A decade.

Autumn bliss today. While all four boys headed to campus for the Purdue game, Tess and I took off for our very first girl outing - a baby shower for a dear friend. While she has some social etiquette -ahem - yet to learn, today gave me a great glimpse into some future fun with my only girl. Success overall. I think she handed half-eaten and well-licked favors to only about half a dozen strangers. And, only one food item went back onto the platter with a bite taken out of it. All things considered, that's a good showing for the three year old, folks.

Oh, and the guest of honor's mother wasn't offended one bit when Tess walked up to her, ran her chubby fingers through her perfectly salon-set hair and proclaimed loudly, "Your hair is kinda crazy, Grandma!" Thinking back to how this could have played out six months ago... not bad, girlie, not bad.

All of that snacking and uplifting conversation wore her out, so she sleeps. The boys are still gone and house is currently the quietest it's been in weeks, so I decided to use the time to take some pics off of my camera. Great September memories, especially of our new ten year old boy!

He was ten at the end of August, but because his heart was set on certain guests in attendance for his party, we had to wait until Labor Day to get everyone here.

A Pokemon party for Jack! My boys full well know my aversion to spending money on things like rocks (really?!) and Pokemon cards, but I finally came around to the fact that there are worse things in life.

Why the heart change, you ask?

I suddenly remembered Garbage Pail Kids.

For crying out loud, how we ever got away with collecting those politically incorrect things (and then trading them in the back church pew - while chomping our gum - in the middle of the sermon) is beyond me. Go ahead boys, loose three teeth, then take your bucks to buy a Pokemon pack, I say. Seems like a lot of hard work for a bunch of cardboard nonsense if you ask me, but I'd much rather have Tess going around the house repeating phrases like,

"I trade you a hundred damage, Chaser," all proud acting like she knows her stuff, instead of overhearing one liners like, "Hey, why that baby have a bomb exploding out of his head?"

Seriously. Mom? Anyone?

Oh dear, where were we?

Oh yes, the Pokemon party was planned and ready to go, with lots of games plotted out ahead of time to make sure no one was bored. Pokemon Bingo, Pin the Tail on Pikachu, Design Your Own Pokeball, plus detailed instructions on how to draw your favorite Pokemon character step by step.

Turns out, ten year olds do a fine job entertaining themselves (ahh... I knew I liked this age!). I've never hosted a quieter, simpler party. And we never played even one of the games I had planned. Eight boys escaped upstairs with their Pokemon cards in hand, and I never heard a peep out of them for the next two hours. Sweet.

At one point I got worried that Tess might be up crashing the boys' fun, so I went upstairs to check on her. This is where I found her. Reason #147 why Bjorn fits in so well around here.

He arranged (completely symmetrical to no surprise) and lit his own candles, and at that moment I realized just how much he is growing up. This boy who was once such a handful has become one of the greatest joys of my life. Ask me about that story sometime, and I'd be happy to tell you how very good God is. With God, there is much hope in parenting, and in life.

Ah, the quiet is officially over... the boys all just piled back into the house, sweaty and happy after the Purdue win and a stop afterwards at B-Dubs. Nothing like a little football and a few father/son hot wing challenges to make your Saturday complete.

They've been home for fifteen minutes and Tyler is already asleep on the couch. How men do that surrounded by such chaos I'll never know.

More to catch up on soon!

Beware... it's too late to type a post that makes any sense.

Not sure if these guys are watching March Madness or Food Network... you have a pretty good chance of catching one or the other most evenings at our house these days. I got a kick out of how they are sitting exactly the same. Great thing is, that is only the beginning of the similarities they share. I love their closeness and their ability to relate to each other. And their crazy skilled analytical sides mixed with a level of compassion that might be somewhat hidden, but is severely loyal. And one day, Jack is gonna show up his wife in the kitchen, and she's gonna love it.

Notice Jack's new glasses too! Pretty handsome, I must say. Yep, these are the ones that replaced the broken ones that snapped when he and his two year old sister were playing "Dog". Don't ask. Only my sisters will get a good laugh out of that. Apparently playing "Dog" knows no generational barriers. Ha. Anyway, the only bad thing about these frames is that it makes my nine year old boy suddenly look about thirteen. Not right.

School conferences were last week, and you'll be glad to know that I didn't cry this time. Not in front of anyone anyway. So proud of my boys. Both boys got all A's, minus Trey's 89% B in Writing. He writes beautifully when he wants to. It's just that he really can't be bothered by it. He's our only lefty so far, and he doesn't mind to smear and slant as he goes. He shoves his papers in his backpack until they're all crumbly, too, but it's small things like this that make him love life in a carefree sort of way. Write however you want to, Treyman. You can type everything when you get older. Now I have to fork over eleven bucks - a dollar for every A - and I'll try not to think about it going towards buying rocks at Von's, or worse yet, Pokemon cards.

In other exciting news, we started a DIY house project today. I love the thought of this, and I even remember a time when it was completely romantic to tackle some sort of creative home improvement challenge with my husband. But fourteen years and four kids later, these projects don't go as quickly or as uninterrupted for us as they used to. So now, I have the great ideas (ok, truth is, Tyler always has better ideas that trump my initial starter ideas), and Tyler gets to follow though while I wipe bottoms monitor small children in another part of the house. It's the office this time, and I have a feeling that we've started something that I like to call the slippery slope. I'm sure you've experienced what I'm talking about. The closet organizing turns into new custom shelves that turns into the organizing of another closet to fit stuff that doesn't fit in the old closet anymore (hmm... might need new custom shelves for that closet too, hon). Then I'll need new storage bins and a new paint color, and now the curtains don't match and the furniture looks dull against the new curtains. And you can't get this far without another bookshelf and new accessories to complete the look.

