Sunday afternoon nap

Sarah is still recovering from the big sickness.  She slept this afternoon from about 3:00 till after 6:00.  When she woke up, she wanted breakfast!

Daddy daughter dance

Sarah thought she should paint Daddy's nails for their big date.

Her nail service comes with a free blow-dry.

Then Daddy painted her nails.

A ninja held up the joint.

and laid siege to the kitchen.

Ready for their dance.  Sarah picked out all the clothes for both of them.

The worst cookies ever

Click on the picture to read the recipe.  Does anything seem wrong with it?  Too easy?  Too good to be true?  Sarah found this recipe in a book and has been dogging me to make it with her.  I thought today would be a good time, since it's Nana's birthday.  We were going to make a cute giraffe cookie for her, because she likes giraffes.

As any fool could probably figure out (but we didn't, for some reason), if you squish together flour, butter, and sugar, it is NOT going to magically turn into any kind of dough.  It was a dry, powdery mixture.  I added a little milk, and it turned into a dough.  Any fool could also tell by reading the recipe that there is no flavor it.  So we made these cute little cookies, all different shapes and patterns, and the giraffe for Nana.

As soon as they came out of the oven, Sarah pried one off the cookie sheet, took a big bite, made a face, and spit it into the garbage can.  I thought she was being over dramatic, but I took a bite of one, and it was just disgusting.  It tasted like nothing at best, and like soggy flour at worst.  Noah said, "I know what's wrong with those cookies," and I said, "So do I.  The recipe was awful."  But Noah said, "No, it wasn't the recipe.  We didn't put any love in it."  We usually put love in our baking by having fun and talking pleasantly to each other while we're working.  Sometimes Sarah will even blow kisses into the bowl.  But this time, I was mean and nasty while we were making them.  We didn't have any fun at all.  So when Noah suggested the reason for the bad taste, Sarah agreed and added, "Yeah, we actually put some hate in them."

I guess we'll go ahead and deliver the giraffe to Nana and advise her not to eat it.  Maybe she can put it out for the birds or something.

That's my boy

He's a ninja sniper.  His ninja sword is on his back.

He was unhappy about his first day back to schoolwork after a long break for sickness.  To appease him, I told him he could do it anywhere he wanted.  He chose the dryer. 

Nobody will ever rob this girl

We were playing bank robbery this morning.  Sarah and I were tellers, and Noah came in with a gun and demanded all our money.  I told him I hoped he spent it wisely, and he said, "I'm a robber.  Do you think I'm going to spend it wisely?"  Then he pointed his gun at Sarah and demanded all her money.  She got as angry as I've ever seen her, grabbed his gun and beat him over the head with it, and yelled right in his face, "No! This is NOT your money!"  She gave him a giant shove and he fell head over heels right out the door.  Then she handed me half her money and told me to get back to work.

So we started working again, and Noah came limping in with a different gun, shot Sarah a nervous look, approached me, and quietly demanded all my money.  I handed it over.  He spread it out and said, "Is this real money?" 

Birth mothers

I never gave them a thought until ten years ago, and since then they've occupied my mind a lot.  They're a complicated presence in my life. I'm unspeakably thankful to them, jealous of them,  and a little angry with them, and I have so many questions I'd like to ask them.  A couple days ago, I asked each of my children separately, "Do you have any questions about your adoption or your birth parents?  Anything you want to talk about?"  Sarah completely ignored me (which is not unusual, so I know she wasn't just avoiding the subject.  She simply has selective hearing. If she's not interested in what you're talking about, she really doesn't hear it).  She asked for a snack.  When I asked Noah the same thing, he said, "Nope, not really.  Do you want to play Legos with me?"

Last night I had a dream about Sarah's birth mother.  I don't remember it all, but in the part I do remember, she was a tall, chubby woman with a nice spirit about her that I liked.  She had her big hand stuffed full of green beans, and she was shoving them in her mouth as she did ballet moves across the floor.

New photo

I stole a friend's Facebook picture to add to this post:

http://janeses.blogspot.com/2012/02/my-young-realist.html

Twins

Sarah asked me to make pigtails in her hair.  Then she said she wanted us to be twins so I should put pigtails in my hair too.  Noah said he thought I should take mine out before we went out in public so I wouldn't embarrass him.  I left them in and told him to get used to it. 

She also put a pink feather clip in her hair.  Fortunately, we only have one of those, so I couldn't wear one. 

Snickers loved the pink feather tail and pounced at it several times.

 

 

How cute are they?!

Of Mice and Men

Sarah wanted Noah to play outside with her.  He whined that it was too cold.  I said, "Are you a man, or are you a mouse?" and he immediately declared, "A mouse!"

