tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57371055378528705002012-02-08T19:50:58.422-08:00Sometimes you have to look deeper to find the melody.sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.comBlogger1491100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-29379925650580123612012-02-06T14:50:00.001-08:002012-02-08T10:56:20.581-08:00

J is a boy. All boy. And so he is going through the phase that all boys seem to go through in their journey to manhood. He thinks kissing is gross. He complains that all movies are kissing movies. And he groans loudly, "Eeeeewwww!" whenever a kissing scene surfaces. Which quite effectively destroys any feelings of romance that might otherwise be generated by watching kissing scenes in

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-78660958104408107562012-01-26T23:24:00.000-08:002012-02-06T14:47:38.607-08:00

 Before I left the house this morning, I decided that I wanted to remember this day. It's not out of the ordinary, really. Just a day in my life. But I want to record it. I want to remember what it feels like to be in the trenches of motherhood. I want to remember this day because it represents thousands of days just like it. I want to record more than just the tiny glimpses that my memory

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-86945142524677606962012-01-18T22:25:00.000-08:002012-01-20T12:23:53.481-08:00

So, how do you know that I am just a regular person and not some seemingly perfect (actual perfect ones don't exist) blogger that posts all these amazing and beautiful and timely projects?  Well, the main one that comes to mind right now is that I am still posting about Christmas even though January is mostly over.  That probably violates a lot of unwritten blogging rules.  AND, I only manage to

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-87808228899841477322012-01-18T21:26:00.000-08:002012-01-18T21:26:35.920-08:00

This is baby B's standard pose for photos, sort of like a deer in the headlights.  Maybe she was shocked at the unauthorized photo shoot . . .  . . . so she had to promptly call her agent to complain.  She was still in her pajamas, after all.  I love how R is doing action fingers on her head and J is caught in an attempted kiss.  That baby is loved, I tell you. One of my favorite things

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-45736717208760350642012-01-17T19:16:00.000-08:002012-01-17T19:19:03.627-08:00

Shaggy and I used to spend a lot of time talking about what traditions we wanted to have in our little family.  But now our family is not so little anymore and our traditions are fairly stable.  Though they do fluctuate some from year to year--sometimes they get changed or forgotten, sometimes we toss in a new one just to spice things up. Christmas is golden when it comes to traditions.  No

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-41930861385909699222012-01-06T12:28:00.000-08:002012-01-08T15:09:38.591-08:00

This place is seriously cool.  No actual dinosaur bones, but sabertooth and mastadon is close enough for me.  The dinosaurs only missed the La Brea tar pits by about 65 million years.  Give or take.  I love the reflection in the tar bubble.  LA just grew up around this place, a prehistoric site slammed right up against modern life. It was well worth the time it took us to detour here on

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-35614587801542966092012-01-06T12:26:00.001-08:002012-01-18T11:28:20.147-08:00

We finally took the plunge and took our kids to Disneyland.  Except for the little baby beast who we left at home with Grammy. The kids loved the hotel.  In the future, I think we could get away with just driving a moderate distance, checking into a hotel for a night, and then coming home.  Save some pennies, and some hassle all while providing the kids with a huge dose of excitement.  They

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-4643309886353109512012-01-06T12:23:00.001-08:002012-01-07T15:01:51.289-08:00

Ok, I know that running marathons is all trendy and stuff.  Everybody is supposed to want to run one.  You train and train and maybe find a great location for your marathon and then participate in all the hoopla that goes along with it. But I don't get it.  Really, I don't. I get that Mr. Greek Guy ran from Marathon to Athens (24.8 miles) to share the news of the Greek victory.  News

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-30804749399913871322011-11-30T14:42:00.000-08:002011-11-30T21:51:29.252-08:00

Carving jack-o-lanterns is a family tradition of ours.  Usually, it coincides with halloween.  Makes sense, right?  But because we seem to be in the "buckle up because this ride NEVER stops" phase of our lives, we were a little late this year. Ok, a lot late.  Once halloween passed us by, it took a good two weeks to find a free afternoon to carve up some pumpkins.  And we happened to be

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-26747277129961494482011-11-30T14:39:00.000-08:002011-11-30T21:52:43.017-08:00

Robots!  Who doesn't love robots?!  There's just no way to go wrong with a robot birthday. Plus, I've been wanting to make a robot cake for a while now.  And with J's sudden interest in all things robotic, this was the perfect time for it.  I scoured the web for robot cake pictures, stole the ideas I liked and made up the rest.  This is one of the few cakes I have made that I sort of wished I

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-18900356183753323912011-11-19T11:24:00.001-08:002011-11-19T11:55:36.243-08:00

Apparently this girl has decided it is time for her to get involved.  She was front and center for all activities at a not-so-recent church picnic.  Where I though they landed a fabulous face painter. She played on the volleyball team at school.  Where she almost learned to serve the ball over the net.  And where she was beyond thrilled to receive the spirit medal.  At some point during

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-42395838023457700572011-11-01T11:07:00.001-07:002011-11-30T21:49:57.957-08:00

My big plan for this homemade robot costume was just to paint a box.  But Shaggy brought home a bunch of shiny blue posterboard.  Which made the whole project take longer and, well, look way cooler. So, without killing you with the details, here is what we did. We found a box more or less the right size and shape and cut out the bottom and arm and head holes.  Then we traced the box

