I will not kick my teammates.

I do apologize for the Jack overload.

He just seems to be the current child who is providing the most interesting things to blog about.

Which in my book = naughtiness.

This dynamic child of mine has a teeny tiny competitive streak.

When he is playing soccer (or any other sport) he kind of resembles a bull in a bull fighting ring.

He's focused, he's intense, and a little bit frightening.

We spend a lot of time "coaching" him on how to properly channel this "personality trait" of his.

Well last week while at soccer practice, Jack's team was playing a 3 on 3 scrimmage.

All was going well until (gasp) the other team happened to aggressively get around Jack and score a goal.

So what did our little sportsman do?

Ya, he decided to kick his teammate in the shin.

Wonderful.
He came home and got a thrilling lecture on being a good sport and why he needs to control his temper.
Aannd then he spent the next 30 minutes doing this:

It was pretty much awesome.

I needed something with a bit more punch than just a lecture and a promise that he would apologize when he saw his teammate again.

What better punishment for a boy who despises writing?

He was not happy about this.

See those tear stains on his paper?

Don't go feeling sorry for him...

He thought he was sure to grow old 

in the amount of time it would take him to write this sentence 25 times.

But he lived.

And on his very own, 

he apologized to his teammate when he saw him a few days later.

Sweet success.

I am just praying that all of these growing experiences (for him AND us) 

will form this fellow into a great man someday 

because he certainly keeps us on our toes!

Baby Bowen #5

If you and I are facebook friends,

then I suppose you've heard the news.

We're expecting a tiny human.

That just happens to be a boy.

Dave and I didn't care whether we were getting a boy or a girl.

It would be a tie breaker either way.

But apparently, by the reactions I got from our other kids,

they all had a gender selected.

I broke the news to each of them separately.

Here's how it went down:

Me:  We're having a boy.

Or, the baby in Mommy's tummy is a boy.  

Or, you are getting a baby brother.

Aubrey:  (She looks at me with one lifted eyebrow) and says,

"Ummm, no.  I don't want a boy baby.  It's a girl baby."

Bradley:  "Yay!  Will he be born with a light saber?"

Jack:  With a jump and mega fist pump - "YES!  We will have a boy army!"

Brooklyn:  "Sigh.  Ok Mom, but the next baby needs to be a girl, OK?"

It seems that my girls are seriously concerned (or in denial) 

about the fact that there will be more males in this home.

And by the responses from my boys, 

it sounds like we should all be concerned.

Yay for babies!

And yay for kids who keep life interesting.

Bring on January 7th!

Teach a Boy to Fish

Every time we take a trip to Idaho,

Jack requests one thing.

To go fishing with Grandpa.

Unfortunately, he doesn't exactly see the whole picture.

What he is really saying is that he wants to sit and break rocks with Bradley

while Grandpa gets a fish on the line.

At which time he will gladly run over and reel it in.

So this time, I told my Dad that I wanted Jack to have the full  start to finish experience.

I should be honest and say that I was secretly rubbing my hands together 

and laughing a little evil laugh.

Jack was going to get much more than he bargained for.

And I liked it.

First up:

Gather the bait.

What's wrong, Jack?

Don't you like pulling nasty, slimy worms out of the ground?

Your sister doesn't seem to mind.

What is it with my girls?

I have a picture of Brooklyn around this age loving on a little worm.

Weirdos.

Next:

hold the pole for awhile, get bored of waiting, and go break rocks with Bradley.

Ahem.

Finally - the big moment!

Reel that baby in!

He was quite pleased with "his" catch.

He kept telling me how amazing it was that he caught a rainbow trout.

Because as he says it, there aren't very many rainbow trout in the world - 

only the very best fishermen can catch them.

Riiight.

Whatever the case, I would happily give 100 bucks

 to know what is going through Bradley's mind in this picture.

He looks seriously concerned.

Right about here is when I start getting a little bit excited.

On the drive back to my parents house

I started talking to Jack about how we can't just kill Heavenly Father's creations.

