Happy happy

We had a really lovely Easter weekend around here. On Saturday we enjoyed two rain-free soccer games, which is an automatic win in April, then an evening with family from near and far. Sunday we enjoyed not one but two egg hunts and the bunny was very generous.

He was so giving that, before we had ever even headed out to church, Thomas was pawing through his haul with amazement.  After surveying the goods he said, "Dad! Look at all these many candies the Easter Bunny brought! We'll be sick when we eat all of this!"

I guess he's got the cause and effect concept nailed. Next week we'll work on how you can use that understanding to avert crisis.

Thomas Luke

DISCLAIMER...I've been writing this post for two weeks now. I haven't quite been able to find (dedicate?) the time to get a coherent paragraph put together. I'm suffering from a blogger's block. It's still not quite what I want it to be, and in the meantime life keeps flying by, so as I go back and edit last week's work, and the week before also, I think I've created a jumble of tenses and voices and I'm just going to let 'er rip anyway because hopefully someday Thomas will read this and know my intention and forgive the mistakes - both written and real.

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In mid-April five years ago, I was spending all my waking hours wishing to be asleep and wondering if my baby would ever stop crying. I wondered if I would ever understand this new child we had brought into the world. He was unhappy and obviously uncomfortable and was confusing to me. I vividly remember telling my mom, on a night when he was weeks old and Mark was out-of-town and I had called in tears just needing someone else to hold him and listen to him scream, that I loved him but wasn't one bit sure that I liked him.

That boy turned five a couple of weeks ago and somewhere along the way he has stolen my heart. He just goes around carrying the part of it that his brother hadn't already taken. He's subtle, though. He doesn't flaunt that he's got something that belongs to me, but I think he knows. Thanks goodness he generally tries to be careful with it.

That screaming baby just needed a little time, a lot of Prevacid, a tighter swaddle, bigger eustachian tubes and some understanding. His needs have actually not changed dramatically. It has just been an evolution.

While he no longer needs to be held upright for 30 minutes after each feeding, he is still a somewhat fragile ecosystem. His coughs go south with alarming speed and his allergies lead to headaches that are quite obviously real and those can wreck a day in a heartbeat. He's plagued by touchy lungs and sinuses, for which I'm sure he'll someday appropriately thank me. And yet, he's tougher for it all I believe. I think he's had some minor nagging pain or ache for most of his living days and as a result, he's kind of a tough little bugger. This is the boy who can be diagnosed with an ear infection about which he never complained and can swallow his prednisone without a chaser or a flinch, which is sad and endearing all at once. I love him for it.

He still needs, and freely gives, the human touch. He still likes for all 40-some inches of him to be carried and he still happily takes my hand each morning as we walk into his school. He hugs with reckless abandon and he's the only child in this house that will still back right into my lap to read a book. He often snuggles up next to me so stealthily that I don't notice it happening. I frequently am surprised to find that we are two people in a space designed for one and that I love it.







His worship for his brother is both heartwarming and heartbreaking, because occasionally it's not reciprocated in the way a mother bear would wish. He thinks that Andrew hung the moon and would admit it too. He has nicknames for him and holds him in highest esteem even when Andrew doesn't deserve it. It is definitely an unconditional love. More often than not, he chooses to be wherever Andrew is, which frequently means that he camps out outside Andrew's room, or even outside timeout, just to wait for his company. He's becoming better able to stand his ground, occasionally even with words instead of his fists, but he's still often willing to play second fiddle.

He is also often underestimated, by me and others I think. He doesn't typically demand to be the center of attention in this house full of first-borns and possesses a subtlety that some of us don't. I took him to the pediatrician for his five-year-well visit and the nurse asked us questions about his development and skills. When she asked if he could write the letters of the alphabet I proudly told her yes. Then she asked if he could write numbers. I tentatively responded by telling her that he knew them but couldn't write them.

"Yes, I can," he said quietly. She handed him a piece of paper and he did it. One through nine. Who knew? He did; that's often enough for him. This boy who trails around after his brother is simultaneously self-possessed in so many ways.

