Their Sayings

Durham:  
Uh oh.  I dropped my juice!  (A few months ago it would have been "drop juice")
Aaaaahhhhhh!  [While in the covered bridge or under an overpass.  He learned last summer from cousin Jeff and his family that one must scream whilst in tunnels.]
Surprise!  Happy Birthday! [When the lights come on after it had been dark in a room]
Where's Durham? [When he can't find Ainsley]
Hey buddy.  [Every morning when he saunters out of his bedroom]
Come, Lord Jesus, gifts, bless.  AMEN!  [When praying at mealtimes]
Listen heart.  Bum bup.  Bum bup.  [with the stethoscope]
NOOOOO! [in response to everything]
Mommy, juice.  [When he's sad and wants something.  It's a call to Mom and for juice, even if he's talking to Dad and wants a truck.]
His all time favorite words and phrases are  : No, don't, shoes, uh-oh, stuck, broken, and juice.

Ainsley:  
Everyone can eat as many cookies as they are old.  Sorry, Durham, you only get two.  I GET FOUR!!
Is the president a professor?  [While watching the news]
I WILL NOT EAT SPICES.  Yuck.  [While watching Mama cook]
Salt is my favorite.  [While eating cucumbers]
You have blood in your mustache, Daddy.  [Examining his facial hair from 1 cm away]
That bird keeps showing me his booty.  [While playing outside]
Can I put this cheese in that hole in the wall?
I cannot listen to my mother.  I have to listen to my heart.

And a closing picture of Wrenn for ya:  

The Reset Button

Some parenting days are worse than others.  I've recently had one of the bad days.

When we had one child, I was able to address her behavior the moment the ill behavior was exhibited.  Nipped it right in the bud even though Ainsley was a typical two year old who wanted to run into traffic, throw her food on the floor, hit us, scream, what have you.

Nipped it in the bud.  Done.

Then we had three kids.  Those little rascals always seem to know when you simply cannot get up to address their issue.  It's when the oven timer is going off and the baby is crying and someone left the water on in the bathroom and the doorbell is ringing.

That's when they choose to test you.

And that's when I can be patient.  Patient enough to remember that every moment is a teachable moment.  Patient if I've had a modicum of sleep.

If I've gotten some sleep I can try to address each child's forays into the wild side.  (And Durham's wild side appears to be much more aggressively wild than Ainsley's was.)

But there are days when everything goes wrong hour after hour.  I drop Ainsley off at school, and Durham has yet another tantrum.  An aggressive tantrum in which he's kicking and hitting me while I'm trying to carry him and his crying baby sister back out to the car.  One that causes all the other parents and school workers to give me the look.  The look that says, "Shouldn't you be addressing this behavior rather than just carrying him to the car?"

And then he'll get so upset that I won't let him play in the rain that he throws the remote control so that it nearly hits his baby sister.

And then Ainsley refuses to eat anything except candy and decides to exhibit a Durham-like tantrum in order to get what she wants.

And then I find marker all over the white carpet and walls.

And then I find Durham throwing cars into the toilet.

And it goes on and on until bedtime.  Sweet, sweet bedtime.  The ideal parenting time to slow it down, talk about the day, read books, and pray together.  Except that's not always the way bedtime goes.

Not on the bad days.

And so everything has gone wrong, the kids are ill-behaved, and they are all crying.  I'm coming unglued from the thought of all the dishes and laundry and cleaning I'll finally be able to do once the kids finally go to sleep.  I just need to be patient with them for 30 more minutes and then I'll be free.  And when Mama has only gotten 6 hours of sleep in the last 48 hours, it's hard to continue to be patient even for 30 more minutes. I've been looking at the clock all day, waiting for that sweet moment when they are all sleeping and I can recharge.  When I can put a terrible day to rest.

These are not the nights for Durham to kick the walls in his bedroom, walking up his baby sister, but that's what will happen.  Over and over, even after I've tried addressing it multiple times.

