Bucket-O-Pancakes

It really is just the little things that point out the difference between having 3 kids and 7 kids. This morning I started my day off by handing out a bucket of pancakes.  Literally a bucket.  Three each, and I handed them out in the car--not a car, exactly, but a 15 passenger van that our wonderful church is letting us borrow.

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Picture, if you will, a large old blue church van, the kind with steps to climb in.  I have the kids sit on the porch and load them up one at a time. That means I go and unlock the van, open the doors, call out for Frankie to come to the van, help her in get her in her seat and then get down from the van.  Then I call out for Hazel to get into the van, help her in, get her into her seat and then get down from the van.  I then get down from the van call for R-7, help her into the seat, and then get down from the van.  I then call for the 4 older ones to get in the van.  This usually involves me yelling "Stop pushing!  We are all going to the same place!" and "We will all get there at the same time even if you get into the van first," and "I can't for the life of me figure out why you are pushing, you have assigned seats, for goodness sakes."  These comments are  always directed at the same two kids.  Next, I yell, "Hurry up, please, we have places to be." This is always directed at the same two children.  I then say "Thank you, good job, let's get going," and I shut the doors, take a deep breath.  Only then do I realize that even though they are all sitting in the van with their cute clean clothes, nicely brushed hair and teeth, back packs and lunchboxes packed with healthy food, that I was in such a rush that I forgot to feed them breakfast.  I didn't forget to make breakfast--it is sitting in the oven--I just forgot to GIVE it to them.  I open the doors and yell that I am running inside, run to the door, ask my loving wife to go stand with them by the van as I get on oven mitts and reach into the oven and pull out a large amount of oatmeal-whole wheat pancakes that I made the night before so that the kids would have a nice homemade and healthy breakfast.  I run back out to the van with the bucket-o-pancakes in my oven-mitt hand and climb back into the van.  I then frisbee toss the pancakes out to my 7 children.  Like a dealer dealing out cards they fly threw the air. One to Daniel, one to John, one to Ashlyn, one to Mati, one to R-7, one to Hazel, and one to Frankie until they each have three.  I then say, "Everyone happy?  Let's roll!"  Hop out of the van, hand the "bucket" off to my wife,  pick my coffee mug up off the sidewalk, walk around to the driver's side, put my coffee mug on the floor of the van so that I can pull myself into the van (the driver's side only has one step so you have to kind throw yourself in).  Buckle up, adjust my mirrors, pick up my coffee, say a quick "Thank you, God" prayer and then pull my blessed borrowed van with the name of our wonderful church on the side out onto the road.

Birthday Tradions

 I was asked yesterday to post about some of our family traditions.  As yesterday was R-7's birthday and the twins have their birthday next week, I guess I will share about birthdays. 

My wife comes from one of those CRAZY about birthday families.  You know, where the week leading up to the birthday is all about the upcoming day, and the day itself is all about the birthday person, and the week after is all about reliving and recovering from the birthday.  The birthday person dictates how the entire day (or sometimes week) goes and they get a lot of presents. 

As for me . . . I come from a family where birthdays are often forgotten.  One year my dad sent me a card every month wishing me a happy birthday, trying to figure out when the real day was.  He eventually got it right (he was bound to), but in later years would still forget the day entirely.  (I should give him credit for trying, and he has since has found a wife who keeps track of these things.  I should also mention that I have a HORRIBLE balloon phobia.)  So much that even writing the word "balloon" makes my hand shake and I want to throw-up.  I don't know why (and, believe me, everyone asks).  I have theories which I will make into a separate blog post some day.  You can guess that I am not a birthday person.  You can also imagine my surprise the first year we where together and I got a day of everything I wanted plus presents not only from my wife but her parents and her GRANDMOTHER!  Really, her grandmother sent me a present, a card, and money!

