Rockwell, Ethan and Caroline

These are my kids lately:


Congratulations to Jack. He is 5 1/2 and can finally pump himself on a swing. Good thing he figured it out before kindergarten or else he would be that kid.


See? I told you Van has a huge mouth. Not sure what he is worked up about in this picture. Probably something to do with a denied refill of milk in his sippy cup.


And Violet is still really adorable and perfect. And blue-eyed.

I don't camp, but they do.

Camping isn't my thing. When I camp, I complain. When I complain, I sound immature and then Ethan starts questioning why he married me in the first place. So I try to avoid camping. It's a little hard to do when I married into a family that does these enormous camping family reunions. I have only had to buck up once, but as my children get older, I will have run out of excuses, aka, new baby.


This summer is the giant reunion in Arizona and I am sending Jack, Van with Ethan while Violet and I stay at home and paint our nails and drink mai-tai's by the pool. To prepare Jack for camping, they have started practice runs. The first practice run was last week. Ethan came home late one night and asked if Jack had anything on the docket for the next day. I said no and he replied, "Good, him and I are going camping."


That night, I tucked Jack in bed with dreams of camping dancing in his head. Later on in the evening, I peeked in his room and he was sleeping with his army clothes on. I woke him up and asked him why he was wearing his army clothes and he replied very plainly, "Mom, I am going camping tomorrow. I need to be ready to go." In the morning, he packed his bag. He put in his blanket, some gumballs, some of my metal barbecue skewers (he said that army men need those when they go into the wilderness) and a water bottle. And then I packed his bag. Is clean underwear too much to ask?


So camping they went and it was bliss for them. They went fishing, did a little bit of hiking and had roasted marshmallow and Pringle sandwiches. Sounds disgusting. I was so proud when I heard that he ate his breakfast trout like it was ribs. Cleaned the bones. I just love that.

Yes, that's root beer for breakfast. Doing it up Dad style.

Jack is now prepped for a few days of family reunion camping. Now the only issue is Van. It's going to be so much fun getting that boy to sleep in a tent. But that isn't my problem. Have fun Ethan!

Peace Out Officer Ingram

So what? A picture of a door and a very Georgia O'Keeffe-esque painting (painted by my very talented sister, BTW). Well, its a picture of a new chain lock on my garage door. And there is another one on my front door. Am I afraid of intruders? No, I am sick of Jack escaping.

I spend a fair amount of time sitting on the couch feeding Baby Violet. Like for 30 minutes every 2 hours. During feeding time, Van gets into everything he shouldn't, like dish soap, the kitchen garbage, DVDs, the food processor blade attachments, baby wipes- the usual. While Van is busy, Jack likes to slippity-do-dah out the door to roam the neighborhood on his bike or scooter. The result is me having to pack up the babies in my car and go comb the neighborhood for my escapee. And having to do that really bakes my biscuits.


Remedy? I lock him in the house while I feed Violet. And so far, it's going quite well. And I know it is going well because he hates it.

Diapers, Boots and Violet

Yes, we are those neighbors that let our kids run around in their diapers.


We are also those neighbors with the imaginative child that dresses up as an "army man" everyday. All of the bad army guys go to jail. Jail is my laundry room. The uniform consists of camo print anything, black rain boots from Wal-Mart, the free Similac backpack from the hospital and a Super Soaker.


And we are also the neighbors that have a really cute new baby. Violet, Violet. Sweet, perfect darling daughter.


KEEPING IT REAL: The baby is the easy part. Please bless that I don't kill my other two children. Please, please, please.

My children lately

Van is learning colors right now. He really likes taking crayons out of the crayon bucket and naming the colors. "Boo, geen, puhpuh, lellow." Then he pulls out brown. "Poop". And I am not going to change that. It's just too adorable.


It has been snowing off and on over the last few weeks and has broken Jack's heart in the process. He is sick of snow and wants sun. He just want to play outside without the weather interrupting his plans. Yesterday morning, he asked this. "Mom, is it going to snow today after tomorrow? Like snow on tomorrow's today? I mean, is it going to snow on next week's today tomorrow? Grrr, I don't know what I am saying." I replied, "You mean is it going to snow tomorrow? Hopefully not."