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-90263125081145621022011-10-31T16:46:00.000-07:002011-11-01T11:04:34.082-07:00

We found the best ever pumpkin farm this year.  Seriously, it had everything.Plus several trains--one to ride on and a model one to watch.  I think it's our new favorite place.Children of the corn.Eager trick-or-treaters.  Although we didn't actually go trick-or-treating.  Not in our neighborhood, anyway.  By the time the 31st rolled around, the kids had already been to two different parties

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-14629516299618203102011-10-31T11:40:00.000-07:002011-10-31T16:06:56.086-07:00

Juggernaut: 1) a massive inexorable force, campaign, movement, or object that crushes whatever is in its path.  2) anything requiring blind devotion or cruel sacrifice. That sums up a large part of B's personality.  Lucky for us.  J once asked me, "Why does B never run out of madness?"  Good question. She acts like a spitfire, she yells like a banshee, she turns our world upside down on

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-63482270136481500052011-10-20T11:09:00.000-07:002011-10-20T16:02:53.314-07:00

There are so many posts that I want to write.  Some of them have been swirling around in my head since June.  I want so much to be able to preserve these memories and thoughts which are all too fleeting.  But with so many demands on my time, I've been having trouble squeezing in any composition time.  Which is also my downfall, in a way.  Because I don't want to post just a jumble of memories and

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-55345134875366316002011-09-30T10:00:00.001-07:002011-10-03T10:40:48.531-07:00

Day trips require us to pack everything but the kitchen sink, or so it seems.  Maybe we tend to be over prepared, but so far life has not taught us that is bad.  I think we actually managed to make this trip without forgetting anything.  Or if we did forget something, I can't remember what it was that we forgot.  So, either way, it's all good. Edit:  I wrote the above portion of this post a few

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-58758915544678692642011-09-26T23:07:00.000-07:002011-09-27T10:52:32.412-07:00

Remember back here where I talked about how I was going to make some mud pancakes with my kids? Well, since our backyard doesn't seem to like to grow grass, we had plenty of opportunity.  J and R play in the mud every week.  So that's nothing special.  What was special about this day, was that we were all out there in the mud with them.  And we had fun. Except for B.  Because nobody told

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-11271480532605727092011-09-26T21:50:00.000-07:002011-09-27T10:51:56.723-07:00

R is simply delighted with preschool.  I figured that would be the case, but it still surprises me how wonderfully different this is compared to the last child I took to preschool. I love being a borderline anonymous parent, one who doesn't need to have any lengthy conversations about my kid.  The teacher doesn't need my cell phone on speed dial.  I don't have to feel sick with worry about

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-50800219140696430562011-09-06T21:51:00.000-07:002011-09-06T22:20:00.964-07:00

Perfect moments aren't free. They are earned. And sharing a perfect moment with six other people is uncommon enough that it ought to be remembered. And cherished. This particular perfect moment came during a very long and trying day trip where grumpiness was contagious, fears abounded, and whining was nearly constant. R was worried about her Daddy's driving on the twisty mountain roads

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-23613758758459873632011-08-31T11:50:00.000-07:002011-08-31T12:15:26.185-07:00

What could be better than chocolate feathers?  On a crooked owl cake? I know!  I know!  A party where you get to look for birds, and pretend to be birds, and then you get to eat a bird. This was our first official birthday bash for R.  Her first two were family affairs.  Her third one was more like "There's the ball pit.  There are the cupcakes.  I'll be over here taking care of a newborn."  So

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-63704648229076422892011-08-30T15:59:00.000-07:002011-08-31T12:14:16.147-07:00

Language acquisition is such a tricky thing.   It's repetition, repetition, repetition.   With a whole lot of experimentation thrown in.   Which is the tricky part, but also the fun part. The quirky ways that preschoolers find to communicate truly amaze me.   So I am usually in no rush to correct them.   Even though that is appalling to a handful of people I know.   Who can be vocal about their

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-59810808433803206022011-08-30T15:49:00.000-07:002011-08-30T15:53:00.595-07:00

Starting school went fairly smoothly this year.  No baby born a few days before.  Minimal anxieties.  J worried a little that his second grade teacher might be mean.  But after meeting her, and after telling him about a hundred times that WE thought she was nice, he let that worry go.  Of course, he won't talk to her much, but it IS just the beginning of the year.  The other worry that he let

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-68932265302802347742011-08-30T15:42:00.000-07:002011-08-30T15:46:14.209-07:00

Summer was more interesting this year.  Even though the pictures in this post may not portray it.  There's only so many I can cram into one post, after all.  But we really did more than just play in the water.  We took advantage of free movies and plays.  We went to the park, we went on some day trips.  We had lots and lots of playdates.  And lots of quiet time at home so the little Irish

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-47719319724976830362011-08-29T22:26:00.000-07:002011-08-30T13:31:09.522-07:00

K has had these goggles since she was 5.  Through them, she has seen her way from the doggie paddle to the butterfly.  From beginner swimming lessons to the swim team.  With them, she has pushed through illness, fatigue, and extreme heat.  And developed a nice tan and muscles she didn't know she had.  With these rose colored goggles, she has become a swimmer. Although if you asked her why she won

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-51584043407048350382011-08-17T23:09:00.000-07:002011-08-17T23:46:36.604-07:00

