We're in the Club

I have been hearing Handel's "Hallelujah" chorus in my head lately. And not just because we are singing it in Chorale. No, the event that precipitated this joyous song of my mind (and heart) is the arrival of the Honda Odyssey we bought from my Grandpa (thanks, Grandpa!) and that my Dad drove out from Utah (a bagazillion thanks, Dad!)!

Although I have long coveted a minivan, I didn't realize how different life would really be in the Minivan Club. We have had it for 2 whole days and it has already brought me to tears. Of joy. Michael can now buckle himself in - tears. The doors open/close with the slightest encouragement or the push of a button - tears. My kids can't touch each other in the car - TEARS! We are so blessed.

We have loved our Ford Focus Wagon. We bought it when Josh was a baby and it has done really well. Although not horribly convenient with three kids, we all fit (with some liberal interpretation of Virginia car seat laws) and the back would hold a lot of kid gear. But, we also were sitting almost on each others' laps and yelling/singing/talking/chanting in each others' ears. The van feels cavernous after being so close for so long. And the luxury of being able to take an extra person along for a ride is exciting, if untested.

Some funny stories about the van:

-Michael wants to live in the van. I don't know that I blame him.

-The day before we got the van, Jason sat down at the table with me and announced that we needed to talk. *Pause for Irene to get worried - I am expecting to hear he has lost his job or has been diagnosed with terminal cancer - I have a wicked fast negative imagination* He then solemnly asked me, "Who gets to drive the van home the first time?"

-Jason told the boys that we were getting a new car. I asked Josh what kind of car he wanted. "A van, because we have never had a van before." I asked what color van he wanted. "Gray, because that is my new favorite color! Like Mrs. Gray!" (his teacher). Done! You can imagine how unbelievably thrilled this child was when we got our gray van.

-Michael told his buddy J that we got a new car because, "Josh didn't like the old one." Right. That is definitely how we make all major purchases.

-We sold the Focus to the same dealership we bought it from. Jason told the salesperson that we bought the Wagon from them when we had one child, but with three it was now time to move to a van. The guy told him it wasn't time; we were late!

-Jason told me that he just now feels like an adult. Apparently the wife and three kids didn't do that for him. I am glad we found something that does.

As you can tell, we are all very excited for our new van.

The Latest Scheme

Being consistent with kids is just dang tough. It would be much easier if it didn't interfere with my naps, craft projects and TV time.

All kidding aside, I think it is one of the most difficult aspects of parenting. I feel like we have it down in some areas, but in others we are sadly lacking. One of those areas is chores. I don't know who dreads this more, me or the kids. It is sooo much easier for me to do the chores alone quickly than to coach them and teach them. On the other hand, even when my health is good I get overwhelmed by all there is to do for a family of five. It doesn't help that I only became interested in this parenthood/homemaking gig in the year before I met Jason. An impeccably clean house just isn't on the top of my list of priorities and I struggle to force it there. Well, that is a rant for another time - back to getting my boys to help around the house. I refuse to provide their future wives with men who don't know how to do housework and if nothing else that inspires my continued efforts.

I won't lie. We've tried this before and consistency has always been my downfall. We thought we might use this large calendar compliments of the people at Pepsi (one of the perks of being a teacher - free calendars!) to help us out. Each day has a floor assigned to it instead of specific chores and we work together as a family to clean it. Week one went fairly well even though I caught Jason's bronchitis (my guess - unconfirmed by a medical expert).

Then, on Friday we have our reward: family movie night.

Of course, this will be more of a treat on the weeks when we don't spend all our time watching TV. But, we have to deal with this parenting gig one thing at a time.

American History

On the way home from school on Tuesday, I asked Josh what he had done in school that day. He told me that they "took pictures for the faces." Fair enough. A few more questions later and it came to light that each student in his class had colored either a pilgrim or a Native American. Then, they had their own picture taken so their creation would have their own face. I asked him if he got to choose between being a pilgrim or a Native American. He said they did. I was then curious as to what he chose and why. He said, "I chose to be a pilgrim, because they had the guns."

The Long Haul

So, the great gluten-free experiment continues. My initial plan had been to eat gluten-free for two weeks and then go gluten crazy (yes, I have started making a list of foods). However, after talking to a friend recently diagnosed with CD and my CD relative, I had to modify my plans. Two days before I was going to reenter the gluten world, I decided to extend two more weeks for a total of four weeks. Some incredibly well-meaning people pointed out to me that I was almost half-way. And that would have been encouraging, if I hadn't been only 4 rice-based meals away from chocolate cake.

Now I am a mere 9 days, 20 hours and 17 minutes from a bowl of cereal that isn't Rice Chex (or any form of Chex, really).

