Quips from Hatchlings

Jack: Mom? Did God build this house?

Me: No hun. Man built this house.

Jack: Well, where are the six houses that God built?

Me: Huh? What do you mean six houses? I don't think God built any houses in the Bible sweetie.

Jack: Yes He did. The Bible says he built six houses and on the seventh day He rested.


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(after overhearing a little Rush Limbaugh during a car ride home)

Grace: Mom? What is global warming?

Me: (A small shpeel on global warming, and both sides of the argument.)

Jack: Woah. I wonder what global colding is like?

What A Bulletin Board Is Good For

About three weeks ago, I was in a homeschooling slump. Its not that I was tired of homeschooling or that the kids were complaining of boredom. Perhaps it was the onset of fall. Maybe it was the Hungarian video I saw for teaching children math (don't ask). Maybe it was that simply couldn't fit one more piece of artwork onto our fridge. Whatever the case, I decided that I needed a bulletin board. A big bulletin board like schools have, where the teachers decorate it and display the children's work. With themes that work around the calendar and fun little doo-dads.

I hadn't bought a thing all year for school that was "fun", so I thought "Why not?". I know that Tom Builder when he saw the box it was in was thinking, "WHY??".


But you know what? This bulletin board has been terrific. It has added a bit of interaction this month that has been lacking. For the last two weeks we've been adding leaves to the board (parents and children), with each leaf describing something we are thankful for. It has been a neat process to see what everyone finds themselves thankful for that day. Everything from "Food", to "The Troops", to "Modern Medicine" to "Schoole" (love the irony on the last one).


This board is gigantic, which makes for a gargantuan box. What do kids love to play with? Boxes. And so, during our Thanksgiving Break, the children have used the box to sleep under as a tent. Because, that is simply the natural order of children and boxes.

Pumpkining With Three Amigos

I have no idea why someone decided to decorate their pumpkin sale with sombreros. I never did take Spanish, so forgive me, but did I miss something in elementary school? Did the tradition of carving pumpkins originate in the remote hills of Chihuahua, Mexico?

That said, it sure did make for some festive photography around piles and piles of overpriced pumpkins, overshadowed by giant Mexican hats. Plus for as long as this kid sat down scrutinizing pumpkin candidates, he was bound to get sunburned without protection.

Maybe...there are only five degrees of separation between a pumpkin patch and a fiesta. I can vouch that there are just two degrees of separation between a pumpkin patch and an empty wallet.

And HOLD...2, 3, 4

I'm up again. But at least it is for a reasonably exciting reason. How about 6 hours of straight, uninterrupted contractions at about 5 minutes apart? Even after a good walk to the mailbox at 10:00pm and four hours of here and there shut eye. That's something! Right? They're mild 1 minute plus contractions, but they have my interest now that they don't seem to be going away. Even though I'm really, really, tired, I thought I'd see if they'd die down if I sat up and moved around for a few minutes. Because right now, they are waking me up every hour. And so the girl, blogs.

Yesterday, I nested in high gear moving and flipping couches, ironing curtains and doing my best to make the playroom feel like home in our house. Because, I KNOW that the playroom is where I will live for the next 6 months of my life. After almost 8 years of trying to squeeze into an uncomfortable wooden kiddie chair or sit on a hard floor, I finally resolved to put some adult seating in the room and bought a cheap red gingham check couch on closeout. I should have done that years ago. Then I bought some ivory curtains, hung Mom's wedding quilt up in the room, blessed the couch with the cream colored blanket Ken proposed to me on, and hung one of our anniversary gifts to each other (my all time favorite picture) of a red barn in a wheat field right before a storm. I dare say the room looks "country".

The room tells a story. From the moment I said "Yes" to my Mr. Incredible, to the day we got married, to happy anniversaries. And surrounded by those four walls, is the chewy sweet center...our children. Don't let anyone ever tell you that the kitchen is the center of your house. The sweet spot in your house is where your children gather...the play room.

Ready Or Not?

For those of you who don't see me waddling around throughout the week, you may have wondered if my one week of silence meant the early arrival of Baby Hope. If that were true, it would have radically changed my position on global warming. True global warming might be the only thing that could successfully kick my cooker into microwave gear.

