Glad I Didn't Post

Last night I was all set to write a big post of complaints.  I was feeling pretty down and I thought public complaining would make it better.  Tonight I'm glad I didn't do that and I'm reminded of a favorite quote by Jeffrey R. Holland, "No misfortune can be so great that whining about it won't make it worse."
The short of it is that I have been spending many, many hours planning and doing the leg work for the coming school year.  This is no small undertaking-- curriculum choices, piano schedules, home organization planning, extracurricular activities for 6 children, book clubs.  Lots of decisions to make, but not a lot of the relief of actually executing any of my grand plans.  All the expectations building in my mind and it can feel overwhelming.  Actually doing the work seems easier than thinking about doing it.  Rather than dreading the school year, I usually feel a sense of relief when it finally gets underway.

Instead of complaining, I'll just say that I am SO very grateful for the Sabbath day.  To go to church, be spiritually nourished, spend time with my family and have Abe home from work-- these are things that make me very happy and explain why I am considerably more relaxed Sunday evenings than Saturday evenings.

Last Monday night was our annual backyard camp out.  It's not terribly adventurous, but we enjoy it.  I mean, really, must we always be adventurous?  Sometimes I like being boring.  Or maybe, life is just too exciting sometimes and I don't want to add any more excitement to the mix. 

Abe has always played this "helicopter" game with the little kids.  It was fun to see the former little kid playing the game with the current little kids.

Crawling through a pillow fight in the tent is dangerous for Baby Peter, but he emerged unscathed.

I'm not sure why Elinor chose to sleep outside the tent.  I'm afraid she may have been offended at a sibling.  Surely, the tent would be a little safer and offer a little more protection from the elements?

 Or, perhaps not.  Cannon, who slept inside the tent, got bitten by something and had a swollen eye the next day.  Doesn't look so good, but that was nothing compared to how it looked the next day.

We gave him some Benadryl and over the next couple of days it went down.  He said it didn't hurt or itch, so I don't know what it was.   But that wasn't the saddest thing about the backyard camp out.  The ill-fated campout had a casualty.   You might think it is bad to kill a mockingbird...

...but what kind of horrible luck awaits you if you kill a hummingbird?!?
We think this poor little thing got trapped in the tent during the day and couldn't find it's way out.  It exhausted itself.  So sad.
And frankly, that might explain the series of unfortunate events we've been experiencing today.
Like when Faith accidentally let a gallon of milk fall out of the fridge and it busted open all over the kitchen floor.  You never realize just how much liquid a gallon really is, until it spills on the floor.  The gallon milk spill was the largest, but only one of four significant milk spills today. 
Then this morning, when poor George fell on the stairs and seriously bit his lip just before church.  Prepare yourself for this picture-- it's a little graphic.

 Fortunately mouths heal quickly and he's a pretty tough cookie, so he's alright.

In other, markedly less gruesome news, Faith is sporting a cute new hairstyle.  She wanted to go short and who was I to talk her out of it?  I think she made the right choice and it suits her very well.

She is not one whit behind her sisters when it comes to thick hair.  Thick hair is a blessing and curse.  I understand that nobody wants to hear someone with really thick hair complain about it.
I get it.  Boo--hoo, my hair is so thick and beautiful-- it takes so long to do!  Woest me!
But there you have it, it can be a burden at times.  It's a beautiful burden to bear.

This isn't a good picture, and in fact, I find it creepy in several ways.  But it does show that I was a brave soul and took ten children to the movie theater this week.  While Clark and Bethany were away on Trek, and Elinor was the oldest child at home, I thought it would be fun to let her invite a few friends to the dollar theater to see Cinderella.  I think they enjoyed it, but I was reminded why I haven't gone to a movie theater in about a year.  Peter was... how shall I say it... not easily managed.  He wasn't interested in sitting and watching the movie.  How rude of him!  He must be the rudest 11 month old there ever was!
Needless to say, I didn't get to sit and watch the movie in the theater.  And as I walked the movie theater halls with him and felt sorry for myself, I vowed not to take him to another movie theater until he was at least five years old.
I have had babies I could take to theaters, but Peter is not one of them.  That's okay, he has other gifts-- like climbing stairs, gagging really easily, and chewing Nerf bullets.  Good times with Pete.

We call his Nerf Bullets his baby cigars.  He absolutely loves to go around all day with a bullet hanging out of his mouth.  Now that I actually write it out, it sounds really terrible.  It is terrible and it's a choking hazard.  We've had to help him cut back because he is chewing more vigorously and then he can get the rubber tip off the end.  No more baby cigars for you!