“Girls are more fierce than boys, Mama.”

So says Levi, with a very serious look on his face.

Why, I ask?

Because, he says — if a boy asks a girl to marry him, and she doesn’t want to, all she does is whack him on the head with her purse. It hurts a lot, especially if her purse is big and heavy.

And that makes girls more fierce than boys?

Yep, he says, so if anyone ever thinks that girls are weaker than boys, they don’t have any idea what they’re talking about.

——————-

The reasoning of a 6 year-old. I love it.

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We Can Fly!

Oh my goodness I am so proud of my boys!! After two months of driving 40+ miles several times a week for rehearsals — and dragging the three younger kids for a few hours each time, and then practicing lines at home, and watching everything we could on Peter Pan, and even reading the book — Benjamin and Owen got to perform it today and I got to see it!!

Levi and I were so excited to get to attend with a bunch of school children today, and we can’t wait to go back this weekend for the public show!! Yay!!

This has been a huge leap for them both; it’s Owen’s second musical and Benjamin’s third, but they both had small parts before. It’s so awesome that their amazing director, ‘Miss Vikky,’ had so much faith in them and trusted that they would rise to the occasion as Peter and John. They have both really blossomed and are having such great experiences.

Can’t wait till Saturday!! 😀

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What The Heck Is Fly Honey??

… I asked my 3 year-old when he insisted that he didn’t want jam on his toast, or “regular” honey.

This conversation had already been going on for a few minutes, and I was getting a little frustrated.

Why can’t you just have honey?

No, I want FUH-WYYYY honey.

What is ‘fly honey?’

It’s honey with a fwyyyyy.

We don’t have honey with a fly, Zachary.

Yes, we dooooooo! I aw-weddy towd you dat, mama!

I don’t even remember how it happened exactly, but eventually I opened the right cupboard that had the “fly honey” in it, and holy WOW he just about screamed my ears off —

“Dat’s IT!!!!!!”

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I Would Choose The Power To…

Owen: “What power would you choose if you could have any power you wanted?”

Me: “Hmm…the power to not forget anything!!”

Owen: “But then you’d never forget ANYTHING and your mind would be too full of all the little stuff that doesn’t matter – plus you’d NEVER forget all the bad stuff.”

Me: “That’s true…well how about the power to never be tired? ”

(Can you see where I’m going with these? Overworked, worn out mom here…)

Owen: “But then you’d never sleep , and if you didn’t ever sleep…

…you’d die.”

Sheesh. I just can’t win.

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Normal

This. This picture says it all: normal. OUR normal.

I grew up in a house full of girls and one younger brother (who turned out to be awesome, I might add; we raised him well). Now I’m raising a house full of boys with one little sister.

And she’s sitting in the middle of the fort-building, lightsaber-weilding, swimming-noodle-war. Just looking at me.

I wonder what she’s thinking.

Mama? Are they ever going to calm down?

Mama? Why are they SO loud?

Mama? They’re kind of fun to watch.

Mama? They’re crazy.

And probably Mama…I LOVE them.

I always wanted older brothers. When I married into the Larsen family, I got tons of awesome brothers instantly. But starting out with all these boys of my own, from babies to now, has been quite the adventure.

I’m always asking Mike, “Should they be doing that?” And usually his answer is, “Yep, yep, they’re boys. That’s normal.” I once saw a sign that said ‘Boy (noun): a noise with dirt on it.’

Normal for us is things like:

Going out and digging in a huge hole daily in our backyard for a trampoline so it can be as safe as possible — because we already had two broken arms last year (and they were completely unrelated to trampolines)…

Levi not having a volume control button…EVER… ‘nough said…

Zachary asking for his vitamins every morning (he wants his ‘Kiddie Boost’ immune system drops because he thinks it’ll make him more like his cat)…

Pillow fights, sock wars, gun duels, nerf battles, and even who-can-throw-the-other-kid-the-farthest…

Mike asking things like, “Is there any blood? No? Well, then he’s not hurt.”