These are not the nights for Ainsley to have to get up 5 times in an hour to use the bathroom, but that's what will happen.

These are not the nights for Wrenn to decide that she only wants to be held and walked and bounced and fed and re-diapered at the exact moment that Durham is kicking the wall and Ainsley is stuck behind a gate needing to go to the bathroom, but that's what will happen.

These are not the nights when I should care that the dishwasher needs to be unloaded and the dishes in the sink washed.  And care that I have no pants to wear because they are all in the dirty laundry or that there is still playdough stuck in the carpet waiting to be cleaned.

But that is when I lose all patience and good parenting skills.  That's when I revert to yelling.  Yelling at my kids as if they are doing this to me on purpose just to make me mad.  As if they really wanted to hurt and embarrass me.

Yelling and spanking for those older kids who refuse to cooperate with the plan of going to sleep in order to end a perfectly horrible day.

And once everyone is finally asleep, I'll feel enormously guilty for disciplining in anger and frustration.  Guilty for the things I said and for resorting to spanking when I couldn't find words or age-appropriate measures to get them to cooperate.

And I'll cry myself to sleep wondering how much my kids hate me and need therapy when they are older.  Will they ever want to talk to me?  Will they ever want to hug scary Mama?

And then we all sleep.  Sleep is a magical thing.  For me, I wake up refreshed with a full tank of patience and the knowledge that I can try to be a better parent.

And for toddlers and preschoolers, sleep is even more magical.  They have a reset button.  They wake up and oddly love me just as much as they've ever loved me.  They don't hold grudges.  They barely remember me yelling.  They just want to hug their mama.  And snuggle.  And sweetly demand breakfast for a brand new day.  They still run to me when they're hurt or sad.

Even when I'm the one who hurt their heart or made them sad.

I know I won't have this magical reset button for long.  Soon my kids will grow up and remember when I've made parenting mistakes.

But for now, in all their baby/toddler/preschooler neediness, their reset button is working and intact.

And yesterday's terrible, horrible day is long gone.  We can start over.  And tonight we will read and talk and pray just like we should.

Because I've never loved anyone or anything more.  And they are so worth the hard days.

2 Months Old - Wrenn

Our little lady turned two months old on April 19th.  Here are a few details about our girl:

Height:  22.5 inches

Weight:  11 lbs, 10 oz

Feeding:  She's still eating 4 ounces every 3-4 hours.  She'll usually eat 24-28 oz in a day.  She's not quite as dribbly from the bottle as she was in the first month.

Sleeping:  We put her down in the crib, swaddled, and in a positioner at about 9pm every night.  She'll either get up once at 2-3am or sleep all the way through to 6-7am.  She slept for 9 hours straight at 7 weeks!  For naps, she's either in Mama's arms or in the swing seat.  We haven't mastered crib naps yet.

Diapers:  Size 1

Clothes:  Size 3-6 or 6-9 months depending on the brand.

Disposition:  As long as she's in her Mama's arms, she's a perfect little angel.  I still think everyday about how pleasant babies are when they don't have colic.   Of course, like any baby, she prefers to be held and held while standing at that.

Places:  She's been to the library, church, and Ainsley's school.  She's slept through most of these adventures.

Fun Facts:  Her feet are still long and skinny.  This just isn't normal for Roberts children.  She loves her pacifier, but we need to keep putting it back in her mouth.  She likes to sleep tummy to tummy with anyone willing.

Milestones:  Besides sleeping for longer stretches, she's started smiling, rolling from tummy to back, and cooing.  While in her bouncer, she'll get more active as if she wants to start using her arms to bat at the toys.

Tummy time is never lonely.  Look at how she can hold her head up!  

Dirty D

Our Durham.

He's officially the sweetest, smartest, cutest little man ever to grace this earth.  I can't even imagine not having our little guy.  I am so blessed to have my boy.  

Here's a few tidbits about my boy as he is in April 2013.  