What do you get when you combine a new lens and a birthday? Something wonderful.  A photo explosion.  What else?I realized just the other day that I am a tortured soul.  I am driven by the pictures in my head.  The pictures I feel compelled to create.  This is one my exhausted mind formed about 6 months ago when I was longing for all the sleepless nights to be over and done with. I usually try

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-41325684744636518392011-08-17T21:25:00.000-07:002011-08-17T23:50:12.536-07:00

Our family's last first birthday has come and gone.  I admit it feels a little bittersweet.  One year marks so very many things.  It marks the end of infancy.  And a return to some semblance of normalcy.  It marks the beginning of childhood, when a baby tries to figure out who they are, what they want, and how they fit into their family and the world at large.  It means the end of infant toys

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-56544551269750708092011-08-08T11:10:00.000-07:002011-08-08T11:16:51.923-07:00

Hi.  This is K and I'm excited to be writing my first blog post which is about Girl's Camp.  I turned 12 this year and so it was my first year at camp.   I wasn't sure what to expect until Back to Camp Night, where older campers explained what it was like.   I also found out who my secret sister would be.   That would be the girl whose bed I’d secretly put small gifts on every day.   It was a

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-26571827605853932902011-07-31T21:50:00.000-07:002011-07-31T21:56:48.120-07:00

We had a quick visit from Shaggy's sister.  The kids enjoyed some time with their cousins--a fairly rare treat for them.  Notice how J has his arm around his baby cousin, bringing him into unusually close proximity to Aunt S who is virtually a stranger to him.  Apparently, his adoration of babies chases all his worries away.  Good to know. And adoration is really the only way I can describe his

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-49021522796956392752011-07-18T11:14:00.000-07:002011-07-31T21:58:03.547-07:00

I would consider it no great loss if I never saw a lizard again.  I have no problem with reptiles, per se, they're just not my thing.  So I find it rather baffling that our household reptile population is now nearly double that of the human population.  I think it's getting out of control.  But since it's not MY thing, I don't know how to make it stop. After the first batch of baby geckos, mom

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-72492648387439043162011-07-15T14:42:00.000-07:002011-07-15T14:43:12.312-07:00

This has to be one of my all-time favorite photos of B.  That smile is sooo hard to capture.She loved her watermelon.  Especially once she figured out how to take bites of it.We thought it was pretty funny how she refused to hold onto it.  So we had to keep propping it up.Happy girl.  With melon stuck in her crooked teeth and oozing from her mouth.  Good stuff.

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-85821211233484138892011-07-15T14:26:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:23:51.292-07:00

4th of July weekend.   We did a little of everything from run-of-the-mill traditional to downright odd.Watermelon.  One of the true joys of summer. BBQ with lamb.  Yes, lamb.  Topped off with cotton candy, popcorn and an outdoor theatre.  When I grow up, I want to be just like the couple that invited us.  They rock my world.  Haven't had such a relaxing evening in a very long time. Did I

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-665644339433890322011-07-09T21:21:00.000-07:002011-07-09T21:24:54.922-07:00

Just in case you wanted to know what toddler road rage would look like. What?!  You talkin' to me? This is MY dead lawn.  Get outta my way!!

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-66494193289690528212011-07-09T21:13:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:40:32.469-07:00

We went to a celebration at a great natural history center that emphasizes all things hands-on.  Above, J and R are digging for worms.  They didn't find any.  But the dirt found them.So we moved on to something bigger and better.  Snakes.  It may look like R is backing away out of fear.  But no, she was just trying to get a clearer view of the snake's face.  I guess she needed to see what sort

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-33062418707487756882011-06-22T22:01:00.000-07:002011-07-15T14:34:52.873-07:00

It looks like he's gonna need it. With J doing his very best grumpy face for the camera.  And Baby B pulling R's irresistable hair.  Somebody's ALWAYS doing something they shouldn't around here. R is drumming on K's bum.  And Shaggy looks like he's either drugged or about to fall asleep.  Maybe both.Too bad it takes a bum drum to get such a great little smile out of R.  And a head swap to get B

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-76903969515157960032011-06-22T20:59:00.000-07:002011-07-15T14:35:31.516-07:00

It's official.  We have a toddler on our hands.  10 months is simply too early to walk, in my opinion.  But she has other ideas, apparently.  Her baby steps are becoming steadier by the day.  Her adorable crawl is seen less and less frequently.  She has actual bruises on her bum.  Which are doing nothing to deter her.  I imagine the bruises are caused by her relentlessy rambunctious antics in

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-36332285953475363402011-06-21T14:50:00.000-07:002011-07-15T14:35:52.466-07:00

J has been eagerly waiting for his first tooth to fall out.  Most of the kids in his class have long since lost several teeth.  Even his permanent tooth grew impatient. (You can see it half grown in already.) He tucked the following note under his pillow along with his tooth. I poold my tooth and it came out!  it is amazing!  This nite I think I will be happy! And he drew a little frame around

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-63527036412190711902011-06-16T22:09:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:51:02.052-07:00

Only children undoubtedly get more time, attention, and affection from their parents.  This is a good thing. But kids who don't have the luxury of growing up as only children are privy to the awesome power of siblings.  Sometimes that power is like a hailstorm that beats you down.  Not very fun or photogenic. But sometimes, the power of siblings is like sunshine.  It creates life and warmth and

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-64491631498208456602011-06-16T21:43:00.000-07:002011-07-15T14:36:28.767-07:00