I have finally made the grand list of things to do and buy for Baby Sister due in May. I am finally feeling excited instead of melancholy. One of the things on my list of to-do's is making some freezer meals for us to have on hand after Sister comes.

Do you have any recipes/ideas for freezer meals
that you and your family like?

Shower

When pregnancy makes bathing the boys a difficult task, you give that task to your spouse. And then he gives them a shower. So smart! I could have been giving these two weirdos showers all along instead of bathing them.

Some thoughts on Jack

Jack. He is great. He is 4 1/2 and feisty. He is starting to tell me he doesn't cuddle anymore. He won't let me get him dressed anymore. And he takes showers now. Showers, I know. Sometimes, Ethan will let Jack use some of his Axe shower gel and it worries me because that stuff is supposedly liquid sex in a bottle. Have you seen the commercials?

Jack just got orthodic inserts for his shoes. And they might as well be gilded in gold because they are costing us a fortune. Sadly, they aren't gold, they are neon yellow. He got them because he has inherited a few weird foot traits from his daddy. Thanks a whole lot Ethan.

Do you want to know how to get your 4 year old to be quiet in sacrament meeting? When candy, cars, crayons, books and death threats don't work, teach him how to write potty words. Last Sunday, by the closing hymn, reverent Jack was able to write "poop", "bum" and "fart". Ethan and I kept looking at each other as Jack was gleefully writing the words of his dreams. "Is this what our lives have come to???" Apparently yes.

Jack has a thing for potty words and inappropriate words. And I have decided to pick my battles. I decided the fight is either between "butt" and "sexy". I have chosen to fight over him saying "sexy". So we will have to let "butt" slide. If you meet Jack and he starts saying "butt", just be glad he isn't tell you that you are sexy. Or maybe not. It could be flattering. But probably not because he is 4.

Chef Sous Chef

Jack is an imagination extraordinaire. For Christmas, he wants overalls so he can pretend to be a farmer. He wants rain boots to complete his firefighter garb. If he is dressed up like a soldier he has to make sure it is accurate. "Mom, do army guys chew gum? Mom, do army guys wear white socks? Mom, do army guys listen to Christmas music?" Everyday he is something.

Today he is a chef. I asked him what his chef name is and he said, "Chef Sous Chef". Here is a sample of his menu verbatim.

"Well, we've got mayo, salami, chicken, roast beef with mayo on it and ketchup. People think it's so good. Pineapple with mayo with ketchup with roast beef. Chicken cheek, turkey with snow turkey. Alcohol with mayo. Alcohol with beer, um then, chicken feet, roast beef, we have a lot of roast beef. Chicken and a lot of mayo. Red pasta, black pasta, orange pasta. We don't have the yellow kind because that's gross. Salami pizza, pepperoni with olives with mushrooms with tomatoes.

For dessert, we have gravy, ice cream, milkshakes. Orange milkshakes, chocolate milkshakes, red strawberry, pineapple. Ice cream orders, pizza orders. Banana orders, pizza orders, salami orders. We do all those orders."

He has a great imagination, but we need to work on his menu. Gross.

Purple Leo

Today I sent my husband and four year old to Southern California. Ethan has catered Thanksgiving dinner for the same family for the past seven years. And this year is no exception. I sent Jack with him so he could log in some quality cousin time.

I just called Ethan to ask where they were on the road. Jack answered and told me about two new tractors Daddy bought him at the store. A steam roller and a back hoe bulldozer combo. As a mother with boys, you learn the exact terminology for each tractor and truck.

After telling me all about his new toys, he asked, "So how is my wife?" Did you know Jack is married? He is, to his imaginary wife Purple Leo.

"So how is my wife?" he asks.

"Oh, she is fine. She has been hanging out with me today. She misses you." I replied.

"At church on Sunday, the baby kept asking her for a bah-bah. It was so funny. Make sure you take good care of my wife and my baby until I get back." he said.

So while Jack is gone, I will be taking good care of Jack's imaginary wife Purple Leo and his imaginary baby. That's what any good mother would do.

