Sophie can read. Well, kind-of.

Sophia has discovered that she can read. Here are some of today's examples of her "reading."

The empty pretzel bag: "Mom! This pretzel bag says when it is empty moms have to go to the store and buy more pretzels. Yep. That's what it says on the wrapper."

My bottle of water when I told her I wouldn't share it: "But Mom, it says right here that this is FAMILY water so you have to share it with your family."

My ice cream free grocery list: "Oh thanks Mom. Thanks for putting ice cream on the list. That was really nice of you."

As strange as this may sound, I kind of have to respect her read what you want something to say stance. If nothing else, it is a very polite way to try to get what you want.

Thrifting.

We shop at the thrift store a lot. A lot a lot.

This is for three very good reasons:

1. We don't have a ton of money so it really helps us out to buy stuff at thrift store prices. 
2. I actually enjoy going in and seeing what I can find. 
3. I often find Pyrex on the cheap and that can never be a bad thing. 

Just within the last couple of weeks I have purchased a fall/winter wardrobe for Elinor and some warmer clothes to help get Violet into the next size. And, I probably only spent $15 for all of it.

And...you truly do just sometimes find yourself a little piece of awesome. 

Such as this. 

And yes....this is Sophia's new favorite book to read before going to bed. But really, who doesn't love a book about their very own uncontrollable rage?

The future princess.

Sophia told me tonight that she was going to marry a prince some day.

I told her that she would probably have to go to England first.

She replied with "Yeah, and I'm going to have to fight the evil wizard first too."

My response? "Well...there is that too."

Baby boy.

Connor turns eight today. Eight! It is hard to imagine that he has been with us for so long, yet I can barely recall a time when he wasn't here.

I love my little guy. He may drive me crazy and I still don't really understand how to be his mom, but he is all mine, and I wouldn't trade him for anything.

I've decided for his birthday to spare you all a rambling post about what an awesome, strange, aggravating, and interesting kid Connor is. If you've spent any extended time with him you know this. And we thank you for the additional prayers.

Instead, I thought I would share some of my favorite Connor photos.

 I still love this picture that my sister Jennifer took. 

 This is the one that we are pulling out on prom night. 

 The very first time Connor visited the campus with us in Fort Wayne. He fell in the fountain about three minutes after this picture was taken. 

 Gotta love his energy. 

My sweet smiling boy. 

 I just love that I caught him in a giggle on this one. 

 My inquisitive boy.  

 I think this picture truly captures who Connor is.

He is always thinking about something.

My handsome boy.

Happy 8th Birthday Connor!
We love you so much.  

Of Monsters and Kitty Cats.

Sometimes I don't enjoy living in a smaller town...mostly on days when Walmart is out of bananas or only has two kinds of bread left. Most of the time, however, I love it. And, I especially love it around any holiday. There is nothing quite like small town living when it comes to festivals and holidays. 

Today was trick or treat around town day in Atchison. Several of the businesses (around 30 of them) had candy for the kids. There was also a parade and some scarier fun this evening that we skipped out on. 

We took a little monster, a kitty cat, a spy, and a baby cow. I didn't really get any pictures of my spy and I didn't get great pictures of my baby cow - but I figure I can get those on Halloween. 

Here is my sweet little monster.

 And my sassy little cat. 

 Who may have partied a little too hard considering she fell asleep with a sucker in her mouth. 

 We lost our monster too. 

 And this has to be the world's most adorable cow...even without her hat. 

My bespectacled boy.

Connor got his new glasses today. And, I must say that in my completely unbiased opinion, he is one handsome boy. 

School Pictures

My kids are growing up.

I have mixed feelings about this, but guess it was bound to happen eventually.

Sophie Janes Do.

Lately living with Sophia has been a lot like living with Bob Dole. Truthfully, I haven't lived with the Doles for a while...or...you know...ever, but I have a pretty clear picture in my mind of what it would be like. Elizabeth would be really smart, bake delicious food, and give really good advice, and Bob Dole would talk about himself in the third person... a lot. Admit it. You had this same picture in your mind too.

