Scrambles and Scribbles ~ Herd Control

When I babysat for a living years ago I experienced what I called "Black Thursdays" This was the morning where I had two extra kiddos bookended with an odd and very socially awkward mother who dropped them off and picked them up. She always handed me a check with typed in details and payment to literally the second. I don't know what would have happened if she arrived a minute early. I guess she'd sit in the car. As weird as she was, she was not the reason for the title of the day. The mornings were intense because all six of the children I watched were in the 18 months to four age range. Four (or 3.92 ) hours of food and preparation, then clean up, then diapers and potty time, then short play times with redirection of fighting children, cueing up the hungry whining cycle...and rinse and repeat. And then again. And again. Breakfast, snack, lunch. Oh, the glorious nap time Thursday afternoons. Where I did all the dishes, and made the snacks. Ha. 

Sometimes I experience a tiny taste of Black Thursdays when I'm around the whole expanse of my grand babies. Even though they aren't all in that range of age, some of our interactions feel very much like that cycle of craziness. 

When we first got the three kiddos they were ages 3, 5, and 7 I was a zero to three grandma and everything felt new and different. What in the world do you do with a three year old? Then their baby sister joined the club.  Then Connor came along. As a new grandma I was overwhelmed by the sheer energy and whirl of activity that came with kids when I had been out of the kid business for so long. Just the three alone for a few hours would make me sleep like a baby when bedtime rolled around. With Connor and the baby sister the whole change in baby world from when I'd had babies was intense. Car seats and monitors, strollers and sleeping dos and don'ts have all changed pretty impressively. 

Last Saturday, after a week away at the lake with our daughter and five of her kids, we went back to school shopping. Three stores. A three year old, who had an accident and gets hangry almost hourly, a one year old who weighs as much as the three year old and who does not like to be held, but can not walk, an eight month old who gets crazy wiggles and the ten year old and eight year old who need to try on school clothes, and the six year old who is having attitude issues came along for the ride.  The only one missing was the two year old she has most weekends. 

At each stop the van exploded like a clown car. The sound volume in the van was maxed out. My daughter has grown extra arms since beginning the foster care journey. And I am able to hold two babies and shush a sassy six year old while waiting for her to grab a second cart. And now I can actually stay up past 10 p.m. on evenings I've spent massive amounts of time with her flock/hoard/cluster/herd. Maybe it's like riding a bike. This kid wrangling thing. Black Thursdays helped prepare me to be a grandma of many. And maybe interacting with odd folks. Life skillz. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Seasons

I think I just realized that I have fully entered a new season in my life.

I don't know if it's weirder that I was just able to identify it or that I'm there. I think I've been considering this a temporary place. Of course it's temporary. They all are. Seasons, like people and circumstances are changing constantly. And this particular season is one I'm not hoping to move along any faster than it already is.

You all know we went from zero to three grandkids overnight three years ago. Our number has now swelled to four forevers, one on the way to forever and five in varying stages of semi-permanency in our fold.

I would not trade the sweet, sticky kisses or the silly laugh-a-thons for the world. Every minute I spend with any combination of my brood is a precious blessing. Exhausting. Sometimes frustrating even, but a blessing.

I had entered a point in my life four or five years ago where I was able to plan my life on my terms. That is a joke, of course. We've all heard the phrase, "Life is what happens when you make other plans." And life did. A mere three years ago I was taking music lessons. I had coffee dates with friends, I was able to have conversations with my mom and friends on a regular basis. I was blogging almost daily and creating recipes like a beast. I had hours of quietness in my day. Hours.

Somewhere in that quiet we said yes to two beagles. And our daughters and son said yes to fostering children, or growing one the old fashioned way. My kids' journeys are their own. And I get to watch from the sidelines. But two of our kids are single parents and circumstances and realities have put my sidelines kind of front row. Maybe even standing in the middle of the playing field on a regular basis.

On Saturday I actually had nothing until 5:00p.m. This is kind of a very unusual thing. And it was glorious. I cleaned in silence for part of the day. My Roomba was the only sound except for occasional stereo barking at a loud truck or car heading up the street. I paid some bills. Threw some stuff away, threw a couple things in a giveaway box. I was able to actually do some plotting on the book I'm supposed to be writing. Michelle is free to write after the 1st of the year after two years of constant contract fulfillment. I'm the foundation and stick builder of this second book. And it's August. Just a few months from now we need to be putting in pipes and wires, hanging drywall, and making that sucker turn-key. So Saturday was fabulous and needed.

