We tend to weigh and measure the kids a lot. Why? They keep growing! And growing, and growing….
At the age of two, most children slow down in the growth department- not our crew. So I like to keep track of it all- I’m like that. Give me buttons to push and charts to keep and I am a happy camper.
So… because I know you all are dying of curiosity, here are the most current stats:
The Boy- 56 1/4″ (4′ 8 1/4″), 71 pounds. This puts him in over the 97th percentile in height. He is in the 90th percentile in weight.
Pixie- 46″ (3′ 10″) and 43 pounds. She is on the 90th percentile line for height and 50th for weight. And you wonder why I have troubles finding clothes that fit her!
Sunshine- 43″ (3′ 7″) and 41.4 pounds. She is in the 95th in height and 87th for weight.
I went back to the height predictor at WebMD to see if it said anything new. Since Sunshine was now 4, I wondered if it would change anything.
It assures me that The Boy will still be 6’5″.
Pixie will still be the shrimp of the children at 5’9″.
Sunshine is heading for 5’10”.
I will be the leaning post for all of them, I’m afraid.
I heard the screams coming from outside as I stood at the kitchen sink. Now if you had been watching me, you would have thought that I was a terrible, unfeeling, uncaring Mother because I just stood there. But, you see, I know that screams like that can be associated with slight bruises, light scrapes and just about any misfortune so I wasn’t too concerned.
Then Pixie opened the door and said “The Boy fell out of the tree!”
Oh great! He’s gone and broke his arm this time!
I went to the door where he met me, holding his arm. I gave him a big hug all the time thinking- he’s broken it, I just know.
He sobbed out his woeful story. He fell….
and scraped his arm on the way down.
Not broken but badly scraped. It did look like it would hurt.
But don’t you worry none, he’s a professional.
“Don’t worry Mom! I’m a professional!”
Landing! No broken legs. He’s a professional, ya know.
Sunday was a day of new beginnings. It was The Boy’s 8th birthday. I had fond memories of birthing him- yes, they were “fond”- after eight years, I can say that. And we were having our first church service in our new building!
The Boy wasn’t feeling well. Somehow he picked up the cough/cold bug and didn’t even want to eat his waffles that morning! Wow. He was disappointed as he had been looking forward to running around the new building with his walkie-talkies trying to get lost- or not. He was perking up by the time it was to leave but he wasn’t ready and I wasn’t sure about spreading germs so he and The Col. stayed home and had some quality “boy” time.
The Girls and I went off to the big event. I stayed in the nursery (someone had to do it) but the service sounded like it went well. Then a well attended pot luck and friends to chat with.
I had my trusty camera with me. A couple of people said “I forgot my camera but I knew you’d have yours so I didn’t go back for it.” Hmmm. Am I getting predictable? I was tired and the basement was dark so I wimped out. Yes, people, I wimped out and set it on complete automatic. I made my Digital SLR a point and shoot. Sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do. And they turned out well, overall. I only managed to take 150. Thank goodness for digital! Since I am awful about doing anything with them once I take them I will copy them to a CD and give them to a gentleman at church who does wonderful slide shows. It’ll be fun to see what he puts together. I think I tended to take pictures of people I know, so there were reoccurring faces but I hope I took enough shots of others too.
So, I’ll leave with impressions that will hopfully help answer the question of “why a new to us building?” Here is the old building- taken during practice for our Easter production- not the best artistically but gives a good feel of the sanctuary. Remember, you can click on the thumbnails to make them larger.
New.
Totally different feel, isn’t it?
Disclaimer: These photos were taken on the same day as Ditch Day. She is wearing different clothes today! Honest.
Taking turns even!
It’s hard work!
Brother’s turn!
Unfortunately, their combined weight made it too hard to pedal in the gravel. They didn’t get very far. I guess I can’t use the song “He’s Not Heavy, He’s My Brother” and I don’t think there has been a song written titled: “She’s Too heavy, She’s My Sister”. Which is a good thing.
Last week the weather was lovely, for a few days at least. So we walked/rode down to the mailbox and beyond.
Remember last fall and Pixie’s bicycling difficulties? Well, she still uses her feet to stop instead of the bike brakes but that is, perhaps, a good thing as she jams the brakes on so hard that she skids all over the place. She can now get going on her own and can even turn around. All without the continuous whine that used to proceed from her mouth. Here she is actually standing up and pedaling.
