Strider

Wombles has introduced me to his dog several times, so I thought I'd introduce him to YOU.

You wouldn't want to be missing out, would you?

As Wombles says (repeatedly): "This is Strider. He's a terrorist dog. He bites the heads off of gophers in ONE BITE, and it kills them. And he drinks hot milk for breakfast."

Doesn't he look fierce?

I would like to point out that when he says terrorist, what he means is terrier. And terriers DO hunt rodents...like gophers.

And Strider was the name of a neighborhood dog. Strider recently left our lives (this life, to be more precise). So the name lives on in Wombles' sweet, gopher-ripping terrorist.

Nutmeg snoozin'

It's not always easy being the little sister, but at times it's not too bad.

Cleaning and Scrubbing

Recently, on a Saturday evening, I nursed Nutmeg.

And then I snuggled her.

And then I fell asleep.

And then J took a picture.


When I was little, my mom did a cross stitch pattern that had the following on it. It hung in our house (four children!) while I was growing up.

It read:

Cleaning and Scrubbing can Wait 'til tomorrow
For babies grow up, as we've learned to our sorrow
So quiet down cobwebs
Dust go to sleep
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

A short time before Nutmeg was born, Mom passed the sampler on to me. It's in my room.

Thanks, Mom!!

I am the Paparazzi

Last month, the boys ran away.

Let me back up.

I changed Nutmeg's diaper and walked out of that room into the main part of the house...no boys anywhere. Meaning, no my two boys and no Santiago, Wombles' best friend. I walked straight to the front door and there was Santiago.

"Is it OK if I have a Yo-yo?"

"What? Do you know where Wombles and Bud are?"

"Yeah, they're up there (pointing up the hill from our house). Can I have a Yo-yo?"

"...Do you mean a Joe-Joe?" (I'm walking past him now).

"Yeah! a Joe-Joe!"

"Do Bud and Wombles have Joe-Joe's?"

"Yeah!"


By this time, I had a clear shot of the two boys, high-tailing it up the street from our house. RUNNING.

I called. They ran back.

Bud got back first. I stopped him at the door and made him open his mouth. Yep, Chocolate in the teeth. OFF TO YOUR ROOM!


Wombles was slower, but there was no need to do a molar inspection:




My funnybone was tickled, so I wanted to take a picture. But here's what immediately followed the above shot:




Wait a minute, who's in the wrong here? Is it me? Is taking a mugshot a crime? He's crying because I have the camera!

"No pictures! NO PICTURES!!"

*Later, when I discussed their crimes (thieving cookies out of the pantry; hiding them under the sofa; eating them; not sharing with Santiago­­­­­­­­­; running away; etc) with each of the boys, I asked them each the question:

WHY did you run away?

Bud: Well, I had told you and Dad I was going to run away. I was going to look for different parents...I just don't think you and Dad are good for me."

Wombles: "We didn't want you to know what we were doing."

"L" Says Rooaaarrr!

The other day I went in to hang with Wombles. He is extremely good at entertaining himself, which is a blessing; if I'm not careful, though, it means he can spend all day without a lot of interaction because he's just doing his own thing.

I really am grateful that he's good at making up his own games, and that he has an extended attention span. It's fabulous.

Anyway, I found him at play with the alphabet puzzle. He pointed to a letter and asked me what it was. Great! We can hang out, and work on his letters, and we can both feel really gratified! I'll be a GOOD mom!


That's a "V", Wombles. "V" says "v-v-v for violin."

I thought we were doing great. He was having fun. I was convinced he was going to be reading in about two weeks.

Then I started throwing it back to him: "Do you know what 'L' says?"

"Yeah!! 'L' says ROOOAAAAAARRR because it starts with LION!!"

Huh?

Turns out when he was asking what the Queen said, he wasn't just cute and mixing up the order. He didn't want to know what "Q" says. He wanted to know what the Queen actually said.

Ditto the monkey. "Mmm" wasn't cutting it. I was supposed to make the monkey noise.

So, I won't get him his library card yet...but we had a lot of fun!

Brotherly Love

Bud loves Nutmeg.

Loves. Her.


A smile from his baby sister sends him over the rainbow, and much high-pitched babytalk commences.

J and I have recently been discussing similarities between Bud and Nutmeg, and between Pixie and Wombles, respectively.

Each pair shares certain physical characteristics--say, mouth-and-nose.

One pair is all-out drama. I'll let you guess.

One pair has a person with a force of personality that reaches out farther than a hoopskirt would, seeming to knock things (and sometimes people) over just by being.

We're wondering where Nutmeg will fall in all of this.

We then also noted how the birth order of our children matches the one in my own family of origin. Might we glean any ideas of Nutmeg's future by looking at Cupcake?

Two words: "Look Out."

(PS: Hi, Cham!)

I love my baby sister,
H

Happy 100th

So, this year marks the 100th anniversary of President Reagan's Birth.

You probably know that...stamps, and so on.

I am trying to give a little context for this sight, seen running around after our time of worship at church about three weeks ago:



Our Bud is hiding under there. It was a little spooky, and I just thought I'd share.

Happy...Sunday...

H

Month 3 Onesie Comparison

So, here are the photo selections for Nutmeg, Wombles and Bud at the 3-month mark, along with brief comments comparing and contrasting:


Wombles and Nutmeg: I'm pretty sure they are wearing the exact same onesie in these two photos. Also, both have big cheeks, but he has no hair bow. Or hair.







Nutmeg and Bud: Both decidedly convex. She may have him by a bit, but to be fair, he's lying flat and she's sitting up, which may give her a slight girth advantage. His hair = much more conservative. I believe this was we refer to as Bud's "stockbroker phase." He was very worried about the market. Also, mental note: Luvs show through onesies. Huggies don't. FYI.

Happy Monday!

April Fool's Day!

J made the kids an April-Fool's-Day breakfast: blue pancakes...

and real coffee.


Oh, I lobbied for decaf. What if they actually drank the real, and he headed into the office...leaving me with three highly caffeinated children? Who's the April Fool then?!?

He didn't think they would drink it.

Pixie asked for cream and sugar.

I gave J the evil eye.

He said April Fool's Coffee was black.

The kids asked why he got cream.

He said because he drank it everyday, so it wasn't April Fool coffee.

The kids were not fans of black coffee.

Whew.

Hope all of your tricks and foolsy activities were fun!