creepy dude

We keep our collection of Shakespeare's Graphic Novels in the downstairs bathroom. It seemed a good place to store books that I really want the kids frequently exposed to since they enter the room regularly and quickly become a captive audience.

Yesterday, Aidan came out of the bathroom and began describing to Dawson the book he had been reading while doing his business.

"There is this guy and he is stabbing this other guy with a big knife. There is a whole lot of blood. I don't know what book it was, but it looks pretty good to me."

Dawson replied, "That's a Shakespeare play, Buddy. It's called Macbeth and a king is murdered by a jealous man who wants to become king. The guilt of the murder slowly drive he and his wife crazy, though."

Aidan, who was nodding along said, "That Shakespeare is a real creepy dude. I like him."

summer standard

Our typical summer day.

the normal pile o' towels 

watermelon junkies 

one of the twins (I truly don't know whom) with cousin Sadie

Papaw on baby pool duty

again - no idea if this is Keats or Aidan
(They adore their matching swim gear. I find it quite fiendish.)

Elyas and Nana enjoying the first watermelon of the season

finished with watermelon, Elyas moved onto grass

Dawson before his manly dives off the board

Tucker, enjoying the splashes several of the dads were making off the board during adult swim.

Elyas  enjoying his freedom to move around the pool this year

under control

We find our evening prayers are much easier to accomplish in the boys' room. This way we can place Elyas into his bed and his crib tent is zipped nice and tight, eliminating the need for someone (or several someones) to pray with their eyes wide open while Elyas performs his usual acrobatic, mountain climbing antics. He "holds hands" by placing his palm to the mesh of the crib tent on the inside while another Rutherford hand does the same on the outside.

Tonight, though, Elyas wanted nothing to do with prayers. As I was coaching him along with "Thank you for daddy. Thank you for mommy . . ." his usual parroting fell by the wayside and he simply cried: "More milk! More milk! More milk . . ." while pathetically rolling around in his bed.

Sensing this was a loosing battle on my end, I waved the white flag by simply skipping to the end and saying: "Thank you most of all for Jesus."

Elyas immediately ceased his whining and sweetly said: "Amen."

And so tonight I have learned that self-control for the almost-two-year-old is not quite the missing link he would have us believe.

Sleep tight, Sir Elyas. We're on to you now.

man up

All of the Rutherford Boys (excluding Elyas, much to his dismay) are giving soccer a try this fall. Scott and I signed them up and ordered their uniforms, then assumed we were done until the fall.

Wrong-o.

We began to get emails in which quickly helped us realize that there is a lot more to childhood sports than when we were kids. Please upload your child's photo to their player page. Please prepare for Family Fun Fundraiser on May 2. Please order your spirit gear by June 1. Please have your child ready for coach's evaluations beginning May 21. Don't forget their cleats & shin guards! Please upload your child's birth certificate on their player page. Please . .  .

ARRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!

So, after a brief adjustment/acceptance period (because there was only time for a brief one) we dove in. And, it hasn't been all that bad. I find I am actually feeling more like the suburban American mom than I imagined I ever could. It's pretty weird.

Tucker had his coach's evals yesterday. He had never played soccer and I wasn't sure how it would go. But, Tucker is as Tucker does. He asked directions and then gave it his all. When the coaches told him to kick differently, he did. When they said to get into the action, he did. It was actually pretty fun to watch him learning.

Then he kicked a goal from about 20 feet away. Or I should say he tried to kick a goal. He bashed the ball and it made a very un-impressive plink-plink-plink before resting about five feet away. Tucker's shoulders shlumped defeatedly and the coach called out, "You wanna try again?"

Tuck nodded and then I saw him rolling his shoulders and I could barely make out his personal pep-talk: "Gotta' man up. Gotta' man-up."

And then, The Run. WHAM! That ball never saw his foot coming and it sailed right into the top of the goal before rolling down the back side of the net. Tucker's arms shot over his head and a jubilant "YES!" rang out over the field.

Atta' boy.

knuffle bunny

For those of you who have not yet met Mo Willems' delightful Knuffle Bunny, just pop back to the children's section of Barnes and Noble and give it a quick read. It is truly one of the most charming books I have read since No David by David Shannon.

Elyas agrees.

He adores Knuffle Bunny. When he is upset, he cries not for mommy or daddy or Shelby, but for Bunny. When he crashes into a wall, smashes into the floor, or falls off tall objects, he is calmed by Bunny. And when he was running a 104 temperature last week, all he wanted was to sit on someone's lap and read Bunny over and over and over again.

