The story of us: Part Seventeen. An update.

Read part one here.
Read part two here.
Read part three here.
Read part four here.
Read part five here.
Read part six here.
Read part seven here.
Read part eight here.
Read part nine here.
Read part ten here.
Read part eleven here.
Read part twelve here.
Read part thirteen here.
Read part fourteen here.
Read part fifteen here.
Read part sixteen here.

I figured it’s time for a Story of Us update. I left the story last expecting Elliot Adelaide… not the twin boys Sterling was hoping for but he’s pretty happy with his (fifth!) sister nonetheless. Elliot has turned out to be very much the female version of Pierce, hardly the laid back easy going child I’d hoped for, but more than I’d ever dreamed of. She’s got spunk like I’ve not met in a one year old, and while she has yet to hold her breath or bang her head out of anger like Pierce was prone to do at her age, she can throw an impressive tantrum and, just like Pierce, will try desperately not to cry when she’s in trouble. More often than not, she’ll make a funny face at me in an attempt to change the subject. She’s opinionated and strong willed and determined to neither say nor sign Momma… despite having said Dada since 7 months and signing that – and a multitude of other words/phrases – proficiently as well. For now, she refers to me as Papa. It’s… interesting. She toddles around and demands her own way and while a look will often get her out of her funk, she frowns like nobody’s business. If looks could kill, I’d be dead. I’d never before had an argument with a one year old in sign language, but now I have. Many times.

Pierce is three now, and growing out of his anger. It’s been a long road, but the boy is now a delight and joy. He’s affectionate and tries so hard to be obedient. Unless you ask him to do something he doesn’t want to do. Then, all bets are off. He’s finally getting to the point where he can be reasoned with, though. It’s a beautiful thing.

Charlotte is four, learning to read and write and starting Kindergarten any minute now. I haven’t gotten the energy up to begin. She’s the mommy of the year to all the dolls around here, creating elaborate schemes for what they are doing or saying or eating or whatever it is that suits her at the moment. She often totes around twins and triplets and I can’t wait to see if that comes to fruition one day. Twins run in the family and Charlotte would rock that like nobody’s business.

Ruby is six and quite the child these days. We’re struggling, I’ll admit. She’s got a will of her own and could care less what anybody thinks. I’m determined to win, but some days, it’s all I can do to get her to see my point. In fact, I’m not sure she thinks I’ve won a single battle. She’s good like that. But, she’s a love and passionate about her people. She and Ellie love to hang out together and Ruby’s entirely capable of hauling her around and keeping her happy.

Sterling is eight. He’s tender hearted like none of mine are, working hard and capable of most any outdoor job I give him. Ask him to do something inside and all bets are off. He loves to work with wood and dirt and while he mostly ignores the animals, he’ll feed and water them well. Swimming, fishing, building, and reading top his favorite things to do.

Eden is ten. She’s entirely skilled in the kitchen and the one who keeps us in fresh bread and rolls, marinades for the meat to grill, and peanut butter cups are her specialty. The mess… we’re working on. She reads more books than I can count, always remembers authors and story lines, and the names of people and places stick with her. She’s a fabulous resource… living in my own home.

Liberty is twelve. She can run the house almost as well as I can. She’s dedicated and skilled at cooking, cleaning, babies, and reads everything she can get her hands on that refers to horses even in minor detail. She’s praying for riding lessons in exchange for her labors at a nearby stable… or a horse of her own would suit her too.

And, come January, baby #8. Bring on the chaos. Oh wait, we already have it. It can’t get any worse, right?