Pollywogs!

After spending several hours down the street with their favorite babysitter, my girls returned home, triumphant - they had managed to net a total of 12 pollywogs from the pond! They were gloating and so excited. I found two glass flower vases and made that the new home for our "pets."

What does one feed a pollywog?? I had no idea, and neither did Chadwick. The girls took plastic cups and caught ants, which they deposited into the vases and watched as the pollywogs ignored the ants and the ants eventually drowned. I went to Walmart and picked up some floating pellets designed for aquatic turtles, newts, and frogs. I don't think any of the pellets have been consumed, but it makes me feel better to know that I am trying not to let the little guys starve.

Some of our pollywogs have legs, others are still very much in the fishy-looking stage. Our plan is to let them morph into frogs and then return them to an outdoor habitat. This may have to become an annual tradition!

One of the bigger ones

Yup, baking pan-turned-aquarium

Let Him Eat Cake

We "officially" celebrated Spencer's birthday yesterday - combining a Memorial Day BBQ with his celebration. I love this time of year, especially with family get-togethers. Our yard is big enough that all the children go outside and we pretty much don't see them before and after the meal. Leaves time for the adults to have something of a more normal conversation.

I call him the Little Man...and all men need a tie!

He did a smashing job!

Architectural Feat

On the way home from the bus stop last week, Morgan and her Abuelo discovered a perfectly formed bird nest under the neighbor's mailbox. They carried it home where it now resides on the front porch, a testament to the amazing powers of nature.

How does a little bird craft such a house for itself? This nest is round, made of small sticks and twigs with a shallow circle in the center for the eggs and future hatchlings. If that wasn't enough, there is mud plastered on the inside of the sticks, presumably to help hold it all together. Like an adobe wall!! It's a marvel. Morgan tried unsuccessfully a few weeks ago to make a nest and we had no luck. Yet these winged animals, with no opposable thumbs, mind you, create masterpieces each year. Probably with relative ease. Amazing.

On a side note, Morgan wants to be an architect/builder when she grows up. To be able to create the blueprints and build her own house. Mallorie wants to be a stop sign (like the ones held by men and women in construction zones).

The Little Man

This guy came into the world one year ago on May 19th - and he has completely stolen our hearts with his smile, his belly laugh, and constant antics.

While I labored over 20 hours with Mallorie, Spencer came into the world one week late and didn't waste much time making an appearance once contractions started. At 3 pm on the 18th, I saw my OB-GYN and learned that there was no evidence of imminent labor. We made plans to have me return to the clinic 5 days later for a recheck. By 7 pm, I was having hard contractions and Chadwick called his mom frantically at 9:15 to come to the house.

You know how in the movies, the man frantically runs around the house, packing his bag and the last minute stuff to take to the hospital while his wife groans and hollers for him to hurry before the baby comes? Yeah, that was us. I was, literally, on the floor trying to cope with ever-strengthening contractions while Chadwick ran around the house, throwing things into a bag for himself, into a bag for the girls, and some last minute things for me. By the time I got checked into the hospital (why do they make laboring women sign consent forms and fill out paperwork?? I could barely remember my name), the nurses took the time to obtain my weight (like I hadn't been at the doctor that afternoon), and check to see if I was dilated. I was at a 9, and suddenly I was the main show in this circus.

I hired a doula named Mariah to help with the process and it was an awesome decision. The nursing staff were great and my favorite memory in the two-hour-long pushing session that ensued was of the resident OB leaning over the bed, getting into my face, and giving me a pep talk. I remember thinking, "open your eyes, Julie. Someone is getting stern with you and it's time to pay attention."

Spencer arrived at 1 am hollering like a good boy. It took the better part of two days to choose a middle name for him; we wanted a family name that had some meaning to it and whose legacy we could tell to our son. Quincy was the middle name of my paternal grandfather, whom I called Abuelo, and he was an amazing man.

The transformation from newborn "blob" to a walking, babbling, laughing little person never ceases to amaze me. He is our Number 3, The Bubbas, the Little Man. He loves to eat, growls when he sees the cat, doesn't stick with one activity for more than 5 seconds, crawls like Spot from "The Good Dinosaur," and adores his big sisters.