At 5:00p.m. I took my almost two-year-old to my other mama bear's house and we loaded all those kids into her mini-bus aka 12 passenger van and we headed to church. Crying, whining, laughing, talking, music, a voice from the back shouting that all the seats were filled. We moved into the church like a hoard of locusts. The noise at least, no one was eating vegetation. That I'm aware of. When I am with them I constantly count heads. Sometimes forgetting that number six or seven is in my arms. It's a small church so we take up a full row even with seat sharing. I felt the eyes on us, there is no graceful way to enter a small sanctuary quietly with eight children, three of whom are under two.

Sunday was a small family reunion requiring food, both mamas and seven kiddos joined us. And Monday was a softball game for the ten-year-old. Wednesday, after another long day at work where I trained in yet another clinic, I babysat five while their mom and the oldest were available to answer questions for a foster care training class. Two hours. Two bottles, dinner for the eaters, two diapers, a three-year-old needing potty help, keeping beagles from begging/snatching food from waving fingers, crying, turf battles, a riding toy that kept hurting the rider tantrum, the "mine" whines, a lost tooth celebration. (Praise the Lord I didn't throw away the plastic bag I found when prepping the meal because said baggie that appeared to be empty actually contained the tooth!!!! Mercy!

I began this post on Monday. I've written on and off in my early mornings every day this week. My early mornings start around 5:00 a.m. Sometimes, like twice this week, I spent a little interaction time saying goodbye to my house dwelling daughter and boy-boy. Feed and potty the dogs, maybe get some marketing for Out of the Frying Pan done, get sucked into Buzzfeed or Facebook for a spell, do any financial transactions that are required. And realize it's time to hop into the shower and then get on with my day.

That all said. I'm so grateful for every one of these people and things. So grateful. But the tradeoff is the freedom I did have to chill and chat holding full conversations at a time, or write blog posts, or play music. I know I can still carve out times, like Saturday, where I can do this. Or that I could have some shifting and moving of life. Like the "Writing Thursdays" where I head to my daughter's house at the kiddos bedtime to help make that happen smoothly so that we can keep each other accountable to focus on writing and write for an hour or two. (This has happened successfully a few times.)

In the meantime, I will be content to get something posted in Dregs sometimes. And if that doesn't happen, I know that Blogger will wait for me. And I'll hope you will, too. If nothing else, there will be more activity someday. Because life and seasons are constantly changing. I do know, based on the rate of growth and change in the children in the past year, that one day, too soon, they won't be carrying plastic bags containing a tiny tooth to Grandma's so excited to show her that it finally fell out! Instead I might get a mumbled awkward teenager greeting and maybe a hug of thanks after handing over a gift at birthday or holiday gatherings. The unconditional love shown by a grandparent needs to stretch and twist and remain strong through those times when peers or media are more important than family in kids' lives.

While it is right here in front of me. Ripe for the picking and enjoying, I am embracing all that is grandma right now, because this is going to end up being my sweetest season.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ The Shoes and Other Stuff

Bored Panda posted a bunch of funny parenting tweets. Ha Ha Ha. It says top 10 but goes on for pages. 

http://www.boredpanda.com/best-parenting-tweets-2017/

#37 feels very much like our K...who is 6. Yesterday I went to the store with the herd. Seriously. There was a herd. We went to get tennis shoes for the 10-year-old. K wanted new shoes. One (one of) of her pair of dress shoes is getting too small. Her mother put her foot down. K even brought up the wedding she's in in November, surely she would need shoes for that. No worky. 

Now, I have to admit that I'm a pushover sometimes. An easy mark. A weak link. In the store K who chose to rid in the cart suggested we go look at shoes in her size. Then pointed out certain features. When I stood firm I was dismissed. At least she's not the Queen of Hearts...I kept my head. 

