Meet Murray

Murray came to be a part of our family this summer, at the time just about a year old or a little more and found by the local humane society as a stray dog. He's fun. Young and full of life, gentle with Brooks, he tolerates Elliot laying on top of him, and chases Peyton and Christian at top speed. He's a pup still, in ways that tend to drive Kenny a little insane (the yard's not looking so good, a few valuables have been chewed to destruction......) But all in all we have gotten pretty attached to the blonde fluff ball with one bent ear. Murray was the name of a really cool dog in one of Kenny and my favorite sit-coms from years past. Helen Hunt, Paul Rieser......can you remember......Mad About You. He too had a one ear up and one ear down thing going on, so it brought back some memories. Plus letting the boys name the dog would have led to "Darth Vader" and somehow that didn't quite fit.

We've got a ways to go with the whole "training the dog" procedure, but Murray is part of our pack now and I can see lots of good memories heading this way for years to come.

Lucy Girl

Kenny and I were married July, 1993. Lucy Girl became our first "child" that October. We had a old falling down kind of house on East North 12th street in Abilene but it came with a huge fenced in yard, complete with a pretty well built dog house. Well, we couldn't let that dog house go to waste, could we? So, off to the pound we went in search of our first "married" pet.

Kenny thought this beagle mix was a cool looking dog, but I immediately fell in love with a dog named Cinnamon, who later became Lucy to us. She was a golden retriever mix and FULL of life. Boy, how she would run in her early days. She would run in circles, jump on top of her dog house, fetch the morning paper everyday, and take Kenny on bike rides by literally pulling him for blocks before slowing her pace. After 6 weeks of obedience school she went from wild to tame and has since been a cherished part of our family, my parents family and my late grandfather's very best friend.

She traveled from Abilene to Escondido in the back of our Honda Accord and for the last 12 years was living the dream as a California dog. She watched as her original owner grew pregnant and brought four baby boys into the world, and she never hurt a one of them. Just a couple of days ago I watched Brooks kiss her head and lovingly lean his weight into her side as she lay on the patio. In a word she was just the sweetest dog.

Lucy died in her sleep sometime last night. Peyton was the first to discover her and realize something was very wrong. Kenny and the older boys buried her with dignity up at mom and dad's house and left flowers, sweet words and her bowl on her grave. We visited the animal shelter today to remind us where Lucy came from and how thankful we are to have adopted her nearly 13 years ago.

I don't know if mom and dad will get another dog, maybe it's our turn, maybe not. But it's a funny thing to realize how very special a good dog can be. The hole Lucy has left will not be easily filled. Bless you sweet doggie, and thank you for loving all of us your entire life.

WAAAALLLLK!!

Do you remember as a kid, probably at some public city pool, hearing a lifeguard shout this word for what seemed like 4.5 minutes? Over and over little dripping munchkins would be corrected from their desire to run. Something about swimming in a pool on a hot sunny day makes a child so giddy that it's hard to slow those legs down and nearly impossible for a 7 year old to concern themselves with something like safety. "Life is great, I'm wet, I'm cool!" Buoyancy is like a drug running through their veins, and temporarily altering what little good common sense they have amassed in their first years of life. It just doesn't get any better than this.

Such was a typical summer vacation day for my boys yesterday. Christian, Peyton & Elliot all playing in the pool. I love it. They grow so close playing together, working through all the "unfairs" builds their unity, strengthens their brotherly bond. The squeals and shreiks I hear are usually harmless cries of games and adventures. But yesterday I knew the sounds I heard were not to be ignored.

Christian met me at the door, "Peyton's bleeding, alot, his head, I don't want to tell him, I don't want him to freak out". I knew the day was coming, the day we would have our first major pool injury. Guess what, they were running, around the pool, and Peyton's legs were working more than his brain was that day. He sort of jumped down this concrete slide (rather than slow down and sit down) and lost his balance, slipped and slid down the slide very out of control. He slammed his head at the bottom of the slide and knew something was terribly wrong. The blood was scary, but it could have been way worse. The gash was ugly but things weren't unmanagable. Christian prayed immediately, and stuck by Peyton's side through everything. Hours later, after a few hours at the emergency room and 5 staples in his sweet little head life was good again.

A painful lesson to learn, but we are thankful God was watching over Peyton, my sweetie pie. And I pray next time they WAAALLLK!

one liners of the week

"what does it mean to burn a CD?"
--Christian, on the drive home from his first week away at church camp. Naturally he assumed it had something to do with fire, right?

