Hail!

We lived through a crazy storm yesterday.  We did not have just wind, or just rain.  We experienced  strong, bough bending winds, torrential rain, and golf-ball sized hail pounding onto the roof.  

The storm may have only lasted as long as a re-run episode of Seinfeld, but its effects were incredible. 

Now that I am looking back at the pictures from this thirty minutes of extreme weather, it seems amazing that so much water came down so fast.  To go from extreme heat, humidity and dry, scorched earth to storm clouds and rain was an incredible experience.  The lifelong desert rat that I am can't help but get a little emotional at downpours such as this one. 

At first the girls and I thought it was just rain.

Then the pounding began.  The hailstones covered the front and back yard, pounded on the windows and roof, and basically scared the living daylights out of my oldest daughter.

The rain soon covered the sidewalk, and water filled the gutters.

This may not seem like a big deal, but rain spilling off of the roof of my house is HUGE!

I ran out to the front lawn, umbrella in hand, to collect this monster of a hail stone.  

Cupped in Cubby's hands, the hail stone is clearly one size larger than a golf ball!

A standing water puddle in the desert?!  I've got to get my camera, this is insane!

Once the hail had ceased from rocketing out of the sky, the rain continued to fall.  Lovely, lovely raindrops covered my windows.  

More raindrops dripped from the eaves.

And then the rain stopped.  My backyard hasn't looked this fresh and clean since last April.  

Finally the sun came out.  This summer storm was so brief, that it seemed to appear as if I had just sprayed off the sidewalk with a hose.  But after a closer look, I noted that the ground had turned muddy, the streets were slick with rain, and sadly, some friends' cars still carry the scars of their violent collision with hail stones.

Early Riser

I am not a morning person.  It is, therefore, quite ironic that I married a farmer, who chose his life profession knowing full well that he would have to wake up every morning at 5:20 AM, to be out the door at 5:45 AM.

Most of the time, I don't hear him get up and get ready, so I sleep in until I either feel the first kid snuggling up to me in my bed (usually E) and/or the first baby crying out for, "Mah-Meeeeeee!" or "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaa-dee!"

My oldest daughter, the big girl attending her fifth day of kindergarten today, is an early riser like her dad as well.  I remember from about twelve months to age two (yes, a full year!), E would wake at three in the morning.  She was fully awake, and Danny and I were both zombies.  I would take her back into the playroom, pull out some puzzles, books, or toys, and she would fiddle around while I pretty much passed out on the carpet beside her.  Since I was pregnant part of this time, and subsequently taking care of newborn baby Cubby, it was a tough go for a while.

I have tried to get up when Danny wakes up, but then I have to go to bed right when the kids go to bed to get enough sleep.  If I do that, it feels like I have no "me" time at all during the day!  So I usually slip back into my old habits of sleeping in until 7:00 AM, and going to bed at 10:30 PM or 11:00 PM.  You can imagine how tough this is on Danny, who regardless of my flippant sleeping and waking schedules, still has to wake up at 5:20 AM every single morning.

All this has changed since five days ago when I had to start getting all four kids up, dressed, and fed in time to load up into the car to take E out to school which is a fifteen minute drive out to the country.   I was complaining about how tough it was every morning, and how I never had time to eat my proper Clean breakfast, when Danny shed some light on the situation.

"You need to wake up when I leave," he said simply.  And he was right.  So for the past two mornings, I have made myself roll out of bed at 5:45 AM.  Although I start out cranky and groggy, my mornings have quickly become the greatest part of my day.  My quiet breakfast eaten while reading a daily devotion (Our Daily Bread Daily Devotional), then working on my computer, has quickly become a sweet, mellow, wonderful time I look forward to spending.

To sweet, mellow, and wonderful, I should add that sometimes my quiet morning feels a little short.

You guessed it, my brood is rustling in their beds.  Time to begin the routine.  And this morning, I feel completely ready.

4:00 PM

 Four o'clock is my current favorite time of day.  Over the years, my favorite time has changed, depending on what was going on in my life.  

I hate to admit it, but my very favorite time a day one year ago was when the babies were napping.  I remember feeling like I had a little piece of my old life back.  That old life included cooking more, playing with the girls, and having a tiny bit of "me" time.  

Before the twins were born, I loved breakfast time with the girls.  We ate leisurely, discussed silly or important things, and enjoyed each other's company. 

Times have changed once again, as they always do.  

These days, four o'clock represents an unusually harmonious time in my household.  The babies have just woken up from their naps.  Their ruddy faces and unruly hair and soft bodies always make me smile and make me want to snuggle.  The big girls have lately decided that this time of day is their favorite time to work on art projects.  They sit at their little white table and color and draw, and at times, fuss with each other over crayon ownership.  I, meanwhile, am posted at my new favorite location in the house, the kitchen island.  While stirring up some marinade, or pouring batter for muffins, I overlook my brood and feel a sense of pleasure and encouragement over seeing everyone doing so well.  "We made it!" I think!  Four o'clock is also just ninety minutes away from when Danny comes walking in the door from work.  The late afternoons always feel a little more hopeful to me for that reason.  Not only do I look forward to seeing him because he is such a big help to me, but he comforts and soothes the stress temperature of the house.  

