Just so you know, there will be no pictures

Well, helllllllllllo, nobody.

I am typing this from the computer located in the drum room. This room also houses my crafty equipment and Kris' audio whateverwhatever but that's beside the point. The window in this room looks out into our backyard containing a lovely deck, an empty garden bed, and an unbelievably overgrown-with-too-spicy-too-eat-lettuce garden bed. But the lettuce is pretty and green and seems to not really care that it froze last night. I suppose spicy lettuce is the best kind to be--resilient and unpalatable. No wonder it grew so well here.

But the drums. I don't actually mind them. With the door closed, it really isn't as grating as one might think. And they are usually trying to play a certain rhythm so even though they are beginners, they are at least thoughtful beginners. That is the best kind to be. Little Simeon (Simmy Shake, Sim-sam, simarooboo, Simmy Jimmy) is not quite as intentional but I can only hope that starting at 18 months will work in my favor. Eventually.

The Brothers Rives are doing well. Asher is ALMOST FIVE. If you have talked to him at all, you no doubt have been informed of this. He is the child whom, at present, challenges me the most. His natural tendencies are almost always not mine so I am frequently presented with an opportunity to lay aside how I think he should do/handle/process/embrace/respond to any given situation and really think about what he needs. He is sensitive and slow to decide and thoughtful. So I am learning to approach him as he is. Not leave him at the mercy of his sin, but not expect him to be someone he isn't. Namely, Jamie Rives.

He has developed quite the vocabulary now that he is reading. He uses words well, but now the challenge is to introduce the concept of a filter. At the park a few weeks ago he asked a little boy, "How smart do you think you are?" The boy replied, "very smart!." Asher said, "Well, I think you are baby-smart because you are not playing very wisely." He recounted this conversation to me later and I told him that, while I admired his word choice, it probably was not his place to comment on the choices of a total stranger.

Jude. For starters, he has considerably less hair now thanks to an unfortunate incident involving a misunderstanding between me and the clippers. He has taken it all in stride and he still looks adorable, but I miss that beautiful, long, thick sandy brown hair with gorgeous blond highlights. Thank God I have all boys because between their hair and my own, I have all that I can handle in the hair care department.

He is his own man. He knows what he wants. He's not much of a cuddler. Doesn't really give a rip. THIS I can relate to. Don't get me wrong, he can send my head spinning as much as Asher, but usually for the opposite reason.

And Simmy. First of all, any thoughts I had about cutting his hair have disappeared completely. Those precious curls are not going anywhere anytime soon. He is talking so much more--well, communicating so much more, let's say. My favorites are "Asha" and "Tude." Mama, Daddy, Pa (Poppy), Maw (Mamaw), car, ball, kie (cookie), cacka, muh (catchall word for drink. Includes but not limited to milk, water, juice.) his favorite word is of course, "no." He is learning, in a rather slow and painful way, that saying to his parents is not acceptable and not the proper response to "obey quickly."

2012 has been nice so far. We have eliminated most of the TV watching that went on here and the effects have been very pleasing. They play more, they read more, I read more, I get more done. I feel like I use the TV now instead of it using us. They watch one show a day now, sometimes two if I need the time to do something, but it is no longer our default entertainment choice or babysitter. So we dropped cable and resubscribed to Netflix and it seems to have been the right time for that change. I really resisted the idea for a long time, but now that we have all adjusted, I'm glad we just did it.

My new year's resolution...

will NOT be to blog more. That would be so 2009 of me. But life is going so fast now that I am in my late early thirties. I'm going to try to capture just a bit of our life and make it stand still in this blog. I mean, my newborn is 2 1/2. THAT is absurd.

I also want to blog more about issues that matter to me during December. I have a few posts rolling around in my head tentatively titled "My Santa Manifesta: You Do Know Where Liars Go, Right?" and "Every Day is Christmas If You Live in America, You Fat, Ungrateful Slob." I'd hate for you all to think I've gone completely holly jolly. I have my limits.

My shopping is almost done. We have found the four gift model of "something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read" to be a great fit for us, so all of four my guys have a little something from each category ready to go under the tree. I would place them under the tree now, but hello--Simeon.

I'm wrapping up a great first season with Noonday Collection. I have learned a lot! I'm looking forward to starting the spring season with a better grasp on everything but I'm really pleased with and grateful for how things have gone. (By the way, delivery by Christmas is guaranteed until the 16th if you need a few AMAZING gifts for loved ones. Or yourself. No judgement here.)

Asher threw up last night. No fever, no chills, just puke. So I drug out the "sick mattress" (a baby bed mattress we keep under the bunk beds for the ill among us to lay on. It's vinyl.) I was just waiting for the next wave to hit. Jude was still awake for some unknown reason (it was about 10:30.) He was wired and kept commenting on how he always manages to make it to the toilet when he needs to throw up and how Asher is kind of a baby in that regard. I had to agree. One of the best things about Jude is that boy holds it until he is standing over the potty. That in itself covers a multitude of sins.

