BIG NEWS!

Drum roll please . . . .

Quadruple Life is moving!

Don't be alarmed my dear friends and family, this great blog format I've been using for the last several years, (first with "BabyHautala.blogspot" and now with "QuadrupleLife.blogspot") has simply outgrown its ability to provide the groundwork and format for everything I want to be writing about.

Welcome,please, http://www.lifeontheinside.org

Everything you have enjoyed about QuadrupleLife (and MUCH MORE) can be found at my new site. Even this blog, in the same format, complete with an RSS feed, is there (under MomLife, at the top of the navigation bar).

Please feel free to transision with me as I phase out my use of blogger's template and begin blogging at my new location. Thank you for your faithful readership. I LOVE hearing from you!

—beth

Numbers

I'm suppose to be doing taxes right now.
But I'm not.
I'm not because I hate, HATE numbers. They have absolutely no personality, always say exactly the same thing, and come in only two colors—red and black.

Quickbooks and I have a love/hate relationship and I am currently swinging more towards the hate side of it. Hence this post, which is actually a form of procrastination. Delightful, wordy procrastination.

Ok. *sighs* I feel a little better. I've typed something besides numbers now for the last several minutes. *flexes brain to check for permanent damages related to number processing* Back to Quickbooks.

Where toes grow . . .

I'm not a regular visitor to our hometown fleet supply store, mostly because I'm not always in need of the more industrial-natured goods the place carries. But today I was. On the list: chicken feed, numerous light bulbs, and a variety of batteries. As it seemed to make reasonable sense to limit my stops, Fleet Farm was my "one stop shop" for the afternoon.
With Caleb and Ella bundled and buckled in the back seat, I reviewed my list and our destination with my son.

Me: " . . . so we can get all the things we need at Fleet Farm . . ."
Caleb: "Fleet Farm?"
Me: "Yep, Fleet Farm."
Caleb: *Long pause* "Fleet Farm?"
Me: "Adjusting rear-view mirror to look at him* "Yes. Fleet Farm."
Caleb: *In a small uncertain voice* "Are we going to Toes Farm too?"
Me: *Dies laughing.*

An Owl Moon night

(Illustration Credit)

Caleb could not sleep tonight. 10pm and my three-and-a-half-year-old son was still up bouncing around in his bedroom.

Frustration quickly crept in around my heart.
Ok, I though. Two choices: Let this be one more "bad mommy" moment, or do something cool instead. Deep breath and grace poured in. Something cool.

I took the stairs quietly and flipped on the light in Caleb's room, meeting a wide-eyed, mischievous, red-head's curious gaze.

Caleb: "Hi!"
Me: "Hey."
Caleb: "I'm messing around."
Me: *laughs* "I know." Wanna go for a walk?"
Caleb: "What?"
Me: "Want to go for a walk outside?"
Caleb: "In the dark?"
Me: "Yep."
Caleb: *breathless and flushed* "Yes!"

And so we did. Coats, hats, scarves, mittens, boots pulled over footed pajamas, we bundled up against the February chill and walked out into the darkness. Two kids, eager to see the world in the light of a colder sun.

Growing up, this was pretty common for me. God bless my parents for their broad scope of mind, willingness to let me be a kid, and for allowing me to grow up in the country. I often wandered out under the winter moon. Books like "Owl Moon" by Jane Yolen, which consequently, Caleb and I finished our evening off with, were real-life experiences in my childhood. But for Caleb this was all very new, and just a little scary.

Caleb: "Are we going far?"
Me: "No—just to the park." (Two blocks from our front door).
Caleb. "Ok. Could you carry me? Cuz I'm kinda nervous of the dark."
Me: "Of course."

We tramped across the crusty snow of our neighbors' sidewalks and crossed the street under the warm glow of the streetlights. We paused on the corner and examined the sky for any sign of the moon, which was absent, but found the stars instead.

Me: "Do you see the stars?"
Caleb: "I see them!"
Me: "Guess who made them."
Caleb: "God did."
Me: "Yep! And guess what else."
Caleb: "What?"
Me: "He made all the ones we can see up there shining so bright, and He made the ones that are too far away for us to see, and He gave them all names! Like, your name is Caleb, and my name is Mommy, and God gave all the stars names too!"
Caleb: *Impressed* "He gave them all names." *matter-of-fact* "Bright shining names."

We continued on through the park, talking in whispers ("So we don't wake the animals!") until we arrived in front of the capped and snow-filled fountain, now quiet. There we stood looking at the sky and stars and fountain for quite a while, talking about the what would happen when the snow melted and how fun it was to be out in the snow at night, just the two of us.

