My big, big, big girl....

Shipping my baby girl off to Hermit Island this week, up in Maine.  Not my baby baby, but my eight year old little love bug, my Miss Miz (short for Misery - Jessie was a toddler who really embraced her emotions).  I'm sending her off with my sister, who I love and trust more than anything.  And of course, my mother, my cousins, my aunts, etc... so she'll be surrounded by family and I know she'll be fine, but I'm still a little panic stricken at the thought of her being gone for an entire week.

But I am looking forward to being done getting ready for Hermit Island.  Jess is a girl who loves being prepared, and has a deep and personal attachment to many, many of her stuffed animals, and between packing her clothes, and repacking them after Julianna has unpacked (seriously - this kid adores throwing clothes all over the place) and figuring out which stuffed animal(s) should make the trip... it's been a two day effort and she's not leaving until Saturday.  I've now got all of her stuff in one laundry basket and am seriously considering just sending that up instead of a bunch of little bags.

House is still in shambles.  You'd think I'd either get used to it, or get a lot better at either forcing the kids to pick up or start picking up more often.  But nope, I just sort of do all three, I try to make them clean up after themselves, try to pick it all up myself at least twice a day, and mostly, I try to just resign myself to it.  Both Jess and Sam love to create these worlds with figurines, and while Jessie has mostly outgrown it, Sam is really just starting to get into it.  Sam is even willing to put up with Julianna crawling in the middle of it, mostly.  Jessie used to hate having Baby Sam in her stuff, and she'd happily set up in her room, but Sam doesn't like playing alone in his room, so I'm constantly dealing with army men and trucks and monster figures scattered willy-nilly thru my house.

Julianna is still struggling with nighttime issues.  She's okay once she's down, for the most part, but getting her to sleep at night is now taking hours.  Literally.  I'm distinctly ill amused - and vetoed Marc attending a committee meeting tonight at the synagogue so he can handle her.  I need a break :-)  Bedtime used to be his special time with Sam when Sam was about this age, so perhaps that's just the transition that we need to make.  As it turns out, I've started reading Harry Potter to Sam at night before bed, so this might work out perfectly :-)

Sleep issues

There aren't that many actual parenting rules that I live by - I think I'm pretty flexible about most things, but one thing I know for certain - it's never a good idea to get used to anything your child does, because as soon as you do, they'll switch it all up.  Case in point, my tiny little Esmerelda baby.  She used to be the easiest child to put to bed.  She'd even gratefully agree that it was bedtime and snuggle up next to me while I nursed her and watched Grey's Anatomy repeats.  It was lovely... but now - now, it's a whole different story.  She fights it, climbs all over the place and fusses.  I have to keep laying her down until she eventually gives up and just drifts off.  She's developed an attachment to receiving blankets (after three kids, I have a ridiculous number of them) and likes to have many, many of them draped around her.  She's got one in particular that she loves, with little fat fairies all over it.

She just woke up from her nap, she slept for almost three hours and is so cute.  She's munching on some hot dogs and water, I tried to give her tuna fish and she was horrified.  Sam is outside playing with Glennys in the pool and eating popsicles and Jessie is out to the movies and chinese food with Marc's mother.

All in all, a pretty perfect kind of summer day ;-)

Empathy - or why I need to work harder at not picking up other people's problems

There was a thing (that's not all that relevant, exactly, to this post) this morning and I found out about it.  It was a bad thing, or probably is, at the very least, something happened to make some people I care about pretty unhappy.  (I apologize for the cryptic nature of this, but it's not really my story, so I'm reluctant to share details).  My point was that I found out about it first thing this morning (one of those instances where facebook is NOT your friend), and it just set my whole day off.  I'm grumpy and unpleasant - and I need to STOP.  Because the facts are that I'm fine.  My marriage is whole and healthy, my kids are happy, whole and healthy.  I need to figure out how to feel badly for other people and not have it impact every thing about my day.  Because not only am I stressed out and unhappy, but that old adage that when Mommy's not happy, nobody is happy could have been written about me and my kids.  Jessie is cranky and fussy, Sam has thrown himself into two different screaming fits and Julianna... well,she's sunshiny delightful, thank goodness.   There's little that seems to throw that one off.

