Lake Life

Over huge bowls of icecream covered in Hershey's syrup, the girls had the following conversation.


Evelynn: Mom, what are we doing tomorrow?
Me: Pretty much the same thing we did this afternoon- swim, relax...
McKenna: And eat.
Evelynn: So that's it? That's all we are doing?
Caelan (condescending tone): We are at Grandma and Grandpa's house. We are SUPPOSED to swim and relax and eat all day.
Evelynn: Oh, well I guess I can't wait!


It's the good life on the lake. All four of my kids are water babies this year. I've never had any of the girls love to swim at four months, but Paxton loves the water. It's so much fun. Tomorrow, I've been instructed to make icecream, so it will be an even better day.

Story Time

We've been on the road quite a bit in the last few weeks, giving the girls lots of time to watch movies and chat. The following conversation between Evelynn and Caelan is so funny, mainly because Evelynn has nightmares about volcanoes (she was fascinated with them to the point where we studied them too much and she knows of their destruction). Evelynn: Hey, Caelan, tell me a story.
Caelan: Ok, once upon a time there was a town that had houses and lots of people living there. There was also a volcano. One day it erupted and burned up the town.
Evelynn: No! Not that kind of story!
Caelan: Ok, once upon a time there was a girl that got taken by bad people. They took her to a volcano and threw her in and she burned up.
Evelynn: No, No, No!!! Tell a different story.
Caelan: Ok, do you want a story about horses?
Evelynn: Sure, I love horses.
Caelan: Once upon a time there were some horses and they got burned up by a volcano.

Guess the Baby

I've been meaning to do this for several weeks now, so here goes. Guess which baby and THEN tell me who Paxton favors.

This of course, is Paxton:

#1

#2



#3

And a bonus one. Which sister is this? The resemblence is amazing. :)



The Blog

So right before I had Paxton, my sweet husband had the foresight to move the computer to the third floor in our home. Of course, at nine months pregnant it was hard enough to get up one flight, much less two. Then after Paxton's birth, it took a terribly long time to recover and I wasn't even walking up the one flight of stairs. And here we are. Paxton is 3 and 1/2 months old and I'm finally able to 1) make it up the stairs and 2) have a few spare moments away from four children. That, in itself, is a miracle.

Hopefully, at this point, my blogging days have returned. I've used my Apple products so heavily in recent months, I feel like all thumbs on a full keyboard, but hey, that's what 'delete' is for. Anywho, on a three month recap,  we had Paxton on February 11th, he was 7 lb, 15 oz and I can't remember how long he was. Seriously, he was #4. It was bound to happen. That's what a scrapbook is for. Luckily, I had him on the 11th, like two of his sisters: December 11th (Caelan) and June 11th (McKenna). Evelynn is a weird 14th of April.

We had a whirlwind month of March because of the girls' dance schedule. I had naively skipped the Irish Dance regional competition in January in lieu of the "Show" on the 31st of March because of the extra dance classes. I thought the Show would require much less and I wouldn't be pregnant and so on. Yeaaaaahhhh, for over three weeks we went on dance hyperdrive. We usually have dance on Monday nights and that is it. Once March was underway, we danced our way through a parade (the second parade was rained out-- my prayer was answered), through three weeks of Monday night, Thursday night, Saturday morning, a Sunday rehearsal and a Friday dress rehearsal... and then the big show. Did I happen to mention that they were in gymnastics, too? And I still wasn't able to get up the stairs to blog.

Recovery from this pregnancy has been wretched. There will be NO MORE baby Brannons for us. Just to be clear. My sweet baby boy was born healthy and is a beautiful newborn. He is very sweet natured and excessively laid back. I think he decided that a few hours after he got home from the hospital on Valentine's Day. It was just better to remain silent than to have three older sisters jumping every time he made a sound. He even began to shudder when he saw McKenna coming to his 'rescue'. Can't say that I blame him. McKenna is a very 'hands-on' sister. He opens his mouth and she's right there to put in his "facifier" or his "lid". The only time the sisters leave him alone is when he spits up, better known in this house as "His face is leaking" or "He's spilling". Caelan has declared this to be extremely gross, to which I remind her that she was the spit up fountain and should remain silent on the subject.

April flew in and out with a blink. I'm not sure what all happened that month. Evelynn turned six (tears over my first born being so much older and I'm in complete denial). She's doing amazing things for a kindergardner. We are at the cusp of reading. It's coming together in her mind and it's exciting. Numbers come easy for her (scary because that's not my thing, but we'll deal and she will excel). It's a fun time and I'm looking forward to 1st grade. (Eek). The calendar was so full for April that I got dizzy checking of the 'to-do' list. I had a dear friend get married the first weekend in May, so most of April was doing fun stuff like a wedding shower, bachelorette dinner, dress fittings (not so fun, thank you, Paxton), making her flowers and decorating the reception hall and church. Whew. Craziness. Oh, yes and a church retreat was thrown in there somewhere and a lovely time was had by all.

Now for May. Uh, deep breath. I had a beautiful Mother's Day. I had a card from Evelynn and she signed her name beautifully and all the letters in the right order and facing the proper directions. I had a super sweet cuddle time with McKenna, she stroked my face and said "You precious girl". I had a card from Keith and the girls (he forgot to write Paxton's name on it, which I find quite funny) but I got sweet time in with my little guy. I got a card from Caelan and a shell casing was taped to the front of the card. I'm not sure what that means exactly or if she even knew what it was. I'm going with she didn't know and that she thought it was a shiny shade of brass that needed to be shared with my on my special day. We have had family from other parts of the country stop by for quick visits, which for us is always fun because it so rarey happens. All along the way, I've been spring cleaning and getting my house back together postpartum. I love seeing bags of stuff go out the door. It's so freeing.

