As I wrote about yesterday, Superman is a favorite in our house. Not the new guy, but the super old cartoons. The kind that surprise you that they’re in color. Grainy, poorly narrated. That kind.For months, Brady kept talking about Superman and Moses. Together. In the same breath. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out the coorilation between this superhero and the man of faith who wrote part of the Bible. A couple of weeks ago, I figured it out. Brady and Andy were playing Superman. Andy wanted to be Superman, of course. Brady did, too. Their argument unfolded like this:

Andy: “I’ll be Superman. You be the bad guy.”

Brady: “No, I’m not a bad guy.”

Andy: “I want to be Superman.”

Brady: “No, I want to be Superman. You can be Moses. I’ll save you from the bad guys.”

A HA! It hit me. All along, Brady has thought our poor-sourced DVDs have been calling Clark Kent’s crush Moses, not Lois. :D Moses Lane?!I couldn’t stop laughing. I have since tried to correct him, but he insists on calling her Moses. He’s unique and does things his own way, without caring what others may think of him.

And I hope he always does it that way.

My mom was up again this weekend to help me out around the house while I helped with Andy’s recovery. Since they were only able to do half the surgery, he was up and around much sooner than we had planned. So, today, we packed a picnic and all of us went to a local park. This particular park is very secluded and very forgotten… very private!

 Soon after our arrival, Andy announced that he needed to go potty. Because of the nature of his surgery, we knew he probably wouldn’t be able to hold it long. Because this park is so small, it didn’t have facilities. So… like any good Dad, Nate took Andy over to some trees along the side. (Don’t freak out… we were the only ones there!) Not wanting to get into the unknown (and possibly poisonous) foliage, they stayed right on the outside of the woods. Imagine my surprise when I looked over and saw the glaring naked backside of my son, right in broad daylight. Nana and I could not quit giggling about the eclipse we experienced! (The sun and the moon in the same place!)

Just for the record, Brady soon needed to experience the same activity. Two eclipses in one day! That has to be a record, right?

Call me juvenile, but I enjoy my children and their antics.

ANDREW!

Our oldest son Andy had an outpatient surgery done today. Like any mom, I worried a bit about how he’d handle things and how he’d be when he woke up from the anesthesia. Other than being a bit grumpy, he was absolutely great.

When we got home, he wanted to watch the old Superman cartoons on DVD. I was preparing to head out to the pharmacy and I told him, “If you start to feel funny at all, you tell Daddy right away.” Instead of answering me, he climbed up on the couch, adjusted his Superman cape, and jumped!

I think his recovery has been faster than a speeding bullet.

I’ve always heard the horror stories from other moms, generally who have more children than I do. And our own condition has crept into our own family so slowly that it became habit before I realized it. It. What’s it?

LAUNDRY.

Yikes. Scary word, huh? I still haven’t quite got into that habit of doing one load a day (or however you’re supposed to tackle it). Instead, I generally wait for it to pile up and then have a big laundry day. I’m in need of one of those soon.

I had to laugh at Nate the other day. While on a police call, he had an encounter with a man who was smoking a very smelly cigar. (Aren’t all cigars smelly?) Anyway, his uniform smelled gross when he got home. He politely explained and then asked, “Any chance I could get it washed before work tomorrow? Or do you not have a full load?”

I laughed out loud. I guess he hadn’t noticed that we always have the potential for a full load these days. Always. Even if I’ve just had a big laundry day, the sheets and towels and tableclothes can always round out a load. Or I could do a quick pick up behind the door of the boys room.

For fun, we like to have camp-outs as a family. (They used to be called “Pank-outs,” but everyone has learned to say it more clearly.) We push the coffee table to the side, roll out the sleeping bags on the living room floor, pop the popcorn, put on a good movie and have fun! It’s great until it’s actually time to sleep.

Andy and Brady talk in their sleep. Evan wakes up to nurse. Nate hogs the covers. And Connor doesn’t like not sleeping in his crib, so he actually wandered around for a bit around 4:30 a.m. until Nate put him in his room. I slept ok when I did sleep. I just woke up a lot in between there. But, hey, it’s good clean fun and it’s cheap. I’ll take a nap later.

A friend of mine had this on their blog. It’s called The Cadaver Calculator. It asks basic questions to find out how much your body would be worth now if you died and donated your body to science. Click on the graphic below to take the test yourself. It’s probably not scientific (or accurate), but it’s pretty interesting.

I’ve never smoked. I’ve never drunk. Yet, I’m only worth $4490! WHAT?! Sorta makes me want to eat nothing but Big Macs, fries and milkshakes for the next week. Sorta. Except I like variety. :) 

Be sure to report your worth in the comments here. Whoever has the highest amount will win … bragging rights!

