The Super Awesome, Amazing, Livy is 3

Olivia is three.  Well, she turned three almost a month ago but I can't forget it because she won't let me.  She just recently potty trained and so she is a big girl and a big deal.  If I ask her why she did this or that the response is often simple, "Because I three!"

"Olivia! Why did you paint your nails on the bathroom counter!"
"Because I three!"

"Mommy, I want to go to school." she says.
"You're not old enough yet." I respond.
"But I three!" she cries.

Olivia is at that funny age, one of my favorite ages, where everything she says cracks me up but she is also constantly testing the limits of everything. What sets Olivia apart is her self-view: she is a very confident child who praises herself for her accomplishments.  It's pretty funny.

"I'm done going potty. Good job super, amazzzzing Livy!" She says to herself running out of the bathroom like a superhero.
Or upon completion of a task she exclaims, "Olivia saves the day!"

There is no shortage of drama with this one. In fact, I'm pretty sure there is a constant musical going on in her head.  She loves show tunes and requests demands I play them every time we are in the car. She loves "Annie" and all things Disney.

Her recent trip to Disneyland was about as magical as it can be for a three-year-old.  She practically lives out these movies everyday so getting to meet all the characters was a real treat.

Oh, dear Olivia, Mommy and Daddy are crazy about you.  Not just because you are a funny three-year-old but because we love seeing you become the woman God created you to be.  We love all the things that are uniquely you.

Lord of the Flies- Part 2 of the Barbarian Chronicles

(While part 1 chronicled the life long obsession of her husband's animal kills, part 2 zones in on Destiny's own need for blood... duh nu nu!)

Still. Not a movement, not a blink.  I sat there motionless, without feeling or remorse.  I live in a land of no screens and many horses, a recipe for disaster. The flies are everywhere. Some may think me a barbarian, but it's just a way of life.  Survival, if you will.  I don't even think the fly saw it coming.  My pink swatter of choice came down with such force the dead fly flew across the room and into a bowl.

"3!" I cried. My son cheered. I was proud.  I had passed on a heritage I knew he would not part from.  It's in his blood- The ruthless and relentless hunt for the blood of the flies.  "Remember your record?" he asked with excitement. Of course I remembered.  How Could I forget?

 "21," I said with a smile.

"I don't think you're gonna break any records today, " he said almost in a challenge.

SMACK! BAM! "4...5!" I said as I snuffed the life from my foe. "We will see about that."

They may be fast, they might have the moves, but they haven't met: The Lord of the Flies!

Dear Forest Animals,

Dear Forest Animals (especially the families of Bambi and Thumper),

I know you are probably still in shock at the loss of Thumper.  Especially after loosing Bambi just months ago.  I don't know if this letter will even make much of a difference coming from the wife of the man that slaughtered your furry family.  But I must at least try.

I should have seen the red flags years ago.  I specifically remember before our wedding vows, hearing the story of his teenage years and how one bright and unsuspecting summer day, there was an "accident" involving a lawn mower and a turtle.  Little did I know it was the start of something sinister.

Years later, a bunny rabbit and her babies were enjoying the new life spring brings.  Laying out under a pile of grass, staying warm, the bunnies again had no idea their lives would soon change forever. With the same weapon of destruction, the vicious blades of the mower spun rapidly toward their little home.  The sound would have drowned out any screams the babies could have made. Before they knew it, the big, red machine was recklessly over them and all they could do was duck and cover.  When it was all said and done, one bunny was bleeding, the others forever traumatized.

Here's the thing, little baby bunnies, once precious animal blood has been shed, there is a thirst for more.  The desire may lay dormant for months, even years... But it does come back.

Last year, after a day of frolicking through the meadows and quiet drinks by the stream, Bambi took an evening stroll.  She quickly crossed the street, only to be met with a beastly vehicle and bright lights.  Hopefully it was quick and the bright lights of the car were forever replaced with the shining light of deer heaven.  But perhaps Bambi's death was not quite so disturbing as the comments made by the man just shortly after the atrocity, "What kind of animal runs right in front of a car?" ...I kid you not.  I can only hope the pain lies somewhere deep inside.

Flash forward to last night.  While lying in bed, the perpetrator says rather casually and without concern, "I hit a rabbit tonight." Ummm, okay. Let's rewind, sir.  "What?!" I said in shock and disbelief, "you killed a rabbit?" and without skipping a beat he said, "He zigged when he should of zagged."

So, there you have it forest creatures. I want to say it will never happen again.  I want to say there's a morsel of good left in this world.  But I cannot.  All  I can do is leave you with this stern warning: Keep your loved ones close.

