I'll see ya when we get there

Eight years ago I was in a Hungarian hospital holding my brand new baby boy. My first-born. I looked at him and could see so far into what I thought would be our future.

But I couldn't see past about seven. I loved small children. I adored them. But an eight year old boy? Hmmm...that seemed awkward. pre-pre-pubescent, changes, body...stuff...I would have kept him little.

I would have missed so much.

But isn't that life? If we could see who we (or our children) will be in the future, would we be able to survive the long necessary road that leads there? Would we drive ourselves mad with curiosity like I sometimes do when I read the ending page of a novel...wondering HOW and constantly wanting to skip ahead?

I never thought I would be who I am today. Many beliefs have changed, many absolutes in parenting have dissolved; I'm a different parent than I ever could have imagined. Indeed, I'm a different person than I could have imagined. And you know what? I'm okay with that.

Tonight we cross the realm from 7 to 8. For just a while he sat on my lap. I played with his hair. Then I helped him up into bed and allowed him the privilege of "Call of the Wild" before turning out the light.

Blankets were tucked, a hug and a kiss, puppy was nuzzled into his arms...and he sat up for just one more kiss.

"I love you mom"

I love you too baby boy...more than you'll ever know.

I adore 8 year old Jake. Conversations deepen, I can see empathy stirring in him, wheels of reason are beginning to turn and all the while my sweet Jake remains.

I don't know who he will be in five years. I don't know who I'll be in five years for that matter. And I don't need to know...cause I'll see ya when we get there.

Happy birthday Jakey boy.

The King and his Princess

There was much debate in the Yoder pre-Halloween household on whose costume Lily would be a part of. Both of the older ones wanted the little princess to adorn their side: Max claiming her as a Scottish princess and Jake insisting on her being England's little lady. In the end, (after reading the "less than nice" things about the ladies surrounding William Wallace's Scotland) Max allowed Jake to claim his accessory. 

And so she became the daughter of King Alfred the Great. 

Other than her hat (which fell off all the time) everything went quite well with the Little Lady's dress. I did realize quickly, however, that girls clothes are much harder and more time consuming to make. That said, I just couldn't bring myself to dress her as Joan of Arc. 

Jake played the part of regal king quite well...perfecting the stance he saw of a statue, kneeling, posing with his sword and flinging his cape around. 

He was especially happy to be a person of power again this year...and liked to make people try to guess who he was. "So who are you?" (Jake): "Guess." (person) "A king?" (Jake) which king?

He was also very happy that his costume (unlike Max's) had pants and a "long shirt." I decided not to inform him that white silky pants with gold bands were probably not the most masculine thing he could wear and actually made him more feminine than Max. Why rock the boat...especially when Max could care less. 

In the end, Max still got his princess time. 

Freedom!!!!!

This was the first year Max was independently inspired for his costume. It started last year with the study of the Celtic people. (who would paint themselves blue as their armor) SO...Painting blue on your body and running around screaming "FREEDOM" with a broad-sword and a look of fierce defiance equaled an easy choice for Max.

Come to think of it, the character fit his "underdog" personality. I realized today that he always puts himself on the "other side" of whatever game or battle is happening. William Wallace was the perfect fit for Maxwell.

And he played the part well.

Sword and shield by daddy.

There's my Max!

Kilt antics. ;)

More kilt antics.

Mother's Day 2010

A sunny day at the kid's favorite park is a recipe for a happy mother's day. Add sisters, friends, and a husband to help watch and it gets even better. Of course, having our mom's there would have been the best thing. We missed you. I am putting this up as quickly as possible because I know this is probably the next best thing to being there.

The baby was adorable...as usual...and had plenty

of arms to snuggle in.

The littles wandered...to the train, down the hill, around the rocks, back and forth to the picnic basket (taking advantage of the fact that I don't like to say "no" on special days and eating WAY too many treats).

The bigs were hilariously raptured in a massive social structure game. It started because ...well... what else do you do when 10 young kids (ages 4 - 9) get together in a large park? First you find sticks to use as swords, then eventually divide into teams, then assign positions. At one point I went to check on things and got the rundown on the jobs ranging from berry pickers to messenger to servant to warrior.

It has been a difficult year. What with Josh's school schedule and homeschooling in the midst of having a baby and toddlerdom x2. Much of the time I am simply exhausted.

But.

They bring more blessing to my life than could ever be imagined. These are the intense years. The blessings and the insanity. The quiet slumbering beauties and the crazy sword throwing warriors. Intense lessons in patience and intense feelings of love for these five beautiful children.

Earth Day 2010

Adoption...its a good thing. It is my hope to have one of those signs along the highway which reads "Adopt a Highway sponsored by A Family of Seven." But alas, I think it may raise some eyebrows to have preschool children along the roadside. It may have to wait a few years.

So instead, for Earth Day, we headed down to the Corvallis riverfront to clean up what litter we could find. Janine and the three cousins joined us for a humorous time of watching seven little ones peruse for trash with the promise of making an art project out of the findings. Better than an Easter egg hunt...yet perhaps a little less tasty.

Following the trash hunt (or rather as the trash hunt naturally died down) they discovered fields of daises. The perfect conclusion: an enjoyment of the little beautiful things that God graces us with each day.

We also stopped to watch some skaters.

And some fighters...

The nice fighter man came to talk to the boys and ask if anyone wanted to fight. He was met with nearly invisible shakes of the head, huge eyes, and shy smiles. I think this was a little too reminiscent of the gladiator chapter of history for Jake.

Aidan took him on though...to which Jake replied later "Good for Aidan!" I love that kid's absolute disregard for peer pressure. ;)

Art project to follow.

And yes...I do let my kids touch cigs. If they are scared to touch them, how will they ever clean them up? But we did wash our hands ;)

Happy Birthday my little elf.

One should take good care in the choosing of a name if that child is set up arrive around the turn of spring. It is true that we named Oliver for its meaning of "peace" however, our little equinox child more fittingly holds to the (then unknown to us) alternate meaning of his name.

There is something in his laugh...something in the glimmer of his eyes...something entrancing about Ollie that lights up my heart and makes me on my guard all at the same time.

No one embodies the turning of spring like Oliver. I have given attention to the similarities of his personality and the typical March patterns: up and down, rain and shine, cold and hot. Such high and low moments which embody small Ollie and have since his infancy.

Oh dear, elfish child...I love you with all my heart. My spring child. My march baby. My Ollie. Happy Birthday little one!