Screaming to naptime

In one of those rosy after-school moments that you just want to take a snapshot of to cherish forever, everyone was screaming and pouting today. Zoë was ready for a nap but didn't want to take a nap and kept getting into stuff. Miriam was screaming at Zoë and Benjamin about getting into stuff. Rachel was having fits over her math homework and kept snapping at everyone. Benjamin was in good spirits but functioning at full volume.

I couldn't handle it anymore and snapped. I sent everyone to their rooms to chill out, pushed the benches under the table, lifted the baby off the table, and then put her in bed. She started screaming again, of course, but I left her locked in the bedroom while I spoke with my older kids about expectations.

The baby is allowed to scream, on account of she's a baby.

Screaming at the baby for screaming is not appropriate behaviour.

Screaming at your brother for screaming at the baby, who is screaming, is also not appropriate behaviour.

Screaming at your sister for screaming at her brother for screaming at the baby, who is screaming, is definitely not appropriate behaviour.

And if we're being fair, it's probably not appropriate behaviour for the mother to scream at her eldest for screaming at her sister for screaming at her brother for screaming at the screaming baby, either.

But, quite literally, for crying out loud—Everyone! Stop! Screaming!

Lotion

Zoë loves putting lotion on. We've been going to the pool fairly often which has required frequent application of sunscreen. Zoë loves to help rub it in after we dab it on her arms and legs. 

I've also (re)started giving her nightly massages with lavender-scented lotion to help her relax and go to sleep (haha*sob*hahaha). She will bring the lotion to me throughout the day (or, you know, later in the evening when the first massage inevitably didn't work to put her to sleep) and ask for me to put it on her. Last night she even cajoled Andrew into giving her a(nother) massage.

On Saturday night we had nachos for dinner so we could use up the last of the refried beans I'd made earlier in the week (from scratch, I might add). I gave Zoë a little dish of sour cream to dip her chips in. Do you know what sour cream looks like? 

Lotion. That's what.

Zoë did her best to apply the sour cream evenly on her arms, just as she does with sunscreen or lavender lotion.

I'm not sure what she thought when I told her that particular substance was for eating, not rubbing on your skin. However, I'm sure it was something along the lines of, "Crazy lady!"

(My kids all think that particular line a lot).

Pottermore, LEGO-more, Barber-more

On Saturday morning Miriam and Benjamin were happily immersed in the Pottermore website when it "disappeared." They're both relatively technically savvy, but The Internet is still a little mind-boggling. For example, we can no longer use the Chrome browser on the clunky computer in our living room; it refuses to update and yells at us all the time. Somehow, though, Chrome was mysteriously open every single time we'd turn the computer on. It turns out that a long time ago we'd bookmarked a page for Miriam on Chrome, so she thought the only way to get to that page was through Chrome. She didn't realize she could get to that page using any browser.

We got that all sorted out and now the page is bookmarked on Firefox, but The Internet is still a mysterious place.

So, the kids were on Pottermore—Miriam's super excited that she's finished reading everything there is to read about the Harry Potter world (all seven in the series plus The Cursed Child, Quidditch through the Ages, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and Tales of Beedle the Bard) so that there aren't any spoilers for her online—when they accidentally closed the browser.

Rachel must have helped them get to the website because (a) she understand the internet a bit better than they do, (b) Pottermore isn't bookmarked (yet) so someone had to have typed the URL or searched on google for it, and (c) it obviously wasn't Miriam or Benjamin who'd done that because they were both so unaware of how to get Pottermore back.

"Harry Pottermore just disappeared!" Benjamin wailed.

"We can't get it to come back! But I accidentally ejected this," Miriam said, holding up a DVD of Les Miserables. Evidently they'd been clicking around, trying everything.

"I will make it come back!" Benjamin said, running back to the keyboard. "B-O! I typed B-O!"

"What does B-O spell?" I asked.

"It spells, 'Harry Pottermore! You get back here and stop being disappeared!'"

Very nearly. Very nearly.

After watching those two try everything they could possibly think of to re-appear Pottermore, we did eventually intervene and show them what to do.