Gazing up, Caleb's profile was illuminated by the warm streetlamp, and he caught sight of his breath in the frosty air. So we breathed ice-breath into the sky for awhile, laughing quietly. Before long our eyelashes were frosty and our cheeks were cold. We left the park and headed for home, one big lumpy shadow cast out behind us—me and my boy, piggyback.

After all the winter garb was shed, I tucked Caleb in to bed, his cheeks still rosy. He grabbed my face between his hands and kissed me.

"I love you Mom!" He said emphatically, "And the stars are beautiful."

O, what I almost missed! What I almost missed by a single moment of self-focused frustration because my son would not sleep like clockwork! Instead, God showed me a miracle tonight—the glory of a dark night as seen for the first time through the eyes of my sleepless son. What a precious gift! There may have been no owl, and no moon, yet tonight was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful nights of my life.

O LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory
above the heavens.
From the lips of children and infants
you have ordained praise. . .
When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?
You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor." —Psalm 8: 1-5

Special note: My deepest thanks to my sweet and faithful friend Jenn, who dropped everything at 10:30pm and tramped over in the dark to be with my sleeping daughter tonight. You're beautiful.

Leaning In

I've never been oblivious to the fact that parenting can be a trek—an up-hill-hot-day-black-flies-no-water trek at times. These days come and go, and often with a descent nap or an evening out I am able to settle back in, pull my babies close, kiss them tenderly, and keep on hiking.

But lately I've noticed a shift—not in my children—they remain gloriously obvious to the hike, running on ahead—and this is just as it should be! How terrible would it be for them to have any grasp of my parenting frustrations! No, the shift is in me. The walk seems harder, the hill steeper, my pack heavier than usual, and over the course of the last few weeks I've been wrestling with the reasons.

Am I failing at this thing called parenting? Maybe I'm not really cut out to do this. Are my children more difficult than other people's children? Is my own particular climb a little steeper, perhaps?

No. No, I concluded finally. My children are normal human children and my climb is no more difficult than anyone else's—in fact—it's quite a bit less steep than the climb many others have made, and are making. No, I decided. The shift isn't circumstantial. It's internal.

Fabulous. More heart work.

I've always kind of liked the idea of being good at a lot of things—never getting too hung up on being excellent at only one thing. Hey, love diversity, right?

God: "Not this time."
Me: "but—"
God: "These people, these small sparks of humanity are one of my greatest gifts to you. Are you going to waste my gifts?"
Me: "Um—"
God: "Yes. They are challenging at times. Beautifully so. I planned it that way because I want you to look to Me for parenting guidance. I'm a pretty good Dad, you know."
Me: "Oh ya."
God: "I want you to be excellent. I want you to lean in to this."
Me: "But it's hard! It's a lot easier to focus some—ok—a lot of energy on other gifts you've given me. Gifts that don't try my patience, or push my buttons, or puke on me, or . . ."
God: " . . .Or make you realize your need? Make you depend on Me? Make you realize what responsibility and sacrifice mean in real life? Force you to set yourself aside? Allow you to recognize selfishness when it shackles your heart?"
Me: *silence*
God: "Lean into this. Lean into these gifts because I have something beautiful to show you about Myself through them. Let go of the things you think are best because I have something far better in mind. I want to show you what it means to love, and to be loved. Lean in. I have given you these children—My children—for their benefit, and for yours. And I am not in the habit of making mistakes. I never have been."
Me: *wipes tears away* "Ok Abba."

So, as I type this tonight I've quit climbing. Right now I'm just leaning in. Pressing into the the broad, strong back of my Father God as He carries me and my babies up this hill. And it's beautiful.

"He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young."
—Isaiah 40:11

Expectations

Caleb: "We don't take things from people, and we don't push our sisters down, and we don't run away from God on our bikes."
—on the expected behavior of himself and toddlers everywhere.

Watch out world.

During the daily getting-ready-process, (coats, mittens, hat, snacks for the road, etc), Caleb decided to mix things up.

Caleb: "Mom, don't help me." *holds up both hands in a firm expression of independent protest.
Me: "But I thought you needed help zipping your coat."
Caleb: *hands still raised* "Don't help me Mom. I'm dangerous. Dangerous."

I believe it.

A cup of what???

So . . . I'm going to do a bit of unintentional advertising for Caribou Coffee in this post (despite the fact that I am a DIE-HARD Starbucks fan). Regardless, the story is worth the sacrifice in brand loyalty.