Your Friend,

The Wife

9X2

My oldest child will be 9 in three months.  No biggie.  It's not like 10- the double digit birthday, or 13- the teenage birthday, or even 16- the birthday where you lie to your kid and tell him they changed the law and you now have to be 21 to get your driver's license.  Nope, just 9... Except it's not just 9.

It's 9!!! I had a revelation the other day.  My mad math skills made me quickly realize that 9 is half of 18.  Still not seeing it? It means my son has likely spent half his years living under my roof.  He's left babyhood, toddlerhood and little boyhood in his dust and is simply "boy."  He's the boy formerly known as "my baby."  One foot out the door, the other foot soon to grow man hair.  His first half may have been filled with Thomas the Train, Transformers, and Legos but what will this second half bring? Independence, braces, girls, puberty (say it ain't so), and... probably still more Legos.

I know he's still young and a little kid in so many ways.  However, I have the inside scoop on "blinking" and I can tell you it's highly over-rated.  You see, I blinked and he started walking.  I blinked and he started school.  I blinked and he grew adult teeth.  So I just know these next milestones are quick blinks away.

His soft, undamaged kisses will be replaced with scratchy quick pecks and hugs that require me to reach my arms up instead of down.  His sweet little boy voice will turn to crackly out of tune sounds that evolve into baritone-like confidence... But it will still be him.  He will still be the guy who can cause my heart to feel both the greatest joys and worst fears. He will always be my baby and my boy.  And who knows, maybe when I say, "I love you," he will learn to say more than "Okay," or "I love you," as monotone as possible with his eyes rolling.  Maybe age and maturity will bring non-coerced responses and heart-felt thanks.  Maybe. But for now I'll grab a hold of 9 with all my might and savor every moment, every triumph, every life lesson, and make this "second half" a great game and a strong finish.

Stay Together, Forever

From my earliest memories I remember adoring my sister.  I wanted to dress like her, be friends with her friends, talk like her, etc.. I still love and adore her. I dream of being neighbors in heaven.  She knows more about me than anyone else.  She knows and understands my very foundation. We don't agree on everything and we haven't always gotten along (picture little sister "borrowing" older sister's clothes because she wants to be like her) but even in our worst of teenage sister fighting, I knew she loved me.  I caught glimpses of that when my 6th grade boyfriend broke up with me and proceeded to walk in my house and ask my sister to the dance.  She said no. Sister love.  Or when I got beat up walking home from church and my sister was so mad she wanted to avenge me. Sister love. Or when she gave me my first cigarette. Sister devil.  No one is perfect.

There were times we got along and times we fought, like all siblings.  But I remember the day we "clicked."  I was probably 12 or 13 years old and my sister not far ahead of me. We were watching a movie.  I don't remember which movie but I remember we liked it.  At the end of the movie we started saying, "Stay together, forever," rather sing-songy and stretched our shirts out over our knees as we rocked back and forth to our newfound chant.  We knew that we would be together forever.

For these reasons I am beyond gitty for my four girls.  They get to grow up making memories they will cherish forever... times 4!  They will inevitably fight but they will be there for each other through the joys and heartbreak of life. And I just feel so blessed I have a first class ticket to the show.  I love seeing them come up with handshakes and scream and giggle when they're supposed to be sleeping (most of the time).  I love the fight that comes out of them when another is being wronged.  I look forward to what their future holds, my Little Women.

So my sweet girls, cherish each other.  You're all in for the long haul.  Stay together, forever. 