*Note to Tyler: this slippery slope will NOT somehow result in a new flat screen TV for the living room. It just won't.

See, I told you I had all the great ideas... right babe? If you need me, I'll just be downstairs.

One last exciting something to announce before I call it a night. Coming next week to Raisin' 4... wait for it... our very first giveaway!! I feel so blog-official all of a sudden. Stay tuned to see what we'll be giving away!

Getting in our 20 minutes a day...

The Bachelor

So I walk in the door from work and Whitney grabs the camera to show me a picture she took earlier in the day. I'm expecting a cute shot of Tess. Or Chase making a silly face. Maybe even a picture of Trey losing another loose tooth. Instead, it was the latest work of our eldest bachelor, Jack.

She didn't need to explain the picture. To know Jack is to know that this is his mind at work. I haven't asked him why he did this, and I won't. I prefer to just consider the possibilities.....

• Lazziness? -- obviously not. Way more work to make the note
• Sarcasm? -- doubtful. Not sure he understands the concept, yet
• Helpfulness? -- Whitney says no!
• Hygeine? -- strong possibility. Dirty underwear devastates him

In the end, I like to think he just applied what few man-law concepts he has learned (and probably observed, regretfully) and left himself a reminder for when he needs his next clean pair. Sort of genius, I think. He's well on his way to becoming an excellent bachelor.

Stable Jack...

I was sorting through pictures tonight and ran across this one from Jack's 8th birthday party. It made me stop in my tracks for some reason. At first I thought it was because he's not wearing his glasses. Then I realized how old and tall he looks. I smiled too at the thought of him losing his grown-up, academic self for the party... how I loved watching him actually act his age: carefree and full of energy. I tried to wrap my mind around his new relationship with deodorant and his desire to take morning showers instead of nighttime baths. My boy is growing up.

I admired this group of eight-year old school friends, and wondered who he would be hanging out with when he's fifteen. And what kind of influences they would be to him, and he to them. Then that got me thinking about his conviction over lyrics of a song on the school bus this week, and my phone call to the bus driver that followed.

Friends, choices, convictions, growing up. Then I decided to stop thinking.

I don't write so much about Jack on the blog, I've noticed. It's not that there's not a lot going on with him, or that I don't follow him as closely. It's just that he's...

stable.

Obviously not without some habits that need some continued, clear training. He's far from perfect. But I'm really enjoying him and his stableness. He has a clear sense of who he is and what's expected of him. He's able to do so many things on his own, and requires less direction than the other three. We have intelligent, meaningful conversations on everything from computer games to God. He still tells me everything. He wants to help me cook dinner.

He was three once, and not so stable. And trust me, when he wasn't stable, neither was I. Who knows which came first, but God used that time to teach both of us a lot about ourselves. And now, just this week, I've told his story twice to two weary moms (to guess what... three year olds!). And I was able to encourage them that eventually, with lots of discipline, consistency, patience, prayer, and grace, God can take a three year old...

and make him stable.

At least for this week (sometimes I leave that part out...heh.).

Classified Ad: Wanted

• snacks..........check
• flame thrower..........check
• super strength coat..........check
• dynamite..........check

Say...does anybody have a boulder axe we could borrow?

Miss Maddie

I am one thorough mom when it comes to homework. One of my favorite times of the day is when the boys get home from school and we get to review the completed papers shoved in their backpacks. So you know I had to ask Jack just who he was referring to when he wrote this little note on his paper. I was just sure he was thinking of his Mom when these sweet traits came to his mind. But after inquiring who he thought was "nice" and "preety," I realize now that I have some competition. Her name is Maddie, and she's smart too. And blond. I think I'm going to suggest to his teacher that he needs a little more work at his desk to keep him busy. Yeah, that's it. Let's keep him real busy.

Jack is 7!

Jack at age 3

(with control issues, a huge vocabulary and a big heart!)

Jackie in our backyard this summer

(I swore I would never call him that!)

Jack turned seven years old yesterday, and for the first time I'm wishing that time would just stand still. So I'll admit it - all of you seasoned parents are right. The saying, "They grow up so fast" really is true after all. I'm feeling it. For the mom with four kids in six years, I had kind of been hoping for this day - the day of greater independence. And now that it's here, it's making me a little sad. He's too big. Too smart. Too impressionable. Too aware of the world around him. And darn it, Tyler and I can't spell words back and forth in secret anymore! Jack has come a long way, baby. I'm really enjoying this little person, the leader. I see God developing his gifts. He's grown in compassion and patience. He's learning that no one but Jesus is perfect. He knows that life isn't fair, but God gives more grace. He's figured out that the world doesn't revolve around him, but that it's hard to not want it to. There's still hope for me, though. My grown-up seven year old ran in from the bus this afternoon, jumped in my arms, squeezed me hard (for longer than any 7 year old cool guy would admit to his buds), and whispered in my ear, "Missed you today, Mom." I missed you too buddy. Happy Birthday, my sweet boy.