And bonus. Have you seen the Macklemore video with his 100 year old grandmother? 😂😂😂 http://www.boredpanda.com/music-video-100-year-grandma-birthday-macklemore/

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Random Bits, Brain Fog and Head Colds

Is it just me? When I have a head full of cold and sinus and a weekend full of children's activities I have zero creativity. Nada. Nuthin.

Granted the weekend activities were things such as wrestling kids in and out of car seats and costumes. And with a head full of unmentionables that alone is a challenging task. But it was Halloween weekend with a party, a trunk or treat and the main event. 

And I did finish three articles that were due for the Out of the Frying Pan book tour. And study for and teach a Sunday School class. And varnish cabinet doors. And create and make a recipe for The Book Fun Magazine column I write. 

Monday night after the trick or treating this grandma crawled into bed slathered in oregano oil and slept like a mummy. 

And last night I unapologetically watched television and cleaned hedgehog cages and snuggled with pups who've been feeling neglected. Oh, and I got my oil changed since I was about 2k over the recommended oil change sticker that has been inducing guilt for a few months. The receipt says I received a "pretty girl" discount. Holy moly wonder how many times a feminist has jumped over the counter and punched the cashier/mechanic right in the man bits when that discount appears on her receipt. I'm guessing angry feminists only get the "pretty girl" discount once. 

Also, an adult without a child, wending it's way through the child packed trick or treat streets, wearing a creepy costume. At least it wasn't a crazed killer clown, simply possibly the oarsman who silently rows people down the River Styx. Fun times. Fun times. 

Serials and Scenarios ~ Another Day, Another Blog Tour!

Goodness. Things will slow down a little. I had four right on top of each other. 

Stitches Thru Time asked for an article so I provided a foodie bent one. Zula is claiming the recipes as hers and that's just fine and dandy. 

Highlights of the weekend bookwise? 

Finding out we were in the Top 100 Amazon inspirational e-books. Now, I don't want to brag but being number 28 and currently beating TWO of Karen Kingsbury's books is pretty exciting for me...

Getting a copy in the mail, finally. So I was able to hold my book. 

My cute baby grandson holding the kindle version!!! 

First autograph!! Autographing my mom's copy. That seems only right since a) birthed me b) supported the crap outta me in my early writing years! 

Getting a "YOU DID IT" proud of you card from my brother and his lovely family!

Having a friend order her copy on her phone right in front of me after church and teasing me about being famous the whole time. 

Highlights of the weekend? Family dinner last night! I love my famtastics!!!! Laughter is the song of my people and it does a soul good! 

Electrical being placed in my new bedroom. All rooms but my current bedroom's content moved to my current bedroom and I have plenty of room to walk. That's huge. We had three bedrooms full of stuff. Now it's manageable and most of it has places to go in our new "Wing" I'm going to call our section of the house the Lower East Wing. LEW for short. Ha. Ha. Ha. And we purchased the flooring and the new windows and a bit of drywall was nailed into place. Reconfiguring a doorway so that other things can happen. Hopefully cleaning a two-story house for next to the last time. I now will be fully responsible for three rooms and halfway responsible for two. I LIKE IT! 

Giving tours of LEW. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Cake Diva Continued

The day of creation was here. And Cakey-Girl was thrilled. 

We set the fondant out to hit room temperature. As I said yesterday this is something I wouldn't do again. The fondant was pretty easy to put together. I'd make it right before I needed it, maybe while the cake is cooling. It was so much easier to work with while still slightly warm from the microwave. 

Since my job was basically grunt labor, wrestling and rolling the cooled and stiffened fondant Cake-Diva was full on decorating, dictating and running the show. She wanted bright vivid colors and I think she pulled that off. 

We dirty iced the layers, she plopped the fondant down and cut it and patched it. This went real fast and we both loved the texture of the covered cakes. With a little buttercream to hold the second layer we repeated that step with the different shaped cake and the differently colored fondant. 

We slapped more buttercream down, glued the cupcakes in place and began to make them look like roses. I did half of the first one and suggested a technique. She went rodeo and did her own thing. They looked enough like roses that she was happy. At this point we popped the cake into the fridge because it was warm enough in the kitchen to soften the butter cream a bit too much. 