Most pregnant ladies have lovely convection ovens to bake their little buns. Some ladies, are lucky enough to have state of the art microwaves. I have been blessed with grandma's indestructable stainless steel slow cooker forever stuck on the "Low" setting. {{sigh}} You can't break me. You can't rush me. I don't even know how long the light would stay lit on my slow cooker without Pitocin.

The chickens and I are having a contest. We are both due to lay our egg in the same week. It's me against twelve chickens. Cheep entertainment around here.

I have been tempted this go around to see how long I actually would go. Just to see, you know? But by about this week in the pregnancy with just three weeks left to go, the pelvis begins to shudder. I may have a uterus of steel, but the rest of me is not bionic woman material. Each evening this week has tested my tolerance of pain. Everything hurts. By 5:00 pm, whatever junk is strewn around the floor (and there is a lot of that) gets an automatic pass. All I can do is growl at it or kick it.

I whine that Mama is ready for Hope to come out now. When I see little babies nuzzled close to their mothers, I surprise myself with how much I long for those days again, holding another beautiful blessing. It is a comfort to know that I still have that deep seated desire to gather up my new little baby girl and love on her entirely. Fully. After three children, the excitement is still new and fresh.

But then I feel a sadness sweep over when I look at the little girl babbling in front of me who is still so much a baby herself. She has all of my heart right now, as she stands on the brink of so many milestones. How distracted I will be in a month. How much our "Mommy-Faith" world will change. Are we both really ready? Faith tries so hard to sit in my lap and fit. She'll lay on my belly with her blanket molding herself around her tiny sister completely oblivious to Hope's kicks of protest.

We can do this. I know we can. All of us. All six of us. Which brings me to the masterpiece I stumbled upon last week. Grace had left this picture on the counter. A picture of our family, plus another unidentified woman that I'll assume is supposed to be Grandma or Nana. I love her drawings. Notice how she identified ME. I'm the bodacious one in the middle with all of the curves! So until less than three days pass before I find my way to a shower, this will have to do for an updated belly shot...

The Well Visit

There are some of you out there who know that one of my least favorite things to do in life is take my kids to go see the doctor. So naturally, this Mama doesn't DO most of the "Well Visits" our clinic would love to have set up. After your second child, you begin to arrive at the realization that well visits go against all motherly instincts. Probably because after attending a "Well Visit" at least one child shortly thereafter becomes very unwell due to the germ-athon that takes place in a doctor's office. Again, I stress, this Chick doesn't do well visits.

But, I have recently discovered that there is a point where a clinic begins to refuse to treat your child for a very real illness, because you have neglected to take him or her to two years of well visits. Hmmm....maybe the John Edwards Healthcare plan is already in operation? Go figure. Things get busy in this household, and the last thing I want to do is induce illness on my children just so the clinic can check some wellness visit box off on their chart. However, I did have to face the hard earned truth that my avoidance of wellness visits has put us a tad behind on the vaccinations. So it was time to face the music. A LOT OF MUSIC.

Today was vaccination make up day at our house. It was a day for much prayer and beseeching before setting foot in the doctor's office. Determined to set off on the right foot, I set out an hour ahead of time making sure hair was brushed, teeth were sparkling, and socks matched. What I forgot to do was an underwear check. So imagine my surprise when during Sir Bugga-Lot's inspection the doctor and I both discover together that Jack has decided to go commando for the day!

But really, everyone was in great spirits, and the visit went very well considering the odds against us. Sir Bugga-Lot even had to pee in a cup that his mommy held with two sisters looking on, and he did it to perfection. Now that is tough to do!

After a two hour long visit (another reason why I hate taking three kids into a doctor's office), it was time for the dreaded shots. My poor little man had to take FIVE shots in the legs, while the Queen received 3 whammies in her tiny little arms. Never in my life have I heard the Queen scream at such astronomical decibels. With both children shrieking for mercy, the littlest Princess began to live up to her name and wailed in terror over the other two tortured souls. And I'm quite sure that if I could have done a womb check, Baby Hope was also beside herself in fear. The shrieking, OH my friends THE SHRIEKING... it was impressive.

But really, we had a great visit. The kids are a bit stiff, but otherwise survivors. Next week will I'm sure be a different story when three out of five of us will have our heads in sick buckets because we succumbed to the WELL VISIT.

