Big giant bubba, nice shiny rocks, and the barf couch

Catching up on some of the less exciting events of the last week:



While being checked over by nurses and doctors last week, we found out this little guy is closing in on 14 lbs already. Holy cow. Or hippo.




My dad sent the kids a rock tumbler to keep them occupied this winter. We stuck these guys in:



and got out some beautiful shiny gems! We'll be sending some to far away cousins and friends, asking for a small rock from their region in return. Once we have some from all corners of the country, we'll run another batch. Thanks Dad!

Miles got a minor stomach bug Saturday night at 5pm. I know it was 5 because Jake only had an hour and a half to go get a new couch at Costco before closing time. That's right, Miles did such a phenomenal job on our old couch, it is now in the garage waiting to go to the dump. Kind of sad, seeing as all our family story times, movie watching, lazy Sunday afternoons, Family Home Evenings, and late nights with new babies have happened on that couch.



Because all those things happened on that couch for the last 7 years, however, it was on it's way out the door anyway, and Vomit Boy just gave it one final shove.


Way to go Miles.

Ooh this is no fun!

I hate needing help. I love giving help, but it's really really hard to be on the receiving end. I am mostly helpless, despairing over my family's care, and in step my own personal angels.

Saint Allison took Miles for 9 hours yesterday (and he's potty training!)

Saint Karen basically put my whole house back together at bedtime, made my kids eat their dinner, got me everything I needed, and held the baby while I hobbled.

Saint Patricia brought over (a fabulous) dinner, changed a diaper or two, and picked up some new jeans for me to replace the only pair I had before the EMT's cut them.

Saint Christine took Tate and Lucy for 6 hours and has offered to take them whenever I need it.

And this is all just on day 1. I can't believe how amazing my friends are. I have offers for dinner, cleaning, kid pick up for the rest of the winter, and many other things.

I am so blessed.

My hero!

So, I fell yesterday down the outside stairs while holding the baby. I ruined (for only the near future I hope) my good ankle on the way down, and then both the baby and I went flying into the snow. Luckily, I had a superhero (and cell phone) nearby.



Miles immediately ran to the neighbor's house, went right in their back door, and yelled, "My mom's hurt and the baby too! Come quick!" They both came running, took the baby from me, and helped my superhero guide the police and ambulance to the backyard, where I was still on my back in the snow.

Calvin and I got to ride in the ambulance to the Greenwich Hospital where I found out after 7 x-rays, nothing's broken (on either of us!). He's just fine because I took most of it before he rolled out of my arms into the snow. I'm not as fine, as I ended up on crutches for who knows how long, but it could be a lot worse, if not for a cushion of snow, my extra 35 lbs. of post-baby padding, and of course, my superhero.

Thanks Miles!

Yadwons, Yadwons, Yadwons. . .

One of the great things about kids going to school is all of that "extra" knowledge they come home with. Stuff I could never teach because it's new to me too. Yesterday Tate came home with something great.

Did you know, if you say "snowday" backwards ten times, wear your pajamas inside out,



put a spoon under your bed, and put a giant blob of snow in the toilet right before bed,



the schools will call a snowday the next morning?

True story.

I totally deserve this...

Tate is famous in Texas.

Rumors were spread far and wide of the legendary disaster that was his potty training.

People used him for an example when referring to potty training:

"Well, I don't want to start little Junior just yet. I don't think he's quite ready and I don't want him to pull a Tate."

Seriously.

Lucy was not much better. There are several weeks in my memory where the day ended in a pile of wet panties by the bathroom door each night.

Enter Miles. My most stubborn child. My most mischievous child. My sneakiest child.

Each time I accidentally thought about him and potty training at the same time, a severe shudder would pass through my body. I was in no hurry. I didn't care if he waited until he was 14, I would not push it.

Last Sunday he announced to me that he was ready right now. We had not discussed it, so I had to go dig out some of Tate's old undies and hand them over as my life flashed before my eyes.