This morning, Benjamin wanted to get online again. Not for Pottermore this time, but for the website we once had bookmarked for Miriam (in Chrome): DUPLO building examples.

"Mom, will you help me get to Oggi-more?" he asked, reverting to his baby-word for LEGO in his excitement.

He's been having a grand old time on "LEGOmore" today.

We built this castle together:

2016 Pig Pickin'

Yesterday we attended our fifth Pig Pickin' in this ward, which was the thirtieth consecutive year the ward has put one on.

2012: We didn't even know what a Pig Pickin' even was, but learned that it was a lot of fun.
2013: We had a rash of terrible things happen to our loved ones (our dear friend Dorothy passed away unexpectedly, my dad was hit by a car while riding his scooter to work, Andrew's uncle was paralyzed in a mountain biking accident) and evidently I was still so shaken up about life that I failed to take any pictures at all. In fact, all the Pig Pickin' got was a cursory note in a post on a different topic.
2014: We barely managed to avoid a catastrophic collision on our way to the event.
2015: We went on the space walk for the first time.

It's still strange to me that we've been in the same place long enough to have attended the same event five years in a row. But here we are, so established that I really only have pictures of Zoë because the other kids were off running around in the woods with their friends the whole time.

Rachel didn't even eat with us. She ate with her friend Carolina's family. Andrew missed the Pig Pickin' this year (he decided to stay home to write since he has some big deadlines coming up), so it was just me and Miriam against Zoë and Benjamin. Picnicking with babies is always an adventure. They don't understand the concept of not walking on plates of food set out in the grass...

Zoë kept stealing watermelon rinds from everyone (even though I had other food (including watermelon flesh) for her):

Bedtime

This evening Andrew was working on the van with our neighbour, which meant that I was in charge of getting the kids to bed. We have great kids (not that I'm biased or anything) but lately I've been feeling like I've been burning the candle at both ends. I'm so exhausted by bedtime that it's difficult to remain patient through each child's individual shenanigans.

Zoë went to bed around 10:00 last night, which was amazing, and she stayed asleep most of the night. Andrew and I went to bed around 1:00 (we're both swamped with projects right now so we're staying up far too late (1:00 was actually early for this week)). Zoë only woke up once to nurse but then she got up at 6:00 this morning...for good. She took a one hour nap this afternoon.

She is still awake. (It's nearly midnight).

Benjamin was his little energetic self, Miriam must be suffering from middle-child syndrome because I can't think of anything to say about her, and I caught Rachel eating spoonfuls of sugar directly out of the sugar bin today. So...

By the time bedtime rolled around a little peace and quiet was sounding awfully nice. After scriptures and prayer and stories, I told the kids it was time to get into bed.

"And by 'get into bed,' I mean get into bed. I want you to go and get into your beds and then I want you to stay there. I don't want you to come out. I want you to get into bed and stay in your bed."

Both Miriam and Benjamin obediently bid me goodnight, hopped off the couch, and...ran to the kitchen where they started fighting over access to the ice machine.

Could I have been more explicit?

"That's not bed, guys," I sighed.

After getting their drinks, they headed off to bed. I helped Benjamin say his prayers but he was still feeling rather silly and while I was singing him his lullaby he suddenly did this flip-dive thing in his bed and smashed into my face. So I growled at him to "LIE DOWN!" before singing a hasty lullaby to Miriam and hurriedly exiting their room before really losing my temper.

No sooner had I sat down to nurse Zoë than I heard a doorknob jiggle.

"Don't do it," I warned. "Stay in bed."

Then I heard the door open.

"Get back in bed," I said.

A little head popped around the corner.

"Benjamin, go to bed."

"Mom," he scoffed and then ran over to me and gave me and Zoë a hug.

"Thanks, sweetie," I said. "I love you. Now get back in bed and stay there."

"But what if I need to give you another hug?" he asked, the saccharine words slipping through his pouty lips with ease as he expertly cocked his head and batted his eyelashes.

"Then you'll just have to save it up for the morning," I said, steeling my rapidly-melting heart against his four-year-old wiles.

Sometimes bedtime has to mean bedtime.