Anyway...

Sam has been a bit challenging as of late.  I'm slightly scared that it's just that he's almost five, and maybe there's a thing where my kids go off the rails a little bit between five and eight.  When Jess turned eight, she had a real personality change, and suddenly got so much calmer and relaxed and happy.  Sam has always been my stable, simple easy child, and it occurred to me that maybe it's just that I'm not great with kids at this age.  Infants, babies, toddlers, even preschoolers are fun for me, and I have to say, eight so far is really fun, but five, six, and seven?  Those were not my favorite years.  I'm a believer in self fulfilling prophecies, so I'm trying not to think too much about it, but really hoping that it's just an off day or two.

Probably it is.  Because it's more that both Jess and Sam have been spiraling into temper tantrums lately - I'm going to blame summer.  We decided to keep Jess home from summer camp this year, and while it's wonderful - it does also mean that there's not a lot of structure to our days anymore.  Julianna's nap schedule is all off too.  I need to figure out a routine and start sticking to it - or I'm going to lose my mind.

Happiness is a $10 pool from Walmart

As we were filling it up with air (it's a 3 ring pool) and all the kids (Jessica, Sam, Glennys, Julianna, and our neighbor Caroline) were all clustered around, clutching onto the sides, (I had told them they had to hold it - mainly to keep them occupied, they were so happy they were vibrating with joy), Caroline said "I love the Cohens."  I don't know if she was talking to us, or if she was just making a general statement to the universe - but either way, I was happy to hear it :-).  Even happier to hear the shrieks and giggles and laughter coming from the backyard.  Because if you can buy happiness for $10, you should.  Every chance you get.

One year old deliciousness

Julianna is so cute these days.   I don't mean to say that she wasn't cute before, or that she won't continue in this cuteness pattern.  Or to insinuate that my other two cherubs are equally adorable, because they are.  But Julianna is still so recently verbal - and she's still at that glorious point where she can really only agree with us, so she seems to be an uncommonly agreeable child.

She was outside yesterday, late afternoon, and playing with the big kids.  Jessie discovered that you can take wet sidewalk chalk and use it as a serious paint, and since we had Glennys and Caroline over, it was a painting extravaganza out there.  Everyone had fun, but Julie got disgustingly gross, and by the time Glennys carried her into me, she was coated in thick blue ooze and there was no choice but to toss her into the shower.  I'd have given her a bath, but she's still pretty freaked out about it, so the best choice is just to get naked along with her and hold her screaming, writhing body in the shower.  After we got all cleaned up, I got her out, and put her in a diaper and t-shirt and laid her down for a nap.

I was happily assuming that'd she'd nap for 45 minutes, maybe an hour.  Julianna is an uncommonly regimented sort of kid, she put herself on a schedule very early on.  For the most part, she naps for about three hours between 10:30 and 2:00, roughly, and then goes down for the night around 7:30 or 8:00.  But occasionally, she'll get up earlier from the first nap and require a restorative little cat nap somewhere around six or so, and then go down closer to nine or nine thirty.  But with the nice weather, and the sun being up so much later, plus it's Sunday and there's no real schedule at all, I didn't realize how late it was.  She actually went down to sleep around quarter of seven and slept like a rock until close to ten.

Then she was AWAKE and just delighted with herself.  She had missed dinner entirely, and was so clearly awake, I couldn't make her go back to sleep.  So I got her up and she, Marc and I just hung out.  She had dinner with Marc and we watched Loony Toones and built with her blocks.  She's so adorable and so perfectly happy.  But it was after midnight before she finally wound herself back down, and I'm exhausted this morning.

The apple doesn't fall far....