So Asher is awake, Jude is awake, and I'm incredibly sleepy because I had just taken a benedryl for my horrific allergy attack. We all finally dozed off in the living room and then sometime in the middle of the night, Simeon wakes me up. Not for any good reason. Just because. I'm so groggy at this point, I don't recall what happened after that. All I know is that Kris woke me up around 6 and told me to go get in bed and all 3 boys were laying on the floor near me. Around 8, I woke up with the eldest and the youngest in bed next to me. Sleep in heavenly peace, we did not. But no one has thrown up again at the time of this writing. That, my friends, is a Christmas miracle.

Jude prays tonight:
Thank you for all the fings. Thank you for da wunerful day. Thank you for da cross. Thank you for all da promises. In Jesus name, Amen!

Asher prays for "the whole United States of America, even Alabama."

Simeon looks blankly at me as I say a prayer for him to "repeat" until I mention Mamaw and Poppy, which causes him to start barking so I won't forget to give thanks for their dogs, too.

Sometimes their prayers are so precious, I think my heart might break right there. Sometimes, after the 8th or 9th train from the island of Sodor is mentioned, I want to shut it down and tell everyone to just go to sleep.

We got a Christmas tree this weekend. Today, we added lights, 24 plastic balls, and this little gem


It's my favorite.

I sold this toy. It has been a favorite around here for almost 4 years. I bought it off Craig's list for Asher's first birthday.


But it had to go. And I got my $20 back.

My kid can read almost all the words on the "100 Words to know by first grade" list. I'm thrilled!

This little thing just hit the 17 month mark. He's a curly-headed force to be reckoned with.

Thanksgiving 2011

We watched the parade and attempted to teach the boys how to play checkers.

We went to the park and challenged each other to feats of strength.

We ate a lunch consisting if salad, hot dogs, quinoa, leftover chili, and yogurt because of course I had not been to the grocery store.

The boys took naps. Kris worked on his sermon for Sunday. I watched the new Will Ferrell movie.

We got ready and went to Grammy's house in Friendswood. Jude ate nothing. Asher ate a little real food and a generous serving of pie. Simeon almost everything set before him. And pie.

On our way home, we gave the Hispanic Fran Drescher and her fraternal twin sister a ride to her in laws house after stopping to see if they needed help with their flat tire. She was on the phone the whole way and informed everyone she was in her way to her ( insert FCC-banned slur for black people here)'s house. I am thankful we could help them and also that we will be able to say to each other, "remember the thanksgiving that we have the Hispanic Fran Drescher and her fraternal twin sister a ride...?"

We watched the end of The Game and then about 10 more minutes of a movie we started at the beginning of the week. We keep falling asleep.

Yes, the blog as I knew it has been tweaked slightly, but I feel WYPW is a staple that should not be kicked to the curb along with my old header. And blog name. And dignity.

So, even though nobody reads my blog anyway, I will continue this tradition. Because I'm SO big on those.

Which, incidentally, leads me to my point, believe it or not. Didn't leave that question dangling out there for long, now did I?

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. President Washington held the first "official" one during his first year in office. A "Day of Publick Thanksgiving and Prayer" he called it, no less. It was a tradition celebrated by most colonies already but this was a first as a nation. And then President Lincoln made it an official holiday to be celebrated the fourth Thursday in November. And then President Roosevelt moved it to the third Thursday. Because that would extend the holiday shopping season. Publick Thanksgiving and Prayer indeed. His best to the Pilgrims, no doubt.

Of course John Piper, on Facebook, has to throw down the gauntlet with this reminder of the very words of Jesus,

"Whenever you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers, or your relatives or your rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return and it be a repayment for you. But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. For it will be repaid to you in the resurrection of the just." (Luke 14:12–14)

Jesus really said those words. Why have I never put that in the context of our Thanksgiving meal before?

So if it's not a day of public thanksgiving and prayer (I've never publicly done either on this day) and it's not a feast to which I invite those that could never repay, what is it? My holiday angst. I don't get like this around Halloween. It's all so straightforward (unless you consider the slave labor chocolate issue.) But I struggle (no, not "struggle." That implies much more passion than is really involved.) I brood the issue (over pumpkin pie of course) from now until Easter.

I think I'm thankful. I say "thank you" a lot. Does that count? In prayers. In conversations. I try to express gratitude because I really do see that what I get to partake in are undeserved, yea, ill-deserved, blessings that I absolutely would be lost without. And I know God is the Giver. And I happen to really like a large portion of what he has given and the things I happen not to be so fond of really pale in comparison so thankfulness, while labored at times, is pretty easy to produce. Of course, I've never set sail for a foreign land, watched most of my co-Pilgrims die, struggle through brutal winters, and then come through it all with food and shelter and faith so it's hard to say, really.