1)  He is skinny.  I really didn't expect that.  It's not like his parents are twiggy.  He was even quite a chubby baby.  Ainsley has always been solidly in the 98th percentile for weight.  I expected all of our children to be...sturdy...as well.  He was on his way in September of 2011.  

Blue 24 month pants in September 2011.  He was 7 months old.  

But then he just stopped gaining weight so quickly.  He didn't even walk until he was almost 15 months old, so it wasn't like he was moving and exercising.  He was just slimming down.  He's still wearing most of the same clothes he wore when he was 9 months old.  

Blue 24 month pants in April 2013 at just over 2 years old.

He's now 27 lbs and should be wearing size 4 diapers, but we had two boxes of size 5s left over from Ainsley, so he's wearing those.

Speaking of diapers, one night in a sleep-deprived blur, his father accidentally put him in Wrenn's size 1 diaper for the night.  It was a bit Speedo-ish, but fit.

Durham in a rare, utensil-using moment.  

2)  Utensils aren't his friends.  He's just not interested in using utensils.  Should I be concerned?  I probably should be, but I have other things to worry about.  I just keep thinking that I have a whole year until he starts preschool.  We have a whole year to work on utensils.  Maybe it's a boy thing, but he'd much rather use his hands 

  

Floors require bending over.  Ugh.  

3.  He prefers to play with trucks on the couch or table, but never the floor.  We have a little rug with roads even, but he only likes to play with his trucks on waist-level surfaces.  It means that if you ever wanted to sit on our couch, you'll have to pick up at least 6 Matchbox cars to find an open area.  If you want to put your drink on the table, you'll have to watch it like a hawk to make sure he doesn't knock it over with a tow truck.   

He promptly moved away from Wrenn right after I snapped this picture.  

4.  It's been 2 months, and he still doesn't care about his sister.  When we brought Durham home, Ainsley was in his face all of her waking hours.  She wanted him to play with her immediately.  She wanted to dress and undress him.  She wanted to pick him up.  

Durham might not even know we have a baby in the house.  

She's not a truck, so she's quite boring.  

And this lucky boy has an uncle who is a farmer!  

5.  Speaking of trucks.  This kid is a truck-a-holic.  I'm sure his father was hoping he'd be obsessed with sports.  Who knows?  Maybe that will come.  

For now, it's all about the trucks.  And tractors.  

Because of the truck apps he plays with on the iPad, he can name all sorts of trucks.  Concrete mixer, grader, roller, car transporter, bulldozer, race car, police car, ambulance.  He can even name many of them in Hebrew because the iPad wasn't set to English for a while.  He knows all of their sounds and can name the vehicle by sound alone.  

And you know you've hit rock bottom when you find yourself stalking the garbage truck, driving slowly behind it and next to it for a full block just so your son can see it up close and personal.  

6.  He hates hair cuts.  We've probably traumatized him though.  I cut Tim's hair every other weekend, so we just added Durham into the rotation.  Turns out he's not a fan of getting his hair cut.  Tim holds in on his lap while I take the clippers to him.  Durham fights and kicks and screams.  He usually ends up choking on a mouthful of his own hair.  It's rather unpleasant all around.  

Before and after a haircut back in December.  

7.  He's still taking naps.  We've had a rather hard time making the transition from crib to bed.  He used to be wonderful when it came to sleeping.  You could just lay the kid down in his crib and he'd nose dive to the pillow and fall asleep immediately.  

We transitioned him to a big boy bed, a new room, and a shared room with his sister back in December.  He was pretty excited about the freedom a big boy bed allowed and would get out of the bed all the time.  We ended up purchasing a gate to keep him in the room at night.  

At the same time he stopped being able to nap in his bedroom.  We tried to fight the good fight to keep him there during nap, but eventually gave in.  Now he naps where he collapses sometime in the afternoon.  