Lend Me Your Ear

Baby snorting, Baby breathing. "Whaaaa!" Guzzle, guzzle- breatheeee. Guzzle, guzzle- breatheeee.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, "I hung-gy!" Sleepless groan. Cupboards open.
 Pitter-patter, pitter- patter, Pitter-Patter, PITTER-PATTER! "We're hungry!" Clang, clang-slurp, clang, clang-slurp, clang, clang-slurp. Cupboards close.
Pitter.....Patter, Boy voice, "Mom... I'm hungry." ...Cupboards open. ...Clang.....clang.....slurp. Cupboards close.
Screams of laughter...louder screams of laughter...blood-curdling screams of pain! "Mommy!  Sissy pushed me!!!!"
 baby giggle? Baby Giggle!  Baby cry? Baby cry. Guzzle, guzzle- breatheeee. Guzzle, guzzle- breatheeee. Screams???! "Don't scream like that. I though you were hurt!"
Water drops falling from the shower. Sigh of relief... BANG! BANG! On the door, baby! BANG! BANG! on the door! "Say, What?!"
"Mommmmmmyyyyyy!"
"I'll be right out!"
 Door creeks, shower curtain rustles. "Mommy, you wat."
"What?"
"You wat."
"Huh?"
"You Waaaaaat!"
"...oh, wet. Yes, Mommy is wet." Towel friction. Baby crying. Guzzle, guzzle-breatheeee. Guzzle, guzzle-breatheeee.
Piano key bashing, piano key note C, piano key note C, piano key note C, piano key note C, piano key note C, piano key note C, PIANO KEY NOTE C!!!! "No more piano right now, please."
"Mommy, we're hungry." cling, clang, cling, clang. faucet on, faucet off.
"Want to play outside?" sounds of glee.
Silence...
 "Wahhhh!" Guzzle, guzzle-breatheee, guzzle, guzzle-breatheeee.
Door flying open, door slamming closed.  Crayons scratching paper. humming turned to song. "Jesus wuvs me, Yes, Jesus wuvs me, yes, Jesus wuvs me. Yes, yes, yes." songs sweetly sung out of tune.  Heart skipping a beat. Pep in my step.
"Knock, knock",
"Who's there?"
"Boo"
"Boo, who?"
"Don't cry." Giggles, giggles, giggles.
"Wahhh!" Guzzle, guzzle-breatheeee. Guzzle, guzzle-breathe.
Silence... SILENCE??? "What's going on in here?" sponges scrubbing walls, kids crying. "We're sorry, Mommy."
"I forgive you."
Door opens. "Daddy's home!"
"We're hungry." Cling, clang, cling, clang. Faucet on, faucet off.
"Time to go to bed." Cries and whining. Faucet on, toothbrushes brushing. Stories read, prayers said.
"Good night." ...
"Daddy?"
"Yes"
"Why did God make us?" Talk, talk, talk.
"Daddy, I'm thirsty."
"Daddy, I have to go potty."
"Wahhhh!" Guzzle, guzzle-breatheeee. Guzzle, guzzle-breathe. baby snores...
Silence.
"I love you, dear."
"I love you too."
  Sounds of dream world breaking through.

To Whom It May Concern,

Every year I take all my blog entries as well as several posts from Facebook involving my family and add it to our memory book along with pictures from the year.  I started this tradition in 2007 and have books for every year.  The other night I went to kiss my son before I went to bed and I saw all the memory books out on the floor.  "What are you doing," I asked.

"I'm reading the memory books," he said and continued to read.  The next morning at the breakfast table he asked, "Remember when..." and proceeded to go over things he had done as a two year old.  I didn't remember.  I had totally forgotten something that had meant so much to me not that long ago.  That's why I do this.  I want to remember and I want my kids to remember.  I want them to know what was going on both spoken and unspoken in their lives as they grew up.  So, kids, when you read this, I loved you, I love you now, and at the risk of sounding cliche, I will always love you... no matter what.  

Mommy

P.S. It was too expensive to print out more than one memory book for each year.  So, since there are so many of you, all the books are to go to ______________, that kid was my favorite.  (To be filled in later with bribery).

Sending Four to Venus

I have four girls.  4. Cuatro. IV.

  If you would have told me this would have been my lot 10 years ago I would have laughed...  Or cried.  The verdict is still out as they are not yet teenagers.  You see, I was certain God would give me a brood of boys.  He certainly wouldn't want this fairly insensitive, not really girly, slightly cynical, woman to raise girls.

When I say I am not girly I am not implying I don't like domestic things.  I love to cook, do crafts, and be creative with my hands.  I'm just not one of those girls who has to end every sentence two octaves higher than I started.  I don't like romantic comedies, high heels, or fancy things and I only cry when I'm really upset, not when I see a dead rabbit on the road.  But I am really sentimental about my kids and their ever changing little bodies and personalities.  I'm very protective of my cubs as well.  

My first born daughter quickly schooled me in her Venus origins. She was only a couple weeks old when I said in a frustrated voice, "What does she want?!" after she cried for hours in the middle of the night.  She looked at me in shock, her lower lip quivered, and she started crying.  She was a newborn.  How could she be so emotional already?  Over the years I have found her crying on multiple occasions and when I have inquired as to why all she can say is, "I don't know, I'm just crying."  I admit, I'm a woman of little patience.  I have a "get over it," mentality.  This has proven to be an ineffective method- I can be a bit of a jerk sometimes.  

