A Bag of Beans and a Baby

My favorite thing about toddlers is how easily they can be entertained. That being so, yesterday when R and I found ourselves with some one-on-one time, we opened a bag of beans and went to town...

At first, she wasn't quite sure if she should touch them or not, but she got over it pretty quickly

And then, of course, decided that the best course of action was to eat them

Once we had gone through several rounds of "no-no Rogue" and she realized that 1) she could make a noisy mess and 2) I was going to cheer like a mad man every time she picked up even one bean and put it in a container, she came to the reasonable conclusion that beans are the coolest toy on the planet.

Until she noticed that I was taking her picture, and then my camera was the coolest toy on the planet.

So thankful for one-on-one time with this kid.

Memories

Last night we went to Creamers Field for family date night. We were checking out some cranes when I spotted this plaque:

It says "Dedicated to the loving memory of Callie Mae Thomas, Fairbanks resident from 1955-2006, Callie loved the birds and Creamers Field and ice cream, all in one day". I thought that it was such a cute plaque -- the perfect balance between serious and whimsical rememberance of someone passed from this life.
I think a lot about what The Fire Team will remember about me when I've passed from this life. I'm sure that no one else is so obsessive about this, and I concede that the obsession may spawn from my own losses, but I am constantly reminded of the fact that I have no control of my childrens memories. As much as I could that I could erase my short tempered moments, laundry piled up, and cereal for dinner days from their memory and replace it with road trips, belly laughs, and family dates, I can't. All I can do, I suppose, is pray that the good memories outshine the not-so-good memories, and be more mindful to make the memories that I want them to have. And, of course, take them out for ice cream and bird watching more often.

Here are a couple more pictures from our date...

Seriously...Alaska in the Summer...how'd we get lucky enough to live here?

P was really brave about getting up there, but not so sure about getting down. Such is life with this girl! 

A Son

Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid; one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory.

Build me a son whose wishbone will not be where his backbone should be; a son who will know Thee and that to know himself is the foundation stone of knowledge. Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort, but under the stress and spur of difficulties and challenge. Here let him learn to stand up in the storm; here let him learn compassion for those who fail.

Build me a son whose heart will be clean, whose goal will be high; a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men; one who will learn to laugh, yet never forget how to weep; one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past.

And after all these things are his, add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor, so that he may always be serious, yet never take himself too seriously. Give him humility, so that he may always remember the simplicity of greatness, the open mind of true wisdom, the meekness of true strength.

Then I, his father, will dare to whisper, “I have not lived in vain.”

-General Douglas MacArthur

(I found this while I was looking for quotes for a craft project and I just couldn't get over it.)

This is What Happens When You Underestimate a Toddler

When the big kids were one I remember thinking how big they seemed to me, mostly because I had no basis for comparison. Now that R is one and I have a five-year-old and a three-going-on-thirty-year-old, she seems much more baby-ish to me. That being said, I often forget about what she is capable of doing physically (like her new habit of just standing up in her high chair when she's done eating). My tendency to forget really backfired yesterday when I bought P a marshallow dream bar (Starbucks name for a Rice Krispy Treat) as a treat while we were out on girls day. While I was loading groceries into the car I put the bar, in the bag, on the back of the cart, presumably out of R's reach, only to turn around and see this:

That's right, her two little front teeth allowed her to chomp off a corner before I could (take this picture and...) get it from her. But oh well, she worked hard for it, lived to tell about it, and gave me this great photo op for her scrapbook!

R is ONE!

And there it is, ladies and gentleman! Just like that our baby girl is ONE!

Here's to the late night feedings, hugs and kisses, lost pacifiers, toothless smiles, messy diapers, countless tears, new discoveries, love, and adventures that have made Rogue Scout's first year all that I prayed for and more!

We love you, Sweet Baby R, and can't wait to see who you are growing in to!

Fire Team Highlights

John went back to work today. When we were putting the big kids to bed last night we were trying to prepare them for not seeing John when they woke up in the morning and they kept asking "so, he's going back to Afghanistan?". I kept telling them no, that he would just be working at his company, the building next to BN, which they are familiar with from FRG meetings, numerous trips to S1, etc. When it finally sunk in that I was talking about a building that she is intimately familiar with, P looked at me with confusion written all over her face and said "Daddy works there?". She had no idea.