Each of the Little Rutherfords has had a book they couldn't live without. For Shelby, it was The Strawberry Snatcher by Molly Bang. Dawson read No David over and over. Isabelle carted around My Cowboy Boots by Crystal Bowman while Tucker wanted to read The Little House by Virgina Lee Burton at least three times a day. Keats and Aidan both adored Blueberries for Sal by Robert McClosky and between the two of them I think it must have been read continuously. Abigail had Fancy Nancy by Jane O'Connor memorized by the time she was 2.

Shelby and I probably read Knuffle Bunny to Elyas with the most frequency, so when she stumbled on a stuffed version of Knuffle Bunny while browsing on Amazon, we were both excited. We generally don't buy things "just because," but the only new things Elyas has had since he was born are one pair of crocs and some jammies. I felt like maybe we could make an exception and we ordered it.

It arrived a few days ago, and now the two of them are inseparable. He snuggles with his bunny while waiting for someone to come read to him. At nap time and bedtime, he wraps his arms around his bunny and sighs contentedly. And throughout the day, Elyas tends to travel with Bunny safely tucked under his arm. I love it.

One of my favorite things about experiencing the children growing up is watching their personalities develop. For each of them, blankies may have been their first love but it was always a book which gained favorability second. Each of the OARs still fondly talk about their favorite childhood books and when they read them to a Little, it is a with a deep sense of "passing on the torch."

Of course, Scott and I have had our own Passing of the Torch moments such as Shelby recently beginning to read The Wheel of Time Series by Robert Jordan and when Isabelle read The Little House Series. Dawson and I very much enjoyed laughing together over a favorite book of mine, The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by EL Konigsburg. And I can't even begin to describe the sense of deep satisfaction when I look up to see Dawson handing a Shakespeare play to Shelby or Isabelle with the comment: "You have got to read this!"

I love this quote from the movie You've Got Mail: 


When you Read a book as a child, it becomes part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.

I wholeheartedly agree.

testing. blech.

One of our state requirements for Homeschooling is that in third, fifth, and eighth grades we will have the children take standardized tests. And as we are currently prepping Isabelle for her exam, I have to say that I have so much sympathy for public and private school teachers at the moment.

I hate the loss of time as I literally "teach to the test." Isabelle has an amazing math brain with a highly respected curriculum. The girl has a 98% average for the year! But we are having to take 2 hours a day to help make certain she can do the math which will appear on her test. And all I can think as we do this is: why?

It is such an arbitrary tool and it measures nothing other than how well a child can take a test. I truly cannot conceive of the challenges of helping to prepare an entire classroom for these exams, knowing that the school will be judged, my abilities would be judged, and the students will be scrutinized. Yikes.

Don't ask me what we should replace testing with because I don't have a clue. I really don't spend much time thinking about it until I'm forced to. And even when forced, I try not to think about what we're doing, but instead work like mad to just get it over with.

Usually, we have our test in October and we meet up with dozens of homeschooling families from all over the county and the kids have a fun time visiting and accomplish a state requirement at the same time. But last October, Isabelle had two teeth pulled the day before the test. Truly, she was quite the trooper and handled the procedure and the aftermath with a grace and patience which belied her age. But there was no way I was asking the girl to sacrifice two teeth and then take a test. That would just be evil.

I have learned during the last two weeks that testing in October helps us to just get the thing over with much faster, and that there is no way we'll put it off again. I'd rather reschedule surgery than the test. I think Isabelle agrees with me, too. She came out of prep session today with glazed eyes and stated, "My brain hurts."

Blech.

rainy day

I adore waking up to a grey, overcast sky. To me, it is such a cozy feeling to be enveloped in the murky light, to be forced to use lamps in the middle of the day, and to have an excuse to put off any and all errands we can in order to stay inside.

Today, we left home only because a concert pianist was at Camp Manatawny and, as opportunities to hear classical piano live for free are few and far between, there is no way I was going to skip it. But since we've been home, we have read chapters of The Penderwicks, snacked on bell peppers and hummus, watched The Tale of Desperaux, enjoyed some group Zumba, indulged in waffle cones stuffed with ice cream, and are now in the throws of preparing to watch Harry Potter 7: Part 1.

Snowy days are wonderful, but they are not relaxing as there are 8 children to help get into snow gear and then 8 children to help get out of their snow gear and then 8 sets of wet snow gear to deal with while simultaneously filling chilly bodies with hot cocoa. Don't get me wrong -- it is a lot of fun. But it is also a lot of work.

Rainy days mean no one wants to go outside. We're not really the splashing in puddles kind of fam. We are more the eat as simply as possible and stay cozy inside the dry house kind of crew. And I love it. A rainy day is my mom-version of a snow day when I was a kid. I would really struggle if we ever moved to Portland. I would think I was "off" all the time.

One of the kids just came over and asked if we could have popcorn for dinner. Popcorn for dinner? Sure, why not.