Porter was Here

The other day i went to grab a few apples to put in my juicer. I saw this:

I knew instantly who it was.

Because this happened over and over every summer:

I called Porter.

I asked him if he knew what happened to that apple.

He quickly responded, "That was me. I did that. "

Exasperated, I asked, "Why didnt you eat it all? Why did you just bite it and put it back?"

He shrugged and said as he walked away, "'Cause it wasn't a tomato."

Reason number 800 that proves this child is very different from the others.

shelf life

The other day, I was in the library absently staring at the books on the shelves, when I realized something. You can tell everything about someone by the books they have on their shelves.

Their hobbies:

 Their goals:

Their major in college:

If you look at my shelves you can see my religion:

 

You can see I am a mother:

 I read poetry:

You can tell by worn bindings which are the favorites:

 You can tell children live here:

 You can tell someone reads for fun [me] :

 And someone reads to learn [not me]:

You can tell we  have a diabetic child.

You can see we have a daughter (thanks to the entire shelf of american girl books).

You can tell we have boys (thanks to the star wars, lego and superhero book shelf).

Which artists we find interesting, what we find funny, and places we would like to visit.

Everything you need to know about us is right there on the shelf. 

Our shelf life.

Although some things may not be entirely explained:

anatomy of a sunday afternoon

Sunday is my favorite day of the week. It's the only day I know we will all be together (for the most part). It's also the day we unplug. The TV stays off, the ipods are docked and the itouches are turned into us. (too much of a temptation to play temple run 2). We do this so our older kids will engage. I think it's just really easy when you are raising a bigger family to allow some kids to tune out. To be there in the room, but not present. I want my kids to have memories of being together. And for that reason, we have an unplugged day once a week. (Our one exception to this is, we will occasionally watch a movie as long as its something we are all doing together.)
So what happens when you unplug?
You get bored kids.
But here is a secret: bored kids usually translates into some kind of fun if you ride it out.

Our afternoons, consist of:

Racing home from church and jumping immediately into ratty house clothes. Then lunch. We are a fan of rituals and traditions here, and it seems Sunday lunch is always the same. Tuna sandwiches and strawberries.
We sit around our table and talk about church. What happened, what we learned, which is usually a nice segway for Brian into some kind of lecture. The kids moan and groan (little ones leave the table and Hailey goes to the piano to play the Harry Potter theme song), but they listen. They digest it. And hopefully, it helps them somehow.

The party somehow makes it's way into the library

where Jonas ponders,  Hailey reads, Luke gets his diaper changed, Porter plays, Caleb gets hyper and Brian and I try to hold some sort of conversation.

Usually someone makes someone cry.

And someone gets reprimanded and consequently pouts:

Hailey or Jonas will spout of random facts about the Titanic or Abraham Lincoln [hailey] or about the earth or how things work [Jonas].

This particular afternoon, Hailey told us the history of candy. Caleb listened with all the love in his heart.

All the talk of candy reminded Jonas of those jellybeans that taste like all sorts of disgusting things. I remembered I had box saved.

 In this box of jellybellys there are two kinds that look the same. One is gross, while the other is good.

  I gave the kids the same color, knowing that one or more would end up with the barf flavor, or skunk spray, rotten egg, or pencil shavings.

Hilarity ensued.

 Laughter and more laughter.

Usually people start to fall asleep. [Luke and Brian].

Then we bring the party down by setting out art stuff. This time, just plain paper.

Caleb the capitalist, always tries to sell his artwork for money to everyone.
The afternoon slowly ends and bring on the evening.
I love Sunday afternoons. The chaos, the talking, the laughing, even the yelling and the crying. I know someday I will be sitting in my quiet house with no one but Brian to talk to, and I know we will talk about this time. These afternoons, when we were tired of the loudness, the chaos, these afternoons we wished for some peace and quiet. We will speak of them with fondness and wish with all our hearts we had one of them back again.

Minus the poopy diapers. Neither one of us will miss those.

peas in a pod

Caleb and Porter

Caleb is my brown eyed boy, Porter is my blue eyed boy.
Caleb leads and Porter follows.
Porter eats the hot dog, Caleb eats the bun.
Caleb is easy going, Porter falls apart without advance notice.
Caleb loves blue, Porter loves brown.
Porter loves being on his own, Caleb needs people. Lots of people.
Caleb is daring, Porter couldn't be more cautious.
Porter eats anything but chocolate, Caleb won't eat a thing besides chocolate.

But

They both love legos.

They both love books.