Sophia has not only taken to talking about herself in the third person recently, she has almost created a new brand of person: the Sophie Janes.

I have not yet discovered exactly what the Sophie Janes plan to do with us after they complete their world domination, but I do know a lot about them thanks to my very own Sophie Jane.

As I am informed several times a day "Don't worry Mom, Sophie Janes.....

• have great balance. 
• are awesome at ballet. 
• almost never fall out of bed. 
• tell their moms or dads when they need to go potty. 
• can watch Daniel Tiger. 
• are great at buckling seat belts. 
• are great at holding bottles. 
• know how to swim. 
• like stories. 
• love to eat peppers. 
• cough into their elbows. 
• say I'm sorry when they accidentally run into someone in the store. 
• get to eat pumpkin bars. 

Strangely enough, I didn't realize I was worried about any of things. That may mean that one more super power of the Sophie Janes is to know what you are worried about even when you don't.

 And just in case the Sophie Janes do try to take over...I have it on good authority that Sophie Janes are scared of spiders...so we already know how to keep them in check.

Gone too soon.

One out of every four women has lost a child. Did you know that? I didn't and I am that one in four. In fact, my husband and I have lost four children in the womb. Four little ones that we will have to wait to hold. Four little ones whose faces we desperately want to kiss, and whose hands we want to hold. Four little ones that we will know in heaven. Four little ones that we will love perfectly there. 

October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. A month set aside to remember those parents who grieve their children lost in the womb, still born, or lost early in life. A month to remember those parents whose little ones were gone too soon. 

Let us also remember this month all those little ones lost in the womb, not by chance, but by choice. I yearn for a day when the children killed through abortion are mourned, valued, and loved as much as the children lost in the womb whose mothers desperately wanted them. 

You know someone who has lost a child in the womb or in infancy. You probably also know someone who has lost a child because of abortion. These women are your friends, your relatives, your pastor's wife, your waitress, your child's teacher, and many many others. 

Say a prayer for these women. All of these women. 

Pray for the women whose children have been lost. Pray that they would find healing and comfort. Pray that they would know that Christ has suffered all things for them and that His grace is sufficient. 

Pray for the women who made a choice to end their child's life. Pray that they would seek forgiveness and be healed. Pray that they too would know that Christ died for all their sins. All their mistakes.  

And while you are at it, pray for all mothers, especially those of us with little kids. Pray that we would serve in our vocations joyfully, teach our children the faith, and get more sleep. Because let's face it...what mom couldn't use more sleep? 

I am the winner!

Have you heard about the meanest mom competition? It is an ongoing battle between all moms to be the meanest most awful and horrible mother on the face of the planet. At least this is what I tell my kids every time they complain about something I am making them do/not letting them do.

The conversation always seems to go something like this:

Connor/Sophia: But, that't not fair. You are being really mean.
Me: I am trying to win the meanest mom competition. How do you expect me to win if I treat you fairly all the time?
Connor/Sophia: You aren't the meanest mom! You take care of us and that is really nice. You are never going to win.

A while back Connor and Sophia were playing one of their favorite games. It's called "Let's see who can scream the loudest at each other and in general be completely obnoxious!" This is not my favorite game. We were in the car on the way to the grocery store and there was a promise of ice cream in the works.

We stopped the car and I gently explained to them that because they decided to scream at each other at the top of their lungs, there would be no ice cream. I wasn't rewarding this kind of behavior with treats.

The tears came, the pleas of give us one more chance, the promises of doing better.

And yet, I was unmoved.

The next day we had a conversation like this:

Connor: It was really mean yesterday when you took away our ice cream. You didn't even give us a warning that you would take it away if we didn't quit.  You just did it.
Me: I don't have to give you a warning to stop screaming at each other. It is never an okay behavior.
Connor: You really are the meanest mom.
Me: Finally.

This kid has it rough. 

Can't you tell?

The Go Boat.

It started about three months ago with one simple phrase. Elinor was just learning how to talk, she had mastered Mama and Dada and the rest was pretty much gibberish. One should never assume, however, that a seven year old won't try to make sense of that gibberish. Especially when that seven year old is Connor. Since that day, it has become an obsession with he and Sophia. The Go Boat. Or...more aptly, the Go Boat trip.

