My Brillant Children

As I have mentioned before, I am teaching a section of Formation of the Christian Mind (freshman orientation) and as part of the course, the students were required to take a personality test. So, I took the test so I could share the results with my class. I was an even split between two personalities: Choleric, the extrovert, the doer, the optimist and Melancholy, the introvert, the thinker, the pessimist. I remember taking this same test when I was in college, and the professor commenting that he had never seen that combination before...so good, I'm an oddball. I knew that. Call it bipolar, blame it on the fact that I am a Gemini (although I put absolutely no stock in horoscopes), but apparently I have a split personality.

The test has long lists of attributes for each personality, most of which I would agree with...It even has a section which lists attributes as a parent. This is what it says about my parenting style...

The Choleric as a Parent:
Exerts sound leadership
Establishes goals
Motivates family to action
Knows the right answer
Organizes household

The Melancholy as a Parent:
Sets high standards
Wants everything done right
Keeps home in good order
Picks up after children
Sacrifices own will for others
Encourages scholarship and talent

All of which, I would agree with...I expect a lot of my kids. And they always rise to my expectations, and exceed them.

Case in Point: When Rhian comes home from school and sits down to do her homework; this is what often happens...
There is Rhian, diligently working math problems, and Elizabeth who insists upon doing homework as well, and Jacklyn, who just does everything her older sisters do. They look so academic, don't they?
Rhian really likes math. She is really good at math. However, recently she asked me if her penmanship was good enough on her math homework or if she needed to redo it...Obviously, I can take the setting high standards thing to an extreme.

And then there is Elizabeth, whom insists that she must do homework too. Therefore, I bought a book of preschool worksheets that help her practice forming letters and numbers, and learn to recognize shapes, colors and patterns. She works at least six pages every night. She begs to do them. She loves to do them.

So I am raising classic overachievers...At least that's what I thought before I took the personality test. Now, I am somewhat worried.

The test also lists weaknesses as a parent for each personality. Here is what it says about me:

The Choleric as a Parent:
Tend to Overdominate
Gives answers too quickly
Impatient with poor performance
Won't let children relax
May send them into depression

The Melancholy as a Parent:
Puts goals beyond reach
May discourage children
May be too meticulous
Becomes martyr
Sulks over disagreements
Puts guilt upon children

Isn't that horrible? Now I am terrified. Should I lighten up? Should I hug them and reassure them more? Should I allow them to run free like the wind? No more homework kids! No more chores! Play! Play! Get Dirty!

She looks depressed. Before I thought she was just concentrating, but now maybe she is depressed looking. Does she look depressed to you? Overdominated? Discouraged? Tense?
Look--now this one has to be crying out for help...and she's young enough to be helped! Help! Help! My mother is going to send me into overachiever depression!

Okay, so maybe I am being a little melodramatic. But seriously, this is one of the major reasons I don't homeschool. My children would be warped. Not they are not already. What eight-year-old do you know who offers to redo homework? What four-year-old wants to do worksheets?

Dear Lord, please let my children be normal. Please don't let them be eggheads.

Melodrama aside--maybe I am just raising overachievers.

(Note: Due to the high number of concerned readers who gave me very sweet advice about not being so hard on myself...I felt it necessary to write a disclaimer about this particular blog...I was being sarcastic--I am a very sarcastic person, remember? While I do agree that I am somewhat hard on my kids--please note all of the other blogs where my children at least seem to be happy and well adjusted...Thank you, though, to all those who were concerned about me!)

Cherry-Limeades, Welding, and Sunflowers

Sometimes, when we girls are on the way home from school, David calls. He nevers calls in the middle of the day, so I always know exactly what he wants. A cherry-limeade. From Sonic. Delivered to the middle of nowhere to where he is working.

Occasionally I am annoyed because it interrupts my (not-so-important) plans for the afternoon, but I always agree to bring him one. He is always extremely grateful (it makes me feel like a good wife), and the girls get to see him and "help" him work.

Here is my very cute husband, in his welding cap, holding my very cute baby--and the cherry-limeade.

David drinks enough cherry-limeades in a year to pay the salary of one of the employees. He loves them that much. I once attempted to make them at home for him, my attempt at cutting costs, but apparently they were just not the same.

