Here's your proof...

Swim diapers DON'T work!

Lincoln's Baptism Day

Today Lincoln was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. For all the Talbots and Fletchers who were not able to attend, we missed you , but here are some pictures to make you feel as though you were there. Lincoln played I Know My Father Lives on the piano and his Uncle Greg and primary teacher spoke on baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost. Steve baptized him and confirmed him. We were all very proud of him and the choice he made. It was a special day.

Here we are at the church right before he was baptized:


And us at home afterward:

The Bow: A flattering accessory for any age!

So here are the girls (Laura, me, Hayley) all sporting bows in our hair. The reason: We had to go to a 50's Party at the church for Laura. We were supposed to come in costume, which posed a problem for me. I am creativly-challenged in that way. And I decided that while there have been many advances made since the 1950's, women in general (at least the ones in my generation) don't have the SKILLS necessary to whip out a cute poodle skirt, as they would have done back then. Our costumes were limited, sadly, to bows and Keds. But--poodle skirts or not--we had a fun time.

Here we are pinning the "sunglasses on the Elvis".


Here we are dancing. (I like this picture because it looks like we actually know what we are doing. But truthfully, there are not two worse dancers on the planet.)

Hayley took the all the pictures. In fact, she used up all the memory on the entire memory card. (And all the pictures looked exactly the same--us dancing like fools.) I suspect she did this because she did not want to be in any pictures herself. I'll get her back later for that. I got all summer while they are living with us!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LINCOLN!

Eight years ago today, I went to the hospital and told the nurses that while I was feeling no pain, I felt as though something had "changed". The nurses all exchanged skeptical looks, but decided to check to see if I was dilated anyway, just to put my mind at rest. When I hadn't dilated at all, they were eager to send me packing. But I insisted. This was NOT my first child. I was NOT going home.

Three hours later, Lincoln Robert Fletcher was born. From the first moment of his life we felt his sweet, tender-hearted spirit, and he has remained that way, to this day.

Here are some pictures of his birthday celebrations:

A pre-present kick-off with punch balls. (Always a winner in this house.)


Lincoln's favorite present. What else...Star Wars Lego.


The merry onlookers: Laura, Hayley, and Baby Emi


Eating the birthday cake. Lincoln requested Betty Crocker's "Fun-fetti" cake with chocolate frosting. Awesome. Unlike my esteemed mother and grandmother, I don't do "from scratch" if I can possibly avoid it.

Happy Eighth, Lincoln! We love you!

(PS! We all want to wish a very Happy Birthday to Aunt Marci, too! We miss you and wish you weren't so far away. Have a wonderful day, and be sure to ignore all responsibililty and indulge yourself in only those things that will make you smile. We love you! From all of us here in Iowa.)

This Blog is Turning Me into a Monster!

Don't be fooled into thinking this sweet little picture of my princess was taken effortlessly. The truth is it is one of a hundred pictures (at least) taken while I chased Noelle around the house saying, "Smile, Noelle! Cheese! COME BACK HERE!!! No, Noelle! Stop it! Now, SMILE! NO!!! STOP IT!!! SMILLLLLLLEEEE, DANG IT!!!"

This is the only one that didn't have her pulling on her bow. Or picking her nose. Or lifting up her skirt. Or screaming at me. So I had to use it. I wanted Grandma to see Noelle in the pretty dress she bought for her...but WHATEVER! `

A Few of Our Favorite Things

This post is for Grandma:

Laura with her beloved new aquarium.


Lincoln in his favorite t-shirt holding his latest Lego creation.


Isaac on his favorite means of transportation.


Noelle in the bath. (We cannot even SAY the word "bath" in this family, unless we intend to give her one. The consequences are too...loud.)

The Perils that Befall House Guests

This morning, at precisely 4:45 AM, the following crime was committed. The perpetrator--Steve A.K.A "Head of Household"--was caught disturbing the peace.

A complaint was filed by a Mr.Greg Bean, who claims to have been living in the perpetrator's basement, reported hearing a loud crashing sound at the above mentioned time. Mr. Bean leaped out of bed, threw open his bedroom door, and proceeded to Karate-chop said perpetrator. At once, Mr. Bean realized he was not facing a burglar, as previously suspected, but instead his brother-in-law.

The perpetrator apologized at once, claiming he could not sleep and had a hankering to play a computer game in the basement, that he had done his best to tiptoe and move with stealth, but in a lax moment, he accidentally knocked over one of the speakers.

Mr. Bean has dropped all charges and was heard saying shortly thereafter, "This experience has taught me not to jump to conclusions at such an unsightly hour--at least not while in my skivvies."

A reenactment of how it went down.


And...the reconciliation. Over a bowl of marshmallow maties.