But you see I married this man who seems to know exactly what these girly girls need.  He is a listening ear for them or just hugs it out the times they don't know why they are crying.  I thank God for him.  And I have learned to make an effort as well. This does not come naturally for me. It's an effort I'm willing to make because I love my girls and know I need to be able to communicate to them in their love language. For instance, they love for me to paint their nails.  I hate it.  I don't even like to paint my own nails.  I hate when my nails get long enough to paint and only allow it so that I can better peel oranges and pick the junk out of my kids ears. If it was socially acceptable I would just leave one nail long and call it the peeler/picker.  On second thought, I live in the middle of nowhere so maybe I'll do that.  Heck, I have five kids so people already think I'm weird. 

 Anywho, I set time aside to paint their nails and I do it cheerfully and sometimes even end my sentences two octaves higher as I carefully lather sparkly blue paint on each nail.  And in some weird way I enjoy it.  Maybe it's the fumes from the polish but maybe it's the look in my girls' eyes that says it all.  They know and appreciate the effort and I know God knew what He was doing all along.  

...Oh, but please don't hesitate to visit me and send cards when I am institutionalized during puberty. 

Night Time Revelations

"Waaaaa!!! Dadaaaaa!" I hear in the dark from the other room. Andy brings our little Olive into the room for the fifth night. She coughs in that high pitched, pathetic toddler cough and quickly falls asleep sandwiched safety between her Mommy and Daddy. But now I am wide awake. It's 5:30 a.m. and the sound of her precious baby snores mixed with the relatively close time to which the Packer household is awake anyway, I can't go back to sleep. So I sit there contemplating all of life's mysteries and taking in all the revelations those early morning/middle-of-the-night thoughts often bring. 

I start to contemplate why every older adult with grown children feels the need to tell me in the midst of my child's in-store melt down that I'm gonna miss this.  Sure, I think, I'll miss kissing squishy toddler cheeks and baby laughs, but this? Nope, definitely not gonna miss this. But then I start to think about life in 20 years. 

I think about the noise levels in the house replaced with the sound of traffic driving by and clocks I didn't know ticked. Bathroom counters that don't have toothpaste smeared all over them the day after I clean them. Jars of peanut butter and jelly that last months instead of weeks. Meals free from indigestion. Quiet car rides. Times of reflection and prayer in the pew before service and listening to whole sermons instead of teaching the older kids  how to follow along in the service, and teaching toddlers how to not be little screaming monkeys.  A calendar free from weekly doctor's appointments, scheduled activities, and school assignments due...

I start to think I must be crazy as an overwhelming feeling of sorrow takes over my sleep-deprived body. Because in that moment, I realize I really am gonna miss all of that. The same crazy sounds that come out of my house and make me thankful I don't have any neighbors in a 10 acre radius, are actually a comfort to me. The toothpaste on the counters and never-ending mess are the beautiful signs of growing life in my house. 

Someday, long gone will be the days of baby smiles, toddler belly-laughs, funny handshakes between sisters (including "booty-bumps"), and the wide-eyed wonderment of learning new things. There's only one "first time," you know.  The first time they carve a pumpkin or feel the disappointment of reading a book and then watching the movie. The heartbreak of watching them fail and the pride in the triumphs that come from those failures.

We are blessed, fellow parents. God did not lie when he called children a blessing. We are taking part in one of life's greatest gifts. And it's hard. It's hard because God uses these little munchkins to drive and mold the selfishness right out of us. He gives us glimpses of our own stubbornness and hardheartedness. But He also gives us joy. A joy incomparable to anything else in this life.

So yes, I'm gonna miss this. And I pray God would grant me the time on this earth to get to see it from a whole other point of view: grandchildren.

The Best Breakfast Ever

I was in that state between dreamland and reality.  The pillow was still covering my face from the light... and the world.  Just five more minutes.  Five more minutes before I start all over again.

I hear foot steps coming up the stairs.  It must be Ally.  She often climbs into bed with me in the mornings to snuggle.  I look forward to those mornings because I know someday I'm gonna miss her toddler giggles and remains of baby fat that fade with each passing day.  But today is not one of those days.  I peer out from the darkness to see a blurry, blond-haired boy standing at the end of my bed.  This is new.  This is the kid who is normally always last to get up.  He's definitely not here to snuggle- not his thing.  He's holding something in his hand.

"Mom, I made you breakfast in bed,"  He says almost without emotion.  He practically tosses a piece of bread at me, no plate.  "It's even gluten free." He says with a stoic voice.  I look at my tiny piece of bread with an attempted, but failed effort to spread cold butter across the surface.  Most people wouldn't think much of this.  But somehow this is quite possibly the best breakfast I've ever seen.
"I would have made you eggs but we don't have any,"  Be still my heart.

