If Only He'd Listened

or his mother had followed through. Where would George Lucas have taken things?

Heard in our house last night:

"Light Sabers are NOT FOR HITTING! If you cannot be gentle with that thing, I will take it away. You know not to hurt other people's bodies."

That was me talking. Sternly. To all 42 inches of Darth Vader.

It was a bit hard not to laugh.

You Can Say THAT Again!

One of Peanut's most uttered phrases and definitely her longest one:

"Don't poop in the tub!"

Learned after a few nights in a row of her doing the exact opposite.

Amen, Sister, amen.

A is for

Buddy came in with three words: a solid "no!", a word to drink (deedee) and a word to eat (nom-nom). He could not hold a fork or crayon or his attention long enough to color.

Imagine his surprise today when his new obsession with the Magnadoodle brought this:

He was so excited he scared the cats away.

"APPLE!!!!! My apple!!!"

You don't even have to turn your head all wonky and squint funny to see that he's right.

Photo of the Day

Introducing...

Five year old accurately assessed the other day that I have nicknames for everyone. They've taken a while to settle and he thinks his should be different than what I think it should be, but whatever, we'll let him win this round.

Here we are:

Welcome "Little D". I have no idea who he thinks called him this in his past life because he cannot tell me. He often introduces himself like this: "My first name is ____ and my last name is ____, but some people call me Little D." Since he's the biggest of the group, "Little" doesn't exactly roll off my tongue. But he answers to "D" just as well. D is 5 and chatty and all boy and a really awesome dude.

This is our Buddy. D, who has a very loving, compassionate side, calls him this when Buddy is upset. Buddy is two and getting less and less crabby. He loves nail polish and blocks and singing Elmo in the car and copying (good or bad) what the other two do. All. The. Time. Buddy has the best little crooked smile that is coming out more and more each day. (You can't see it on his feet though.)

And here's Peanut, our just turned two year old. Who clearly thinks she rules the roost (and her brother does nothing to help dispute this). Peanut likes to be carried and puts babies to bed on their tummies and covers them with washcloths and can sit and pat them for several minutes. She's a holy terror in the car and for about 30 minutes before bedtime, but is otherwise a sweet little addition to the house.

As an aside, three children thought it was the most hysterical thing ever to have their feet say "cheese" last night. So much that they were so wound up at bedtime that we had to read an extra story to calm down.

Happy Feet.

Over the Hump

I finally got around to changing my "feet" picture on Facebook to this:

I'd like to say that I was just waiting for my polish to be redone and the boys' blue polish to wear off. And maybe that was some of it. But a lot of it was just me getting used to new kids and feeling like "me plus three" really equaled "us". 

Getting new kids is hard.  There is some level of fun and excitement to figuring out the new additions but there's also a lot of junk to get through. No kid gets pulled for a "small" reason...the stories are always hard to hear. I remind myself that every single thing is new to the kids here. Every smell, routine, place, person they meet--everything. They have so much to adjust to, yet the only change for me is them.

If someone were to ask me what the hardest thing is, it'd be this: The fear that these kids won't ever feel right--them with you, you with them, them in their own skin, you in your own.  There comes a time with every new transition that you hope the well that is love for other people's kids has not dried up. You worry that your new family will never run like the old, well oiled machine before it. You wake up each morning with strangers who are wondering who rocked their world so much and why on earth they are here in the first place.  But you allow yourself to get caught up in the logistics of getting them settled--teaching routines, making appointments, keeping up with CPS stuff--and then one day, when you come up for air, you realize that yes, these little beings are just as cool as the fifth or the ninth or the seventeenth one was and that your mama claws can come out for them when needed and that you actually enjoy them, warts and all. You are reassured that the well has not run dry.

And finally, you feel right in your own skin again and know that you are over the hump.

Year Five

Another year already?

This year, I am thankful for:
My Fab Four and the opportunity to continue loving on the Sisters
More space, in the form of our new house, that gives us much more room to roam, run, and make messes
Caseworkers and family service workers, old and new, who stick around on the ride with me
And three newbies who are turning out to be pretty fun additions to the kids I carry in my heart

The road goes on forever, and the party never ends.

Or so it seems. Here's to the start of year six, twenty-five kids and counting...

Happy Birthday, Miss Two!

A little peanut turned two today. We had to celebrate exactly how her brother did--at Chuck E. Cheese. I am quite confident I have never been to Chuck E. Cheese's twice in a month. Still, the birthday girl and brothers had a great time. We came home to cake (too disastrous to photograph) and presents. Someone is now the proud owner of two baby dolls, baby bottles and a stroller. I think if she could have slept with the stroller, she would have.

Happy Birthday Sweet Two Year Old! I'm looking forward to watching you grow!

Family Tree

Current three and the Sisters were at the park yesterday. A mom apparently asked Big Sister if she was the new guy's sister. Her answer (not in its entirety but pretty close):

"No, he's not my brother. He's HER brother and HIS foster brother. And HER foster brother is HIM and HIS foster sister is HER and HIS foster brother is HIM. And that girl in the blue jacket? She's MY sister. But not my foster sister."

The lady then asked a question that I couldn't hear.

"No, we used to be foster kids but now we aren't. She's still our mom but now we're just friends."

Pretty sure the lady gave up after that.

Shoe Fetish

His name would be the Town Crier if it weren't already taken. But boy do my shoes make him happy!

For the Record

Yes, she can get out of the pack n play by herself.

Awesomeness.

Poor Eyesight

"Why are you wearing bunny ears, Mister?" says me.
"These aren't bunny ears! They're LASER EYES! Take a picture!" says he.

So I did.