The Child's Story Bible

This is another book I LOVE.

The Child's Story Bible has been part of our nightly reading for the last several months.  It has also been part of my Sunday school lesson on most weeks.  The stories are told with much accuracy and the attention to detail is what I really love about this book.  Most story Bibles don't tell the whole story.  They leave tons out.  This one doesn't.  Several times it has given me details that I couldn't remember so I look it up in my Bible.  Every time the book has been Biblically accurate --which is more than I can say for myself unfortunately.

This last week we skipped ahead to the New Testament to read about Jesus' last day and then Sunday we read about the resurrection.  It was so, so good.  At one point I was almost in tears as this book so lovingly explained how Jesus' sacrifice was for us:

Then they stretched Jesus out upon the cross.  With heavy spikes they nailed His blessed hands and feet to the wooden beams.  They raised the cross and set it in the hole with stones and earth so that the cross would stand upright.  Two thieves were crucified with Jesus, one on His right hand, and one on His left.

When they had finished all this, the soldiers divided up Jesus' clothes among the four of them.  His coat was one piece, without any seams.  So they said, "Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it, whose it shall be."

It is very painful to you and me to see our beloved Lord hanging there on the cross, with His blood dripping down.  But even though it is painful, we need to look, for He hangs there because of what we have done.  His blood is being shed to pay for our sins.  He loved us so much that He chose to die in our place. 

Even in His great suffering Jesus thought not of Himself but of others.  The first words He uttered were a prayer: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Wow.  This year, the old old story seemed fresh and new to me.  I read it in a book written for children.  The simple language made the simple story so easy to digest:  Jesus loves us.

I want to type out for you many more parts that spoke to my heart as I read this last week.  I know this book is for kids, and if you have kids ages 4+, I HIGHLY recommend using this book as you disciple your children.  It captivates my boys.  They look forward to the stories in here as much as any other book we have read.  But you know, even if you don't have kids, I think this book will speak to your heart as it has mine.  So pretty much... everyone needs a copy.  Besides, you'll have it on hand for the next time you get the privilege of stepping into a children's class on Sunday morning.  ;-)   

The Child's Story Bible by Catherine F. Vos

This is war.

5:30

 

The veggies are chopped and sauteing on the stove.  I turn down the heat, put the lid on (as I want them to soften up a bit), and head out to pick some green onions out of the garden. 

 

(Seems like such a nice start to the story doesn't it?  You can almost smell the beginnings of the Italian feast I was preparing my family for dinner.) 

 

Before I step out I hear Ty: "Mom!  Can you come start my water?"  I run upstairs, turn on the water for Ty's shower, then out to the garage where I slipped out of my comfy old-man-houseshoe-wanna-be shoes (love these shoes!) and into my rubber rain boots.  I walk past the basil I planted day before yesterday.  It's looking good.  It's been raining non-stop since I planted them, so I was hoping they hadn't drowned, they hadn't.  On to the other side of the house to get the onions.  I harvest my onions and while I was there took a peek at the garlic planted right beside the onions.  It was looking good to. Pleased I was. Back around and in through the garage with three green onions. Upon walking in I immediately notice the smell.  It was the veggies.  Not the aroma I'd hoped to walk into. It was more of a... well, burnt sort of smell. 

 

Crud.

 

I quickly tended to the pan.  We'll still eat them.  I wouldn't serve them to company, mind you, but my people are used to eating "blacked" food.  Especially broccoli.  I specialize in blackened broccoli.

 

After getting the veggies under control, I begin to chop the onions.  Then I look out the window.  It was Austin.   Austin.  Out the window.  In the mud.  It's rained so much around here Jack told his Dad that he thought there was going to be a flood.

 

I'm sure he's not wearing shoes.  Two-year-olds never remember to put on shoes before they go outside.  Come to think of it, none of the kids around here remember to put on shoes before going outside.  He needs to come in.  I throw the onions in the pan, wipe off my hands, then walk around to the back door to call him in.

 

Oh.  I was wrong.  He did remember shoes.

 

My shoes.

 

My man house shoes.

 

My favorite shoes.



 

 

 

Yes, those shoes.

Muddy?  Wet? 
Yes.

Dripping wet.

 

Thanks for that Austin.

I get him in, wash his feet, then back to the kitchen.

 

My onion has burnt.

 

Pasta goes in the pot.

 

I set the timer for the pasta (yes, looking for a little credit here).  I'm about to start on the alfredo sauce when I hear a scream well, maybe more a shriek.  No, probably just screaming.  At first I can't figure out where it's coming from or who is doing it.  It's not a normal sound anyone around here makes.  Most screams are playful.  This one wasn't.  I think the best way I could describe it was a  "scream bloody murder" scream.  It was Ty.  Upstairs in the shower.  I sprint up there again.  He's gotten soap in his eyes.  I think it was only the second time in his life this has happened, so it really threw him for a loop.

 

I get his eyes rinsed out and dried off and wrapped in a towel.  I tell him he's got to handle himself cause I'm in the middle of cooking.  He comes down few minutes later.  His poor eyes were all red.

 

 

 

The pasta (angel hair) which only needed to cook 2 minutes is now beyond done.

 

 

As if on cue, Brady toddles up to me.  He grabs my legs and cries. 

 

"Jack!!  Come get your brother!"  Jack pretends not to hear.