(Notice the freshly welded corner post behind him, and the long stretch ready and waiting for a line of perfectly driven t-posts. David is the ulitmate fence-builder. He takes pride in it. People notice it. Neighbors recruit his help. Elizabeth thinks daddy's new fences are "berry bootiful." And they are--no one can build a fence quite like David.)



Rhian is always the first to offer her help. Here she is "helping" neighbor Jerry measure a pipe and lineup the next cut. He is ever-patient, ever-willing to accept her help (and advice). Jerry will be a grandpa for the first time this fall. We are very excited for him. He will be a tremedous grandpa. He has had a few years of practice with our kids--not to mention years of teaching sunday school to keep him in practice. Although we are quite sad that our kids will not be the center of attention any longer.


Rhian quickly tired of her duties and went off to pick a sunflower instead.

Notice the very large root ball attached.

But Grandpa Mike has a handy-dandy (and very sharp) knife just right for cutting root balls off of sunflowers for little girls. Grandpa Mike makes knives. Extremely beautiful knives that are now in great demand across our little ranching community by both cowboys and hunters. Although I am sure the intended purpose for them is cutting flower stems for little cowgirls.


So then Elizabeth had to have a sunflower too. (Monkey see, monkey do...)


And Grandpa Mike, of course, cut her stem as well. And then he got a lecture about how a sunflower is first a bud and and then opens to have "widdle yewow pikey thwings" (aka petals).


Then Elizabeth sat down on Grandpa Mike's lap, and Jacklyn needed room too. (Monkey see, monkey do...) Doesn't he look quite content with his great-granddaughters on this lap?


And this is the picture for posterity. (It would be perfect if Jacklyn did not have chocolate all over her face, and didn't have such a scrunched up look on her face...) I think I will have it framed for him for Christmas. And he will get all misty, like Grandpa Mike does...he got misty just sitting there with his granddaughters on his lap. He is soft-hearted. I love that about him. And so do the girls. Little girls and soft-hearted grandpas have a special relationship.


So--as you can see, it was worth it to drive out into the middle of nowhere to bring David his cherry-limeade. And one for Jerry. And a water, no ice for Grandpa Mike...

The Horse Trough

Every summer, since Rhian was very small, I have purchased several hard plastic or blow-up swimming pools. And every year, something--some animal--destroys them. Goats, horses, cows, dogs, and racoons all seem to find a blow-up swimming pool irresistable. So this summer, after our dog Sam shredded my second purchase of the season, David decided that enough was enough.

And so, he brought home a very, very large horse/cattle watering tank to serve as the girls' swimming pool for the summer. (Great idea--only that it weighs a ton, and is impossible to clean--but that's not his problem, right?) Not that we are not redneck enough, but now we have a horse trough taking up half of our brand new patio, directly in front of the house...

But the girls have had a fantastic time in it, and it is dog-proof. So really, I should not complain. The girls have played "Ring Around the Rosie" until I was sure that poor Jacklyn's arms would be pulled off--or until one of them drowned. (Yes, mom, I was always, always, within arms reach anytime they were in or near the pool! They would not have drowned, that was an exaggeration...I was a lifeguard, remember?)

And note the following pictures. This is my Elizabeth. This is my "Liz." And this is typical Liz. Full-out, non-stop energy, with the capacity to wear anyone out...even a steel swimming pool...

Rhian adores the younger girls and is a great help to me. However, tickles her sisters way too much. Not a day goes by that she does not hear me say, "That's quite enough, Rhian. Not everyone enjoys being tickled that much." And Elizabeth--well, let's just say that she does not tickle Liz much anymore...so she just picks on Jacklyn instead.

Jacklyn loves water. Anytime the words "pool" or "bathtub" are mentioned, you had better be serious. And, you had better let her play until she is done...or else...
But you know, I complain about my kids way too much. I absolutely adore them. Who could not adore girls this cute? I may be biased, but I am pretty sure I have some of the most beautiful girls on earth.

And every once in a great while, when they are all getting along, and having a great time, I remember why I had kids. They have to be the greatest blessing God can give.

(Note: Know that I know that the girls' swimsuits are about two sizes too small, but their properly sized swimsuits were still in a pile on the washroom floor from the day before. So I apologize for any improperly covered body parts. But hey--they are little girls--they run around underwear most of the time! So at least they have swimsuits on!)

The Good, the Bad, and the Really Wet...

