Andrew was too pooped from rolling over for the first time to participate much:

But, Jack held a snake (and now wants one, to which Dan says, “NO WAY!”):

And there was, of course, face painting (because what else is there at a company picnic?):

The picnic was followed by Scout Camp Family Night.  Fun was had by all (well, the kids, anyway) and money wasted on food not eaten.

Jack demonstrated his skill with a BB gun while Maria tried her hand at it:

And Sam caught his first fish!!!

Apropos of nothing, Maria announced in the car today:  They say, “A rolling stone gathers moss.”

Me:  Umm, no.  It’s ‘A rolling stone gathers NO moss.’

Maria:  Are you sure?

I answered her that, yes, I was sure and I explained the reason why a rolling stone gathers no moss.

Me:  Moss grows in shady places, on things that don’t move, like trees and stones and stuff.  In the forest.

Maria:  But what if the stone is rolling?

Me:  *Big sigh* Then it doesn’t grow moss.  It’s rolling.  Moss doesn’t have a chance to grow on it.

Luke:  What if it’s a really big stone?

Me:  It doesn’t matter.  If it’s moving, moss won’t grow on it.  Moss only grows on things that DON’T MOVE.

Jack:  Then what if it stops moving?  Will the stone grow moss?

Me:  *Bigger sigh* Yes.  Then it might grow moss.

Maria:  But then what if it starts rolling again?  What if it rolls for a while then stops.  Like for 5 years.  Will it grow moss?

Me:  I don’t know.

Maria:  Then what if it starts rolling again.  Will the moss get knocked off?

Me:  Forget about it.  I’m done talking about stones and moss.

Photo: Moss And Stones by Petr Kratochvil

Despite times like those, I still have to say that I am happy to be the mom of five children.  What better gift to give a child than another sibling?

Simcha says it perfectly here.

At first, I was disappointed that none of our family members could make it here for the baptism of our fifth child.

Then, I realized, our family did make it!

The Remicks were able to come a few days early, so we managed to spend some quality time together.

Bergen and Luke

Jack and Keegan

Maria and Zoe

Carsten and Andrew

Sam and Bergen

Luke was not left out. He's behind the pillar.

(More pictures can be seen by clicking the Flickr badge in the left hand column of this page.)

We are so thankful to have such wonderful friends and that they were able to make the long trip to be with us.  Kyle, Troy, Keegan, Bergen, Carsten, Zoë – we miss you already!!!

We’ve really had a great time hosting visitors this summer.  We have plenty of room, so if you haven’t yet, call today for a reservation!

Early morning discussions ran the gauntlet, from travel routes to why Lotsa didn’t get strapped to the grill to which is grosser to clean – barf or poop.  Katey and I agreed that barf topped the list, especially when it covers the room, as it did last night when Lukie got sick.  Seriously, it looked like something exploded.  I’m sure being on the top bunk didn’t make things easier.

So, Dan and I cleaned the boys’ room – quite literally – from top to bottom today.  I don’t think we’ll be having s’mores for dessert again anytime soon.

Yep, I thought, barf is the worst to clean up.

Thankfully, Luke stopped puking around 11 this morning.  Ah… the worst was over.  (Learned from experience last weekend when Jack was sick.  At Grandma’s.  And in the car on the trip home.)

Later this evening, while Dan was out Rug Doctoring the cars (we wanted to get our money’s worth out of the rental), I picked Andrew up and discovered that some poop had leaked up his back.  No biggie – just a little poop.  Way better than sick-kid barf.

As I started running water in the sink for his bath, I called Lukie to get started on his shower.  I figured he needed to wash off any remaining barf before heading to bed.

But before I could get Andrew undressed for his bath, Luke tearfully emerged from the bathroom.

“Mom…*snif* I have to tell you something.”

“What, Sweetie?” I replied.

“I was going pee before my bath [standing like usual] and this just came out of my butt without me even knowing it.  *snif*”

I dared to look.

Projectile poop, people.  Among other things, he shot the shower curtain.

I think I changed my mind on the clean up detail.  Poop is worse.  Or, at the very least, just as gross.

P.S. To the Remicks:  Please don’t be scared.  I promise to have everything clean and disinfected before your visit next week!

Before leaving the house, I made sure everyone used the potty, had on their swim suits, and had their towels and flip flops.

Thankfully, my friend was right and the pool, despite the hot day, wasn’t all that crowded.  I felt pretty good about being able to keep an eye on everyone as we settled in and found a chaise for our stuff and some shade for the baby.  I doled out the goggles, laid down the law, and sent the kids toward the pool.  As I watched them, I pulled out my phone to call my sister back, as she’d called right when we were arriving.

I talked to my sister for, oh, about 3 minutes, before Luke came running/hopping/dancing toward me in a panic.  “I have to go poop!” He yelled.

“You have GOT to be kidding me,” I said, as I quickly ended the conversation with my sister.

“I HAVE to go,” he told me.  And, so, I scanned the area for Sam and grabbed him from the pool.  I plucked a mini pack of wipes from my bag.  I put the stroller into motion, and we headed to the bathroom.

“Here,” I told Luke, as I handed the wipes to him.  “I’ll wait right here.”  (Just outside the bathroom door, within site of the pool so I could watch for Jack and Maria.)

“You have to go with me!”  Luke told me.  “I can’t.  I have to watch for the others and I have the baby.  Go in, go poop, clean yourself up and come right back out.  Don’t talk to anyone,” I instructed.

Off he went.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Starting to panic, I found Jack and sent him in to check on his brother.  A few seconds later, he came back out and told me, “He’s fine!”

Still, we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And then…

…here comes Luke, swimsuit around his ankles, waddling out of the bathroom, telling me he needs me.

