The Pee Talk

I write this cautiously.

I don't really want to share this with you but since the boys keep telling the story and anyone who hears it doubles over in laughter and then says, "Now, there's a blog post for you!" I am typing this out to you.

Those of you with just daughters may not understand this blog post and should read with caution.

I am often asked for S3 updates.  There aren't nearly as many blog posts or facebook updates with him because he lives in a world all his own.  He's friends with everyone and most anything just rolls off his back.  He talks the least of all the boys and hugs the most.  He has, by far, learned how to annoy his brothers the best.

Well, here is a S3 story for you.

On a bright sunny day, my boys boarded the big yellow school bus and began the hour long ride home.  Because we live in the country, we have a lot of dirt roads around here.  Friends of ours recently returned from Africa, as in the wilds of Africa where they make a day long trip into a city to purchase groceries for the next weeks of living in the middle of nowhere they lived.  When they have traveled the dirt roads near our home they have declared them by far worse than the roads they traveled in Africa.

That is some bad rough pot holed roads.

My boys bounced around in this bus.  Often kids stand just to take the shock off their spines in bouncing on the bus.  My S3 kept asking Mandy, our friend as well as great bus driver, how much longer until they arrived home. Most kids DO ask "how much further?" but she was even surprised at him continually asking her.

As they pulled to a stop in front of the house, I watched from my kitchen window as my darling boys hopped off the bus and ran for the driveway.

Except S3 stopped soon after taking a few running steps into the yard.  He dropped his backpack, unzipped his zipper and let the pee flow.

Yes, my son, in the broad daylight, with the bus stopped at our driveway and a line of vehicles (oddly, even Mandy commented on that) waiting for the bus to move on, stood there peeing.

The other boys, laughing, ran from him.

S3 didn't care a bit.  Back arched, I could swear I could hear him saying "ahhhhhh" as he finally was able to pee after being jostled around on the bus for an hour.

Mandy tried to put the bus in gear as quickly as possible to drive away but she said she was laughing so hard and when the few kids on the bus did realize what they were doing, they all started laughing too.

I had a strict talking to with S3.  I informed him that if he had to pee so badly he couldn't make it into the house (boys...they feel the whole world is their urinal!) then at least wait until he made it to the pine trees so they were shielding him as he peed.

He agreed solemnly.

Yesterday, I picked the boys up from school.  S3 was the first to make it into the suburban and after he had climbed in his seat in the back, I hopped out to chat a quick second to a friend of mine two vehicles over.  When I got back in the suburban, S3 was gone.  His brothers were all climbing in and he wasn't there.

Suddenly, he was climbing back into the suburban, stepping on his brothers as he climbed over the seat again.  "Where were you?" I asked, shocked.

"I had to pee.  Don't worry.  I stood behind a snow bank this time."

So glad that "pee" talk really stuck with him.

I Was Nearly Attacked by a Venomous Shrew

I believe I should get some sort of award for not screeching into the phone today and then letting it fall to the floor with a clatter while I was talking to my husband.

I mean, there should totally be a reward for such control of the situation.

What happened?

Oh, I was just nearly attacked by a venomous shrew.

It happened like this...

All week I have had a terrible head cold. The worst part of this cold is the horrific headaches I have been having.  Earlier in the morning my husband had called to check on me and I, being all strong and stoic, began to cry because even my cheek bones hurt.

I am so tough like that.

Anyhow, I had dropped two of the four boys off at school because one is home sick and the other, you recall, is now home-schooled.  I had arrived home and taken the hottest shower I could stand, not carrying how dry my skin would be afterwards, and then I brewed myself a strong pot of coffee.  I had skipped the MucinexD medicine today for some migraine medicine I had recently picked up but really have never thought of buying.

It worked miracles.

I decided I had better call my husband to let him know I was alive and feeling somewhat human again because I could, in fact, not feel my cheekbones any longer and if you can't feel them then you must be feeling better.

I was stirring my coffee and chattering away to him when I heard a rustle, scratch and commotion.  I looked toward the sound but the dog was not lying there scratching herself.

I wandered into the dining room to see where the dog was lying.  She was lying outside on the porch.

I figured something must have fallen out of the full trash (I've been sick, people, my house is a disaster), and continued chatting with hubs.

Until I heard the sound again.

I cautiously walked toward the trash can and there, on my husband's chainsaw blade, was a shrew.

Oh wait, you say, chainsaw blade?  In the kitchen?  Welcome to my life....

"Eeeeeek!" I tried not to scream but I may have screeched, "There is a shrew!  A shrew is in the kitchen!"

"A what?" my husband asked, bracing himself for my all out panic.

"A SHREW," I said slowly and clearly.  "I have to let you go.  I'll call you later."  I may have mumbled out that "LoveYouBye" word but I honestly don't recall.

I ran to the upstairs steps and screamed called for S1 to come down.  I heard his chair drop to the ground as he hustled to get to me.  My sick S3 did not even glance my way as he sat in the chair, glad to have the living room and tv all to himself, totally oblivious to his mother's hysterical cries for his brother.

It's as if hysterics have become common place to him.  Hmmmmmm.

"What?  What is it?" my eldest son asked, ready to come to my defense.  I love that boy.