  

Based on the above evidence I conclude that the children are trying to ruin dinner.  Every night it's the same thing.  I think they get together first thing in the morning and plan their attack on dinner.  I can just hear this mornings meeting:

 

Jack: 

 

"Alright, here's the plan:

Ty, you ask to get a shower as soon as you see Mom step into the kitchen. 

Austin,  go outside in whatever non-waterproof shoes you can find. 

Ty, after Austin gets captured see what else you can do to cause a commotion.  I'll send Brady in at the end and he'll cry and fuss I'm sure of it."

 

Why? 

 

Why would they do this?  Seems like a lot of trouble just to eat a bad dinner.  Well, I'll tell you why.  Three words:  Pizza and Mac-and-cheese

 

It's not too far fetched.  I'm pretty sure they'd do anything to get Mom to give up on cooking and feed them a diet strictly of carbs and cheese.

 

Let me tell you something boys.  It ain't gonna work.  If you continue to attack me when cooking dinner, I'll be forced to retaliate.  No, I don't mean turn on a TV show while I cook.  I mean strap you in your car seats in the living room till the food's ready.

 

Think I'm kidding?

 

Try me.

 

Put that on your blog

I knew it would happen at some point and now it has: the kids are finally old enough to read and read well.  Claire, my niece, has recently discovered my blog and Emily, my sister, said she sat for two days on the computer and read most of it.  Over spring break she was talking it up to Jack.  I'm not sure what she told him, but whatever it was, it made him think it was kind of fun to be the subject written about. 

Any time something funny happens at the house he's been telling me to write about it.

Just the other day he ran down the stairs, stuck his head around the corner and says:  "Mom!  Ty and I were upstairs talking about our favorite shows and Ty just told me he liked 'Tinker Bell.'  You should put that on your blog Mom." 

Tooth Fairy

This morning I got to hang out with a cousin of mine before I left Greenville.  We were talking and laughing about raising kids and how no parents do it perfectly when she said something to the affect of "...Oh yeah, Dan and I joke about saving for our kids therapy instead of college."  We both laugh and she continues with: "...the therapy would probably benefit them more!"

 

As soon as she makes the joke my mind flashes back to a conversation Mike and I had a few days ago when I tried to sell him on an awesome idea I had come up with.  His response:  "Becca.  You know we are going to have to pay for therapy if you do this."  I think he was expecting this to deter me --He knows how I don't like to waste money.  I, however, took his comment to mean:  "I'm not telling you 'No.' But, I want no part in this."  Fair enough Mike.  Your involvement has been stricken from the record, in fact, I have it recorded right here that you were against it from the beginning.  Jack, Dad's got your back.  Mom... well, she is taking advantage of you, it's true.   But if you read very far back in this blog you'll find you had it coming.  Fair is fair. 

 

 Despite the warning I proceeded:

 

 

 

It was to be my first tooth fairy gig.  I was excited.  The only other time one of the kids lost a tooth was the result of an accident.  I was in mourning for a couple weeks thus in no mood to celebrate the tragedy.

 

This all started one morning in the middle of Jack's spring break.  I was in my room casually getting ready for the day.  I was doing things like fixing my hair and texting with some friends while listening to some Jack Johnson on Pandora.  I had closed the door to my room as well as the door that leads from my bedroom into my bathroom.  This seemingly insignificant detail symbolizes how I had temporarily checked out.  I was mentally taking my fifteen-minute break.  In most workplaces it's no big deal (and often encouraged) to leave your desk or register or station and get a breather.  When Moms do this,  bad things often happen.  Things that end with you on the phone with poison control or...

 

 a loose tooth knocked almost completely out.

 

Jack came into my bathroom with his mouth wide open and blood dripping.  I got the privilege of pulling my first-born's first tooth.  (sniff sniff)  It's the little things like this that I am so glad I don't miss.

 

Jack was beaming.  After the bleeding stopped --oh, by the way.  The shirt he was wearing?  It was brand new.  Took the tags off not 10 minutes before the blood stained it (second law of thermodynamics at work here.)  Anyway, Jack was beaming.  He walked around the bathroom hands on his hips with his face turned toward the mirror grinning widely.  "Mom.  I'm just so proud of myself."  He told me.  I smiled.  I was proud of him too.

We took a picture of him and his tooth.  He told me that tonight he would put the tooth under his pillow for the Tooth Fairy.  He carried the new treasure around with him for a while.  Then...  it got... lost.  The lost tooth was lost.  We looked everywhere.  Couldn't find it.  That's when my brain began devising a plan.

"Jack, I think you need to leave the tooth Fairy a note telling her that you can't find your tooth."  I suggest.

He agrees and dictates this note as I write:

It says:
"Dear Tooth Fairy,
I lost my tooth today, but I just couldn't find it.  So... you might find this paper instead.  I'll try to find it tomorrow."
-Jackson Edward Ellis

He thought we should sign it "Jackson Edward Ellis" to avoid confusion.  I agreed.

That night, I snuck up to his room, retrieved the note and wrote a response from the "Tooth Fairy."

"Dear Jack,

I would like to congratulate you on the loss of your tooth!  I am assuming this is your first lost tooth as I have no other paperwork in your file.  Losing the first tooth is exciting and a proud time for any child.  I am happy for you.  I see from your note that the tooth has been misplaced.  This happens frequently, don't worry we will still be able to process your claim, however, it will take a little longer for us to get the paperwork through.  Even though we are a not-for-profit corporation, the U.S. government wants us to keep careful records of every dollar that goes out.  What we need next from you is a written description of the tooth you lost as well as a picture showing which tooth is missing from your smile.  See you tonight!