They both love potty humor.

They both love baths.

They both superheros.

They both love mario brothers.

They both love to wrestle.

They love each other

 and they adore their baby brother.

When I watch the two of them together, I think Luke is a blessed boy to have these amazing brothers.

They will be his protectors.

His teachers.

His audience.

His example.

His entertainment.

The babies of the family always have it so good.

i did it my way

I had a baby in June. Right in the throws of summer, when children are home, and the sun beats too intensely to spend all day outside.

When I brought my little baby home to meet his three brothers and his one and only sister, they were instantly intensely in love. Everyone was constantly wondering where he was, what he was doing, wondering what he was thinking, commenting on his every feature down to his teeny tiny fingernails.

And they all wanted to hold him.

ALL THE TIME.

We had to set a timer so everyone got to hold the little one the exact same amount of time. Because if you grew up with siblings you know everything has to be fair and everything has to be measured or the crap hits the fan. Truth.

The baby fascination didn't let up all summer. Then fall came and swept three children off to school.

Suddenly all those hands were gone.

And that sweet little baby didn't know what to do with himself.

We and our family full of eager arms had created a monster.

School has been in session for 6 months now. And I still spend the my time holding the monster or putting him down and listening to him cry. Trying not to trip over him as he crawls after me, muttering, "mamamamamama..."

Finally after some dishes are loaded, a meal is made, a mess picked up, I give in. I pick that giant monster up  and hold him. And he calms, he sighs, and he smiles. He knows he got his way.
I smile. I know he got his way today, but I also know something else. I know that many, many days after tomorrow, when that giant monster baby grows into a young boy, he won't be crying after me. He won't mutter mamamama. He won't want to cuddle his mom. But I will have the memories of his tiny baby hands frozen with sleep

 and the feel of his chubby arms wrapped around my neck burned into my heart.  And I will know then that I got my way too.

a moment

Saturday morning came and found me without a husband and two of my children for a few hours (Caleb and Hailey). Porter was sick and in need of all of me. (you know those mornings) as I busied myself tending to him and his every need, Jonas took control of the baby. (I love having a helper!)
By the time I settled Porter enough to sit down and cuddle him, Jonas had gotten Luke to fall fast asleep on his chest. Soon, porter was fast asleep against me.
The house was quiet.
Morning light was pouring in from the library window.
Snow was gently falling outside.
I watched Jonas (but only in the stealthy sort of way. teenagers don't like to be stared at. that's in parenting 101)
Jonas was absent mindedly rubbing the back of his baby brother. Jonas' legs were hanging off the couch due to the ever increasing length of him.
And just like that, I was comforted.
Parenting is hard. (shocking truth.)
Parenting little ones is no where near as hard as parenting giant tweenagers.
The worry and the fear of are you doing it right, saying it right, loving them right is so much more intense; it is all consuming sometimes.
But on that snowy Saturday morning, watching Jonas cuddle his sweet baby brother, I felt peace. Peace that everything is going to be okay all the time? Nope. Peace that he is the perfect child and won't make mistakes? Big no. Peace that I am the all knowing mother who will always know the perfect thing to say or do in any given situation? Biggest no.
Instead, I felt peace in the comforting thought that there is love in this house. There is love in this family and that the love Brian and I have for each other and for our kids will heal a lot of the broken heart moments we are wading through now, and the ones we will wade through in the future.
The mistakes, the failures, the hurt.
Peace that if we continue with love, that we can overcome all of the junk with time.
It was such a gift of a moment.
I would have taken a picture if it wouldn't have been against Jonas' life rules to have photos taken of him. Dang that kid.

mornings in the library

When the last child walks out the door at 8:05 a.m., Porter, Luke and I start our mornings in the library.
We tackle a few books,
tell a few jokes,
color a few pages,
and squeeze in a few tickling sessions.

Porter is a boy who lives for routines.
Like none of my other children.
He needs our mornings in the library. He needs to read the same stories, he needs to color in the same coloring book, he needs Luke to play with the same toys.
Mornings in the library are slow. And Porter gets to be in charge.
He runs the activities like a drill sergeant.
On mornings when the others are home from school, we abandon our library time. It's not to be shared with the others. This is how he likes it. But after an extra long weekend or an extended break from school, I can see the relief in his face, I can hear the happiness in his voice when HIS library time is back. The world is set right again.
Soon, Porter will go to school, and mornings in the library will be over and he won't ever think of them again.

But I will.

I will always treasure our mornings laughing,
snuggling,
tickling,
learning
and being together.