"In the kitchen!" I cried and then I creeped back into the kitchen to show him where to look.  He was already undoing his leatherman that is always strapped to his side.  "I don't want to look," I said and walked away.  I joined S3 in the living room to watch Bolt with him.

He let me know when the coast was now clear and safe of all shrews.

Because I just couldn't resist, and because they sorta do look kinda cute, I googled Shrews.  This is what I found......

It's like all my worst nightmares.

Venomous shrews attacking, a snake, and all found in the GARDEN...did you notice the asparagus?  Guess what I'll be looking for this spring?

I had no idea shrew's were venomous.  No idea they attacked.  No idea they have to eat EVERY hour.  

This is one more reason why it is so handy to be homeschooling S1.

And upon reading this harrowing account, don't you think I deserve an award?

Oh wait, I have a gourmet cupcake with peanut butter in it from Garden Gate Cafe...I think I have just been awarded for my bravery and coolness under attack.

Also, it should be noted that although I sent my husband a text informing him that we were now safe, he never called me back.  Don't you find that odd?  Shouldn't he have checked on me? I mean, venomous shrew in my kitchen???  

LEGOs in the Oven

Over here we are on Christmas break.  This means that I stay awake until one in the morning finishing the latest book I have been reading and then waking up to boys staring at me saying something like, "Can you make us waffles again this morning?" at a time in the morning that I wished they would be awake at for a school week but never are.

I am a wee bit tired this week.

But the waffles I have been making? Awesome!  Except that they call for egg whites and I don't have  hand mixer and have you ever tried to get stiff egg whites without a beater?

Don't try.

Mine are sloppy at best.

Which begs to wonder...how awesome would those waffles be if I made them with a hand mixer?

Pretty amazingly awesome, I think.

Because I am determined to tell you about the lego in the oven and did not look on amazon for a hand mixer.  That is dedication to a post, let me tell you.

S3 really wanted an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas.  They only make them in pink and while I had lots of suggestions of getting one and letting him decorate it with duct tape I just could see the duct tape melting and the smell and the mess and yuck.  So for Christmas I got him some baking mixes, measuring cups I am even jealous of, measuring spoons, spatula, spoon and an apron.

Then I promptly forgot to get a photo.

Further evidence I am sleepy.

Today he made up some sugar cookies from a box mix.  Because sugar cookies are a fine breakfast food on Christmas break when Mama won't make waffles.  In his joy at baking he dropped some legos he had been working on onto the table in the kitchen that we use as an island.  When he pulled the hot cookie sheet out of the oven and set it on the table, it landed right on the lego.

If a hot pan is put upon a lego, said lego will stick to it.

I do not recall seeing any WARNING ad on the Lego box about this so I thought I would inform you all of this danger.  I am just trying my best to keep you safe.

S3 slid the cookie sheet back into the oven with the still suck lego on it and as he went to shut the oven he said, "Um, Mama, there's a lego in the oven."

That has never happened before but now that I think back on it all, I wonder how it never has.

I immediately shut the oven off and stood there for a moment wondering what to do next.  Keep in mind I only had a half of cup of coffee in me...which makes me wonder how I ever ended up agreeing to baking cookies with him in the morning if all I had had to drink was half a cup of coffee.

I could see my near future ahead...all the baking and fixing of food I have yet to do for even more Christmas parties we have to attend and all of the food smelling of burnt plastic.  It wasn't a pretty picture.  Or a good smell.

And then I thought (and I know this will shock you all at my brilliance) "I know! Take it out of the oven!"

So I grabbed a pair of tongs (which the boys call thongs and one day that will not be funny but right now it still is) and pulled the still solid but very mushy blue lego out of the oven.

It slid from the tongs/thongs and fell to the kitchen floor in a melted mess.

But then it was quickly solid enough to just toss in the garbage.

There could have been lots of way to tell you this story.  I could have told you the garbage started on fire from the smoldering lego.  The lego burst into flames when I pulled it out of the oven.  Lots of drama.

But none of that happened.  S3 just put the cookies back in the oven, turned it on and we waited for the smell too good to just be box mix sugar cookies to finish baking.

Then all the boys went outside to snow board down our itty bitty hill on our light covering of snow so I blogged you this story.  With only one cup of coffee in my system.

Welcome to our Christmas break.

RIP Snake With No Name and Superman the Hen

A post not for the faint of heart.

I posted this a week ago but it deleted.

Argh.

So, S3 is doing well now.

And planning his pets for next year. 

It's been a rough stretch for S3.

Earlier this month, S3 ran into the house looking for me to nurse...

A snake.

In the tank with the snakes, frogs and turtles, the snapping turtle had taken a bite out of the snake and it wasn't a recovery snake.  The turtle had gone right for the middle of the snake to devour it up.

S3 was ready to move the snake to our one and only bathtub to nurse the snake well.

I told him, "No way."

And then I watched his little lip quiver, his eyes fill up with tears.

I still said no.

But my husband and I headed out to see the snake in recovery.

S3 had taken the turtle out and moved him out to a new habitat (how many habitat these boys have for reptiles is unnerving) and removed the snake to lay on the grass.  There it laid still, unmoving.

Only a slight flick of it's tongue gave indication it was still alive.  In the middle of the snake was a huge chunk gone. The little turtle had thought the snake looked very tasty.

