The Roehrig Family Chronicle

While washing dinner dishes I was greeted by the site of four barefooted, short and t-shirt wearing children chasing behind their father on the lawn mower. Cheeks were pink from a day of sunshine and smeared with a layer of dirt, feet had turned alien green from running through the fresh cut grass clipping, and they were all giggles and smiles. They had been begging their Dad to mow the lawn for days, a sign spring is here and summer creeping closely behind.

Over the last couple of days, warm temperatures have descended upon South Eastern Michigan. Michigan is a fickle soul, changing weather is a trademark and never a constant to depend on. I know this temptation of warmth will be followed by a chill or endless rain, but for now, I take deep breaths of the warm air and deeply inhale the smell spring with a hint of summer and enjoy my freshly painted tows visible in the my sandals.

The unplanted raised garden bed has become a favorite place. Future cherry tomato plants, and cucumbers have yet to be planted and the wide open dirt beckons the children. Dirt, for some reason, is better than sand. Given a shovel, they have dug and dug and dug some more. Dump trucks have been retrieved from the basement playroom and given the chance to become part of a quarry and race on newly made dirt roads.

I have seen Max sit in the dirt, legs drawn up to his chest, head resting on his knees, pick up handful and handful of dirt and sprinkle it over and over, in a almost trance inducing way, onto his feet. I watched him from the patio, pretending to be buried in a book, but instead memorized by the calming effect this simple act was having on my five year old little boy. I snapped out of it quickly and walked slowly toward him. He was focused and never even realized I was close by to take a quick picture. The click of the camera pulled him from his moment and he smiled and asked for a hug. Although dirt covered, it was a hug I couldn’t refuse from my little boy.

I say little boy, but recently, he really has become a young man in a way. Questions popping up from his sweet thin lips, only to leave Tom and I baffled and unsure how to answer. His large feet and hands keep growing and so does his length, just shy, mere centimeter, of Noelle. He talks about kindergarten, as if it will be the most exciting thing to even happen to him. He states knowingly, he will have a lot of fun, then reassuringly let’s me know that he will miss me, but he’ll home before dinner and promises to tell me all about his day. Although, full of constant piss and vinegar, it seems to be sweetened a little. Maybe, I’m getting closer to losing him to school and friends and the daily grind that will consume nine months of the year for the next twelve years. Whatever the reason, I am enjoying him more each day and when he’s outside, he is a King.

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Pant less weather it has been dubbed around here. I am hesitant to write about this, as it means it is real, but this blog was created to document the happenings around the house and this is noteworthy. We have dipped our toes, or sunk our feet, into potty training. Big deep breaths are taken, as this means I am very close to having no children in diapers. Many positive things can be said about this; no diaper bag filled with wipes and diapers, no awkward changes in dirty bathrooms, and I could go on. Instead I find myself saddened by this transition. Zane has dabbled in potty training over the last year or so, my lack of commitment and want to keep him a baby has squashed anything before it became real. Now, he is more than ready, leaving dry diapers all night and demanding a change as soon as anything appears, along with telling us before he would go.

It is time I keep telling myself and so we have begun. Boys are interesting creatures and many a cleanup has occurred from lack of aiming and not knowing how to point down and then keeping it in one place as opposed to this and that side. Even better is the shock when it starts to go off and he wasn’t ready, everything around him (he insists on having his “night night” with him) needs to be laundered. The little potty sits in the family room ready and waiting for all the false alarms, almost made it tries, the even more confidence boosting correct attempts. He’s doing well. I am not. This growing up thing is tough on me, but the cute little underwear covered booty just may be cute enough to make up for the loss of babydom.

There was a time, when I had one, I would stare, mouth wide open, at other children running around outside in just underwear and a t-shirt. That was then, now, I don’t give a damn and even encourage Zane to run and play and have fun in those underwear as we are in the depths of potty training. I’ve even found myself clapping at a naked little boy as he waters the bush. Care of what other’s think fades into what is necessity and more importantly,survival in motherhood. He’s doing it and we’ll figure out the proper manners later, most likely.
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Now I've focused on my boys, so of course it is onto the girls.

Violette can swing and does swing like nobody’s business. She learned last year how to pump and hasn’t stopped since. She’ll disappear from inside and always can be found, by herself, going back and forth, melting the frustrating of a fight with her brothers away, or signing a sweet little song to herself.

I find myself reliving my childhood through the girls. They play so well together, letting their imaginations sore, creating things together, and laughing and giggling together. They are becoming true friends, there to help each other out and share secrets. Reminding me of the yester days with Charlotte. Few things can beat that sisterly bond and with summer approaching I see many adventures and stories beginning followed by whispered conversations in bed at night with these two beautiful girls.

I guess I can’t talk about the girls without adding a couple of pictures of the boys. They wrestle and sword fight and throw things at each other and…they are boys and they do what boys are supposed to do. They do it together though, causing mayhem and chaos whenever possible. It’s a welcomed chaos, a mayhem I am learning to embrace, chuckle at, and even more importantly encourage. There are tears, always, but I am optimistic they are learning some valuable lessons. A mother can hope.

I end this post, excited for the next few months of bonfires, hours outside, cold drinks, Popsicles, water play, and many more exciting fun summer activities bursting to come forth and keep us busy and filled with laughter and memories.

It's a beautiful day outside, Zane and Violette fell asleep after a long morning at our MOPS (mother's of preschoolers) meeting and Max is outside with a shovel, digging in the garden. I see a laundry basket filled to the brim with clothing and toys strewn across the floor, but my updating of this blog is calling me.

Easter came and went, filled with lots of good times. Grandma and Grandpa Goodhue came down to join in the celebration. The sun was out and the air reached a temperature crisp and enjoyable. The children wanted to show them the trails at the park. We climbed the felled tree limbs and ran the trails.

Of course egg dying was done too:

Being 21/2 now, I see Zane, along with the other three, enjoying and savoring Holiday traditions. The messy egg dye and smelly eggs are something I could do without, but after beginning the process it was hard not to be sucked in with their joy and exuberance over this tradition.

The following week was Noelle’s Spring Break. The week was long, the children irritable and the weather horrible. Days were really not fun, but on Friday we added a little trip and brought the fun back to a dull Spring Break. We headed over to Sturgis to visit the Feyes Family. Also a blast, filled with children playing, and adults laughing and talking. It was a great day.