Selfies by Lex

Okay, so I hate the word "selfie." In my brain, it resides somewhere in the realm of "nummers," "boo boo," and "totes adorbs." But alas, I don't really know another word for the images that I found of Lexa when I last uploaded the pics from the camera, so selfies I'll call them.

Here are just a few, in all of their unassuming, hilarious, non-self-conscious glory.

I can't pick a favorite, but pictures two and five are real contenders.

Lex, you and your future boyfriends can just go ahead and thank me later.

(P.S. In a recent unrelated conversation, Lex referenced her "nose holes." I asked if she remembered what those were called, and she stared at me blankly. I gave her a prompt: "Nos..." and she jumps in with "Nospitals? That rhymes with hospitals!")

Greek to Me

Miss Julia did a unit on Greek culture in her third grade class this year, and one of her assignments was to make a Greek meal for her family. I inserted the idea for gyros and baklava into her brain while she was asleep (Inception, anyone?) because I was pretty sure those were the only two remotely "ethnic" foods that anyone in our family (okay, the children) would actually eat. Turns out I was right. Except that they didn't really eat the dinner besides the bread part of the gyros. But they sure loved that dessert.

I was so proud of the way that Julia worked on this assignment, gathering all of the ingredients and working her little heart out on the meal part like a Greek sous chef, and then typing away for literally hours to finish everything that she wanted to put on her project board. A sampling:

"For dinner I had gyros. Gyros are kind of like flat bread with toppings on it such as meat, tomatoes, feta cheese, onions, and a yogurt sauce. The yogurt sauce has 4 ingredients: plain yogurt, cucumbers, dill, and salt. It took us a long time to make it. We chopped meat and I stirred the yogurt and measured all the ingredients. It took me and my mom 1 hour to make dinner at least!

For my dessert I picked baklava. Baklava is really good, it has one ingredient that is healthy for you and that ingredient is water. I know it sounds weird and gross to you but that is part of Greek culture."

It was nice to have so much help in the kitchen, I'll tell you that. But I didn't have the heart to let her in on the secret that most times dinners take at least an hour to make, barring oven pizza and cereal nights, anyway. She'll have to learn that one when she's a little older, I suppose.

And what's a Greek end-of-unit celebration without a third grade toga party, I ask you? Nothing but grape juice and cucumbers, that's what.

Summer Is (Almost) a Bad Word

It's that time of the year, people. The time of the year when my sweet children are out of school for the summer and I just about have an anxiety attack at the thought of them spending all day at home with me, and, more dangerously, with each other. I know that they love each other. They really do. They laugh, they play, they serve each other in sweet and remarkable ways sometimes. But they are also related, which means that extensive periods of time together often result in disastrous and ridiculous blow-outs, leaving it up to me to referee their fights and disagreements with much more gusto than I actually want to have to muster. I shudder at the thought.

With a newborn last summer, we didn't do much of anything that involved leaving the house for any noteworthy amount of time, and, when we did, we certainly didn't do anything very fun. I am hoping against hope that a summertime schedule, along with some regular excursions to my parents' swimming pool and the Science Center this summer will work towards keeping all of us a little more sane and calm with each other. Or at least keep us from screaming at each other all day long for no real reason. (A mom can hope, right?)

I remember when school was out when I was a kid, my mom would relegate all of us to our respective rooms sometimes for days at a time because, as a whole, we could not get along, and it absolutely drove her crazy. At the time, I never really understood what I assumed was her lack of patience with us, but now, believe me, I get it. It wasn't that she wasn't patient. I am sure that every day she started with a significant measure of love, kindness, and patience, ready to take on a never-ending summer day with five children at home. But just as I am sure of that, I am also sure that every morning by about 10:00, with our relentless fighting, abhorrent messes, and miscellaneous drama, we had most definitely bled her dry of every good intention and patient gesture with which she had managed to start the day. Because that's what kids do, folks.

And now I'm on the other side. Instead of the bleeder, I've officially become the bled. Desperate to keep myself alive, I am hoping that excursions, schedules, and continued diversion are the key to not only surviving the summer, but somehow enjoying it.

But if you don't hear from me again, you'll know why.

All the Women Who are Independent...

Ever the awesomely (and occasionally infuriatingly) independent child, Lex has begun to show her culinary skills at lunchtime. She's on quite the peanut butter and honey sandwich kick lately, and she has, at 4 years old, taken to making her own sandwich every day. Literally. She gets out her little chair and gathers all of the ingredients from the pantry and then sets up shop on the kitchen island and gets to spreading. The only thing she needs help with is the sandwich cutting (half in triangles, half in squares is the daily request) and then she is good to go, happy and beaming at her accomplishment.

I both love and am stunned by her constant willingness to try to do things on her own. Sandwiches today, choreographing a high school play tomorrow.

She's a smarty boombalarty, I tell you.

One Whole Year

My tiny Spencercakes has gone the way of all of my other children and become a full-blown one-year-old. It's the subtlety of the whole affair that gets me, I think; babies seem so little and helpless for so long, and then the next thing you know, they're playing in the toilet water every chance they get, and climbing into the dishwasher whenever you happen to leave it open.  I was hoping that Spence would take the hint and just stay little for a least a little bit longer than the others, but this boy has been keen on growing up since day 1 and refuses to indulge my desperate desires. 

At one-year-old, Spencer is still not exclusively walking, though he is taking more and more steps every day. He is pretty much hungry every moment that he is awake, sleeps like a champ at night, and is currently conducting a test on my sanity that involves an attempt to drop his second afternoon nap. He is the apple of everyone's eye and lights up when he sees a familiar face come through the door, often lunging towards that person from the unsuspecting arms of whoever is currently holding him. He smiles easily, enjoys long soaks in the tub (if crawling around and standing up in the bathtub qualifies as a soak), feeding himself cold cereal, knocking things over, and racing away when someone is trying to change his diaper or get him dressed.. He has started to say "yeah" and "uh-oh," and not much else that sounds like words, but a whole lot of gibberish flows from that little sweet mouth all the live-long day. 

He is easily everyone's favorite. Such a sweet-tempered, easily soothed, yet insanely high-energy baby we have never had the privilege of knowing, and we are blessed every day for the sheer fact of his being in our family. 

Here's a little recap of his eventful and adorable life thus far.

April 18, 2013

May 2013

June 2013

July 2013

August 2013

September 2013

October 2013

November 2013 

December 2013

January 2014

February 2014

March 2014

April 18, 2014

Happy Birthday, sweet boy. We'll eat you up we love you so!