Haz Mat suits in motion

It's been a while since I posted a video and, as you can see, there has been a dramatic change in weather since the last video post. Just some outdoor fun, not terribly interesting.

Bikes, Barnyards and Bombs

I included this picture because I have no recollection of taking it and, therefore, have to wonder which child was taking liberties with the Kodak. Strange subject matter: the stuff of life, my life anyway.

As the flu claimed its first victim (only girl), the rest of us made animals out of playdough and Q-tips. Jacob's rooster is on the right and my hedgehog is on the left.

My rooster, cow and hedgehog. Benjamin claims that they are his and that the cow is a pig (peeeg).

The Barnyard with one of the real animals in the background. (Yes, he is wearing his favourite and omni-present ladybug boots, and about to wreak havoc in the Q-tip box.)

The boys wearing their hazardous-material suits.

Ben refusing to pose.

Hannah watching the activities from her perch. Yes, that is total dejection on her face and her hand is indicating a sore tummy. She is fine today.

Sewers are always a source of interest.

See.

Joe has developed an obsession with bike helmets lately. He insists on wearing one whenever we go out to play. I have stopped fighting him and I now just plunk it on his head when we go out. I do wonder what people driving by think.

He does look cute in Tour-de-France gear. Come to think of it, he looks more like part of a bomb-defusing team.

Twinlet Musings

I am catching this conversation mid-stream. Hannah just woke up from a nap to find Jacob making invitations to their birthday party. He is planning on inviting 35 people! Earlier in the afternoon he showed me the seating plan - quite detailed. Hannah announced that he must be inviting kids to his seventh birthday party as mom had already said that only a few kids could come to their sixth birthday. The conversation went as follows:
H: Rules are rules, Jacob. You can't invite that many people.
J: Yes, I can.
H: No, mom said that we can only have a few kids because there is not enough time to get the party ready because we have to clean up the basement so that it is perfect. Those are the rules.
J: I don't need to listen to those rules.
H: No, God made the rules and then He gave them to the adults and not the kids.
J: But God said that we are turning six and I can have a birthday party.
H: No, God said that we could come out on April 17th and that's who decided about our birthday.
J: No, Hannah. The doctor decided that he wanted us out on April 17th because he didn't want twins getting out on April 30th.
H: Well, God made our birthday become true and He made the rules and rules are rules and we can't have a sixth birthday party.
J: Fine, I'm ripping up these invitations.
H: Good.
J: But it was still the doctor who decided when we were going to be born and who told mom not to run so that we wouldn't die.
H: Yeah, that's right. Mom needed the energy for us and had to look after us. She also shouldn't walk too much so that she can relax her baby.
J: Yeah, relax more and run less.
Somehow the whole conversation became an admonition to me not to run while pregnant. I can't guarantee that this is verbatim but I tried my best. I found it hilarious. And, no, I am not pregnant. I read this aloud to the twinlets and they found it gut-wrenchingly funny, no joke. They are now reading this aloud in play format; if I were homeschooling, this would count as a drama mark.

Sick again

I'm embarrassed to admit that we are sick again. Has anyone else noticed that the stomach flu seems to be the theme of our family since moving to our new town? I can only imagine that we might all be dead by now if it weren't for the copious amounts of cod liver oil consumed by this family unit! I do believe that the sick mama in yesterday's post left us a gift and Hannah was the first to open it; as usual, the stomach flu has a nocturnal clock and delights in waking mommy in the deepest of sleeps:
"Mommy, I think I'm going to be sick."
"Who's speaking to me?" It is quite dark in our bedroom.
"Hannah. My head really hurts." And so it goes. Little girl is down and out and I imagine the boys will follow as the week continues. I should be thankful that this wasn't last week. So, here are some pictures of another sick day at our house.
Joe reading about a bald boy from Quebec; you guessed it, Caillou.

Hannah smiling between bouts of nausea.

What Ben and Jacob did while I showered. They're still in there.

Ben looking particularly wild. Jacob is still wearing his hospital bracelet; he is saving it for show and tell at school.

Tales from the crib.

Mayhem

Jacob, Hannah, Joseph, Emma, Daniel

Hannah, Joseph, Emma, Daniel, Jacinta, Christopher, Benjamin, Hannah, Nancy, Jacob

Dave who, mercifully, just goes with the flow.

