It's Over, Thank Goodness

They've changed a bit since last year, eh?

Hey- Pipes is wearing the exact same skirt!  It's a bit more warn now...

Let us do some comparisons from the beginning of the school year, shall we?

Adi: before

Adi: now

Pips: before

Pips: Now

Porter: before

 Porter: now

And finally, Wy-Fi: before

Wyatt: now (one cool little dude who will actually let me take a picture of him... if he's in a cooperative mood)

I had the kiddos bring out their favorite books from this year so that I could document them.

 

That's not really Wyatt's favorite book.  He just grabbed one off his floor.

Thank heavens this school year is over!  Yeah for having my four little chickies home with me all day... driving me insane :)

I really, really, really love these wonderful little farts.

Wyatt decided he was too cool for group pics, but allowed me to snap one more pic of him.

Now... onto the hot, hot endless days, hours of boredom, fights, begging, screaming, and fun!

Cap and Gown

A few weeks ago, Porter came home with a few sheets of these

Cap and gown pics.  And while that smile is enough to make me want to buy a million sheets of these, I didn't buy any.

Why?  Because I am soooo against graduation-themed stuff for kindergarten.   I mean, does a kid really need all of this pomp and circumstance for getting into the first grade?

Porter-Pot's school held a graduation ceremony for kindergarten today, and I begrudgingly went to it.

I didn't do my usual get-there-forty-minutes-early-to-save-the-best-seat-in-the-house thing I normally do.

Boy oh boy, do I regret that.

Because as soon as my buddy boy came strutting up on that stage, the waterworks came on.  Yeah, yeah, I cried through the whole thing.

And I so, so, so wish that I could have gotten more pictures of him.

This is P.G. doing the Bubble-Mouth Duck-Tail they teach these youngsters to do.

Such an obedient lil' boy... at school.

I had to go duck-running up the aisle to get this close of a picture :)

Wyatt was kept busy watching Fireman Sam on my phone and slowly chewing his way through a pack of rootbeer float flavored gum that Nana bribed him with.

Here's my boy recieving his diploma.

After the mini ceremony was over, the teachers played "Celebrate!" while the kiddos danced.  Porter, a Merrill through-and-through, chose to stand still and play with his diploma.

I love that smile.

Hi Nana!

Mrs. Lukens is one of Porter's most favorite people.

So much so that he's convinced himself that she will be his teacher next year.  I, personally am going to seriously miss this awesome lady myself.

A few of PG's friends that we could find.

We a tried a self portrait.  I am no good at selfies.

As it turns out, I kinda like kindergarten graduations.

Unconditional

 Me and my mommy in San Francisco

Mother's Day is on the horizon.  Oh- the emotions that come with this day.

I realize that this particular year, alone, isn't anything huge.  We've all had many a Mother's Days.  I personally have been the center of attention on this day 10 times now.

But this year it's different. 

This past year I have finally begun to sit comfortably in this motherhood role of mine.  No longer do I crawl into bed recounting everything I did wrong that day.  Worrying if I have ruined my children for life.  I have finally started to push aside the comparisons that inevitably weigh me down... I am beginning to accept that I am the mother that my children need, flawed as I am.

Do I hum merry tunes as I cook gourmet meals, help with homework, and clean out the fridge all at the same time?  Of course I do!

If, of course, you mean that:
humming a merry tune= mumbling rather loudly about how messy it always is
gourmet meals= salad bar (the laziest meal that I can make that 5/6 of my family eats)
helping with homework= a lot of sighing and glances at the clock
clean out fridge= finally taking out the glass jars full of nasty chopped romaine lettuce and promptly throwing them away because who really wants to clean those out?

No.  I am not the World's Best Mom.  I can't go an entire day without taking at least 25 minutes to hide somewhere in my house where my kids can't find me and just. be. alone.

Occasionally my children have Little Ceaser's Pizza for dinner.   Once a week.  Sometimes twice.

The main floor of my house is set up in a perfect "o" shape, which makes for easily escaping children when they come down the stairs with their tattling voice on.  I fully take advantage of this design and often run around in a giant circle, successfully avoiding that whining child.

I put margarine on my children's waffles.

I wait for a kiddo to back talk me so that I can get some free baseboard cleaning out of the offender.


I forget to give the kids their vitamins.  A lot.

I pretend not to see rule-breaking so as to avoid having to hand out punishments.

I only pay allowance once in a blue moon.  Sometimes not even then.

