A trip down memory lane

As a mother of many young children, I attend a group called MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers). Twice a month, I get to put my children in childcare for a couple of hours and actually sit down and eat breakfast without cutting anyone else’s food. I get to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t spill their milk and does not talk with food in their mouth (usually). It is great. My kids love it. I love it.

This year’s MOPS theme is “Adventures in Mothering.” I think this if funny because my friend Peggy says to me all of the time that I need a top hat because it is a 3-ring circus here every time she calls. Well, our meeting was last Friday and we went around our tables and discussed one of our most “adventuresome” stories, which reminded me of one that I have not told yet. So, here it goes:

I have never been the outdoorsy type. Mostly because bugs and I just don’t get along. They bug me and I kill them. My parents would tell you that, as a kid, I was not like that. I used to go camping with dad, etc. Yes, I did go camping. However, when I reached adulthood, I decided that I did not have to do that anymore…I am an adult. I don’t want to. I don’t have to.

Wouldn’t you know it? God sends a wonderful couple into our lives: The Armstrongs. The Armstrongs love to go camping. They go camping as a family twice a year. It is a big family event. Everyone loads up the campers and heads to the hills…brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and wouldn’t you know it? The DeVries!

For the record, everyone in the Armstrong family has a camper of some sort. When asked to accompany them on their adventures, my darling husband goes out and buys a….tent. I will have to say that it is a grand tent. It will hold 12 people (albeit crazy ones) and it even has a front and a back door. Talk about style! Did I happen to mention that I HATE camping?

Okay, so now you know the background. Which, in ten years, will make this story even funnier. At the end of May, we load up our 12-passenger van with all the essentials, our four children, and me, who is 6 months pregnant. We follow the Armstrongs (who are towing their lovely camper) to Fall Creek Falls. Things are going great. I have exactly one can of bugs spray on me, I don’t have ankles anymore, and I have to walk uphill ¼ of a mile to the bathroom. GOOD TIMES! Then, one of the Armstrongs, who was watching TV in their camper hears that there are severe storms headed our direction. After much thought and consideration, it was decided that it would not come close enough to us (I am still unsure of who’s meteorology skills we depended on and that is probably best).

Well, you guessed it. In the middle of the night, the storm hit. I am not just talking about any storm. I really don’t think I have ever been in a bigger storm in my entire life. It rained so hard that Matt had to keep pushing the top of the tent up to get the standing water off so that the tent did not collapse. I just kept praying that the trees were very happy where they were and did not feel the need to fall on us!

Now, picture this: Matt is on a twin mattress. Faith is in the Pack n Play. I am on a queen blow-up mattress between Dylan and Addy. There is water gushing on our heads and I, of course, have to go to the bathroom. Matt and I are trying to decide on whether or not we should try to get to the van. We decide against it because we are afraid that, in running back and forth to get all the kids, one of us would get struck by lightening, fall, etc.

So, there we are, riding out the storm. I am laying there, looking up at the top of the tent and lightening strikes. The whole tent lights up and I now see it so clear! The ceiling of our tent is shaped exactly like a circus tent. That all-famous music came to my head…do do do do do do do do do do do. How poetic my life is! It is so funny the things God uses at just the right time to remind us that HE is in control and we just need to chill out a little!

He Said, She Said

"Dad...wanna play Tag-Carrot?" (Addy) (Of course, she meant "Tag..You're It!")

He Said, She Said

"This house is too dirty for me to have this baby right now." (Courtney)

A Lesson In Nutrition

On Friday, I had decided to make spaghetti. After all, it is something every child (including the husband one) will eat without turning up their nose in disdain. Really, a win-win situation. Of course, in pure “Courtney fashion,” I am not one to pop open a jar of Prego and pour it on some pasta. Nope. I grew up with homemade spaghetti and that is what my kids will do! So, I started chopping up the onions, mushrooms, black olives, etc. At that point, Faith pulls up a chair saying, “See! See!” In only a few seconds, she had spotted the black olives…and she wanted one! So, I gave her one and sent her on her way…knowing the child would spit it out on the floor and I would have a mess to clean up later. Well, I was wrong and, in less than thirty seconds, she was back for more. Of course, I did not believe that she actually ate it so I stopped my slicing to help her look for her olive. After saying, “more” about fifty times and proceeding to throw herself on the floor, I was convinced that she ate the said olive. So, I gave her another one. Two cans of olives later (I think I got at least a can actually into the spaghetti sauce), I managed to convince my 18 month-old that they were all gone. She even went as far as going to the pantry to see if I had mistakenly told her an un-truth.