8.  Froggy is his go-to buddy.  When he needs a friend, he goes looking for his froggy.  He's not as attached to his frog as Ainsley is to her Nixon, but we still have desperate uddy searches every once in a while.  He's got a few buddies and will emerge from his room in the morning carrying about 5 of them to the living room.  There's little cuter than watching your two year old boy stumble out of his bedroom attempting to carry an armload of buddies.  

9.  He's still a Mama-snuggler.  And thank goodness, because I am a Durham-snuggler.  Who knew that a little boy could be so wonderfully snuggly and sweet?  

Our Ainsley

Her little habits are so easily forgotten as the months and years pass by.  I make a scrapbook at the end of every year to document that year's events, but find myself struggling to remember those little moments of parenthood that make me smile.

Here's a snapshot of my Ainsley from April of 2013.

1)  "Last night I dreamed about ponies, princesses, gummi bears, and slurpees!"  She often comes to the gate at her bedroom door at night to tell us she's scared of worms.  [My great idea of watching How to Eat Fried Worms has backfired terribly.]  We'll give her better ideas of what to dream about.  Tim usually tells her to dream of princesses in crystalland.

2)  The girl loves Scotch tape.  She finds a way to use it in many crafts.  She made a quilt for her stuffed reindeer by taping pieces of paper together once.  Below you'll see a creation she made using some of the school pictures she received this year.  It's right by her bed.  She specifically put no boys in the display.  Notice that the bottom picture is ripped.  She was trying to find a way to show just the head of this subject with no hair.  It wasn't working, so she gave up.

3)  She comes home often with art made at school.  On of my favorites is below.  You can see her signature at the top.  She struggles with the s and e yet.  When asked about Jesus, Ainsley replied "He loves children!  He gives us food!  He gives us our Mommies and Daddies.  He gives our Mom and Dad kids" 

4)  Ainsley loves to play games.  She had Candy Land, Chutes and Ladders, and multiple memory games.  We found out right away that kids are built with an innate urge to cheat.  I told her once that stacking the deck was the same as cheating.  She stopped, looked at me, and said, "I think I'm going to cry!"  And cry she did.    Every game she plays she tries to stack the deck, flip through the cards until she finds a good one, or spin the spinner VERY slowly to get the correct number to move.  Her grammy taught her how to play tic tac toe.   Unfortunately, she doesn't understand the concept of three in a row.  She believes that ANY three on the board constitutes a row.  Needless to say, she thinks she's a pro at tic tac toe.  

Here she's playing a memory game she cut apart herself from a Highlights magazine.
Can you tell how proud she was about her cutting skills?

 5)  Ainsley will tell you that her best friends are her cousins.  She will list off all her girl cousins (sorry boy cousins, boys have cooties right now) and then beg to go over to their houses.  All of her cousins are SO WONDERFUL because many of them are quite a few years older than she but will still play with her.  And by "play with" I mean "be bossed around by."  She loves family birthday parties.

6)  One night she just wasn't tired and kept coming to her bedroom door to inform us of her wakefulness.   I tried to entice her to go to sleep by telling her there would be a surprise in the morning.  (One of her cousins was coming by to get her hair braided).  She thought about the concept of a surprise for a while and said, "Is it CAKE?"  This girl is SO my daughter.

7)  She's still attached to her reindeer named Nixon.  We tease her all the time that Nixon is a boy, and she'll respond with, "No!  He is a girl!"  Nixon and Monkey sleep with her every night, along with other random stuffed animals that happen to procure an invitation.  She also has a dream light that serves as the nightlight in the room.  After we pray, we have to turn the dream light on to the blue setting before we leave.  There are still a few times a month in which she wakes up distressed because she cannot find her Nixon.  During the daytime she puts Nixon's scarf around her wrist to make it easier to play while still holding him.  I wonder if she'll start to give Nixon up on her own or if we'll have to develop a gentle removal plan for her?

Her bedtime buddies.  

 8)  She loves to draw and color.  Every drawing has to be displayed somewhere in the house or put in the pile to be scanned for the scrapbook.  Our entire house is an art gallery.  One day we had an exhibit of square-bodied daddy drawings.  They lined our hallway.  Her favorite subjects right now are Hello Kitty, Fairies, mermaids, and weddings.