As Elinor was talking in that mysterious language that only babies know and as Connor was listening he heard her say something that sounded like "go boat". When he asked her where she was going to go on the boat, she responded with "go boat I." That is his version of the story and the source of late night whispers between he and Sophia. The source of giant holes in my back yard. And, the source of me forever finding bags packed with clothing, stuffed animals, shoes, and toys around the house.

You see, when Connor heard Elinor say "go boat I" he drew the obvious conclusion that Elinor had a secret plan for them to take a trip on a boat that Elinor had created and named the Go Boat to a country that begins with the letter I. He explained this to Sophia and she was more than happy to climb aboard the crazy train and start planning for their world wide adventure.

Connor immediately made the assumption that when she said "I", Elinor was indicating that she wanted to take her boat to one of four places: Iceland, Ireland, Italy, or the Ivory Coast. After careful consideration, they decided that Italy was most likely the place. The reasoning behind this: Italy is shaped like a boot and Elinor does seem to like shoes (she truly does).

Then the preparation began.

Phase I:
They began packing bags and planning for the things they would need in Italy. Sunglasses, extra underwear, a nice sailor dress for Sophia and Elinor, and their favorite animals were shoved into bags and stowed in places like under the bed and in corners of the playroom.

Phase II:
Connor began studying my various cookbooks to find travel friendly recipes and also recipes that involved fish. He also began to ask me questions regarding the best way to store water.

Phase III:
Connor told me not to worry if I woke up one morning and they were all gone. It would just mean that they had left for the Go Boat trip and they would be back in a few weeks or months. (He was quite serious).

Phase III part b.:
I explained to Connor that if he so much as stepped outside in the middle of the night or tried to take his sisters with him that he would be grounded until the end of eternity and would never get to do anything fun ever again. I strictly forbid him to take the Go Boat trip until he was at least 18. (He begrudgingly agreed).

Phase IV:
Connor then began to try to figure out where Elinor had hidden her Go Boat. She indicated it was outside (one of her favorite words) and down (another favorite). So...he and Sophia did what any normal kids would do when looking for a giant boat meant to travel across the ocean...they began to dig holes in my back yard trying to locate it. I told them to stop digging holes and took away their shovels. They then concluded that Elinor must have already taken it to the Mississippi River (that is their selected point of origin for the trip).

Phase V:
This is our current phase. This is the phase where every time we get a box of any kind it is immediately transformed into a boat, filled with clothes, stuffed animals, bottled water, and sunglasses. The kids sit in the boat and study a map - searching to find the best route to Italy or Hawaii. They are thinking that it may be more fun to go there now. Plus, Connor figures that when Elinor said "Go Boat I" at the beginning of summer, she may have just meant that she wanted to come on the Go Boat and wasn't so particular about where they were going.

If you see Connor and Sophia whispering to each other in the corner and listen very closely, I can almost assure you that at some point you'll hear the phrase "the Go Boat." And, if you happen to see my seven year old, three year old, eighteen month old, and baby heading towards the Mississippi, please send them back home.

My budding investigatory reporter.

I'm not sure if it was from Sunday School or preschool, but somewhere Sophia was given a very small spiral notepad. Since that fortuitous moment, she has taken to walking around with it while taking all sorts of notes. 

This means that I now get to asked to explain in full detail every single thing that I am doing all day long. 

And, when she gets sick of asking me questions, she typically starts reporting back to me the notes she has taken. They are full of very helpful information including things like "girls should brush their teeth," "Connor is at school right now," "Violet is a girl," "cows say moo and sheep always say baa," and "babies wear diapers." 

Her notes also consist of all the television shows we have watched and which ones we are allowed to watch again. 

 Taking notes.

 And, if it makes her this happy, who am I to complain?

Plus, these notes definitely look like they might come in handy some day...like later this afternoon when I need to know if babies wear diapers and what television program we are ready for. 

The Sunday Shuffle

Sundays. Sundays can be rough, especially for this pastor's wife.