My Green Thumb Morning

I've known it was coming for weeks...the time when I would have to get out there and try to salvage my pathetic yard so that the neighbors would not talk about us behind our backs. Last year, after having delusions of grandeur, we attempted to plant a glorious perennial garden in our front yard. And why shouldn't we? All of our neighbors have flawless perennial gardens. We even called my brother--the landscape architect--for advice. We purchased 150 plants (from a catalogue--all half off) and spent many, many back-breaking days hauling out the hideous rocks and planting in their stead our precious tiny green things.

What we didn't count on: Rabbits! To sum up, only nine of the 150 plants ever grew to fruition, no matter how much we sprayed, sprinkled or sent Steve out screaming with his hoe (eerily resembling Mr. Mac Gregor). We were devastated.

I learned something valuable last summer. My next house will have NO flower beds. Just lovely, neat grass and shrubs. And the easiest way to add cheer and color is in the form of (drum roll, please)...hanging baskets and pots! Those are the two solutions to my gardening woes. So this morning I decided to document my pursuit of gardening-made-easy. Here's how it went:

First I dropped Laura and Lincoln off at school. I told them I wanted to take a picture of them in front of the school.

"No way," said Laura.

"Yes. Get out there and stand over by that sign."

"Okay. But you have to stay in the car to take it."

"No way. So you'd better hurry if you don't want anyone to see."

Followed by a frenzy of "Hurry, Lincoln! Hurry! Hurry!"



Then Noelle and I drove over to Lowe's. Here is Noelle in all her morning glory (or stupor) sitting in the cart.



The hanging baskets are the easiest! And Ha! I've foiled the rabbits!



This pot took all of ten minutes to get from "Blah" to "TaDa!"

Where's the Fun in Fundraiser?

So yesterday we took my sister and brother-in-law to our kids school carnival, and they--Hayley and Greg, that is--managed to stay all of twenty minutes. (Strike two for Jenn and her efforts to convince family members of the virtue of moving to Iowa via the sterling school district here. For further clarification, see the Post: Puzzling Puzzles below.) It's true, it was totally boring...for adults. The kids had a blast. My theory: after being shut up all winter long indoors, they are game for ANYTHING! I think that must be the magical formula for getting your kids to be more appreciative.

Here are some of their magical moments captured:
(PS, Steve took the pictures, so he is not in any of them, nor Noelle because she was crying too much, nor am I because I was selling raffle tickets, and therefore had to rely on these precious few photos to experience their delight.)


Isaac going down the slide. I was told Lincoln kept trying to roll down it, therefore rendering a photograph of himself indistinguishable.



The boys jumping in the large inflatables--the hit of the night!



Laura sporting the cake she won in the Cake Walk.




As soon as we arrived home, I caught Laura digging in to the center of her cake, marking it hers, and hers alone.

The funny things kids say...

Laura: (On a mother's day card) Five adjectives that describe my mother are kind, hard-working, takes care of me, makes food, and...lays down.


Lincoln: (In a conversation with Laura while on a long drive) Its a good thing we have cars. They are a great invention.
Laura: Yeah. Otherwise we would have to walk everywhere.
Lincoln: Yeah, who would want to walk everywhere? Planes are a great invention, too.
Laura: Yeah.
Lincoln: Yeah, because who would want to drive everywhere?


Isaac: I can't wear this shirt.
Mom: Why not?
Isaac: It says "Size 4."
Mom: That right. You're a size 4.
Isaac: But I am 4 and a HALF!



Noelle can't talk a whole lot yet, but she does entertain us when she gets into the laundry. (FYI: This underwear came out of the CLEAN laundry pile.)

Is it the end of the road for Whitey?

This morning, at the insane hour at 4 AM (the hour in which Steve leaves for work) I helped him move our dead car (a 96 Kia Sephia) out of the middle of the road in front of our house, and guide it down to the bottom of our circle where it could rest in peace beside the island in the center thereof.

The task was not as easy as it sounds. First of all, I was having a difficult time waking up. Steve had me behind the wheel, steering, while he was at the bumper, simultaneously pushing, and he kept yelling orders like, "Turn all the way to the left!" My drowsy brain could not easily process any of his orders. Left? Which way is that? After a moment of intense focus I was able to realize I had been turning to the right. There were several similar orders, all getting similar results. I had the window rolled down so that I could respond with the occasional "What?" "Huh?" or "I don't even understand what the heck you are talking about!" without even the smallest consideration of our sleeping neighbors.

When the task was accomplished, Steve took off in my sister's car. (She and her husband are still sleeping peacefully in our basement and are unaware that they will have to remain carless today--but somehow I think they will understand. Their car "Rhonda the Honda" just recently replaced "Lois". Lois had much experience in multiple resuscitations and jump-startings, and she, too, one day came to an untimely and inconvenient end.)