We've been teaching the boys "For the Beauty of the Earth" and "We Gather Together." Because they are terribly Thanksgivingy hymns and it just seems appropriate. I really like them both but the words of "We Gather Together" are particularly encouraging.

We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing;
He chastens and hastens His will to make known;
The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing;
Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own.

Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining,
Ordaining, maintaining His kingdom divine;
So from the beginning the fight we were winning;
Thou, Lord, were at our side, all glory be Thine!

We all do extol Thee, Thou Leader triumphant,
And pray that Thou still our Defender will be;
Let Thy congregation escape tribulation;
Thy Name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!

It's Good For the Soul

That's what they say anyway. Ooohh...confessions as the first post under my new banner. This might just get interesting. (Probably not.)

I spend way too much time thinking about what I'm going to wear. I'm a 32 year old mom of 3 that drives a minivan for the love of God. But I do. And I'll tell you why. I felt out of place and out of style for a lot of my life. And now, I know what I like and I know what I don't and I lost a lot of baby weight. So getting dressed is kind of fun. But I wish I cared less. It can't be the best use of time. Or brain space. Or soul space. Damn that Ann Taylor and her loft.

I take lame self-portraits. I do. There I said it. I try to get that "I just happen to have this picture of just me where I look AMAZING that someone took without my knowledge and then emailed it to me" look. Then I crop and filter the heck out of it and it still doesn't look how I wish it did.

I hate most pictures of me. But I do love my new necklace. That thing is pure awesome.


I have sewn very few things in the sewing room that I just had to have. A shark costume, (Shark with cute ballerina Meadow)

a pair of pajama pants (ok, I didn't really sew those. I took them in because they were XL ones that I bought from Goodwill and I needed a better fit. See above.) I altered a dress that I've had in my closet for years but hardly ever wore because it hit my legs to low. In a flash of what can only be described as epiphinic, I hemmed it. Problem solved. We went through a lot to make this room possible. We have all of our children crammed into one room so that I can craft and Kris can record. Seems like I should have more to justify overhauling our whole lives. Alas.

It took me 3 months to finish Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Everyone told me it was the one that would seal the deal for me as a HP fan and there would be no looking back. Well. Let me tell you. It did drag on so. Because I have this thing in my head that compels me to have a different experience than the one I am expected to have--even when I would be perfectly fine having the expected experience. (It's not you, Laura, it's me. Assuming you are reading this. Probably not. No one does.) It's so irritating being me. I get on my own nerves most of the time. What are we talking about? Yes, Harry. I did finish and am planning on borrowing Book 5 from Cheryl when I see her tomorrow. I'm in this far so I might as well.

Tonight as we were finishing dinner, I told Jude that he must eat all his hamburger patty. Not because I am worried about his iron level or growth but because I buy our meat from a co-op and it's expensive. Jude told me, "I did eat it." "No," said I, "there is still meat on your plate." He picked the small uneaten piece up and held it in his fist. "No there isn't, " he said smugly. Jude comes up with these little retorts often which prompts Kris to cast his raised-eyebrow glance toward me and make some veiled accusation about exactly where this propensity Jude has for sass may or may not come from. It was funny. I try really hard (most of the time) to let their need for discipline take precedence over my desire to just laugh off the wrong, but occasionally humorous, behavior. Except this time I didn't. We'll hit that "no back talk" thing hard tomorrow.

Normally, I would be worried about being perceived as a vain, lazy, pitiful excuse for a parent after a post like this. But I'm not now. Nobody reads my blog anyway.

I'm a firm believer in stopping what you are doing immediately if you find that it is not working. In 2006, I opened up blogger at my computer at school when I probably should have been teaching students and decided to start a blog entitled "Grace Upon Grace." (In my defense, it was the week before school let out. My grades were turned in. I guess maybe some teachers cared enough to use every moment for instruction. I did not. To say the least.)

Here I have recorded our lives (more or less.) But I've struggled more and more to write consistently. I think because I felt like this blog had to be this or that type of blog. And I had to write about this. And I couldn't write about that.

But no more! Because nobody reads this blog anyway! I'm writing for myself. I like to write, yet I've neglected this outlet because of self-imposed restrictions. So with the exception of a few good friends and my mother (whom I mean no disrespect to, of course,) I am moving forward under the assumption that nobody reads this blog anyway. Goodbye stat counter and map. So long trying to make my mark on the blogosphere or trying to be a faithful family journaler. I'll still post about the kids and try to mention things that 80 year old Jamie will enjoy reading when 53 year old Asher, 52 year old Jude, and 51 year old Simeon never call or write. Hopefully 85 year old Kris will be next to me reminding me not to be too hard on them, because that's what he does. And I'll rant and observe and editorialize I'm sure. Who knows! It's just me, a computer, and my words now. I will write whatever I want.