These past two difficult years of shock over being pregnant with, then giving birth to pre-mature twins, then managing a household with four kids under age three has made me appreciate the little moments.  It is in these little moments that I see what blessings I truly have.  It is also in these moments that I see God, in all of His wisdom, for knowing what was best for Danny and I.  Even when we kicked and screamed as we protested, God watched over us and sometimes without even being asked, gave us the strength and courage to continue on another day.

Ok, now for the pictures.  Here is a visual of my 4:00 PM.

My big kindergartner loves art.  At this moment, she has taken a break from singing, but just prior to this, she was belting out princess songs in her fullest vibrato.

Cubby is happily hangin' with her big sis and coloring as well.  She hums along to her big sister's singing, which is a sweet thing in itself.

Little G has become a bookworm in the past few weeks.  She dutifully carries out book after book to the living room, where she plops down and looks through each one.  Actually, if I was completely accurate, I would have to admit that little J.D. does the major amount of book carrying for his sister.  He receives his orders of, "Da-da, moh book-sss!"  And without question, runs into his bedroom to gather more reading material for his twin sis. 

Now, you might be asking yourself, what is a little boy to do amidst all of this estrogen laced peace and harmony? 

J.D. chose to do the most masculine thing possible.  He grabbed this plastic rake, and started banging it down on the tile floor.  He was very pleased with himself after each of these little tirades.  Why did he do this?  No clue.  But I do know that when he would finish with a banging session, he would smile, then look at me, and I would smile back at him to let him know it was o.k. with me, and he would continue.  

Four o'clock is a happy, magical time in my home.  I wonder when my next favorite time will be?  

Twin Language

People are always asking me if the twins have a secret language.  Up until now, I have said no.

Little G has been babbling for at least six months now, and has tons of words and even sentences in her vocabulary (my personal favorite: "I did it!").  Her twin brother, J.D. is a boy and therefore is a little slower in every department.  When asked if he wants something he responds, "eh."  I have become quite adept at translating his seemingly wishy-washy response into yes and no answers.  "Eh" normally means yes, and "Neh" means no.  To be honest, if I get it wrong, I'll be the first to know.

In the last couple weeks of so, the twins have really started communicating.  It began with little babbling discussions across the table from one another.  They would babble and gesture, as if they were really talking, then break into laughter at appropriate moments.  J.D. has a way of getting his sister to laugh like no one else.

They have increased their communication quite a bit, so that they now have nicknames for each other.  The nicknames, coincidentally, are the same for both.  J.D. refers to Little G as "Da-da," and she calls him "Da-da" right back.  It can get a little confusing when Daddy is present, but we've learned to differentiate the two names.

I love to hear them calling to each other or asking for the other's help.  Just the other day, Little G was in her bed just before nap time, and wanted her baby bunny.  She started yelling to her brother, who was not yet in his crib to help her out.  I heard her call out, "Da-da!  Daaaaaa-daaaaa!"  Now J.D., who was sitting on the carpet with me, jumped up and ran in to see what he needed to do for her.  I could hear her say "Da-da, Geecie, baby bunny," which means, "J.D., get me Gracie's baby bunny."  She still refers to herself in the third person.  He promptly ran around, located the bunny, and deposited it in her crib.

Anyway, that little moment of twin cooperation made my day, possibly my week.

First Day of Kinder....Again

I woke up this morning at 6:15 AM.  I don't normally wake up that early, but today was unavoidable.  I had a very excited five year old loudly whisper me out of a dead sleep to remind me that today was her first day of kindergarten at her new school and she did not want to be late.  It was too early to remind her that not once had she gone to school late in her whole life, but, hey I can console myself now.  

My oldest daughter, known simply as "E" on this site, attended kindergarten at the local elementary school last year, which, I might add, sits only three blocks away from our house.  She is a November baby, and when she entered in 2009, she was four, turned five that fall, and was from then on out called "the baby" of the class.  She excelled academically, but seemed to flounder socially and emotionally.  It was during her birthday month that I decided to pull her out of kinder, try to get her into a pre-school, and try kinder again next year.  By that time, however, she had reached a milestone.  She had made friends, fell in love with her teacher, and realizing how quickly she was learning to read, became a straight-up school girl.  Danny and I decided to let her continue, and make the tough decision about the following year later. 

I deliberated over this decision for months.  I spoke to fellow parents of young kindergartners, education professionals, and young students themselves to prepare for an outcome.  I walked away from all of this research with a wholehearted, yes, she should repeat the year.  She needed to be in a class with kids her own age.  Even if she did experience a tough second kindergarten year, she would still be in the right place when entering junior high, high school, and college.  