-The Tooth Fairy"

 

 





The next morning he came down with the paper and informed me there was no dollar left.  I read him the note and he seemed to take it in stride.  He went right to the printer, pulled out a sheet of paper and we began to try and meet the Tooth Fairy's demands:

"Probably sharp" was my favorite part. 

He left the paper at the foot of his bed.  The next morning he received a letter on company letterhead from the Tooth Fairy with a lot of legal jargon obviously written by a novice.  Jack didn't read it, he only cared about the dollar attached to the top right hand corner.

I told him he needed to sign the paper and send it back to the Tooth Fairy for her records.

 

Jack signed both copies.  One he kept for his records and the other he returned to the foot of his bed before we got in the car to leave town.  I think he was wondering how much longer this would go on because he left her a note that said:

 

"Leveing for 3 days"

 



 

And that's it.  Pretty sure I had more fun with this than he did.  But like I said, "Fair is fair."

Lucky to be Texan

The boys and I were talking about St. Patrick's day yesterday.  Jack had learned a little about the holiday from his teacher.  She showed them pictures of Ireland and talked about the history of the holiday.  He learned about leprechauns, pots of gold and the Irish culture.  His teacher is amazing.  we are so "lucky" (read blessed) to have her as Jack's first teacher.  During the conversation I was having with the boys, Jack recounted part of a conversation they had had at school.

When trying to explain what an "Irishman" was, the teacher said to the kids: "All of you were born in Cabot..."

Jack says: "And I raised my hand. And she says: 'Yes, Jack.'  And I said: 'I am not an... an Arkansas.... I am not from Arkansas.  I am from Texas.'"

I grin then ask him what the teacher said next.

Jack: "She said: 'Oh, sorry.'"


Nothing to be sorry about teacher.  Nothing at all --unless you meant you were sorry to accuse him of being from Arkansas.  If so, apology accepted, things like this happen.  We'll move forward from here.

No idea what's going on here

 

 

"You need to be able to take a leak in your yard without someone saying, "Hey what's he doing?"

 -Phil Robertson

 

 

Apparently Jack and Ty Ellis feel that you also need to be able to take a leak in your garage without someone saying, "Hey what's he doing?"



 

 

I'll never understand males.

They're after me I tell you!

 

 

For those of you (not Chris Mathis) who, when reading about how I keep almost ruining every party Jack's kindergarten class has had think:  "Oh that Becca, she just exaggerates everything.  I'm sure she's not messing up a thing those cute little kinders are doing."

 

See below:

 

 

 

 

For those of you with questionable eyesight (Chris Mathis), it says:

 

 "Mrs. Ellis, Thank you for signing up to bring fruit for our party tomorrow at"

 

Uh...

 

What?!

 

Again! 

 

Noooo!

 

I found this wrinkled note on the floor this morning.  It was lying near the wall by the magazine rack.  I have no idea how many days it's been there.  I don't know which "tomorrow" the writer is referring to.  I don't even know who the writer is! 

 

See people?  Something crazy is going on here.  Is this a prank?  Chris Mathis, do you  have anything to do with this?  It sort of reminds me of that time I came home to find my couch on my stairs.   Except that was clearly a prank.  I'm not sure if this is...

 

  I've about decided that there's just not much I can do.  Something sinister (ok that might have been an exaggeration) something fishy is going on here and I'm pretty sure I'm the victim.  But today the jokes on them because I'm not showing up at school with a plate of apple slices for a party that happened yesterday or whenever it happened or will happen or is happening this very moment.

 

Not today.  Not today....

 

 

 

 

 



V-Day

Oh Valentine's day.... 

Depending on your stage or station of life you look forward to it with anticipation or dread.  Whether you love it or hate it, one thing is sure: it refuses to pass by unnoticed.  Everyone has an opinion of Valentine's day.       

For this never-been-accused-of-having-it-together mom of a kindergarten student the day was just another opportunity for me to blow it. 

How could I mess this one up?  I sat for a moment while my mind explored the possibilities.  Then I got up and said to myself: "Not today sir.  Not today."

I'm going to climb this Valentine's mountain, stake my banner in the ground and declare to the world that I came and I conquered.  I will not mess this one up.

Besides... it is one my last chances of the school year... we are running low on holidays.

No problem, I only need one --this one.

I've got this.

(you people are rolling your eyes. stop it. like i said. i've got this.)

Really, I do.

I've been on Pinterest and perusing the February edition of Family Fun magazine, I've got more ideas than a patent office.

I start a notebook titled: V Day.  The "V" stood for victory.

First thing:

Candy --a non-negotiable.  A card that contained candy was a guaranteed success.  And that's what we needed at this point.  I'm 0 for 3.  Team Ellis needed a win.  Candy was the play that was called.
I'm not saying you can't have an awesome valentine without candy, you can.  And I'm sure in a year or two  I will be an advocate for the group MACC --Moms Against Candy Cavities and I'll lobby the schools to send home handouts encouraging the parents to send valentine's with apples and carrot sticks attached.  ....that will be another day.

My favorite card idea was the one with a few gummy fish attached to a blue card that read:  "I'm glad you're in my school."  (Get it?  Fish... school?)

I know the five-year-olds wouldn't get the connection, but their mamas would and more importantly, the teacher would.  But.. it was featured in this month's Family Fun and what if someone else handed out the same card?

I had to change it up a bit. 

