Mine

I took the kiddos out last weekend to see if I could get some shots that would be worth putting into a Mother's Day card for the grandparents. And when I look at these pictures, I just think I must be the luckiest mom alive. Each child is so different, but so perfect in their own way. Gosh, I love them.

We are Raising Hardy Oregonian Children

On Saturday my daughter played soccer in a downpour. It was her "most favorite game ever" she informed me after the mud bath was finished.

My most favorite quote ever was when she told the other kindergarteners on the team that "we shouldn't use up all our fastness" by running around too much before the game began.

I tried not to wince every time she skipped over and gave me a sloppy wet hug. I tried not to think about laundry, or how many dogs have probably pooped in that exact spot she just face planted on the grass.

I tried to ignore the fact that Thomas was using my umbrella for a broom, and reminded myself how thankful I was that I hadn't had time to shower that morning. That would have been a complete waste.

I really enjoyed seeing how little the kids cared about the rain . . . how it was a novelty, a treat to be completely soaking and filthy and to have their parents cheering them on anyway.

I also try to remind myself of the joy Seth is having every day at recess as he plays soccer on the swampy elementary field when I have to stain-treat the elbows and knees of all his school clothes. His bliss is worth a couple of ruined outfits. I do, however, have a problem with crusty snot stripes on the sleeves.

Little (Big) Boy and Girl

He's turning three this week. My baby. My littlest little one. This is the first time I've ever had a baby turn three without having another baby coming up the ranks to fill the baby spot.

I'd consider having another one, until I see this attitude (in photo). Plus, we are on the cusp of something wonderful. For the first time in eight and a half years we are a diaper-free household (nearly . . . if you don't count bedtime pull-ups). Congratulate me!
Now this one. If I could only carbon copy her, I could be mother to an even dozen. Who cares that she's too scared to kick the soccer ball if it is rolling? If there is a ball on the field at a complete standstill, she owns it. I also had to make a few soccer rules.

Rule #1: No kissing or hugging the little blonde neighbor boy during the soccer game.

Rule #2: Save the skipping and singing for the sidelines.

I'm kind of a mean soccer mom.
She took this picture of me watching the game. She may have more potential as a photographer than an athlete. I'm totally okay with that.