A new family

UPDATE 10/24: Here is a paragraph with a whole bunch of "ifs". If you clicked over to this post looking for the controversial comments from a unsolicited social-worker and my fiery sister, you aren't going to find it here. Seeing as this isn't a parenting blog, I deleted them. This may be a public blog, but it is still my blog and I can decide what I want put on it. If you are looking for my sister Megan's post on this and you are one of my regular readers, you know where to find her. Her's is a blog specializing in controversy so go read up about this over there. If you are here from some random parenting message board, I hope you like to cook because this is a food blog. If you are here to put in your two cents, don't worry about it. Comments are closed. And if I get any e-mails regarding this post, me poking my eyes out of my head will be your fault.

Whilst I was away on my weekend getaway sans children and spouse, I got a phone call from Ethan. He sounded frantic.

"We have some parenting to do right now. Jack was smothering Van on the couch and so we are now in the car on our way to the police station so he can get a new family because he obviously doesn't want to be in ours. I even packed his bags." (He really did. Full effect is important.)

(Wailing of the Jack brand is commencing in the background)

Ethan explained to me all of Jack's sins. They were pretty bad. And did merit a big scare that only Ethan and I can concoct. And Ethan didn't disappoint.

I asked Ethan if I could talk to Jack. Jack was put on the phone and we chatted. We talked about what it means to be a big brother and what is acceptable and what's not.

"Do you want to be in our family? Do you need a new one? Because if you can't be nice to our family, you will have to go to jail until the police can find you a new one. You will be in jail and you will miss out on Primary (church), preschool and Halloween. So you need to decide if you want to be kind and be in our family."

(Wailing) "I do! I do! I am sorry!! I love my brother!"

And then comes the part where I get nice.

"Jack, we love you and we think you are fun and smart. We like having you in our family. I need you to try harder to be nicer to your brother. He is a baby and you are a big boy. Please try harder because I want you to be in our family forever."

"Okay Mom, I will be nice. I love you."

And it seemed to do the trick. Ethan said he was a sweet, kind little boy from then on. The question is, how long will it last? And at what point will I need to actually convince a cop to play along? And at what point will I get an e-mail from some enraged reader telling me that Ethan and I are crappy parents? Hey, sometimes you need some comedy when it comes to parenting, even if it is at your child's expense.

For those of you with little boys...

If you have a little boy that loves trucks, trains, boats, planes and every thing in between, you need this book. "Mighty Machines" by Adam Hibbert, Chris Oxlade and James Pickering. It's an absolute steal at under $10 considering it is over 250 pages.


Jack has had this book for a few years and he still could sit for half an hour and be completely entertained. Plus, it is full of information that I never knew. Fastest truck in the world? Hawaiian Fire Department's custom-built truck that goes 400 mph. Wouldn't have known that if it weren't for the book. You never know when you will need to know that kind of information. Like what if you went on Jeopardy?

I like this picture

Jack's last summertime trampoline sprinkler jump.

Now if you will excuse me while I catch up on "Lost" on Hulu. I should nap while my little sons do, but I am dumb and I want to watch "Lost" instead. I am so going to regret this come 5:00ish.

A picture that warms my heart

Jack and Angela Kinsey from "The Office"

When Ethan e-mailed this to me, I replied and asked, "Did you tell her that she has made me laugh so hard that I have woken up my sleeping children?"

Don't cry for me

Today, my baby starts preschool.


It is a day of mourning, rejoicing and reflection. Mourning because I have a kid big enough to go to preschool and I could swear I was nursing him yesterday (thank heavens I wasn't. 4 seems a little old.). Rejoicing because I love moving into new phases and watching him grow. And reflection because I am so pleased with the child he is becoming. It is a complete joy to watch my boys learn and develop and I am sure many moms can relate.

Conversal

Don't be fooled.

These little laceless Chuck Taylors are cute. There is no doubt about that. But they are absolute HELL to try and shimmy onto my 4 year old's feet.

I only buy one pair of play shoes for Jack. And it's always some Converse Chuck Taylors. They are durable, timeless and come out of the washing machine like new. I have almost every pair he has ever gone through and I keep them in my special "Mom Box". A few weeks ago, I went to Nordstrom to buy his next size up and my brain really let one rip. I got laceless Chucks and I regret it as bad as I regret going to prom with Chase Thayer. That date was ridiculous.