Owen walking in circles around you while he talks to you because that’s usually the best way for him to vocalize and communicate effectively (sensory processing — and yes, sometimes we feel like owls)…

Hearing a constant barrage of homemade sound effects for every sound you could ever imagine…

Squawking, squawking, and more squawking from Bria…and then more squawking…

Somebody walking in and seeing me *trying* to do a Yoga Booty Ballet DVD, taking one look at the TV and exclaiming, “Mama, those girls are NOT modest” and then having me fail at explaining how some girls exercise in sports bras…

Kicking, punching, jabbing, smacking, and pinching to show brotherly ‘love’…

Puddles of yellow on the toilet seat, next to the toilet seat, on the wall, on the floor — pretty much everywhere BUT inside the toilet bowl…

Benjamin yelling, “Aaaaaaand ACTION!” as he directs his siblings in all of his movies, which almost always end up about zombies or monsters in some way…

Zachary crying…again…because of something nature calls The Pecking Order…

Me ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing over the adorable, girly things Bria gets to be dressed up in on Sundays for church — and then presenting her to all the boys and having them do the same thing…

Laughing fits over Just Dance competitions on the Wii… (You don’t want Mike on your team…shh…I didn’t say that; to be fair, you don’t want me on your team, either)…

Yelling… Yeah, we yell…dangit…

Benjamin wanting to pull all-nighters and thinking he can sleep way in just because he’s homeschooled (“That’s the whole reason we homeschool, Mama.” Um, no, it’s not, Squirt.)…

Lots of happy tail wags from the dogs and loud purrs from the cats…and messes to go along with…

Bandaids. LOTS and LOTS of Bandaids.

Bloody noses…yep, lots of those too…

Me wishing I could have some Me time…and staying up too late at night to try to fit some in…

Vacuuming, sweeping, and vacuuming again, but having Bria STILL be able to use her pincer-like thumb and forefinger expertise to pick up the teensiest, tiniest speck of something off the floor — and of course snacking on it…

Mike pulling muscles in his legs — twice — when he tried to race one of his boys…

Things breaking — ALWAYS things breaking — glasses, toys, dishes, furniture, windshields (HOW many times did we say to not climb on the car??!!)…

Levi making EVERYONE laugh — A LOT — generally when doing something or saying something kinda naughty…

Minecraft and Roblox and playing with friends…

Everyone wanting bedtime stories read to them, and even the kids reading them to each other (melt)…

Dirty dishes, dirty diapers, dirty tables, dirty windows, dirty laundry, dirty anything and everything…

Owen mastering some extravagant new block-building creation program on the computer (that he spent hours and hours making)…

Food. The absolutely insane amounts of food eaten in this household (2 dozen eggs for breakfast — easily. We need chickens.)…

Running to play practice, running to a homeschool field trip, running to a dentist appointment, running errands, running to church, running to scouts, running to a play group, running to a singing event, and of course Mike always running to work or Rotary and Scoutmaster stuff and volunteer stuff and community stuff and everything else…

Trying to slow down and not run so much…

…and tons, tons more, filled with a combination of hugs and kisses and I Love You’s and I Don’t Like You Right Now’s and smiles and tears and laughs and screams and energy and exhaustion and everything in between…

Yeah. That’s a start on what our Normal is.

And I wouldn’t change one ounce of it.

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Can You Blame Me?

In a family of 7, of which 5 are boys, we go through lots and lots and lots of dishes. Add to that the fact that we make most of our food from scratch because 1) It’s healthier, 2) It’s less expensive (well, sometimes) and 3) We have several different food allergies…and add to that the fact that all of my kids are home almost all day, every day…and that we make almost all of the baby’s food from scratch, too…

Now add to THAT the fact that we don’t have a dishwasher.

Anyway, you get the picture. And in this picture, you can see how I’ve so artfully stacked upon stacked the freshly-washed dishes upon dishes.

My family can’t stand it.

They think it’s really annoying how many dishes I cram into that biggest-I-could-find dish drainer. But when we go through as many dishes as we do every day, you HAVE to cram it and stack it or you would be able to keep up even less than we already can!

My three oldest boys are on a revolving chore chart which we rotate weekly. We lump a few chores together for each. Being on the Dishes section is the most disliked chore by far, and they dread it. I usually help them do their dishes because I know how daunting it can be — and how quickly it can become overwhelming if you don’t keep up. And sometimes I’ll make a trade with them, like: I will do a load of dishes for them if they do laundry for me, or something like that.

Once in a while, we will use paper plates. This morning, Owen was majorly complaining about having to do dishes, and he said we should just use paper plates every time we eat. I told him that is like throwing away trees, and his response was: “Mama, just because YOU are a hippie doesn’t mean EVERYONE wants to be.”

Hippie comments aside, aren’t you impressed with my dish tower? I’m getting pretty good at it. 🙂

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