I'm proud of my girl and all the hard work she's put into music this past year. I would like to brag about how exceptionally gifted she is and how she never forgets to practice and how she was hand-picked to participate in the district honor band. But I can't.  Because she's just a kid.  And she often forgets to practice, even after I have reminded her.  And while her skills are certainly

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-29586131993702709092011-05-13T11:49:00.000-07:002011-08-31T12:14:50.553-07:00

J planted a bean at school.  He watered it and gave it sunlight.  He wished fervently that it would grow.  To no avail.  He came home with nothing more than a cup of mud. This made him sad. I understand EXACTLY how he feels.  I, too was a failure when it came to gardening in grade school.  Come to think of it, I am STILL a failure at gardening. But my grade school story is much more poignant than

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-77172329877111121032011-05-13T11:04:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:43:09.230-07:00

We were sitting around the dinner table recently, trying to get the kids to be quiet enough so we could say prayer and begin the meal.  Sometimes that takes a while. R noticed the plate of freshly grilled food in the middle of the table.  She proceeded to stand on her chair and began a loud chant,  "I don't like that!  I don't like that!  I don't like that!"  Our requests for her to sit down

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-1886146973685109752011-05-09T20:46:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:51:02.052-07:00

This day was made for me.  Because I am a PERFECT mother. Except that I sometimes yell at my children. And I don't always make them eat their vegetables. Not being able to carve out any time for myself sometimes makes me grumpy. And sometimes, I force my children to go outdoors just so I won't have to hear them. There are days that I let my baby eat underwear.  She is drawn to them.  I don't

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-49812796333548359142011-05-08T21:20:00.001-07:002011-05-09T12:16:08.034-07:00

For Mother's Day gifts this year, we commissioned a very local artist to make one-of-a-kind family trees.  Very local.  As in she lives with us.  And she usually does what we tell her to.  Usually. K earned more money towards girls camp by making these.  We thought they turned out pretty cool.  She used steel wire (although aluminum is easier to bend, if you can find it.) and plyers. I made the

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-85969226497000384652011-05-06T10:29:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:43:09.231-07:00

We were getting ready for church on Sunday morning.  We were actually going to be on time.  Minor miracle. I woke B up from her morning catnap (which went against EVERY instinct that I have) and put her on the changing table to get her dressed.  The minute I took off her soggy diaper and rolled it up to throw away, she decided to pee all over.  Which elicited a lot of  "Aaaaah!  Aaaaah!  Help!"

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-3821299327697814092011-04-29T15:33:00.000-07:002011-05-03T11:55:02.247-07:00

Easter was a little crazier this year.  But I'm finding that EVERYTHING is a little crazier with five kids. But we still managed to keep up with the traditions. Portraits, for me.An egg hunt, for the kids. The whole hunting experience wasn't quite the resounding success that last year's was.  We had lots of fallen olives to slosh through.  The grass wasn't greener.  The sun was shinier.  And

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-19858052202425717832011-04-29T15:28:00.000-07:002011-05-03T11:27:17.071-07:00

Freshly boiled egg meets crayon. It's always a good Easter season when I discover a new way to decorate eggs.  I think this might be my favorite method to date.  The only tricky part is making sure little ones wear some gloves so the hot eggs don't burn their fingers. There are no cups of dye that get spilled all over.  And the eggs don't bleed, even when they get taken out and put back in the

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-61467590759579179922011-04-27T20:02:00.000-07:002011-05-13T10:56:42.439-07:00

Almost 9 months now, Baby B is growing on us.  Even more.  She's much more fun these days, letting her quirky little personality show.  Shaking her head at us.  Using her hands to say, "Gimme!  Gimme!"  Making us do her bidding with her radiant little smile.  With the gap between her two front teeth. And she claps.  A lot.  It never fails to make us smile and cheer and clap along with her.  Which

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-14372209644775077602011-04-27T20:00:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:43:09.231-07:00

This was my girl one month ago.  She didn't seem overly concerned about her appearance.  She had no qualms about dressing up in a homemade Nephite (think Native American, but a thousand years ago) costume and performing in a musical.  She didn't even seem to mind the gap that was forming between her two front teeth.  Maybe it helped to know that it was only a temporary thing caused by her

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-89562452282776935992011-04-16T15:22:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:51:02.053-07:00

If there was ever a week for me to have a pity party, it would have been last week. I'm still reeling from all the things that hit us in that 7 day period.  The list is so long, actually, that it's comical.  In a not so funny kind of way. It all started when Shaggy abandoned us.  He left us behind and flew off to the Windy City for a grand adventure.  A nice visit with his folks, some wonderful

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-24805269693106199792011-03-29T21:02:00.000-07:002011-05-13T12:43:42.045-07:00

We've considered doing an art party before, but it just never ended up on the top of the list.  But several weeks ago, when S said, "I'm no good at art," the art theme suddenly became a priority. It broke my heart to hear her say that.  No good at art?  How was it possible that she thought that?  Shaggy and I both consider her one of our most artistic children.  The way she writes her letters,

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-34395863954905351062011-03-22T15:47:00.000-07:002011-03-23T07:32:54.313-07:00

Apparently, the only thing hindering this little Irish princess in her ability to sleep through the night was the fact that she did not, in fact, have a room of her own.  She had to share with her boring, snoring parents.  She's been able to soothe herself to sleep for months now, she simply would not STAY asleep. So all I had to do was rearrange 7 pieces of furniture (on my own!), relocate 2

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-55475885497830446422011-03-22T15:35:00.000-07:002011-03-22T15:35:35.797-07:00

Shaggy taught the kids how to start a fire.  And they like it.  A little too much.  I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about their newly acquired skill.  Especially considering how much Shaggy enjoyed starting fires as a kid.  I'm fervently wishing he was still a fireman.