We brought S3 into the house so he didn't have to see while S1 took care of the snake and buried it out in the weeds.  He was sniffling and crying.  "That snake didn't even have a name," Jake tried to console him.

"But it was my snake and it was trained so good," he wailed.

What do you say when your son is sobbing over a snake?

I just sorta ran out of words at all so I just gave him a hug.  

RIP Snake with No Name

Less than two weeks later....

S3 headed out to the chicken coop with a bunch of chicken scraps.  Any leftover food or cleaned out fridge food goes right out to the chickens.  They get to dine on home cooked meals quite regularly. 

Suddenly he came bursting into the house.  

His chicken, his beloved chicken that had survived all the raccoon attacks this summer, had died.

And my poor son had been the one to find the chicken.

This chicken has had quite a life.

There was the day we took the chicken to school.

Yah, you read that right.

Superman the hen did a rather memorable class trip and I chalked that up on my "Never thought I would do this" list.

All summer we have been fending off raccoons and have had to keep our usually roaming chickens penned up.  But something had grabbed the hen and taken it's head off - whether a night time critter or a dog - but the chicken was dead and he was devastated.

My heart broke for my son who's heart is so soft that he sobs over dying snakes and dead chickens.

RIP Superman the Hen

Brotherly Love

This morning, my boys were at it.

As in, "Uh! I am going to tell on you!"

You know, there is not enough coffee in the WORLD to make that whining bearable in the morning.  Or any time, for that matter.  Whining is soooo, oh, wait, now I am whining. I hate whining.

So, as I stood in the shower wishing I could still be sleeping, S4 whips the shower curtain aside (there are two shower curtains, but still, privacy has never occurred to him) and tattled on his brother, S3.

S3, for all his sweetness to others, is the prime antagonizer of his brothers.  It's really an art form for him.

It was obvious that S3 was the guilty one by his tears as soon as I approached him, wrapped in pink bath towels on my way to the bedroom to get dressed.  His lips quivered and he began to mumble why he wasn't to blame but his mumbling wasn't making much sense.

And I hadn't said a word to him yet.  This further proved his guilt.

"Listen, you two have to learn to get along.  You are going to be brothers FOR THE REST OF  YOUR LIFE, so you might as well get along.  Hug your brother and think of five nice things about him."

I left them on their own to sort it out...and so I could get dressed.

And finally drink a cup of coffee.

They must have made up grandly, I figured, because while I was pouring the blessed french press coffee into my mug (Starbucks Blonde Blend, Willow is my current new favorite), all four boys were outside.

Around five this morning we had a brief rain shower hit us.  The boys, getting ready for school, noticed the rain splatters and did what every boy does when it rains...

They run for their bikes.

They were racing around the driveway seeing who could splatter more mud.  Then they began to try to do burn outs - ok, I think they are called burn outs but I am not really sure of the correct wording - on the freshly mowed now wet grass.

They were laughing hysterically.

They all clambered into the suburban covered in mud and wet grass.

I assure you they were clean at one point this morning.  It just didn't last long.

But all that mud was worth all their giggles and squeals and laughs this morning.

The afternoon went well when they arrived home.  I had my nephews here and we made cupcakes to surprise them with. (As I type this, there are NO MORE cupcakes left.  They devoured every one.)  The boys all played well.  I honestly had forgotten about the fight this morning.

As I was dishing out dinner, S4 announced, "Mama, S3 still has not said five things he likes about me."

S3 groaned, slapped his hand on his forehead, and slumped at the table.  Five NICE things about your brother is just about impossible, I suppose.

What do you do to keep your kiddos getting along? Any new tricks I need to try? 

S3 Day

Today we were doomed to get an ice storm.

The teachers told the boys to prepare for it.

We worried and stressed over it.

I changed S3's dentist appointment because of it.

It rained.

We didn't even have a two hour delay.

S3 and I reclaimed his dentist appointment.

S3 was thrilled he had the day off of school.  A cavity to be filled was never looked forward to with such joy.  His brothers, on the other hand, thought it was totally unfair and sort of wished they had a cavity too.

Every day S3 runs around the house annoying his brothers, getting them in trouble, shrieking in laughter and silliness.  The moment he gets away from his brothers he is all kind and quiet, he runs to open the door for me and hardly says words to me.

Because it is a rare day indeed I only have one of my four boys with me, I try to make it special.  I could just drive to the dentist and then right back home again, but why not live it up if we are in the city anyhow?

After the dentist, we drove to Target to look for summer shoes for him.  He was happy to find a pair and discuss with me the pros of his new stylish shoes.

Then I found these shoes for a mere $29.99.

 S3 assured me I should purchase them.  I forwent it to purchase gas for the suburban instead.  It made me quite sad.  But I think I may have found an even better pair at Sears (on line, because I couldn't get these shoes out of my mind.) 

But after shopping we visited Starbucks in the Target (such brilliance there) were I told my coffee drinking son I would get him his own Starbucks coffee.  He chose a strawberry shake drink.  I tried not to gag as I ordered my coffee.  S3 then kept close watch to see how to make delicious coffee.  I told him it would be quite alright with me if he learned to make barista yummy coffee.

 He just looked at me like I was crazy.

