"I am nice"

This boy tells us he is nice. And he is right.

"Mom. Would you snuggle me up?"

"Let's play nice fish."

"Let's play I am a nice bear and I do talk."

"Yes, I am nice."

His daddy asked if he wanted to play camper and bear one day. This is a game that has been played with other boys in this house. I suppose you can guess what a bear would do with a camper.

Why don't you think about that for a moment?

Silas wanted to be the bear.

This bear snuggled up and slept with the camper. Yes, he is nice.

All five of them again

They all just happened to be sitting there on the couch. Miriam was in a very happy mood. Jake was ready to smile nicely. Eli would have, if only Sammy would stop letting that balloon go off in Eli's face. Si would look great, if only he hadn't rubbed a sooty hand across his eyes when helping me make a fire that morning. And if Sammy could manage to look at the camera and stop messing with that balloon...

...it's life around here. How do you like the rip in Eli's shorts? The dirt on Jake's jeans? Sammy's socks? Can we say "play clothes"? It's a novelty I didn't grow up with. Steve did. My play clothes were my leotards for gymnastics. Steve spent his play time in clothes such as you see here (minus the pink booties).

May

Whenever Si gets hurt, he has a few things which help him.

1) A kiss.

2) Shaking the hurt body part. "No, it okay. I just shake it."

3) A sock.

An unfortunate treadmill accident prompted the need for a sock during breakfast. It made him feel much better!

Jake turned 11 last month. Here's the only picture we ended up taking. I'm so bad at birthday pictures. Every year I lament that I never took a picture of the party guests. Poor Jake ... not the greatest shot. But it does highlight his choice of play clothes and the damage done to the back of the cake by Silas prior to the frosting. It was unable to be repaired.

Jake took a couple friends to a local indoor skate park for his birthday. Steve skateboarded, too, and they had a great time.

Speaking of Daddy ... oh boy ... this makes my heart hurt from happiness:

Happy Easter!

Well, this picture fills me with pride. After all, this is 9am on Easter morning while Steve was on shift. Everyone had their egg hunt, their special Easter breakfast, is completely clean, the breakfast casserole to take to church was cooked, the house was clean and they are all smiling! It was a minor miracle.

And, Sammy is smiling a natural smile instead of the silly faces he normally makes.
And here is a bald little butterball on her very first Easter. I haven't ever put anyone in pink eyelet and a bow on Easter morning. Or tights. Or bloomers. It's fun.

If she can find this!

If Miriam can only find this on a regular basis, I think life will be pretty happy around here. Forgive me for being excited about a possible thumbsucker. We haven't ever had one of those ... so unhygienic, so cute.

Mim

How do you like these ruffles? Can you see the bow on her head? Yep, we have a girl. :)

Life at our house

On Valentine's Day, Sammy announced that Miriam was his valentine.

He later told me that Miriam had a smelly diaper.

I promptly went to change her, only to discover his little trick. She wasn't smelly, but here is a picture of what I found zipped in her jammies (with Eli's name substituted since he pulled a copycat later in the day and that's when I took a picture). I wonder how crinkly and uncomfortable it was? She didn't seem to mind a bit.

She already has admirers. I'm so glad they are her brothers and daddy.

We received a special delivery recently. Right to our doorstep. It was a Silas. The little boys took turns being taped inside the box and then having me summoned to the door to open my package.

Three months

Miriam is three months old. Smiley and sweet and social. She learned to giggle, but things are only funny once to her. So don't count on a repeat laugh, as often as you try. She seems to be settling into a pattern and rhythm. She is so loved, it's unbelievable. She snuggles. She sleeps okay (but is growing, so that sleep is a bit compromised recently). Her naps are improving. She weighs 13 pounds to the ounce. Her eyes won't decide on their color, although blue seems the most predominant. She found her hands. I think it is so funny when she just stares at her fist. She is grabbing things and is as uncoordinated about it as most babies are at this age. I love the "misses" when she tries for something and her hands snap together with nothing between them.

Someone didn't want to be left out of the "I'm three months old" pictures.

And wanted his own. I guess we'll call this, "I'm three and a half years old." Because he is. He turned 3 1/2 on Sammy's birthday. Their birthdays are six months apart to the day.

Six!

Sammy turned six this month. Last year, when being 5 years old was pretty shiny, I made him promise to turn five again this year. I thought I could have this five year old unchanged for two years - you know, pickle him for awhile.

I love watching our children grow up. Children are delightful (and other things, of course). Every year, I still love them dearly, and the new year brings new treasured times with them. But there is something about looking at your child and knowing the way they say those words, their mannerisms, even the cells in their body are being gradually replaced. Sure, it is the same soul in the changing body. But I know I'll never see that particular child again other than in digital form.

I have a dear older friend and mentor who says she misses those days when all her children were under one roof and she could provide what they needed and know that they were safe. I know I'll miss these years, too. I already do, really.

And this little guy who requested a candy cake and had his candles blown out before the song was over (before they had even been lit long enough to show their "magic" and relight) - he holds a special place in my heart. Happy Birthday, Samuel!

As a side note: here's a great way to be able to entertain your baby sister when your mom won't let you hold her.

She likes it.

Look!

It's a girl! I'm not used to talking about "my daughter", and the newness hasn't worn off a bit. She is three months old now, and we adore her. Silas calls her "Mim". So the boys have taken to that little nickname as well, in spite of the fact that Silas insists that he is saying "Miriam".

We are so thankful for her.