If we are going to kill them, then we must use them for food.

Which actually made a lot of sense to the boy.

And he was totally up for the experience.

Until he saw exactly what had to be done to prepare the fish for eating.

Would anyone like a close up?

Ahhh...priceless.

I figured that it was best that he has this experience now 

rather than making this face in front of his friends at Scout camp.

I'm really quite thoughtful like that.

He struggled a bit to finish the gutting,

but we were able to get him to cut the head off.

Wow - don't mind the cat in the background.

She was enjoying a delightful lunch of fish guts.

Yum.

We cooked the fish and served it up for the boy.

For some reason, he really wasn't too interested in eating it.

It's not like he'd been traumatized or anything...

We made him try a bite - which he of course said was gross.

But he later confided in me and said that it was actually kind of good.

Maybe we should have let a little more time pass between the gutting and the eating...

Camping Palooza

We have had a lot of fun this summer.

We've been here,

we've been there,

we've been a little bit of everywhere.

We managed to bribe a few friends into hanging out in the mountains with us.

Here are a couple of reasons not to go camping with the Bowen's.

1.  We will absolutely win any "who has the dirtiest kids" competition.

 2.  We tend to have shoe issues.  Nothing major...just forgetting them completely.

For the record - they were on his feet when we left our house, they just didn't make it past our stop at a friends house. 

Sharlene - have you seen an extra pair of shoes lying around?

3.  I will take many "just in case they get married someday" pictures of your children and mine.

Aren't they adorable?

Just this last weekend we went "camping" with several families from our ward.

I say "camping" because does it really count as camping if you have showers, flushing toilets, beds and a full functioning kitchen?

I'm not going to to lie.

I don't care if it counts or not because it was awesome!

Well, it started being awesome AFTER I barfed my guts out on the way up there.

Taco Bell + winding mountain roads = well, nevermind.  Use your imagination.

The lodge slept 32 people and we filled almost all of the beds.

Here's what you get when you ask the big girls to pose for a picture.

Ahhh...they will all be terrorizing their leaders at girls camp in a few years.  :)

And here's what you get when you ask the big boys to pose.

No love for the camera and nasty, dirty boy feet.

Thanks guys.

While we were there we took a couple of short hikes.

The first was at a place called Dome Rock.

It was a fairly simple hike the led to a large rock 

which overlooked a beautiful valley in Sequoia National Park.

This is the part where we discovered that Jack 

has a teeny weeny (ok, huge) fear of heights.

Who knew?

Maybe if you would wear real shoes rather than soccer cleats...

(I told you we have shoe issues)

The poor boy was shedding a few tears 

and had to be coaxed out for a little family picture.

He was not a happy boy.

On the way down, he was holding onto me for dear life and I quote,

"Mom, why did you take us up there?!  

You knew we could have died!

Do you promise not to take us anywhere like that ever again?!  

This is the worst day of  my life!"

Well, I am sure glad that I can provide you with lasting memories, my son.

On our way home on Saturday, we stopped and hiked the Trail of 100 Giants.

I am pretty sure we looked something like a school field trip.

17 kids in our little group.

We made sure not to go anywhere where we would surely die.

Now that we've gotten our fresh, mountain air, 

gotten dirty enough to last another year,

and eaten way too many s'mores,

I think we are ready to hunker down and start school this week.

Father's Day

Do you want to know what Father's Day pictures are supposed to look like?

But do you think I have more than one picture like this?

Of course not.

Obviously I wouldn't even be writing this post if I just had a bunch of mushy 

Father bonding pictures.

Let's talk about how Father's Day really went down.

We walked around the corner to this little field because it was one of those Sunday's.

You know the ones.

What??!!  It's only 3:28?

It feels like 11pm.

I said something like that at least 4 times.

I thought I would take some fun pictures of the kids playing with their Dad.

Well...I got one.

But I also got

Aubrey re-enacting a Baywatch scene.

Why is she in a swimming suit you ask?

I'm not really sure, but she prefers to go commando 

so we thought this was an improvement.