This is the display near my bed.  

She asks Daddy often to draw a bride and groom so she can color them in.  Daddy likes to joke that I let her watch "American Gypsy Weddings" too much given the red wedding dress.
[Note:  She's never seen the show, but must have an inner need for pizzazz.]

9)  While she hates to clean up in general, she loves having specific chores that are her responsibility.  Her chores right now are unpacking and putting away toilet paper and paper towels into the linen closet and unloading the top of the dishwasher.  She's not tall enough to put away the cups in the top of the dishwasher, but she finds the tops and bottoms for the sippy cups and puts them together for me.  She'll also put away the silverware.  She also loves setting the table, choosing who will sit where and what utensils and plates they will be using.  

The linen closet after Ainsley has put away toilet paper.  

10)  She's my little babysitter when I need to take a shower, do laundry, or handle Durham.  She knows to fetch a pacifier and say "sssshhhhhhh" until I can come to get Wrenn.  It's actually super helpful.  While I'm happy my kids are all very close in age and will be interested in similar activities, I can see why people wait 3-4 years between kids.  Two year olds are definitely a part of the problem while four year olds can be a part of the solution.  

That's a snapshot of our little lady as she is in April 2013.  I wonder what she'll be like next year?  

Just Another Day (Part 2)

Read about the beginning of our day here. 

 

While Ainsley sat at the table contemplating food and life, Durham decided to make himself comfy on the couch.  Our routine is to grab our pillows and buddies and watch a movie after lunch.  He hopped right up by his pillow clutching a few of his favorite buddies and was asleep before I could press play. 

 

Oh, my sweet boy. 

One down, two to go.  My daily goal is simultaneous family naptime.  Ainsley is getting to an age where she doesn't quite need a nap, but the rule is that everyone has to lay down during the movie. 
 
She complies, but is incapable of complying quietly. 
 
"Who cut Mary's tummy open in the barn when Jesus was born?
But I want to poke at my belly button.
Barbie and Ken like to kiss.
Can I give Wrenn her bottle?
Can I burp her?
Can I hold her?
Nixon's name is Doody.  I will call him Doody."
 
I am one strong gust away from utter collapse.

I try to dodge some questions and answer others, but I find myself starting to ignore her.  I feel bad about it, but she never stops talking.  I'm just so tired.  I decided to get myself comfy as well in the hopes that Wrenn will fall asleep.  Blankets, pillows, and a sweet, little baby. 


Success!

 

Just look at the light until you fall asleep. 

Ainsley eventually stops talking and falls asleep.  Now Wrenn and I are the only ones awake.  And watching Cars 2.  Instead of falling asleep, Wrenn and I have a good conversation about her future.  We spend quite a bit of time just looking at each other. 

 

By the time Wrenn is asleep, Durham has woken up.  I'm bummed that I won't be able to sleep, but happy that Durham has woken up in a good mood.  You never know with 2 year olds.  They may wake up sweet as can be or possessed by the devil.  

 

Today was complete sweetness.  Wrenn was laying contentedly in her bouncer, so I spent some time snuggling with my boy.  Today he ripped off both of his socks and shoved his smelly feel in my face yelling, "MARKET!"

 

"This little piggy went to market.  This little piggy stayed home.  This little piggy had roast beef.  This little piggy had none.  This little piggy went wee, wee, wee all the way home."

 

Ainsley can unconsciously tell that fun is being had without her and wakes up to shove her much larger and stinkier foot in my face as well. 

 

"Me, TOO!"

 

We have many rounds of piggies going to market and teddy bears rounding garden gates.  It was sweet and wonderful.  Sweet and wonderful the first 56 times.  After that it just starts to get old and annoying. 

 



This one had roast beef. 