We've started our lasts

This morning when we went outside, Benjamin skipped down the front steps and then froze in his tracks. "Wow! Wow! Wow!" he said, "It's brrrrrrzy out here! I gotta go get my coat!" And he ran back inside to fetch a jacket. 

It was a little chilly. I pulled out my phone to see exactly how so. 

It was 67°F (19.4°C), basically room temperature, and there we were, contemplating sweaters and stuff. 

Granted, we were wearing our swimming suits. But still. 

Next (because I was still waiting for Benjamin (we haven't worn sweaters in months so I don't know how we even remembered where to find them)) I decided to check the forecast for one of my home towns: High River. Their high for the day was only supposed to be 65°F. 

I rather value being warm, so it always cheers me up to see that—haha!—I don't live in such a cold place anymore. I mean, look at this chart:

from http://us.worldweatheronline.com/

Animal crackers and van trouble

I took Zoë out of bed this morning and put her directly into the stroller so that we could walk to the pool in time to meet our friends. Knowing that she'd probably think she needed to have breakfast (these kids—they think they need three meals a day or something) I put some animal crackers in a little container for her.

Not exactly a breakfast of champions, but honestly if she expects more than that she's got to got to bed before 2 AM. Last night she went to bed at 2 AM, woke up twice before 6 AM, and we had to meet our friends at the pool at 9:30. Technically 9:30 isn't early, but we had to walk to the pool so we had to leave at 9:00 because it takes us about twenty minutes to walk to the pool (if I make Benjamin walk) and I wanted to be sure to be a little early.

Lucky for us, our first lesson of the day had to cancel or we'd have had to leave the house even earlier.

And why were we walking? Well, because on Sunday morning when I turned on the van there was a terrible shaking and grinding noise. It sounded like the van was a gravel-chewing monster. I quickly turned it off and texted Andrew.

"Uhhhh...I think we're going to be late," I wrote.

Homework, pasta, and a sick baby

Miriam's class is doing take-home reading books this year, which I shouldn't really complain about because conceptually I understand why they're beneficial. Every child in the class always has a book to read at home that's at their level. They're supposed to read it aloud to their parents a few times and the parents are supposed to ask them questions and then we sign a log and it's all hunky-dory...except that signing papers is always the straw that breaks this camel's back. I don't know why.

I can read with my children. I can listen to my children read. I can remind them to record their reading in their reading log. But when it comes signing those papers...I don't know what happens.

My arms are always full of baby or I'm busy fixing dinner or I can't find a working pen or it's bedtime so I put it off so I can keep this factory running smoothly and then I forget about it altogether and then my kids are left making excuses to their teacher like, "Well, yes, I did my reading but then my mom forgot where my paper was so she couldn't sign it."

Seriously, Miriam told her teacher that this week so that she could bring a new book home.

I can imagine her teacher saying, "Your mom couldn't find the paper in your folder, in your backpack?"

Well, yes. That seems to be about the long and short of it.

So many pictures, so little time

Rachel has figured out how to give Zoë piggyback rides. She balances Zoë on the arm of the couch and then lets her cling to her back...and also flip backwards so she's dangling upside-down (which is slightly terrifying for me).

More pool talk

I've been meaning to write for several days in a row, but things have been busy around here. I've had meetings for school stuff on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday; swimming lessons on Tuesday and Thursday mornings; in addition to everything we normally do. This Friday we were actually scheduled for play group in the morning and ukulele in the afternoon, but we're taking the day off and not going anywhere (thanks to Zoë, who is running a fever).

On Monday we had Family Night at the home of Rachel's now-former primary teacher. We're so sad about this shakeup because we love her teacher (Sister N) so much! She hosted a little family night party for the class as a final hurrah. It was fun to get to spend time with some other families in the ward, but it was especially fun for me to see how much the children's swimming has improved over the summer.

We went to Sister N's house at the beginning of summer for a pool party as well. Way back when Miriam was still wearing ear plugs because she'd just gotten over her hard-to-vanquish ear infection and we didn't want to risk getting another one (we've since relaxed); way back when Benjamin was worrisome enough that we kept him in the puddle jumper; way back when Zoë preferred to be held in the water and wouldn't dream getting off the top step of the pool.