I found some Sour Patch Kids candy that looked like little gummy gingerbread men.  At least that's what the package advertised.  Perfect!  I can use those and say something like:  "You're a cool kid."  or "I'm glad we're friends." 

Upon opening the package I found they looked NOTHING like the photo on the package.  They looked more like a pinkie finger covered in sugar crystals.

Well... I guess the kids won't care.  They will eat them all the same.  The teacher and parents won't know how clever we are as they probably won't see what the gummy finger has to do with being a cool kid.  Oh well.  What really matters is that Jack doesn't feel like we failed.  If he arrives at school on Valentine's day with everything he needs, we will have achieved our goal. 

Several days before V Day (you read that right --several) I put the candy in cute little baby Ziplocs and gathered everything we would need for the project.  Then, on the eve Valentine's day we ate dinner, cleaned up and were ready to put the cards together.

It was about that time I realized we hadn't called Big Dad and today was his birthday.  Oh no!  We love him too much to not call him.  In fact, we love him to much to just call him.  We would skype.

And we did. 

Now skyping is easy if your are fresh out of college with a new laptop, a working knowledge of the computer and a room with no background noise.  At our house, if the internet is working and if I can remember out password and log in, the best we can hope for is a dull roar.  Imagine skyping while sitting on the side of an interstate or at the ocean or maybe at a nightclub or a runway.  That's what it sounds like when you skype with us.

One at a time I call the boys to the computer where they make faces at the camera while everyone else tries to make as much noise as possible.

Maybe next year we should love Big Dad enough to not skype with him on his birthday.  (Are you nodding Big Dad?)

Anyway, while we skype we draw birthday pictures.  We sing, we tell jokes then we say "Goodbye."

I put Brady to bed and we begin our Valentine cards.

Austin colored in a non-conventional way:

 

The plan was that I would write a clever little phrase on the note cards and Jack would sign his name.  But while I was getting Brady to bed Jack began his cards without me.  He found some white printer paper and some Crayons and begins to write a handwritten note. 

 

"That's sweet,"  I thought.  "He'll tire in a bit and I'll finish up for him."

But he didn't.  He wrote a short note to all 19 students!  I think each one said something different.  I asked him what he was writing on the cards and he told me:  "I'm writing something that will make them feel good."   He wrote things like:  "Awesome." and "You're the best kid." and "Be my Valentine." and "You are nice".

 

 

 

Yes, that last one does say "To: Johnny Cash"  Apparently that's what one of his classmates likes to be called.

We scrapped my thought-through idea and ended up stapling the candy pouches to Jack's notes.  Ty thought they needed to go in envelopes so he worked and worked to get those bulky letters in the small envelopes.  He folded them any way he could to get them to fit.

They looked a mess.

 

The whole thing would be a disgrace to Pinteret.

But how sweet it was.  Each note packed with love.  I was proud of my little boys and more than willing to throw out my plans for much cuter Valentines.  This holiday was going to be a success.  We didn't have to have an awesome valentine.  Jack had hand-written letters to each student.   I was pleased with him. I was pleased with the night.  We had skyped with Big Dad and the computer was still in one piece.  We had all but finished the Valentines before 7:00 and were ready for tomorrow.  I had a special breakfast planned and had even remembered to buy little boxes of chocolate to give the boys at breakfast --just like my dad always did for us. 

I'm leaning back in my chair basking in my success.  These moments aren't frequent.  I was eating it up.  As I was waiting for Jack to finish his last card he asked me a question:  "Mom, why don't I get a valentine's box like everyone else?"

What.

What?

Wh... wh... what do you mean?  I am now sitting straight up in my chair.

"Everyone else has a valentine box and why don't I have one?  You know, boxes shaped like a car, or a castle or a rocket ship."

Are you kidding me? 

Just when I think.... 

"Jack, are you sure you need one?"  I scramble to find the handouts I had gotten from school about the party. 

"Well, everyone else was bringing them."

I find the notes.  They say nothing about needing a box.  I question him further.  "Jack, is it your class that is bringing the boxes or is it other students.  Like older students?"

"Two days ago the first and second graders were bringing boxes, but today the Kindergartners brought some."

"Are they kindergartners in your class or other classes?"

"My class."

I call the room mom.

She doesn't answer.

I text another mom, she responds back saying she wasn't aware of the need either.  She emails the teacher.

Room mom texts me back saying basically you don't have to have one.  Some people do, some don't.  You just need something to put the valentines in, a bag works just fine.

What to do now?

There was really only one option in the midst of all this uncertainty and with this being one of my last chances to not mess up a holiday.... I had to make a box.

I sent Jack to bed as soon as we finished the last valentine.  Then I went to work.

What would be easy?  Different?  Fun?  Easy?

I had a unique opportunity here.  This would probably be the only year I am able to make a box without asking my children, "What kind of box do you want?"  This time I could do whatever I wanted...

So I did.

 

 

For those of you not familiar with the Natural State, this is a deer blind.  After I got done I decided this was probably not a very original idea.  These things are probably as common as cowboy boots in Texas.

 

While I worked on Jack's box Ty stayed up and wrote a valentine for Jack.  He didn't like the idea of there being a valentine for every student except Jack in our bag.  He wanted to make sure his brother got a valentine (and candy).  I suggested he make one for him.  He copied the words I wrote out.  It said:  "U R the best brother ever!"

 

Which is wrong.  Clearly this boy is the best brother ever.

 

And yes. 

Turns out:  I nailed it.