I kept reminding myself that no one was crying.  For the time being, Wrenn was asleep in a dry diaper.  Durham kept trying to say the whole thing by himself and screwing up.  Ainsley volunteered to keep tickling Durham for me. 

 

I sat there and watched my kids having fun with each other. 

 

"Piggy, market, beef, one step TICKLE UNDER THERE!"

 

I was having a momentary feeling of Mama-rockstarhood, so I offered to take all three of them outside to play.  I should probably do more outdoor playtime, but

A)  I don't like temperatures below 60 or above 75.  That leaves quite a small window of outdoor opportunity. 

B)  I always seem to have a 2 year old.  Guess what 2 year olds are amazing at?  Running into traffic.  Laughing the whole way as they RUN INTO TRAFFIC. 

 

I took Ainsley outside much more.  That was back then I only had one child to rescue from death.  Now I have way too many kids that could potentially be smooshed to bits. 

 

I suppose I could just trap them in the backyard, but that leaves me with a baby problem.  Strollers don't stroll well on our bumpy backyard.  And bikes don't bike well in the backyard. 

 

I decide to just throw caution to the wind and head outside. 

 

Guess what that means?  Diaper changes, coats, hats, diaper bags.  [Yes, I pack a diaper bag just to play in our own yard.]  45 minutes later we are READY TO GO...

 

...into the garage.  With the garage door down.  I get a chance to give Ainsley and Durham a speech about staying near Mama and away from the road.  Durham doesn't understand a word of it.  The boy is an outdoor deathtrap. 

 



We start with strapping down the two most vulnerable and heading down the sidewalk. 

 

Perfectly enjoyable, right?



 Looks perfectly lovable here.

We make it around the block once.  Halfway through, Ainsley got tired and we all had to take a break.  Our new dilemma concerning walks is what to do with the third child.  For now I let Ainsley ride a little bike ahead of the rest of us with the double stroller.  Durham spends most of the walk wiggling and trying to get out of his seat. 
 
We quickly head back to the house to get Durham his own bike.  The only place to bike is the driveway.  Which is not fenced in and connected to THE ROAD. 
 
Ok, I can corral my son to keep him in the driveway.  I can do this. 
 

Fortunately he's not very good at biking yet so he doesn't move fast. 
As long as he's on the bike, that is. 

 Things go surprisingly well.  Durham switches from one bike to another.  I mediate problems concerning who is riding the more desirable bike.  I even have time to snap a few pictures with my real camera and not just my phone. 
 
 ROCK STAR MAMA. 

 

Just cruising the driveway. 

 

Doing a little coloring while she waits for the more desirable bike. 

 

And once again, babies without colic are just amazing. 

 
At that point, things deteriorated rapidly.  I believe it went like this:
Ainsley:  I see a flower!  [runs off towards the neighbor's house]
Durham:  Flower?  [falls clumsily off the bike and runs after Ainsley]
Mama:  Let's all stay in our yard, please!  [Hopes kids listen]
Ainsley:  [Thinks Durham has begun to play tag.  Runs past flower and towards the road]
Durham:  [Chases Ainsley towards the road, in utter glee.]
 
I don't even know how people with such small legs can get SO FAR SO FAST.  But they do.  And my heart stops. 
 
Thirty seconds later, Mama is out of breath, Ainsley is grumpily walking back to the house, and Durham is thrown over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 
 
A sack of potatoes that is screaming, kicking, and fighting like a ninja 
 

Let's just play in the garage then.  No one gets run over by a car in the garage, right?

We play in the garage for about 15 minutes until Ainsley convinces me she can be a good listener.  I give in to her and we head back outside. 
 
This time we head to the backyard.  Fences are my friend. 
 

Happy, little family. 

We play in the backyard for a little bit before Wrenn wakes up and is hungry.  I hadn't yet devised an exit strategy for Durham.  I was going to have to shoot from the hip.
 
"Durham want to go inside for a drink?
Who wants to watch Race Car movie?
Let's go inside and play Monster?"
 