While that firmed up I rolled out the third and fourth colors of fondant for the decorative touches. She took to the  cookie cutters and the cute little metal alphabet cutters we got at Hobby Lobby for under $6.00. I'm definitely going to get $6.00 multiplied worth of fun and joy out of that purchase. She found that she could use jack-o-lantern cutters, and corn-on the-cob skewers for shaping and and detail. 

She began loading shapes with buttercream details, and cutting/poking and prepping like a beast. Once I got the cake back out of the fridge she frosting glued all of her designs on the cake and embellished everything. 

It was so cute. And surprisingly delicious and oh so sweet. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Cake Diva Part 1

I mentioned that my oldest granddaughter was staying with us and wanted to make a welcome home cake for her mom and siblings. We had watched several episodes of the Next Great Baker and she was enthralled. 


I have an awesome and easy vanilla cake recipe and I found a DIY fondant recipe, too. How challenging can this be? I thought. 

So over the course of three days we set out to build an epic cake based on the lil baker's cake book. (Drawings, diagrams, plans sketched by the nine-year-old master chef.)

A square layer, a round layer and 4 cupcakes were baked and frozen for ease in frosting. On day 1. 


Fondant made of marshmallows and an unholy amount of powdered sugar was put together on day 2. This was so easy. A big bowl, 4 cups of miniature marshmallows, 2 TBSP water and 4 plus cups of powdered sugar. Yep. That's right. Marshmallows and powdered sugar. You melt the marshmallows with the water in the microwave, stir it till smooth and begin adding powdered sugar one cup at a time. Then you sprinkle more powdered sugar on the surface of the table and begin kneading until it is no longer sticky, turning it over and folding it as needed until its all smooth. 

Roll it out. 

Lay it over the "dirty iced" (technical term learned from "reality" television in which a cake is iced with a thin layer of butter cream to set the fondant and cut down on crumbs) cake and smooth it out. 

That's if you want white. If you want colors then warm up because you have the need to knead some more. Our creation needed four colors. So to be safe we doubled the batch above. (If you are local and have a need for marshmallow fondant which tastes eerily just like Lucky Charms marshmallows, come on over, we have some left.) Green, blue, lavender and orange. We used regular food color, no need for the heavy and more expensive paste. 

I was the sous chef mixing and kneading because the executive pastry chef lacked even more height than me and lacked the kneading hand muscles. This next step I will skip when attempting fondant in the future. We wrapped the little logs of fondant in plastic and chilled them once the colors were mixed. 

The next day after we made the buttercream we began to work with the fondant. The much harder and firmer fondant. The little cake diva immediately assigned the rekneading to me. The rolling became mine as well. She work on the cutting and placement instead. 

More steps and the final creation tomorrow. My typing muscles took a beating from the fondant wars! 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ My Favorite Role

My grand babies are so exhilarating and exhausting and overwhelming and precious. I just can't even. Okay. I can and will. 

The nine-year-old spent two weeks with us while mom and younger siblings were away. The first picture...so sorry it's fuzzy...I snapped it on the low down so she didn't notice I was social media-ing it. We were asked to put on name tags for church on Sunday. As per usual I was gabbing away and asked her to make me one. This is my name tag. Heart exploding.   

The two little ones arrived last night. Apparently the five-year-old asked about me every day. And the seven-year-old almost every other day.  It was so good to see them and hug them. Little stinkers. Ha. The five-year-old was wanting me to spell everything for her. And so annoyed if the same letter appeared twice in a row.  

She asked what I wanted for dinner. I told her cake. She said something healthy first. So I gave her my menu and had to spell every word. Brussels Sprouts was nearly her undoing. "Another S?!?" I totally recommend you get yourself some grandkids if you haven't done so yet. Contented sigh.

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Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Whoooo Boy Learning Curve Ahead

Our 9-year-old granddaughter is staying with us for a couple of weeks.                                       One of our couple rituals is when we have finished what we need to finish (i.e. when we are tired and should just go to bed early to get a great night's sleep) we end the evening with Hulu or Netflix. Our favorite shows are usually reality. The cooking challenge shows are right up there. 

So CeeCee (the 9 year old, name changed to protect me) has joined in with us watching whichever shows strikes our fancy collectively. What has become her favorite and possibly a new obsession is Next Great Baker. This photo is her first cake design. CeeCee wants to make a cake welcoming her mom and siblings home. And she wants to make this cake. 