Souping Up The Chicken Coop

I'm running to catch up on a number of blog posts for this week. This post is all coop baby. Tom Builder is a born natural at many, MANY things, but there is one thing I can always count on...phenomenal construction skills. I realize just how much I think like a girl when it comes to moments like this. And how limited I am spatially.

Tom Builder listened carefully to my list of needed upgrades to convert one of our barn stalls into a predator proof chicken coop, and then headed down to the stall with pen and paper. Thirty minutes later, he was back making final calculations on the amount of lumber needed. It would have taken me a week of obsessing to arrive at that same junction, with many errors close on my tail. And the small ideas I provide Mr. Incredible turn into bigger, much more substantial ideas. More than once this week, you could hear me saying, "I'm getting that? Cool!! I was thinking it would be like this...".

So last weekend, we worked on the coop, and we worked on the coop some more. There was a lot of coopin' going on. For good reason. There is a lot of poopin' going on in the TV box, and my nose can hardly stand it anymore. The girls are over 5 weeks old, and starting to out grow their welcome in the house. In the name of Knucker Hatch spirit, we tried to involve the whole family as much as possible in the building experience.

Jack was all about the guy stuff: measuring, making cuts, handing tools to Dad as needed. If Dad was at the coop, he had to be down there too. Grace was our cheerleader, always giving out a "That looks great!", or "Perfect fit, Dad!". When not handing out complements, she could be found hammering nails into spare wood pieces. Faith, was always quick to alert the family when a stray nail or tool dropped, with her new "Uh, Oh."


Predator proofing was an essential, that has involved rivers of sweat in the sweltering heat, yards and yard of 12 gauge hardware cloth, an additional ceiling, and 1 million staples. The entire stall is being wired in, so that the girls can sleep at night without having to worry about the coons, foxes, dogs, rats and snakes. The only thing we are not wiring is the floor, which has me a little concerned about something deciding to go on a digging spree underneath the floor to get to the chickens. The chicken coop already has a name due to the amount of metal going in, and the caged in feeling it exudes: The Panic Room.

In addition to the ceiling, Tom Builder added an entirely new door to go behind the stall doors so that the girls could enjoy peace and safety with fresh air in the evenings. I have since lined both sides of the door with hardware fabric. We finish up the coop this weekend, and I can hardly wait. I'm excited for the chickens, and I'm happy to have a chicken dust free house again soon. After this, we will begin a new project devoted to chicken raising: The Chicken Tractor.

Horsing Around

The kids had the terrific treat this afternoon of being invited to ride "Face". Face is a patient fifteen year old 12 hand pony who is still boarding with us at the ranch. This was the kids' first true ride, and they were tickled at the opportunity. Even Faith "The Bruiser" had her 10 seconds of pony fame.

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From All of Us

His First Miracle

I'll just say it. Tom Builder performed a bona fide miracle this spring. The pool we inherited was so bad, SO BAD, that we never thought once about actually snapping a picture of it to remember its BADNESS. It was thick, dark green, and swarming with swampy life. It looked like a lost cause. At the very least it looked like we would need to drain the pool and start all over. But apparently, draining a pool is a big no-no, and everywhere we read, and those we talked to stood by their chemicals.


It took four weeks of Mr. Incredible's devoted attention to work his mojo. He poured chemicals, took pool samples, poured more chemicals, became addicted to pool sampling, scrubbed, vacuumed, unclogged pool pumps, added more magic fairy dust, and dreamed about sampling pool water. Every day he could be seen with his little transparent suitcase of colored drops and cylinders. The success of his day hinged upon the PH balance of the pool.

For a week the water did nothing. The PH did nothing. And lots of chemicals had been dumped into the sea soup. Tom Builder was a bit discouraged. However, in the second week the pool went from spinach green to cloudy green-blue. Action! Everyday we looked to see if we could see anything beyond the first step of the stairs. Did anyone see the sea monster yet? By the last week, our visibility went from only being able to see the second stair, to seeing down to the full 10 feet depth with crystal clarity.


The glorious water my four floatie Sir Bugga-lot is now swimming in, is the same H2O that looked like it was one chemical reaction away from a nuclear disaster. WHAT IS IN THOSE CHEMICALS?? Unbelievable. But honestly, I can't say enough about Tom Builder's dedication to making this thing happen. We went from owning no pools, ever in our lives, to owning a pool, a hot tub, and a jet pool. We knew squat. However, as in all things he does, Mr. Incredible took the challenge and tackled it head on.