I've been a bit behind in my blogging this week. However, considering the fact that I can't remember whether or not Jacob had surgery last week or the week before, I think that I can be pardoned for my failure to post anything new. The following pictures will hopefully fill you in on why my head is swimming. Friends of ours had to move house this weekend. They have 6 children (1.5-11 years) and one on the way. We agreed to take the oldest and youngest during the move on Saturday. One thing led to another and soon pregnant mama was also here set up in the basement bedroom trying to recover from the stomach flu. The only child that was allowed to know of her presence was the oldest. Papa soon arrived with 2 more kids and then 2 more kids and, well, you get the picture:) I asked them for supper as I had enough ground beef de-frosting to make a big pot of spaghetti; some french bread and the makings of a greek salad. Soon enough we had 10 kids sitting around the table for supper. Dave and I sat back in awe and made jokes about friends of his from seminary whose celibate vocations would have been more than confirmed by our dining-room table.

I soon realised that it would be easier for sick mama to keep sleeping away in her basement abode and that, perhaps, the rest of the family might find our below-ground digs a good place to bed down for the night. Alas, while our family of 6 slept above ground, a family of 8 (plus one womb dweller) passed the night below. Our kids were thrilled to have their first sleepover on such a grand scale and asked if it could please, please, please be repeated. I think we'll stick with 4 kids for a while. Nevertheless, our friends are a wonderful family (and very blond as you will see) and we were glad to help them out during their mini upheaval. Enjoy the photos.

Seeing Straight

We have re-emerged from life at the children's hospital. Jacob made it through his eye surgery although he is in a bit of pain and can open his eye only slightly. His doctor told me that if Jacob is unable to open his eye, I had better give him a call. His eye looks more like a slit at this point than an oval but it is still open. Please, no more trips to the big city this week.
The kids are all back together again and quite happy to be reunited. At the moment they are playing a game in which both of the younger boys are dogs and the twins are the owners. I don't think that Joseph quite understands his role. We are also recovering from a cold that hit us hard on Sunday but mercifully spared Jacob. Thus, his surgery was able to proceed. He told his doctor that mommy had prevented a cold by giving him lots of gross plant medicine (Deep Immune, St. Francis Herb Farm). It really works.
I brought a giant Jane Austen book with me to the hospital but, strangely enough, we knew three of the patients and their families from life in our last small town, and thus the book served as nothing but dead weight in the diaper bag.
The highlight of the day for me was that I was able to accompany Jacob into surgery until he fell asleep under the influence of strawberry-flavoured gas. I was suited up in cap, gown and booties. I didn't have to don gloves but I was manhandled by a volunteer so that I didn't touch anything and contaminate the OR. Perhaps there are parents that just feel the need to run their fingers over the scalpels on display. The one inconsistency with this process was that Jacob was allowed to wear his running shoes into the OR. He jumped onto the surgical table leaving dirt all over the sheet. He then swept it onto the floor with his hand and lay down. I shyly queried if he should take his shoes off and the nurse said, "It's up to him." Hmmm, maybe mom germs are far worse than kid ones. Anyway, it was wonderful to be able to hold his hand as he drifted off while naming the trains from Thomas the Tank Engine. At one point, the anaesthesiologist asked me about the patch of eczema under his lip. I responded, "Someone likes to eat snow." Jacob, not yet sufficiently drugged, murmured through his mask, "Don't talk about it." Mommy has already begun to embarrass her son. The minute he was asleep they rushed me out of the OR and guided me back to where Dave and Joseph (also in need of sleep meds) waited.
We then ate lunch in shifts. I took Joseph to the cafeteria but switched to the lobby as the caf was filled with doctors and medical personnel with whom I suddenly felt quite shy and a little embarrassed that my baby was about to eat pizza from Pizza Pizza for lunch. The lobby was far less intimidating.
After lunch, Jacob's doctor came out to tell us that all was well and a little while later I was called in to be with Jacob as he woke up. I arrived to find a sore and tired Jacob who, through tears, asked if he could please go home. He then requested "Do-a-deer" and we passed the time with song until we were moved to the final recovery room where we could all wait until discharge. Jacob consumed a few popsicles, immediately felt nauseous and was given Gravol intravenously. He then slept until discharge.
We spent supper and the night with good friends. Thank you to Jacob's godparents. Dave also treated the little man to a Dairy Queen treat and some alone time with Daddy. All is well and, if the eye stays open and uninfected, on the road to recovery.
One last thing: immediately prior to surgery I was asked to identify which eye was the one in question.
"Left eye, mom?"
"Umm, yeah." I was suddenly overwhelmed by my lack of spatial sense and brought my hand up to Jacob's eye and checked to see which of my hands was wearing a wedding ring.
"Are you sure?"
With a desperate glance at Dave who nodded calmly, I responded with assurance, "Yes, left eye." The nurse then took an indelible marker and left an X above Jacob's left eye. See, Mom, it's not just in Nova Scotia.

