Fall, Pernot Style

Too Early

Sunday mornings are always a little hectic at our house. It isn't like the children aren't awake, and we have to rouse them for Mass.

No, they have been awake for so long that they are ready for their first naps by the time church finally rolls around at 8:30am.

This particular Sunday, the children were up and wrestling at 4:07am. By 4:30, they were fed and clothed and sick of eachother. I told them if they couldn't be kind to one another, they would have to go to their rooms.

 They decided to play with Nathan, already sleeping. He was the engine for this ridiculously exhausted freight train.

Yes, this week we had to wake them for Mass.

Naaaaaaaaaaate?!

I realized recently that I spend about 30% of my day looking for our youngest child (and the other 70% thanking God that I found him). Most frequented question in this house: "Have you seen the baby?"

I honestly couldn't find him for about 5 seconds, which is a tremendously dangerous amount of time in "baby years". Some mothers use labor and delivery stories to induce guilt in their children. I will use well-documented data with photographic evidence of the worry these children cause. 

Nathan has a knack for getting into all sorts of precarious positions. See that dump truck in the middle of the floor? He pushes it up next to the stairs for some extra altitude while trying to scale the baby gate. All the babyproofing feats we have acheived over the past 5 years...mere speed bumps for this child.

It is not unusual to find Nathan hiding in a bookcase, behind a couch, under a table, on top of the ceiling fan or in his booster seat at the table...eating! "Who can eat at a time like this?!? I am missing the baby! Oh! There you are!"

 Ok, so most of the time my fear is self-induced by my post-partum amnesia. And yes, "post-partum amnesia" is a real diagnosis that I can use as an excuse until my youngest is in college.

Stories of lost children in my home growing up are legendary. Some are scary. Most are benign. My personal favorite is when my mother "misplaced" one of her babies. 

Mom, with true panic in her voice: "Where is Stephen?"

Me: "You are nursing him."

Mom, chuckling nervously: "Just making sure you knew."

I wish I could say that history does not repeat itself. I wish I could say that this conversation never happened in my home. But it has. Several times. Poor Sarah. She knows I am losing it. She should just be greatful that I am not losing her too.

Our Little Scholar

Matt and I were having a peaceful Saturday morning breakfast. The children were downstairs playing potato heads. We were talking about homeschooling, the children, and how pleased we were with how quickly they are learning in all their different subjects.

 Especially Bean.

 Especially in History.

 That child is marvelous. We just studied the Crusades, Christopher Columbus, and the First Thanksgiving. She is full of small bits of information that blow my mind. She can find the Cape of Good Hope on a map of the world. She can tell/show you what places comprise the Far East. I was telling Matt that sometimes I feel so incredibly incompetent when I am teaching her. She catches on quicker than I do. And she can incorporate her lessons into daily life.   

Lots of giggling downstairs. Sarah brought up her completed Potato head (compliments of the Hayes family) to show off to us.

 Sarah and her Storm Trooper. We put it next to Dad's Chewbacca mug for a nice photo.

 Sarah said, "This is not a Storm Trooper!"

Look Again.

Yup, It's a Crusader.

Boys

The morning of my birthday, the children were sitting at the breakfast table, telling me all the things they would be getting me for gifts that day.

Joseph: I will buy you some new matchbox cars because you don't have enough.

Thomas: I will buy you some blue, blue matchbox cars!

Sarah: I will buy you a new shirt and some play pants.

Thomas: I will buy you a blue, blue, shirt! With numbers on it! And a new set of stairs for your house. Some blue, blue stairs!!!!

I chuckled to myself, thanked the children for thinking of me and had fun imagining where Matt would be taking the children to shop that afternoon while I had some alone time.

He brought all four children to Bath and Body Works.

Joseph was very upset. When it came time for presents in the evening, he said, "Dad didn't let me buy you matchbox cars! I am so, so mad!" Thomas said,"I'm so, so mad too!"

They were going to make us pay.

They practically chucked the lotions and soaps at me, took the gift bags, placed them over their heads and began to play " Fred Jackson".

 Under that helmet, Fred Jackson looks like this kid.

Best Birthday Gift

After the cake was eaten and presents were opened, Matt gave me the best present I could have asked for. He helped me tackle the four children and set the timer on the camera for a family photo.

It was stressful and crazy and we bribed the children with everything but their own, personal steam engine. But Look! We are all sitting in the same spot at the same time!

 V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!

Thank you, Mattie, for the best birthday ever.