Skip forward a few minutes from that conversation and P and I are talking about someone who was poisoned (yes, I know my kids talk about weird things -- do you know their parents?). Here's the play by play.

P: So, he was poisoned, like the Man in Black?
Me: What?
P: You know, like the Man in Black was poisoned on the train car in Pioneer Park?
Me: No, that was not the Man in Black, that was President Harding.
P: Oh, but the Man in Black is still dead, right?
Me: Yes, he's still dead
And then Gunnar pops out of bed and, in his super-sad-almost-in-tears voice, says "the Man in Black is dead?"
Seriously, I could not write this stuff.

In other news, Baby Rogue is one, and I'm not writing a big entry about it because I'm still sort of in denial. How did a year go by so quickly?

As If...

I can remember, vividly, a conversation that John and I had almost exactly two years ago, weighing the possibility of having another baby.

On Friday R will be one! I can't believe we ever debated bringing her sweet little soul into the world!

Five Years

When G was still a tiny babe in arms I remember reading somewhere that parents only truly have the first five years of a childs life to teach them all the things that they will need to navigate the world. Sure, after that point you can teach them the details, but by five, it claimed, they were already who they were going to be.
I remember panicking at the thought that John and I had five short years with this boy to instill the things that he would need to hold in is heart to navigate the rest of his life.
No pressure.
Fast forward two blinks of an eye and our time is up. The first five years with Gunnar are gone.
Every parent knows that every parent who went before them always says "it goes by so quickly, cherish each moment", and we have. I remember the first thought that went through my head the moment I saw him. I know exactly where he was standing when he said his first word. I remember that he still couldn't walk when John took him on his first "boys only" hunting trip. I can remember each of the 13 times he has been the reason we were sitting in the ER. I remember the way he cried when the sonographer told him he was having another sister, and the way his eyes lit up the first time he held her. I remember the dance we did the first time he read the word "bus". I remember the prayer he said faithfully for each year of his life that his dad was in Afghanistan.
I have cherished each moment, snapped every picture possible, memorized each adorably mispronounced word.
But, having just tucked into bed, for the first time, my five year old son, I wonder if I've done enough. Have I taught him enough about the real Jesus? Does he know how far a smile will go? Does he know that the best way to stand out in a crowd is to be honest and selfless and serve others? Have I "trained up a child in the way that he should go" so that "when he is older he will not part from it?"
If I'm honest with myself the answer is that I don't know. I don't know if we have done enough with the first five years. I pray that we have, but even if we haven't, we can't have those five years back. So now we dig into the details and watch the rest unfold.
A few days ago John heard the song "He's Mine" by Rodney Atkins for the first time. We shared a laugh about the line that says "I'll take the blame and claim him everytime". This speaks so truly to Gunnar, we agreed, because our son is always the one doing either the extremely right thing or the extremely wrong thing. Occassionally catching him doing the extremely right thing renews my faith that the unfolding will be a joy because our first five years have been intense and productive, full of lessons in morals and character, regularly opening God's Word and submitting our petition to Him.
The first five years with Gunnar have been such an adventure, such a blessing, that I can't even begin to fathom what the coming years will bring. I would venture to say that the one thing that I know for sure is that the adventure of raising Gunnar will continue to be enough to keep us faithfully entering the throne room of God, usually with petitions for patience :)

