Not really sure what can be said of this shot. But, it ought to start your Halloween weekend off with a laugh.
There is the total hopped up on sugar mess that is our children, and then poor pea in a pod Kolten, who has to be thinking "Help! Mom, why did you leave me with this group?".
It may be because I'm a graduate of Indiana University's School of Journalism; a lover of the written word or an abhorrer of the "R U LOL OMG" way in which the world communicates in this emailing/texting era. But, for whatever reason, I'm in love with Alena's developing ability to write in sentences. 
Dare I say this sentence writing makes me prouder than her crawling did years ago?
She's grasping the difference between periods and question marks. She now writes words she can spell on her own and asks for help in spelling the words that she can't yet spell independently, as she pieces them all together into sentences.
Sentences, I say. Makes me smile just thinking about the kindergarten style letters. I love them.
The Birthday Express mail-order catalogs that show up in our mailbox have birthday paraphernalia ranging from Disney princess themes to Super Mario Bros. A soon-to-be-four-year-old has a whole slew of options.
So, of the dozens and dozens of pages filled with options, which would Alivia pick? Hannah Montana? Hello Kitty? Madagascar?
Yeah, she'll pick none of the above and totally go out on a limb with a bird theme. Hummingbirds, peacocks, peahens and salmon-crested cockatoos. 
Anyone thinking you hop on the internet and order up some peacock plates and a cockatoo banner has another thing coming. And cakes? Most bakeries don't do blue jay butter cream.
I'll hand it to her, she presented a challenge.
Although, this is the very reason why if I could be any of my children, I'd choose her. She's unconventional, introspective and not nearly as easy to sway as one might think. And if nothing else, the kid deserves some kudos for her ability to discuss grapefruit-eating cockatoos. 
With her input, we pulled it off ... bird cake and all; and she was thrilled with the outcome. What's even better? She now has a huge supply of fake birds, bird photos and leftover bird bingo cards in her crafting arsenal to turn into one of a kind masterpieces.
If I were bleeding to death in our kitchen, Trace would be the only one of our children that would come to my rescue. The girls would simply go on about their business, and only wonder what was up when I didn't respond to one of their requests.
That's the difference between sons and daughters. At least one of them.
Granted, with this I have to over look the footballs thrown through the living room knocking down pictures and whatever else might have been in the way; and the sticks, dirt and rocks that don't stay outdoors.
But, at the end of the day, there are three children accepting goodnight kisses and one giving them. 
And while he's the sweetest little guy going, he's also the biggest whiner I know. The following scenario plays out about 2,674 times a day:
Trace: "Mommy?"
Me: "Yes, Trace."
*Crickets*
*More crickets*
Nothing.
There is the rare occasion when his "Mommy?" is followed up with some statement or question, but typically, just silence. I suppose he's just checking to make sure I'm still around.
And I am ... he gives hugs at bedtime too.
I've been absent, lazy and neglectful around here. Although, the time away has been spent pondering.
Mulling around things such as why stones keep showing up in the dryer; and how to turn Alivia's suggestions of hot dogs, bananas and parrot cheese into an acceptable birthday party menu; and some outrageously cool and cute Halloween costume for Alysse. Not much luck has been made on any of these fronts.
Thoughts about families, kids and all their dynamics have also been tossed around in my head. Along with our ever-present notion that the grass is always greener on the other side. Let's face it, at one point or another, we've all thought there is greener grass out there, and we've just been getting the shaft.
On these weightier issues, I have managed to gain a bit more perspective than as to why we have a snail in a Mason jar on our kitchen table.
Our grass is green enough for me.
For all my bitching about fighting kids and toothpaste on the carpet, I couldn't have amassed a greater group of laundry makers had I special ordered each one. For all my worrying about the possibility of three preschool tuitions next year or four college tuitions to one day face (*shudder*), I wouldn't trade my lot in life given the chance. For all the times I'd like to smash Jason's Blackberry or shush his "coaching" during Steeler games during naptime or bedtime, I'd be lost without him ... Blackberry and all.
This realization that the grass - which may appear greener across the street, or down the block, or even across town - really isn't creates a wonderful sense of satisfaction and peace.
Comfort found in what you have, not desire for what you don't. Even if what you have is a half-eaten breakfast burrito stinking up your Suburban.
