra. You let it be."
"Me bra! Me bra!"
"No. Mama's bra. You're too little. Bras are for big girls."
She considered this for a moment then announced, "Me big! Me dum! Me bra!" I tried to tell her that just because she's big enough to chew gum, that doesn't make her big enough to wear a bra, but she strongly disagrees.

Today in Wal-Mart we walked past the lingerie department & her big blue eyes lit up. "BRAS!! BRAS!!"

I am so not ready for this.

Sing out loud, sing out strong

Every Sunday morning. between Sunday School & Worship Service, Husband's Aunt CB brings all the kids in the congregation (all but B.B. who flat refuses to join in) to the front of the sanctuary for Children's Minute. She gives a short object lesson & then they all get up & sing a song.

Two weeks ago she sang I'm In Right. For those of you not raised in Christian Church/Church of Christ Sunday School, it goes:
I'm in right, out right, up right, down right happy all the time.
I'm in right, out right, up right, down right happy all the time.
Since Jesus Christ came in & cleansed my heart from sin,
I'm in right, out right, up right, down right happy all the time.

My kids stood there looking shocked & slightly embarrassed (at the sight of Larry in a towel...OK, never mind) as they didn't know the song at all. I had forgotten that song entirely. Hadn't thought of it in years. I love that song. I've been singing it ever since.

It made me wonder what other songs from my childhood I was forgetting & had never sung to my children. My favorite Sunday School Song was always Do, Lord.

Do, Lord, oh do, Lord, oh do remember me.
Do, Lord, oh do, Lord, oh do remember me.
Do, Lord, oh do, Lord, oh do remember me,
way beyond the blue.

I've got a home in glory land that outshines the sun!
I've got a home in glory land that outshines the sun!
I've got a home in glory land that outshines the sun,
way beyond the blue!

I took Jesus as my Savior, you take him, too.
I took Jesus as my Savior, you take him, too.
I took Jesus as my Savior, won't you take him, too
way beyond the blue?

Tonight the FarmHands heard me sing quite a few of the songs I learned when I was their age. I Am a C, Roll Away, Jesus Loves the Little Children...they know every word of Amazing Grace, Count Your Blessings, & It Is Well With My Soul, but not Give Me Oil In My Lamp or Father Abraham (but then maybe them not knowing Father Abraham is a good thing).

What were your favorites when you were small? What do you sing to your kids now? What songs have you nearly forgotten from your child hood? Leave me a comment or write your own post & let me know!

I really need to teach them Pharao, Pharao. That is a must!