Because nobody reads my blog anyway.

Summer 2011

Just to ensure the gaps in my blogging are somewhat filled in, I thought I'd go through my phone pictures and post a few from the last few months. My life is both fascinating and amazing so not to include even the most mundane details seems unfair to you all. Please enjoy.

I fell in love with Pinterest and became determined to actually do some of the projects I pinned. Thank goodness for the filters on Instagram because they made these cake balls look way more vibrant than they were in real life. Incidentally, I found cake balls to be way more trouble than they're worth.







My Wimberly girls and I went to one of those painting places (at my suggestion, it must be noted.) Laura and Cheryl's turned out beautifully. My painting was disastrous. I call it "The coffee filter wore panties."






No more painting.

We saw The Civil Wars!







Favorite band ever. It was absolutely the best concert I've ever been to. The Mucky Duck was the perfect venue and I'm so glad we had the chance to see them (and be those nerds that hang around for a picture) because I'm sure next time they're in town, it will be in a huge venue and as much as it pains me to admit, John Paul and Joy will probably not remember me and make a special request for me to join them backstage.

Laura and I trying not to look too giddy about our night as cool urban concert goers.





Little did everyone around us know we were wiping bottoms and cutting up PB and J sandwiches mere hours before.

Simeon turned 1.







Thank goodness for a brother that does not force you to eat your cake alone.

Jude turned 3.







He had a shark party with a few of his little friends here and then a Thomas party (duh) with family at my parents' house. I intend to blog more fully about these special occasions but in case I don't, at least I mentioned it in passing, right?

I finally got all three boys pictures on the wall.






Two of these frames were purchased in 2006 with the express intention of hanging future children's pictures in them. By the time I got them on the wall, I had to go back for one more frame.


I ran a race. The look on my face says it all.







Actually, I look a little more joyful and relaxed here than I was. Ugh. That race. Moving on.

The boys spent a lot of time on Mamaw and Poppy's "sliding down pool" as it has been named by it's primary users.







I caved and let the boys use the face painting crayons at the children's museum.






Simmy got a haircut! No more George Washington, Patti. He's all business now.







Those spots on the carpet behind him are hair. I was so desperate to finish, I drug his high chair to the living room so he could see the tv. It actually required two more venue changes to complete the job. It was like giving a cat a bath. But less peaceful.

Wow. Ok, I've shocked even myself. I better stop before I pull something.

This Will Be About Vomit

One thing having several small children has taught me is that when one gets sick, I should just go ahead and prepare myself mentally that they all will get sick.
And I probably will too. Particularly if it is of the stomach bug variety.

Asher and Simeon both got sick Wednesday night. It was Simmy's first official vomit. Very special. Simeon didn't ever act like he felt badly but Asher ran fever and was pretty out of it Thursday. Friday morning, Simeon had one final puke, Asher was feeling good, and I was just starting to think that Jude may slide by unscathed.

But that afternoon, I started feeling nauseous. Kris came home to me on the floor in the fetal position with the kids playing around me. We like to kick off Labor Day weekend right.

Kris took over as I dealt with my issues and a few hours later, Jude joined the ranks. Poor little fella had the worst go of it of all of us. He was vomiting all night long. Superdad Kris slept on the floor by him and carried him to the bathroom when he needed to throw up. I was so weak that I could barely stand.

But today, I am pleased to tell you, has been vomit-free. We all feel tremendously better and if we make it until tomorrow morning with no incidents, I am declaring September Sickfest over.

Kris is running sound tonight and in the morning and he is preaching tomorrow night. He feels fine so far but prayers for his health and strength would be much appreciated!

I Never Did Care for the Metric System

Kilometers. Ten of them.

Honestly, it wasn't that great. I was hot and tired. I hadn't eaten very much the day before which in retrospect was quite the unfortunate oversight. I felt oddly stressed out by the whole ordeal. Obviously, this was not a big deal. A local race. My first race at that. Why would I have any expectations other than just completing it.

But now that I have entered this whole running world, I have one more area to place unrealistic expectations on myself and then more evidence that I'm really not athletic.

See I told you so.

Jr. high volleyball was my first clue. High school tennis was another one. I could go on. Fighting the very genes that make you is exhausting. I'm "be just OK enough to participate but never quite rock it out" Girl.

Where's my cape?

Which then propels me to continue to embark on that challenge just to prove that I'm not as pathetic as I first thought. So the whole thing becomes, not about enjoying the run and being healthy, but about engaging in this weird inner-dialogue in which I simultaneously berate and encourage myself. I have these two needs that seem to be mutually exclusive, yet somehow cohabitate within my head. I need to beat myself down with jeering insults and then I need to prove to myself that I'm really not what I told myself I was. I think healthy people just deal with these things when they present themselves via other people. I just save other people the trouble.