We had to visit Staples, where I found a fonts program and cheered a bit in the store (although I did not purchase it) and S3 then knew I was crazy.  

 I made it up to him by buying him a calculator.  He loves calculators, it's so crazy and cute. This one bends a million ways and looks all retro and he was thrilled with it and a package of pencils that looks like money.

I told him I would take him to lunch and he chose McDonald's.  I told him he could pick something new if he wanted and he chose here....

 And I knew he was the brilliant child I knew him to be.

He could not figure out why on earth they would toss peanuts on the ground but was rather thrilled with the fact he was going to eat STEAK for lunch.  I love his grin....

He ate every piece with the toothpick that said "medium".  He thought they were brilliant to serve the steak with a plastic toothpick.  I asked him about school and tried to treat him as grown up as possible.  He had a great time. I had a great time!

Special shout out to, Mario, our server at Logan's who was about as kind and nice as could be.  When S3 left his calculator behind, he flagged us down to return it.  And that was after he was as kind as could be, keeping us well fed and filling my iced tea about a zillion times. 

After lunch we drove home and he told me he would really like to do one more thing with me since it was just him and me.

Melt. My. Heart.

We played Blokus. He and I throughly enjoy this game and it was fun to play it with just him.  When the games were done, he curled up on the couch to watch a movie in the short amount of time before his brothers arrived home.

A great day.  A day I don't think we'll ever forget.  I am so glad we didn't get an ice storm and he had a cavity!  However, I should just take a day with one of my boys on a regular basis so they don't all try to get a cavity to get a day with mom.

They Thought They Would Pull a Fast One

So they wore the same shirt to school.

They giggled at the brilliance of this.

Of course, one of them went to school in glasses.

And neither of them are in the same class.

But the sheer brilliance of this!

They giggled all day long.

Leaf Jumping and Growing Up

It's Sunday morning here and we are not at church.

I have to admit, I'm thankful for the quiet day.

But the reason we are home is not a fun one.  S4 woke up with the flu.  He had tons of fun a friends house yesterday, he played hard all day and fell asleep exhausted in the middle of the living room last night.  This morning he woke up and said his tummy hurt.  

Since then he has gotten sick four times.

He is the most pitifully sweet sick kid.  He apologizes for throwing up, he smiles sadly at my worried gaze, he says please and thank you like he is some sort of inconvenience.  

As if.

I was laying all curled up in the chair watching over him as he dozed back off to sleep for a bit on the floor and happened to look out the window.

Outside S1 and S2 had gotten the pickup untarped from the leaf job Jake and did yesterday.  While the boys were gone we went and cleaned the leaves out of a sweet old lady's yard.  She believes only my husband can do the job right and just has the biggest crush on him.  When she met me for the first time yesterday she said surprised, "Oh, I know you! I've seen you on tv!"  

That was a first.

Anyway, it was dark and spitting rain when we got home.  We had pizza to bake and were starving hungry so we had just left the leaves for today.

S1 and S2 untarped them and then wandered off.  S3 took one look at that huge pile of leaves and knew just what to do.

 I watched him as he scaled the side of the big dodge and poised himself just right to dive into the leaves.

Over and over again he climbed the truck to jump in the leaves.  He would scale different sides of the truck to get an all over leaf experience.

 It was the funniest thing to watch as I lay curled in a chair waiting to see if my youngest was about to be sick again or just going to sleep.

And then I wondered, at what point did my two oldest get so old that they would not see a truck bed full of leaves for the fun it is?

I watched S3 throwing leaves up in the air and letting them fall down on him, not caring who seen him or if he was the only one in the bed of the truck, he was just taking the fun moment for what it was.

And my two oldest were "too old" to have this fun.

When did we all get too old to have this simple fun?

How did this happen?

I'm a Chicken Girl, not a Turkey Princess...Yet

My boys are always looking for pretty things for me.

I am currently using a leaf for a bookmark.  I have flowers and pretty leaves at various places around the house.  It's not uncommon for me to have rocks or nests on display.  I regularly sport a flower tucked behind my ear.

If the boys find it beautiful, they have to share it with me.

Today the two little boys brought me in a white chicken feather from S3's chicken...you recall the one that went to school with us?  Yes, that chickie is still doing well.

They gleamed joyfully as they handed the chicken feather up to me.  "For you, Moma!"

"Oh!"I exclaimed happily, "A new bookmark?"

"No!" S3 nearly spat out, shocked I would mention that.  "It's for your hair." (It was said "like duh!")

"Yah, your hair!" S4 agreed.

I wrapped my hair up in a pony tail and stuck it in the band.

The boys were so impressed.

"It's beautiful!" S3 informed me.

"But not pretty like an Indian Prin-preen-prencee...what's that word?" S4 asked.

"Princess?"

"Yah, that.  You aren't as pretty as that Indian girl" - S4 wrinkled his forehead in concentration - "Princess but...I'm not saying you look BAD, Moma, I'm just saying you don't look princess good."

"You'd need a turkey feather to look that pretty," S3 agreed.

"And maybe black hair.  But that would look....different," S4 added.

When S4 says "different" he really means "bad".

They posed for the picture and then ran outside, determined to find me a turkey feather so I could be a princess.