We stopped at Caribou for a cup of coffee on our way out of town earlier this week, and their new campaign for chocolate beverages is front and center on the large display windows. I jump out of the car and leave Aaron in charge of the kiddos while I run in for our beverages.

Mission accomplished, I return with coffee only to find my sweet husband in stitches in the car. I'm talking hysterical laughter. I start laughing simply because it's catchy! Once he finally catches his breath, he points to the large display in the window.

Aaron: "Hey Caleb, tell Mommy what's in that cup."
Caleb: *as strait-faced as they come* : "Mommy, there's a naughty word in that cup."

I must say, I'm a bit turned off to Guittard Chocolate these days. :)

Momentary Panic

Caleb: "Hey Mom! Look! I got my hair cut!"(Which is true—he got his hair cut this morning . . . but that it would be so fantastic is somehow alarming, especially as I remember that I left my scissors lying on the table . . . all of this didn't dawn on me right away however, as I was distracted with getting graham cracker out of every facial orifice Ella possesses).
Me: "Ya—ya you did bud. You got your hair cut today."
Caleb: *Giggles from under the dining room table.*
Caleb" "Hey Mom, Look! I got my hair cut again!"
Me: *Realization dawns. Drops everything and ever-so-slowly bends to peer beneath the dining room table* "What are you doing?"
Caleb: "Hair cut." *Brandishes scissors with flourish.*
Me: *Races to the scene looking for clumps of red hair or worse.* Nothing.
Caleb: *giggles and grins* "I couldn't make the scissors work."
Me: *hysterical little laugh of relief.* "Hey bud, we only get our hair cut at the hair-cut place, ok?"
Caleb: *with wisdom beyond his years* "But you cut your hair Mommy."
Me: "Ooo. Right." Out of the mouth of babes.

Thankful . . .

Confession: I am a selfish person. *gulp* And over the course of the last few days I've been quite convicted on how often my own interests are forefront in my mind. Naptime=quiet time for mommy rather than rest time or story time for Caleb. Husband and kids aren't terribly crazy about vegetarian entries for dinner? Oh well, I like them. Mommy is in charge of the radio in the car, even if Caleb doesn't like Sara Bareilles. . . I could keep going, but you get the idea . . .

But lately, every time a complaining thought or selfish vibe springs up in my mind, I hear a whisper in my heart:
"What are you thankful for?"
That will stop a girl in her tracks, let me tell you.

I try to be thankful, really I do. I'm thankful for food to eat, money to pay the bills, clothes to wear, and health—good things. But I forget, and don't like, to be thankful for all things, even things that don't go my way. Sick kids—not the sick part, but the staying-home-and-spending-time with them, part. Piles of laundry—not the vast amount of work, but the fact that my family has so many items to clothe ourselves with, that they end up in dirty mounds in the basement. Dirty dishes—proof that we eat good food on a frequent basis.

Slowly, my perspective is being forced to shift a bit, and I am being called to offer up my thanks regardless of my circumstances. A hard lesson, believe me.

However, how much better to give thanks than to wallow in self-pity and frustration? Even my children are affected. Proof that they really do WATCH YOUR EVERY MOVE and LISTEN TO YOUR EVERY WORD, (Scary).
Last night as I knelt by Caleb's bed and did the night-time routine with him—drink, story, bedtime songs, prayers—he said to me,"We have to say thank you Mom,"
Me: "What should we thank Jesus for, Caleb?"
Caleb: "Everything."

Out of the mouth of babes.

"Therefore, since we are receiving a Kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire."
—Hebrews 12:28-29

Word-wise.

Vocabulary has always been kind of a big thing to me. I love words, and given the option, I prefer to call things by their proper names: children, not kids; deer, not deers; red honda civic, not Lightning McQueen, etc. And while I am by no means consistent in this, I have apparently been consistent enough for Caleb to catch me in my wordy-ways . . .

Caleb: *quietly musing* "awe-dem."
Me: "What bud? All of them? All of what?"
Caleb: "No Mom. Awe-dem."
Me: *tries again with more articulation* "All. of. them."
Caleb: *sighs exasperatedly* "No Mom. Awe-dem."
Me: "Awe-dem?"
Caleb: *getting frustrated now* "Awe-dem!"
Me: "Autumn. Oh Autumn! Yes Caleb, It's Autumn.
Caleb: "That's what I said, Mom. Awe-dem."

Fall might have been easier to pronounce . . .

