School Days Once Again

 When school started, the boys were definitely ready to go. S is in 6th grade, O in 2nd, and H started Kindergarten. I love how these brothers are best friends!

 When did I get old enough to have a 6th grader?!? How did my fat little baby turn into someone ready for Jr. High next year? Ah!!

 H was ready to start school the same day as his brothers. Sorry, little man, one more week for you.

 O with his teacher this year, Mrs. Cullimore.

 Packing up his scooter by himself like the big boy he is.

 I got to drive carpool to S's school the first day. How fun!

 H, after waiting for a week (and asking me every day, multiple times a day) finally started school!

 Oh wait -- that wasn't H on his first day of school. That was him wanting to go to school before he started. This is what he wore on the first day:

 What a handsome little man!

 H with his teacher, Mrs. Smiley. (Yes, that is really her name, and yes, perfect name for a Kindergarten teacher.)

 Busy at work coloring. Did not even care that I was leaving. *sniff, sniff* (And Hooray!)

 S went with us to drop the younger two off at school. What a handsome group of boys!

On the second day of school, S came home complaining of a headache. Coming in from recess, he had tripped on someone else's feet, fallen down, and had the owner of the feet plus another person fall on him and knock his head into the ground. After comparing his pupils (they were the same size) I told him to drink water and rest. The next morning his headache was worse. He felt sick to his stomach and could barely walk straight. I told him he should stay home from school, but he couldn't bear the thought (his teacher this year and his friends are fabulous!! I love them all!), so he got dressed, and told me he was going to practice the piano. I was in the kitchen making breakfast and heard him start playing. "Oh wow," thinks I to myself, "He really is feeling better! I'm glad he's upright enough to play that song!" Um,
…no. It was memorized, played like this:

 I was really impressed. And I kept him home that day. It was a minor contusion, and he was back to school the next day.

We had a friend come over and bring her daughter to play. She really likes H :)

Skeletons...

(or I Hope Ruby Will Still Love Me after Reading This Post or Maybe She'll Love Me More)

Today I thought it was time to show my 5-year old some of the demons from my past. It's time he knew truly where his mother came from and what she's made of. This decision was prompted by my response to my 7-year old's declaration, "I'm a cowboy!" What else could I do but scream/sing, "On a steel horse I ride. I'm wanted (wanted) dead or alive!" (J, on the other hand, always thinks of "I want to be a Cowboy! Baby!" Yes, Kid Rock. How we ended up together is still a mystery to me.) It was time to find Bon Jovi's album Cross Road (Thank you, Rhapsody!) and listen with H to the whole thing while we played with homemade, vanilla-scented play-dough.

For those of you who don't know, I was born and raised in New Jersey. I am a Jersey Girl. Maybe not what you think of when you think "Jersey Girl," but I am a product of the Garden State nonetheless. Is it only natural that we would be listening to Bon Jovi, this fine snowy, sunny day? It is not. Believe it or not, I did not like Bon Jovi for oh, about the first 33.95 years of my life. I didn't grow up liking them; I never owned an album; always changed the station when they came on the radio. I spent most of my youth listening to They Might Be Giants, classical music, and whatever music filtered out of my brother's room (which did not include Bon Jovi, at least that I remember).

Today, however, something changed. It changed somewhere in the first verse of "Livin On a Prayer." And (this is embarrassing) it brought tears to my eyes. I mean really, "...hold on to what we've got cause it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not. We've got each other and that's a lot for love. We'll give it a shot...We're halfway there. Livin' on a prayer. Take my hand and we'll make it I swear." (By the way, that's how the Kid Rock hearer and the Korean-American, NJ-born, Bon Jovi hearer make it together.) We won't talk about that abrupt and less-than-inspired key change in the middle of it. Anyway, them's some powerful hormones wacking out my body (very possible), or there's some truth in Bon Jovi that's resonating within me (also possible). Not fading, as a bell tolls, but getting louder and louder, reminding me of my roots.

And how's that for a random post? I'm not sure when this blog turned from updating about life with kids to my own personal sounding board, but I'm okay with what it is now. I hope you are too. I'll bring back the journaling about the monkeys, but for me, this is all about life. Life as a stay-at-home mom of three boys. Birthdays; holidays; school events; feelings of inadequacy; feelings of love and joy; kids' triumphs; my own triumphs as I learn and grow into being a better person, wife, mother; faith growing; manic-depression ebbing and flowing; managing; balancing; all that stuff.

Busta Move

Remember this priceless bit of booty-shaking?

H is at it again.


At the end he stepped on a random thing on the floor (an easy occurrence around here) and that's why he's screaming. He's fine. Now he walks around singing, "Kung Fu Fighting."

Spring Break

We've begun our Spring Break with vomit and diarrhea. I don't mind, actually. It's nice to have all my boys home. We are listening to "Peter and the Wolf" and "The Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra" while making domino tracks. Plus, since most of the kids are sick, I don't have to cook. I made a vat of chicken soup (a la Sungsook Kim) and rice, so I won't have to cook for a few days. Doesn't get much better than that! (Okay, so take away the vomit and diarrhea and there's a perfect Spring Break, but we'll take it as it is!)

Run

I want to go for a run. A nice long one on the Provo River Trail with a hill or two thrown in. I want to put in my earbuds and crank up my running music (RHCP "Stadium Arcadium") and go go go. I'll even run on the treadmill if I have to. One small problem:


















I just have to keep telling myself that it'll all be worth it once I can start running again. Patience...

Jump!

I know I should enforce a "no jumping on the furniture" rule, but then we would miss little gems like this:




And this:

R-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-n-n-n-n-n-n-n

Today I ran 11.5 miles from 2000 North in Orem into American Fork by the temple and back. It was beautiful, so I went extra slow so I could enjoy the scenery. No, actually, I went extra slow because that's how I run. I ran with two friends who, after 30 minutes, plugged themselves into their ipods and left me behind. It got me thinking: should I be listening to music when I run? Most of the team members for the Ragnar are getting their playlists together. My own J prefers techno because it keeps him going. I haven't even thought about music for the relay. It's funny because music used to be my life. I majored in music in college, and always loved to have it playing. I still really appreciate good music, of course, but with three little monkeys whose volume controls are sleeping, loud, or very loud, I have come to love and appreciate silence. Music playing in the car or at home when the monkeys are present just adds to the cacophony. With three little ones and a big one who want to talk to me, plus the noise of the sink/dishwasher/dinner cooking/plates/you name it, music in the background just adds to the noise.
I suppose, for the sake of the race, I'd better find some music that will keep me going. Do you have any suggestions?