We have a running joke on the farm between us. Because so much of this life is new, and has new terminology, the joke runs a bit like this: "You see, you simply take the mandible there and insert it into the manifold, which is found on top of the lateral dorsal. Then wait two minutes, and turn around six times before activating the implement on the posterior thorax pump in the ..."

By the way, 10 bucks to anyone who can sink Floatie-boy...


The water is still a bit nippy which is why the kids load up on flotation devices to stay as much above water level as possible. But who can stay away from this American dream? The kid's dishes are put in the sink after meal times, the kid's shoes are all neatly in place, the playroom stays clean. Why? Because pools and hot tubs only happen when all else is finished. I've never seen my children clean up a playroom so quickly. It's down right lovely.

Now keeping an eye on stubborn Faith is another beast all-together. The child only wants to throw everything imaginable to man in the pool, and then pitches a fit as soon as it drifts away. (We're going through a bit of a stubborn streak.) The hot tub is more her style, since Mama let's her bumpkin run in the buff. She gets a kick out of her buff-ness as she squeals around on the deck.

The water...is nice folks. Really nice. And the view, is tremendous.
Thanks hun. You're a miracle worker.

Happy Teath-ster!!

We had a really nice Easther at the Knucker Hatch houth. Grandma and Grandpa Knucker Hatch were in town for Masters week and all of us had the joy of sharing their sweet company over the last few days.

Because his parents own 25+ acres of their own in Colorado, and have a very successful alpaca business, Mr. Incredible and I were two sponges trying to soak up all advice farm and land management related from the two as we walked the land. I'm starting to realize just how much owning land, is a guy thing. Tom Builder has been having more fun than he'd probably like to admit scanning the classifieds for tractors, and commercial grade mowers...and then of course there is the necessary Bobcat. Big boy toys.

Besides being an alpaca breeder, Grandpa Knucker Hatch is also a chemist, which made him a helpful side kick as the two men tried to navigate their way through clarifying the rectangular green bog we inherited with the property. It is perfectly reasonable to believe that the smaller cousin to the Lochness Monster lives at the bottom of that pool. But it is my hope that when we can finally see beyond the first step of the pool, we will find no sea monsters.

It took two days for me to work up the nerve to complete our egg coloring this year. On the first day, the children were chomping at the bit to put the tablets of coloring in each of the cups. So, I gave them each three tablets to place in three cups. Grace took her tablets and dropped them in each cup. But Jack. My little Jack. What would I do without Sir Bugga-lot to keep things interesting? Jack (before you can say "Jack Rabbit") dropped all three colors (yellow, blue, and green) into one cup, which turned into a frenzy of fizzing blackness. I managed to rescue one tablet, but the green and yellow were their own chartreuse color this year. I won't go into how many unboiled eggs were broken between the coloring and the glittering mess on day two. But the important thing is that the kids had fun (in between feelings of failure).


The Easter bunny arrived after church, when the children were not looking and busying themselves around the house. He mysteriously began dropping bits of candy here and there inside of the house. And when the kids didn't notice, a doorbell ditch at the door of funny teeth, a bit of candy, and spaghetti balls (don't ask) in a basket, prompted a whoop-dee-doo to get the ball finally rolling. The bunny, in all her swiftness to get away, left a trail of blood from a thorn that found its way into the soft flesh of her bare feet. But the bunny digresses. And so the hunt was on...



And when it was over, a satisfaction was in the air. You see, there was a bit of worry this year, over a little something Mom had said. The children had let on, that they were pretty sure the Easter bunny was Mom. But Mom had said, in so many words, that when the Easter Bunny no longer is believed in, she quits his delivery service. So, when she didn't show up in the morning, and she didn't leave treasures hiding in the house directly after church, the children began to wonder what they had gotten themselves into. Grace especially began to show traces of concern.

But the bunny delivered. She was spotted for a split second by Grace at the door, who diplomatically mentioned that she had hair about the color of Mommy's. And it was a person who left the baskets. Ehem.

But in this Easter season, we are reminded, that Christ delivered despite our unbelief. That He has given us an eternal gift that sits on The Table of Resurrection. A gift that required the blood of Christ to purchase, but who's only requirement is to simply be accepted and received. Glory!