Sprinkles

The other morning as I was helping Caleb get dressed he reached up and smoothed my forehead with both hands.
Caleb: "Mommy, you have stripes on your forehead!"
Me: *Laughs ruefully* "Yes. Yes I do. Those stripes are called wrinkles.
Caleb: "Wrinkles?"
Me: "Yep." *Helps pull on a sock*
Caleb: "Who gave them to you? Did God give you those sprinkles?"
Me: *laughs again* "Wrinkles. And I think maybe you gave them to me."
Caleb: "I did?"
Me: "Maybe."
Caleb: *Pauses thoughtfully* "I like them. Show me your sprinkles again."

Pigtales . . .

What one has, so must the other.

When Caleb Sleeps . . .

. . . Ella totally gets into his stuff.
Don't tell him.

Updates

It has been brought to my attention that my blog posts have been lacking (read non-existent) as of late. And so I decided to remedy that little problem. So. . . for the sake of all interested . . . here's a rundown of our quadruple life over the past couple of weeks!

1. Potty training is going well . . . in fact, I think I'll give it a couple more nights with pull-ups and then we should be diapering only ONE child here at the RedHouse!


























2. Aaron and I played Scrabble. This is worth noting only because we are NOT game people. We don't play games. No games. Have I mentioned that we really don't play games? Well, we did. And despite my being a word person, I lost to Aaron, who is a picture person. Go figure. We still had fun, and we might do it again, sometime. Maybe.



























3. I went to Seattle for FIVE DAYS and had a wonderful, lovely, beautiful time! I went partly to research galleries (both as a possible venues for my own work—visit exhibitionb for a sample), and to research the setting for a book project I'm working on. Here's me at an outdoor coffee cafe in Pioneer Square, Seattle.


























While there, I also had a chance to visit my wonderful and beloved friend Rebekah, who is also an artist (AMAZING) and had a fabulous time catching up and tightening friendship strings. Here's a couple samples of her sculpture work-in-progress.




















































4. Since I've returned I have simply been enjoying time with my sweet family. And doing my best to keep up to Caleb, and Ella!

Best Friend

I suggested a Caleb-Mommy date to my son on our way to daycare this morning.

Since Ella arrived in our lives, the three of us are pretty much together non-stop, and I've been wondering lately if Caleb misses having time with me, exclusively to himself.

He is a remarkably patient little fellow, and even if I have to stop whatever I've been doing with him, to tend to Ella, he is always quick to tell me "my sister needs you, Mom." This, even when he knows his own interests will be interrupted.

Our conversation this morning went something like this:

Me: "Hey bud, what do you think about going on a date with me? Just you and Mommy?
Caleb: "Just you and me?"
Me: "Ya."
Caleb: "What about Ella?"
Me: "Well, I thought maybe you and Mommy could have some time together—just us. What do you think of that?"
Caleb: "We can't leave Ella. She has to come too."
Me: "Really?"
Caleb: "Yes. Me and Mommy and Ella. Ella is my best friend."
Me: *melts*

From Tip-Top with Love

I know I've already written a bit about our recent family vacation to Tip Top resort, but last night, Aaron surprised me and brought home the following video/slideshow of the pictures he took. (Keep in mind that Aaron is the one gifted with the camera—gifted.) Needless to say, I was overjoyed, and the results of his effort is so great that I just have to share it here. Enjoy!

Caption this Photo!

These days the chickens are doing just great. They lay in vast quantities and I'm not quite sure why . . . do they like my backyard? My son's swimming antics in the kiddy pool? Left-over baby cereal? Who knows! Regardless, I have eggs!

Aaron's caption: "Keeping all her eggs in one basket."

Sunday Morning on the Couch

This is how we spent our morning.
Pure sweetness.

Rainbow Toes

Caleb: "Mom! MOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!"
Me: *Comes tearing up the stairs from the laundry room looking for blood.* "What?! Caleb? Are you ok?"
Caleb: *Utterly astonished* "Mom, There is a rainbow on our floor."
Me: *Sighs with relief and then smiles* "Cool huh? That comes from the glass on our door! See where the sun is shining in through the glass?
Caleb: *Nods*
Me: "The shape of the glass makes a rainbow out of the light."
Caleb: "But God made the rainbow so it won't flood anymore."
Me: "That's right!"
Caleb: "Is it going to rain in our house?"
Me: *Laughs* "No. No rain in the house. The rainbow is to remind us that God won't wreck everything He made with a flood again."
Caleb: *stares at the rainbow on the floor and tentatively puts his foot in it.* "Look Mom, God made a rainbow on my toes."