It's worth it

I stole this old Victorian poem from a friend's blog, because it reminds me of how much I wanted my children.  Despite all the mess, noise, confusion, exhaustion, and frustration, I remember our quiet, selfish, humdrum life before we had them, and I'm thankful that God gave us the children we begged for.

Be patient, worn mother, they're growing up fast. 
These nursery whirlwinds, not long do they last. 
A still lonely house would be far worse than noise, 
rejoice and be glad in your brave girls and boys.

A beautiful sight

Noah coming out of the library with his selections. 

Mummification

"The Mumafacashon Box" (OK, so we haven't covered "mummification" in spelling yet).  Sarah has been into mummifying things since we studied Lazarus in CBS.

The contents of the mummification box

She mummified a die.  Who knows what will be next?  I'm just hoping she sticks to inanimate objects and doesn't start mummifying cats or people....

Galactic secret

Sarah glanced up at the sky, leaned over to me, and whispered ,"Don't tell the stars, but I love you more than I love all of them."

The sad part and the happy part

Sarah was wicked this morning, and my response was even worse. I retreated to my room to calm down. God told me to read Romans 7:15-25, where Paul feels just how I was feeling. Noah came in while I was reading and crying, and he said, "What's wrong? Are you reading a sad part?" So I read it to him and said, "But don't miss verse 25 and the next verse, which is chapter 8, verse 1. That's the happy part!"

Dead dog

I was driving Sarah to ballet, and I saw a dog lying on the side of the road, in front of someone's house, looking freshly dead.  I passed him but then stopped and went back.  I parked next to him and considered.  The first thing I thought of was when the neighbor rang our doorbell and told us that Jason was dead.  This dog probably belongs to people in the house I'm parked in front of, and they don't know their dog is dead.  I definitely don't want to be the one to tell them.  Besides, I don't have time.  If I sit here much longer, Sarah's going to be late for ballet.  Finally, I decide that I have to go tell them.  The second I open my door, the dog pops up and looks at me!  I laughed at him and told him to find a better place to sleep.

Kids say the funniest things

I was helping in the kindergarten class at CBS this morning.  The teacher was talking about heaven and who we'll see there.  One kid said, "I can't wait to meet God and Jesus!" and another kid added ,"And Moses!" and another said, "Yeah, and Michael Jackson!" 

A good education?

We were in the middle of math when the garage door guy arrived.  I told the kids they could either finish their math or go out and watch the guy work.  This is what they chose:

 

Since they were sitting still anyway, they ate their breakfast while watching the show.  

Jay, the garage door man, provided quite an education that required lots of discussion for the rest of the day.  For some reason, he started talking about how he used to be a repo man, and how he made great money and only worked midnight to 6:00 a.m.  Noah asked me what a repo man was and why he worked in the middle of the night.  I explained.  Then he asked how the guy was able to get into all those cars.  I told him to ask him.  He did.  Jay said, "Oh I had all kinds of slim jims and other tools to break into cars.  I even had this really neat tool that would make a key in 25 seconds."  He went on to explain how that worked, but I didn't quite follow it. 

Noah was completely entranced, as Jay proceeded to talk about how it's a great job if you don't mind leaving pregnant women crying in the middle of the street.  He told about taking a BMW from a real estate mogul who lived in a million dollar mansion and finding $100,000 in cash in the back seat.  He said he almost retired to Mexico but decided against it.  In the middle of this heartwarming tale, we had to leave for an appointment.  I was very reluctant to leave Jay with the run of the house, so I locked the door leading from the garage into the house.  Sarah asked me why I locked that door, and I told her I was just being cautious.  She said, "Don't you trust Mr. Jay?"  I told her I didn't even know Mr. Jay, and although he's probably a fine person, it's better to be safe than sorry. 

Noah was very quiet during the drive, but his forehead was wrinkled up like it does when he's thinking.  Finally, he announced, "I want to be a repo man when I grow up."  I told him I didn't think that would be the best career for him, and he said, "'Well, somebody has to do it!"

They did eventually get back to their math books, but in the meantime I hope they learned something valuable about real life. 

My young realist

We were watching a show where some idealist was telling a 4-year-old girl that she could she be anything she wants to be when she grows up.  Noah scoffed and said, "That's not really true."
Me: Why not?
N: She can't be a major league baseball player.
M: Why not?
N: They don't allow girls.
M: Maybe she will be the one to change that rule.
N: How?
M: Maybe she'll be a super great player and convince them to let her play.
N: But she has to be at least 35 years old to be President to change the rule, and by then she'll be too old to be a major leaguer.
M: She doesn't have to be President of the United States to change a baseball rule.
N: She doesn't?
M: No!  Baseball is not a matter of federal importance.
N: She'd have to be somebody pretty important though.
M: She could just appeal to the commissioner of baseball I guess.
N: I don't see that happening.  They should quit telling her she can be anything she wants to be.