He cares.  He's thoughtful.  He's loving.  The heart is catching up.

Old Yeller

I yell at my kids.  Not just once a month, or when they are about to run in the street, but all the time.  I'm not proud of this, I'm confessing the facts.  Sometimes it because I'm tired.  Sometimes it's because I'm distracted and don't want to deal with the situation.  But you know what?  Sometimes it's because my kids do stupid things.
That's right, I said it.  Sometimes my kids just do stupid, childish things because they're children.  Part of me raising them is correcting stupid things.  I don't need to coddle them or say things like, "Now sweetie, WE don't color on the walls," Because you know what?  I never color on my walls.  I spent too many days painting them and getting help from others to paint them as well.   Hard work and money went into those walls.  I don't say, "We don't color on the walls because that's not nice."  I say, "Don't color on my walls!"  And then I make them erase it.  One time Abby and Ally took crayons and colored both sides of their doors, the laundry door, their walls, and their closet.  They scrubbed walls for two hours and I took their crayons away for a few days.  I wasn't stifling their creativity I was purging the demons! ( I'm kidding, don't freak out.) When they said, "Mommy, our hands are tired."  I didn't say, "Well, you learned an important lesson."  I said, "That's because you spent so much time coloring on my walls. Keep scrubbing."
Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of times when I yell at them unjustly.  EVERYday, in fact.  There is a whole lot of realizing my own failures as a mother and a lot of grace needs to be poured out on this old yeller.
 -End of rant-

Every Stain Tells a Story

"You're busy!" The lady at the store says as she observes my four children in line at the check-out.
"Yeah," I say with a smile.  I've heard this a thousand times before.  In fact, I've heard this since I've had two kids.  And I am.  I'm busy.  I have been for a long time. But I have never felt it so much as I do now.

Do you know what scares me more than anything? An unexpected guest at around 1:00 pm.  They would see me open the door and immediately observe hair uncombed, smudged glasses, dirty clothes, house a mess, and kids still in their pajamas. There are truly not enough hours in the day to get it all done.

Today, after a long day in which the hubs had to leave the house at 4:45 am and did not return home until about 6:00 pm, I walked back into my room for the first time all day.  I looked in the mirror and was horrified by the state of my attire.  Here's a glimpse:

Totally disgusting.  This shirt is the result of not one, not two, but three girls with a cold.  It's a baby who spits up if she is not burped well.  It's a homeschooling "wouldn't it be fun to make your own clay" project, and oil splatter from cooking.  It's apparently a napkin too.  

I'm tired.  I'm tired of the baby waking up to nurse twice a night and I'm tired of two year old potty accidents.  But you know, I'll get up the next day and do it all over again.  And I'd do it over and over again.  Because each of these stains tells a story.  A beautiful, messy story about a mom and her kids and their daily disasters adventures of growing up and growing together.  

PS Olivia has her own story about today... 

or the last two days... ehhh, let's say today for saving face purposes. 

Allison the Great

Look at this girl.  Totally cute and adorable.  She has the sweetest little voice and much to her dismay, I kiss her all day long.  She's sweet, she's funny, and she's.....destructive.

I just had to go to the bathroom.  It was only going to be a minute.  But when I came out I started to piece together the crime scene.  Somehow she had managed to knock over the baby monitor, play with my china, take several of the canned food jars down in the kitchen, play with my ipod and take the case off, dump a game out, and flush a bar of soap down the toilet.  It's like something goes off in her head, "Mom left the room, must do as much damage as possible."

I know every two year old is messy and destructive but Ally is my most deliberate one.  She once put toothpaste all over her sister's face while she slept and when she woke up screaming, she ran away laughing.

The other day, I told Ally she was a big girl and big girl's don't poop in their diapers. That day, she woke up from a nap and had a mischievous look on her face.  "Do you want Mommy to hold you-" "No!" she immediately responded.  Uh oh.  I knew something was up. She probably pooped in her diaper and didn't want me to hold her.

"Did you poopy?" I asked.  No answer.  I lifted up her dress to check her diaper and didn't find any poop.  In fact, I didn't even find a diaper. "Where's your diaper, Ally?"  She didn't have the nerve to answer.  She just pointed to her room.  As I stepped into her room I felt something warm and squishy between my toes. It felt about 98.6 degrees so I knew it was fresh.  I didn't even have to look down to make sure, I knew. "Allllllly!" I yelled.  Immediately tears and loud wails came from my adorable mischief.  It was hard to be mad when she was following my instructions to "not poop in her diaper."