"there's not even a thought of Christian in here."
--Peyton, a few tears in his eyes, lying in bed Tuesday morning and missing his big brother who had just spent the first night at church camp.

"when I turn 8 I'm going to camp!!!!"
--Elliot, (age 4 years, 3 weeks) declaring his clear intent, as he stood in the kitchen, little fingers clutching the island counter top, eyes barely clearing the surface.

"God Did!"
--Brooks, in response to the question, who made Brooks? repeatedly pointing into the air above him and enjoying the tickling amen from Daddy.

some really great dads

Here are some of my most favorite dads.
My husband, Kenny is in a word amazing. He took all four boys on a bike ride today (Brooks in a backpack), Elliot on his training wheel bike and a bungee cord available for those times when Elliot's little legs just can't seem to make the pedals go 'round. I love, truly love watching him father our sons. He delights in their strengths, he is patient and works to better their weaknesses and he appreciates what makes each of them so unique. Brooks, the OOOPS! of the family, has Kenny wrapped around his little finger. Talk about a daddy's boy......after returning from the bike ride today Kenny came upstairs with Brooks still in the backpack and began to manuever him out of the contraption. Having not seen the boys for the last hour and a half I was all "sweet talking" Brooks, "Hello Brooksie, I love you, did you have fun with Daddy, wanna come see mama......" As Kenny handed him to me, relieved to be rid of a sweaty 25 extra pounds on his back, Brooks erupts in protest! reaching longingly for da da, as if I was the evil witch of Escondido. Good grief. But to see a 17 month old recognize that his father is one amazing individual, makes the rejection seem trivial compared to the love a son can have for a dad.

My daddy, Don is one of a kind. He's cool and funny, tender and teasing all in one. And he adores his kids and grandkids. Most grandparents love their grandkids but with Daddy, it's more than that. You see, he loves the "father" role so much that he's partly in denial that his grandkids are just his grandkids. He usually acts as if we (Kenny, myself, Mom & Dad) are all kinda co-parenting together. For instance, I took the boys in to get haircuts last week and Dad (& mom, she's guilty too-it's just not the day to focus on her!) felt the need to call and inform me exactly how he wanted the boys hair to look. Dad never tires of knowing almost every detail of the boys lives, he worries about their safety, their clothing-are they dressed warm enough?, their bedtimes and such....but I know it's all out of an love that goes deeper than my years can understand. It is said that actions speak louder than words. What a truism with my daddy. He gives of his time weekly, if not daily, his actions of love are too many ways to list. I love you Daddy and the way you show your love for me by loving my boys.

Kenny's dad, David, is an incredible person. If I had to describe his example as a father in a word, it would be "wise". It's a wisdom I know if he ever were to read this, he would credit many others for, especially emphasizing his own father. And the fact that he would credit others is once again wise. As a father, he was patient and a good listener. He seems to have worked hard on perfecting an area many of us struggle in, being slow to speak and slow to become angry. His understanding of God's plan for our lives has given him wisdom to parent his kids with their eternity in mind, not just the day to day obstacles that seem to dictate how parents parent today. We still have much to learn from David, but I am thankful for what he has passed down to Kenny through his example and his love.

My brother, Byron, is relatively new to the game of fatherhood (almost 3 years) but I have no doubt he will make one of the best dads ever. There are a lot of things Byron doesn't concern himself too much with but what he cares about, he passionately cares about and works to no end to excel. Church & ministering to those God has put in his life, being a good husband to his wife, Sharla, coaching and his kids at Belton, maintaining friendships with college buddies, smoking a perfectly well done turkey like his dad.....all areas I've witnessed him caring passionately about. But in the last couple of years not much can compare to his devotion to being a good dad. I know he consciously works and tries to better his "daddy skills" and it shows in the way Blake worships him. (I'm sure Anna will too). God bless you in your efforts Byron as you continue to give your very best as a father.

Elliot is 4

Happy Birthday to Elliot today. Oh, I love this kid so much. I was content to keep him age 2 forever, then I accepted age 3 but knew he just had to stay 3 years old forever. Well, once again time continues to fly and he's arrived at 4.

A couple of weeks ago I was kissing him good night and we had been talking about him staying 3 and not turning 4. He had finally agreed to because as he laid there, exhausted from the day he said, "It's just so hard to get to 4." It was like he was just going to give up and stop trying to "get to 4." This morning after we sang to him and the older boys left for school, we climbed back into bed to see if 4 year olds could snuggle better than 3 year olds (they can!) and I asked him, how did he turn 4? He said, "I don't know, I just sleeped and I turned 4."

