post scrubbing.

so Rowan came in the house the other day with what appeared to be a thick coat of mud on his hands.  only as I got closer, I quickly realized that it was definitely NOT mud.

it was, dare I say it?  POOP.  apparently, he had taken it upon himself to unearth his own "buried treasure."

however, that's another hour of my life lost to poop.  you add up all those hours and realize, man, poop is needy.

-jessica

meet Spike.

first of all, I couldn't help but chuckle after reading the comments about my fashionable "hiking" attire, LOL.  sure, if you want to call jeans and converse "fashionable", I'll take it!  oh, I'm just teasing ;-) I guess I shouldn't refer to these outings with my pre-schoolers as "hikes", because they're a far cry from any sort of workout.  maybe a more appropriate term would be "nature walk", or "stroll", even, so I figure any type of clothing goes.  obviously, if I'm going to do a hard core hike, I throw on heels and a chunky necklace.  like, DUH!  bwahahahahaha!  I bet you can hardly wait to see pics from our Havasupai hike now!  hee.  red heels all the way, baby!  right.  and I'd be as good as dead.

have I ever mentioned that I love blogging?  your comments always make me smile, or laugh out loud.

anyway, back when Rowan was going through all the hair debacles, it seemed like we were continually buzzing his head to get rid of the "evidence"-- the chops, snips, and shaves, etc.  during that time, I affectionately took to calling him "Buzz" because more often than not, he was sporting a... wait for it... buzz cut!  makes me cringe thinking about it.  fortunately, he appears to have laid the hair-cutting hijinks to rest, and unfortunately, has taken to chugging coffee creamer from the fridge instead.  yeah, it's always something.  anyway, this hair-cutting hiatus has finally given his hair a chance to grow out.  and it's gotten quite long on the top, actually.

a couple days ago, I busted him in the bathroom spiking his long locks.  I was able to snap a few pictures before he noticed me.  it was the most hilarious thing ever.

he's now officially "Spike."

happy Wednesday!

-jessica

field trip.

thanks for all the meal ideas, you guys!  I accomplished quite a bit yesterday-- I think I logged at least 8 hours in the kitchen.  not bad, eh?  I might have to invest in a padlock for the freezer though, to keep the scavengers from scarfing it all.

*  

a couple weeks ago I packed up the three youngest and set off for Sedona, mainly to celebrate the arrival of warmer weather and enjoy the great outdoors.  when the weather gets nice, I find it hard to roost inside.

      

it was late morning when I made the announcement, "it's a beautiful day!  let's go on a field trip!"  immediately, Phoebe starts jumping up and down, yelling excitedly, "hooray, a field trip!" while Rowan, not to be left out, joins in the chorus with his version, "yay, feed twip!"  before the frenzy dies down, Phoebe quickly adds, "um, what's a field trip?"  ha.

I explain to her that it's a special trip, usually to explore a cool place.  "sort of like an adventure."  with a note of mysteriousness in my voice I continue, "you like adventures, right?"  Phoebe nods eagerly and Rowan's eyes get all wide as he mimics me, "uh-benture?"  exactly.

so, a half-hour later we arrive at our destination: West Fork, a scenic hiking trail that winds along Oak Creek and is surrounded by gorgeous canyon walls.    

I roll up to the booth to pay the park entrance fee.  as I come to a stop, the (crotchety-appearing) lady inside cranks her head out the window and begins inspecting my cargo.  she peers at the three obviously small children in the back of the van and frowns.  turning her attention back to me, she asks, "you planning on doing the hike?"  "um, yeah," I answer.  "well," she continues, "just to let you know, the creek is running about 2-3 inches above the rocks.  might be a bit challenging for the wee ones to cross."  

oops.  I remember now that this is the trail that requires you to ford the creek in certain spots.  and in order to cross, you have to leap from rock to rock and maintain your balance while doing so, as to not fall in. (the creek is fairly shallow, so it's mostly to avoid schlepping around in wet, soggy shoes, rather than getting swept away.) well, this should be interesting, I thought, because Rowan would be walking.  but hey, I'm always up for a challenge.  I pay the fee and the lady shakes her head as if to say, "you crazy woman."  nothing new there. 

first things first: lunch, because it's not fun to hike on an empty stomach, right?  and the kids were beyond thrilled to eat from a brown bag.  "just like the school kids," Phoebe tells me.  "school," says Rowan, a big smile on his face.  um, Rowan, I think you have a few skills to learn before heading to school, like going pee on the potty for starters.                   