One week later he won't let me help him with any of it, and he has had only two accidents. He is determined. He is proud of himself. He is amazing.

I totally deserve this.

At least we don't have to hurry home with the popsicles

When I lived in Arizona, it always annoyed me to buy popsicles. No matter how fast I drove home, they were always a little melted by the time I stuck them in the freezer. That doesn't really bother me lately. I have a freezer on wheels.

We're enjoying (trying to not be so negative) this record breaking cold snap by getting creative. I have to walk to school to pick up the kids because I can't carry Calvin's car seat from the parking lot to the school doors, (There's no actual parking at the school. We have to park at the library or bank and walk.) and it's too cold to carry him without it.

After picking up these two,



we play out here to see who can find the biggest icicle.



This shot is from inside the garage. It doesn't look so bad, right?

Only a few inches?

Well, the fun part is the inch of invisible ice on top. I say fun, because I got to practice my figure skating with this:



all the way out to the street! Miles thought it was hillarious. I almost broke a hip.

And yes, the newest Parker is buried somewhere in that left side of the stroller. We've got to get him toughened up young.

(just kidding, Mom. He's perfectly warm.)



*note: All of these were taken on Monday which actually wasn't that cold. We won't be picking up the kids on Thursday or Friday as the weather is supposed to be hovering around 7 degrees at pick up time. I'm going to ask a neighbor for help. I hope they call off school.

Guess who slept through the night last night!

Neither of these boys, I can tell you that much! Come to think of it, nobody but Lucy. That girl could sleep through an earthquake. Good thing, too, since that pretty well describes every night here.

The Batcave!

Yep, all three big kids will soon be sharing a room again. Because that room is not as spacious as I might like, we had to get creative. Tate is up top, Lucy is over on the twin bed to the right, and Miles gets the coolest bed of all - underneath! I'm sure this isn't what IKEA had in mind, but he loves it and we all refer to it as the Batcave. If you look closely, you can see a sleeping Batman in there.

Lucy's so happy to have a baby in the house. Any time she gets to hold or cuddle or look at him, she's a happy girl.



Incidentally, I love love love naked babies.

Waiting on a sunny day...

I can't seem to get any good pictures of these guys. I like to blame the weather and this house (it seems better than blaming the photographer!) The light is so nasty and gloomy, I just can't get anything good, but until we return to fantastic weather (or move to Arizona!), these will have to do.

Can you tell who adores this baby? It's all I can do to keep Miles from constantly rubbing his nose on Calvin's hair. I asked why he does this and he answered, "Betause Mom, he's softer than a teddy bear!"


What's with 7 year old boys? Seriously?!



They were just thrilled to be allowed on the top bunk. Only Tate's supposed to be up there.



Apparently, whatever the 7 year old has is contagious.



Calvin got to visit the doctor today (he's survived in this nuthouse a whole month!) and he's growing like a weed. 11 lbs, 6 ozs.



Why does 4 kids not seem like so many right here, but when they're all spread out yelling, jumping, running, knocking things over, and galloping up the stairs, it seems like there are so many more?



He doesn't know he's got 3 super-admirers yet. Just wait until he starts breaking their toys. His popularity will plummet.



Hard to believe the head on the top will soon be the size of the one on the left:



Or that the body on the left used to be the size of the one on the right:

We blame you, Calvin!

Jake: "Hey, honey, is this hair just catching the light funny, or is it white-ish?"

Al: "Yeah, it's catching the light in an I'm-really-white kind of way."

Exactly 37 seconds ago, Jake discovered his very first gray hair.

I just wanted to make sure I documented it, so when he's got the "white koala" going on, we can remember when it all started.

I wonder why he's going gray?

Hmm... new baby. . . book deadlines. . . Miles.

No wonder.

How do we get anything done around here?

I stick him in this.



I let the kids dress themselves.



Sometimes, we all just cry.