It has been a great year for Elliot, first year of pre-school, in love with his teacher, Miss Tammy. Weirdly popular with the kids in his class, they all chant his name as he arrives on the playground each morning. He loves snakes and sharks and crocodiles the most. The most cute and cuddly animals known to man. He sleeps with a 10ft. long plush blue & black snake that he wraps all around him and there's still enough length for a pillow. He adores his brothers, I think Brooks most of all. I think he watches the older boys so much and wants with Brooks the kind of friendship Christian and Peyton share. I'm happy he has that to look forward to.

My father nicknamed him "The Buster" because he has a bit of an ornery streak in him. A perfect match for my dad. Several months back as one of the older boys was saying dinner time prayers, Kenny glanced up and saw that Elliot's eyes were open. He looked at Elliot in a "corrective look" and whispered "close your eyes" without missing a beat, Elliot looked right back at Kenny and said, "close your eyes!" To which Kenny tried to do one of those suppressed laughs and ended up spitting and snorting and ending the prayerful moment.

He's got skin like Kenny's (takes a tan instantly) more green than blue eyes, (must get that from my mom) a super skinny build and long neck (again-Kenny) He reminds the Winter family of Kenny's childhood days more than the other boys do.
He rides his little training wheel bike with reckless abandon (surely he gets that from mom?) and is so eager to play sports like the older boys do. He begged me for swimming lessons and is having lots of fun learning to swim.

One discovery he made this year I especially want to remember. We were saying prayers before bed one night and my heart was heavy with something. (I think baby Ira wasn't doing so well at the time) Elliot began to pray and mentioned "thank you for the dinosaurs....." At the end of the prayer, I said, Elliot, sometimes it's good to pray for things that are alive and really need our prayers. The dinosaurs don't really need our prayers because they aren't alive anymore. --can you see where this is going--. Thoroughly confused he sat up in bed and looking at me, asked intently, "the dinosaurs aren't alive?" Realizing, of course that I should have just smiled, kissed my sweet 3 year old and left the room, I regretted sharing the truth of the dinosaurs. But it was too late to back out now. "No", I said. "They are not alive anymore, they lived a very long time ago and now they are all dead." Yep, the 'D' word. Dead. Elliot sat up even straighter, 'they're all DEAD?" Ugh. It wasn't getting better. Eventually the conversation ended and I don't recall any nightmares that night or the next. But for the next few weeks our prayers included, "please help the dinosaurs to be alive and to not be dead." In other words, please help my mommy to be totally out of the loop on this one, dear God. But of course logical mommy noted about a month after hearing this repetitive prayer that if the dinosaurs were alive they would walk around smashing cars and houses because they were so huge. It's really a good thing that they lived a long time ago and not today. Now the current prayer is, "thank you that the dinosaurs are all dead so they can't walk around and smash my house down, please help the dinosaurs to stay dead, God so they don't hurt people and smash their cars....."

Some days I cringe and wonder how I ever got into this whole parenting gig.....

One thing is for certain about Elliot. Ask him any day of the week, "whose boy are you?" And without a second thought he'll reply, "I'm mommy's boy." I'll hang onto that years longer than it will last. Happy Birthday my sugar.

me and the light bulb

You know you're getting old when your nine year old asks, "was Thomas Edison alive when you were a child"?

Baby Caleb

There is a new Winter boy on the block! Tim and Jenny welcomed Caleb Russell into the world yesterday evening, after a grueling 24 hour/forceps/baby face up/cord around the neck kind of labor. All are well, praise God. Little Caleb weighed 6lbs. 11oz. and I am anxious to meet him. It's fun to rejoice with them and remember what that first baby experience was like. It's amazing, becomming a mommy and daddy for the first time in your life. Ahhhhh.

Poor Brooksie, his first year has been radically different that what Caleb will enjoy. Being drug from picking up the brothers at school to baseball practice, to karate, to scouts, to chicken nuggets again for dinner. It's just not fair is is Brooks? Of course it is.....he'll never know the difference and he gets to be adored by so many more faces on a daily basis. Maybe he is the lucky one after all.

Tim and Jenny will make stellar parents, God has gifted them with such a heartfelt, natural love for little ones. Caleb scored big by being born to them. I'll probably be learning parenting tips from them in no time at all. We love you and miss you sweet, new Winter family. Kisses to Caleb from Auntielle.