We then decided that we didn't want her to repeat kinder at the same school, due to the almost certain stigma she would be made aware of with her former classmates moving up to first grade, while she remained behind.  So we pushed and got her into the top academic school in our town, a country school which is about a 12 minute drive away.

Today was her second first day of kindergarten.

She is beyond excited.  In her backpack she carries crayons, sharpened pencils, and three hand-written notes to her new teacher.  Notes that say things like, "I love you" and "I love school," but might be translated by the teacher as, "I was in kindergarten last year and already know all my letters and how to read and write basic words."

Danny met us at the house at 8:00 after being at work already for two hours.  I packed him a breakfast, which explains the foil covered dish.  E felt very special having her dad come home to attend her first day of school.  In the background, J.D. appears to be wondering why he can't just ride off into the sunset with Danny in his big truck to search the world for tractors and hammers for the rest of their lives.

My happy beautiful girl.  I know every parent on the planet says this kind of stuff, but I really can't believe she'll be turning six in a few months!

Another four under five winner!  I am starting to see a trend.  My four little kids CAN all stand in a photo and smile, or attempt to do so, for a brief moment.  The trick is to get ready with my camera on time!

After this photo session, we hopped into the car and headed out to the country.  We joined a line of Suburbans, Tahoes and trucks heading out to the country with squirmy, excited seat-belted youngsters inside.  Once at the school, we marched straight over to the kinder classroom.  Now up to this point, E was the picture of excitement.  

However in the classroom, something changed.  She saw the new teacher, and realized it wasn't her treasured teacher from last year.  She looked around at the other children's faces and recognized no one.  The classroom was large and unfamiliar.  I saw a shadow cross her face, and she reached out to me and said, "Mommy, don't go."  Luckily, we were all invited out to the flag salute, and we stood near E and her class.  Afterwards, while walking her back to her class, I assured her that she would be fine, and that I would be back to get her right after lunch.  She seemed a little dazed, but we had to go, so I grabbed Little G, Danny held J.D. and Cubby followed us out as we walked to the car.  

"She's going to fine," Danny and I said almost simultaneously.  

And it turns out, she was.  She did have an upsetting encounter with a "big kid" on the playground which prompted a few tears, but the majority of the day was fun, although hot.  She already made a new friend she reported, and she loves her teacher.  She also loves the merry-go-round, which she calls the dizzy thing, and she liked writing her name a bunch of times, since she already knew how to do it.  

Not to sound super corny, but perhaps some things are better the second time around.

The Grandma Effect

My mom is pretty magical.  And my kids all think so, too.  

She is an excellent public speaker, a thoughtful mentor, a creative writer, a loving wife, and an incredibly sage mom and friend.  

I love her very much, obviously, but I am constantly struck by just how much mine and my sister's kids love her.  My mom's relationship with her grandkids is slightly reminiscent of the pied piper.   Her soft voice singing lullabies is soothing and causes instant drowsiness.  The games she invents are engaging and age appropriate (need I remind you of Sydney Lee's Fashion Show extravaganza?), and her ability to make any book instantly captivating is a skill I hope to inherit.

This ability of my mom's to instantly magnetize any and all grandkids in her near radius to gravitate to her is known as The Grandma Effect.  Danny's mom has a similar effect on the big girls, and the babies are beginning to show signs of weakness to her powers as well.  Personally, I love The Grandma Effect. I am able to have moments of almost completely uninterrupted peace when a grandma is in the vicinity. With four kids under five, the peace doesn't last long.  After a while, the grandmas do usually end up leaving a bit frazzled and worn out, but that's the price they have to pay for being grandmas!   

I love this next picture because it is the most obvious visual representation of The Grandma Effect I have on file.     

Grandma Donna is doing what she does best, reading to the kids.  Her mini-me grandchild, Little G is sitting serenely to grandma's right, probably hoping her cousin Ellie will find something more interesting to do that is anywhere but on Grandma Donna's lap.  She seems a little jealous, perhaps mildly peeved that she is playing second fiddle to Ellie, but she knows that if she cries, Grandma Donna will put her in her crib, or worse, leave our house altogether!  J.D. is interested in the book mainly because Grandma Donna has mesmerized him with her musical voice.  Even though something inside him is telling him to go grab a hammer or drill right now, he is under Grandma's spell, and is unable to move.  Cousin Ellie has the cat's meow.  She is front and center on Grandma's lap, enjoying the book, laughing and squealing to her heart's content.  

The Grandma Effect, folks. It's real, and if you haven't observed it in your life already, it's probably happening in your very near future.  Be afraid. 

Backsplash!

We are one step closer to finishing the kitchen.  

We had a lovely couple (yes, a husband and wife tile team) come in to lay the tile on our lovely wall colored backsplash.

Pre- backsplash.

Another pre- backsplash.

Post splash!!!!

Woo-hoo!!!

And look how lovely it looks as the background to my delicious Clean sweet 'n sour chicken dish.  

And here's a random picture of some incredibly moist bran muffins (with grated carrot!) I baked today.