Childhood Enthusiasm

I just don't know what to do with myself when my little friends are asleep, Mr. Wonderful is working, and the house is so quiet . . . except for the slight ticking of the ceiling fan (it hasn't worked quite the same since the dinosaur incident a ways back). My house is NEVER quiet during the day time. Ike alone makes noise comparable to that of five boys and Kate's calls aren't frequent, yet are still quite loud and demanding. The other day, however, I determined this isn't just noise, but childhood enthusiasm!

I LOVE childhood enthusiasm! It's one of the rarest and most precious gifts. We don't hold it for very long and those who get to truly witness and appreciate it are indeed the most blessed people in the world! Mommies get to witness this enthusiasm first hand. Although sometimes we are quick to pass it off as just noise and not as music to our ears that it really is.

The other day I quickly made my morning coffee, jumped into my favorite blue chair in the dining room (it was out of place due to a much needed carpet cleaning), and snuggled under a blanket. You see, when Wyatt arrives in the morning that's when the enthusiasm for the day reaches it's peak and it's a sheer joy to listen too . . . and watch:)

I love my position in the chair. I can see them clearly, but I am slightly out of their sight. If they saw me watching, they might not be quite as vocal and creative.

It doesn't take long before the pillows are off the couch. ALL the trains are dumped on the floor. And the train track is rapidly assembled. Their merry little voices begin to rise with glee and soon enough the older of the two decides to somersault off the couch! The little one follows. They are boulders falling down the mountain!

BONK! The little one doesn't quite make his somersault so the older comes over with a kiss on the head and the expectation of making everything right. It works! They try again, and again, and again. Little one needs more practice.

I sip my coffee and smile.

Pretty soon the pillows become tunnels, mountains, bridges, caves . . . whatever their little imaginations decide. They see me watching and look to see if I'm going to scold them for taking the pillows off the couch (I usually do).

"Wyatt do that!" the older one defends himself quickly.

"Did you do that too?" I ask.

"Yes." he can't fib.

"Oh. It looks like fun." I say.

"UH, HUH!" the volume rises and they think they'll push the limits.

The older attempts to take flight off the couch and crashes with a loud THUD. The little one tries to get up on the couch to follow, but can't get up fast enough before I call a stop to the jumping on or off of the couch. He toddles away to try something else.

They play and talk and make up stories and sing songs. Secretly, I wish they'd let me play too. It just looks like so much fun!

Kat Tales

My sister is in the process of adopting a little boy (who turns one today!) and she brought him over here for a little visit. Little Kat watched intently as Evan crawled all over the place. So last night she tried to put what she observed into action, but kept getting up on her hands and feet with her little bum high in the air. I don't know, maybe she isn't trying to crawl at all. Maybe she's just doing a little stress relieving yoga. She does a mean "downward facing dog"!

Kate watched little Isaac eat a churro while they both sat in the cart at Costco. She eyed his churro for a while and finally decided to lean way over and eat it from the other end. She sucked away at it as fast as she could -- it was that good! We've been holding out on the good stuff! (Isaac was not amused.)

Kate is eight months old today!!!!

Mayberry Sunday

This past Sunday, Bill and I sat in the very last row at church. It's an outsider's post really, but I'm a people watcher so I have to say that I enjoy the view from back there.

I adore the elderly couple that greets everyone at the door with a smile, a greeting, and a bulliten. They come into the service after it starts to make sure any late-comers get a greeting. They are divinely sweet and every week, you can count on them to wear matching outfits. This particular Sunday they chose angelic white cable knit sweaters, matching heads of short gray hair, and black slacks. I tend to think that all the thought they put into their attire means that they really look forward to Sunday. I smile as they come into the service as they help each other with each and every move. They are frail and he uses a cane to help him walk on a hurt foot. They hobble to their seats -- the same two seats every week. Of course they are remarkably thoughtful so they choose the seats closest to the door so they won't disturb the service. They snuggle into their seats and sit for the rest of the service. I lean in a little closer to my Bill and my heart sighs. What a beautiful picture of pure love they are.

When the music starts, I look over to the elderly women sitting up a few rows from us. There is a group of them that always sit together. I watch them turn down their hearing aids. Again I'm sitting there like a smiling fool. They just make my heart happy with how they don't ever complain or scowl (or maybe that's because I can only see the back of their heads, but whatever). They just enjoy the service . . . low volume style.

The lady sitting down from us is dressed up from head to toe. She has a lovely brown hat and suit on. Her style makes me think of Mayberry and Aunt Bea. I bet she has a fresh baked apple pie waiting to be eaten after a hearty Sunday meal.

The music plays on, and I can't help but notice the "joyful noise" coming from somewhere in the service. I won't be specific. That would be rude, but I smile on as she keeps singing "joyfully" off key. And yet, I wonder how the man standing next to her keeps a straight face. But alas! He isn't rude either. I almost wish they'd crank up the music pastor's microphone to drown her out, but hey! That would rude. Sheesh! I don't sing well either . . .

By now you are probably wondering if I do anything but people watch. In the back row, no. That's all I do. I should sit closer to not have so many distractions. People are far too interesting.

As the pastor starts preaching, I snuggle in close to my Bill. I can't help but listen to every word . . . he is that good! I get convicted and challenged. But that's another blog story for some other time.

Breast Cancer Prevention

Take your vitamin D and primrose oil to help prevent breast cancer. . . at least that's what my doc tells me. Do your research. I've done mine and you better believe I take both. Also I've looked into iodine deficiencies (as they run in my family). When deficient in iodine, serious diseases may occur . . . like fibrocystic breasts, hyper or hypothyroidism, and many more. Read some books on the subject. It's good for you:)

New Dress from Grandma Linda

My Favorite Little People

Ike's Insight

"Where did Grandpa Roger's hair go?" I ask during an extensive hair conversation with my four-year-old.

"It fell off his head and went on his face." Ike explained with cute little hand gestures. (Grandpa Roger has a goatee.)

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"You've made my heart sad by being naughty," I told Ike.

Learning recently where our hearts are (due to the pledge of allegiance), he came over and kissed my heart. "I kiss your heart and make it happy," he said with a smile.

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A few minutes after being tucked into bed, Ike tip-toed out of bed to find me.

"Mommy, " he said seriously with his eyes wide for emphasis, "I smell bad guys in my room!"

Nice try there big guy!