Boo

Leah Viola (Boo pronunciation Vo-lie-ya) is now one whole hand old. My how fast it goes.

My Boo is a just like a twinkling little Christmas light, she is. She came into this world wrapped in sparkly tinsel with a star right on top of her pink little head. My soul delighteth in that child.

That had to be my very favorite Christmas. I did my derndest to get everything up and ready for Christmas before she came. And then, when we brought her home in the worst snow storm in the history of bringing brand new babies home in snow storms, we were able to walk into a darkened home lit only by the glow of the Christmas tree. That girl knows how to make an entrance. Serene. I would lay with her on the couch during the night feedings with that Christmas tree as our only light and marvel at the blessing. It is so wonderful to be able to celebrate the birth of our Savior while cradling a tiny baby yourself.

But now that tiny baby has grown into my sweet ray of sunshine; although she still has her tiny munchkin voice that I hope stays forever. She packs so much love and happiness in that not-so-little-anymore body that it can hardly be contained. She's the perfect younger sibling, and accepts hand me downs from her big sister with honor and pride. Anything that was owned by Abigail is the best thing Leah could ever ask for. She's also a wonderful big sister, and can smother those two little boys until they scream. Literally.

You wanna know 5 fascinating facts about my Boo? It was a rhetorical question, so here you go!

1. Her favorite song of the season is "George to the World". It's a Christmas classic. You know it, "George to the world, the Lord is come."

2. Leah is still deathly afraid of EVERYTHING. No, seriously. Everything.

3. She was at her friend's house the other day, and another friend didn't want to share something. She came home and told me that kid was being like Nathan.

"Nathan?" I asked. "Who is Nathan?"

"You know, Nathan. The bad guy" she said with her nose squished up. "Not like Jesus. I was sharing so I was being like Jesus. That other kid was being like Nathan."

4. She's a pro at preschool now. Favorite days are when she gets to bring the snack bucket and show and tell Fridays. Being 5 is like being a rock star, right?

5. She is deathly afraid of EVERYTHING. It's worth mentioning twice because you probably thought I was exaggerating. I'm really not. I really mean EVERYTHING.

Seeing my Boo turning 5 feels like seeing a shooting star. She's just so happy, that kid. And when she's around, it's so wonderfully contagious.

The One Thing

There is only one thing that's redeeming about winter. Just one. The rest I can do without. If I never saw another snow flake for the rest of my life I would die a happy and warm person. Snow comes from H E double ski poles. And along with that, Christmas would be so much better if we were to wake up and wish each other "Mele Kalikimaka" instead of "Merry Christmas".

So, what could it possibly be? What could make the lack of bare feet and short sleeves just the tiniest bit tolerable? The one and only good thing that comes from winter is...

DRUM ROLLLLLLL

Footie jams! Couldn't you just sprinkle them with a little cinnamon and sugar and devour them whole. Mmmm, warm little piggies in a blanket. Delish.

Christmas By The Numbers

As kids, my mom got us each a new ornament for the Christmas tree every year. Plus, you have the years here and there where you make one at school to bring home as well. This means that I came into our marriage with a good 2 dozen or so ornaments. Jeb also had a few that came with him, not quite as many, but a few. Plus, my mom continued the tradition of new ornaments and added Jeb into that as well. So, we each have 15 more ornaments in our Christmas boxes.

Then came Abigail. She now has 11 of her own ornaments just from grandma. Plus a few from school here and there.

Add in Harrison. He has 8 grandma ornaments.

Leah has 6.

Hudson has 3.

Holden got his first one this year.

Woah, that's a lot of ornaments, right? Want to see how it looks when every single one is given the opportunity to be displayed on the tree?

Ah breathtaking, I know. The secret? If you put at least 4 or 5 on each branch, you can make it work.

Sometimes at night I can actually hear the tree groan.

Public Service Announcement - you can thank me later

With the Christmas season upon us, and children everywhere and in my house making lists for Santa, I thought it would be right neighborly of me to offer a bit of advice regarding certain children's products that might be requested from the Jolly Old Elf.

Namely, Moon Dough.

Now, all of the smaller versions of Brammers that live here have a fascination with Play Doh. In fact, I'd call it more of a love affair. But, all of the mom versions of Brammers who live here have more of a love/hate relationship with that stuff. Well, more of a hate relationship I'd dare to say. It's great and all, but it gets left out. And then it dries up. And then when it gets thrown away there is much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth by the ones who didn't put it away in the first place. So, when we were shopping to replace our now rocks of Play Doh and saw the Moon Dough there with it's huge, sweeping, label stating "NEVER DRIES OUT!!" we thought a mighty miracle was about to come into our lives.

Little did we know that Moon Dough is actually of the devil. Here, let me show you.