It Won't Be Like This For Long

So, I've been struggling a bit for the last few days. R has been having some nursing issues, and while I am blessed not to be sleep deprived (twelve hours of sleep with two wake ups consistently, thank you Gary Ezzo), I have been frustrated and taking some measures that I am normally opposed to taking. G has been testing the limits of being an adventurous boy, which results in a lot of screaming by his sister which is immediately followed by his rushing into the room to give me his side of the story and a good bit of time spent mediating (and often doling out punishment). And we've just been busy. I know that probably sounds weird, but we have been. So like I was saying, I've been struggling with enjoying this time and instead focusing on looking forward to the years when my children are all capable of walking, going to the bathroom themselves, and navigating their own differences. Then today there was a moment. I was in the kitchen cleaning the gigantic mess that had grown in there over the last few days, Rogue was sleeping peacefully in her swing, which is a major no-no in the McBean family, and Patton was screaming in the playroom while Gunnar laughed heartily in the background. I closed my eyes and breathed deep. And then, I suppose in showing me that He really can use anyone, Hootie spoke into my life. A Darius Rucker song came on the radio the spoke the moment perfectly..."It Won't Be Like This for Long". It won't. Really. It won't be like this for long. With my eyes still closed, the mechanical sounds of the swing and the screaming and laughing still ringing through the air, I imagined the days that are not very long away...hugging my grown child in an airport as they prepare to board a plane for college, or a mission, or the military...sitting in a pew watching my child become someone's husband or wife...answering the door of my immaculately clean house when my babies bring their babies to visit. Those days are not far away and I know that on each of them I am going to wish for this day...messy house, baby sleeping where she's not supposed to be, feeding my sweet baby in the quiet dark, hours spent reading and cuddling, brother and sister fighting and making up, endless opprotunities to shape the little people I've been entrusted with. It won't be like this for long. Thanks for the reminder Hootie.

Conversations with Gunnar

If I don't write these down now they will be lost forever and that would be a crying shame.

Today Gunnar asked me "Mommy, did you know that one of Jesus' special powers is that he's basketful?" When I asked him what that meant he said "It means he's really good at basketball".

While I was tucking P into bed G, who was supposed to be tucked into his own bed, came frantically running into her room to announce "Mommy, there was a huge jet outside my window". When I asked him how he saw the jet since he was supposed to be in his bed he gave me a furrowed eyebrow and said "I was out of my bed doing my robot dance".

We were having a conversation about animals that it is not safe to go near and G named lions. Then he said "But God will protect us from lions". I was thinking about how to respond and he asked "Only Daniel?". I was thinking for another minute and I could tell that he knew he had stumped me when he said "well, if I ever go near a lion I'll just wear sticky shoes so that I can walk on the roof and get away".

Later, we were having a conversation about some new rules that we will have once the new baby gets here. When I was telling him that "we" don't touch her face he interjected with "and we don't pick her nose"...

Seriously, what a mystery the four year old brain is...

A Humbling Conversation

This morning I was totally wrapped up in some task when my mom brain realized that Gunnar had gotten down from the table without being excused. The following conversation ensued...
Me: Gunnar, get back up to the table and finish your breakfast.
G: How did you know I got down?
Me: Because I'm the mom and I know everything.

Several minutes pass, during which G is dutifully eating his yogurt and watching our neighbors from the diningroom window.

G: Mom, do you know those neighbors? What are their names?
(Even though I don't know ANY of our neighbors, I look out to see exactly which neighbors he is talking about)
Me: No, sweetie, I don't.
G: See, so you don't know everything.

Who is more humbling than a four year old?

Three's Company Too?

I ate breakfast this morning. On my couch. While my kids played. Peacefully (okay that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but not much).

That is what inspired this blog.

While I was downing my Honey Bunches of Oats with bananas it occurred to me that I have been able to eat breakfast everyday for a whole week. There is no one to nurse, or hold, or put down for morning nap. I could speak, mean, and expect follor through on the sentence "play with your brother/sister for a few minutes while Mommy eats breakfast, and then I will play with you". Of course, as soon as I got the sentence out of my mouth my brain started rolling with questions like "if I had another baby what would I be doing right now?". So, at this point a lot of you are probably thinking "I didn't know that you were trying to have another baby". That's because we're not. We're not actively trying to have another baby, nor are we actively trying to prevent having another baby. But I have to admit that sometimes my heart aches for another baby or I wonder what a third McBean Offspring would be like. Of course, this is usually when my kids are asleep, looking cute and chubby with a little trickle of perspiration on their foreheads, because when they are awake and running around making a mess out of everything they can get their hands on I think "okay, this is definitely enough", or when we are out somewhere, just the three of us, doing something fun, something that they are finally old enough to do I think "if I had another baby I wouldn't be able to do this for them".
So, the debate continues. Would it be so horrible if we never had another baby? Absolutely not. We are blessed beyond measure and busier than we ever imagined with the two little people that we have had the opprotunity to make and raise. If there is not another McBean baby in God's plan, then we're happy right where we are.
But, we make such cute babies...