Natural Fun

There are definite advantages to having a farm in the family. This is the gravel pit where Grandpa Mike stores lumber, hay bales and firewood. Since his retirement as an accountant, the gravel pit is also the home to a sugar shack used to make maple syrup. As a result, there is no need for a school trip to the sugar bush for these kids.

Benjo lagging behind with his Mommy in tow.

Past the hay bales.

Past the firewood.

And on to the sugar shack.

Joseph insisted on parting ways with the backpack and walking on his own up the hill and into the bush. In this shot, he will have nothing to do with the offer of his father's hand. As a side note, we have never used the safety straps in the backpack as none of our children ever showed the desire to launch themselves out of the paternal roost. Then we met Joseph. Luckily, when the ejection took place, I was standing next to Dave and was able to catch the flying baby. Joseph's reaction was to look slightly perturbed at both of his parents for trying to ensure his well being.

Flying solo.

Joseph also has a habit of discarding his winter apparel. Alas, I am on his trail.

Grandpa and his friend, Herman, were beginning to install the taps and buckets. J and H carried the buckets from tree to tree with offers of help. Jacob became increasingly silly as time wore on and began to suggest that the saplings be tapped. Oldest son found this extremely funny as the taps are longer than the saplings are wide. Sigh, northern Ontario humour.

I believe that Joseph is searching for the ejection button. Remind me to sue the backpack carrier company for not equipping the pack with a parachute.

Checking for sap.

Riding on the tractor with Herman.

Ben thanking God for tractors. No wonder Fr. Galen is his godfather.

Short, Dark and Handsome

Our little Benjo is normally quite a cautious little fellow who easily toes the line and prefers to follow directions and do what is expected of him. No, not boring; just easy and nice to be with. However, as he heads toward the age of three, a little more of his personality is beginning to rear its head.
We had the pleasure of sharing a meal last night with some good friends of ours who have four beautiful, blond daughters under the age of seven. (Thank you to the E family.) Who knew that Ben would so enjoy their company. He thrived on their giggles and did all he could to capture their attention at table. I was a little surprised as Ben's forays into the world of class-clown were, until last night, reserved for immediate family.
He was obviously comfortable in the presence of these fine ladies as he also performed one of his newest and slightly annoying tricks while playing in their driveway: he peed in front of them, much to the chagrin of his father. Dave, I was told later, would have rushed the little lad inside to the toilet when he began to pull down his pants over the rose bed. Nevertheless, it was the slightly incompetent maternal unit that, assessing the situation, allowed him to water the flowers as she just didn't think that he could make it indoors. His gracious hosts stared with wide eyes and one declared, "I never saw anyone do that before."
This new affinity for peeing outdoors started on one of our endless trips home from the big city when he declared loudly that he needed to use the facilities. We informed our young man that the closest facilities were located on the shoulder of the road. I really thought that he would balk at the suggestion. However, the proposition produced a glint in his eye and he grasped at this new opportunity. We have created a monster. Now, when Ben needs to pee, he goes to the front door and loudly pronounces that he has to pee on the road. When playing in the driveway, he frequently pulls down his pants and pees onto whatever happens to be located directly below. His aunt tried out a new technique of holding him at a 45 degree angle to the ground so that at least his pants could be spared the onslaught of liquid. I guess I just didn't expect this from the little man.
'Tis the season for playing outdoors and getting Ben dressed is now accompanied by strict warnings that the indoor washroom must be used when he needs to pee. The little lad cocks his head and answers, "I pee on the road, Mommy. Heh, heh."