Okay. Now here's where is gets real challenging. I don't have the skill set.  I have never, ever worked with fondant. And I've watched some epic fails on this type of show. I also made one huge and elaborate cake for each of my children then began buying them after that telling myself that I had indeed accomplished memorable cakes and now could hang up the apron with a smile. And I never really desired to pick up said apron again...so inside my brain somewhere is a WaaWaaWaaWaa siren sound attempting to remind me how very, very complicated cake making is and this probably shouldn't be attempted at home. Especially with fondant. Even now my brain is screaming "Leave that to the professionals, Honey," (Okay, I added Honey to soften it...my brain never calls me honey.)

Like with her mother before her and her aunt and uncle, I have always melted when presented with a kid dream. I mean, if I don't put some effort into helping them explore, then they don't learn, and if they don't learn, maybe they are missing out on something huge inside of them that the world needs. Or a coping skill that will help them navigate life and all its challenges.  

 Fortunately, I've convinced her that it needs to be real small. Like the top tier (ha, ha I gots the lingo down) could be a cupcake. Praise the Lord she thought that was a good idea. I even found a recipe for DIY fondant made out of marshmallows and powdered sugar. Seriously, marshmallows and powdered sugar....wonder if that's going to be sweet or savory? 

I told her we'd begin this epic project on Saturday. Because the professionals on the show get hours to create and pull off a cake, therefore, we will need days. 

I will be reporting on this adventure...stay tuned. Now to make the shopping list. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Kidstory

X-ta asked me in yesterday's comment what I should be called now. 

Well, I have a story. 

After the adoption was final, when the children were invited by the judge to bang the gavel, and the clapping of the 60+ onlookers died down, Daniel came up to me and said, "Kelly!"

I said, "Hey, I'm your forever grandma now. You can't call me Kelly anymore. So how about grandma?" 

He made a face. He's good at those. "Nah!"

"I heard the French word for grandma is ma mere how about that one?"

He shook his head rapidly. I tried again, "Nana?" 

A head tilt and frown. "So what would you like to call me?" I finally asked.

A huge grin replaced the frown. "Poo Poo" 

"You want to call me Poo Poo?" 

His little sister joined him. They both nodded enthusiastically. 

So, X-ta. You can call me Poo Poo! 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Ours

My daughter started her foster care journey exactly two years ago. For her first month she did respite care for a family of foster kids whose foster home had gotten damaged in a tornado. It was a great practice run with adorable kids. The night before their foster mom's home was ready for them to return my daughter got another call. 

Three little kids, ages 7 thru barely 3 were in need of a home for a few months. They had been in more than one foster care home. And there were behaviors, they warned. 

And we wondered what kind of behavior problems we adults might have if we had been removed and moved as many times as they had in a year. 

Something to think about. 

In the last two years my heart has broken and grieved. It has hoped and despaired. It has soared with feelings I just can't even put into words. 

Last Thursday, after 914 days in the foster care system, they were adopted into our family. 

I am so blessed. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Bright Fingerprints

My lil grand bean turned 5 last week. She's been with us for almost 2 years. I can't believe it. She was just barely 3 when she moved in with my daughter. And what a difference 2 years has made. This little "marching to the beat of a different drummer" kid is just so, so delightful. It tears my heart every time I think about what could have happened had she not ended up in my daughter's life. Not to single her out. I feel that way about all of them. But since it's her birthday and I'm bearing the marks of her love on my fingernails I thought I'd just share. Bean had a little girl birthday party on Saturday and she asked to paint my fingernails and toenails. And I let her. Yesterday she came over for dinner and said. "You still have your fingernails painted." with a big grin. I melted. I do that a lot since these kids entered my life. Yes, even though I discover things like the little turkeys can't be trusted with scissors and markers, I just love the heck out of them. 

 Several months ago. About ten in fact I wrote this. It was written with tears and prayers. Approximately one year later I am thrilled that the ink on the adoption papers will be dry soon and they will be ours forever. So those tears I shed, that deep, longing hope I poured out to God was answered in His yes that they could remain in the safety of our family. Thank you, God. 

