It was a gorgeous day, so after a morning listening to (and loudly singing along to while marching around the house with brooms as walking sticks) the song that goes “There is power, power, wonderworking power, in the precious blood of the Lamb,” we hit the feed store (we really did, but I admit I also just like to say that), the small engine repair shop and then went on a hike.

Hikes are little adventures for our MSC* (*Many Small Children). Because we had needed them for apple collecting, we had a bunch of 5 gallon buckets in the car. Everyone got their own (okay, except Flurry…and Stellan’s was smaller), and we hunted and collected and told stories and picked things they thought our caterpillars back at The Farm might like.

“This field is beautiful, Mama!” exclaimed Small Fry. And then, later, “This forest is beautiful, Mama!” She sees beauty in nature. And also in nail polish and lip gloss.

Stellan practiced his chicken sounds while we were walking. He’s good at them. Frighteningly good.

He also practiced this.

Whatever this is. I have no idea. On second thought, I think I do. It’s just Stellan being Stellan. He’s a goofball of the greatest kind.

Nuggey wanted his picture taken with Flurry. I obliged. Grudgingly. I really hate taking photographs. As I’m sure you can tell.

Flurry is finally feeling better after being under the weather. Speaking of being under things, Small Fry dragged her little Irish twin under the canopy of green and yellow along the path, searching for “pink leaves.” That’s what she was searching for, I should clarify. Stellan was just along for the ride. He typically caters to Small Fry’s whims.

The kids ran off some of their energy, MckDaddy and I took turns toting our (big) littlest tot and we enjoyed the sunshine.

Reiterating the berry talk is always prudent. Small Fry can recite it by heart now.

I had to take the opportunity to snap a picture of my two youngest boys. I could eat them up. Which would be more palatable if Flurry didn’t drool so much. He’s cutting molars I think.

All in all, it was a perfect day of family togetherness and elementary level wilderness education. And since it had been eons since I had attempted a photograph of all five of our offspring, we gave it a go.

Pretty good ending to a great day.

When I step into this place, nearly always with my five lovely tagalongs by my side, it can only mean one of two things:

a) The next hour is going to be atrocious.

b) The next hour is going to be an adventure.

Ahh, yes. Target. Or WalMart. Or the grocery store. With Many Small Children in tow. It can be done and done well. Usually. But even when it isn’t done well, it can still be survived. I am living proof.

I really dislike shopping, but what is a family of seven going to do? We need toilet paper and potatoes, peanut butter and light bulbs and, so far, no one has offered to drop them off for free on our doorstep. So it’s off to the store we go.

Plenty of people in my position (read: mothers) prefer to grocery shop when their children are not with them. Be it during preschool time or after bedtime with a spouse at home, some mothers shop better alone.

Well, I probably would, too, but here’s the thing: I would rather use the time when our children are sleeping or when my husband offers to chill with them all at home so I can do something to maybe grab coffee with a friend, edit photographs, write, eat chocolate chip cookies alone or sleep. Just being honest here.

So during the day when we need some stuff, it’s a no-brainer: I go get it. And our MSC come with me.

As I mentioned above, there are two ways I chose to look at our necessary but sometimes painful shopping excursions: Either as atrocious experiences or as adventures.

Don’t get me wrong, with five small children along for the ride, trips to Target are rarely smooth sailing, but it’s been my experience that when I treat them like adventures, things go ever so much better for all of us.

Er, usually. There are exceptions to every rule, but this post is not about those.

As with any adventure I take our children on, I try to always make sure we are hitting the red bullseye nowhere in the same vicinity as naptime. Naps are had, snacks are eaten, and then we head out in the afternoon, usually. Before we start walking around Target, we get situated with our travel arrangements. Usually Flurry is either in his carseat in the cart (while I have been known to pull another with our goods in it) or in the sling on my chest, and the other children taking turns walking, skipping and sitting in the available seats in the cart.