The week that will be

Previous to living in our small town, signs of Spring included: robin sightings, the first snow-melt revealing the location of lost toys and garden implements, crocuses poking through the grass and that wonderful earthy smell in my children's hair. Now that I have been resident in the Bay for a little over three months, I have become aware of a previously unknown yet vital portion of the season of rebirth: the first few weeks of March equal "Get-your-ice-shack-off-the-Bay-before-it-sinks-real-fast" season. I have noticed that there are some who haul their fishing abodes off the melting lake at the first sign of coming warmth. However, there are those who, in my humble opinion, are really pushing their luck. I imagine that one's approach to the removal of one's ice shack is somehow indicative of one's approach to life. If Dave and I had an ice shack I am really not sure if it would still be on the water or not...
On to other subjects.
It is March Break here and that means that everyone is home. Dave and the three oldest have been busy helping Grandpa Mike set up the sugar bush for maple syrup production while I have been rushing around arranging a two week period in which we will have made 4 round trips to the big city (2.5 hours each way). The first two trips were for the collection and deposit of my mother at the airport (entirely worth the sacrifice). The last two trips are relating to Jacob and his poor, beleaguered eye. Jacob first had cataract surgery at the age of 17 months. Long story. Short story: he has a lazy eye that is being corrected on the 23rd of March. Thus, we have two pre-op appointments tomorrow, and surgery and a post-operative appointment next Monday and Tuesday. I have no idea what a pre-op appointment one week prior to surgery could be for as his last pre-op was to check his vitals, overall health and wellbeing one day before surgery. Such an appointment a week before surgery doesn't make much sense to me since (using our family as a case history) a cold or flu can hit much faster than one week before surgery. Our eye doctor also told us that his time of surgery can change up to the last minute. "Therefore," he asked us, "Please keep a cell phone on at all times the day before as I will probably call you. Most likely in the morning."
"But wait," said I, "The day before is Sunday and we will be at Mass."
Husband gently kicks wife under doctor's table. "The cell will be on," he responds with efficiency. Wife realises she often lives in a different world than most people.
Soooo, say a prayer for us and enjoy the week. Despite the running around, we have lots of good friends to spend time with and we are looking forward to having Daddy home, the family together, the snow melting, the sap running and Easter ever approaching.

Teeth

Jacob lost his second tooth today at lunch. Actually, I admit to aiding the process and oldest son was rather brave as I tugged the tooth from its bearings. Dave suggested that I save this tooth as the last one is lost somewhere in the house. Hannah reminded me that the other tooth is not lost - the tooth fairy has it. I then reminded her that the tooth fairy had been caused some confusion when she last arrived as Jacob's tooth had been left under Hannah's pillow. Fortunately, for Jacob, the tooth fairy had taken him at his word and left behind her reward despite leaving empty handed. Jacob suggested that I should write a note to the tooth fairy letting her know that I, Jacob's mother, would be keeping this tooth for posterity (my words, not his). He also decided to write his own note in which he would grant the tooth fairy full possession of his third lost tooth and any others that followed. I asked him to fetch me a paper and pencil and he ran off to scavenge for my writing needs. When he arrived back he passed me the utensils with a request:

"Mom, please don't write the letter."

"What do you mean?" I, of the illegible scrawl, queried.

"I don't think the tooth fairy will be able to read it."

I will leave a note with our blog address printed carefully under my son's pillow tonight.

Hannah's Musings

I simply had to post this. Grandma Julie showed Hannah a beautiful bracelet that Grandpa Nick had bought her for Christmas. The showing sent Hannah into a woeful "How come I don't have any jewelery?" whine. She snapped out of the whine quickly and countered her self-pity by making a birthday list for herself. The list consists of the following:
1. Bracelet
2. Necklace
3. Nun suit ("It's OK if you can't find one, Mom.")
4. Veil ("That's what nuns wear on their heads, right?")
5. Painting rocks
6. Watch
7. Clothing
Feel free to send anything before the 17th of April...

Yet another Friday the 13th

Life is tough; Monopoly's tougher. (She is banging her head against the table as her brother demands yet more rent.)

Only girl wishing youngest boy a good night.

In other news: maternal grandmother's visit is drawing to a close, t.w.s. (tears will squirt). I imagine the blogging will be a bit more regular as mommy finds herself sans adult accompaniment. But, wait, it is March Break next week and thus Daddy will be holding classes at home - we'll see what the holiday brings us.

It's been a while

Watching Allison Krauss on YouTube.

Really watching Allison Krauss on YouTube.

The sheep have been shorn and one of them isn't too happy, "Baa, Baa."

Hannah took this picture and told me afterwards, "It's really good, Mom. You don't even have any spots on your forehead." Thanks, little girl.