Preparation for Sunday morning begins on Saturday night. Clothes are laid out, bags are packed with carefully selected non messy snacks and quiet toys, and I always tell myself that this time I am going to get up just that much earlier so that I have more time to get ready in the morning.

Then Sunday morning hits and I don't want to get up. I never got as much sleep as I had planned. The kids (except Sophia) are sleeping quietly and it seems a shame to wake them until I absolutely have to. Eventually, I get up, wake the children up and then hurriedly try to make sure they have breakfast and are dressed.

My walk to church is ridiculous. We live across the street from the church. I mean...literally...if you are at the church, cross the street, and walk past one house you are at our house. This walk should take no more than three minutes. At most. For some reason it takes us at least ten. That ten minutes is spent herding my troop in the right direction all the while shouting things like "watch for cars," "don't you dare chase that squirrel," "don't eat those rocks," and "we aren't taking bugs into church!"

Once we are finally seated in the pew I realize that I have spit up all over my shirt or that I totally forgot to brush Sophia's hair (and you can tell), and worst of all, that I probably should have gone to the bathroom before I made that harrowing journey across the street.

The church service isn't much easier than the walk to church. Although, the commands have changed. Instead of shouting at the kids about bugs, rocks, and cars, I am quietly whispering things like "sit up," "shhhh," "don't color in your hymnal," "shhhhh," "you can't go to the bathroom right now," "shhhh."

Every Sunday morning I get a glimpse into the life of a single parent. And, every Sunday morning I think "Wow, I don't ever want to have to do this parenting thing alone."

Sundays are indeed rough, but they are also amazingly humbling. Each Sunday morning I am humbled by the kindness of our congregation. Each Sunday I am blessed with the knowledge that I am in a room full of people that pray for my family daily, that love to watch my children grow, that don't care that Sophie's hair isn't brushed, and that Connor has oatmeal all over his shirt. They will gladly help watch my kids for me or give me an encouraging smile when my kids are being especially ornery.

Sundays are rough, but they are also full of joy. Each Sunday morning I get to see my husband do the one thing that he has worked for over the past four years. The one thing he is called to do. He loves these people and has been called to be their shepherd. It is amazing to see and truly does bring me so much joy.

I look forward to the time when my kids are old enough that Sunday mornings become a bit easier. And yet, I think I might miss the chaos some day. It is a constant reminder of how blessed we are to have these four little monsters in our life and how blessed we are to have been placed in a church where they kind of like our monsters too.

One Decade Down.

Ten years ago today I said "I do" to Benjamin Ockree and we began our life as husband and wife. It is amazing how quickly these last ten years have passed and also how much it seems like I've been married to Ben for much longer than a mere decade.

These last ten years have taught me a great many things about being married and I am certain that the next ten will teach me a great deal more. I've learned that marriage is hard work, but incredibly rewarding. I've learned to forgive my spouse when he disappoints me or when I feel he has wronged me. I've been humbled by my husband's ability to forgive me when I have wronged him, disappointed him, and failed him. I think that after ten years both Ben and I would agree that our commitment to our marriage and the love we hold for each other is much greater than we ever thought it could be on that lovely day ten years ago.

Ten years down and hopefully many many more to go.

The best birthday plans.

May 30th was Ben's birthday and I was going to make it amazing.

For the first time ever I was going to make fried chicken. And then I was going to make coconut ice cream. And then I was going to hire clowns and get a bounce house and pony rides...and you get the idea.

Really, it just involved homemade fried chicken and coconut ice cream. Neither of which worked out.

So instead, this happened....

And the ice cream? Well, our machine stopped turning the paddle inside and the ice cream wouldn't set up. So I put it in a Pyrex bowl and set it in the freezer. It was really delicious...the next day. 

Birthday fail. 

Violet Marie

Moving Up.

I no longer have a first grader.

And, how is it possible that kids grow up this fast?

A happy kids leaving for his first day of school in August.  

Crying on his last day because he didn't want to leave his teacher.

Our Young Author.

Connor is now a published author. In fact, every kid in Connor's first grade class is now a published author.