"My four year old grand-baby is snuggled up against me snoring and drooling against my left breast. She smells like sunshine and soap. Heat is radiating because she's fighting one of those childhood viruses that are inevitable. She was feeling just fine an hour ago until the pain reliever wore off and her eyes got droopy and she climbed into my lap after her latest dose and fell fast asleep.

This is such a normal situation. But it is made poignant by a few things. One of those things is the innocent trust she has gifted me. At just two months beyond four, a mere 1,500 or so days, this baby has experienced life full of abandonment and selfish adults. Tomorrow a judge looks at black and white documentation and decides if it is time for the biological parents to lose their rights or whether to give them another three months to heap more emotionally painful interaction upon their innocent children. 

My heart is heavy with a mixed bag of emotion. Is it wrong for me to hope the parents will lose their rights when it feels like that is the only chance these little ones have in life? How can I, as a foster grandma, want a better life for these children than the woman who felt the movement of life nestled under her heart and who heard the first cry and saw the helplessness of her child? This child who sought my arms as a safe nest to rest in has captured my whole heart. How did she lose her mother's? 

The gift of this trust hurts. Because the price of loving and imprinting and believing is so very great. If a man or woman determines the parents deserve another chance she and her siblings will go back into a life that is nominal. Where nurturing is a fairy tale and self-suffiency is a matter of life or death."

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Morning After Part 2

My long tale is nearly finished. And I may have almost recovered from four kiddos for 16 hours. 

Pathetically, as my mother pointed out, this was a mere sliver of my daughter's life. Wheweeee. This is why I did not start my family at age 40. 

No, that is not true. I did not start my family at age 40 because I was basically young and in love and we do crazy things like have and raise a family when we know nothing about birthin (or raisin) no babies. Right? Right. 

So bless you daughters who are carrying that torch of whelping and raising kids when its a rough, filthy and thankless task so very often. The dividends are great. But the nights (and days are long). 

Here is the rest of my story. We arrive at church. Halfway adhering to the daylight savings time loss. This is pretty impressive. 

We had all the gear packed (except the shark slippers, the jacket needed for school on Monday and, of course, the toothbrush). Two poopy sacks (one a diaper part 1, the other the oops underwear issue. For the record this collection grew). 

Unbeknownst to me and discovered later by my daughter, someone also left behind some hair. 

Seriously. My daughter left them with me (don't leave, no, don't leave) as they were finishing their movie. Bedtime was a noisy affair with a pen war (clearly) but the doors were open. There is no pile of hair on the floor or in the bed. Alone time was bathroom time. Every other second (at my house) was under adult supervision. I do have scissors in my bathroom drawer. I mean, he's seven. That shouldn't be an issue. Right? 

Well, I'm guessing he decided to cut a chunk of hair off to prove the laws of nature still work. Yep. I have no idea where the hair went. Maybe he ate it. I'll ask him. There's another scientific test there. I think I'll ask him if the extra fiber was what he was going for. 

Worship contained a new singer. The baby is going through a phase where new or even very familiar people freak her out randomly and about 79% of the time. Rob wasn't a good risk, what with squirmy strong super baby and kneelessness....that paints an accurate accident waiting to happen. So she joined me on stage. Entertainment for her and an amazing upper body workout for me. 

At church we had a good old fashioned time-out. Two of the four anyway. While in time-out the boy snatched the necklace of the four-year-old and broke it. Because when you are in trouble it's always best to do something else naughty...another law of nature being tested...cause and effect. Maybe he's going to be a scientist or a lawyer when he grows up. The four-year-old was very offended and sad and looked until she found the missing jump ring and I fixed it and put it on her neck. During this 45 second ordeal I put the 14 month-old down to toddle. I looked away to clasp the necklace...3 seconds...if that... she disappeared. Not really, but she was headed north, apparently saw I was otherwise engaged and veered west and hid behind a person. Thank heavens she was dressed in bright colors. 

A few more days and all my tics should be in remission. 

I love my daughter for so many things. Coming back for her children is right up there. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Morning After...Part 1

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Finally all three children hit the hay. I scooped up the youngest from my bed and dragged her, her pillow and two stuffed animals from my room to hers. Carefully, I deposited her next to the wall, straddling the leggy eight-year-old draped between me and the wall. I held my breath. No one stirred.