Old Man Jack

Well, as is my style, I didn't realize what day it was till Jack asked me for his old man haircut.  I reminded him we weren't going to cut his hair until the day before he was supposed to dress up as a 100-year-old.  He told me, "Mom, today IS the day before."

 

Surely not, I had another week to put together his costume.  I went looking for the handout, found it and saw that the child was correct. The 100th day of school was tomorrow!

 

It was then that I told Jack my idea of getting some sort of wig instead of the haircut.  I told him his head would be cold for the rest of the winter if we shaved it.  He did not have a problem with getting a wig or even spray on hair color.

 

I got him off to school, loaded up my recyclables and headed down toward the base.  The whole way there phoning my most resourceful friends asking if they had things like: canes or old glasses or suspenders.  I called others asking for their ideas for the costume.  What do I get where?  How much will I have to pay for a wig?  What about a bald cap?  How do you do old man makeup?  So many questions, so little time... (for real).

 

My friends are the greatest, they came through with ideas and even some suspenders and eyeliner.  A trip down to the other side of Little Rock resulted in a bald cap ($3) and some old man glasses ($4).  That was all it took. 

 

He loved his costume and wore it all day.   When I picked him up at 3:15 he was still in character.  Bald cap on backwards, he had found a pencil and was using it as his cane. All bent over, he hobbled the whole way to the van.  

 

Later on, two of the students said their favorite part of the 100th day of school was Jack's belly. 

 

"They even liked me more than the snack, Mom.  And the snack was sooo good." 

 

 

 

 

100 days

The one hundredth day of school is quickly approaching.  I can't believe I've made it!  I'm pretty proud of myself.  I think I might celebrate on that special day with gold fish crackers, marshmallows and pretzels.  I deserve it.

The kindergartners will be observing their first 100 days of school by dressing like they are 100 years old.  Jack came home and told me all about it.  He's really excited about dressing up.  I suggested we make a long white beard, this is Arkansas, this is how the old men roll.  Anyone enamored by the big beards on TV clearly doesn't live in Arkansas.  Here they are a dime a dozen.  You can't go to Walmart without bumping into 6 of these guys and their camo overalls.  Anyway, we live here, so let's do this thing!

Jack also had an AWESOME idea...

He wants to shave the center of his head and keep the bald man band of hair that connects the ears.  Dude.  This is brilliant.  If anyone can pull it off, it's Action Jackson Ellis.  He thinks it will be perfect.  I do too, assuming I don't get the day mixed up again...

I told Mike the plan.  He threw back his head and laughed.  Then he said, "Becca.  I'll tell you what you are thinking right now." 
"Go."  I tell him.
"80% of you is thinking:  That would be so awesome!  You think it's a great idea."  --spot on, I tell him.  He continues: "But then there is 20% of you that says, 'As his mother, I'm not sure if I can let him do this.'"   It's like he read my mind.  Whoa. 

He then tells me he is going to be hands off on this one.  It's up to me to decide. 
I know, long story, and I haven't yet decided if we are going to give him a "balding man" then bic the rest of it that night.  Yikes.  Are we down with that sort of commitment?

We've tabled the discussion for now, we'll see if the topic of the hair comes up again.

Tonight, since Mike is absent, we ate sweet potatoes for dinner.  That was all.  Sweet potatoes.  I was tired. Sweet potatoes are healthy.  Done.

I talked them up with the kids then gave them options of nuts, marshmallows and brown sugar as toppings.  Custom made dinner, they thought they were at burger king.

We all sat down at the table where we blessed the food and then began eating.  Everyone ate the first couple bites without much protest, but after a couple minutes I could see the excitement waning.  Oh boy.  Time to pull out the: "Did you know how nutritious sweet potatoes are?  I've heard they are the most nutritious vegetable there is.  It really surprises me that they are even more healthy than spinach cause they taste soooo delicious." 

Yep, I said all that.  Jack is going to town on his, you don't have to tell him twice.  He's always been a good eater --I love that about him.  The other three, however were needing even more encouragement.  I pulled out my iPhone and googled the nutritional value of sweet potatoes.  I read about all the vitamin A, C, calcium, foliate and potassium.  I kept going and found that beta-carotene plus the vitamin A make sweet potatoes a skin superfood.  They combat the free radicals which result in skin aging.  I saw this and translated to for the boys:

"Oh, it says here that some of the vitamins in sweet potatoes make people look younger."

Jack gasps, slaps himself on the forehead and says: "Oh man!!!!"

"I've got to look 100 years old in a few days!"

Ty quotes

I've got this nagging feeling that I've neglected to record all my funny Ty quotes.  So here we go.  These are some I've had written down in random places.  I think I might have used some of them before. (sorry)  Hopefully all of these won't be "ya had to be there"s.

 While driving along the road Ty asked me to open his window.  He stuck his hand out and exclaimed: " Mom!  I'm giving the wind a high five. Gotcha!"

------------------------------------

Mike has instituted a few "Ellis Family Rules" at the recommendation of our Sunday School teacher in Abilene.  There are a few things Ellises do.  Why?  I dont' really know.  I guess cause we say so.  One of them is:  "Ellises keep their heads up."  Why?  I guess so we don't trip.  Or miss a shooting star or maybe as a symbol of persistence, --not quitting.