God made this one adorable on purpose.

Claustro-Phonophobia: Tips on Traveling with Children

It's summer time!  Time to lather on the sunscreen, hit the lakes and beaches, take walks... and plan vacations that involve long rides in the car with screaming children.  I don't think there is a word for this experience so I have made one up:

Claustro-Phonophobia- Fear of loud noises in small spaces.

I suffer from this.  There is nothing that can get my eye twitching like a screaming or whiney child in a car.  It grates on me and I slowly come unraveled.

I don't really consider myself an expert on anything.  Parenting is nothing like I expected and much of what I have learned has come by trial and error.  But I have traveled A LOT with children.  So much so I have been asked on more than one occasion if I was crazy.  In one long (but fun and eventful) summer we traveled 116 hours, 6,000 miles, and crossed 30 states in a 2 month period.  Oh, and we had a 4 year old, 3 year old, and 7 month old in the car.  We've made another across country trip with two of our kids ages 1 and 2 at the time.  We've made countless one day drives in the past seven years as well.

I have learned a thing or two in that time.   But the most important thing I have learned is road trips can be really fun with even the youngest of children (you just called me "crazy," didn't you).  Seriously, don't stop reading!  Here are a few of the tips I have learned to make traveling a fun and relatively whine/cry- free experience...

1.  Get them excited!  Talk about the trip with your kids (if they are old enough).  Do some plan-ahead research and find some things they will see on the way.  They will anticipate each site even if you are only driving by.

2. Buy a map.  I got this map and every time we crossed a new state the kids got to put a sticker on (we would wait until the next stop to put it on and the kids would take turns).  The best part is you can reuse it for each trip and the kids can keep track of all the states they've been in.

3.  This one is pricy but is possibly the greatest invention short of antibiotics in the past 100 years: The automobile DVD player.   You'll take a hit with the initial purchase but you will hopefully have it for years to come.

4. Baby entertainment.  For young babies who can't eat snacks, there's not a whole lot to do.  I usually reach back and hand them a toy if they can hold onto things.  I keep a small bag of little baby toys and hand them a new toy each time they drop them into the new area of your car you didn't know existed.  Baby mirrors that attach onto the back of the seat are great.  Things that make noise and have a remote control (that particular toy works great if they are rear facing because you control the remote and forward facing because they control the remote). Also, this and this. And this is great so your older baby or toddler can't lose their sippy cup or bottle.  If they can eat snacks, I prefer Mum Mums because they dissolve in their mouth and are not a choking hazard but they take awhile to eat. And it goes without saying, make the most of your stops so you are stopping as little as possible (i.e., change diaper, feed and let baby stretch during each stop.  And don't stop if baby is sleeping... no matter how bad you have to go to the bathroom).

5.  Kid/Toddler entertainment.  My 5 and almost 7 year old like to play video games.  My 2 1/2 year is entertained by each device for all of two minutes.  Fun Pockets are great because they stick to the scenery without being sticky.  Magnetic Books are great for the same reason.  Obviously no one can buy this kind of stuff for one trip. I have come upon most of this stuff at garage sales or have accumulated stuff over time. If you have two kids sitting next to each other this is a great way to store everything.  I put all their entertainment, including coloring books and crayons and their water in there.  aquadoodles are great entertainment without making the mess as well as Color Wonder books and markers.

6.  Comfort.  Uncomfortable kids make for cranky kids.  We bought our kids these a long time ago to ease the long amount of time in a car seat.

7.  Snacks, Snacks, Snacks.  Each day of travel I pack a brown paper bag full of snacks for the kids to eat at their own discretion.

8.  CD's.  Not just music cd's (Those are great too).  Try books on tape.  You can even check them out at the local library.  It gives them something to follow without starring at a screen.

9.  Presents!  Everybody loves to unwrap a gift.  I am going to wrap a present for each day of the trip and I will give it to them at the "half way" point each day.  That will give them something to look forward to as well as a boost of energy for the second half of the trip.  Again, I have picked up a lot of this stuff at garage sales.  Buy a toy for a quarter at a garage sale, wrap it up, and you buy an hour in the car.

10.  Pack separate suitcases for each day you are staying at a hotel.  There is nothing more frustrating and tiring then hauling all your luggage into a hotel you are only staying one night at.  Pack a separate, smaller suitcase with all the stuff you and your family will need for that night.  If you are staying at more than one hotel, pack a small luggage bag for each night and carry a small back pack with all the stuff that will need to be used at every hotel like toiletries, pajamas, bathing suit.  That way you don't have to worry about transferring stuff over to the next suitcase. So, you are walking into the hotel with a backpack and a small suitcase and maybe a few small items like a purse, computer, etc..