As we meander into the first aisle, I try not to make grunting sounds as I push the cart, because those just aren’t pretty. Then I will usually remind my kiddos of our one finger rule. They are welcome to touch anything in the store they want, and put their curious minds at ease, provided they just do it with one finger.

Small Fry insisted on demonstrating for the camera.

This was the first time I’ve ever photographed in a retail establishment with my real camera. It felt kind of odd. Okay, really odd. But I did it for the sake of my blog. I’m selfless like that.

Ahahahaaaha. Ahem. Sorry. Where was I?

Oh, that’s right. At Target.

With my children. Oh dear, where did Stellan disappear to!? Uh, yeah. That actually has been known to happen. Whoops. He’s usually just right over there. Don’t worry.

Because making our trips to the store an adventure works out better in the long run, I always make sure that we have enough time to shop. There is nothing worse than needing to be in and out of Target in a certain time frame. Because, if you should need to be, that will absolutely be the day that someone ends up with the runs, you forget your wallet at home, the baby needs to nurse even though you fed him right before you left the house, you run into someone you know, you run into a display of canned goods, or your two year old makes a mess all over his face the way only two year olds can make.

Adventures mean that we don’t just run up and down the aisles, Supermarket Sweep style, throwing things in as we fly by. Instead, we stop and smell the roses. Talk about mini bottles of conditioner that we see, pause to pet the dog toys that look like small, furry chipmunks. We play I Spy and hunt for letters and numbers as we walk and sometimes I even sing to my children.

I have also found that making my expectations clear before we start shopping helps. If we are not going to buy anything (a sweet treat or a toy or gum or whatever) fun that day, I make sure to let the kids know that. We practice what kind of voices to use in the store. I remind them about holding on to the side of the cart when I ask, and bribe them with all kinds of chocolate goodies if they do well. Okay, maybe not that last one. Usually.

While our children usually do really well staying in and near our shopping cart, sometimes giving them jobs keeps their energy being used in a positive way. Instead of in a wild run up and down the aisle touching every single bag of chips way. Not that my children have ever done that.

Letting each child help in an age appropriate way does take longer, but it’s what adventures are made of. I mean, it’s no bumper bowling with Daddy, but it’s something.

Even successfully getting a bag off the roll is a worthy accomplishment in their books. And in mine.

On our recent trip to Target, I forgot some produce and we had to loop back. My lovelies were beginning to get a little squirrelly, so I put them to work. Happily, Big Mac chose some apples.

And Nuggey took care of choosing and bagging the bananas.

No doubt your children love to help you shop as much as mine. Finally, ours are actually at an age when their help is indeed that.

But even when it’s not, and their little fingers slip, sending grapes bounding across the tiled floor, that’s okay. It’s just what childhood, and trips to the store with little ones, are made of. It’s all part of the adventure.

And as long as I can manage to keep our MSC from unnecessarily smooshing the bread or the kiwi, they are great helpers in the checkout line, too. By this point, the younger ones are starting to either fray around the edges or have already come completely undone, so help from the bigs is much appreciated while I wrestle with encourage good behavior from some of the littles.

Many hands make light work, it’s true.

And, speaking of true, here’s a true story: Not to long ago when I was checking out at Target or some other place where we buy groceries, the checkout gal scanned all of our many, many food items and other sundry children’s purchases and looked up at me, asking, “Havin’ a party?” To which I responded…

…”Every day.”

Indeed, every day is a party with Many Small Children. Every naptime a blessing. Every spilled glass of milk a chance to practice patience. And every trip to Target an adventure.

Remember this? I am finally getting around to telling you about our corny day!! This post contains a giveaway, too, so don’t flake out and forget to pay attention.

If you know our family, you know that we like our adventures.

One of our more recent ones? Hitting up America’s largest corn maze. Yes. You heard me correctly.

So, we packed up our MSC and took them! The funny thing is, there were so blasted many corny things to do there, we didn’t even wander in the maze itself for very long!

