A Lesson In Nutrition

On Friday, I had decided to make spaghetti. After all, it is something every child (including the husband one) will eat without turning up their nose in disdain. Really, a win-win situation. Of course, in pure “Courtney fashion,” I am not one to pop open a jar of Prego and pour it on some pasta. Nope. I grew up with homemade spaghetti and that is what my kids will do! So, I started chopping up the onions, mushrooms, black olives, etc. At that point, Faith pulls up a chair saying, “See! See!” In only a few seconds, she had spotted the black olives…and she wanted one! So, I gave her one and sent her on her way…knowing the child would spit it out on the floor and I would have a mess to clean up later. Well, I was wrong and, in less than thirty seconds, she was back for more. Of course, I did not believe that she actually ate it so I stopped my slicing to help her look for her olive. After saying, “more” about fifty times and proceeding to throw herself on the floor, I was convinced that she ate the said olive. So, I gave her another one. Two cans of olives later (I think I got at least a can actually into the spaghetti sauce), I managed to convince my 18 month-old that they were all gone. She even went as far as going to the pantry to see if I had mistakenly told her an un-truth.

Then dinner came. A beautiful meal complete with fresh green beans and homemade French bread. I laid the spread out before my daughter and she then discovered the hidden truth! Much to her delight, the black olives were hiding in the sauce!

So much for a (somewhat) healthy meal, because when it was all said and done, Faith had two cans of olives in her stomach and nothing else. Yet, my sauce now seemed to be lacking in them. Who am I to argue with a toddler? I mean, at least she ate something, right? I would even consider it better than the cup of ketchup she devoured at the last meal. I am definitely moving up!

The King . . . of Easy Street

My husband is a great father…a real “get-your-hands-dirty” type of guy. There is no kid duty that is too dirty (although he has whimpered a few times at Faith’s dirty diapers). He has no problem taking all four of them to the grocery store and he is not too manly to sit down for an evening Tea Party with Addy.

Last night, after a LONG day at the office, my wonderful husband came home, played with the children for a while, and then proceeded to put them to bed…ALL BY HIMSELF! What a great husband!

This morning, my beautiful children with their warm, shining smiles, came in and greeted me…ALREADY DRESSED! Now, this would seem like a dream come true, right? I mean, all I need to do is teach my three and four year olds how to peel grapes and I could just stay in bed all day! Well, the only problem with this scenario is that the clothes they are wearing looking suspiciously like the clothes that I put on them the previous day. In fact, they are! I would notice that chocolate stain anywhere!

You see, Matt just loves to put the kids to bed in their clothes. I have convinced myself that he is only doing this for me. I am sure that much thought and evaluation went into the decision. “Why should my wife have to wash an extra set of clothes (times 4) AND pajamas?” He thinks to himself. “My wife is pregnant and does not need the extra task of all that laundry. Besides, they WANT to sleep in the oatmeal crusted shirt. All they are going to do is get ‘more dirty’ tomorrow. They can just get these clothes dirtier!” I not only have a thoughtful husband, but a resourceful one too!

Needless to say, my kids are still in the same clothes. It is probably a good thing since they are playing outside. Sometime today, I will give them a bath and put new clothes on them. Who knows? Maybe those will last until tomorrow morning!

Well, I had better go. I have to wash the sheets!

The Boy's Wing

Just a couple of pictures of Dylan and no-name baby's (since Matt and I can't seem to agree) room. See, and you thought that wit was all that I had going for me! The girl can paint too!

Paint, Paint, and More Paint

Well, after about a month, a few swollen feet, and a lot of aching back, I am finally done with the girls’ room. Since I mentioned it in my last post, I figured I should post some pictures so that you could see just how crazy I am (and Buffy, for that matter, since she did it first).
I now have the baby’s room, Dylan’s room and Addy and Faith’s room done. All I have left is Alex’s room which I started last night. The kid’s bathroom has been officially termed the “painting bathroom”. There is every size of paintbrush and every color of paint one could ask for…looks like Home Depot threw up in there. Hopefully, I will finish all this nonsense and have at least a day to rest before the baby comes…only 34 days left!

Footprints in the sand...Handprints on the wall...

As many of you know, and some of you who don’t, I have about 6 weeks left in my pregnancy. For those of you who are pregnant, that is 47 days. With that said, I am going through the nesting phase. This time, though, it is a very severe case. I have been up on a six foot ladder the last three weeks painting the kid’s rooms. If that is not enough (and as if I had time) the base boards, pantry, etc. are getting a very good cleaning. I can almost hear their sigh of relief as I wash the two-year build-up of dust that has accumulated.

Well, I just had the greatest idea today. I thought that while the kids were down for their nap, I would touch up the walls. You know, all the little hand prints, nose prints, foot prints (from temper tantrums, of course) that leave their mark. Although, I would hardly say that “touch-up” is an accurate statement because I actually end up painting the entire wall as I have 4 ¾ kids with lots of fingers and toes.