Because with this feather I am a Chicken Girl, not a Turkey Princess.  Yet.

Bunny out in the Wild

So we were going to the library but we stopped at the Visser's

And bunny was only for five bucks, easy peasy.

Then we went to the library.

Then I let him out to play for a little bit at the library.

Then he found his way out of the box.

But we finally found him again.

Moma's Note:


S3 was sure he wanted to talk about Bunny.  S4 agreed this would be a great idea.
"Call it Bunny out in the WILD," S4 told S3. "You can tell how Bunny survived in the wild outside!"


Because that happened.


We lost Bunny for a week.


It. Was. Awful.


S1 ended up setting up a live trap with carrots and nearly a week later
we caught Bunny.
There was much rejoicing and tears of joy then.
Since then, Bunny hasn't been the same bunny.


He's a bit of a wild one.
Where Whiskers Gray Dykstra lays around and can be played with in any sort of game (dump truck driver, farmer, hunter, the hunted...), Bunny gets a bit testy.


But we still love Bunny.


And our Library is not wild.


This was S4's title for S3 to tell the Bunny in the grass story.
But S3 loved the title so much, he kept it.


Whatcha gonna do?  The boys took over the blog!

Night Frogs

We went upstairs for bed and we saw a tree frog.  But Eli (S3) says he found him first.  So we brung it downstairs and showed it to Moma.

The frogs were on the kitchen iron roof.  They are always there.  So we do teamwork.  Abraham (S4) opens the window and Eli (S3) leans out over the roof and grabs frogs.

That's what we do.

We show them to Moma, and Moma is always happy, and then we let them go in the cement front porch.

Then we go to bed.

Moma's note:


I did not know they did teamwork and grabbed the frogs out the window.  I've been trying to figure this out because every night I send them up to bed and tell them ONLY emergencies should bring them downstairs.


Apparently frogs are emergencies.


They tell me the frogs are always just there in their bedroom.  And today the true story came out.


Sheesh, these boys of mine.

Dealing With Potty Talk

Today we went to the beach with some friends. S4 was doing the pee dance and had to go bad, but they were cleaning both bathrooms and we had to wait. His friend noticed and when asked what was wrong, S4 just said he had to get in the bathroom. Bad.

"Do you have to go number one or number two?"

S4 looked puzzled up at me. We have never done the numbers. For our family you have to go pee or guck and/or really bad. This number thing was new information to him. My friend explained it to him and he proudly then declared he had to go 1...and maybe 2 too. And then the dancing began again.

After the beach day where we all got nicely sunburned, S4 went home with my friend and her boys so the two little boys could have a play date. They had all sorts of fun and tonight we are all dragging after an adventure filled weekend has caught up with us.

And because we are sunburned too. That just sucks the life out of you.

In the tub the two littlest boys sat and S4 - who very honestly is alllllllllways talking - informed us he has learned what number one and two are and now we can say that so we don't have to use "potty talk".

S3 and S4 then began to discuss how cool this new information was to have.

Until S4 scrunched up his forehead and said "But I don't know what number 3 is...Moma, do you know what number 3 is?" He didn't even wait for an answer. "Oh, I know, I bet it's puke. I think number 3 is puke."

"Yah, yah!" S3 agreed. "And number 4 is fart."

"Number 5 is wet fart."

"Then number 6 is diarrhea."

Then began the discussion of diarrhea and don't you die from diarrhea because it's "DIE-arhea." So then S3 had to explain in great detail what diarrhea is and how you feel and how gross it all is.

Silence came upon the tub until S4 said, "Yup, it's a good thing we don't have to potty talk anymore now that we know the numbers."

Why, yes, your moma so agrees with you.

I think it's time for them all to go to bed now.

BB Gun Fun

All S3 wanted for his birthday was a BB gun. He was so excitedly wanted one that he was afraid to even say he wanted it. I'd ask him what he wanted and he would start to giggle. "If I tell you, you'll say 'no'," he'd say.

But the week of his birthday I called my local TSC, told them I was coming in with my four boys and needed them to have a BB gun at the front so that I could easily purchase and walk out with it before the boys knew what I was doing. I asked them if I could leave the boys looking unattended at the rabbit cages while I purchased the gun. My local TSC rocks and helped me pull this off so that there was a BB gun safely hidden under a blanket in the suburban so one little guy got to have the happiest birthday ever. (Thank you!)

He could hardly wait to go out and shoot something.
He had to wait until the next morning when S1 set him up a mini shooting range and strictly went over ever rule to follow for proper BB gun safety.

One day S1 will be teaching a gun safety class for kids, I am certain.

Anyhow....S3 spent the day with his big brothers learning to shoot his BB gun. S4 tagged along with a nerf cross bow.

My house looks well protected when you pull up, I guarantee you.

They headed off to "put meat on the table" and I was worried they might actually shoot something and I would actually have to cook something icky. I've cooked squirrel before...it doesn't look pretty no matter what plate you put it on.

Since he didn't get anything, S3 thought he should maybe practice with a moving target.

Enter his birthday balloons.

S4 thought this grand plan with him and together they headed out with a BB gun and a balloon. I was on the phone about a car with the insurance company...ironically...and watched them walk excitedly out the door and thought "this could be bad."