My girls love to play outside. Rain or shine, snow or even sleet, they play outside. Sending them outside is good for at least an hour. An hour of quiet for me to catch up on chores, talk on the phone, grade papers, etc.

My girls play like boys do. They wear out their friends, family members, shoes, and the knees of their pants. They get dirty, wet, muddy, and my personal favorite, hairy. They bring me flowers, pretty rocks, long blades of grass, and my personal favorite, bugs--lots and lots of bugs.

But sometimes the quiet becomes scary. When my girls are quiet, it generally means that they are up to no good. Like drawing on the siding with chalk, or tying the dog to the wagon, or sweeping the barn and completely covering themselves in filth, or rearranging Daddy's tackroom, or climbing up the ladder on the bulk tank, etc, etc, etc.

On this particular day, they were playing quietly and peacefully together, so I went inside to put some dishes in the dishwasher. (Note--I can see them--most of the time--through the kitchen window--and I leave the door open so I can hear screaming...) But then, the quiet became too quiet. And as I turned off the water in the kitchen sink, I realized that the outdoor water faucet was running. And much to my dismay, this is what I saw...

Rhian, the instigator. She always has the idea--and then lets the younger girls take the blame... She didn't get wet...

So what do I do, rather than get on to them for playing in the water fully clothed--I laugh and run to get my camera...



Such laughter, such joy--who could be mad at that?

After watching the big girls drinking from the hose, Baby Jack decided that she could too. Of course, since she is big too, ya know...

Trying, trying, trying, getting wetter, and wetter, in the eyes, in the nose...

Ah! Got it!

Getting some help from Sister Liz...

Its when they started licking water from the sidewalk that I made them stop...

Ah, summer afternoons with nothing to do but get wet in the waterhose (and drip water throughout the house and leave muddy footprints...)

My Hero.

My husband is a man's man. A cowboy's cowboy, if you will. He is handsome, he is rugged. He smells of cow and horse dung...He has the ability to melt me with that boyish smile and sparkly blue eyes.

And he is my daughters' hero. They are the definition of daddy's girls. And of course, the fact that he is their direct access to all things horses is a definate one up on mom...

Here are some photos that I snapped the other night as I chased the girls out the back door after they screamed, "Daddy's Home!" and raced outside to be the first one tossed up on his horse.

David riding our stud horse, Lowry's Last Star ("Leroy"), through the pasture, trying to ignore the fact that I have a camera--he hates cameras. I think he subscribes to the Native American theory that it will steal his soul...And if he is caught by a camera, you will never, ever see him smile...

Riding with trusty cow dog Sam by his side. Sam is just a puppy, but is showing promising signs of being a great sidekick for David. As long as he eventually stops chewing up everything in my yard, I like him just fine...

Oh--the cow he is trying to gather just took off running....Mainly because the girls were standing very near the gate he is trying to push the cow through screaming "I want to ride, I want to ride! No me! No me!"

Notice that David and Leroy have faster reflexes than I do...

Back under control, and headed to the barn...

Ah--my hero. He looks so good on a horse...So calm and collected, so natural--the total opposite of what I look like on a horse. I mean really, look at that--his horse is running full out, and there David is cool as a cucumber, he gets more excited watching bull riding on TV.

This is where the pictures get really cute, and make my heart go pitter-patter. This is why I married a cowboy...to raise a whole herd of adorable cowgirls...

After putting the cow in the barn, he takes Jacklyn on a tour of the pasture.

So, so cute--both of them...I LOVE her little bare feet!

Now with two girls...Yes, Elizabeth is still in her school uniform, and without shoes. Gotta get outside fast when daddy gets home...gotta be the first to beg for a horseback ride!

Rhian hitched a ride on Neighbor Jerry's horse. (Yes, mom, I know, children are not supposed to be riding horses barefoot--but I know you did it when you were little too!)


This is neighbor Jerry. He is pretty awesome. He gets the same greeting everyday that David does--"Jeeeeerry!!" and out the door they go...

This is why David tries to sneak to the barn when he gets home...he now has little "helpers" for everything he does. Yes, my children are standing in the barn, barefoot. Standing in God knows what...

He is petting Jacklyn on the head as he passes. So sweet. You know--a very long time ago, all that sweetness was directed toward me. But then I was trumped--by tiny little girls...with his same twinkly blue eyes...

All in all...My husband is pretty darn cute.