Each kid in the class was given the first half of a common saying and then they came up with their own ending and also made an illustration.

Connor was given "If you lie down with dogs...." and decided the logical ending was that you'll get licked in the face. This conclusion was based on Connor's personal experience with his Grandparent's dogs, which do indeed lick him in the face when he lays on the floor with them.

Some of my other favorite sayings from the book include the following:

Many hands make germs.

Look before you cross the road. 

Silence is quiet. 

Practice makes for a lot of work. 

and

A picture is worth $1,000.

All the students enjoyed a classy snack of crackers, cheese, and juice. Then the class listened to their teacher read their book, and then each kid went around and signed the other student's books. 

It was a really fun way for the kids to always have a keepsake from first grade. 

We kind of love this guy.

Today is Ben's birthday. I think that the kids and I are more excited than he is. We kind of love this guy, perhaps for slightly different reasons. 

I asked the kids why they loved their dad and was given the following list:

• He's fun.
  
• He's nice.
• He's silly. 
• Dada!
• He takes care of us. 
• He walks with us.
• No.  
• He makes circles.
• He helps me find flowers. 
• Hiccup.
• He is helpful.
• He is playful.
• Drink!

You might be able to ascertain which kid contributed what part of that list. 

Part of the reason I love Ben is that he is an amazing father to these little munchkins. There is nothing sweeter than the sound of little girl giggles as their dad chases them around the house. Although, the sound of a seven year old and his dad talking about going camping and figuring out what they need is just as sweet.

Happy Birthday to my dear husband of nearly ten years. I wouldn't change a thing about our past because all the mistakes we've made, times we've had to forgive each other, pain, and suffering helped to bring us to where we are today. And, that is a wonderful place.

Let boys climb trees.

A week or two ago, I stumbled across an article about how in America we overprotect our children. We don't let them do things where they can get hurt and therefore, they never learn how to set their own boundaries.

One of the things mentioned in the article is that we should let kids climb trees. I read this and thought "I agree with that, we should let kids climb trees." So, I did what any good mom would do...I waited until Ben got home and then told him it was now part of his fatherly duties to teach Connor how to climb a tree. Ben embraced this idea and agreed that there was nothing wrong with some good old fashioned tree climbing.

Here is the problem. When I think about letting kids climb trees, I am thinking in my mind about a small tree at a park. I think about how you could do a tree survey and find the best tree for climbing. The kind of tree where if you fell out of the tree you'd maybe twist your ankle and get a few scrapes. Oh, and it should probably also have notched out footholds and come with some sort of safety harness where you can't actually fall and get hurt. Ever.

When Ben thinks about teaching Connor how to climb a tree he does not envision safety harnesses or foot holds. He doesn't see any reason to inspect seventy five trees and then decide which one provides the overall best climbing experience with the least amount of risk. In fact, all he really does is look out the front door and then say "hey Connor, do you want to climb that tree out there?"

This brought out many concerns from me. Such as:

1. Aren't those branches too small?
2. What if he falls and breaks his neck?
3. He is going to get stuck up there! 
4. What if he falls and breaks his neck?

To which Ben responded:

1. No. They aren't too small. Connor doesn't weigh very much. 
2. He would likely break his leg or his arm, not his neck. 
3. If he gets stuck then he'll have to figure out how to get unstuck. We can't climb this tree. 
4. If he fell he would hit most of those branches on the way down and that would help break his fall. 

I don't find any of these answers satisfactory. And, I usually end up leaving Ben and Connor outside with these parting words: "I'm going in. If he falls and breaks his neck, I'm not going to watch it happen." 

Now Connor is a tree climbing fool. He climbs this tree almost everyday with the ultimate goal of reaching the very top of the tree before I freak out and tell him it is time to get down and that he has climbed far enough. 

I think I might be a mom. 

Motherhood: A work in progress

It has been nearly eight years since I became a mother. Eight years since I held my little son in my arms for the first time. Eight years since I realized that my husband and I were now responsible for the well being of another person. We would shape his mind, help mold his character, teach him our faith, and try our best to be good parents to this new little one. Eight years since that terrifying moment of clarity.

