The Unstoppable Violet

(Violet is directly to the right of the center of this structure in the pink shirt. (Mia is to the left in a pink shirt))

Sisters

It's Happening! 

Cha-Ching!

Do I look lighter?  I should because I just emptied my pockets of $1600 to pay for my first class in grad school.  8)

I hear they sell Ramen noodles at Aldi's...

Mega-Update

It’s the end of the school year. The wickedly long school year, thanks to snow day upon snow day. Thankfully it hasn’t been blisteringly hot so the kids don’t seem to have noticed. The weeks have been filled with more activities than ever…spring concerts, swim practices, end of the year parties and theme days at school. We have actually managed to remember them all. That itself is a minor miracle.

Mia and Noah decided to join the town swim team this summer. I can’t handle the cuteness that is Mia in her little swim cap. She can make it down the lane without touching the rope lines, but she’s still working on breathing to the side. She currently looks like a little turtle bopping her head up every now and then. Her best little bud is also swimming and they’re having a blast. Noah blows me away with his bravery. To try a sport you’ve never done at his age takes guts. He’s loving the hard work outs and is having fun trying to beat his brother in the water. I enjoy seeing him check out his new muscles in the mirror when he thinks no one is looking.

Joseph is in his fourth year of swimming for the town team. His stroke is like butter, all smooth and dreamy. Reminds me of why I don’t swim. I’m rather like a dog that jumps off the dock and pops back up all wildly flailing for the shore. Joe’s hoping to lifeguard next season for his first official job. Perhaps our little home body will move out on hisown someday after all. I won’t hold my breath. Although maybe that would help my swimming???

In other news, I’ve enrolled to go back to school. I’ve known for a long time that I wanted to retool. I’ve loved my time in communications, but the field is so different now…so image and technology driven…it’s not so much about words anymore. Plus, the field is hard to balance with family life. While working at the preschool this year, I discovered how much joy I had in working with children with behavioral needs and how fulfilling it is to help parents learn strategies to interact with their kids in positive ways…that WORK.   So, this mama of five is working towards a Masters in Marriage and Family therapy. The end goal at this point is child behavioral specialist, but there are lots of other options the degree offers. Randall even suggested the possibility of us working together in marriage counseling in the future. We’ll see what God has in mind. I intend to go SLOWLY towards the degree at the advice of friends who went back to school later in life…going too fast at first is a sure way to burn out, apparently. So in one week I begin the one pre-req I didn’t have….statistics. Lord, have mercy. If the questions were things like “With five children, what are the chances the bathroom is clean?” I’d be in good shape. I could even answer, “If the youngest boy forgets to do his homework, what is the probability his mother will not take him to soccer practice until it is done?” I’m guessing it has more to do with those horrid questions about marbles in a bag. Remember those? There are 10 blue and green marbles in a bag. If 4 are not green…yada yada. I don’t care about the bag. I lost my marbles long ago.

People always ask how the girls are. They’re doing fabulously. They seem to have worked past most of the rivalry due to the adoption and now behave like sisters. They are often found holding hands, the cutest thing ever to behold…or doing hand rhymes like “Say Say My Playmate.” They stay up late whispering together at bedtime. That is, until Mia decides she’s tired and blames Violet for talking. She struggles with selective amnesia. 

Looks like Violet’s next and hopefully final surgery will be in October. She’ll need several big scans before that to prepare an individualized computer generated “road map” for the procedure. She’s getting excited about the new shoe. Her current shoe, by the way, is named Silly Willy. It happened one night when I was tired of saying “prosthetic shoe.” It’s just not practical. When we need shoes, we are already battling a clock to be on time…and if I say, “Please get your shoe,” she inevitably says, “Which one?” I reply the “prosthetic shoe.” It’s cumbersome, not to mention boring. So the mother who is all about fun suggested we name it. I remembered a joke my father in law used to say about a man with a wooden leg named Smith but the humor was lost and in her seven year old character she suggested the age-appropriate name of Silly Willy. You can now hear me yelling up the stairs, “Violet, grab Willy and let’s go.” I’m not sure that’s better, but what can you do?

Gabe’s year has been one of transformation. Doesn’t that sound big? He began fourth grade literally crying every day because he was being bullied by fifth graders. He.hated.school. So much so that Randall was in the principal’s office gently demanding (?!) action on his behalf and us praying about homeschooling. But his teacher rocked. She became an incredible advocate for him, tailored lessons to things that would pique his interest, even created opportunities for him to be in different areas of the school at times when he would’ve otherwise have had to deal with trouble makers. We’re so thankful. He has grown to like school again. And even says he can’t wait for next year when he gets to be in the oldest grade in the school!

He’s rocking the soccer field.  It's so fun to watch him! He's had several games with multiple goals. Wow!

He started the trombone this year. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard Hot Cross Buns by a beginner brass musician. (Ahem)

The grass is long in our yard. Like jungle length. The church mowers have broken and they’re being hijacked by a company that swears they’re repairing them. Clearly they work by the hour. Meanwhile, our clover is attracting families of rabbits near our newly planted garden. Gabe, of course, chases them with his bow and arrow and I wait for DCF to call.

Just kidding about the DCF part. What’s wrong with a little wascally wabbitt for dinner, anyway?

I’m thinking there are parts of me that will never fit into New England. Like the whole PETA, animal loving part. I mean, I’m against cruelty to animals. We don’t actually let Gabe shoot at the rabbit. But clearly New England is changing our children because they are definite tree huggers now. Poor Joseph was assigned to a debate in English class where is has to argue in favor of the deforestation of the Amazon. It’s literally upsetting his tender heart. “Mom! I mean, REALLY! Do you know how many birds there are there?” I patiently explain how valuing nature and animals is important, part of our task even from the beginning of time when God commanded Adam and Eve to take care of the earth…but that we always have to remember that people and animals are not the same. It reminds me of how I feel when I see bumper stickers about adopting animals. Those are everywhere. But bumper stickers about helping people? Not so common.

I went bathing suit shopping recently. (This is where I lose our male readers) Wanted something modest. I mean with three kids at the pool for swim team every day and two more in the kiddie pool, a girl needs to have something to wear. But I’m telling you. There is nothing. I can’t figure out how it’s ok to wear a bathing suit but not underwear in public. It’s the same thing. I feel old and antiquated saying that. And maybe also because I just used the word antiquated. But seriously, how is any man supposed to have a conversation around a bunch of women sporting cleavages south of Miami? The only man I want seeing what I’ve got going on is my man. Clearly, the hunt continues…

So speaking of my man, he’s good. He’s great, actually. Ministry is this crazy mix of amazing and brutally hard. And usually both within an hour of each other. “Hello, Pastor? God’s been working in my heart and I want to share my resources to reach a presently unreached people group with the Gospel!” and then “Hello, Pastor? Why did innocent kids have to die in Newtown? What kind of God lets that happen?” I’m so thankful he has an amazing pastor to share the burden with now. And it’s doubly awesome that my kids think Pastor John is “soooo cool!” It’s not every day that all my kids agree about something. Just ask us when we try to decide on family entertainment. Arthur? Survivor Man? NBA? Thank God for Gilligan’s Island. I’m not joking. The best is that the boys still fast forward through Ginger. “She’s just so weird, Mom.” Lol

No, there are no pictures with these random thoughts. That would be because we lost our camera. It had safely dropped behind our computer printer where it gathered lovely dust for three straight months. It’s now alive and well. Except for batteries.  I can only remember so many things at the store and this week toilet paper won.