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-2776470487814994392011-03-15T11:54:00.001-07:002011-03-15T14:16:58.343-07:00

Shaggy loves to laugh.  It's no secret.  Anyone who knows him, knows this.  He enjoys humor wherever he finds it. Sadly, because of his hernia surgery, laughter has been causing him a great deal of pain. I almost had to take the book Catching Fire away from him because it was making him laugh.  Yeah, a book where people are forced to battle to the death in an arena to provide televised

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-86457040561733683012011-03-15T11:53:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:51:02.053-07:00

You know that riddle about a man who has a fox, a rabbit, and a cabbage?  He has to get them all across the river safely in his boat which only holds two things.  But the tricky part is that the fox will eat the rabbit and the rabbit will eat the cabbage if left alone together. I've been stuck in a puzzle like that for the last week.  It's been interesting, to say the least.  Shaggy had a big

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-18511635541624198692011-03-07T12:11:00.000-08:002011-03-07T12:12:26.445-08:00

Baby B is loving the solids.  Her Mama is loving the prospect that B may someday be weaned from nursing.  May even be able to feed herself one day.But until that day comes, the high chair will certainly remain a sticky, gooey mess.  And the washing machine will totally earn its keep.

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-71532687513243667402011-03-01T19:24:00.000-08:002011-08-31T12:04:41.394-07:00

The time has come.  My first baby is no longer a baby.  Not even much of a kid, really.  She got braces last week.  Which in my mind, puts her squarely in the pre-teen category.  Someday I might actually stop calling her "baby."  Then again, maybe not. I can hardly believe how much her life has changed in the last 2 months.  She has been iniated into the church youth program by filling up our

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-35854532474443108962011-02-18T16:40:00.000-08:002011-02-23T14:53:17.299-08:00

Ever since the year that Shaggy bought me valentine chocolate at the dollar store, I have been buying valentine chocolate for the both of us.  I have nothing against the dollar store.  Actually like it, on occasion.  But when it comes to chocolate, they simply do not make the grade.And since we have so many adorable little valentines, we gave up on trying to go out for a valentine date many years

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-30372560645428388872011-02-18T16:28:00.000-08:002011-05-13T12:47:04.130-07:00

Ever since K turned 12 last month, she has been really busy zooming around to all the different church youth activities.  Which makes us really busy zooming her.  She also gets to go to girls camp this summer.  Which means fundraisers so she can pay for it.The young women hosted a nice dinner where they had a dessert auction.  Which was really fun.  Crazy how high the bidding was going for some

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-44709971265841205772011-02-18T13:06:00.000-08:002011-03-07T12:13:26.712-08:00

I don't know where this girl gets all of her personality.  I suspect it has something to do with having 4 siblings.  But I also think that she was just born to be expressive and comical.  She's funny without trying.  Something I admire because it's a trait I always sort of wished that I could claim. Her expressions tell more of a story than her words.  I think it would be a travesty if she never

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-8287565443725472812011-02-18T12:41:00.000-08:002011-02-18T12:44:06.888-08:00

Up until the last month or two, poor Baby B has had such a tearful little life.  She's spent a larger percentage of her life crying and fussing than any baby we have had.  Poor thing.  I can see why she was so very sad all the time.  Always being held.  Being fed at all hours of the day and night.  Being rocked to sleep.  Having 6 people who totally adore her and try to fulfill her every whim.

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-63356585159658523742011-01-30T17:51:00.000-08:002011-05-13T12:43:42.045-07:00

K was born in the Chinese year of the tiger.  And since the Chinese Zodiac uses a 12 year cycle, the year of the tiger came around again just in time for her twelfth birthday.  Semmed fitting, somehow, to have a Chinese New Year celebration for her. I've been itching to make a chinese dragon cake ever since I saw a photo of one on the cake idea website I like to peruse for inspiration.  I wish I

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-12036746286044350292011-01-27T16:04:00.000-08:002011-07-22T21:43:09.231-07:00

I had to break into my house today . . . with a baby strapped to my chest and a three-year-old accomplice. But let me back up, and start at the beginning. I knew today would be a hectic day, but the morning began like many others, trying to coax B into going back to sleep after she woke up at 6 am. Didn’t work. So I turned my attentions to J. We’ve just recently implemented a new morning trick

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-78807429144094556132011-01-25T15:52:00.000-08:002011-07-22T21:51:02.053-07:00

My mother and I are very different people. She cries in sappy movies. She actually LIKES sappy movies. I sometimes WATCH sappy movies, but they rarely bring tears to my eyes. Maybe I'm just cold-hearted. Or maybe it's because I grew up with three brothers. Who knows. Who cares. My mother is also a baby FANATIC. Seriously. As a kid she was sort of obsessed with baby dolls. As an adult she's

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-50743016065968818792011-01-25T15:39:00.000-08:002011-01-25T15:39:30.301-08:00

J said a prayer for the first time at church.  He wanted me right by his side, to whisper the words in his ear.  He didn't want to do it alone. But he did great!  The most surprising part, though, is that he volunteered to say this prayer.  I actually was in the process of telling his teacher no thanks when she told me he had volunteered.  Of his own free will.  Miraculous.  And I hope it just

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-50705152994833869332011-01-15T11:56:00.000-08:002011-01-15T21:59:24.425-08:00

Some of my relatives tell me that dark backgrounds with light text are NOT easy on the eyes.  And since I have no desire to blind these relatives (or any others, for that matter), I have changed my color scheme.  May your eyes never feel strained again!  At least not by me.