All this to say, I have to run another dadgum 10K. I've entered in to this tolerate/hate realtionship with running and now I can't quit it. I should have seen this coming. I knew better.

On the upside, I did burn 1255 calories. So there's that.

WYPW (Edition: Happy Thursday!)

I'm running my first race this weekend. I'm still not convinced this is my thing. There are things that I really do love about running. The challenge. The time alone. The fact that all you have to do is walk out your door and you're there. But I've realized that I do need some sort of goal to work towards. But that requires commitment which I do not generally enjoy (the Lord and Kris being the notable exceptions.) And if I commit to another race in a few months that means that the race will occur when it is cold. And the chances of me going outside for extended periods of time while it is cold to train are not good. I know, I know--you warm up quickly but (and this is the part where I realize I have officially become my mother) I HATE being cold. Even really-not-that-cold-compared-to-Maryland-or-Minnesota-cold cold. So that is my dilemma. But maybe I'll love the race experience and I'll be hooked and I won't care if I have to be cold for a little while. I'll let you know.

Let's hear it for school starting! This means that the library, zoo, children's museum, and Chick-fil-a are back to being either way less crowded or crowded with people all about the size of my own children. I like this. While we miss Kris terribly now that he is back at work, we are soothing that pain with outings that do not involve crowds.

I think we are going to begin a modified pre-K/K program here at The Rives School for Higher Learning. Asher, in true firstborn fashion, is ready. He reads pretty well, he writes his name and can figure out how to spell a lot of words, and he is getting a handle on number concepts so I really need to take advantage of his eagerness. I ordered a kindergarten curriculum set a while back that is based on the classical model and I think it will be fairly easy to adapt it for this year. He is only 4 so I don't feel like we need to have an overly structured school day just yet but there is nothing like that youthful zeal to learn!

Do you know about Noonday Collection? There is a very good chance that I will have the opportunity soon to be involved with this amazing organization, Lord willing. I am so supportive of this business-model which the Sseko founder refers to as "not(just)for profit." In this model, businesses are not forced to "pick a side"--either exist to help people and do good OR exist to make money and grow. Noonday Collection, and many businesses like it, embrace the idea that BOTH are possible and preferable! I love it. It's encouraging to see how it is growing and the opportunities it presents to women all over the world.

And now, I will go rescue the pterydactel that is screeching in the other room. Or it might just be Simeon letting me know he is not napping this morning. I'll report back and let you know.

Photo Sin Thesis

Nowadays, everything must be photographed. Did you hear me? Everything. Especially once you have children. And I don't just mean the milestones--birthdays, first haircuts, opening Christmas presents--I mean, everything. Or else it might as well have never happened at all.

And then (get this,) there are some people who not only do this but then they take those pictures and they EDIT them and make the moment even less like it really was, therefore much more worth remembering. And THEN (don't even get me to lying,) some people take these EDITED photos and glue them to fancy paper and arrange them just so and adhere sparkly stickers to the page and type some endearing quote in some cutesy font and place all this nonsense in a scrapbook.

And not a few of these pictures are taken with a camera that costs more than my car.

And let's not forget to put all these edited pictures on the bloody blog, k?

I am the absolute worst when it comes to taking pictures. I comfort myself often with the thought that we will not take our photos with us to heaven so even if I regret not being a more diligent pictorial historian, at least my sorrow will be not longer than my life. I may or may not have issues.

Thankfully, many people in my life DO have awesome cameras and the desire to use them. So photos of my children's important events do have a good chance of being captured. For example, two of my sisters-in-law have fancypants cameras and Simeon's first birthday pictures are currently on one of their memory cards. This makes me feel better but it has kept me from blogging since then because who blogs about other stuff before blogging about their baby's first birthday? The better option seemed to be to allow the blog to lay dormant for lo, these many months while countless other details of our daily lives go undocumented. My mind is like a silo for logic.

Go and sin no more? I wish. I doubt I'll change. You'll see me (sometimes) get a pic or two on the ol' iPhone, maybe the point-and-shoot if I'm have an exceptional day. I just can't take the pressure of more. My photography skills are sorely lacking. My uploading, editing, and posting skills even more so. So I'm just letting it go. I can't deal with anymore. I gotta be me.

Now that we've gotten that straight, let the blogging resume.

Pinterest Help

I mentioned in my last post that my newest obsession is a very fun site called Pinterest. It is basically a set of virtual bulletin board that you "pin" images to that you run across online or while perusing other people's boards. It's a really easy way to keep track of fun ideas you want to try to make, wear, see, do, read, photograph, etc.