we weren't too far on our "uh-benture" (really, how fast can you go with three kids, age 4 and under?) when Phoebe comes up to me with this sweet bunch of flowers, smiles and says, "mom, I picked these just for you... because you're sooo nice."  it was one of those moments in parenthood where, among all the times of I-don't-know-what-the-heck-I'm-doing, a tiny seed sprouts.  like aha!  I must be doing something right!

as we approach the first creek crossing, I start to get a little panicky.  but instead of having to teeter on slippery rocks to get across, someone had so kindly constructed a makeshift bridge out of a pile of logs.  obviously The Lady in the Booth was not informed of this.  I said a quick prayer and sent Phoebe off.  out of the four times we had to cross, she ended up slipping only once, soaking her sock and shoe.  if it bothered her, she never said. 

getting Rowan (and myself) across was definitely more hairy canary.  for one, I had Scarlett on my back, and two, I had to hold both of Rowan's hands (see above), while he inched along in front of me, stumbling every now and then.  the combination of the two threw my balance off a bit, and made for some slow traversing.  but, nevertheless, we did it.  and I bet you're all siding with The Lady in the Booth now, huh?  thought so.

but oh, the views were worth it!   

as well as watching Rowan.  I tell you, the kid was in his element.  climbing trees, exploring, hauling rocks, picking out walking sticks and playing in the dirt.  I always like to claim: the grubbier the kid, the more successful the outing.  it's all good, because this is what making memories is all about.

chalk another one up for the self-timer.

Scarlett loved the fresh air-- and it wasn't long before she zonked out.  top right picture taken by "photographer" Phoebe.  it was quite comical watching her, as she could barely hold the camera up.

in the end, everything went fine and we all had a grand time.  I loaded the dirty, tired kids into the van and within a minute they were all sound asleep.  and I got to enjoy a peaceful drive home.  that's worth the trip right there.      

so, where will your next "uh-benture" take you?"

-jessica

on the Rowan front.

perhaps some of you have wondered where Rowan (the atomic bomb disguised as a kid) has disappeared to?  well, for those of you wanting to know, the reason I haven't blogged about him lately is because, uh well, we locked him away in the attic for a couple months.

I'm totally, TOTALLY kidding. (but that's not saying I've never thought about it ;)

actually, in terms of naughtiness, Rowan has, for the most part, turned over a new leaf, knock on wood.  and by "for the most part," I mean that instead of being a total headache, he's now just a partial one.  he still has his moments, but at least they're becoming fewer and farther between. maybe due to the fact that he's now closer to three than two?  whatever the reason, it definitely calls for a few cartwheels.

for a while there it seemed like his ill-behavior was NEVER going to end, and that I'd be completely gray by age 35.  on most days, he had me simultaneously crying, laughing, and tearing my hair out, leaving me only to question, "what on earth did I do to deserve a kid like this?"  and then the memories from my rebellious teenage years came flooding back and I was all, crud, I'm doomed.    

anyway, as I mentioned earlier, Rowan hasn't completely outgrown his mischievous ways.  his most recent craze involves the use of drawing utensils; crayons, markers, pens, pencils, you name it, he's not picky.  I just wish he'd use a different medium besides the wall or his body.  oh and I almost forgot, he doesn't like to wear clothes, either.  tra la la, less wash for me.  how's that for a silver lining?

I'm recording these pictures simply because I can not wait to show his kids all the awesome things he did.  like look kids, your dad was so funny HINT, HINT. 

a budding artist, wouldn't you agree?  although he acted extremely embarrassed while I took these photos, strangely enough, I felt no remorse. instead, I laughed maniacally.  I know, such a cruel mother, but no way could I keep a straight face.  what a kid.

also, judging by the cute smiley face, it appears there was an accomplice involved, aka, Ida Know.  have you seen him/her around your place?

just wondering.

-jessica

PS. oh Rowan, life would be so boring without you! :)

how to speak "Rowan-ese."

given that sometimes (but not always) l = w, x = k, th = n, p = g, and extra syllables will sometimes be added to or removed from words as the mood strikes, translate the following before meltdown occurs:

a.) peebutt an je-wee!  PEEBUTT AN JE-WEE.

b.) ju-bok!  JU-BOK.

c.) pay na umpewter!  pay na UMPEWTER.

d.) sing-atta-gay-gown!  I said, SING ATTA GAY GOWN.

did you guys get that?  if not here you go:  

a.) peanut butter and jelly.

b.) juice box.

c.) play the computer.

d.) swing at the playground.

