listen, here.

I think we can safely say that my blog updating comes in spurts.. One week, four updates; next four weeks, none.

What can I say? Sometimes the muse is there, and sometimes i have sick children, Easter to plan, food poisoning, you know... the usual stuff.

Life around here is great. And busy. Have I said that before?

We're just rocking along. I have come to realize, more clearly, that these are the years that I'll treasure. Not that I don't treasure them now - i do - but i think i'll treasure these in a very specific way, especially once they're gone.

I've written before about knowing, in a present moment, there will one day be profound nostalgia for that moment. I feel that about all of our life right now.

It is not always clean

(In the last four days, not one, but two, entire gallons of tea have ended up on my kitchen floor. not in a pitcher, but in two different vast, daunting puddles of brown, sweet goodness. Collins has learned to throw cheerios from his high chair.



ada brooks's artistic inclinations are scattered, ambitious, colorful and everywhere.)

It is not always fun.

(Ada Brooks had a nightmare the other night about worms in her stomach eating her from the inside out....and yesterday declared that she'd be steering clear of the compost pile for a while because of the dream)
(do not resist the urge to laugh at her. she won't know. she doesn't know that i've laughed a lot about her new compostclear lifestyle)
(also, if you don't know why she's steering clear of the compost, get out of the house, plant plants, read books about the outdoors, or just think for two seconds.)

It is not always easy.

(After three straight days of standardized tests last week, ada's brain is fried and i feel mine has been affected as well. Saturday, for about 24 hours, i suffered from acute and terrifying food poisoning. See tea spills reference above.)

It is not always clear.

(Paul is trying to find a summer job, we're trying to make some final decisions about school for next year for both of the older ones, collins is babbling incoherently, but constantly.)

But.... we are happy. So happy.

The westminster shorter catechism sums it up perfectly. Its first question is, "what is man's chief end?" And yes, even those boring divines put it in a way that inspires feasting at my house. Answer, "To glorify God and enjoy Him forever."

So, when people ask me what I do (in a tone that implies to have worth I should probably go to an office each day....), I'm going to start saying, "well, i do a lot of enjoying God."



Eason says the best things ever. Well, second to his sister. No, she's second to him. No... wait - regardless, they're both great. Children are a gift from the Lord - and a big part of that gift, for us, is sheer quotability.

Me + 3 kids + Driving down the road.
Ada is reading all the street signs to her brother. (Do you remember when your reading became competent enough that you could read all the signs, no matter how fast your mother was driving? big day).

ada says, "Burger King"
eason says, "yummy!"
ada says, "Payroll Advance"
eason says, "what's that?"
ada says, "I don't really know, but daddy says it's a bad idea"


I made 250 miniature cupcakes yesterday. Ada Brooks informed me that she would only help if, "mama, you must turn off npr in the kitchen. it's not all that interesting"

Eason asked me the other day why i was wearing a wedding ring if i wasn't going to a wedding.

ada brooks said to her daddy a few weeks ago, "daddy, the thing i've been wondering for years is do we control us or does God control us?"

Paul barely resisted the urge to say, "sweetheart, hell if i know."

(when i sent her question to a few friends, my two most theologically minded sent back "tell her yes." - aren't they terribly clever?)


Eason got two fish for his birthday. A yellow fish and a blue fish. (yes, real fish. no, we're not crazy. they're fish - not spider monkeys, which were what he really wanted.)

He named the yellow fish "fred" -
He named the blue fish.

Wait for it.


bluefred.

Speaking of birthdays, Eason turned three a few weeks ago.



He's thrilled. He feels bigger, he says. He had various, small, yellow celebrations.





[If you don't know, eas has a passion for yellow rivaled only by my passion for green]

Ada Brooks wore a yellow bow for about ten days in honor of him. And a yellow bandana sometimes.


She's secretly (and i do mean secretly) really sweet.

We had the annual St. Paddy's parade.

It was great fun, if a bit on the raunchy side. I'll wait a year to debate whether it's worth the inevitable, "mama - why is that girl wearing that" or this year's, "mama - why is that girl dancing in a cage?"

We had Easter.



Which is good, because now i can go back to more frequent happy houring and wasting my life updating facebook. Because the world cares, dammit, about what is going on in the forster house.

It is beautiful out and we've been spending time outdoors a lot.


This makes all members of the family happier. Even colLINS who loves all the breeze and plants and generally not being smothered by his active, hysterical siblings.


I'll end with a recommendation for the week:

When you have a 5 1/2 year old, a 3 year old and a 9 month old, you cannot really go on walks, per se. Because two of your children want to actually walk. And they are slow. Plus you've got a stroller with which to contend.

(and no, i won't start ending sentences with prepositions just to avoid sounding snobby. why? because i am snobby. there are still grammar rules. obey them.)

(if you disagree with me on this, please know that you are in good company. Paul and i constantly fight about it. I don't care. I'm right. all of you people are wrong. And on this issue, i shall never submit)

back to the walking. Regardless of its lack of feasibility, you must endeavor to walk. Especially when you live in an 80 year old neighborhood, the days are lengthening, and the highs are in the seventies. So what if it takes you twenty three minutes to go 1/4 of a mile. This is why they are called strollers, my friends.

It can be tedious. It can be slow. It can be not only tortuous, but actual torture. But, you must slow down and walk.

But...there is hope. Paul and I have solved this problem. We have removed the boredom and the frustration from the family walk. How?

What also takes 23 minutes? You don't know?

Me to drink a glass of wine, and Paul to drink a beer.

Yes, those out there in internet land, on any given spring evening, you can find the forster family of five (and sometimes the dogs), on a Happy Hour Hike.

I'm sure our neighbors talk bad about that family that walks down the street with drinks in their hands. Ask me how much I care. Actually, don't. I'll use ugly words.

But, this is my recommendation. Try it. Even if you don't have little people slowing you down. Put on your shoes (can be flip flops if you're walking at eason forster speed), get up, pour yourself the adult beverage (or nonadult - that works too, especially if it's lemonade or sweet tea) of your choice, and stroll around the block. Wave at people, stop and talk, explain to your daughter for 527th time that she cannot pick flowers out of other people's yards, and enjoy the spring evenings.

Nostalgia is fast approaching, and you should probably make it worthwhile.