After five years and three children, there are days when I think, “I’ve got this whole parenting thing pretty much figured out.” Then almost immediately, I fall right on my butt. Sometimes literally.

Earlier this week, we went to the pool with friends and were getting ready to leave – dangerously close to naptime – and Peach, my three year old daughter, decided she wasn’t going to “come here” when I called her, so I ended up chasing her around the baby pool – my first mistake. I was just going to grab her up and dry her off so we could get going, but it gets slippery around there, and I ended up on my butt with several other moms asking if I was okay and saying how awful that looked. Great. Come on, Peach.

After the whole falling-on-butt thing, I was just ready to go home, then of course V. did a #2 in her swim diaper. Is there really anything more gross? Probably, but nothing that I could think of at that moment.

Friends are a good thing, especially those that understand the frustration that can sometimes accompany wrangling several small children. Mandy swooped down, handed me a baggie to put the swim diaper in, and said with a smile, “Wow, that was a pretty intense five minutes, huh?” Through the frustration, I remembered right then – they are just kids, and I am the adult, and this is all kind of funny in a way…

Then there are days like today, when everything my kids say is hilarious and I can’t stop quoting them… Does this have to do with the fact that my kids are miraculously perfectly-behaved today, or is their mother taking things more lightly? Makes me wonder.

The quality of life my kids have on a day to day basis depends on MY attitude. Yikes. I recently read (on Pinterest, of course) a quote that jarred my world.

I know it’s true because I can still hear my mom’s voice when I’m making tough decisions or daydreaming or whatever. Sometimes quotes from her just randomly pop in my head without even trying.

As summer winds down, I’ve been spending some extra time snuggling my soon-to-be kindergartener just a little tighter and trying – always trying at least – to be patient with all three of my maniacs. If I can’t be patient and loving, how will they learn to be patient and loving of others?

I’m realizing that these years go by much, much too quickly. Soon these littles will all be in school all day, then in high school, college and out of my reach. In the blink of an eye they’ll be out of the house. I’m going to miss this.

Today I’m going to take a deep breath, pray for patience, and realize that what I’m looking at RIGHT NOW will be one of my favorite memories when I’m eighty.

Growing up, I had the most cousins of all my friends. My dad is one of 9 and each of them is married and has 2-4 children, so you can imagine how that number can large quickly. Most of them lived in our hometown, so we saw each other a lot and were good friends. One of my uncles had a river camp, and one time we got inside inner tubes and rolled down the levee (which is a giant sand hill that keeps the water in the river when in floods – for all you city folk). We also swam in the creek at South Park several times, burnt each other with illegal fireworks, caught frogs and fish in the pond in Grandma’s back yard, fought, played, and cussed at each other in secret (sorry Mom!).

Anyway, I always wanted my children to grow up with cousins who could take them a bit out of their comfort zone, have crazy good fun, and learn from each other. Then reality hits: I still live in our hometown, but my brother and two sisters live in three different time zones, the closest (Little Sister) being a “quick” 7.5 hour drive away. Big Sister is the only one who has kids, and they are a mere 8 hour drive away. Even though these cousins might not see each other too often, our little ones love each other and had a great time on this most recent visit.

The three boys took a trip to Pops’ farm and got to swim in the pond, pick tiny pumpkins, fish, and pee outside.

Pictures of the girls to come soon!

My sweet little guy turned four today. Four years ago at this moment, I was still in labor, not quite a mama yet. After 41.5 weeks of pregnancy and nearly twenty-four hours of induced labor, I was exhausted and just wanted to meet my baby. I expected our baby to look like my husband. I’m not sure why, but I just knew he would.

TT in 2008, when he was about a year old. I can't believe he's four today.

Then he came out and they put him in my arms, soaking wet and screaming (it’s a boy!), and I recognized him. I really did. He looked like me. I cried and just kept saying, “My baby! My baby!” (emphasis on the MY.) It seemed unreal that God could give us such a splendid gift.

That night, I never could have imagined how I’d feel on his fourth birthday. Well, today I feel joyful that we’ve made it this far. I feel sad that my guy will be going to kindergarten in just one year. I feel glad that he still gets in bed with me in the morning to snuggle. I feel closer to my husband than ever because of the struggles, laughter and love we’ve experienced parenting our children together.

Four is going to be a great year. He’s big enough to have a real conversation, and he has all kinds of new “great ideas” all the time. He still loves cars. He also plays pretend, going to work “like daddy” with his tool belt, making his guys ride their plastic horses, and even “cooking dinner” with his sister on her kitchen set.

Today I am thankful for TT, my curly-headed baby turning into a rough and tumble boy.

What are you thankful for today?