My Kids

"Wait!" You're thinking. "Hold everything!! You forgot number 20!" No no. Never fear. I didn't forget, but I am taking a small break from old listy list for a moment because, with all this talk about me (actually, I don't even remember what on earth I have been blathering on about for this list assignment, but I think it has probably mostly been about me), you have probably all nearly forgotten them:

Oh, and him:

Yes, my five little kids. They are cute. Bless them. Last night Abe made a giant "game fort" for them to play board games in. Not a bad "blizzard" night activity. There was some trouble initially when Penny was not expressly invited to be in the game fort, and, even after she was, there were a few tense moments when her feet seemed to . . . not so accidentally . . . mess up Daisy's game pieces. Still, all in all, they had a fun time, and I thought they were cute.

Here is a little random something or other about each one of them:

Abe: The other night after tucking Abe into bed, I asked him to tell me one thing he really wanted for Christmas. He pursed his lips and thought hard. He stretched his hands out in front of him and flexed and unflexed his fingers as he thought. Then, with utmost certainty he said, "I'd really like some brass knuckles." Well, there you have it, that's what he wants.

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Daisy: Poor girl. She can be the very most dramatic -- particularly when it comes to weeping and wailing. She was sobbing away the other night about something or other. Later, I told Mike that I felt like she was just like an emotional new mother who had been up with her newborn all night and was now too tired to cope well with her world. And, sadly, that truthfully was what she was like. She shares a room with Penny, and Penny had woken her up multiple times the two or three nights previously to have Daisy help her go to the bathroom, etc. One night I heard Daisy up there helping flush the toilet, wash Penny's hands, and get her tucked back in bed. When I went up to see what was going on (having assumed that Penny or Daisy would call to me if Penny was up needing something in the night), Daisy just tiredly mumbled something about having to help Penny and then passed back out cold. In the morning she told me that Penny had gotten her up three times the night before. She'd even cleaned out Penny's little toddler toilet each time. Poor sweet girl. I asked her why she hadn't just called to me, and she just shrugged as if that hadn't occurred to her. She is like a little mother -- good at taking care of little ones and helping make dinner. When we went to her parent-teacher-conference a few weeks ago, her teacher praised her not only for working so hard and being so bright, but for being so "nurturing." She told me how she is careful not to exploit it, or create a dependency in Daisy's friend, but that she often takes advantage of Daisy's great ability to nurture and teach by having her help her friend when her friend struggles with assignments.

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Goldie: She loves to keep everything. And I do mean EVERYTHING. She can hardly bare to throw away an empty little candy box. The other day I was telling her how it is important to throw some things away to keep our homes from getting too much clutter in them, etc. She said, "Like glue sticks, if the glue is all gone!" Then she told me proudly how she'd thrown away several empty glue stick containers at school. As I congratulated her, she added that she didn't throw the lids away though -- that way, if anyone ever lost a lid off of their glue stick, she'd have a spare lid right ready for them to use. "I have MILLIONS of lids!" She told me happily. Hmm. Well, the bottom portion of glue sticks is a start I guess . . .

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Penny: If I ever get upset with Penny for anything she is doing, she will began to cry and cry. Often I will assume she is crying because I stopped her fun, but then she will make me feel horribly guilty when I tell her "no more crying" and she sobs, "but you're mad at me!" (At which point I have to quickly assure her I am not mad at her -- so much so that the point of any prior reprimand is probably erased). Anyway, she was saying the prayer at dinner last night and she said, "Please bless mom to be nice . . . and think I'm good." Is that not the saddest thing you've ever heard? What kind of a mother am I? She also added, which I liked (because you never know with my cooking), "Please bless us to eat dinner safely." Side note: I did tell her how I thought she was good multiple times last night.

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Jesse: That kid! I really am not exaggerating that he is interested in absolutely nothing that it is alright for him to be interested in. I don't know how he knows which things are the worst possible things to play with, but he does, and those are the only things he likes. (Incidentally, he seems pretty clear about what things are not OK for others to be doing -- he is constantly telling other kids to "climb down!" if they are up on something or to "(s)top it" if they are doing anything troublesome or annoying. And yet . . . . Sigh. The other day he was very sick. He only had energy enough to rest in my arms or lie on a bean bag. Still, in the few tiny moments that he gathered enough strength to get up for a minute, he shattered two of my make-up compacts (and their contents) all over the floor AND broke our DVD player. Perhaps you might think that I shouldn't be writing these things about him -- that he'll feel bad reading them some day, but I think he will actually take great pleasure in, and get quite a kick out of, knowing what a little stinker he was -- particularly since I am sure he will grow into a most pleasant and charming young man because, despite the near constant disasters, he really is quite charming. When Mike and I were wondering at how some of the trouble we'd dealt with a few days ago from him was even possible, I had to add that he certainly was a likable little fellow. He doesn't whine or throw tantrums much. He's always as agreeable as a soul could be and will say, "OK, Mom," in the most conciliatory "yes, you're right" manner when you tell him he must stop something he is doing (like dumping buckets of water from the sink to the floor). Of course, he won't necessarily stop, but he seems to be very understanding as to why you wish he would. Likable little trouble maker.

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Anywho, that's just a little something.