Steve would have just taken our mini-van to work. But last night as we were driving to the park, it started smoking. We managed to pull back into our driveway, as Steve muttered, "Don't worry. You should be able to get the kids to school and back tomorrow. I think." Then he got out of the car and slammed the door shut, as he grumbled, "I just put new tires on this car."

I am a little panicky. We can't replace BOTH cars. But both have been on their last leg for the past three years, and we have managed to keep them hanging on while enjoying the perks. Perks? you may ask. Well, as it is 5 AM, and I could not go back to sleep, I have come up with a short list of the perks of owning the two pieces of junk that are taking space in our garage (and...um...the bottom of our circle):

1. Both vehicles have been paid for, which has enabled us to buy things like, say, food and running water.

2. We never have to worry about their being stolen. In fact, I worry more about someone taking off with the car seats inside (because they are worth more than the vehicles themselves).

3. We have had all sorts of exciting adventures as they have begun their decline. For example, our van has has had no air-conditioning for a couple of years. There is a hole somewhere leaking coolant, and we keep taking it to various service stations to fill it up with a dyed coolant, with the intent that we will bring it back within a week so they can find the source of the leak and fix it. But we are too cheap to come back. The coolant lasts a good month before it empties all the way out, and we figure if we just refill it 3 times in a summer at hundred dollars a pop, we can save the $1500 it would cost to replace the AC. The adventure, you ask? It lies in alternating the service stations, so they don't catch on to us.

The question that all adults must ask themselves at some time is this: At what point do you abandon your car? At what point to you say "It is not worth it to sink another penny into the money-sucking hole!"

Could this be THAT time for Whitey (our Sephia)...or perhaps Speedy (the kids' name for the van)? Or (gulp) both?

The Potato is Coming!

Tis the season in Iowa for tornados, a season which adults seem to tolerate especially well, at least after they have lived here a few years and the complacency has set in. I think it must have something to do with the fact that adults are so overwhelmingly grateful to have winter over, and that tornado sirens are preferable to ice storms, in general.

But for children, tornado season inspires great fear. Especially in the above-pictured child. That would be Isaac, my four-year-old.

Last year at this time, I took the kids to the mall to take advantage of a fabulous sale at Old Navy (girls jeans for $3.99!) While there, I was engrossed and absorbed in the rapid scanning of price tags to locate such a deal, when my children began freaking out. We were at the back of the store, near an emergency exit door, and my kids were pointing at the ground, squealing at water that was pouring in through the crevices! Green water! With cockroaches floating in it! It began flooding the store, several inches high, and I grabbed my pile of sale jeans (note: I grabbed the jeans, not the kids) and headed for the front of the store. (A second note: my kids followed me obediently, as I knew they would. None of them wanted to be swallowed up by the nasty green water.)

Just then a mall security guard entered and announced that a tornado had touched down just 5 miles away in a small town called Tiffin, and that the tornado was headed our way, and that everyone in the mall needed to evacuate the stores and seek shelter in one of the cement hallways of the mall designated for just such an emergency.

The cashiers were the first to flee, and I (in my complacency) grudgingly set down my coveted pile of jeans, and began to follow everyone out. Here, it is important to remind you, that while many adults in Iowa are not unduly frightened by such an incident (as the odds of the tornado actually striking the EXACT spot of your location are very slim indeed), children never, NEVER acquire such peace of mind on the issue.

As soon as the security guard announced the tornado, my children came unglued.

I'll never forget as we hurried down the mall corridors, caught up in the wave of panicked mall-goers heading for the tornado shelter, Isaac crying in a moment of frenetic hysteria, "The potato is coming! The potato is coming!"

Of course, nothing came of it. We stuffed ourselves into the tiny cement hallway, and the kids played paper, rock, scissors with the sweet college freshman sitting beside us, and within a half hour, we were purchasing the jeans (Laura is wearing a pair of them this very day) and returning back home.

But from now on in our family, whenever we hear a siren, or a weather forcast, or see a storm forming on the horizon, we all chant together, "The potato is coming! The potato is coming!" And Isaac, now a year older and a year wiser, blushes and giggles in mild embarrassment. I love that kid!

Puzzling Puzzles

So this week I entered the room while Lincoln was attempting to do his spelling homework, and my sister Hayley (who is staying with us this summer with her new little family) said, "I can't believe how difficult his homework is!"

To which I cockily replied, "He never seems to have a problem with it." I puffed myself up in motherly pride, and what I was really thinking was, "My boy's smarter than a 23 year-old."

Lincoln piped up. "This time I do."

"Yeah, check it out," said Hayley's husband Greg (who is in law school and whose spelling skills should far exceed that of a second grader).

Intrigued now, I bent over his paper and took a gander. He was working on a crossword puzzle

"Look at this clue," said Hayley. "It reads: 'A measure of heat loss from skin due to increased wind speed.' I mean, do you even know what that is?"