Over the past eight years a lot has changed. We've moved four times, lost four children in the womb, cut our income in half, cut it in half again, given birth to two sweet daughters, endured graduate school, survived a vicarage, and grown ever closer together as a family. Despite all these changes, our commitment to our first child, and now our subsequent children, hasn't changed. We still want to do all that we can to make them into the very best little versions of themselves that they can be.

We've learned a lot over the years and I am sure we have a lot more to learn. I mean, we haven't hit the teenage years yet, which seems like it will be nothing but a learning experience. Here are the top eight things I've learned about being a mother over the last eight years.

1. When they say "you have to pick your battles," they mean it. I have to decide what things I am willing to fight my children on and what things I'm not. The decisions I make may seem strange to others around me. They may feel that I've picked the wrong battles. Focused on things I shouldn't have and let go of things I should have focused on. They don't know my kid and they don't have to parent my kid. That is a special task that God has left up to me and my husband. (With lots of influence from our therapists). 
2. Even though my children will most definitely behave as if I am, I am not breaking them by being tough on them and having expectations for them. Kids are actually really resilient. 
3. Kids are sinners. They will lie to you, manipulate you, try to find ways to hurt you, and just in general be awful sometimes. 
4. I am a big sinner too. I don't love my children the way I should. I don't give selflessly to them. I lose my patience, have temper tantrums, say hurtful things, and just in general behave awful sometimes. 
5. It is all about forgiveness. My family would not be able to function if I wasn't willing to seek the forgiveness of my spouse and children when I mess up, when I fail them, when I sin. And by seeking their forgiveness, I am teaching them to seek mine when they make mistakes too. 
6. Children are way more capable of learning the faith than most churches give them credit for. With an appalling lack of effort on my part, my children know who Jesus is, that He died on the cross, that He rose again, the Lord's prayer, the creeds, and find comfort in their baptism. 
7. My relationship with both my mom and my mother in law is strengthened through my children. They are always there to answer my questions, listen to me complain, and give me advice. Plus, they love my kids. A lot. Which is pretty amazing considering what little stinkers I have. 
8. I am not doing this mom thing as well as I wish I was, but I am not doing as bad as I think I am either. I don't have all the answers. I won't ever have them and I still have a lot to learn. Sometimes I am going to mess up and make mistakes, but sometimes I am going to do just the right thing, the perfect thing. Either way, I know this: I am a way better mom than I was on that October day when a little 5 lb 13 oz bundle of trouble was placed in to my arms. My kids? They are going to be okay. 

The Big Top

I didn't get to go on my class field trip to the circus when I was a little kid. I think I might have had the chicken pox or something like that. I did eventually go when I was older and I remember being mostly terrified that something horrible was going to happen to one of the performers during the show and not enjoying it all that much.

It is no surprise, then, that I haven't ever taken our children to the circus. I don't want them to be completely traumatized when the trapeze artists falls, the lion tamer gets eaten, and the guy doing bicycle tricks breaks his leg. And, mostly I don't want to take out the small loan required to take your kids to any kind of live performance.

However, recently  I was able to watch a circus performance that caused me no such anxiety. It was the Preschool, Kindergarten, 1st, and 2nd grade circus show at Connor's school. Now, I'll admit that when Connor told me about the circus that I thought it would be mildly entertaining and somewhat cute. When he told me he was going to be a strongman and wear a muscle suit, I thought it was going to be pretty ding dang cute. However, I wasn't prepared for the full onslaught of adorable that happened that night. Seriously folks, it was freaking adorable. There was almost too much cuteness and not just the parts that my son was in.

Here are some of the pictures that I managed to get from our not so perfect seats.

A circus parade. 

 My strongman waiving at me in the parade.

You don't have to worry that she'll break her neck if she falls.

 

 Check out those muscles.

 Really focusing to get those weights in the air.

Checking out some of the other acts while he works out.

The best part is that Trinity puts on the this circus every year...well every year for the past 19 years. That means that next year I'll get to see Sophia participate and get to experience the adorableness all over again.