yeah so, what Rowan lacks in the speech and vocabulary department, he makes up for ten-fold in physical development.  I guess that's just a nice way of saying he's all brawn and no brains.  dur.  so what if he can't pronounce his name correctly, the kid does double backflips off the couch!  dude!

from our "nature walk" at Boynton Canyon in beautiful Sedona:

somewhere along the trail, Scarlett pulled off her hat and tossed it on the ground, which we didn't realize until later when, after searching high and low, the hat was nowhere to be found.  on our way out, we discovered it just like this, plopped on the trail marker by a kind soul, bless their heart.  I've officially named this hat "Boynton the pig."

they say a picture is worth a thousand words, but I'm pretty sure I can sum this one up in just two: "go away." (and take that big black thing with you.)

oh Rowan, you just make me laugh :)

-jessica

PS. could you guys do me a HUGE FAVOR and vote for my photo over at i heart faces?  go HERE and scroll down to photo #175.  thanks, I'll love you forever.

most embarrassing moment.

but first, this.

when it comes to dealing with picky eaters, this is what I learned:
a.) no one really knows how to deal with them.
b.) make sure they take their vitamins.
c.) um, that was all.

so, instead of letting it consume my every waking thought and every living, breathing moment, every second of every single day, I'm just going to pray that I live to see Rowan eat salad. (is that asking too much?) and then keel over from shock when he does.  amen.

and now on to today's featured post.

most embarrassing moment.  hmmm.  I've had quite a few over the years, but the one that I cringe about the most took place shortly after the birth of my third child, which would be Chloe, if I remember correctly. (do you guys ever forget the birth order of your children? LOL. actually, what I was getting at is this: do you ever find yourself recalling past events based off of either a.) who you were pregnant with at the time of said event or b.) who you had just given birth to? for example: that happened around the time I was expecting Jake. or wait, was it Myra? or no, it had to be Ella. well, I'm pretty sure I was pregnant anyway.) I tend to see it as a benefit to those of us with many children.  kind of like a crutch-- so we don't have to remember years and dates and stuff.  but, I digress.

flashback to the year 1999. (hold on a sec. was I even old enough to have three kids in 1999? let's see, that was 12 years ago... so 34 minus 12 da da dumm da.. holy cow, I was 22!  man that seems like eons ago. so yeah, I guess I WAS old enough. albeit just barely out of diapers.)

another interesting factoid: when I had my third child, my oldest was 2.  like wha..?  how's that supposed to work?  sorry, I'm not going to delve into that right now.

okay, so it's September something something 1999.  I am at the something something clinic in Monticello, Minnesota for my six week postpartum check up.  oh joy.  I am signing in at the front desk.

just then, my OB doc walks in from the back to speak with the receptionist about something.  I notice he is impeccably dressed; he has on a suit, tie, the whole shebang.  I pause mid-signature to admire the get-up, my mouth falling agape as I do so.  I might have even drooled a bit.  wow, I think to myself, he sure looks debonair, as this is the first time I have ever seen him dressed in anything besides mint green scrubs.  

he looks over at me standing there and asks, "hey! how are things going with the new little one?"  "uh, fff-ine, we're doing well," I manage to stammer out, still a bit caught off guard from seeing him in the fancy attire. (where were the mint green scrubs I'd grown accustomed to seeing him in during the course of my pregnancy? what was up with the suit?)  and then.  THEN.  do you even want to know what I said to him next?  of course you do.  it was these seven humiliating words:

 "you sure look different with clothes on."

um yeah, MORTIFYING. (more like he should've been the one telling me that, right? ;)

I am now sixteen shades of red.

here's my diaper-clad contortionist making a fool of himself.  silly boy!

and now you're probably wondering what in the wide world compelled me to confess my most embarrassing moment, huh?  it's because I really want to win a free photo session from Blue Lily Photography, that's why!  so head on over there and tell them about your most humiliating, awkward moment for a chance to win.  ends Friday.

in Blue Lily speak, hilario!

-jessica

PS. you don't have to blog about your embarrassing moment in order to enter.  I just did because... because... I'm not sure why.

help! I'm raising a milk addict.

during the course of raising wee ones, how many of you have had to deal with a picky eater at one time or another?

MEEEEEEEEE! (frantically waving arms) I have!  no, not over there, over HERE.  yeah, me.  the one typing this.  

unfortunately, we haven't been exempt from this issue.  this household has certainly had its fair share of food trials throughout the years.  I've often wondered how the kid (the picky eater at the time) even survived, they ate so little.  fortunately, it seems to be a phase that most kids eventually grow out of (or maybe some never do.)  but still, it's always tough when you're faced with it, like I am once again.