$4490.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth. From Mingle2 - Free Online Dating

I moved the couch back and vacuumed the living room really good last night. (The living room is the only room with carpet. The rest is hard wood.) I then proceeded to steam clean the carpet to get the few millions of stains out that have taken up permanent residence and had their mail forwarded.

I remember when the kids used to be afraid of the vacuum cleaner. It was so terrifying for them when they were itty-bitty that my clever husband made a fun game out of it: While I was running the vacuum, he would crawl around on his hands and knees (pretending the be afraid) and try to tag the base of the vacuum. With each tag, his confidence and his pride would (pretend to) grow. Soon, the boys were in on the game and soon they were no longer afraid. Sounds like a great idea, huh?

Flash forward to present day. Now when I vacuum or steam clean I have three little boys all trying to tag the machine! Plus, as an added measure of fun, they like to scream like they’re members of some faraway tribe and dare each other to jump over the cord. OR they like to stand right in front of my intended path and see if they can get me to change my plan or if I’ll run over their toes. (Decisions, decisions!)

Don’t get me wrong… I’m glad they aren’t afraid anymore. But the obstacles of a simple sweeping almost make me want to give it up all together. Hmm… Maybe that’s a good excuse!

I know I’ve already posted today, but I couldn’t forget to write this here to remember far in the future. Andy woke up from his nap before anyone else and climbed onto my lap. I hugged him tight and said, “I love you, Buddy.”

He said,”I love you, too, Mommy.”

Me: “Oh, really? Why?”

Andy: “Because your shirts smell good.”

Kudos to Bounce. Yet another reason to use fabric softener.

I was recently reading a post on another blogger’s site that touched on a topic Nathan and I repeatedly discuss. Our basic idea is this: children and babies are blessings, not burdens! Those of you who know us aren’t surprised to hear we feel this way. Four kids plus one miscarriage in five years is living proof

When I was a young (and career-minded) girl, I really never thought I’d have children. That might have been a defense mechanism in case I never married, but nonetheless, I never planned to be a Mom. Yet, as my relationship with the Lord deepened during college and the years that followed, I realized I needed to fully trust Him. That meant not trying to intervene with my own plans. Let me tell you: For a headstrong girl, that’s hard to do. I basically had to realize that less of me meant more of Him

For the time being, I’ll not get too deep. But I do want to quote a couple of things. The first is from momys.com (Mothers of Many Young Siblings).  The article called “Who is Your God?” is written by Grace Flynn. (I’d link to it, but the access is denied unless you sign up.) She writes:

When we hear the supporters of birth control talk, we sometimes hear quite loudly, in between their lines, that God has stepped back and is not intimately directing our lives at this time in history.   He has withdrawn His active role, that we see so pronounced in the Old Testament, and He sits and watches us, expecting us to use our brains to figure things out, such as how many children to have and when to allow them to be conceived.

The Bible does not support such a distant God.   The Bible declares Him active and alive, directing us day by day and willing to be intimately involved in our lives.

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” Psalm 46:1
“I, the Lord do not change.”   Malachi 3:6

The article goes on to question repeatedly “Who is your God?” It’s a profound question. So many people justify their limited number of children for financial reasons. Isn’t the God of the Bible the one who says, “But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus?” (Philippians 4:19).  Time and time again, God promises to take care of us if we give Him control.

PLEASE understand I’m not saying everyone has the same mindset we do. I’m just explaining ours. Basically, I just want to trust the Lord with the size of our family and with His provisions (financially, emotionally, spiritually, etc.) for us. That’s where we’re coming from. 

So, no, we’re not crazy. Yes, we know how it (pregnancy) happens. We’ll continue to view each child as a blessing. It makes life more fun and more abundant, don’t you think? 

Kids crack me up. Their mispronunciations are just one of the things that make them so endearing. Take, for instance, names. When Andy was just a little guy and Brady was a newborn, Andy said Brady’s name as “Bunny.” Every time. For about six months. It was too funny. He really thought he was saying Brady, though.

When we were pregnant with Evan, the boys often referred to her as “Oven.” It wasn’t until a few months ago that everyone started getting it right.

Our newest one has me laughing now though. Last night, the boys were playing baseball in the house (again) and Connor desperately wanted Andy to throw him the ball. He tried his normal, “Anny… Anny!” to no avail. He finally got good and mad and stomped his foot and shouted “ANOO!” That’s right, folks, he pulled out the big guns and called him Andrew. Too cute.

Andy did throw him the ball though.