So, here i am in the house craning my neck out the windows to keep a sharp eye on them as they take the balloon down to the "shooting range" and....

Let the balloon go.

On a very unusually windy day.

I watched the balloon quickly drift off toward the house and since S3 knew he can't shoot toward the house, he just took off full force with S4 trying to grab the string on the balloon. It was a lost cause. S3 held his gun protectively as they jumped and leapt and finally realized it was gone.

Until it got stuck in the walnut tree right next to the house.

I thought we were gonna just be glad it has stopped. But apparently S3 realized this was his moment to shine.

He must shoot the balloon out of the tree.

He brought his bb gun up to his shoulder, aimed, and then aimed again.

Straight up.

"NO!" I hollered! "Don't shoot that gun straight up! You'll shoot your eye out!"

I had become that mother.

And that is when the insurance girl came back on. To her credit, she kept her cool...and when she asked me what my email was and I answered "life with four boys" she sorta snickered and said "Well, that explains the never a dull moment at your house!"

Why, yes, yes it does.

It's why I love my boys so.

Our New Family Members....

Some time ago, S3 got it in his mind that he wanted a bunny.

Years and years and before one boy was even born ago...S1 had some bunnies. We had a rabbit coop that had been abondened and neglected and is a montrosity and s3 decided to fix it up.

He figured he would do this with the tools of...a measuring tape and hammer (if anyone would give him a hammer).

My husband surprised me by telling me he thought it would be fine to get him a bunny.

So I contacted a truly wonderful girl we know who owns a rabbitry. Yes, really. I figured I could ask her to just be on the lookout for a bunny for us.

But the day I talked to her, she had two adorable non show worthy bunnies that were ready to go to a good home.

And apparently we fit the bill.

So, we actually left EARLY the very next morning and picked up two little bunnies.
One for S3 and one for S4 and we were so happy to see they were different colors.

The boys were just happy. As in, thrilled to pieces and could hardly contain their excitement.

We brought them into work for the day - you know, the library that I work at - and it wasn't long before one had escaped.

Do you know how many hiding places there are in a library. It reminded me of this book...The Boy Who Was Raised by Librarians. It's a great book, you should check it out. At a library. And then buy it.

But anyway...back to the library.

I should have known something was wrong when I seen the two boys crawling on the floor. "What are you doing?" I asked. They didn't answer. But they were being good so I let it go...until I realized they were being really good.

"What is wrong?" I demanded, quickly heading in their direction.

"We lost a bunny," S3 mumbled.

"What?" I screeched. "Boys! Find the Bunny!" I hollered. (In emergencies, you can be loud in a library.)

Alicia went into full out bunny search mode. "Shut the doors, watch the doors. Everyone search the floor...."

The bunny was hanging out next to a bookshelf in a tiny little corner. I think she was checking out the Clive Cussler books, personally.

We then told the boys that the bunnies had had a traumatic morning and they needed to nap and shut the box lid tight and all seemed well.

Until lunch time.

When Alicia was in the back eating lunch and the boys had to check their bunnies when suddenly the SAME bunny jumped all the way out of the box.

Alicia was in total shock.

We went into full bunny mode - again - and much laughing ensued as we wrangled the bunny again and put the lid on VERY tight.

Before we left we did a thorough search to make sure that all rabbit poo had indeed been cleaned up.

The boys waved goodbye to Alicia. "See you next week! We'll bring a bigger box next time for the bunnies."

I whispered "We won't bring the bunnies again" as we left.

I think our bunny adventures have just begun........

Stay tuned.

The Day We Took A Chicken to School

Some of you may know how this post you are about to read came about.

Recently, we were asked to bring in our children's pets to school for pet month. It was something S3 pondered over greatly. I recently blogged how he thought we needed new pets.

But, without much haggling, he decided we did indeed need to bring Chickie to school.

I so wish I could just write this post in Chickenese (which I am fluent in, by the way). But you may not understand it, so I shall tell it from my point of view.

The chicken did not understand why she was plucked from the chicken coop that morning. Nor does she understand why she is named Superman but that wasn't at the front of her brain that morning, I am sure.

But she does seem to love S3 so she settled down into the ultra cool AAESA bag where she was about to be shuffled off she didn't know where.

As soon as S4 seen the chicken in HIS green star bag - he freaked. He bawled his eyes out. He cried over the injustice of it all. I assured him I could wash it. He was certain it was ruined forever.

I then promised him a new one and we were back on track (and I had to send a hasty email out begging for a new free AAESA bag....)

And S3's smile was total happiness. The chicken didn't look too bad either.

But I may have taken this picture and wondered what on earth I was thinking.

My ever so sweet blogging and twitter friends caught wind of the fact I was taking a chicken to school (um, how could I NOT share that on twitter and facebook?) and I was instantly wished...

Chaos.

Yes, friends were hoping the chicken would see this as her chance to gain knowledge and run down the hallway to learn from every classroom she could while a happy, laughing class of first graders rushed to catch up, followed by a frantic looking mom with a panicked looking teacher close behind.

But we got there and all went well. Other than the shocked teachers that great us at the front school door who realized the chicken was in fact REAL, we hurried on into the class room where the class mates gathered around to be introduced to Superman the Hen.
And S3 was thrilled.
I glanced down to get my phone out to take a picture of how well things were going when I looked up to see this.....
The chicken was loose.