His imagination is a colorful place and he's pretty darn generous with it. His "boys,"as he refers to them, are part of our everyday lives. The fact that Rexy the smiling dinosaur and Heysnickle the little blue bear are stuffed animals is lost on him at this point. They're his constant companions and they give him bravery and hugs and even sometimes trouble at bedtime. Many nights I listen to him talk with them about the behavior he expects and he regales them with stories of his day. They sometimes share their hugs with us and he frequently thinks of things that he wants to tell them when we arrive home from any adventure. He's immune to the heat he takes from his brother about these two creatures and he's steadfast in his devotion to them. He's going to make a great friend down the road. 

 That imagination translates into some pretty great independent play as well. He can spend hours creating scenes with cars and blocks and toys and carry on several parts of a conversation, oblivious to anyone around him. I sometimes find myself just watching him, when I'm midway through cooking dinner or maybe a load of laundry, because his ability to suspend disbelief is so intact - and utterly delightul.

And yet, he's sometimes so grounded in reality. This is not a boy that dives right in. This is a boy who surveys a situation and typically gets the lay of the land before he makes any bold moves. He's as cautious that way as his brother is bold. He always gets warmed up but it sometimes takes a bit because he's got some soaking it all up to do. Don't ever think he's not paying attention, though. He is. He's a baffling mix of serious and silly that I sometimes can't accurately predict.

At home he frequently asks to color or draw or paint or "do crafts." At school they have to strongly encourage him to even pick-up a crayon some days. Go figure. If you ask him why he'll shrug and say, "I don't feel like it there." I think that's code for, "I like to keep you all guessing. Don't get too comfortable." He is also the best helper you could hope to have. Need someone to help cook? He's quick to grab a chair, race it across the floor, bang it into the cabinets and assume his perch. We're currently battling a little ant infestation and he is ALL OVER IT. He stomps them with his bare feet and hands and then carefully wipes up the tiny ant carcasses without being asked. He genuinely loves to make himself useful and he's surprisingly able.

He's a gentle soul that's sometimes overtaken by a rowdy boy, but at the end of each day, when he's safe in bed with his "boys" and he's hugged and kissed and hugged some more, he's simply sweet - in a way I never would have predicted five years ago. I have often thought that I knew Andrew better than he knew himself, almost from the moment he arrived. I still don't think that's true of Thomas. He continues to reveal himself to us.

In some ways five years goes slowly. There have been long nights and much illness and phases of little sleep and speech therapy and days of frustrating school behavior and reluctance to try new things to a degree that's caused gray hair. And, in all the cliche ways about which people warn you, five years has vaporized.

That screaming, colicky baby is a boy. He's stretching into a lean and lanky kindergartner and has developed a sense of humor that's beyond entertaining. He is coordinated and he's a story teller and he's so very Thomas all the time. He is not perfect, but he is perfect for this family and he is good for me in a way I didn't know I needed until he arrived.

I forgive him for stealing my heart and I'm going to let him keep it.

The lowdown

My wonderful brother-in-law told me that he can't wait to read the blog posts that will summarize the last week of our collective lives. He told me this while the kids zipped through the kitchen at top speed over and over and over. Apparently he believes I'm going to recap our Spring Break vacation to California in a way that will amuse him. 

I would hazard a guess that he thinks I'm going to write about how wet and chilly it was in Southern California during our visit and that I'm going to tell all about each of our families losing days of carefree fun to sick children. He probably also thinks I'm going to bitch about how I was discriminated against because I'm a girl I live in Kansas, and I wasn't allowed to drive a car to the grocery store without a chaperone. (I'm not bitter about that. I know it was because of all that aforementioned rain.)  He has probably even predicted I'll tell you that we learned the hard way that the Griffith Observatory isn't open on Mondays and that Legoland isn't open on Tuesdays. 

That all happened, but in the 48 hours we've been home, those aren't the memories that really jump out to me.

Room for everyone on the swingset

Instead, I'm going to show you how much fun six kids can have in a backyard that's equipped with a tree and a swingset.  I'm so terribly biased, but these are great kids and they have great fun together. With each visit, they pick up right where they left off the time before.