(btw, if you're one of the select few that hasn't had to deal with this issue, then go jump in a lake, would you?  but before you jump, I do have one small request.  could you please email me your secrets?  thanks in advance.)

currently, about the only "food" Rowan will touch is milk. (is that even considered a food?) okay, maybe he'll eat a few other things, like cookies (duh), ice cream (dar) and mac and cheese (dur), but for the most part, all he cares about, or wants, is milk.  and he'll stop at nothing to get his fix, including pouring it himself (can you say disastrous?) or persuading one of his siblings to get it for him.  lately, I've been refusing his requests, but that leads to these most horrendous kicking and screaming fits.  it's driving me crazy.  

I've tried a few different strategies to get him to eat more at meal times, but to no avail.  these have included everything from reverse psychology (don't you dare touch that broccoli stalk. I mean it), to positive reinforcement (much cheering if he tries something new) to simply ignoring him.  I even tried the power of suggestion, where I played up a slice of apple by waving it in front of him while making yummy, smacking noises: "mmm.  this is sooo good.  does Rowan want a taste?"  honestly, I might as well have suggested that I whip out the kitchen shears and snip off his tongue.  he clamped his mouth shut and emitted the worst sound ever made, a sound I can't even describe except it made me want to scoop out my eardrums with a grapefruit spoon rather than hear it a moment longer.  "milk!" he screamed.

rewind to last week.  I had this grand idea that maybe if I disguised the food, I could trick him into eating it, you know, because he won't know what's underneath the disguise.  am I sneaky or what?  so I whipped this up:

I set the plate down in front of him and said, "look Rowan!  a Christmas tree!  do you want to eat it?"  immediately his eyes got all big, and I thought maybe, just maybe, he'll bite this time.  he looked at the plate, then back at me and exclaimed, "presents!  santa!  I want miiillllkkk!"

all hope quickly vanished.
    
ARGH.  I know he’ll grow out of it, someday, maybe.  but right now it makes me nuts at just about every meal.  at this point, I think it's turned into a mind game: control (for him) versus battle of wills (for me), more than anything.  eat this or else!

so do any of you have any tips, tricks or menu ideas that have worked for you?  I'm at the point where I'm willing to try anything.  or do I just let it go and pray it passes over?  do I just not care?  like so what if he's a strict adherent to the all-dairy, all-white-with-a-little-orange-in-it diet?  I'm guessing he'll survive, just like the rest have.

but, will I?

-jessica

a quick Rowan update.

out of the cast of characters that appear on Room for Nine, I'm betting Rowan is your favorite, am I right?  and well, how could he not be with his handsome looks, winsome smile, twinkling eyes appetite for destruction.  this boy is going places, I just know it.  I can feel it like the cold January breeze blowing through my house.  sigh.  Rowan, for the 37th time, would you please shut the front door?  

anyway, I believe I've mentioned Rowan's fascination with self-barbering before.  he's chopped his bangs a time or four.  he's done a number to the sides of his head on a couple different occasions.  I think the ultimate 'do though, was the time he somehow managed to shear a quarter-sized spot off the top of his head, making it appear as though he had some sort of funny disease.  man, this kid can sniff out a pair of scissors like nobody's business.

remember this photo?  the one on the right was photoshopped to hide "the spot."  yeah, so I cheated.

talk about a whack job.

and so, after dealing with hair blunders and buzz cuts for what seemed like FOREVER, we finally managed to keep the scissors hidden away long enough for his hair to grow back.  in fact, just last Saturday, Gary took the clippers out and trimmed Rowan's hair up all nice and neat and for once in his entire second year of life, he actually looked... cute.  and so, it was good.

rewind a couple days.  Wednesday to be exact.  I was in my bathroom, straightening my hair, lost in my own deep thoughts when, amidst a sudden stream of consciousness, I hear this faint scraping sound.  shwaack, shwaack, shwaack.  hmmm.  that's odd, wonder what that could be.  I walk into my bedroom to investigate and I kid you not, Rowan had Gary's razor in his hand, and was madly swiping at his head with it;  shwaack, shwaack, shwaa...
   
Rowan, nooooo!  I quickly raced over and yanked the razor away from him.  but not before he had succeeded in shaving a couple spots clear down to the scalp, drawing blood even.

oh would you look at this.

it's like swiss cheese with all the holes.

so, once again, we're housing a *cute* leper.

-jessica

PS. oh.  and have a great weekend :)