Then dinner came. A beautiful meal complete with fresh green beans and homemade French bread. I laid the spread out before my daughter and she then discovered the hidden truth! Much to her delight, the black olives were hiding in the sauce!

So much for a (somewhat) healthy meal, because when it was all said and done, Faith had two cans of olives in her stomach and nothing else. Yet, my sauce now seemed to be lacking in them. Who am I to argue with a toddler? I mean, at least she ate something, right? I would even consider it better than the cup of ketchup she devoured at the last meal. I am definitely moving up!

The King . . . of Easy Street

My husband is a great father…a real “get-your-hands-dirty” type of guy. There is no kid duty that is too dirty (although he has whimpered a few times at Faith’s dirty diapers). He has no problem taking all four of them to the grocery store and he is not too manly to sit down for an evening Tea Party with Addy.

Last night, after a LONG day at the office, my wonderful husband came home, played with the children for a while, and then proceeded to put them to bed…ALL BY HIMSELF! What a great husband!

This morning, my beautiful children with their warm, shining smiles, came in and greeted me…ALREADY DRESSED! Now, this would seem like a dream come true, right? I mean, all I need to do is teach my three and four year olds how to peel grapes and I could just stay in bed all day! Well, the only problem with this scenario is that the clothes they are wearing looking suspiciously like the clothes that I put on them the previous day. In fact, they are! I would notice that chocolate stain anywhere!

You see, Matt just loves to put the kids to bed in their clothes. I have convinced myself that he is only doing this for me. I am sure that much thought and evaluation went into the decision. “Why should my wife have to wash an extra set of clothes (times 4) AND pajamas?” He thinks to himself. “My wife is pregnant and does not need the extra task of all that laundry. Besides, they WANT to sleep in the oatmeal crusted shirt. All they are going to do is get ‘more dirty’ tomorrow. They can just get these clothes dirtier!” I not only have a thoughtful husband, but a resourceful one too!

Needless to say, my kids are still in the same clothes. It is probably a good thing since they are playing outside. Sometime today, I will give them a bath and put new clothes on them. Who knows? Maybe those will last until tomorrow morning!

Well, I had better go. I have to wash the sheets!

The Boy's Wing

Just a couple of pictures of Dylan and no-name baby's (since Matt and I can't seem to agree) room. See, and you thought that wit was all that I had going for me! The girl can paint too!

Paint, Paint, and More Paint

Well, after about a month, a few swollen feet, and a lot of aching back, I am finally done with the girls’ room. Since I mentioned it in my last post, I figured I should post some pictures so that you could see just how crazy I am (and Buffy, for that matter, since she did it first).
I now have the baby’s room, Dylan’s room and Addy and Faith’s room done. All I have left is Alex’s room which I started last night. The kid’s bathroom has been officially termed the “painting bathroom”. There is every size of paintbrush and every color of paint one could ask for…looks like Home Depot threw up in there. Hopefully, I will finish all this nonsense and have at least a day to rest before the baby comes…only 34 days left!

Footprints in the sand...Handprints on the wall...

As many of you know, and some of you who don’t, I have about 6 weeks left in my pregnancy. For those of you who are pregnant, that is 47 days. With that said, I am going through the nesting phase. This time, though, it is a very severe case. I have been up on a six foot ladder the last three weeks painting the kid’s rooms. If that is not enough (and as if I had time) the base boards, pantry, etc. are getting a very good cleaning. I can almost hear their sigh of relief as I wash the two-year build-up of dust that has accumulated.

Well, I just had the greatest idea today. I thought that while the kids were down for their nap, I would touch up the walls. You know, all the little hand prints, nose prints, foot prints (from temper tantrums, of course) that leave their mark. Although, I would hardly say that “touch-up” is an accurate statement because I actually end up painting the entire wall as I have 4 ¾ kids with lots of fingers and toes.

As I was touching up one said wall, I came across a perfect handprint. All five fingers were perfectly pressed into my master bedroom wall. It brought to mind a story I heard once about two neighbors that were talking outside their houses. One woman, who had several children, was looking at how beautiful the other woman’s front glass door was. Not a handprint in sight! A perfect pane of glass that you could actually see through! The other woman, who had been trying to have children for years, was looking at that mom’s dirty, smeared front glass door thinking how beautiful it would be to have one just like it.

Isn’t it all in our point-of-view? Matthew and I are so very blessed. Sure, we have had our share of heartaches, but we have 4 beautiful children with all ten fingers and toes. They are healthy, happy (for the most part!) and WHAT do I have to complain about?

So, I left it there…in all of its glory. Maybe I will frame it to remind me of what I am put here to do…and it is not to erase all the fingerprints.