Jump Rope!

Zac and Andrew in a tree. I don't think they're supposed to be up
that high, but all's well that ends well.

I would be remiss not to mention that roller skating is a very good rainy day activity and I can report that it's kind of like riding a bike.  Though it had been at least 25 years, it all came back to us adults quickly.  I should also document that four kids had four different styles of learning to skate and they all worked, though the styles of the two youngest resulted in sore shoulders and elbows for their parents.  For them, skating was a contact sport.

I will also tell you that while Griffith Observatory is indeed closed on Mondays, the drive there is worth the trip and walking around the grounds and capturing the views offered of the Hollywood hills, downtown LA, the Pacific Ocean and the famed HOLLYWOOD sign were all great fun. Having the Train Museum in the park all to ourselves was fun too. Not many people braved the tempermental elements that day and the kids had the run of the place. We even had our own private tram driver.

Griffith Park Outlook.  If you look carefully you can see the
Hollywood sign iin the background.

Deserted train park

I can confirm that while it seems very strange for a theme park to be closed two days a week, after two checks of Legoland's website, we had no choice but to believe it. My genius sister-in-law knew we needed to step up with a really good substitute and Disney's California Adventure did the trick. Upon entering, we wondered if California Adventure was another bust for the trip, but it turns out it's a total win if you just give it time.

The Bugs' Life train ride. Exhilirating it was not.

Zac on the Bugs' Life bumper cars. We were starting to get somewhere now.

On the Disney Midway

Andrew, Zac, Mark & Eric rode this rollercoaster. When did they grow old
enough to do this?!

What Maria, Claire, Thomas and I did while the boys rode the rollercoaster.

The kids had a blast and while I won't speak for anyone else, I did too.

I'm also going to show you that a well-stocked costume trunk can provide hours of fun - both for the kids wearing the costumes and the adults being entertained by them.

No shame.

Rides in the Model A are also always entertaining. Butch and I spent what must have been 90 minutes driving around Claremont rotating who got to sit in the back and who had to sit on my lap so that everyone had a fair turn.  We also throroughly embarrassed Zac by going to pick him up from school like this!

The coveted rumble seat.

So, while Eric thought I was going to remember total chaos as four, five or sometimes even six kids shrieked and ran and yelled and wrote on each other with markers and shrieked and played, he's wrong. I remember that it's a gift for these kids to play together, for hours on end, so well and for them to wake up each morning asking when we're starting the day's adventures together. I'm also going to remember a lot of good food consumed and oodles of good company.

I will remember that it's a good idea to check ahead for operating hours, but if they don't work with your operating hours, Plan B will probably be just as good. And, I will also remember how lovely it is to spend a week at Casa Henderson where food is prepared on your behalf and the trash cans are always empty, without my having to lift a finger. Thank you!

Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery

I owe this blog a post about our recent trip to California, but while I struggle to amass the right pictures in the right folders, allow me to borrow this video from my sister-in-law's blog.  It's a pretty good summation of the total hilarity and chaos that reigns when nine first-borns/oldest/only children are assembled in one family.

The Tuckers own a Wii game called, "Just Dance" and it's a total hoot. After all the kids had taken turns and even Aunt Susan and Aunt Maria had cut a rug, they decided it was time for Uncle Mark and Uncle Eric to show us what they had. 

As you can see, no one can resist the lure of shaking what you got. Click here to see some funny stuff.

Sleep tight

The boys and I spent some time outside on this beautiful March afternoon. Andrew insisted on playing in the front yard because he wanted to climb the trees. They can't play in the front yard without my being outside with them and I hedged at first; I have lots of laundry to do. Thank goodness I relented. I would have missed this if they had been in the backyard. 

The video quality is poor and unedited, but it's such a great glimpse into how they roll that I'm posting it anyway. Andrew swung himself up into that tree dozens of times, kind of like a leaping monkey, and Thomas?  Thomas was practicing his football footwork.  He's watched too much of the recent NFL combine agility testing with Dad on television.

 

You would think they would be tired at bedtime, no?