I look at his spelling list to see which word clearly applies. The words are as follows: twice, spy, child, July, kind, wild, fight, climb, nightmare, behind, wind, and siren.

What the hecky-becky?

Greg spoke up. "And what about this clue. It says: 'Harm against a young child'. The only thing that fits is the word 'child'. Why would they decide that the best definition for the word 'child' would be 'harm against a young child'?"

"Yeah," said Hayley. "Why would they suggest abuse?"

Lincoln snickered.

"I thought you said that the Iowa public school system was the best in the country," Hayley accused.

I pulled a face. So much for my most persuasive argument in attempting to lure family members to move close by. I realize at once that all my efforts had been undermined by this one sad sheet of homework, and there was nothing I could say to redeem it. Surrendering, I shrugged and admitted, "Yeah. This is crap."

So we all made a feeble attempt to help Lincoln fill in the blanks to his teacher's satisfaction. And after the job was finished I went to bed wondering why a tree had to die so that Lincoln could sit around, laughing at a bunch of adults seated around a table scratching their heads. (And that is saying something because I don't even remotely resemble a tree-hugger...though (small disclaimer)I do recycle.)

Luckily, this morning I found him finishing the rest of his homework all by himself. This time it was a word search, and it was completely age-appropriate and non-distressing. So I took the above picture and decided to call the other night a fluke. Chapter closed.

Ode to Baby

I am obsessed with my baby (who is almost not even a baby anymore, as she is nearly 18 months) and so is everyone in our household. There is no "gush quota" in this home. We cannot help ourselves. Noelle is a joy, joy, joy. She cannot stop kissing things. People, toys, furniture. The simplest prompt, such as "Noelle, kiss the couch!" gets immediate results. And once she starts, she can't stop! She must kiss everybody and everything! We can't get enough! She is also a hug maniac. I have found her, on several occasions hugging the stairs if there is nothing better to hug. (Note: You can differentiate between a hug and something else by listening for her accompanying "hug sound" which goes like this: Mmmmm.)

I do not mean to say that she is a perfect child. But whenever we get frustrated with her--and we do frequently, as she has mastered the subtle art of the temper tantrum--she only needs to bring on the smooches and snuggles for us to forgive and forget. And wouldn't you, too?

Exciting news!

Laura can finally join the ranks of bicycle riders free from the crippling influence of training wheels. It's true, she is on the older end. Nine-years-old and just mastered the skill this week. I admit, it was starting to get embarrassing summer after summer, as the other five-year-olds of the neighborhood went zooming past Laura training wheel-free (while she was their senior at the ripe age of 6, then 7, then 8, and then...oh no...), but to Laura's defense, we DID move into a cul-de-sac on a very steep hill. And Laura is overly cautious and anti-risk (which has its advantages in this crazy world, so we have, on occasion encouraged this tendency).

But finally we had to bite the bullet. I was not going to sit outside with the other mothers of the circle and endure this one more summer. Steve and I sat Laura down and had a conversation that went something like this:

MOM: Laura, you are not allowed to read any more books until you learn how to ride without training wheels.

LAURA (gaping): Seriously?

DAD: Yes. You can do it. It's not as hard as you think.

LAURA (sniffing): Yes, it is. I might get hurt.

MOM: You'll be fine. Give it a chance and you'll learn in a single day. Promise. And while you're working at it, could you not tell anyone who you are or that you know us at all? Thanks.

LAURA: (Scowls.)

But she is a good little work horse and a fast learner (when she actually tries, which she had not before done the previous summers). It took only two short days for her to feel comfortable enough to join the other five-year-old speed demons as they raced down the street.

Hallelujah! Mission accomplished.

It's Sunny in Iowa!

Now that we have survived the dreary record-breaking winter, we are ready to try all sorts of new endeavors...such as blogging. I admit, it's intimidating, but here goes:

A little summary: All six of us (Steve, Jenn, Laura, Lincoln, Isaac, and Noelle) live in Iowa where Steve is currently doing a residency at the University of Iowa Hospital. We have lived here for six years now and we LOVE it!

Here we are!

LAURA: Age 9. Loves dragons, books, nature, science and boys (just as friends, though).

LINCOLN: Age 7. Loves Lego, Lego Star Wars, and Star Wars. (He's also very nice.)

ISAAC: Age 4. Loves Lego, Lego Star Wars, and Star Wars. (And his baby sister.)

STEVE: Age 33. Loves Lego, Lego Star Wars, and Star Wars. (Do you notice a theme?)

NOELLE: Age 1. Loves hugs and kisses, music, and going "bye bye".

JENN: Age 31. Loves books, hugs and kisses, and Legos once they have been neatly put back into their containers.