How do we celebrate our kids' birthdays, then?   We have opted out of big parties!  YEAH!!!  Instead we have a family party.  (Which is, by definition, a big party.)  The birthday person picks the meals for the day and what kind of cake they want.  They get presents from grandparents.  We do not give presents but instead we bring the birthday child out on their own, and sometimes that involves buying them something special.  But we are trying to focus more on experiences--not only spending time with only that kid, but doing something with that child that might not be so easy to do with all 6 siblings along. I wonder if when they look back they will wish they had the large friend parties and throw their own kids elaborate parties and buy them a ton of balloons, or if they will remeber the special things they did with us.  I can tell you that I love the time alone with them and hope I am always able to know them well enough that I can give them an experience they will enjoy.

Some of the experiences we have had include:
*Shopping spree at Nordstroms
*Tea party at local tea room
*Flight Musuem
*Laser Tag and arcade games
*Dinner out at favorite restaurant and movie

How to Cook a Child

Just finished prepping a brisket for a BBQ I am going to tomorrow.  I threw together a rub and made a homemade BBQ sauce. As I was digging through the spice drawer it dawned on me I cook just like I parent.  I know how to make BBQ sauce (kind of)--I at least know some common ingredients and I know what not to put in it.  So I gather all the ingredients and I start mixing things together. I start with what I think I need the most of then I add things one at a time adding less and less as I go.  After I put everything into it that I think it needs then I sit back and watch it cook.  After it cooks for awhile I start doing taste tests, and I add more of what I think it needs.  Sometimes  I REALLY mess up and it does not taste good at all.  This has happened to me a couple of times with BBQ sauce.  A few times it has been way to acidic.  But I have never thrown it out.  One time I was able to fix it by adding more of something else, and once it was so bad that I couldn't use it for sauce but it was great for braising.  The one I used for braising ended up being my BEST brisket ever. Once the brisket is in the oven, I leave it alone.  It slow cooks so pretty much leave it and let it do its thing. 

But, despite all of my mixing and taste testing, I really can't ruin the brisket.   The main ingredient is the beef itself and I have little control over that.  It is what it is.  As long as I don't do anything to harm it, the brisket is going to be fine.  When we only had one child I wasn't able to parent this way.  I thought that every thing I did or didn't do either saved or ruined my kid.  I thought his accomplishments were because I was a good parent and I thought that his challenges would go away if I just read the right book, or had the right formula. The truth is I have no control over his challenges, I can't get rid of them, all I can do is add something to help him deal with them.  I am not saying you can't really screw things up, because you can.  What I am saying is that if you have the right ingredients, things will turn out fine. As long as you continue to put good things into it and keep an eye on it adjusting the recipe as you go it will turn out wonderful (or at least be edible.)

My Amazing Daughter (May she never lose her spunk)

 Ashlyn (#3) got her hair cut again, this time into a cute little pixie cut, but  for those of you that missed the last cut here is a recap.

The Mohawk

 Me- Ash why do you want a mohawk.

Ash's answer-Because they look good and none of you have one

Ash-Look, she has one and she is beautiful.
Me- you are beautiful.

 Ash- Matilda doesn't want one. Everyone looks at you when you have a mohawk.

Me- everyone already looks at us, Ash; we take up the whole salon.

Ash- I want them to look at ME.

 

 

Ash-I look awesome and that kid is looking at me because I think he wants one and his mom said no.

So 3 of 7 got a mohawk and she looks beautiful as always.

Ash- that girl walking by just stopped and gave me the thumbs up.

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Ashlyn (aka 3 of 6) Me- Ash why do you want a mohawk. Ash's answer-Because they look good and non of you guys have them.

-1+1 we no longer fit in a mini van

So we got the call. We pick up *Baby R* today at 4:30.  She is no longer a baby, but since she isn't my forever kid I can't call her by her name so I will from here on out call her R-7.  So R-7 is coming to live with us again.  We no longer fit into a mini van and need to figure out how we are going to purchase a passenger van.  Oprah?  Anyone out there what to give a handout to two unexpected mothers of 7?  Wait that only happens to people who use fertility drugs.

How many children did the little old lady who lived in a shoe have?

WELCOME BACK HOME R-7! We are so blessed to have you back with us.