As I was touching up one said wall, I came across a perfect handprint. All five fingers were perfectly pressed into my master bedroom wall. It brought to mind a story I heard once about two neighbors that were talking outside their houses. One woman, who had several children, was looking at how beautiful the other woman’s front glass door was. Not a handprint in sight! A perfect pane of glass that you could actually see through! The other woman, who had been trying to have children for years, was looking at that mom’s dirty, smeared front glass door thinking how beautiful it would be to have one just like it.

Isn’t it all in our point-of-view? Matthew and I are so very blessed. Sure, we have had our share of heartaches, but we have 4 beautiful children with all ten fingers and toes. They are healthy, happy (for the most part!) and WHAT do I have to complain about?

So, I left it there…in all of its glory. Maybe I will frame it to remind me of what I am put here to do…and it is not to erase all the fingerprints.

Daddy Cakebaker (August 2007)

Ever since I can remember, my maamaw (grandmother), has made cakes. I am not talking about any cakes. Every year for our birthday, she would ask what kind of cake we would like and it did not matter what it was. She made dragon cakes, strawberry shortcake cakes, Barbie cakes, and so on. She made wedding cakes for everyone in our family including mine. She is just an amazingly talented person…always has been.

A couple of years ago, I decided to try my hand at this cake-baking thing. I don’t know why I ever thought that this was a good idea. I only have 4 (almost 5) children. Oh, and homeschooling takes no time at all! I have all the time in the world to mess up cakes!

Last Christmas, Maam gave me my favorite gift I have ever gotten (no offense Maam!) She gave me all the old pans she has used over the years. She also gave me her Wilton cake books with her writing in them. She wrote what cakes she made, for whom, and the date. She also had pictures of all of her finished products…some with Clayton and I standing next to our prized birthday cakes! She also added some new frosting tips so that I could really make some messes.

And this is how it all began. I have done my share, now, of kid’s cakes. Some are definitely better than others. I always end up calling upon Maam for advice and of course sending her a picture of the finished product.

Some women at church had heard that I could bake cakes. I think that what they heard was a little more than my talents could carry me. Nevertheless, they asked me to make a cake for an upcoming baby shower. They wanted to make a baby carriage and I agreed. I began to sweat a little when they started handing me napkins with special designs that they wanted copied onto the hood of the cake, but Courtney never turns down a challenge!

I did a trial cake so that there was no mistaking that it could be done and I felt very relieved when the girls liked it. So, I began the cake that was to be my final product-my masterpiece! I cooked the cake the day before because I knew I was going to be at church all day helping out with a flee market. After a long day, I pulled the cake out to decorate it. It was hard as a rock. I had overcooked it. It was now 8pm. I was going to have to go to the store because I did not have enough ingredient s to make another cake. I was down on myself and began to ask Matt if I had ever done anything right in my life.

It was then that Matthew pulled out Mr. Grumpy. It is a little man he draws on his hand. He dove his hand into the icing and began kissing me with him. I had icing all over my face and we were both laughing. Instead of going to bed (as he should have), Matthew began to cut away the sides of the cake. He poured some milk and vanilla on a plate and began brushing the dry cake with it. My cake had new life and Matthew had unselfishly saved the day. Thank You.

P.S. It was the best-tasting cake I have ever made to date.

A Lesson In Leading (July 2007)

The whole family went on an early morning walk this morning. At the very end, there was a big hill, so Matt and I got the kids out of the wagon to walk. Addy started crying because she wanted one of us to carry her. Matt and I continued to walk and in true Addy-style, she stood her ground screaming, “I CAN’T WALK! CARRY ME! I told Matt that if we continued to walk, she would still be standing there tomorrow at this time. I recently had a standoff at the zoo and tried it. She is definitely the strong-willed one of the family. It does not matter if you offer her an entire candy bar. She won’t eat it unless it was her idea (or you let her believe that). I know someday this characteristic will serve a purpose, but at the moment , it is challenging to say the least.

Anyway, to continue with my story: Dylan suddenly turned around and ran back to Addy. He held out his hand and said, “Here Addy, I will help you.” They ran hand-in-hand to meet us. What an awesome example of how Christ is with us. At that moment, Dylan knew that more than Matthew and I. No matter how stubborn we are, He comes back for us, takes us by the hand and helps us along. He definitely does not yell at us and walk away!

The Visitor

An old, tired-looking dog wandered into the yard. I could tell from his collar and well-fed belly that he had a home. He followed me into the house, down the hall, and fell asleep in a corner.

An hour later, he went to the door, and I let him out. The next day he was back, resumed his position in the hall, and slept for an hour. This continued for several weeks. Curious, I pinned a note to his collar: "Every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap."

The next day he arrived with a different note pinned to his collar:
"He lives in a home with ten children -- he's trying to catch up on his sleep.
Can I come with him tomorrow?"