My schedule became my own once again this evening after the final dance class of the year. I am free from gymnastics and dance until the end of August. Happy dances and some blogging have followed. In the immediate future, I have Memorial Day weekend plans, organizing a birthday party for my McKenna and then the annual trek south at the end of June. Lots to do and never EVER a dull moment any more. Which reminds me, so many people have asked "What's it like having four kids now?" Well, let's see. I have very little sleep, I don't sit down during daylight hours (except for school with Evelynn, but even that's busy work) and I do laundry on a daily basis now. All this and the boy is not even walking yet. So I smile and say "Not much has changed, ask me in six months when I have four mobile children."

The Importance of Personal Responsibility

I'm not sure if skepticism comes with age. Instead of saying that I'm older, I'd like to think I was born with a good dose of it. I'm increasingly skeptical in what I see taking place in my generation and younger. The idea that there are no black and white truths, that anything can be justified and made okay by societal standards or even "Christian" standards of "God wants me to be happy" or "If we just love everyone to death, then we're all okay". Frankly, I could care less. We don't live in unicorn-rainbow land where everything is happy and gushy and in a constant state of perfectness. I'll save those feelings for heaven, thank you. I refuse to be bowled over and forced to accept the growing gray areas. There is a right and a wrong, and there always has been.

For these reasons, of absolute right and wrong, my children will learn personal responsibility. Evelynn especially has been learning this lesson. I do not accept blame being placed on any one or anything. If she gets in a scuffle with her siblings, I don't care who started it. Ultimately, it's in how she deals with it. I don't care if Caelan did something to her, she is responsible for how she chooses to proceed. She knows that I will not accept "but she did..." or "but she said..." I am fair. Everyone involved has some explaining to do. Caelan for starting something and Evelynn for how she responds.

We are now to a point that Evelynn is beginning to see that there are consequences for making wrong decisions and there is praise for making wise decisions. After any incidents, whether handled correctly or not, she admits that she is responsible for what she does. We talk about the wrong way and the right way to handle situations. She's very intuitive. Sometimes the "I'm responsible for my actions" is said excitedly because she knows she did the right thing and sometimes it's said in a barely audible mumble that trails off.

I'm so put off by the gray areas. It's yes or no. It's "I'm responsible for yes or no." There are consequences for yes or no. She's learning this. Society is well past accepting excuses for poor behavior and equally poor decisions. I hope and pray that my children will learn personal responsibilty and know that there are absolutes in behavior.

Boots

Memories are sacredly linked to the most mundane and simplest aspects of life. A moment in time is captured by a look, a phrase, a word, an object. When I think of Grandad, I think of a pair of boots. Bud Honkomp always wore boots. He didn’t so much in the last few years and I never adjusted to seeing anything else on his feet than black, pointy-toed cowboy boots. In my memory, those boots weren’t always on his feet but beside his recliner, waiting for me. They smelled of leather and I would trace the stitching on the toe and up the sides with my fingers. Of course, these were his ‘good’ boots. There was no way I would have done that with his ‘work’ boots. They certainly did not smell like leather alone and the stitching was caked with dirt.

When I was young, I used those boots to be like Grandad. There was no way I’d ever be over six feet tall, but I could walk in his shoes for a while. I spent a good amount of time attempting mastery of those boots. That was not the easiest thing to do when the tops of the boots were higher than my knees. It was awkward pulling them on. The first boot was easy. The second boot was the trick. The walk was a shuffle and I know I spent more time on the floor trying to stand back up after falling. I distinctly remember the carpet, too, an orange/red shaggy-like floor covering.

However, the best way to use his boots was to sit on the top of his feet while he was wearing them. Step after step his long legs swung me along. His stride seemed so long. It wasn’t quite like flying, but I’m sure I got some breeze in my hair. Grandad never said too much about his boots, unless I got a little rough with the ‘good’ pair. Then one day, I got my own pair of pointy-toed, stitched cowboy boots. They weren’t black like Grandad’s, but that was fine. I was like Grandad.

Grandad’s boots are hard to fill. I’m sure you could go down and get a pair of boots at the store exactly like the ones he had, but they won’t be his. Only he could fill boots like he did. And I will always try to be like my Grandad.

January 19, 1926 to April 7, 2012, a long life and an even longer legacy.

The following is a link to his obituary

http://owensandbrumley.com/obituary.php?id=2334

Delicate Conversation

Paxton and I have been home for two days now and the girls are enthralled with this new little being. Over the course of this pregnancy I have successfully evaded most questions that my curious five year old has tossed my way. I learned early on to shy away from specifics or Evelynn would announce to anyone that "My Mom has a uterus... with a baby in it." More often than I realized, my answers became "Uhhh, because that's how God made us." Thankfully, this answer has been good enough. Thankfully, Paxton was a c-section... that does wonders for explanations. Sometimes Evelynn produces her own reasoning from things she has learned. The following conversation took place on Tuesday soon after we arrived home with Paxton. "Mom! I put Paxton's pacifier in his mouth and look!!! He doesn't have teeth! How is he supposed to crunch his food?" "He won't have teeth for a long time. They will grow in when he's a little older." "But how can he eat?" "He drinks milk." "Where does the milk come from?" "From me because I'm his Mama." (I should say at this point that McKenna was bottle fed, making this conversation non-existent two years ago.) Evelynn just looked at Paxton and I wasn't sure where this conversation would end. Then she said "Oh, like a platypus." "Uhhhh, how's that?" (Totally didn't see that one coming... nor how to respond.) "A mother platypus lays on her side and her babies line up beside her. They drink the milk from the mother by sucking and that's what Paxton does." "Oh."