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-28620027595277704242011-01-05T16:21:00.000-08:002011-07-22T21:40:32.470-07:00

I have to say that my camera chose a terrible time to break.  B's first Christmas.  Christmas in general, with all of its traditions and excitement.  And this trip to the coast to see the monarch butterflies.  At least we had a small, alternate camera to use, so all was not lost. I've been wanting to see these little buggers for a long time now.  We made a trip last year, but they had already

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-84451312565452455762010-12-29T17:36:00.005-08:002011-01-07T16:24:41.961-08:00

Given how I feel about sugar cookies, I'm a little fuzzy on how the decision was made to make homemade gingerbread cookies.  I know it wasn't my idea. Usually we buy one of those gingerbread house kits which the kids love to put together on Christmas Eve.  But this year, since Shaggy has been on a financial overhaul mission, we didn't buy one.  Cash is king, credit is dumb and all that witty

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-85665678715975825832010-12-29T17:36:00.001-08:002011-01-15T12:02:35.695-08:00

It doesn't just happen on its own, you know.  Which explains why this Christmas was the most exhausting one yet.  Poor Aunt N, she had no idea what she was signing up for, coming to stay with us the week of Christmas.  Crazy, with a capital C.  But, she took the baby's wailings in stride.  And J's screeching.  And his mantra, "Don't look at me!"  And R's meltdowns.  And K's moodiness.  And S's

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-38756429249327550892010-12-29T17:35:00.001-08:002011-01-05T17:11:48.294-08:00

Doing the nativity play on Christmas Eve has got to be one of my favorite Christmas traditions.  I love the creative flair that the kids throw in.  And it's always a bonus when we have a guest angel and a live baby Jesus. J opted to be a tech guy this year.  He helped Shaggy create the set, complete with lights.  He also refused to let me take his picture.   Mary is on the left, riding her

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-88185668694692479582010-12-29T17:33:00.001-08:002011-01-05T17:15:45.961-08:00

Yep, this would be the money shot.  My absolute favorite from this day.  Maybe even the whole week.  And forget what I said about never editing my pictures before posting them because I did for this one.  I just had to.  I love this girl.  I love her baby blues (my other kids, except for B so far, ditched the blues in favor of green or hazel).  But hers are here to stay.  I love her freckles

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-28610390744942470892010-12-29T17:32:00.001-08:002011-01-04T22:19:37.602-08:00

We had an unusual Thanksgiving this year.  Our trusty van decided to suddenly stop being so trusty.  So Shaggy spent most of the day outside in the very atypically cold weather fixing it.  It involved lots of parts being removed, draining and dropping the gas tank, and trying to see what he was doing through a small hole in the frame.  Poor guy. But since he is a genius (have I mentioned this

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-5520216770681425482010-12-29T17:31:00.001-08:002011-01-04T22:02:46.117-08:00

I love fall.  And I really miss the midwest when this time of year rolls around.  I always feel a strong desire to seek out some gorgeous fall foliage.  This year we finally found more than just a pretty tree here and there along parkways.  So we decided to take some family photos.  With a tripod.  And a remote.  See that little black thing I'm holding in my left hand?  That's the remote. I like

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-50159126612548366612010-12-29T17:30:00.001-08:002011-01-03T14:06:33.164-08:00

Shaggy took J to the dentist 6 months ago to get a little cavity fixed.  It was an epic failure, to say the least. But now, finally, it has been fixed.  Hallelujah!!  It only took a new dentist, 12 practice visits, a million prizes, a very funny movie, and laughing gas. The day J finally triumphed over his anxieties, Shaggy took him to the hobby store and bought him this plane.  Which crashed,

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-30753042840925948342010-12-29T17:28:00.003-08:002011-07-22T21:51:02.054-07:00

Kara, this post is for you.  I haven't thought about that phrase in a very long time.  That may be hard for you to believe since you can remember our good ol' college days.  Nevertheless, it's true.  Thanks for reminding me of it in your comment on my last post.  Which, yes, was a rather long time ago. So why didn't "suck it up" make it into our family rules?  Given how fond I was of saying it,

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-34774143998574633772010-11-18T21:58:00.000-08:002010-11-19T10:30:49.373-08:00

This was the year Shaggy decided to train for and run in his first marathon ever. Yeah, this year. . . which has been crazier than all the years we've been together.  It's been completely crammed full of craziness from start to finish.  (I'm just assuming the craziness will continue through December since so far it shows no signs of abating.) When he first brought it up, I believe I raised my

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-59739611419910845932010-11-11T22:50:00.000-08:002011-05-13T12:43:42.046-07:00

We had a much more successful party for J this year, thankfully.  He actually enjoyed himself rather than just his guests.  Of course, we only invited one family.  The family he bonded with over the summer because he went to swim at their house every week.  So there was really only one friend which was his age.  The other kids are friends with the girls.  Somehow that seems to make it all less

