Do You Need Teeth for That?

Today I had a meeting to look over the theatre we're using for our performance.  GQ was really, really enjoying it.  He was enjoying it so much that he could not help writhing and screaming in his stroller.  Luckily, I had a sucker.  So, I gave it to him.

Later, he gave me back a sucker stick that was approximately 1/2 inch long.  I found no vestiges of sucker stick anywhere around him.  I am pretty certain he ate it.

So, did he just get it so wet and soggy with slobber that it went right down?
Did he chew it with his few and far between teeth?
Was it really so boring hanging out with me that eating cardboard seemed like a reasonable thing to do?

Yum.

(I suppose it was better than when we were cleaning the Church on Saturday and M was feeding him chewed gum from the garbage cans.)

Egg Hunt

GQ's favorite part of the egg hunt was... the balls.  In fact he threw a knock-down fight when I dragged him away to the actual egg hunt.  I had to cheat and find him an egg before they started so that he would get that something fun was going on.

And while he did look for eggs, and did enjoy eating the treats... he was very happy to get back to the balls.

E had fun rolling down the hill and picking dandelions.

GQ, in addition

This is what you get when you invite GQ to coloring time.  Coloring?  Not so much.  Throwing crayons all over the kitchen?  Yes, that sounds like a fine idea.

This is GQ saying:  "no."  He also like to say - over and over - "Bumby, bumby, bumby."  What does this mean?  I haven't a clue.  And if I keep asking him to do something despite the "no"?  He takes out his finger, points it at me, and makes a light saber noise.  As in, just you wait, I will get you with my light saber.

Aida

One of the songs on my playlist at home is the following from Aida.  Sometimes, it makes me laugh.  Especially when I'm serving lunch and I hear the following words:

Aida! Aida!

All we ask of you
Is a lifetime of service, wisdom, courage
To ask more would be selfish
But nothing less will do

I don't know, something about that stanza just strikes me as downright hilarious when I'm involved in the "I want water/a spoon/a fork/a napkin/more/less/something else" tasks of mealtimes.

But, when I'm not laughing, the following stanzas remind me that my responses to my children's all encompassing needs/desires/want should probably be addressed a bit more differently than I currently deal with them.

Sometimes it confuses me.  I am supposed to serve others, but dealing with home-life can exhaust me by the end of the day, it keeps me from stepping outside and acknowledging that other people exist. 

People?  There's people out there?

And home-life, despite being for "them" - all those people in my house - is also intrinsically selfish.  I mean, children in these years are almost appendages to their mothers.  They are me.  So taking care of them is really just taking care of myself.  Doing their hair, dressing them.  And so many of the other things I choose to do are not completely necessary. They are things I like to do, but they do not save any souls or solve any world evils.  My house does not need to be as picked up as I have it, it's just that I go slightly crazy if it's messy.  I do not have to teach ballet, but I choose to.  And the girls hair does not have to be done, or - gasp - their teeth brushed. 

And somehow, suddenly, even those other things that are "service" to the people in my home are also somewhat selfish.  So there I am - tired by my "selfish" homegrown tasks - unable to serve those outside my home.  And yet, didn't I just spend the day doing things that I seriously would never have done in my pre-family truly self-centered college life?  You know: diapers, wet-sheets, breakfasts/lunches/dinners (meals are a hate for me... I mean, I'd rather starve than cook or do all those dishes every day - and I'm completely serious).

The never-ending question of what I should be doing is exhausting in and of itself.  What is necessary?  What is good?  What is service?  What is fitting?  What is productive?  What is the needful thing now?

I am supposed to know this?

Says Aida:


It's knowing what they want of me that scares me

It's knowing having followed that I must lead
It's knowing that each person there compares me
To those in my past whom I now succeed
But how can whatever I do for them now
Be enough
Be enough

But, these are not really questions I find myself capable of answering presently, and so it all wanders 'round and 'round my head as I go on, task by task.  I think, however, I should be thinking a little more about the last stanza.  That somehow the energy in it, the purpose in it would help the rest fall into place. 