So word to the wise mother, stick with the laced Chuck Taylor's. Don't be fooled by the allure of laceless Chucks. You will curse under your breath as you try and wedge them onto your kid's feet.

Wacka-doo

Son One
No longer 3

I used to post a lot of "Conversations with a 3 year old". I don't really anymore because the kid just isn't as funny. I mean, he's funny, but he's older and talks A LOT. Like is constantly talking. And usually about nothing. Nothing as in, "Mom, sit down and I want to talk to you about how horses eat squirrels and then turn into bees". See, nothing. He mostly sounds completely insane. Like, "Mom, do cowboys like chocolate? Because if they do, I want to pretend to eat chocolate after dinner, but you have to give me some chocolate." See, insane.

Besides talking about nothing and being insane, he does have moments, and I will try to be better about posting them. I know some people like reading them. Maybe I will bring back some of Jack's greatest hits, like when he yelled at the wrestlers at a wrestling match about Jesus killing them.

Being Forward

I am not sure that there is any worse of a driving hazard than a forward-facing car seat. I should be driving, but all I want to do is watch my baby in the rear view mirror. It is so hard to "just drive". Why drive when I can make him laugh or watch him eat a pretzel? The best is being able to watch his little eye lids get heavy and see him drift off to dreamy land. I never get to see that at home, so of course I am going to watch in the car.

Does Jack get jealous of all of my flirting with Van? Oh heavens yes. He hates it. So beasty older brother gets his toes tickled too and then everyone is happy, at least until Mommy kills everyone because she is busy making crazy faces in the mirror and then hits a car.

Brotherly Love

Geez boys, you guys brothers?

Taking a much needed break after traveling along the boring 15 in Nevada.

Sometimes I think about how much I love having two little boys.
I can't really explain what I love about it,
but I am sure other mother's of little boys can understand.

$7 Worth of Anxiety

I have this huge, irrational paranoia of spending money. Maybe it's because I have none. Maybe it's a good thing. Last week, on an afternoon trip to Wal-Mart (gasp) with sister Kitty, I splurged. I bought a $7 inflatable pool. I know, risky move spending that kind of dough. I will have anxiety over it for a week.

We got home just in time for naps. Two sweaty, tired boys went down and then I got the pool ready. Van's nap wasn't as long as I would have hoped, but it was fine. I could enjoy another hour or two with just him and no older brother hopping around for attention. So I introduced Van to the pool. And it was the cutest thing that I ever did see.

How do you like his wake up hair?

I was too excited about the pool to take the time to comb it.

Once the thrill of the pool subsided, my anxiety over $7 began. I fidgeted and worried and regretted my purchase. The next morning, Jack finally noticed the pool. He couldn't wait for the water to warm up so he could take an afternoon dip. Later, we were out on the patio next to the pool blowing bubbles. Jack happily popped bubbles and jumped around. And then while he was all caught up in bubble-popping, he fell face-first, fully-clothed into the pool. Most hilarious thing I have ever witnessed that kid doing. Then all the sudden, the pool was the best $7 ever spent.

Christmas in May

Last Christmas, cool Uncle Tadd made arrangements for the coolest gift ever. On Christmas Day, Jack couldn't believe his little eyes. A big-boy, real set of golf clubs. He would stroll around the house with the clubs on his back, mumbling about birdies and bogies. Unfortunately, there was 2-3 feet of snow outside and it's hard to find a white ball in the white snow.


Now that the snow has melted, golf is in full force. There will be days that Jack golfs in the backyard all day. He only stops for lunch and bathroom breaks and occasionally doesn't even make it in time for that. Sometimes, I take Jack and his clubs to the park for a change of golf scene. While he is out talking to his imaginary golf friends, I push Van in the swing. That little thing loves the swings- for like 45 minutes at a time. Am I going to be arrested by the mom police for forgetting to put sunscreen on him one time?

Often, Jack's Saturdays are spent with his dad at the golf course. Luckily, we live next to one, so after the front 9, I can come over and pick him up. Apparently, his golf etiquette disintegrates after 9 holes.