We've had to quote this rule to Ty many a time.  He tends to get sad about something we say and hang his head.  As soon as he does it I say: "Ty, Ellises keep their heads up."  He'll quickly lift his head, but too his best to keep his eyes on the ground.   One day we were driving in the van, something was said that Ty didn't like so he did his best to hang his head in his five-point harness.  I see him from the rear view mirror.  "Ty, is your head hanging?" 
This time Ty keeps his head down but lifts his eyes.  "I'm not hanging my head"  he responds. 
"What are you doing?" I ask.
 "I'm just looking." 
"Looking at what?"
"My knees."

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Ty had Brady around the waist and was relocating him, against his will, backward to the other side of the rug. I intervene:
"Don't pull on him, you are going to pull him in half like a worm."
Ty thinks for a moment, I guess contemplating the results of such action. Then replies: "And destroy him in two?" 
"Yes."

-----------------------------------

I ask Ty: "Do you have to go potty?"  I already know the answer due to some non verbals he was giving me.

"No."

Wrong.  "Yes you do.  You were holding your bottom."

Without missing a beat he explains his actions: "It's because I was trying to trick you."

What did I miss?

 

I didn't attend Kindergarten.

 

I never thought much about it until 4th grade when I came across a poster at the teacher's store that said: "All I really need to know I learned in Kindergarten." 

 

I panicked.  What have my parents done to me!  You know what they say, "If it's not one thing, it's your mother."  Way to go Mom...

 

I feel like I've been playing catch up my whole life.

 

Now I have a kindergartner in my house.  I've watched him closely and so far as I can tell, I've picked up most of what I need to know along the way.  Just to be sure though, I am writing down anything noteworthy that Jack tells me of the happenings at school.

 

I have a note page of notes I'm putting together.  I'll share a few of the most recent with you.   

 

Notes on Kindergarten 

• There's no singing in the bathroom at school
• One boy was ostracized after the class Christmas party at which the kids watched Polar Express.  Boy claimed he couldn't hear the bell.
• Martin Luffin' King Jr. looks like a president.  Not sure what he was, a president I guess.
• Jake's mom works at school. She gave Jake a kiss after recess.  There was much debate among the kids as to whether on not that was against school policy.  Jack's stance was that it's ok to kiss family.
• Boy told him a secret yesterday it was: "Pshsshpshshshsh"  Jack laughed, seems it's still a hilarious joke.

 

Some art and literature:

 

 

 

Not bad...

 

 

Ok, this wasn't a school assignment, but it is a writing sample.  This is a Christmas card I bought to send to Wyatt and Harper.  The front had a picture of Santa on it.  I did not coach Jack, I simply told him to sign it.  He wrote:

"Good job being on the nice list. from Jack.  Jack Ellis Merry Christmas to my best friend."

 

 

If Jack were president he would let other people in other countries vote.  Democracy!  Oh, and he voted for Obama in the class election.  He thought it made sense since he was already the president. 

 

 

This was something he made for Gigi. She likes using nature in her art.  He picked up some leaves and glued them to make the wings on his soowpr mario.

 

 

 

What he would have rather had on Thanksgiving: pizza mac and cheese, mashed potatoes with gravy, popcorn...

 

 

This is just a little ditty he wrote while traveling back from a visit to his homeland.  Everybody join in at the chorus "dadaDADADADADADADADADADAD, myyyyy faaaavorite staaaaate!" 

 

 

A picture of some "fun cosans" complete with their DOBs.  I'm pretty sure Brooks, Ben and Brady are going to have to prove themselves before they get a caricature.

 

 

"What are your qualifications for working in the elf bakery?"  Looks like we should go over some things before sending him to a job interview....

 

 

Ha!  Like that will ever happen....

 

 

Here he was given the words "grubs, cubs, rub, tub, run, fun, gun and sun" and told to use them in sentences.

 

 

Water park?  Fo' sho'

You coming?

 

 

Bubbles!

Brady had his first bubble bath today!  Austin got to join because Becca doesn't often purchase bubble bath.  We were trying to get the most out of it.  Before getting in the bath, I had Austin get on the potty.  We all know what boys do as soon as they get in the bath.  Girls probably do it too, but it's harder to prove.  Austin was soon cleared for entry into the tub.  Now the water will stay clean!

Both boys had fun examining, picking up and ultimately eating the bubbles.  They were all grins and giggles for most of the bath time.  As was I, I might add, for my big boys were downstairs cleaning the kitchen while I got to sit in front of the tub and watch my little ones squeal with delight.  I wished I had brought up my phone and gotten some video of the guys.  I was reminded of Jack and Ty when they were this age playing in the bathtub --only then no one was cleaning my kitchen while the babies were bathing.  Today was a win for Becca, no question.

After lots of play, the fun had to come to an end.  There is a bedtime in this house and it's not good if we don't observe it...there is a lot of fussing and whining if I don't get in bed at a reasonable time.

I drain some of the water out of the tub.  We still have four or so inches in the bottom of the tub.  Enough to keep Austin warm while I get Brady ready for bed.  I pull out Brady.  He is standing by the edge of the tub getting dried off when something dawned on Austin.  He looks up to me, his eyebrows furrowed and the tone in his voice confused and disappointed: "Where's my bubbles?" 

I break the news to him:  "I'm sorry Austin, bubbles don't last."  What a hard reality to face.  Being two is not easy folks.  It's not easy.  Sometimes it's downright hard. 

I continue (because we all know Becca can't stop with one sentence answers), "Bubbles pop and then they disappear.  We can't see them any more.  Sorry buddy."