It hasn't been that bad, really. Interestingly enough, I don't crave wheat. Once we got the Oreo's and Great Harvest Bread out of the house, it hasn't been that bad. I did have a run-in with doughnut holes that tested me, but other than that my chocolate chip peanut butter cookies have curbed any sweet glutinous cravings I might have had. I have had a few more successes with GF dinners (and a failure as well - chicken fried rice in the crockpot, not so good) so that makes life much easier. This is actually doable - just a pain really.

Great-Grandpa

I will be the first to admit that my kids are shy. For all the socializing they get, new people are still scary to them at first. And Ben, bless is his picky little heart, has only recently started branching out from his extraordinarily short list of people he likes. Short as in 1. Jason. (You read that right - I am usually an acceptable substitute in Jason's absence, but I know where I stand.) And the kids are no respecter of persons - they are as shy of family and close friends as much as of true strangers. So, when we had my Grandpa (that would be one great- to them) over for dinner last Sunday, I didn't really know how it would go with the boys. It turns out, I needn't have worried. My grandfather had 4 sons of his own and readily made friends with the boys on their own turf. The problem we had then was getting them to calm down and give him some space. It is feast or famine with these kids. And the feast is really, really loud.

Ben made the first offer of friendship: a blue plastic spoon. Ben loves Grandpa.

Then the other boys got in on the action and Grandpa won them over by trying to catch them as they ran by yelling "Nanny boo boo - you can't catch me!"

Michael actually got caught.

After that, Josh came over to have a little chat. Grandpa asked him how old he was. So Josh did the same in return. It was pretty cute. Grandpa said, "I am 89 years old." Then Josh said, "I thought you would be 89 years old!"

We had a lovely evening and I am so grateful that we were able to spend some time with him. He is the last grandparent that I have left and I want the boys to know and remember him (okay, well at least Josh and Michael) since he is moving to Houston. And I generally don't go to Houston if I can help it (sorry TX fam! Love you! Come visit here anytime!)

Arch-nemesis

I completely understand that most people would not consider a winter squash their arch-nemesis, but I am not most people. Luckily, I only come up against this foe once a year and generally on my terms since I am the mobile one with a credit card. That doesn't mean I have the upper hand though. Although the squash gets destroyed, I end up angry and hungry. If we are keeping score, I think that might be a draw.

I have led a relatively squash-free existence. I thank/blame my mother for this. I didn't ever have to eat it, but I also didn't learn how to cook it. Not a problem until I read this absolutely fantastic, although a little preachy, book by Barbara Kingsolver titled Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. I highly recommend it. She discusses the benefits of eating locally produced food and, consequently, eating foods in season. One year, this book inspired me to set aside a portion of our weekly food budget to buy food at the farmer's market (we found out later much of the vegetables there were grown in the Carolinas and driven up here - so much for local). This last year, it inspired me to try container gardening again and with much greater success - I love our spaghetti sauce made from our own tomatoes.

But, for some unknown reason, I always read this book in the Fall and that brings us to winter squash. I read her arguments and personal anecdotes about winter squash. I am converted. Then I drive happily to the store to buy one. I find a decent sounding recipe and the battle begins. With one recent exception, these recipes all end very, very poorly. Mostly inedible. Universally not to my personal taste. And then I convince myself that the fault lies entirely with me - why can I NOT figure out how to cook and like these obviously popular and healthy vegetables? The evening ends in shambles, I get very cranky and Jason curses the day I found this book. I dump the whole mess in the trash and vow never to make winter squash again.

Until next year.

When I read the book again.

Ben Speaks

Well, Ben doesn't speak that much. He babbles plenty and I am sure it all makes sense to him, but he doesn't have many words. In fact, at his 18 month doctor's appointment, he only had 4-5 words when he should have 12-15. Which is fine. Much like my feelings about mobility in small children, I am not overly anxious to have Ben talking early. He understands a lot and has four people trying to decipher his desires (admittedly some for evil, some for good) so he doesn't really need to talk. So although he is a fairly good mimic, he has few words that he uses spontaneously.

That being said, he has acquired two full phrases since we saw the ped.

"Ready, set, GO!" Not shocking in a physically competitive house like ours (clarification: the children are competitive, Jason and I are just innocent bystanders).

And my new favorite that sends the rest of us into fits of laughter: "NO! DON'T DO DAT!" complete with pointing finger and hand on hip. It definitely makes time out less effective when Ben comes over to lecture the offending child like this.

How different the first and last children are. After "daddy" and "Spencer" (don't ask), Josh's words were toys and animals like "ball" and "doggie." Ben's are about competition and control. I think we are in for an interesting ride with this one.