Even if the swimming suit is a size 6-9 months.

Bradley trying to remove the dog poop that had just squished between his toes.

Jack snarling at Brooklyn because he never gets to hold the cat.

I can't imagine why since he had just chased the cat into the bushes...

 about 18 times.

Brooklyn finally recovering from crying for 30 minutes 

because Jack kept chasing her cat into the bushes.

And yes, that is a real cat.

Seriously the nicest, most docile cat I've ever met.

Good thing too.

Or she probably wouldn't have lasted around here.

Something about being mothered to death.

And here's our best attempt at a little group picture.

Plenty of personality.

I'm pretty sure Jack has his eye on the cat again.

Look at that devilish grin...

And then I snatched one of Aubrey

 right after Mona had slobbered all over her face.

She definitely reacts much differently than I would if I had just had that giant tongue all over my face.

I mean look at that thing!

Mona can practically lick her own eyeball!

Bleck!

We enjoyed getting out and getting some fresh air.

And I enjoyed having my little helpers 

helping me prepare dinner and dessert for Dave.

(Even though they are a little scary with the beaters...)

I am sure grateful for Dave.

Thanks to our children we share a very lively and wonderful life.

I picked a good one, folks!

Potty Training

Potty Training.

Something I find to be about as much fun as a poke in the eye.

Actually I'd way rather have a poke in the eye.

Like 50 of them.

I'm just no good at it.

I only have the stamina of about 30 minutes.

I basically just want to show them how to do it and then have them independently take care of it after that. 

That's not too much to ask, is it?

Well I've been in the trenches with the littlest one.

And it definitely hasn't been a 30 minute visit.

She was doing great (easiest one yet!)

but it seems that we are moving backwards lately.

It's been going something like this...

[Aubrey waddling in]

"Mama, I pooped!"  (with genuine enthusiasm)

"Where did you poop, Aubrey?"

(pointing to her adorable little buns)

"Ummmmm...in mine underwear."

Sigh.

"Aubrey........Where does poop go?"

"Ummmmm...in mine underwear?!"

Toilet, Aubrey. Toilet.

T.O.I.L.E.T.

My stamina has certainly waned, but seriously, 

I absolutely refuse to follow the child around all day waiting for the face.  

Why must this be part of the parenting deal?

I'm sure there is some lesson in perseverance or patience that I am supposed to be learning here,

but all I am finding is that I stare longingly at the diapers when I pass them in Target.

Anyone else out there thinking that it was a whole lot easier to change a few diapers everyday??

Meanest Mom

The Meanest Mom Ever.
Isn't that a title that all of us Mother's secretly strive for?
We stay up at night plotting ways to torture our children.
I know I definitely do.
You know what else I do?
I make sure that there is a lunch packed for my kids everyday.
Go me.
Well last week Jack walked off and forgot his head lunch.
I saw it sitting there on the table shortly after he left for school.
Well naturally our school system won't let him starve when he forgets his lunch.
So he came home with a $2 bill for the hot lunch he ate that day.
Right next to it was a big smile on his face telling me all about the pizza and milk and cookie.
Not so fast, Mister.
I told him that since I had already paid for a lunch for him that he would have to earn the money to pay back the cafeteria for his hot lunch.
And do you know what it takes to earn 2 bucks around here?
We really don't pay well.
I marched him to the backyard, threw a few bags of mulch in the wheel barrow
and helped his little twig-let arms push that thing all over the yard.
Then he had to dump the bags and spread the mulch around the perimeter of our backyard.
(Which looks lovely, by the way)

He may or may not have been doing a bit of grumbling.
Which I cheerfully (and maybe a little bit sarcastically) responded with something about how delicious that lunch was.
Which really wasn't nice.
In the end he told me that I was THE Meanest Mom ever
because no other kids have to work for their lunch.
All my planning and hard work has paid off!
Do you think he has forgotten his lunch since?
Nope!
But Brooklyn has.
Her torture had something to do with weeds and dog poop.