But it is a little overwhelming to figure out. I found this post very helpful. I think because it is fairly new, there are still several kinks to be worked out, but once you get the hang of it, you will be hooked!

Let me know if you join so I can follow you!

WYPW (edition: head start)

Let's be honest--major slackage going on here. The latest blogging sensation, our very own WYPW, seems to catch me off guard each week. You want Wednesdays to come and go at the speed of light? Launch what may very well be the biggest thing to hit the blog world and watch them zoom past you. So I'm outsmarting Wednesday and posting on Tuesday. How ya like them apples?

The big boys are at Mamaw and Poppy's house for a few days. Asher says he wants to stay 4 days and Jude says he wants to stay 2 minutes. We'll probably meet somewhere in the middle. I miss my little guys and I'd like to think the feeling is mutual. But Mamaw and Poppy purchased a very large inflatable waterslide and provide ice cream sandwiches for dessert so it's not likely.

I'm meeting some friends in the morning to do a Dirt Bag-inspired workout. Since I've tentatively ventured into the world of running, I've realized how important it is to balance your strength, flexibility, and cardio training. Fauxga was helpful in developing the first two, but I started from scratch building up some cardio endurance. I'm definitely enjoying running more than I thought I would but I still have quite a way to go before I'm where I'd like to be. But using the heart rate monitor strapped to my chest, the ipod strapped to my arm, and the Nike+ chip embedded in my shoe, I think I may just get there one day.

Speaking of Dirt Bag, you know something's legit when you walk away with a t-shirt!



I realize the sling obscures the t-shirt but I had to put Simeon in that sling today. We have been sorting and packing up baby items that we don't plan on using in the near future. Space is at a premium in our home so if it's not being used and it's not a huge pain to borrow or replace should we need it again, it's going to someone who can use it. So my heart has been in a very fragile state realizing that diaper bags and changing tables are not, for the first time in over four years, a part of my life right now. Even my baby is becoming not so much a baby. So, you see, in order to not fall completely apart emotionally, I needed to put him in that sling.

He was not a fan.



And I did not care.

He would give me a little snuggle for a few seconds now and then, but most of our trip to Home Depot involved him throwing himself back in effort to break free. From his mama. Who loves him. Have you ever heard of such a thing?

We were at Home Depot buying paint for our new home office/recording studio/craft room. I'm very excited! The boys are doing well in their room together so it is full steam ahead on reclaiming some space around here for the ones that pay for it in the first place. My living room is a wreck right now with all the stuff that is in transition from one room to another. But soon it will all be organized and all will be well.

I'd like to write a little about Pinterest right now but I HAVE to go to bed since the 5 am wake up call is right around the corner, so I'll save that for another day, but if you are not on it yet, you simply must sign up. Addicting. So addicting.

Six.

Today is the anniversary of the day when Mr. Rives and I stood before God and spoke holy vows. We covenanted with Him and with one another. We promised to love each other. We promised that the only way we would separate would be if God Himself took one of us away. We promised to walk through life together, holding fast in all sorts of situations implicit in the word "life." We walked in that building two, we left as one.

So how do you commemorate such a sacred day?

You go eat cupcakes. Duh.



Asher was a big fan.



As was Jude.



Simeon really, really enjoyed his as well.



I won't lie. I really, really enjoyed mine, too.



Speaking of cupcakes...does it get any sweeter than that little cupcake right there?



And Simmy's pretty cute, too, isn't he?




Happy anniversary, Kristopher! I wouldn't trade you for all the cupcakes at Sprinkles!

Too much self-editing makes for a quiet blog

There are a lot of bugs in our yard. We are constantly waging war against these creatures that we tower over by a good million percent. They are our sworn enemies and what they lack in size, they make up for in reputation. The wasps enjoy the curtain portion of our canopy. The mosquitoes, who would have not batted an eye at Jesus' words I'm guessing, feast daily on our blood. And the ants. Oh my word the ants. We are forever spraying down and covering in various substances and squishing and squashing in effort to communicate, in no uncertain terms I feel, that they are not welcome here. Honestly, if I could, I would deliver a speech declaring my utmost respect for their labor and accomplishments. It really is extraordinary. I've read Proverbs. There is a sermon in that ant bed. But you bit my babies. So your ass is out of here.

Yes, I say "ass" sometimes. "Butt" is sort of on my nerves and "behind" doesn't really deliver the punch that I'm going for. I realize some people don't think a nice Christian girl ought to use such language, but for me, it gets the job done. Words really are neutral. You should hear what you can get away with saying in other cultures, even English speaking ones. For something to be sinful, it has to be wrong all the time and for everyone. It is not sin for me to say "ass." But it might be sin for me to call you an ass. Unless you are really being one and then it might be a great kindness on my part. Maybe your assness has been tolerated too long and it's just dragging you down? Maybe you need to snap out of it and enjoy God and life and ice cream again? Search your heart.