He looks down at the water, lip sticking out, thinking about what I just said.  I kinda felt bad for the guy.

Just then we hear four measures of this tuba like sound coming from Austin's behind. He picked up his face, grins up at me and says: "Bubbles!"

I sooooo wish I had it on video.  It was too cute.

I take my other naked baby into the bedroom to get dressed and upon returning, find Austin ankle deep in a tub full of floaters.

Looks like someone got a little greedy for bubbles...

You can't win 'em all

It was Sunday again.  We had 13 kiddos in our class this morning.  Wow.  It was nuts.  That was just my class, not 4A and 4B.  Just mine!  We did some creative stuff, and I talked to them during snack time about the ins and outs of Jesus' dinner at the Pharisee's house.  We talked about how important those guys thought they were and how mortified they must have been when that dirty woman walked in.  It is a good story, but I was trying to be super careful to keep it on a four-year-old level.  It was hard.  I tended to talk lots about the details of the story and less about this woman's occupation and why the Pharisees were so put off by her.  Overall, I think we did fine.  I had a good teaching partner who helped me keep things moving along.

Later in the day, I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth and fixing my hair in an attempt to make it to a meeting at church.  Ty walks into the bathroom and upon seeing the toothbrush in my mouth decides the mic is his.  He starts talking about something, I'm not really sure, I couldn't hear him.  My toothbrush is electric and my hearing is bad.  I finish brushing and turn off the toothbrush about the time his little ADD mind switched to a new topic. This is what I hear:


"This morning at church when it was boring I was talking to Hudson.  We wished we were at my house doing the zipline.  We were wishing we were there when it was so boring when you were talking to us.  But he says he’s afraid of heights.  So he doesn’t want to do it. (short pause)  It was so boring today at Sunday school.  (another pause) boring, boring, boring." 

humph.

Mike says next year we are signing up to be Jack's teachers... or Austin's... or maybe even Brady's.

Getting some feedback

So I teach the four-year-olds on Sunday mornings.  It's great.  No you can't have my job.  I like those little boogers.  They are young enough to not care if you don't teach perfectly, yet old enough to not need a diaper change.

I taught today using some awesome props  --transformers.  Ten of them to be exact.  They represented the ten lepers that Jesus healed.  These toys easily lose legs and arms when played with, so I thought it would be fitting to use them as lepers. The story is that only one came back (in our case it was megatron) to say thank you to Jesus.  I thought the lesson was great.  The lepers were "transformed" right before our eyes after Jesus (played by a wise man left over from the Christmas story) told them to go show themselves to the priest. 

All of the 20 (yes 20) kids were paying attention at one point or another.  Afterward one boy came up and told me about all the transformers he has at his home.  Little while later a girl walked up with her stuffed animal and told me, "Look I have a leper too."  I looked down to see her pet leopard.  I thought it was fitting for the lesson today.  I did not correct her.

After lunch I asked Ty how the lesson was.  I'm expecting rave reviews. 

So I ask him:

Me: "Ty, did you like Sunday School today? Did I do good with the lesson?"

Ty: "You did great mom!" he said, with much inflection in his voice.

(just what I thought.)

Me: "Oh thanks.  I'm glad it was good.  What part did you like the best?"

Ty:  "I didn't like any of it."

Me: "What?!"

Ty: "Yeah, it was good, but I didn't like any of it."

Me: "Why?"

Ty: "It's cause I don't like lessons."

Well... at least the girl with the leopard got it.

drum roll please

Well folks, It's the moment we've all been waiting for.  The newlyweds are home from their honeymoon and now we will find out what we've wondered for so many months...

As one of the oldest in my family, I have always looked after my little siblings.  Back in the day, when I took the younger ones to the swimming pool I wouldn't rest for a moment.  I would constantly count the faces sticking up out of the water: "One, two, three, four, five (pause) one, two, three, four, five (pause) one, two, three, four, five...".  You get the picture.  No one was going to drowned on my watch.  Then there was that time I threatened to beat up a girl for shoving Hannah.  (Can you believe I did that!)  Not my finest moment --but she never touched her again.   And of course, I made Grant come with me to the ladies room till he was 10.  Things like that.  I took care of them.

As everyone got older this role I found myself in begin to look different.  The littles no longer needed me to keep them away from strangers, but rather protect them from the ones that wanted to be more than just friends.

"Ok, ok."  I'd nod to myself when a new boy entered the picture.  "Let's see what you're made of."  I wasn't going to sit by while a coward tried to woo my sister.  A creep wouldn't do.  A lazybones wouldn't fly.  No.  The boy was going to have to be quality material or he couldn't have her.  It was still my watch.

I'd poke and prod.  Let's see what he's really like under all that polo and cologne.  I'd be cordial when introduced to the guy, but not initiate any conversation whatsoever.  Then would come the expressionless stare when we were in a large group of people (i.e. with my immediate family).  Making sure to catch his eye every once in a while.  If he made it through that, I'd attempt to destroy the confidence he had had to muster up to even consider dating a Boshart.  I'd say things like:  "Is that the best vehicle you could find to take her on a date in?"  or "What happened to your hair?"  or  answer "hmm...I don't think so" to every request he would make.   

Most were gone by this point.  If they weren't.  I'd continue with the insults and begin making fun of him in public any chance I got.  (there were usually lots of chances.)  If I was having a hard day because somehow said dude managed to pull everything together, I'd just bring up past failure like: "Remember that time you lost the bocce balls when we were camping?  There was nothing to do the rest of the trip.  Remember?  My kids were soooooo bored." 