Sam has spent all morning, literally all morning, playing with his army guys.  He sets them up, he knocks them all down, packs them all up into vehicles and travels into another room, sets them all up, knocks them down...  It's fascinating, because at this age, Jessica's very favorite thing in the whole wide world was playing with her princess figurines.  She had the whole compliment of Disney figures and would do the exact same thing.  Only princess-ish, instead of WWII-ish.

It made me think, because really, they are so similar.  And even though it's a gorgeous day outside, neither one has any desire to be outside playing.  They like the fresh air, and they aren't averse to activity, but are both perfectly happy, inside, puttering, reading, playing.  The television isn't on (because while I won't force them outside most of the time, I won't let them watch tv during the day), so I don't mind that they're inside.  Which reminds me of me at their age - my mother was forever throwing us outside to play, and I hated it.  I'd sit somewhere under a tree and read... and it's somehow surprising to me to realize that I have produced children who are not only just like each other, but also who are startlingly similar to myself at that age...

I've got three kids

Not two kids and a baby - but three actual kids.  Julianna has passed that indefinable milestone, where she's not a baby anymore.  She's still a toddler, but more than that, she's a kid.  It's not that she's walking, because she isn't.  It's not that she's talking, because she's still not really doing that either.  It's that, more often than not, she's able to be grouped in with the other two.  I feed them all together, they play together, she's one of them now.  Even now, all three kids are busy in the living room.  Jessie is eating her cereal (on the couch, which she shouldn't be doing) and commenting periodically on it.  Sam is puttering with his new army guys (God bless Savers, because I bought them for a dollar yesterday) and Jules is crawling around, playing with the remote (she flicked off the television earlier) and is very content.

It used to be that she always required attention.  She was either sleeping or in my arms, or I was carefully supervising her in someone else's arms.  But now... she's on her own, more and more.  She's a big girl, she's got opinions and wants and has no problem communicating her needs.

It's an odd feeling, when suddenly you realize that your baby isn't a baby anymore....

Chess and my Grandpa

I was my grandfather's favorite grandchild.  (Which, incidentally, is one of the reasons that I don't get bogged down in worrying about whether or not my children's grandparents have a favorite - I think it's perfectly normal and wonderful - Jessie is, hands down, my MIL's favorite and I think that it's sweet and lovely for both of them.  They love all the kids, but Jess loves them more and they spend more time with her).  One of the things that my grandfather always, always did with me was play chess.  He had two gorgeous chess sets, one of them was engraved with his name on one side and mine on the other.  I didn't get that set (long sad story) when he passed away, but I do have the other wooden set.

Sam LOVES playing chess with me.  He's not yet five, and obviously far too young to be doing it on his own, but he really, really enjoys it.  We play every day when Julianna goes down for her nap, and thus far, I really play for both of us and let him win, but he's learning, faster than I would have anticipated.

Every time I set up the chess set, I think of Grandpa and miss him a little more.  I'm so grateful for my relationship with him - and wish that Samuel Earl could have had that kind of bond with him.

Spiritual Paths

I'm.... not easy to classify when it comes to spiritual belief.  Which I'm actually pretty happy about, I think that it's better to have your own personal belief system as opposed to blindly following someone else's.  My mother was Catholic when I was born, and I was a practicing Catholic until probably right around the time when my eleven year old cousin was diagnosed with liver cancer.  After that, I sort of drifted thru goddess worship, straight up Wicca, a little paganism, I explored tarot and have had more than my share of psychic readings.  I looked into Reiki, Axiotonal healing and am fluent in lots of alternative health treatments.  I was pretty convinced that I knew what was going on in the universe, was very clear on how I thought everything worked... and then had the rug pulled out from under me when I miscarried my twins.

It was a very unplanned pregnancy, but one that was so incredibly wanted.  And the loss at ten and eleven weeks of both babies was devastating to me.  I literally became a different person.  I no longer knew that the universe was a benovolent place, I was no longer even a little bit sure that everything happened for a reason.  I felt lost and alone and more scared than I had ever been.