The Boy just took off, as usual, zipping around. Here he takes a side trip down into the ditch- and back out again.
Sorry, they look like ants! I was being left in the dust!
Then there is my baby- the one who marches to her own drum.
What interesting characters they all are. Wonder where they get it.
Note: I made these pictures “smaller” in hopes they wouldn’t take too long to load for any dial up readers out there. (Hi KN!) Let me know if they take too long to load still and if they look OK. Thanks!
“Agony! Oh agony!” shouted The Boy. He wasn’t really in “agony” although he may have been uncomfortable as he was playing Spider Boy (climbing the walls) to get his “camera traps” down from the top of the closet. The camera traps were large Legos made into various forms and placed on top of the closet in the living room area to spy on people. They have been there for almost a year, I mentioned them here back in March and I was tired of their presence. So he was climbing up the closet opening to reach them all and having to stretch to get them therefor the “agony” part. A great exaggeration.
TG heard him and after a few times started saying it herself.
“Ago-him!”
“Ago-you!”
As we ate our volumous feast at Thanksgiving, the one I had spent many hours cooking, my son smiled at me and said the meal was “awesome”. He thanked me when he went to bed for the “awesome” food! I felt warm with pride that I had provided my loved one with such a high rated meal (he often doesn’t feel that way about my dinners).
On Sunday we made turkey sandwiches (what took us so long, you ask? I don’t know is my honest answer). HP watched me make one up for the kids. I was putting cranberry sauce on it because they all love it when he asked: “Can us kids have just cheese sandwiches?” No said I. When it was all together I cut it up as HP mused farther about how he wasn’t going to like it and could he have just a quarter of the sandwich? He took one bite and said “Hmm! This is good!” With much restraint, I kept my mouth shut.
Last night I wasn’t feeling to hot due to a cold coming on so I decided to go easy and fix Polish Sausage, mac and cheese (from a box- cringe) and flavored beans. I figured that everyone was getting tired of having turkey, no matter how many different ways I have been fixing it. The Col. was working late so it was just the kids and I eating it up. After a large serving of sausage, two servings of mac and cheese and two servings of beans (and still wanting more) my Son grinned at me and said…
you know what is coming….
“This is awesome!”
I am completely deflated.
I awoke to hear footsteps coming down the hall. It wasn’t terrible early but it’s a day when The Col. leaves early and I like to lounge in bed for a bit. It wasn’t the usual footsteps that I hear early in the morning. The Otter had already been up surveying the situation and had quietly gone back to bed. These footsteps were bigger, louder so I knew it was The Boy. He paused inside the door. I contemplated not opening my eyes but he lingered long enough I thought I’d take a peek. He saw the eyes.
“Moooooommmm!”
Sigh. What?
“K dropped gum in my bed and it’s all over me! And the bed!”
Groan. Al l right I’ll be there in a minute.
As I got up and dressed I heard him jumping around in his room. I finally figured out it was to try and stay warm. I was actually feeling a wee bit sorry for him.
I headed back and first tried rubbing it off with my fingers. The Boy doesn’t have a high tolerance for pain and he is not quiet about expressing himself. After a few shrieks in my ear I decided that wasn’t working and we went to the bathroom to use a washcloth. I tried a warm washcloth because the poor skinny thing was pretty cold but that tended to soften it and cause it to get gummy again so it was taking quite a bit of rubbing. I’d work on one area, the inside of his leg, and then another, one of his arms, so that one area wouldn’t get too tender. All the while listening to the shrieks coming from his poor tortured mouth. I was hoping to get his leg cleaned off so he could get pants on to help him warm up. I was cursing K and contemplating a gum ban for her and possibly the world when she wandered in.
The Boy yelled at her that it was all her fault. She confessed that it had fallen out of her mouth when they were wrestling and that they had looked for it but couldn’t find it.
Wait a minute! THEY looked for it? Did H know it was there? Why yes, the (I really want to put “idiot” here but we don’t allow name calling in our house) precious child did know it was there. They looked for it in their childish way, exactly where they thought it landed and couldn’t see it so they promptly stopped looking. Nor did they tell a Parental Unit about said lost gum.
I promptly stopped feeling even the teeniest amount of sympathy and rubbed to my hearts content.
The gum is off The Boy but is still on the sheets. I’ll have to figure out how to get it off of there next.
What a way to start the day.
