I love the sunlight, the floral explosions, and the dramatic sunsets at this time of year.  Of course, I don’t know how to use my camera well enough to actually do the sunset justice, but here’s what I’ve got.

Riding his bike sans training wheels! 

I decided that he was more than ready to ride a two wheeler, so before we went to our friends’ house tonight, I took them off without him seeing and threw the bike in the car. 

 

When I got his bike out later, he wasn’t too happy about the new look, and the first two times he tried it, he went a few feet with some help.  Then he took a two hour break and came back to it.

 

The third time he got on, he told me to let go and anyway he went!  He needed help getting started for about five more minutes, and then he figured that out, too.  He’s riding with the big kids now! 

We’re now out of diapers and done with training wheels.  What’s next?  Afternoon cocktails instead of popsicles? (Okay!)

I’ve got to do this differently next year—nothing can ruin a sunny Saturday like getting 3 kids ready to spend hours at the mall to get pictures taken.  I didn’t put Wesley into his white shirt until we were ready to get in the car.  Then he picked his scab and bled all over his face, hand, and white shirt.  Sigh…

But look what we came home with!  (I do usually curate better than this, but I’ve got a lot of cute pictures of the kids.  Not so many of me.)

 

 

 

Between the sun, the new camera, and just the way kids dress, I got some pretty colorful shots today at the skate park, where we met some Kindergarten friends for lunch and play.

 

I distinctly remember my mother telling me that red and pink do not match, while I wore my pink shirt and red shorts as often as Mom would wash them.  Mom, I’m sorry.

Wes was in rare form today.  I began well, starting my day 5 minutes earlier than usual.  Which I immediately wasted by spending 2o minutes putting a nylon sock over our vacuum cleaner and suctioning toys out of Wesley’s vent today.  (Brilliant way of fishing for small items without having to go through the dirt bag later.) His preferred item to put down a sloped vent was, appropriately, cars.   Yep, things with wheels.  My right arm bears longs scratches from the jagged metal edges.  Wesley can now say, with a perfectly straight face, “I will not put anything down the vents.” 

This is what I pulled out of his air vent.

 

This is what he looked like as he was announcing his intention of traveling the straight and narrow path.  (The nasty cuts are from a spectacular bike crash at the skate park that actually cracked his indestructible bike just 15 hours earlier.  More later.  But he had already asked to go back to the skate park to try again.)

 

Then an after-lunch conversation we had.

Me: Wesley, where do we go poop?

Wesley:  In the potty!

Me:  Why did you poop on the sand box lid out on the back deck?

Wesley:  Uh, I just wanted to.

Me:  Where are you supposed to go poop?

Wesley:  In the potty!

 

Later, I had six yards of dirt delivered, which was like have a whole new play set brought right to our front yard. 

 

For some reason, Piper decided she needed roller skates and wood scraps to climb Everest.  Wesley saw the wood and raised her two badminton racquets.

 

You didn’t see this coming, did you?

Yep, down to their underwear.

 

And then I stopped taking pictures, because they got a hold the full water barrel and chaos really reared its head.  I literally hosed them down outside before carrying each child at arm’s length into the house and dropping each in the bathtub.

 

Wesley at 3:30 in the afternoon.

This girl has must have an extra shot of oxytocin.  She’s loves to hold babies (and hamsters and chicks and frogs and butterflies) and I think she got more time cuddling Baby C than I did.  Since when did I have to compete with my own child to hold a baby?

Last year, we made little bouquets of forget-me-nots for the entire neighborhood.

This year, ten minutes before we all needed to leave the house, the kids all made these for their teachers.   Well, it beats looting the streets on the first of May.

…But wish I would have.

(1) From my brother’s blog about a utility sink installation he was doing in their garage:

“How cheap can I make this project” turned into “how much do I have to spend in order to not call a plumber.”

I’d have to change “plumber” to “Papa Jim” but the sentiment is fully understood.

 

(2) From a blog on ParentMap, by Stephanie Olson.

If I am staying at home and I am a feminist, I had damn well better raise two boys who are kind and respectful and gentle in this world.

Again, I’d have to personalize it a bit:

If I am staying at home and I am a feminist, I had damn well better raise 3 kids who are kind and useful and pick their nose in private…and do it better than anyone I could have paid. 

How would you other Stay-at-Homes finish this thought? If I am staying at home and I am a feminist, I had damn well better raise ____ kids/boys/girls who are ________________________.

I have not gotten the old camera to work since that last fateful picture of us at the beach.  I can start blogging again, since I bought this little dandy off craigslist.  It’s faster, better, and—being used—cheaper than my old one.  And I haven’t let any kids touch it.

 

My first shots—isn’t fast enough to catch Kyla smiling?  In a darkened car?  Pass and PASS!