                               Most important, don't forget to take pictures and have fun.

                                          You'll always remember your vacations!

                     We will be traveling for three days (24 driving hours) this summer

                                              with a 6, 5, 2 yo and 4 month old.

Moving On

I think a common misconceived notion is that if I work hard enough or have the right amount of faith, no troubles will come my way.  God blesses the righteous and to hell with everyone else.  This is simply unbiblical and not true.  Ask Job.  If anything, God calls the Christian to a life of crosses and a certain amount of suffering.  This is not to say the Lord does not take absolute delight in blessing His children. 

Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!  -Matthew 7:9-11

I can attest to this verse.  In my short lived life, God has blessed me and my family beyond measure.  I cannot tell you how many times the car broke down or something came up and the Lord provided.  But we have endured a certain amount of suffering as well.  I won't get into the details but I think we can all agree every person does suffer.  But the reality is people do not suffer because they lack faith.  They suffer because we live in a fallen and sinful world.  And no amount of faith is going to change that.  Believer and unbeliever alike, we all suffer, we all are disappointed at times, we all experience heart break.   I have never lost a child.  I'd imagine that is one of the worst things that could happen to a person.  I've never been physically persecuted for my faith or had a crippling illness.  I don't know why I have been spared (thus far) in my life from certain calamities but I can tell you it is not because of me.  I do know I am not exempt from such tragedies.  These life altering events happen everyday.  If I am ever faced with such a crises I pray God would give me the grace to persevere.  The Christian cannot/ must not ever boast of their own works.  We are sinners and apart from God's grace we are nothing.  The difference for the Christian boils down to one phrase: hope in Christ.  Our hope is not in this fallen and decaying world.  The Rev. Lamb so rightly spoke when he said we must not look to the god of death for life.  We so desperately try to keep these fragile and feeble bodies of ours going because we believe this life is our hope.  That is why we turn to abortion, assisted suicide, stem cell research, and the like.  We look to death to ease our suffering.  But friends, take heart!  We were created by the God of life!  There is hope from the pain, the heart break, and the suffering.  God has given us His one and only Son to die on our behalf so that we could live!   Life!  That is what our God gives us.  That is who our God is.  That is why He tells us to eat and drink of His life giving body and blood while still on this earth.  That is why we can look past this earth and declare with the saints, This is not it!  There is so much more!  There is the kingdom of heaven that waits for all those who believe! Hope, my friends!  Don't ever give up this hope.

Find That Human

Let's play a game.  It's called, "Find That Human." The rules are simple.  Below are three drawings created by Ethan.  Your job is to find the human in each.  The first one is easy:

Poor guy probably didn't know what got him.  Okay, let's try it again with picture two:

Note to self:  Don't create a robot that is 1000 times bigger than you are.  They will always turn on you and then destroy you.  

Those pictures were too easy.  Let's try another.  This one's a toughy.  Here's a hint:  That's not a human in his mouth.  Keep looking...

 Yeah, that was it.  Your eyes did not deceive you.  I want a front row seat inside his brain while he draws.  This kid is not allowed to see a psychotherapist until he is out of the coloring stage.

Who Should Win the War?

Can war be justifiable?  Is an offensive war okay?  These are questions I am not going to answer in this blog.  I'm still trying to figure out a way to convince my son war is not won by capturing the flag (thanks Animaniacs).
 I have two kids who have asked for my opinion on who would win another type of war.  A war that has not started but has been planned out.  Quite frankly, I'm stumped.  Perhaps you can help.  Abby and Ethan spent all night drawing up their plans.  Note exhibit A:

 This is Ethan's battle plan:
 Black: Rifle Men
Brown: Tanks
Purple: Elite Troops
Yellow: Chain Guns
Red: Flame Throwers
Blue: Bomber Planes
Green: Canons

And Exhibit B:

This is Abby's Plan: 

Purple: Blueberries

Blue: Police Officers

Silver: Knights

Pink: Berries

Brown: Mud Pies

Yellow: Sun

Orange: Lava

Peach: Fireman

(She was going to have another color which she said was going to represent "daddy" but she must have forgotten)

How am I to choose who would win?  I mean, on the one hand, Ethan has a lot of fire power.  But he has positioned them randomly.  There is no order.  Abby's is very orderly but I'm not sure how she plans on obtaining a sun.  Actually, 8 suns.  Ethan says having suns is cheating.  I do, however, admire her Ode to the Heroes.  I mean, she has knights, firemen and policemen.  