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-628448699743073542010-11-11T20:46:00.000-08:002011-01-15T12:04:49.445-08:00

I love these girls.  They are fun to hang out with.  They only occasionally make trouble.  They are fabulously capable, and they make my responsibilities more manageable on a daily basis. I don't know what I would do without them.  I believe I would have lost my mind over the course of the last 5 or 6 months if I hadn't had them around to count on. They are great with the little kids (well,

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-55616266242361672012010-11-11T20:32:00.000-08:002011-01-15T12:05:27.765-08:00

We found some very old face paints in our halloween box this year.  They looked like they hadn't fared very well in the hot attic of our garage.  So we gave them to the kids and let them go to town. J took that offer pretty seriously.  I also think he overlooked the part about these being FACE paints. He started out wanting to be iron man. But then he changed his mind, crossed out his power

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-17215131070280715712010-10-31T22:13:00.001-07:002011-01-15T12:05:44.702-08:00

It's sort of hard for me to believe that they all started out as small as baby B.  Or rather, that they are all now so very much bigger than baby B.  But they're still my little ones, no matter their size. We managed a trip to the pumpkin patch in between all of my medical issues.  Where the kids found the perfect pumpkin, which turned out to be both too big and too expensive.  But at least we

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-32353629545727326002010-10-31T22:12:00.001-07:002011-01-15T12:06:51.377-08:00

 Last Halloween, I remember talking to Shaggy about this year's costumes.  We decided that it would be a great idea to have all of them be homemade.  We were full of ideas for cute costumes.  It would be so much fun . . . and so doable. Then this year rolled around and the reality of life with so many kids forced us to reconsider.  We had a few "what were we thinking?" moments, and then decided

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-31102338735859935912010-10-28T12:52:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:52:06.073-07:00

And anyone who tells you differently is selling something.  The birth of B was supposed to be the big, huge hurdle that we had to make it over before our life could settle into normalcy again.  Our last baby was wonderfully mellow and sleepy--even from the very beginning.  We figured karma was on our side and was rewarding us for choosing a life of service rather than one of leisure . . . or

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-4130317340827861622010-09-28T23:06:00.000-07:002011-05-13T12:43:42.046-07:00

R's birthday fell just ten days after B was born.  We put off her party for another ten days.  And easy was really the main criteria. A ball pit, various cupcakes that LOOKED like ice cream (I had to give myself a little bit of a challenge, after all!), two little friends, and presents.  Easy peasy. I can't believe she's three.  What happened to my baby?

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-16352395979648444852010-09-20T22:29:00.000-07:002010-09-20T22:47:55.632-07:00

I should probably follow up my last post with the fact that not ALL of the photo sessions were total failures.  I did manage to get a few keepers.  And when the troops all came home from church a tad too early, I figured I might as well invite them into my little homemade studio (black fleece draped over two chairs). Ironically, baby B stayed asleep the entire time, even with all the noise her

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-57313212711915907142010-09-19T16:21:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:45:39.962-07:00

Newborn photography.  Yet another career that I am glad I do NOT have. I enjoy looking at photographer's websites, sifting through their beautiful photos, possibly finding some inspirataion.  They make it look so very easy.  So I figured I'd give it a shot, so to speak.  After all, I know a little more about photography and lighting than I used to, and I have a better camera.  Stick a sleeping

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-30353935381185490182010-09-02T13:26:00.000-07:002011-05-13T12:36:57.415-07:00

I'm pretty sure that this summer will NOT go down as a super fun one for the kids.  Probably won't even make the top ten list . . . when they're 50. We didn't go on any road trips.  Didn't even do any day trips.  No reunions.  No classes other than swimming.  Mostly, we spent a lot of time at home, with a few outings sprinkled here and there.  The older girls earned their stripes for childcare,

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-18342036928209711742010-09-01T13:40:00.000-07:002010-09-01T14:07:31.212-07:00

R is dying to go to school.  She talks about it all the time.  Of course, sometimes she calls it preschool and sometimes she calls it college.  But really, it's all the same for her.  In fact, she tells everyone who will listen that she's going to go to preschool.  But the poor kid has to wait a whole year.  She often gets herself out of bed, has breakfast, gets dressed as much as she can by

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-10991057884525530772010-08-10T22:53:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:52:06.074-07:00

Tiny baby B is actually sleeping . . . somewhere other than in my arms, so I'm going to push my luck and see how far I get with this blog post. I want to tell the story of her arrival.  I feel like I need to tell her story.  Because it's miraculous in every sense of the word. And for those of you who get squeamish (like my brothers!) when women start talking birth, no worries, a public blog is

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-51207790918999719382010-08-01T11:23:00.000-07:002010-09-01T13:26:44.177-07:00

Today is my due date.  No signs of imminent labor.  No surprise, really.  I've been here three times before.  Only one of my children was merciful enough to come early. But what I'm realizing this time around, as I struggle to keep up with day to day life, is that MY life is the only one which stops and holds its breath waiting for this child to arrive.  Everyone else's life just trucks along

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-83585968847268210262010-07-31T18:43:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:41:19.743-07:00

I knew the day would be a little out of the ordinary when J asked me, "Mommy, can you do that thing where you make us all go outside?" "You WANT me to kick all the kids out of the house?"  Yeah, he did.  So I happily complied. My kids seem to work in rythms.  There are weeks where they will want to be outside all the time.  Then they'll forget about the outside world and focus on indoor things.