Yes, I'm idling quite farther down on the motherhood chart than I ever thought I would. But there's something so wonderfully magical about accepting yourself and, while not completely giving up on improving, actually focusing on the things you do right.

I break into horribly embarrasing dance and song routines randomly that make my kiddos run to me and boogey down under my flailing arms.

We celebrate birthdays rather awesomely around these here parts.

Every night I tuck each and every one of my little wiggly babies into bed by asking them what the best part of their day was.  I kiss their forehead, the cute little spot right inbetween their two blue eyes, and the tip of their button noses.

I buy marshmallow fluff.


I am completely awesome at British accents when reading Harry Potter out loud.

I'm even better at mouse-squeaking while reading Mouse and the Motorcycle.

Not to brag, but my dinosaur roaring while reading How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight was authentic enough to make Wyatt absolutely terrified of the giant lizards.  And roaring in general.

So, these aren't big deals.  They aren't something that will get pinned 3 million times on Pinterest.  I won't end up on the cover of Time for these efforts. 

But when I look back at my childhood, these are the types of the things that I remember.  I remember a Mom who gave me her Avon Baby Soft perfume when she caught me sneaking into her room to breath in as much of that stuff as I possibly could.

I remember a Mom that listened to me lament on how much I wanted a persian kitty in the fourth grade.  Every day.  For three months.

I remember a Mom that taught me and my friends how to do The Twist.

A Mom that believed in me: she told me how smart, how creative, how good I was.

A Mom that slept on the floor of my room by me when I was sick.


There's this uncomfortable shift that begins to happen in your perspective when your children become an age that you remember being.  No longer do you see things from your limited view when you look back to your childhood.

You see from your mom's.

I can only imagine the times my mom wanted to hide from my dramatic fits.

How many times she had to scream into a pillow when I would tell her the night before that I had a huge report due the next day.

I'm sure she wanted to lock me outside when I would correct her non stop in front of people.

She had to have considered leaving me at the zoo when I wouldn't just clean my stinking room already!

Yet... here I am today.  A person.  A (for the most part) functioning member of society.

Mom:  you did good.  I grew up loved.  I grew up happy.  I grew up knowing that I had a dependable family. 

I've made so many parts of my childhood part of my children's lives.  We celebrate holidays the way they were meant to be: BIG.  We eat birthday cake for breakfast.  We do fancy-schmancy hair dos.  We laugh loudly.  We love loyally.  We are together, all of the time.  Family is always first.

These are the things that I loved about my childhood.

The things I long to share with my kids.

Thank you, Mom, for being strong enough to try another day.

Thanks for holding me when I cried over everything (I really was quite dramatic).

Thanks for always being on my side.

Thanks for the Halloween costumes, the birthday parties, the Neil Diamond songs in the car.

Thanks for the laughter.

Everything that I do right as a mother now is based off of what you taught me.  Yes, my parenting style differs in many ways from yours.  But I love my children the way that you loved me:

Absolutely unconditionally.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

Dancing the Night Away

 This time of year is quite hectic for everyone, and we are absolutely no exception.

But amid the book reports, field trips, and testing, there is one shining event that I love:

Dance Recitals.

It's just so gratifying to see the culmination of those hours upon hours of shuffling girlies back and forth from dance (not to mention the dollar dollar bills that have been applied toward it).

But... because my cheapness is near debilitating, I decided to forgo paying for the professional photos that were taken that day.  Instead, I hung up a black curtain in my loft and took my own.  Like I said: uber cheapness.

Do you like the fold lines in the "backdrop"?

Adi's class dance was to "Tell Me Something I Don't Know".  And she hated the costumes.  She said that she looked like a space alien.

Personally, I thought they were adorable.

Pip's dance was to "Let's Hear it For The Boy".  Thus the country-style.

My goofy girls.

Of course, Porter Pot wouldn't be left out.

Did I mention that I convinced a couple of friends to go on the cheap side with me?

There was no photography or recording allowed during the performance, but I did smuggle my camera backstage and snapped a few pics.

It really is awesome having you best friend forever in your dance class with you.

After the completely awesome performance, we snapped a few pics outside.
 

Nana and Papa brought the girlies some beautiful flowers.

We were a little terrified of bringing Wy-Fi to the performance, but he actually loved it.  Adi and Pipes were in the very first number, and since I got there an hour and a half early to save seats (oh yeah, I am that dedicated) we had rocking seats.  Wyatt could clearly see his sisters shaking their groove thangs.  After that, he kept shushing everyone around him, saying, "Shhh!  Piper dance!"

As you know, Wyatt calls both of his sisters "Piper".