S3 figured she wanted to wander the room a bit. She seemed to, because she took a giant dump right there on the floor.

And all the kids held their noses and gagged.

When one of S3's best friends asked to hold Superman, S3 shrugged "sure" and swiftly picked up Superman the hen and placed him on his lap. This happened as the teacher was finalizing plans for a calf to come visit later in the day and I was dumping soap on the floor to help wash away the poop drop on the carpet when Superman decided to flap her wings and take to flight.....where she promptly fell back to the floor.

Can you imagine if she decided to roost high on a bar in the classroom? Can you imagine her pooping on the students?

I thought it would be a good time to leave.

And when I got back into the suburban, I took a long sip of my Biggby coffee and thought....how is that I am so blessed to have this life?

We Need New Pets For School

This week, S3's teacher sent home a note letting us know that the class would be studying pets. There is a form to fill out to see if parents would bring in the child's pet for a show and tell at school so the kids can talk about all the different pets and how to care for them.

I think S3's teacher is very brave.

Can you imagine having all sorts of pets in school?

But then S3 and I had a little chat and I had to send her an email thanking her for her brilliant idea.

S3 was making his lunch for the next day and we were discussing bringing pets into school. I asked him what he wanted to bring and he shrugged with an "I don't care" attitude. " I guess Josie," he stated, as though he HAD to bring a pet to school and it might as well be her even if he didn't want to bring her.

"Why Josie?" I asked, quite surprised but already forming in my head all the stories I could tell about her to make her seem interesting even if she wan't much to brag about.

"Well, Sadie would be too hard to take to school."

I imagined her hauling me down the hallways, hiding behind people, barking at everyone and had to agree that while she would be memorable, she would not be wise choice.

"You could bring a chickie," I suggested. S3 is my biggest fan of chickens, he and I share that bond. His eyes lit up momentarily and then his shoulders slumped. "But Chickie is so big now that no one would want to hold him."

Well, he had me there. I thought about running down to Family Farm and Home to get him a new one but you can't really do one baby chick. And I didn't really want a bunch of baby chicks on the porch right now. AND we are getting a little flock of grown chickens from a friend so we may not even need a baby chick....

Suddenly, his eyes got huge. His smile was bright. I mean, if you could actually see the turned on lightbulb above his head you would because he suddenly had a brilliant idea.

"I KNOW!" he nearly shouted and then he began to stammer over his words in excitement..."We could go and buy six cows and maybe a bull too because we need a daddy but six cows and we could milk them or whatever or we could ride them, yah, we could ride them or, no, we could buy six horses! Yah, we could buy six horses and we could ride the horses and we could take them to the school for pet day and we could ride the horses to round up the cows and we could take them in...no, that won't work...oh, I know! We could ride the horses, one for each of us, to round up the cows and we could herd them by the window and then my whole class could see our cows and horses."

I was stunned into silence.

"Can we, Moma?" he pleaded, taking my silence as a good sign of his sheer brilliance. "Can we get a get just six cows and just six horses. And a bull. But six cows and six horses? Please?"

I was still stunned so he grasped at "Aunt Ginger could help us."

Aunt Ginger who works on a cow farm and has horses.

"Well, we'd have to run that one by Daddy," I finally said.

And then I quickly typed an email to his teacher telling her what sort of a mess I was in now because of her "bring a pet to class" assignment.

To which she responded with great laughter. And this email response to my "thank you, thank you very much..."

I AM LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY!!

Now THAT would make a great blog post!! (Of course questions would follow

as to the credibility of my teaching, but hey, what could I say?!!)

Remind Eli that it does say one pet per student. And, if he considers

cows and horses his pets, then I'd love to meet them (or one of them!).

Oh, you're quite welcome!!

So I did blog about it. And if anyone has suggestions for me...send em along. Before I have to find six cows and a bull and six horses.

But to be fair, I did ask him the next morning if S3 would tell his teacher what he was hoping to bring in and he informed me he was now thinking of kittens. Kittens would be much easier to work with.....

Though not so blogworthy, you know?

It's Spring Break - S3's Near Death Experience

Saturday was a rough day for me. I'll sum it up to say that by 9:20 in the morning, I was curled up in my bed and bawling my eyes out.

Yup, I really was. It really was that kind of a day.

When my phone rang a bit later, I seen I had to answer it. When my friend heard my voice, she immediately asked me what was wrong but I played it off telling her I had a cold. Which I totally do, so, technically I didn't lie to her.

She chatted happily away with me and soon I found myself giggling a bit and soon I was spilling my whole morning...right down to the crying fest I had just before she had called. When I finished spilling my guts, we both started giggling.

Her phone call meant more to me than she could possibly understand. Friends are the greatest.

As I chatted with her, I began making the Pioneer Woman's cinnamon rolls because, well, the day now called for something to sweeten it up.

Just the two youngest boys were home and they were outside playing with their chickens.

S3 hadn't held a chicken in a while (this picture is form last year when the boys tried to hypnotize a chicken) and decided it was time to get reacquainted with them.

Suddenly, S4 came running into the kitchen. "MOMA!!!! COME QUICK!!! E-WHY IS HURT. BAD!!!!!"