Farm Slang Gone Wild

During one of our nature walks by the creek this week, Grace's foot ran into a thorn bush. In wincing pain and through tears she exclaimed,

"Oww. Oww! I've been porked!"

Not pricked. Not poked. But porked.

I did everything in my motherly powers to be the consoler and not to fall in the field in a big "BAHHHHH!"

Ehem. We need to work on that one. Very soon.
Before the new slang leaves the farm.

Simply Happy

Happiness is having the most comfortable seat in an empty house and a cushy lap to share it with.

Happiness is doing our school reading outside underneath the cool shade of massive trees.

Happiness is a fuzzy barn cat insisting to sit on top of the book Mom is trying to read from aloud.

Happiness is having a new excuse for a poor narration.

Canine happiness is chasing down barn cats and bumblebees.


Happiness is pure dizziness after your sister swings you in circles ten times...until you walk straight into a solid wall.

Happiness is when you suddenly have access to every puzzle mom has had locked away in the school closet. But now you have endless square footage to piece them together upon.


Happiness is our first home cooked dinner filling up the rooms with the delicious smell of chicken fricassee and couscous.

Happiness is for just one hour, being able to smell something other than the thick aged stench of "cat" in the farm house with my super-bionic pregnancy nose.

Happiness is finding that your jean legs poof with puffs of farm dust when tapped.

Happiness is a warm shower and a wet soapy baby squeegie-ing the shower door to her little heart's content.

Happiness is three kids tucked in bed for the next 11 hours.

Four Parks in Three Days

This past weekend was a very special weekend the children had been looking forward to for weeks. Uncle Jeff and cousin Alyssa were coming down to Georgia to kick off spring break! Thankfully, the weather was fabulous and there was no need for elaborate "What are we going to do today?" plans. The children took turns tag teaming all of the adults for bike rides, walks, and park visits with movie night in the evenings. In all, we hit four parks, probably had 10 walks, and ate boat loads of greasy take out and ice cream.

Our neighborhood park was the second park we hit. I really enjoyed an hour of peaceful sunning (Faith-free), while the kids built roads, giant smiley faces, and buried their toes in the sand.


Jack discovered on this day that he could "barely lift the entire park" from underneath this climbing structure.

On Sunday, we were to meet with Uncle Christian and Aunt Kristy for lunch. We waited and we waited for them to arrive from what was supposed to be a quick errand to the local PetSmart. And we waited some more. When they arrived, they were beaming with the announcement that they were the proud parents of a new baby girl...

After some gooey eats the children and I took the clan with us to see our soon to be new home and farm. Alyssa is a horse fanatic (small understatement), and we knew she would have a good time cavorting with the horses in the pens. It surely must also be mentioned that "horses" was the topic of all games and pretend play. I'm not sure what my kids would do if Alyssa came to town and announced she was over horses and was moving on to elephants.

Yesterday, was our finale with burgers, more ice cream and a last visit in the evening to our Towne Park for more bike rides. Faith and Uncle Jeff hit it off very well on this visit. Everyone knows, it is not easy to win Faith's stringent approval, but Jeff apparently spoke her language. I told myself that I was going to try very hard not to mention that Jeff is totally available. (I could have tried harder, but what's the fun in that?)


The poor guy below, deserved some extra TLC this weekend. He was unable to join us until Sunday afternoon, after being stranded in Philly for three days due to the inclement weather. Six hundred dollars, 10 hours of delays, two days of flight cancellations, and three days of wearing the same clothes later, he finally was able to fenegel his way back home. Without March Madness in full gear, he might have turned himself inside out with boredom.

The Incredible Tom Builder doing his best to burn a generous hour of caloric intake as he supervises the mass transit of bikes and scooters.

Ordering A Large Family

What if you could order a family? Sitting in your car, you pull to the speaker and glance at the Family Menu options - The three and 1 combo, the Whacky Pack, the 8 piece bucket. Say you are really hungry, and you ordered the large family sized bucket. How many people would that be? What if you super sized your order? I'm curious. I am.

I did a search on large families last night, and the sites that popped up were intriguing. Different large family forums, one of which might quantify large as 4 children, another which might quantify large as 5. And for large families themselves, many might consider their family large if they have been blessed with 6+, but by American's standards, large might be as low as 3 children. When do you officially become supersized or deemed a megafamily?

To press the issue: When is it that society stops looking at your family as "nice" and starts to view your family as "overgrown"? (Not that society drives my personal vision of family size.)