The stuff has the consistency of really bad cotton candy. And It. Goes. EVERYWHERE!! Instead of saying "NEVER DRIES OUT!!" what it should really say is "THIS PRODUCT WILL NEVER DIE!" And then laugh. A really evil laugh that will make you cry and almost curse the day that you ever had children who need stuff to play with.


After getting all the mess cleaned up, I wondered to myself what Empire of Evil could have possible come up with the demon that is Moon Dough. And then on the label, right below the proclamation of "NEVER DRIES OUT!" I saw this:


And I heard an evil laugh, but this time with a swedish accent. It all makes sense now....

Robyn Michele And The Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I was going to write some long, morose post on why it's taken me so long to put anything up on the good ole blogeroo. You know, the "we're so busy", "things are crazy around here", "5 kids is super hard" post that all the kids are doing nowadays. But then I came across this in my archives. I wrote it, put the pictures in, and then ran out of time to just push the publish button. I think it explains a lot. Anywho, here's an oldie but goodie. I think it came about somewhere in July, which is the last memory I have before sleep deprivation turned me into an actual zombie.

I woke up to the computer screen looking like this.

Each one of those blue blurbs is a dictation for one tired, sleepless child. When I receives these files at night they take about 30 minutes each to complete. But when I receive them during the day, it takes a slightly longer amount of time. Instead of completing them like I'm driving on the freeway, I'm suddenly moving at the speed of a handcart company. Traveling through tar. Or as fast as the kids move when they are supposed to be putting on their shoes. After cleaning their rooms. S L O W L Y.

Here's why things go so slowly during the day. It starts off..

Patient name Harrison Bra

Stop to insert binkie.

Brammer. Date of birth March 1st 2003. Date of stud

Reinsert binkie.

study June 30, 2

Break up some fight between some kids who are mad because one is "thinking" something the other one doesn't want them to think.

2010. Referring physic

Reinsert binkie.

Physician, Dr. whatshisname. History: Harrison has a history of being super weird for the past

Pull a loose tooth. Seriously.

past 7 years. He began having symptoms of weirdness beginning

Find the child who is obviously rotting from the inside out and change the diaper. De-fumigate the house by lighting every single scented candle we have and opening all the windows. The hot air that comes in is way better than the stench that needs to go out.

a few days after his birth. Symptoms of weirdness include

Reinsert binkie and get up to make a bottle. Wrap baby up super tight and prop bottle. That's right. I'm a bottle propper. And I use a sweater that my Oma made to keep that bottle right where it should be. Oma would approve, I'm sure. Bottle propping can turn this..

Into this.

Now I can get more than 10 words typed in a row. Unfortunately the kids are off track. Usually I love having all of them around me. Usually does not include when I have more than a days worth of work to do. So, after interruption upon interruption I load them up with popsicles and other equally healthy snacks and send them (lock them) outside. Nice. I love you, outside.

I know. You're shocked and probably outraged. Go on, call the authorities. That's okay. Me and the authorities are Besties. The authorities have my number on speed dial 3, right after the fire department and their mom. The kids and the authorities have play dates at least twice a week. So, go on and call. They'll be expecting you.

I manage to get about 1/3 complete and when my hands move from achy to tingly to numb I decide that I need a break in the form of a shower. I beg, plead, and threaten the children with bodily harm to not open the door whilst I am showering, even if one of them bursts into flames, as this will wake the sleeping baby. So, instead I just get a lot of this.

Which surprisingly does not wake the sleeping baby. What does wake the sleeping baby, however, is the pure genius of the smoke detector placed just outside of the bathroom door. This brain trust goes off every time I take a shower with water temperatures even 1 degree hotter than room temperature. Ah, the builders at Centex. I'd love to meet you in person so I can punch you right in the face.

Yeah, yeah. More shock. More outrage. I refer you back to the previous authorities paragraph.

The rest of the day continues on this same course until I serve the crazed monkeys dinner in the form of 5 buck pizza promptly at 8:45 p.m. I survey the damage done to the house and decide to throw in the towel and head over to the 'Circle for ice cream cones. A balm that can heal all the day's wounds. I gather all my chickies into my bed for a movie and decide to tackle the rest of the work after they fall asleep. At least the day ended on a good note. I love these guys.

And sometimes after a day like today, I can't believe that they love me right back. It gets me every time. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

What If....

Hudson didn't have curly hair? He may look like this...

Or like this...

This might be nice....

Or my personal favorite, like this....

Thank heavens for those curls.

"He no rike it"

That torturous phase in babydome has reappeared in our house. It is now time for...

DUN DUN DUUUNNNN....

Solid foods.