I know expectations are wild and almost
Beyond my fulfillment but they won't hear
A word of a doubt or see signs of weakness
My nigh on impossible duty is clear
If I can rekindle my ancestors' dreams
It's enough
It's enough

At least, in the magical world of musicals where problems appearing at the beginning of songs can calmly be solved by the end.

Reasons to Hyperventilate

If there is anything that really bothers my mother about me, it is that I think too much.

I could give you a list of the things I think too much about, but then I would start thinking about them again.  And then my whole morning would go down the drain.

Because one result of me thinking too much is me hyperventilating.

When it is after 10:00 pm and I start doing this, things get really ugly.  This is when Justin tells me to go to bed.

But sometimes it does not have to be after 10:00 pm for this to  happen.

Like when I was pregnant with E, and they took my blood, and I saw all those vials stacked up, and I was pretty certain I was going to die because they took all my blood away, and I had to sit on the couch and watch an Anne of Green Gables marathon to keep myself from thinking about the blood anymore (or the fact that the hole in my arm might start squirting blood all over if I took the band-aid off).

Yes, this is how it goes.

Which is why when E told me her tooth was loose yesterday I knew I was in for an all-out fit.

Can I just say that I still have recurring nightmares about losing teeth?

You know that moment when one string remains attached between tooth and gum, and you can twist the tooth and pull it upward off your gum, but the string doesn't snap?

Or when it does come out and it won't stop bleeding?

Or that horrible feeling of empty, squishy, wet, cool gum?

Heaven help me, I am NOT ready for this.

GQ

This is GQ.  GQ is a little rascal.  GQ wakes his sisters up every morning at about 6:40.  Since they can't come out until 7:00 they either: a) giggle or b) yell at each other.  Usually they yell at each other.  Unfortunately, I blame this all on GQ for waking them up.

GQ likes to dance.  Justin shakes his head about this.  Seriously, I do not attempt to indoctrinate him.  But since we teach ballet at our house two days a week, GQ likes ballet.  Below is his attempt at an attitude.  GQ also likes to have his fingernails painted.  Since I paint them clear - per Daddy's orders - he always wonders whey his fingers look nothing like his sisters.

Right now, GQ likes to throw fits.  He throws fits if anyone has a toy he wants.  (And if they have a toy, he wants it.)  He throws fits if you don't carry him up the stairs, and if you don't carry him down the stairs - which I usually don't.  He throws fits if you don't let him play in the pantry, if you don't let him sit on the stool with you while you go to the bathroom, or if you ask him to come inside when he is playing on his bike.  He throws fits if you lift him into his carseat - he can get in himself.  And he throws fits while you drive because really, how dare you strap him into a carseat and drive around.

GQ is also cute.  He always gives me a hug after I change his diaper.  He never leaves anyone alone in time-out.  He always sits next to them and gives them hugs (even if they are in time-out for hitting him).  He loves to cook.  He pulls up a chair and insists on stirring and dumping in ingredients.  He likes dollys - especially M's - and usually he doesn't bang its head against the wall, although sometimes he does.  Every morning he asks where Daddy is, and when I say he's at school he says:  "Oh." He loves the phone.  And he loves balls.  He likes to shoot his basketball and make "Aaaahh" sounds when it goes in the basket.

In fact, on Sunday, they opened up extra seating in the back.  When GQ saw the basketball standards he got excited. He jumped, he pointed, he yelled "ball," he tried to escape past the children at the end of the bench, and when he couldn't get out - he threw a fit... the kind that results in Daddy carrying you kicking and crying from the room. 

'Cause seriously?  Who would rather sit and color when you could go play basketball?

And that's GQ

Rainbows

Last week I finished the rainbow costumes.  Sewing seven "petals" for eight costumes took me a while.... so I was glad to be done with this one.  I also wasted quite a few matches burning the ends of the ribbons.  Now I only have the bluebirds left to do.

Grandma's Easter Package

GQ insisted on being in the pictures, even though he didn't get a new outfit in the mail.  At least he's wearing overalls.  Grandma would be proud.