It was then that I got pregnant with Jessica, and started to build a life with an observant Jewish man.  Judaism isn't a stretch for me, theologically.  It's based on the premise that there is one G-d, neither male nor female.  That humanity and G-d are in a partnership, and it's our obligation to make the world a better place.  That Jews are commanded to perform mitzvahs (which truly doesn't have an English translations - because it's more than just good deeds, it's more than charity, it's more than lovingkindness - the best translation I can come up with is that it's actions (not thoughts, but actual actions) that make the world a better place).  Jews are commanded to appreciate and value the world around us, there's literally a blessing to be said for just about everything you do during the day.  It's a very joyous, loving faith, but also one that demands a certain level of commitment from believers.  I don't get to just sit back and let the world swirl around me, as a Jewish woman, my obligation is to make it a better place.

But I'm finding, that almost ten years after the miscarriage, eight years after becoming a mother, and three years after formally converting to Judaism, that's there's still this element of spiritual questioning that I have.  I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was the right decision to convert to Judaism, Jewish theology is so closely aligned with my own personal belief systems, and I believe profoundly in giving my children a strong spiritual base from which to explore their own beliefs.  Jewish culture, or at least Conservative Jewish culture, is still confusing to me.  I feel like an outsider at the synagogue.  While everyone there is very nice and kind, and my children are beloved there, I still feel.... a little outside of it all.

Maybe this is just a function of me.  Maybe that's a part of my personality and anytime there's a big group thing I tend to feel a little removed.  Maybe it's worth exploring other synagogues in the area, see if I can find one that's a little more... welcoming, respectful of all paths.  Maybe I need to re-start my own spiritual quest, find my own answers.  I don't know.  I find, as my children get older, I feel a need to instill some part of my own traditions in their lives.  To show them what they've got from my side of the family - it's not just Judaism, it's Judaism and this whole other world where their grandmother can divert storms and arrange for parking spots at the mall.

I don't have any of the answers anymore.  I don't know anything for sure.  But I know that there's a whole universe out there... and trying to understand it, trying to find our own higher purpose, is an eminently worthy goal.

One of the little known perks

of having a big family is watching them learn to take care of each other.  It's not just that kids from bigger families are more independent because they have to do more for themselves (although I think that's an element), they're also much more likely (based on my extensive experience of both growing up in and raising a family of many children) to take care of each other.  I'm listening to Sam chatter away to Julie about how she's a little kid and needs little bites, and he's a big kid who takes bigger bites.  He's correcting himself as he helps her eat her lunch - because my girl really only likes to eat when Marc is here, but is reluctantly agreeing to eat a little bit with her big brother.

odd...

I just realized that Father's Day came and went and I didn't think about my father once.  I thought a lot about my husband and wanting to make sure he had a good day.  I was grateful for my stepdad and my father in law, and happy that I got to see and spend time with both of them.  But my actual father?  I didn't think of him once.  Now I feel guilty and aggravated that I can still feel guilty about not remembering a man on Father's Day when he spent 20 plus years doing his level best to pretend that he wasn't a father.

In other news... my kids and my husband and I had an absolutely fantabulous sort of day.  I'm just a tiny bit jealous of my kids - because I don't have a great track record with this holiday, and my kids are going to grow up very differently...