I don't like the baby food stage. Never have. It's way too time consuming, what with the 3 days of this yuck before introducing a new yuck. Plus, they should make it with stain remover mixed right in the little jar. Seriously, that stuff doesn't wash out of anything. The goop is so gross I get all kinds of mommy guilt over shoving it into my little one's mouth. But, here we go again anyway.

I give you "Holden's first solids"!

Part 1 - The Excitement

Part 2 - The Confusion

Part 3 - The Realization

Part 4 - The Trauma

Part 5 - The Return

Part 6 - The Crying.

Part 7 and 8 - The Refusal

Hudson was my audience for this show. He sat next to me and with every gag and retch that Holden presented to us, Hudson got angrier and angrier. "Mommy! He no rike it!" he would say each time I put the spoon back to his brother's lips. I no rike it either. Solids are gross and stain everything, and mean that my baby is getting bigger. I no rike it one little bit.

The Breakfast Of Champions

When you need Bo to babysit your kids, and it involves breakfast, be warned that this is what you'll find when you come home.

Is it any wonder they are always asking "when is Bo going to have a sleep over?" Thanks for sugaring the kids up and then leaving, Bo.

The Duck Pond

I will venture out to Provo every now and then for only 2 reasons: the Bean Museum, and the duck pond. Oh, and a birthday dinner every now and then at the Brick Oven. I guess that makes 3 reasons. And on a day when the school is closed because it almost burned down (it was so close, darn it), and we are tired of just waiting to be evacuated, we decided that a picnic at the good old duck pond is a perfect reason to make the drive.

A picnic! Hooray! We are so excited!

At a park named after Harrison. Awesome, man. Rock on.

We climb trees to see the ducks from above...

... and keep our eyes on them from the path.

We have our trusty baby be the keeper of the picnic blanket. He can do that while sucking his thumb at the same time. I know. We have a genious on our hands.

Now, this duck pond runs a very distant second place to aunt Karen's back-duck-yard. But, to try to make up for the lack of Karen, this duck pond has the as-many-turtles-as-you-can-fit-on-a-log log.







And duck bums!









And more duck bums!






The End.

Bones Breaking, Pirate Teeth, and Blue Ribbons in Motherhood

The Young Men were having an activity at the park where they roll an enormous sheet of plastic down the hill, cover it with soap, and turn on the water. A king size slip and slide. Jeb decided to bring along Leah and Harrison for the ride. He also, unfortunately, decided to let other people come as well. This resulted in Leah's face colliding with another kid's head. She came home complaining that her teeth hurt. Me, as mother of the year, told her to put some ice on her mouth and she would be fine. Within a few days, her tooth began to discolor and I knew that it was more than just a "walk it off" injury. One of the short people in our house dubbed it her "pirate tooth".

A visit with the dentist confirmed it. Yup, it definitely hurts. He recommends doing a baby root canal to ease the swelling on the blood supply. I take her in first thing in the morning, she gets a shot in her patoot, goes limp, and they take her off to the back rooms. Once the dentist begins to work, her tooth crumbles. It was so filled with tiny cracks that it basically just disintegrates. Dr. Eric says to me over and over again "she had major trauma to her teeth" and "she suffered a really major blow to that tooth". Yeah for me! I told her to ice it! Super good advice. At least it was easy for Leah. I asked her what she remembered about her appointment. "I got a shot in my tushie. Then I picked a prize. And then... it was time to go home!" She doesn't remember the small detail of me pinning her down to get that shot. Thank heavens. We only have college funds set up for the kids. No future therapy funds - yet.





Exactly 3 days after that dentist visit, I get a call from Harrison at school. "I fell at recess and my hand really hurts" he said. I replied with "Bubba, you only have an hour left. Do you think you can stick it out?" It was just a fall while playing soccer, right? Nothing serious. Not even a band aid.


When he came home I put him to work doing his homework and chores, all the while he was complaining about his hand still hurting. Since we've met our maximum out of pocket for the year (which would be nice if it hadn't come at the expense of a hernia surgery, delivery of a baby, and 3, count 'em, 3 kidney stones) I figure we can send him in for an x-ray. Jeb takes him over to the ER where it's discovered that Harrison has broken his hand in 2 places. The nurses ask him "on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most painful thing you have ever felt, where is your pain at right now?" Harrison contemplates his answer for a minute, and then comes back with a response of "30". And I added another gold star to my awesome mom chart.





Don't you just love it when you get this mothering thing down? No, really, I'm asking because I have no idea how it feels to get this mothering thing down. Do you love it? I'm a superstar among mothers, I tell you what. Harrison is now in a cast for 6 weeks, and Leah has a new tooth. Supermom in action. I rock. Hopefully the state will call before they come to get the kids. That way I can pack for Harrison, what with his bum arm and all. It's the least I can do.