Spring

As I look out the window I can see flurries falling; however, if the weatherman is to be believed, we're going up to 9 degrees tomorrow. Can I hear an Amen? I took the boys out for a walk this morning and saw some real signs of Spring (although it took Benjamin to point one of them out to me). We were walking down by the lake and I was zoned out as I stared at the many ice shacks that dot the horizon.
Ben suddenly said, "What dat, Mommy?"
I said, "What?"
Ben: "That."
Instead of continuing this circular conversation, I decided to pause and discern what had caught his attention. It didn't take long to hear the birdsong. Ahhh, lovely birdsong, you unburden my soul. There were a few calls being sung, but the one that always hails the arrival of Spring for me is the "Dee Dee" sung as a descending minor third. Think the opening of Hey Jude. At least that's what I thought, and that's what Mr. Tilley taught me way back when. I never excelled at aural perception and my answers were more often guesses based on the fact that I couldn't seem to hear past the beating of my heart as I waited in fear for the intervals played at the beginning of music theory class ... but, that's another story.
So, here's to the (maybe) start of Spring. My mom is coming for a week's visit on Saturday. Hannah asked, "When Grandma Julie gets here, will it be Spring?" In more ways than one, little girl.

Airbags

I found this on a new blog that I have found. I just think it's funny; plus, I would love to hit a Mercedes with a handbag.

Lenten craftiness

As usual, I am starting my Lenten craft activity after the start of the season. Better late than never. The kids and I made a crown of thorns out of flour, salt and water. The thorns are toothpicks and the kids are allowed to take one out in exchange for a good deed. They (hopefully) begin to understand that their good deeds can help to ease the sufferings of Jesus. Of course, I had no toothpicks and had to break apart bamboo skewer sticks into pieces to make jagged thorns. This also resulted in not enough thorns to make it through Lent and therefore the rule is that the kids can take out one thorn for a day of good deeds. After they go to bed, I then attempt to re-insert the thorns .... at what point the crown will look any different is something of which I am still unsure.This is Jacob's crown. He had no toothpicks so he inserted raisins as (his words) little devils. He said that the little devils would fall off whenever he does a good deed. Boys.

This is an answer to my sister's challenge to take a self portrait and post it no matter what it looks like. I am even dressed liturgically... Yes, I am wearing an apron over my purple hoodie.

This is what Joe did while we made our crowns (raisins and apricots). After supper that night Dave couldn't figure out where all the raisins had gone. I told him that he should give them up for Lent which made me remember my resolve not to criticise my husband for Lent ... how quickly we fall.

Little Hannah making her creation which she covered with stars instead of little devils. Girls.

Jacob rolling out his crown. If only that sunlight meant it was warm outside.

Benjamin making his 'bagel'. The crown of thorns before the thorns and prior to baking. Post baking: it is stuck to the cookie sheet as Jacob proved when he held it upside down. As a result, it is sort of, well, ugly and I can see that it will be a Lenten sacrifice for me just to keep it on the table. That's all, folks. Now I have to try and get the three of us outside for a morning run as I just couldn't get out of bed before 7 am this morning. Brrrrr.

Language

Two thoughts on language for today. I have never spoken Russian nor have I understood it; however, I did take Russian literature and history throughout university. All of these classes were taught by professors who regularly broke into Russian and, thus, I gained a feel for the Slavic languages. It is with this knowledge in mind that I have decided that Joseph is far better suited to Russian than to English. He has a deep guttural baby voice and I keep expecting baby phrases from Dostoevesky rather than Beatrix Potter. Perhaps the Slavic blood runs strong in this boy.
My second language thought for the day is concerning Benjamin. Little Benjo is at the 'rapidly advancing' stage in his language development. I find this stage absolutely fascinating as he makes gains in his language daily, if not hourly. I can see firsthand as he absorbs what he hears and then tries to use it with those around him. Of course, this phase is not without humour as many of his attempts are missteps at best. Lots of his words are amalgamations of two words or contain a mistake in one of the vowels or consonants. I often wish that I could replace many of my own words with Benjo's versions. The latest Benjoism was yesterday when he picked up his food to smell it. He happily pronounced, "I'm snoofing, Mommy. I'm snoofing!" I think that life would be far more enjoyable if we could stop and snoof the flowers; if I had the snoofles instead of a cold; and if Sammy was better at snoofing than he is at chewing children's toys.
And regarding the above picture: that is a real baby behind that book ... "Let no one despise your youth..."; "I have studied your word from my youth..." :))

Supper Pirates (Jacob's Title)

The twins couldn't stop laughing after watching themselves on film. Jacob is still hiccuping and Joe is still not saying, "Arrrrr". And, yes, Dave's cameo role did consist of him reading the sports section of the paper: he has amazing powers of concentration in the midst of craziness. Sorry it's so dark - one of the dining room lights has burnt out.