The corn pool, replete with a sign reading “Warning! No lifeguard on duty!” was far and away our children’s favorite thing to play in that day.

I have to admit, having never seen a corn pool, corn pit or corn tub for that matter, I was rather impressed with the concept of gobzilliions of gallons of clean, dry corn kernels ready and waiting to be frolicked in. And to have your shoe and cell phone (temporarily!) lost in.

There was sweet, buttery corn to nibble on, too. And fried cheese curds. While we ate, a lovely blog reader introduced herself. I tried not to smile too big because I think I had some corn remnant stuck ‘tween my front teeth.

And, of course, what’s a corn maze without an exotic petting zoo!? Yes, there were lemurs and even kangaroos. Nuggey, as you know, is a camel whisperer. See?

But back to the corn pit. Daddy tossing the big boys in was fun for both participants and onlookers alike.

Stellan wore fall harvest colors for the occasion. He’s so coordinated like that.

And forget Sleep Number beds, this had Flurry asking to just sleep on straw at night. I said no, though. I mean, who wants to vacuum that up?

Oh man, do you know how much energy it takes to climb through all that corn? Yeah, me neither. But it sure looked like a lot.

Then there was the giant slide, where you could sit on burlap and whoosh to what you feel is going to be your certain death.

And, since even that wasn’t enough adrenaline for our boys, we had to stop by the corn cannon. Yes. Corn cannon.

Kaboom! And the pumpkin slingshot.

Nuggey and Daddy did really great! See how I captured the mini pumpkin in mid flight? That’s mad talent, people. Okay, fine. It was luck.

Small Fry and Stellan didn’t have a baby to hold for our MSC photo, so they held a ball. It’s much less breakable. And cries less, too.

Big Mac the Viking.

Why, yes. That is a Band-Aid on his shoe and corn in her mouth. Why do you ask?

Stellan is fearless, as was evidenced by his self propelled launches into the corn pool.

And MckDaddy? He’s just a sexy babywearing daddy, what can I say?

After our long day there, I could have napped on the corn. But I didn’t. Because I have five children and needed to watch them.

There was a pumpkin patch…

…and straw bale maze.

Seriously, I love adventures with my family!

What’s that? You do, too? Well, you’re in luck. Especially if you live within driving distance of this particular corn maze.

It’s Sever’s Corn Maze in the Frozen Tundra. And I’m going to send four of you there. You’re welcome.

Anyone may comment on this post, but if you live in or near the Twin Cites and would like to visit this corn maze (Tickets are $11 each for ages 4 and up and they’re open every weekend and also during MEA!), just make sure you use the word CORN in all caps somewhere in your comment. Yes, I’m corny like that. I’ll enter you in a drawing for four tickets to Sever’s Corn Maze!

So you and your family can get your corn on.

Just.

Like.

Us.

And while we all had a blast, Stellan’s experience might have taken the corncake. While we were playing in the corn pool, suddenly I couldn’t see where he was! A quick glance to our right showed that he was happily playing with some teenage girls.

“Oh, sorry you guys! I didn’t know he was over there! Stellan, come back nearer to our family, please.”

“It’s okay! We like playing with him! If it’s fine with you, he can stay.” And stay he did. Thirty minutes later, he had six girlfriends. And he’s not even two.

We’re home now and have sufficiently shaken all of the corn out of our undergarments. But the fun is just beginning for one of your families! Don’t forget to use the word CORN in all caps in your comment if you want to be entered to win four tickets to Sever’s. I’ll announce the winner on Monday!

we’re gonna

take a

walk

outside today

gonna see

what

we can

find today

gonna

take a walk outside today

gonna

see what

we can find today

now our journey’s over

and we’re heading back home

with a very good friend

you’re never alone

stories to tell

stories to hear

there will be a lot more

in the coming

year*

*Did you recognize the lyrics? They are from one of our favorites movies!

