Five...

I realize that it is entirely too cliche to begin a blog post with the phrase "where has the time gone?", but that is exactly what I'm asking myself today as my sweet baby boy turns five. FIVE!! To me, there is something so significant about five. It's like saying goodbye to babyhood and hello to boyhood with a single turning of the calendar page.

While he'll always be our little Davy Crockett and still sports his coonskin cap on a regular basis, he now aspires to the likes of Red Ryder. He straps his holster on, dons his cowboy boots and hat, tightens his red bandanna and with a twinkle in his eye, asks "Do I look him, Mom?"

He painstakingly writes pages and pages of words, carefully forming each letter, making sure he has perfectly printed the names of each and every member of his family. He loves memorizing Bible verses and answering questions during family devotions. He is not intimidated by being the youngest of the older pack; he is driven and motivated, desiring to prove he 'can' to himself more than to anyone else.

This little-big boy who began life so precariously is a daily reminder of the hugeness of God and the days He numbers.

This past week, we celebrated his 'last fours': the last time he would go to church as a four year old, his last bike ride as a four year old, his last bowl of cereal as a four year old, the last time I would kiss him goodnight as a four year old, and on and on. Though he was excited by the showering of attention, I'm quite certain the significance was lost on him.

He was looking ahead to five, while I wanted to stay in the land of four forever.

The land where matchbox cars are lined up by the mile, where exuberance and high-pitched squeals seem never ending, where l's and r's still sound like w's when he asks me to tie his shoes 'wee-wee tight', and where he still says 'Mommy, will you hold me?' Oh, I know these events will still occur; I know he won't stop immediately just because he's a day older than he was yesterday. But it's changing. He's changing.

He's growing, maturing, and coming into his own. There are moments when he's doing something inane like standing at the piano pounding at keys, but when I catch his profile, I see him in my mind's eye 10 years down the road: almost a man.

And it makes me want to savor every moment.

It reminds me that rather than telling him it's time to get off my lap so we can get our day started, I should deeply breathe his sweaty little boy morning smell; that when he asks me how to make a 'P' for the twentieth time this week, I should sit down with him while he makes rows and rows of 'Ps'; and that when he tracks in mud with his yellow rain boots, I should take a picture instead of telling him to go back outside. Because someday I'm going to wish it all back. And I have a feeling that some day isn't very far away.

Happy Birthday, Davy Crockett!! We are so blessed by the gift of you!!

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you... Jeremiah 1:5

A Week In Pictures

Sometimes pictures are worth a thousand words (although I'm pretty good at coming up with 1000 words...just ask my husband!!)

A New Model

We have a sad, sick baby at our house...
Unfortunately, our sad, sick baby doesn't like baths, in fact she loathes them. I'm pretty sure the whole neighborhood knows when Spider-Girl is taking a bath because the rafters of our house rattle with her screams of terror and anguish. Needless to say, baths are not at all soothing and mostly counterproductive, even in illness.

Yesterday, I was attempting to feed our sad, sick baby some watermelon chunks. I mortgaged the house and bought it out of season for my sweet girl (sweet being relative amidst the sad and sick), thinking it would brighten her day and keep her hydrated. Instead of loving it, however, she threw her head back in agony, clamped her teeth shut and wriggled as far to the corner of her high chair as possible. She wanted nothing to do with it. Seriously, what child doesn't like watermelon?!

Tongue-in-cheek, I implored her, "You don't like baths, you don't like watermelon. That is so un-Somma. Did we bring the wrong baby home from the hospital?!"

Her four-year-old brother and three-year-old sister were observing the scene:

Davy Crockett piped up: "Hooray!! Maybe we can get a new baby!!"

To which Giggles replied: "Yeah, one that doesn't CRY!!"

Their summations came a little too quickly and sounded a little too rehearsed.

Poor sad, sick baby.

Seasons Change...

The weekend found Mr. Right and Mighty Man outside working on the last fall clean up, taking care of fallen leaves, mowing and shutting down the garden.
Turns out they were just in time because this is what Mighty Man was doing Monday afternoon. Yep, a pre-Thanksgiving snowfall hit the Pacific Northwest with temperatures dipping into the teens. That's quite a rarity here, especially in November, but these characters were absolutely thrilled!!

Pajama Party!!

Last month our church hosted a marriage conference with Kent and Barbara Hughes . They shared a wealth of knowledge and information about how to be a family of excellence, creating moments of joy, and ultimately bringing glory to the Lord.

They gave really practical suggestions we could go home and implement without requiring huge amounts of change or overwhelming execution. And so, one of the Hughes' great ideas was The Pajama Party.

Mr. Right and I were excited to 'host' a party. First, we explained to the kids what a Pajama Party is; it can happen any time, so they always need to be ready. In order for a Pajama Party to take place, all children must have gotten to bed with relative ease and need to be settling down quietly.

Next, when Daddy decides it's an appropriate night for a Pajama Party, he makes the anticipated announcement (in his own pajamas of course!): "P-A-J-A-M-A Party!!" (This is best done in a New York accent, but obviously not everyone has this option!), at which point all children leap out of bed, grab their pillows, robes and slippers and make for the front door.

Finally, after everyone is buckled in, Daddy drives to the party destination, which remains a surprise until arrival, and the rest is about making a memory.

Our first Pajama Party was to the local Dairy Queen. When we arrived, all the chairs had already been placed on the tables in anticipation of closing time. Mr. Right checked with the girl at the register before hauling his troops in to the restaurant. He explained his mission and she was so excited for us! Can you just imagine the scene as a Mommy and Daddy in their pj's, followed by six not-so-sleepy children in their pj's, placed orders for their favorite ice cream treat? In fact, as we were watching the clock in an effort to respect closing, the manager came out and said, "No, please stay as long as you want!" (we didn't!). Oh, what fun!! Even Spider-Girl got her first taste of ice cream. I wish I'd had my camera...

Our second Pajama Party was just last week. We pre-arranged with Grandpa and Grandma, who had recently returned from a trip to Yellowstone, to invade their house for a slide show of their pictures. They were such great sports as they greeted us at the door in their pajamas! Grandma even made cupcakes and had popcorn waiting.

Lovin' those elk pics!!

And they want their next Pajama Party to be to Yellowstone!!

Popcorn remnants on the rug and a sleeping Davy Crockett, what better way to end a party?

We can't wait for our next Pajama Party. Some ideas for future themes are as simple as banana splits and a card game at home, a late night trip to Krispy Kreme, and meeting up with another family for a movie.

One fun story Kent Hughes shared was of the night they took their kids to Dairy Queen and then, as they were driving across town, he pulled into another DQ and announced "Seconds!" Our kids' tummies aren't quite big enough for that yet, but someday they will be...

The possibilities are endless, and so too, we hope, will be the memories!

The 'Old' Days

On our drive home from church last night we took turns sharing what we had learned. Most interesting was what Davy Crockett shared from his 4's and 5's Sunday School class:

"Adam and Eve ate the fruit and then they saw that they had no skin."

"They had no skin?"

"I mean they didn't have any clothes." Growing more emphatic and animated as only Davy Crockett can be, he continued, "And they didn't even have any underwear. But that's okay because it was the really old days!"

We'll be reviewing Genesis 3 as part of Bible time this morning.

Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths. Genesis 3:7