Sisters:  You're welcome.

I never hated the guys, most of them I kind of liked.  But that was beside the point.  The point was:  I needed to know how bad they wanted her.  If they were going to put of with having to see and hear from me at every family gathering, then maybe just maybe they were committed to the relationship.  And that's what I wanted to see.  Another bonus is that we were able to see how these guys handled pressure.  Were they humble?  Were they hotheads?  The girls took note.  (You're welcome.) 

As it began to take a more serious turn I'd ask questions such as: "What expectations do you have for a wife?" "What qualities do you see in her that make her marriage material?" "How do you plan on supporting her?"  "Do you want her to work?"  "Do you like hunting?"  "Describe how you envision a typical Saturday morning when married."  "Do you do laundry?"  "Dishes?"  "Do you expect your shirts to be ironed?"  "How many hours a week do you watch football?...."   Some people would call me nosey.  I call it covering your bases.

It's not an easy role to play. I'm not really that kind of person.  Gentleness and forebearance come more naturaly to me.  Emily, however, had enough jobs as the oldest, so the responsibility fell on me. 

Here we have Chrissy and Joe, fresh off the plane, ready to start doing life.  His endurance has proven he wants her.  Now we get to find out what he thinks of the rest of us!

Soon the questions will be answered:

Did he ever really like Dad's fudge?
Will he spend part of his Christmas with the in-laws?
Will that trip up to see Becca and the boys ever happen?
Does he enjoy sitting around the table listening to our chatter?
Will he take a rotation in the kitchen?
Does he really like playing Settlers?
Are he and Austie really buddies?
Will he continue to let us borrow his truck when we move?  Will he offer to help?

The suspence is killing me!

He's got the girl --and I have to say, he's earned her.  Now we get to see if he just wanted Chrissy or if he will embrace the rest of the crazy that is his new extended family.

And Joe, my job is done.  We can be friends now.

...And yo mama dresses you funny!

I walk out of my bedroom and into the living room to find Jack crying on the couch.  Ten minutes earlier we had all been upstairs coming up with a plan for the race track.  Jack and the gang had put together a great track for their motorized cars.  It worked perfectly except for one thing.  The cars went too fast around a corner and often times flipped off the track.

We decided to make a guardrail.  The instruction booklet showed us how to build one so I handed Jack the book and called him the project manager.  Ty (naturally better at Lego's and this sort of thing) very much wanted to help.  He hovered close, anxious to help with his fingers or nose in the way most of the time.  Austin, being two, is still in the destroyer mode, so I had him gather the pieces for the rail.  Ty did some gathering and I was hoping Jack would give him a small task to put together while he studied the instructions.

Things seemed to be under control so I went downstairs, back to my bed and snuggled under the covers to play with my current favorite app on the iPhone.  (You think I'm joking.  I'm not.  I've taken very seriously the words: "Christmas Break".)

While I was lazily playing on my phone, things weren't working out very well upstairs.  Jack has very few managerial skills other than being born first.  Austin doesn't know his colors or numbers quite well enough to be told to "find 4 short blue rods" and actually show back up with the requested items.  Ty, the poor second born who just wants to be helpful, didn't have a specific purpose.  No second born likes to be without purpose.  All we really want is to make everyone happy.... and play games on the iphone...


I ask Jack why he was crying.  He told me Ty had said some hurtful things to him. 

I asked him what things he had said and let me tell ya, they were bad.  I was so impressed with his creative insults that I wanted to record them.

Me: "What things did Ty say to you?"

Jack :  "He said that he would never climb trees with me again after the Christmas lights come down.  and he said that he wouldn't be my brother in heaven."


yikes!

After some coaching I sent him back upstairs to make amends. 

He came down less than 3 minutes later and told me that people weren't treating him like the boss (oh brother... firstborns!)

Well then let's just take a break.  You stay down here and do some work while you think about how you need to go back and respond to Ty.

Jack starts working.

Ty comes down looking all sad and climbs up into my lap (I have abandoned my bed and am now sitting at the computer typing this post) and says:  "Jack's not being nice to me."

"He's not?"  I ask.

"No.  He came upstairs and told me that you had given Austin a new job.  It was to punch me in the face."

wow.  and no.  That was not my recommended course of action.

Lawd have mercy!

Jack walks into the kitchen where I am pouring myself a cup of coffee.

"Mom, did you hear the toilet flush thirty seconds ago?"

"Yes."

Jack's eyes light up.  "That was me,"  he grins and then continues:  "I was practicing a sloosh!"

"A what?"  I ask.

"A SLOOSH."  He repeats, only a little louder and clearer this time.

"What's that?"

"It's when you put your head down and..."

"DID YOU PUT YOUR HEAD IN THE TOILET?!" I exclaim.  I'm genuinely shocked.  Shocked. Who would do this --to himself?  I wish I could have seen my face.  Surely my eyes were as big as the rim on my coffee cup.

My reaction causes him to quickly reevaluate whether or not this was a good idea.  He proceeds a little more cautiously:  "Only half-way."

"Ok, well... go wash your hands then go upstairs and get a shower."  -what else do you say here??

"I just washed my hands."  He holds out his hands for inspection.

The boy sticks his head in the toilet and flushes it, but makes sure to wash his hands.  I will never understand men.

"Is your hair wet?"

He feels the top of his head.  "No."

"Ok.  Never do that again.  And it's called a 'swirly.'"