At the end of the day I guess I would have to side with Abby.  To be honest, I think she had me at mud pies.   What do you think?

Dear Mrs. Future Ethan Packer,

I apologize ahead of time for my son's black and white personality, his unwillingness to try new things and his love of staying at home.  He was born that way, I promise.  Since he was a baby, he has had a hard time with change.  Let me give you some examples.

"Mom, do you know what my favorite day is?" Ethan asked after closing his last study book before the weekend.

"What?" I asked.

"My favorite day is when I don't have any math to do, and we don't go anywhere, and no one comes to see us."

As you know, this conversation describes Ethan so well. He loves to be at home.  He would rather be left alone to a chemistry set, toys or books than go out to dinner or take a walk.  One time we were reading a book together for school and I was asking him to compare and contrast a picture of a busy drive-in burger place, and a boy on a boat in the dark of the night.  "I like this picture," he said pointing to the boat, "because it's calm and quiet."    

He's my HOMEboy.  There was actually a time we were packing up to go to Chuck-E-Cheese and he whined about having to leave the house.  My girls were not like this.  I could barely leave the house without one of the girls begging to go with me.  It didn't matter if it was the bank or the store, they would want and welcome the change of scenery.  

Once, I bought Ethan a new shirt.  I don't remember the design but I remember I thought he would really like it.  After being in his drawer for a few weeks I asked him, "Why don't you wear the new shirt I got for you?"  

"I'm not used to it yet."

"But you like *whatever* design."

"Yeah, but I'm not used to it.  I can't wear it until I'm used to it."

So, I did the best I could.  I'm sure you love all the many wonderful things about him that I do: his love of science, his willingness to help out and of course, how much he loves his momma.  That's probably why you married him.  But as for the aforementioned things, I am sorry.  

Your Future Mother-In-Law,

Destiny 

P.S. I almost didn't use this picture because of the big, fat mess in the background.  But when you make me all of those beautiful grandbabies, you will relate.

6 Pack...er

Come on over to my house for a moment and share in the chaos of 6 Packers.  It's been a crazy week of adjusting to new baby but there is so much to be thankful for.

For starters, I have 4 healthy children.  I have been reminded this week that health is not something to be taken for granted.  I am also thankful for a loving husband who doesn't seem to show fear when he pulls up to the house with a wife standing near the front door starring out the window in "hand off" anticipation.

What has been perhaps the most unexpected and delightful surprise is the reaction of my older three children to their new sister.  Like turning the corner to see Ethan reading to Olivia.

 Everyday, they all can't wait to hold her.  Ally climbs into bed every morning and asks to see "my baby."  She smothers her with kisses and hugs.  I think Olivia may be slightly frightened by her.  She hasn't quite learned the art of gentleness.

Abby held Olivia for a 1/2 hour today on the couch.  She smiled at her, sang to her and kissed her.  Yesterday, Ethan burped her and she fell asleep on him.  

Olivia got her first bath today and the kids all gathered around to see her.  I weighed her on the scale afterward and the kids congratulated her on growing.

Yup, just me, hubby and four beautiful babies.  I'm loving my 6 Packer!

Out of the Mouth of Ally

The hymn books were neatly stacked on the table.  My little two year old walked in behind me carrying another hymnal and bouncing, as she always does, with each step.  She smiled at me and handed me the hymn book. "Werrr-shup, Mommy," she said sweetly.  She had gone into Andy's office and grabbed everything to sit down for family worship.
There's nothing that makes my heart skip a beat like my kids' desire to love and serve their God.  I never want to forget the way Ally looks on Sunday morning, her feet hanging straight off the pew because they are too small to bend and reach toward the floor.  The way she lays the hymn book on her lap between her knees and toes because it's too heavy to hold and how it's sometimes upside down.  And the beautiful noises she makes as she sings to Jesus.  She "sings" at the top of her lungs through every verse and doesn't stop until the music stops.  It's always the same words to every song, "Aghhhhhhhhhhhh!" but she tries to keep a certain melody.  Every week, as we pull up to church she exclaims, "My church!"
Yesterday, Ally surprised us and melted our hearts a little more.  We say the Lord's prayer almost everyday with the kids.  Ally has never said any part of it but yesterday, as we began to say it as a family, Ally said the first few lines, "Our Father, art in Heaven...name."  She continued saying the last word of every phrase and trying to repeat the parts she couldn't say.  Her little hands were clasped together and Andy and I just looked at one another and smiled.
Thank you, Jesus, for the blessing of children and the immeasurable joy of these precious moments!