Cotton candy ice cream with "m's and m's." That was Jude's choice at Friday night's "boys' night out." Blue #40 running out his ears. I try to strike a balance when dealing with what my kids eat. But I also try to make it a non-issue. I don't want food to be this big thing that they connect their identity to. "I'm a health nut." "I'm a big fat slob." "I'm a crunchy organic monstrosity of a human." "I only eat crap but I give all the extra money I save to orphans." I just want them to eat when they're hungry. And to realize what feels good to eat a lot of and what feels good to eat a little bit of and that those that approach it differently may very well be lovely people that don't need any lip from them.

Well, I did blog. Be careful what you ask for.

What's Your Point? Wednesday (edition: has it been a week already?)

Of note this past week:

--Dirt Bag Boot Camp continues. Wendy is a fabulous trainer. I get the sense that she is deriving a certain amount of pleasure from seeing our contorted faces as we struggle to complete the exercises, but I guess these boot camps can get rather monotonous for her and she has to throw a few things at us purely for her own amusement.

--Tragic announcement (please sit if you are not already): My iPhone is gone. It apparently fell out of the car in the parking lot as I was getting out Monday evening and surprisingly enough, no one has attempted to return it to its rightful owner. It's frustrating on several levels, but it is, after all, just a phone. A phone that I really, really liked. Perhaps a little too much, so I'm processing that and making sure I "Don't Waste Losing My iPhone." But enough about the phone. Farewell, old friend. May you enjoy your stay on the black market and your new owner.

--Simeon is pulling up on everything now. He tries to stand up on his own by doing a challenging, downward-dogesque move but so far has been unsuccessful.

--Asher is very into sounding out words now. It really surprises me how well he can read most CVC words. Today he told me how to spell Jim, which is his Poppy's name. Then he said, "The place you go to work out is J-I-M, too?" I began to explain how G sometimes makes the same sound as a J, and Y is sometimes used as a vowel and that English is a really frustrating language to master, so that word is really G-Y-M. He said, "Oh, the gym we go to is G-Y-M and the Jim we love is J-I-M!" Exactly.

--Jude was sick last weekend and as I was trying to be really nurturing and comforting by rubbing his back as he was lying in bed, he looked at me and said, "I want you to go." Touching. But I can't blame him. Just leave me alone and let me sleep. Jude and I are cut from the same cloth indeed.

--Asher had his last soccer game on Saturday. It was quite a season for the Yellow Lightening. He was on a team with a bunch of his friends and he had a great coach, so it was a really good experience for him. We aren't playing any sports this summer but this fall, Jude will have turned 3 so they will be able to play on a team together. And he has already informed us that we will watch him play and we will (oh yes we will) yell, "YAY JUDE!!!!!!" when he is on the field. My inner-crazy-sideline-yelling-mom-self started to emerge this season so little does he know, he has nothing to worry about.

WYPW (Edition: Jude)

Life as we know it continues. This is no small gift, I realize, but it doesn't make for a very active blog. So here we are again at another WYPW, also known as the one day each week I post.

Jude is in the bathroom right now taking full advantage of being in the bathroom by repeating "poo-poo!" over and over again because the bathroom is the one place that, as he is reminded constantly, potty-talk is acceptable. If you are, in fact, poo-pooing on the potty, you may talk about it as much as you please. And so he does.

He is most definitely a "seize the moment" kind of guy. When he sees opportunity, he goes for it. Asher and I were at the gym the other night, Simeon was taking a catnap, Kris was in another room, and Jude was, supposedly, watching Thomas in the living room. Except he wasn't. He got a stool from the bathroom and brought it to the kitchen and proceeded to help himself to my freshly-baked zucchini bread I made for our bible study the next day. He ate the entire top layer, which, incidentally, is my favorite part, too. He did get a spanking for getting a stool and using it to take something off of the oven, but we secretly laughed because that is quintessential Jude.

We have recently convinced him that his name is not Judah-cuda Kristobear Rives. He has several nicknames which have only served to confuse him. Judah Barracuda and Judah Bear mingled with his given name resulted in the hilariously inaccurate moniker above. We think he is clear about it now though.




Yesterday Asher helped him with something and he said, "Thank you, Asher! You're the best big brother in the whole wide world." He also spilled some milk and went right to the towel drawer, got out a towel, and cleaned up his mess. Moments like those are so comforting. He CAN be taught!




My point? I find Jude to be a delightful combination of frustrating and endearing.

Kris might tell you the exact same thing about someone else we all know and love.

So what's YOUR point?

Please do share!

WYPW

Well I'll just go ahead and tell you right now what my point is. My point is I. AM. SORE.