Why Marc really, really deserves Father's Day

(another non inclusive list in no real order....)
1.  He flat out adores his children.  Really, really.  We had an extremely unplanned pregnancy very soon after we got together (and an even more unplanned miscarriage) and from the very beginning, he was thrilled about having more kids.  Devastated after the miscarriage and just as focused on trying again as soon as we could.  He'd have more kids in a heartbeat, and is the main reason why Julianna probably isn't going to be the youngest :-).  I've never seen a man who genuinely loves fatherhood as much as he does.
2.  He doesn't reserve it for just his kids.  I can name several kids in the New England area who have blossomed under his love and attention.  He's taken in kids that don't have the paternal attention and made them feel safe and loved and valued.  He's warm, loving, and truly happiest when there's a whole bunch of little kids running around him.
3.  He's never, ever, not once, ever complained about the mess left by the hordes of children playing here.
4.  He's the best husband I've ever seen.  Objectively - :-) speaking, he's just freaking awesome.  Loves me to bits, makes me feel beautiful and adored and valued.  He shows his daughters how they should be loved and his son how to treat a woman every day by his example.
5.  He's a really, really good son.  No matter what, he loves his parents and does his best to honor them.
6.  He's willing to change and learn.  He's changed a lot, in the almost ten years we've been together, and is always willing to try something new or different.  He pays attention to what works, works to find solutions to problems that aren't easily solvable.
7.  He creates traditions that have meaning and are fun.  My kids will grow up with great memories of Fight on the Bed, singing in the car, watching Christmas specials, lighting Shabbat candles and blessing the first blossom in the spring.
8.  He's still the King of Dealing with Puke.  Absolute undisputed king.

I'm forever grateful that my children have a father like Marc.  I think it balances out, and I've got a knee jerk kind of belief in karma.  I didn't have a father growing up, and while I wouldn't trade my childhood for anything, because everything that happened got me here, and I really, really love my life - I think the fact that my children have a father like Marc, having them know, every single second, that they are loved and safe and adored is absolutely wonderful, and I appreciate having him so much more.  My kids have the best father in the world.  I can't imagine doing this without him, and my only prayer, every night, is just for more of this life we've built together.

Author's Tea

Jessica had her Author's Tea yesterday - which is where all the little second graders invite their parents in for cake and cookies and they all read a selection from their "White Book."  Which is a staggeringly obvious name of the book that they write in all year long.  They wrote a little autobiography, dedicated the book to someone they loved, and wrote throughout the year on a variety of topics.  Her autobiography is:

Hi, my name is Jessica Cohen.  My nickname is Jessie Bug Noodle.  I am 8 years old.  I was born on February 7, 2003. I have two older sisters, Lilli and Sarah.  My younger sister's name is Julianna and I can't forget my younger brother Sam.  My parents names are Melissa and Marc.

I like to read fantasy books but sometimes I like to read biographies.  I take dance lessons at Charlotte Klein Dance Studio.  I also like writing stories.

When I grow up, I want to teach preschool.  While the children are napping, I will write stories to read to them at story time.  My favorite color is purple.  Reading and writing are my favorite school subjects.  My favorite book is Butterflies in my Stomach.

Stepmotherhood = Invisibility??

It's odd - because it's just an undefined role.  Not a parent, not really.  But not nothing either.  I spent a LOT of time with my stepchildren, for a very long time, and yesterday, at the the bat mitzvah, it was clear that in the overall scheme of things, my presence was utterly unnecessary.  I did hold my sleeping one year old daughter thru most of it, and I was a nice pair of legs for my four year old to cling to.  I also took my eight year old into the ladies room and let her sob out her frustration when she melted down (sleepover the night before - perhaps not my wisest move).  But other than that, other than being there as the mother of the bat mitzvah'ed girl's siblings, I was essentially ... invisible.

I'm sort of struggling with that, I mean, obviously, the day isn't about me.  And to be blunt, I'm NOT her mother.  I didn't carry her for nine months, I didn't walk the halls with her while she cried as an infant, or see her off for her first day at school.  I didn't kiss her after vaccinations or set up playdates.  I know this - and I've always been very clear on not wanting to replace or supplant her actual, involved, loving mother.  But I have taught her how to braid challah, and how to make matzoh balls, how to change a diaper, how to soothe a crying baby and answered her questions about sex and relationships.  I help her dad to be a better parent, I encourage her relationship with her grandparents.  I'm not nothing.

You know I'm going to face this challenge again and again.  At the next bat mitzvah, at the graduations, at the weddings and with the grandchildren.  It's normal, understandable, even.  I'm not the mother, after all.