Nothing works.  Looks like I'm going to have to go with sack of potatoes again.  I manage to carry Durham over my shoulder and Wrenn in with the other arm.  Both are screaming their heads off. 
 
"Wasn't going outside so much fun?  Aren't we all glad we got some fresh air?"
 
Durham won't have any of my cheeriness.   Neither will Wrenn.  Ainsley decides to join in...
 
"Can I have something crunchy?  Something called candy?
What are we eating for supper?
I don't want veggies WITH my noodles!"
 
A few more minutes of chaos and we're all in the house.  Guess what I do?  Time for another set of diaper changing and bottle making.  While I'm giving Wrenn her bottle, things get quiet.  Quiet in my house can only mean one of two things:
 
1)  The quiet person in question is pooping.
2)  Mischief is being made and secrets are being kept. 
 
Sometimes it's both at the same time.  Imagine a bathroom pooping/water bottle incident. 
 
This time it's pretty benign.  Just a de-pantsing. 
 

Um...huh.

 
It is soon time for supper.  And another mealtime "incident." Durham ate his chicken and rice without a sideways glance. 
 

Ainsley sat at the table for 30 minutes by herself before she finally tried a bite.  With her eyes covered. 

 
What comes after dinner?  Baths, of course.  This particular night was special because it was the first time in over a year in which Durham readily agreed to sit on the potty while the bath water was being drawn.  He's not potty-training yet, but our routine is to have he and Ainsley sit on their own potties before bath just so he's used to the concept of what a potty is. 

There was much celebration. 

Then the two of them pile into the tub. 

The conversation goes like this: 
Don't touch your brother.  Just leave him alone. 
He's got the good poofie!
Durham fire truck?  Wee-ooo.  Wee-ooo.
There's water in my eyes!  [Crying]
There's always water in your eyes.  I think you'll live.  
All done!  [Tries to run away while in the tub, falls, cries]
Alright, that is IT! 

And then Durham peed in the water and she scampered out as well. 

 Guess what it was time for?  Diapers and another bottle.  And laundry and dishes.  How glamorous is my life on a scale of one to ten? 

I'm not proud of how much TV they watch.  It's a maternity leave necessity though. 

The kids are sweet and docile as they watch Bubble Guppies.  Docile is another one of my motherly goals right?  No? 

If you answered no, then you must not have toddlers.  Or laundry. 

By the time we've reached 8pm it's time for tooth-brushing and book reading.  Ainsley loves to pick the baby books.  We tell her no and send her back to find big girl books. 

Tears.

Durham's favorites are Little Blue Truck, The Foot Book, and Go Dog, Go!  Ainsley has a different favorite every night, but gravitates toward anything pink or princess.  Before the baby was born, Tim and I would split the kids up and read something that was age-appropriate for that particular child.  No such luxury anymore. 

Reading together now. 

 
It doesn't always work out well, reading together.  Durham has a much shorter attention span than Ainsley, so he often ends up getting off the bed to wander around the dark house. 

When reading time is done, both kids are shuffled to their beds for prayers. 

"Now the light has gone away,
Father listen while I pray.
Asking thee to watch and keep,
and to send me quiet sleep.
Thank you God for..."

Ainsley decides to thank God for curtains, the fan, her dream light, and her mom. 

Durham decides to thank God for curtains as well.  He's quite a little follower.  I don't even think he knows what curtains are, but he has thanked God for them. 

I settle in with Wrenn and another bottle in the chair in her room and thank God for my little brood of active, sassy, loud, willful kiddies.  They are healthy and vibrant and independent.

Thank you, God. 

I am blessed beyond measure. 
 

All Three (Try 1)

No matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to get a decent picture of all three of them.  

 

Even if I can get two to look toward the camera, I can never guarantee their expressions. 

Ainsley wants to be a helper, so she puts a death grip on Durham. 



Things just get silly then. 



Hello?  Guys?  Mom's taking a picture here. 

Ugh.  I give up.