I crawled into my bed fully aware that morning was bearing down on me like a freight train and I would be reversing the bedtime process with three and adding a 14-month-old to the mix. We planned on going to church. With one hour less sleep and a very challenging bedtime. This had all the makings of a rich adventure.

Keep in mind, Rob is on crutches. Not that he doesn't have a voice which he can gruff up to get attention, but he possesses no chasing skills, at all.

Breakfast went well. In bits and pieces. The youngest woke up shortly after the baby arrived. She got the most sleep once she stopped wailing after the forcible removal from her sister shared nest. While baby toddled, little girl ran in to go potty. Oops. When Grandma was called for wiping we discovered a little more than what we had counted on. Those undies weren't going to church. And that behind needed a little more than toilet paper. Into the shower she went. Baby clung to me, smearing her banana yogurt, snot face against my shoulder. (She has an ear infection, and a cold.) I forgot to remove the yogurt container from the table and pop it back into the fridge. When we returned downstairs to finish breakfast a four-legged friend had already taken care of the pesky yogurt issue. Fortunately, baby was real content with anything and everything she found on the floor. I picked up bits of plastic so they didn't become consumables while the four-year-old and I continued to discuss the total okayness fashion premise wherein no panties were needed if a lady wore tights.

Did I mention that the older sibling who packed for her forgot her underwear?

The two others joined us downstairs. I portioned out breakfast, removed items from baby's hands and mouth, shoved approved edibles in their place and ordered different children into different bathrooms to clean up, brush teeth and get dressed.

The youngest looked at me. I glanced back, wondering silently what the look meant. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to say."

"Please say."

Her brother said. "She lost my toothbrush."

She had been alone in the bathroom two minutes, presumably going potty and brushing her own teeth. "What do you mean she lost it?"

"She put it down the hole in the sink."

The oldest perked up and offered to grab it with tongs. I let her try. No luck. Brother got to swish toothpaste while I changed baby's poopy diaper number uno. Then I noticed faint black lines upon his face. "Did you draw on your face last night? After you went to bed?" 

No, of course not, it was his older sister. Well, that explains the screaming and giggling. He scrubbed off the evidence and I sighed for the twelfth time. 

Shockingly, we made it to Sunday School only 1/2 late. 

More? Oh there's more. Stay tuned. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ A Few Hours in Surreality...

We had our three oldest littles overnight Saturday. The baby came bright and early the next morning, very early because of daylight savings time. The curse of the lost hour. It seems cruel to lose an hour ever. And on a night with a sleepover, such a sad, sorry state of affairs. I know we get payback in the fall, but I'm just sayin. 

Bedtime. The kids were allowed to stay up a bit later than usual. This was stated to them every time they asked for a few more minutes. Finally, they were all snuggled, nestled in their beds. The night light was broken on the last sleepover so the door was left open and bathroom lights were on to act as a nightlight.  The faux pas of things I forgot to do or didn't do like mommy were all discussed and laid to rest. The final "good night, I love you's" were said. 

Then the giggling and fighting began. 

Threat One involved the usual, the youngest would be placed in Grandma's bed until she went to sleep. Threat Two involved a slightly crankier reiteration of Threat One with the ominous promise of "one more chance, don't blow it." Incoming Threat Protocol Breach involved said Grandma swooping in and forcibly removing said child. Weeping and gnashing followed. Threat One, Two and Three involved door open or closed and the weeping decibel level connection. Finally, the threat was enacted, the weeping stopped, the door was opened and all seemed well. 

Until  giggling. 

The other two. Threats One, Two and Three were swifter in coming. Somehow sleep was achieved. 

Stay tuned for the morning hustle....

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Just So...So...You Know..

Spent last evening with the bigger grandkids while the boy went to Boy Scouts with his mama. In between reading and policing the sometimes arguing girls and keeping them out of grandpa's way while he installed a new kitchen sink, I saw a few childish art and learning projects. The third-grader is learning cursive. The four-year-old drew the family and has mastered the letters in her name plus 4, 8, and 5, so all of her scribbles include a mishmash of those conquered letters and numbers. There is nothing cuter than kid drawings and the oops of learning.