When Ken and I were at the ultrasound, the tech asked if we had any children. We rattled off their three ages, and she quickly made the comment that "You don't see many couples these days who have larger families. I think it is wonderful." So by having four children we are unquestionably "larger", but I don't think we've achieved "bucket" status. On the flip side, no one would argue with the fact that we are at the very least, a Whacky Pack!

Christmas Day 2006 - The Letter

I better finish up retelling our 2006 Christmas before the next one rolls around!

Christmas Day, was different. Very different. In fact, Ken and I weren't sure what to expect from the kids when they took a peek in the early morning hours under the tree. Both of Ken's sisters and families would not be arriving until the afternoon. Upon their arrival, Santa (Grandpa in full attire) would show up at the door a bit turned around after just returning from Germany. The problem was, in order to make it work, our children would wake up on Christmas morning with nothing under the tree. NOTHING.

Our hearts were torn as we both thought about how the children might feel in the morning, after days and days of counting down...

To soften the blow, after the kids had turned in for the night, Ken composed a letter written by Santa, informing the children that he would be returning that day to visit them in person. The letter was laid by the munched on cookies and carrots in hopes of being found.

In the morning, the children visited our room first, and after giving them the OK to have them peek under the tree, we huddled in our bed waiting for the children's reactions. We could here Jack and Grace whispering excitedly to themselves, and then there was silence. After a moment, they checked the plate to confirm if Santa ever arrived, and then to our relief there was great excitement as the children sped up the stairs announcing there was a note!

All in all, the children took it very well. And they were extremely patient as the day passed along. Here is Grace showing Grandpa "The Letter".


Grandma had the perfect idea of passing the time by baking a cake for baby Jesus. This we all throughly enjoyed over the next few days. And it smelled wonderful on Christmas day!

I have to say, it certainly was nice to be showered and dressed for once before all of the candid Christmas picture taking.

Snow, Snow, Snow

Our family couldn't have asked for a more wonderfully white Christmas in 2006. We spent 10 days in the foothills of the Colorado Rocky Mountains underneath a blanket of fresh snow. A Christmas dream. Hours before our vacation was to begin, Colorado was pummeled with more snow than they could plow, closing the Denver airport. We were extremely fortunate in that our flight was the first plane into Denver once the airport opened its runaways again. Our prayers for a snowy Christmas were answered...and then some.

As we waited for our baggage to arrive in the airport, the children stood nose to the glass outside, desperate to get their Georgian hands in the cold snow. They had ample opportunities throughout our visit, that included nature walks on the farm, a scavenger hunt across 25 acres of snowy fields (more on that later), digging a snow tunnel, chasing down descending rockets in the fields, and a snowy bonfire.

So imagine my surprise when after downloading all of our Christmas videos and pictures, not a single picture shows any of us doing anything in the snow in the daylight. OIY.

On one of our last nights at the farm, all of the extended family had left (except us staying beyond our welcome). Despite the post holiday exhaustion, we decided to build a bonfire and roast smores. Ken whipped up a blazing fire, capable of scorching nose hairs and anything else found within a 3 foot radius. The night was perfectly still and the sky was clear, except for the sounds of six silly voices singing belated Christmas jingles and playing rounds of the game "Operator". So here's us, in the snow...in the dark.

They're Sinking The Blog Ship

I surrender. (waving white flag)

Blogging is completely impossible in the months of September, October, November and December. Between birthdays and holidays, I'm a mess. I AM here. I'm just working on things here. Until I can catch up and justify...well...here. With only half a table tiled, holiday newsletters, Christmas presents, and more travel in our future, I might as well say it now:

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Falling In With Dad

Today, Ken took advantage of a beautiful breezy day, and invited the children on a hike around the lake, while Mom and Faith continued on the road to recovery at home. Ken brought back a wonderful set of pictures and videos of their hike, which was like opening up a package of fresh air. The children came home with handfuls of acorns, favorite fall leaves, and mushrooms, along with that special something that kids get after spending special time with Dad.

The Three Amigos

Those two on the right are my relief team. I don't have time to tell you how thankful I am to have older children around with a now six month old, but what a difference having older siblings in the house can make on parenting little ones!!! No one can captivate Faith like her older brother and sister. Ken and I are great stand ins, but those crazy kids surely hung the moon.