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-84411923367258875482010-07-31T16:33:00.000-07:002010-07-31T16:33:34.597-07:00

My kids usually start peppering me with questions and requests before I'm even out of bed.  Granted, it would probably be good if I was one of those early rising morning people.  But I'm not.  Nope.  Not me.  I get up when I HAVE TO get up. And since it's summertime and I'm huge and pregnant, I've been milking my lazy mornings for all they're worth. But there are many days when grunts and

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-31854768424040590092010-07-19T17:07:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:52:06.074-07:00

This is me . . . on a soap box.  But I'll try to keep it short . . . sort of.  And remember, you don't HAVE to read this. I am grateful for all the advances in modern medicine.  I am grateful they have found lots of ways to do lots of surgeries and treatments to save lives.  But conventional medicine misses a lot.  And sometimes it is so focused on the modern cure, that it overlooks the holistic

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-16875911291772696102010-07-15T16:45:00.000-07:002010-07-15T16:45:51.036-07:00

The circus came to town.  When we first told the kids we were taking them, we got a very mediocre response.  And we realized that it was because they had no idea what a circus was.  K was just a toddler the last time we went.  But I think they were all suitibly impressed after having seen the show. The girls loved the trapeze acts--even suggested that I should get out there and swing upside

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-22735466600418969802010-07-15T16:28:00.000-07:002010-07-15T16:28:48.761-07:00

We promised the kids fireworks this year.  So we had to deliver.  Usually we're so lame that we just go out front and watch the ones from the waterpark near our home.  But last year, they made such an impression on little R (really, she talked about them for months afterwards) that we decided we better venture out to see a good show this year. This is how J responded when we asked him if he was

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-21359146957138595832010-06-30T15:03:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:45:39.963-07:00

At breakfast the other day, all four kids were sitting around the table eating cereal together.  K started a little question game that entertained the little ones. "Raise your hand if you're 5 years old." R raised her hand as high as possible and said, while waving it back and forth, "Me!" J also raised his hand.  When R noticed this, she scowled at him and waved her had even harder.  "No, me

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-73645442695024796442010-06-21T17:52:00.000-07:002010-06-21T17:52:33.379-07:00

We've been doing some much needed painting around our house, trying to get it all out of the way before the baby comes.  It has all gone pretty well.  Until we chose green for the kitchen, that is.  The paint chip looked great.  It was a nice color, it looked good against the cabinets and the tile.  That paint chip lied.  Because it DID NOT look good in the least bit once the room was finished.

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-52179602024196598102010-06-16T17:20:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:52:06.075-07:00

Flashback to one year ago.  J was finishing up preschool.  He wasn't talking to any of his classmates.  He mostly only nodded or shook his head in response to his teachers.  He ALWAYS had a hard time when I dropped him off at school and often when I picked him up. This picture of him with his teacher, was taken on the very last day of school.  THAT was how comfortable he was in that environment

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-13188217917503732342010-06-08T16:13:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:41:19.743-07:00

After a month of running a zoo with 4.5 little monkeys, 2 dogs, 2 lizards, and various creepy crawlies, we decided the puppy had to go.  It wasn't her fault, of course.  But it just proved too difficult for us to accomodate her puppy behaviors.  Especially now.  With a baby on the way.  A toddler testing the limits of her independence.  And a very long house fix-it list which includes painting

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-82262274829185166882010-06-04T15:16:00.000-07:002010-06-30T15:11:17.009-07:00

There are times when I feel a little bad for my one and only son.  Having two older sisters, he has had to endure quite a bit of pink. Maybe too much.  But for most of his life, he didn't mind at all.  I'm pretty sure it bothered his dad a whole lot more than it bothered him. Pink water shoes.  Yep, he wore them for the entire summer that year.  They fit him, and they weren't falling apart.  I

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-30000412968699155172010-06-03T14:24:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:52:06.075-07:00

I was at the zoo the other day, on a field trip with J’s kindergarten class.  I was pushing R in the stroller and talking with another mom when she asked me about my pregnancy.  She shook her head and said, “Three?!  You’re brave.”  I laughed and told her that this would actually make five.  To which she responded quite seriously , “You’re crazy.”  She wasn’t smiling. I am not oblivious of the

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-66157674239153055092010-05-10T16:40:00.000-07:002010-06-03T14:50:57.653-07:00

Lest you think this photo was easy to take, I feel I must tell you that it was not.  There was grumpiness.  And bickering over who got to hold which flowers.  And not-so-good-natured jostling.  And a runaway toddler.  And a coffee table that was unsure it wanted to bear the weight of all of us sitting on it without cracking.  And a somewhat less-than-enthusiastic photographer. But the final

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5737105537852870500.post-84417335270146158812010-04-29T14:11:00.000-07:002011-07-22T21:41:19.744-07:00

Well, we found her.  Our second dog.  Shaggy's bliss should now be complete. In all honesty, I can't describe her as the "perfect" second dog.  Because first, she's a puppy.  And puppies are a pain.  Second, she has a nose for mischief.  Which, you may well think, should make her fit in perfectly around here in our house full of miscreants.  But her level of mischief has exceeded that of the

sistyuglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09121492230515262679noreply@blogger.com2