But it's hard to accept that there's no middle ground.  There's no place for me, not really.  I'm the mother of siblings in their lives, I guess, and that's more than enough.  Or it should be.  I like my kids, and I'm satisfied with my role as their mom - I don't need to be recognized as my stepchildren's mother.  I'm not.  But still... it feels like I was ignored and left out, and I still feel a little hurt.

Julianna outgrew her bath ring

It's so fast... I had stopped latching her into the seat a couple of months ago, but she still sat in the seat, and today - she actually pulled her little self up and stood up in the tub.

Where did my tiny baby go?  Suddenly I've got a toddler.  She's not walking yet, so I can kind of pretend that she's still a baby - but the reality is that she's not a baby.  She's a big girl.  And I'm mostly delighted, because she's seriously awesome, but a tiny bit wistful...

Top ten things I adore about Julianna Ruth

(no order and far from all that I love about her....)

1.  She can nod yes and sign no - and instead of shaking her head no, the way most toddlers do, she waves her hand in front of her face, as if she's saying "Oh, no, no, I couldn't possibly...."
2.  She enthusiastically agrees with me when I carry her back to bed, if I ask if she's read to nurse and go to bed.
3.  She stops sometimes, mid nurse, to grin up at me and wrinkle her nose.
4.  She's also developed a little sign language way of telling me when she wants Marc.  She points at the palm of her hands, because that's where Marc has his blisters from working out.
5.  Her eyes are not green, not grey and not brown.  But a beautiful combination of all three, coupled with gorgeous brown curls and a perfect little face.
6.  She loves people - loves being in the middle of everything, and is happy to go with anyone, as long as they swoop in and scoop her away from me.  If she's distracted, she's fine.  But if she can see me or Marc, forget it, she wants just to be with us.
7.  She wakes up every morning delighted by everyone.
8.  I held her thru every single one of her naps, until she was about ten months old.  Then she, all of a sudden, started napping on her own, and now sleeps for hours on her own.  She's a walking (okay, crawling still) endorsement of attachment parenting.
9.  She's got a "happy bounce."  You can tell how enthusiastic she is about anything by the level of the bounce.  A bounce coupled with waving arms means that she's ecstatic.  She bounces a lot :-)
10.  She's just starting to talk.  And pull herself up more and more.  She's on the cusp of everything, and I can't wait to see what she'll do.

Top ten things I adore about Samuel Earl

(again - no particular order, and I could easily have come up with a whole bunch more)

1.  He can play for hours, by himself, with a bunch of blocks and little army/firefighter figurines.
2.  He adores his daddy, and really, really wants to be just like him.
3.  He makes his baby sister light up whenever he walks into the room.
4.  He's my lovebug boy - and starts every morning with at least five minutes on my lap, giving me "Sammy Love."
5.  He loves trees.  A newly cut down tree is enough to bring him to tears, and he's honestly concerned about the trees when the weather isn't good.  He's my little druid.
6.  He idolizes any guy in a savior role - policeman, fireman, soldier, etc.  If it's a guy, doing something to save or protect others, that's what he wants to be.
7.  He really, really loves Jessie's best friend Glennys.  It's just a sweet, pure kind of love, he just flat out adores her.   I know he's only four, but holy moly - if he still feels that way in twenty years, Glennys is going to be luckiest woman in the world....
8.  He is by far my easiest child when it comes to sleep. He just goes to sleep when he's tired and wakes up when he's ready.  There's no stress involved, he just does what his body wants and my main job is just to let it happen.  He never fights sleep, he never wakes up too early.  If he's tired, he sleeps until he's done.
9.  He is unabashedly antisocial.  He flat out doesn't like people in general.  In specific, there are people he likes a lot, but big groups?  Forget it, he hates it.  And as much as it's challenging at times to deal with, I have to admire his honesty and conviction.
10.  He's so incredibly sweet and loving.  Earlier today, he told me that I was the most beautiful Mommy ever.  Out of nowhere, and believe me, today is not one of those days when I'm pretty.  My newly short hair is half caught up in a ponytail, I was wearing Marc's old Patriots shirt and still had on yesterday's mascara.  But in his eyes, I was beautiful.