At the hospital

May

August

 

First Christmas

April

Birthday - I had to put the candle far away so he didn't try to eat it!

 We love you Bubbas!

Let's Hear You Say ROAR!

Since learning that she was to attend Chaparral, Morgan has been proudly telling everyone that she was going to be - and now is - a Cougar, just like her Mom and Dad. Chadwick and I attended Washington State University, which also has a cougar as a mascot, thus making this choice for a school seem meant to be.

The school strives to teach its pupils to be outstanding individuals - not to bully, to be helpful, etc - and they have several rewards programs which recognize the efforts of the kids. One example is the ROAR award, which is given to one student per class every trimester. The awards are handed out at an assembly, and as Morgan happily told me, the kids who are getting the award "get to sit in the front row! Everyone else has to sit in the back."

Morgan's sweet teacher chose her to receive the award this go-round. Students who receive the award exemplify the attributes of the acronym: Respect Ownership Attitude Responsibility. ROAR.

Shaking hands with Mrs. D, the principal

ROAR students

The students piled into the gym, roared mightily throughout the assembly on command, listened to the bell choir and a performance of fifth grade singers, and cheered with each award handed out. The children were given t-shirts to wear in honor of their achievement and they also received a free happy meal from McDonald's. (Sounds like a good daddy-daughter date meal!)

Proud girl - she danced in the kitchen when I told her she was chosen by her teacher.

To celebrate, we ate ice cream with Grandma Nancy at Dairy Queen. Way to go, Morgan Magoo!!

That One Little Cubby

I would venture to say that each of us have a place in our house that is a catch-all for the things of life, a place where papers and mail and "things" just get tossed. A place that drives us nuts each time the location is viewed. And it's not a place that is cleaned on a regular basis for one reason or another.

For me, that place is the craft cubby. (Followed very closely by the countertop in the kitchen where the school papers, electrical gadgets, and mail tend to gather.)

This is a decent-sized cabinet near the back door of the kitchen. A picture of a dog paw is on the knob, thus leading me to wonder if the previous owners used to keep their canine supplies located here. In our family, we keep the craft supplies here. Paper, coloring books, hole punches, Play Dough, and egg cartons. And that is just what can be viewed at a glance. The top shelf contains pieces of paper - a forest, really - that have already been used for images of ponies, dinosaurs, princesses, family members/friends, and everything in between. Spencer has discovered the treasures hidden within and loves to pull things out, tasting each item before throwing it on the tile beside him.

Since this particular mess is hidden, I can ignore it for quite long periods of time. Until that one time when I can't. Then out comes the recycle bin and the iPad as I turn on some music and sort through the creations of my offspring. Recycle pile, keep pile, trash pile.

After cleaning it out, I have a feeling of great accomplishment. And then I try not to look as the papers pile precariously on the top shelf, parts of Play Dough sets are scattered abroad, and the egg cartons slowly take over...

Our Family Mission....

Several year ago, I joined several women in my ward to do kind of a parenting type book club - each month we read one chapter in "7 Habits of Highly Effective Families" along with a novel that somehow tied in with that chapter's theme. I loved the "7 Habits" book and the principles it taught. As a result, I finally agreed to a previous request by my dear hubs to create a family mission statement. We created the statement and a family symbol which proudly hangs in our kitchen by the table. Each Monday for family home evening, we start by reciting our statement and basically have it memorized. Even the girls have it down, complete with actions.

Part of agreeing to the mission statement, other than reciting it each week, is "signing" the document with our handprint each January. It's the beginning of a new year filled with new commitments and re-committing to old ones. My children love it! This year, Spencer got to put his chubby little hand in paint to add to our collection.

I love how the meaning has changed as my little family has grown in both age and size. I love the enthusiasm with which the girls repeat the small words and trip over the larger ones. I love how my husband can create family home evening lessons off the values to which we aspire and how those values and help guide what we do as a family unit.