This is never good.

I stepped out of the kitchen and could hear S3 - Eli - screaming.

"I don't want to die, I want to LIVE." Live was emphasized as though by saying "live!" he would truly live and not die.

"What happened?" I asked S4, suddenly very concerned and thinking a bandaid may not work on this injury.

"He stepped on a nail and it went right into his foot.

Right.

In.

His.

Foot, Moma.

It's bad."

All the while S3 is still screaming "I don't want to die, I want to LIVE."

The boys had gotten into the chicken coop, crawled out the chicken sized door and were in the chicken yard. S3 was sitting on the ground, his shoe off, his foot in his hand and huge tears falling from his blue eyes.

One look at me and he got even more loud and panicked. "I don't want to die, I want to LIVE," he seemed to plead with me.

"You'll live," was all I said as I helped him out of the pen.

"But there is blood and I don't want to die, I want to LIVE."

I was really trying not to laugh at him. But it was getting nearly impossible.

I scooped him up in my arms, carried him to the house and we doused his foot with hydrogen peroxide and then set him in the tub to soak in some soapy water.

He was still muttering "I don't want to die...." but it wasn't so intense anymore.

Since it was SATURDAY...all traumatic things occur on a Saturday when the pediatric office is closed...I facebooked message our pediatric nurse who now drives Ambulance. If anyone could help me know if I needed to rush him in, she would. And she, being the sweetest most kindest nurse ever took time from her yard clean up on her day off and talked me through it all so I could, in fact, assure him that even Nurse Sherrie said he would live.

We bandaged up his foot with neosporine and gauze and gauze tape (I have boys, these things are always on hand...but I now realize I need to stock up a bit more as spring has arrived.). We then let him wear S2's socks (um, an un-named person in this house hasn't folded socks in some time, apparently) and knowing he would make his older brother mad by wearing his socks, he was all smiles.

And his new shoes from his good friend Jacob weren't damaged so he would wear them again.

And cinnamon rolls were being made.

So his life was wonderful again and he went on living.

Daddy burned the board that had the nail in it that he stepped on. Because, can you imagine if a chicken had stepped on that?

That chickie mighta died.

Because Eli almost did.

Just ask him.

The Impossible Case of S3 and His Missing Homework

S3.

Everyone loves him because he is so loveable. He hugs and kisses and back rubs and snuggles and smiles and is so darn adorable.

He is also our antagonist. Our sneaky boy. The one that is always in the middle of the "WHAT is going on in here?"

And since school has started up since Christmas, he is our homework skipper.

I ask him if he has homework, he assures me he has none. This weekend, he shoved his back pack under the seat of the suburban so we didn't find it till Monday morning.

This is also the same boy who is not getting dressed, not getting his lunch made and loosing everything he needs for school every. single. morning. Even if it was all at his chair waiting for him the night before.

I keep waiting for his great teacher to send home a note where he has been warned or punished or something for not bringing home his homework.

And honestly, she could have all along but I would have never known.

So I sent her an email begging the sweet, kind, fun teacher who I think the world of to be as mean and strict as she needed to be to S3 to get his homework done. She and I worked up a plan, because, she totally rocks and we work well together like this.

I worked late at the library. When I got home, I had a brief moment with hubby and I asked him how it had gone with the boys. "GREAT, we even got all our homework done."

"That IS great!" I exclaimed. "Even with Eli?"

He paused a moment to think on S3. "No, he said he had homework but he couldn't find it." He began chuckling. "The funny thing is that he said that he has to have it done by Friday or he has to stay in for recess. But he is not worried about that since he is sure Friday is SIX days away."

Yah, his math figuring may be part of his homework he has been hiding.

So, his teacher and I will be scheming again........

Making Ginger Bread Houses with S3

Yesterday I mentioned that I had gone to school to make Ginger Bread houses with S3. It occurred to me that I had not told you about this experience.

I think I only have one more "Christmasy" post after this. Then I think we are caught up. But since Christmas is a busy time of the year and I did not blog much then....I hope you all don't mind.

On the day of my hubby's birthday and the glorious cake, when I was still trying to figure out how to get the said cake, I went to the school to make ginger bread houses with S3.

Amy, over at Our Sassy Family, was laughing. Because she had made a ginger bread creation just before this day and it had been.....blogworthy. You can read about it all HERE, make sure you check her youtubes too that relate to the story. I could hear her laughter and "good luck" and "I WANT PICTURES" ringing in my head as I walked in the school door.

Late.

Because of the cake planning.

But I arrived and Eli shot me a huge smile so all was well.

Using empty milk cartons (remember this, it's key) we frosted them, put on graham crackers and decorated them. Sounds (and messy) enough....

Except that frosting was super yummy and hard to resist.

S3 had an idea how he wanted this to look and I was not going to get in his way. He had a lot of fun and was deep in though with his tongue sticking out a bit of the side of his mouth in deep concentration - or licking the remnants of the frosting.

Notice the "E" for Eli.

He was VERY proud of that!

We brought it home and displayed it on the shelf in the dining room. I noticed S1 keeping an unusually close eye on it. Finally he asked "When are we going to eat that?"

In his mind, there is no point in having good food go to waste! ;)