Top ten things I adore about Jessica Mary

(disclaimer - these are in no particular order, and I could easily come up with a million more...)

1 - She's incredibly emotive.  You name it, she feels it 150%. She's all heart, my girl, and I hope with all my heart that she is always going to be this softhearted.
2 - She's unthinkingly maternal.  She doesn't think about whether or not she should pick up a crying baby, she just does it.  She knows without ever being told how to soothe and comfort her siblings and does it automatically.
3 - She's got this completely off beat fashion sense.  She's far from obsessed with her appearance, but has this inimitable style that's uniquely her own.
4 - She loves to read, and is always in the middle of at least two or three books.
5 - She hugs all of our relatives at parties.  She hugs everyone when we get there, and hugs them all goodbye when we leave.  I don't have to tell her to do it, she just knows they want her to do it, and does it every.single.time.
6 - She's intensely spiritual.  She really, really thinks about God and the universe, and does her very best to learn all that she can.  But there's a level of spiritual awareness that you have that's beyond what you can be taught, and my daughter is stuffed full of it.
7.  She frequently uses Hebrew in casual conversation.  It's confusing, as I don't speak it at all, but I love that she really enjoys learning and using the skill.
8.  She's heartbreakingly beautiful, with big chocolate brown eyes, the most perfect nose and a rosebud mouth, gorgeous skin and the prettiest hair I've ever seen.
9.  She'd rather listen to the soundtrack to the Sound of Music than the soundtrack to Camp Rock.
10.  She still crawls up into my lap, and fits as perfectly there as she did when she was a seven pound infant.

I don't like being home alone

There, I've said it.  I really don't.

Marc's out tonight, delivering pictures over to Charlotte Cohen's house (long story).  And all three kids are asleep, and I'm taking advantage of the time and cleaning my little heart out.  I decided to spring clean out the kids' playroom downstairs, and have gleefully filled two big bags full of broken toys, lost puzzle pieces, etc, and created an even bigger pile of toys that Marc will crunch down and make smaller to fit into still more trash bags.  But there are odd noises, and even though I know intellectually that I'm fine, I'm still totally freaked out.

It doesn't help that Sam's green light saber keeps randomly going off.  He left it out in the rain (actually Kolbe did, and we found it today) and I thought it was broken when Sam brought it over crying because it wouldn't make noise or light up anymore.  But no, it was just wet, and has apparently, over the course of the day, dried itself out.  Only now - it just keeps going off.  It crackles and sometimes lights up, and keeps making that ominous "I'm going to kill you" noise.  I've tried shutting it off, but it keeps magically turning itself back on.  Either that, or it's possessed by a ghost.  I mean, it's probably just that the wiring is all weird because it was out in the torrential downpours yesterday - but that explanation begins to wear thin when it's just me.  Alone.  With a light saber that keeps going off.

Busy, busy, busy

Just all the time.  I don't know if it's a function of having Arie and the kids staying with us temporarily (although if it was, it hasn't decreased the activity level now that they are gone) or if it's just part and parcel of having a large family with young children.  I feel like Marc and I are always about three steps behind where we should be, and constantly striving to catch up.

Of course, blogging does not help me get stuff done.  I know that.

All is calm and delightful in my world today - Harrison and Jordyn and Sam are outside playing happily, racing around the backyard playing some sort of game that doesn't make a lot of sense to me, but they all seem engaged and happy.  Julianna is sitting on the living room, having found her bag of alphabet blocks and is very busily picking one up, examining it, putting it down and picking up a different one.  She's so cute, all brown curls and oddly enough, greenish eyes.  I've got dark brown eyes, and somehow just assumed that all of my kids would get them.  Marc's got lighter, hazel-ish eyes, but definitely more brown than green, and Sam's eyes are grey and Julie's are some sort of indiscrimate color that defies categorization.  It's not grey, it's not brown, it's not really green either.