“Pull up your pants!!!” I screeched.

“But I need you!” he told me.

“I can’t come in there.  It’s the boys bathroom!  Clean yourself up the best you can and GET YOUR PANTS ON!” I told him.

Off he waddled, back into the bathroom.

We waited again.

And waited.

And here came Luke again.  STILL WITH HIS PANTS DOWN.  (This is the child that worries that someone might see his privates after stepping from the bathtub at home.)

I rushed over to him and told him that he MUST pull up his swimsuit.  “But… but… but…” he sputtered.  “Just pull it up and come out.  We’ll find the family restroom and get you cleaned up.”

Finally, Luke came out fully suited.  We walked back across the pool area so I could get some more wipes from my bag and, before I turned around, Sam was gone… back into the pool.

Cursing under my breath, I hollered for Sam to come back out.  Got him dried off again, and explained that we had to find the other bathroom for Luke.

I checked on Maria and Jack and then took the baby, Luke and Sam to the other side of the pool area where the family bathroom is.  It, of course, was occupied.  We stood there for a minute or two before I aborted the plan and dragged the boys off to the women’s locker room. Knowing that my boys can’t keep their comments to themselves, I was thankful that there was no one in there in a state of undress.

I parked Sam and the baby in front of a stall and then took care of getting Luke cleaned up.  Not to give out too much info (little late for that, eh?) but he was pretty clean.  There was certainly nothing that warranted all the panic on his part.  But whatever.

We scrubbed our hands and I hustled everyone out of there.

Back at the pool, I checked on Jack and Maria and sent Luke and Sam back off to swim. For the 7 minutes left until adult swim.

“Really,” I thought to myself.  “You can’t make this stuff up.”

Playing

Best buds!

Secondly, my poor baby had to get THREE shots today.  He was M-A-D, but his brother Luke was there to soothe him.  Oh, and for those keeping track, we’re up to 12 pounds, 11 ounces and 23 inches long.  Also, his head circumference is only in the 30th percentile – normal for him, but tiny for an H baby!!!

Finally, what is it with boys and guns?  EVERYthing can be made into a gun when you’re a boy – sandwiches, Lego, blocks, tape – you name it.  Jack started a little later with this, as he didn’t have older brothers and Star Wars yet to influence him.  Luke picked it up quicker with Jack in the lead and Sam even earlier.  But, who’da thought Andrew would be holding a gun at 2 months?!?  (Created by and placed in his brother’s hand by Luke Henry.)  (And, no, he wasn’t shot in the forehead… he just scratched himself earlier today.  Almost looks like a crime scene photo, though, doesn’t it?)

Baby's First Gun

Boys and their Toys*

*The one to the far left is not mine, in case you’re wondering, but he might as well be

The menu:  Flank steak, potatoes, biscuits and milk (This is big, people.  I don’t cook much.)

Thinking ahead, I preheated the oven so the potatoes could go in around 4:30 and we could eat around 5:30.  Around 5:15 or so, I wander into the kitchen to start getting the steak ready for broiling.  And see the potatoes sitting on the counter instead of in the oven where I thought they were.

Shit.

I put the potatoes in and change my plans to eat around 6:30.  Might even work out better, as Dan should be home by then.

I put a conveniently sleeping baby into his bed for a nap.

At 6:30, I pulled the steak and potatoes out and put the biscuits in.  Set the table with Jack.  Baby still sleeping – yes!.  No Dan, but I set a plate for him anyway, thinking he’d be home mid-dinner.

As usual, anticipating whatever, I wolf down my meal.  As I finish my biscuit, the baby starts to cry.  Sam declares he is finished also, and is excused to play in the basement.

I leave Maria, Jack and Luke to finish their meals.  As I walk away to get the baby, I think about how nice tonight’s dinner has gone and how well everyone is behaving.

Thinking Dan should be home any second, I change the baby and settle in to feed him.  While he’s on the boob, Sam comes running up the stairs yelling that he needs to poop.  “So, go!” I tell him.

Jack yells from the kitchen, “Maaaaa—oooom!” (How I hate that sing-song calling of my name from another room.)  “Maria is eating another piece of steak!”  (The only steak left on the table is on Dan’s plate.)  I choose to ignore this, as there’s more steak on the stove.

Then, “Maaaaaa—–oooooommmmm!  Luke’s touching me with his steak!”

I yell back, “Luke, you’re finished.  Clear your plate and get into the shower.”

While Luke is in motion, I hear a cup hit the floor and ten a holler from Jack.  He has spilled his milk.  “I’ll clean it!”  He yells.  “You’re damn right,” I think, knowing, though, that I will have to clean up behind him.

Before I can take a breath, Sam hollers from the bathroom that he’s finished and needs me to wipe him up.  Baby is still on the boob and Dan is still not home.  I holler back that he needs to sit and wait.

Baby finishes.  I clean Sam up.  I supervise Jack’s cleaning of the spill.

And Dan gets home.

And I wanted to cry.  At over 10 lbs., Andrew has outgrown these tiny diapers.  So much so, that it’s hard to believe he wore them just a few weeks ago.

He is growing too fast for me.  I love snuggling with him, chest to chest.  And I love all of his squeaky baby noises.  And how he can sleep just about anywhere.

Already he is staying awake more and paying more attention to his surroundings.  He even smiled for me the other day, which thrilled me, but again made me sad.

I look around at all the other babies born to the preschool moms this year and can’t believe how big they all are.    I know that, come the return of school, they’re all going to think the same about Andrew.

Maybe I should become a nanny for newborns only.   Accept them for just the first four months or so.  Then I could have a steady stream of itty-bitty baby-ness and I wouldn’t be so sad to see Andrew grow.