For reasons still unclear to me, I accepted an invitation from my friend, Wendy, to attend Dirt Bag Boot Camp, which she runs. It was on a total whim that I made this decision. I've never wanted to go boot camp. I've never even thought about going to boot camp. And yet, I find myself at boot camp. At 5 o'clock. In the morning. Cheryl accepted the challenge, too. And now we can't quit because we both have this intense need to show the other up...er...I mean, finish what we start. Yeah...that's it.


In all honesty, as painful as these past 3 days have been (only 17 more to go!) it has felt good to try to do something challenging. I have run more in the past three days than in the past three years. I told Cheryl I sort of bragged a little to various people that I lost all my baby weight without doing any cardio (just strength and flexibility training) but I was wishing that first day I would have hit the treadmill a time or two. I wished it the second day, too. And about my fourth time up the 6 story parking garage this morning, I wished it again. It's good to regain a little lung capacity. And all the other stuff besides the cardio--I can't even talk about it right now. It's too soon. I might cry. (My point: I already told you. I'm sore.)



I had a conversation with Asher that went something like this this morning:

A--Mom! There's something BAD happening outside right now!
Me--Oh no! What! (said in my best fake-concerned voice as I could hear Jude playing nicely and as long as that is happening, how bad could whatever it is really be?)
A--There is a FLY on our LETTUCE! And I sang this song to it: "Shoo, fly! Don't bother our lettuce." and it would not go away.
Me--Well maybe it's not familiar with that song. Maybe you need to actually shoo it away. Not all flies pick up on subtle hints in the form of folk songs.
A--I did! And it just went more into the lettuce.

(My point: Four year olds are pretty funny.)

Simeon pulled up on the coffee table today for the first time today! He smiled at me with a "well this is a skill that's going to come in handy" look on his face. (My point: Where did my baby go?)

I'd write more, but I am conserving the rest of my energy for tomorrow. When I will wake up at 5 o'clock. In the morning.

Simeon James the 10 Month Old

Simeon is 10 months old today! I have yet to do an actual post on him since his birth. This does not surprise me nor does it induce feelings of guilt. I've just decided to not do that whole thing where I bemoan all the documenting I ought to do but don't. I love Simmy and I could not be more thrilled that he is mine. So put that in your scrapbook and smoke it.

I love this picture of Simeon because he is shoving food in his mouth. At Jason's Deli no less. He eats basically whatever we eat now. Occasionally, if he is eating before we do, I'll give him some baby food but it really surprises me that he will still eat it. It's nice to be at the point where we can all eat the same meal.

Simeon stated crawling at about 8.5 months. He is by far the earliest crawler but that's not surprising since he had great motivation to become mobile. Asher and Jude were having way too much fun to just continue to sit there and watch. He hasn't started pulling up to standing yet though. I think because it looks a lot like work and he's not really into that kind of thing.

He just recently dropped his little 3rd cat nap so he's down to just a morning (when we are home) and a good solid 2-3 hour nap in the afternoon. He has 3 bottles a day but barely drinks 6 oz. each time. This may have something to do with all the face-stuffing that goes on during meals. (See picture above.)

I'm not sure how much he weighs (probably in the 23-24 lb. range.) Or how long he is. Or how big his head is. These are important statistics, I'm sure, but I don't really buy that whole "well check-up" thing so it's been...let's just say "a while"...since he has visited the doctor.

He has a lovey. It is a beautiful, knitted baby blanket that was actually made for Asher and since he was 3 or 4 months old, it has been his favorite. I initially used it to cover him because it has spaces between the stitiches so I was never worried about it obstructing his breathing. And now he is obsessed with it. I'm trying to avoid a Jude situation where the lovey is his best friend on the planet so we try to leave it in his bed unless we are going to be gone during nap time or overnight.

Simeon is still such a sweet, sweet baby with a way of looking at you that is sort of entrancing. Even when he was a newborn, he would look intently into my eyes. People often comment about the way he looks at them, too. He really seems to be focusing on you and paying attention to what you say. It is clear already that he has a special quality about him--he draws people in and wins them over so easily. But I'm just his mother--what do I know?

Of course, I must make note of ALL the things he is up to. He is a little doll...most of the time. But he has his moments. Usually when I am trying to change his diaper. And he likes to screech. And growl. It's pretty funny actually but he can get really rough. We call him the little warrior because he will attack. Good thing he has big brothers to keep him in check.

He needs a haircut. My friend Patti refers to his 'do as the "George Washington look." Admittedly, the hair is a little unruly, but you give a baby that first big boy haircut and the next thing you know they are 4 and calling you "mom." I'm not falling for that one again.

I can't believe we are approaching his first birthday! He has been such a welcomed addition to our family and, more importantly, to Asher and Jude's band. We all are quite smitten with this little guy and love getting to spend our days with him.


Sweet Simmy--you are one loved 10 month old.