Except for the fact that it reminds me winter is just around the corner, I love fall. Long sleeves, crunchy leaves and apple orchards. Slipping their matching apple shirts over their heads, because that’s just the kind of mother that I am, I loaded up our MSC and hit the road the other day, landing at an apple orchard.

An apple orchard that is home to many farm animals, a huge sunflower patch, ginormous potbellied pigs who had just (hours earlier) given birth, tetherball courts and pastures of goats. Needless to say, this place is right up our alley. We went there last year. If you remember from this post, it was much colder and rainy that day! (Hysterical! I just went to find said post so I could link to it and, upon reading it, realized that I wrote “because that’s just the kind of mother I am” in last year’s post, too! Haha, I’m so predictable, dontchathink? Wait. Don’t answer that.)

Predictable also is that I take an obligatory apple orchard photograph of our children every year. Big Mac will get to go the fewest times though, poor guy. I didn’t take him alone as a baby! But here he is as a sweet 2 year old with toddling MckNugget, next year all three of our children went to the orchard and you can see photos of that experience here, and last year was when I went with four kids in tow.

It was super mosquito-y by the apples, and that was fine. They didn’t intrigue the kids nearly as much as all the animals! We managed to be there at calf feeding time. They only get a bottle every twelve hours. Each of our MSC (excluding Flurry, naturally) got to feed a bottle to a baby cow! Man, they sucked so hard! It was difficult for the kids to hang on for the 14 seconds it took each baby to down their bottle.

There were holes in the fence for the smaller children to stick the bottle nipples through.

Nuggey was seriously holding on with all his four year old might here!

There was only one other family at the entire orchard! That made enjoying our experience even easier. And, crazy enough, the lady who was there with her children was a woman who had been meaning to email me about Milk for Matthew! She and I met at the orchard (“I could tell it was you because of your oldest son!”) and hooked up a few days later to transfer milk. Small world, seeing as she and I are both from about 45 minutes away from here.

Stellan’s favorites were the goats.

Aww, and I thought our kids were!!

They’re a close second, then, for sure.

Not that I’m biased or anything.

Here they are looking at the pigs. The giant, snorting potbellied pigs who had just given birth and were nursing a bevy of adorable, squealing piglets. Pretty sure I experienced a let down of my own just watching it. Sorry, was that TMI? My blog, remember.

I put Flurry in Stellan’s arms.

But Small Fry wrangled this fluffy little goat all by her lonesome!

And yes, there’s her name! On the off chance that you’ve long wondered.

We (they) got to feed straw to the animals, too!

Yes, I love fall. Apple orchards that double as farms, cheap rubber boots, matching long sleeved t-shirts, watching animals nurse their newborn babies…and adventures with my children.

Summers are great for festivals.

We went down to The Big City, walked across the Mississippi River, and went to one on the Fourth of July.

Been reading my blog for long? Then you might recognize this as the same fest I blogged about us going to last Independence Day.

Stellan skipped his nap. Small Fry wore the exact same patriotic dress as last year. Incidentally, I think my husband wore the same thing he did in 2009, too.

And Big Mac is a huge fan of posing for photographs these days. But anyway.

We ate a lot of Jelly Bellies.

And drank lots of Sprite. It was the kids’ first time drinking the stuff that they were giving away for free at every turn.

There was a basketball event going on at the festival, and we got to meet Chocolate Thunder, an NBA legend.

He even held a basketball clinic and, although our boys were by far the youngest children to attend, they had a blast. And Chocolate Thunder took them both under his very big wing.

The boys did a great job and had lots of fun. Small Fry and Stellan wrestled in the grass the entire time the big boys were in their clinic. During the middle of the short clinic, there was a question and answer session. The children were encouraged to ask Chocolate Thunder anything they wanted. The only stipulation was that they not ask “how much I make,” the former NBA star said. “Because only my wife truly knows that!”

The questions from the children, who had been doing pushups, jumping jacks and situps with the legend, ranged from “What was your best game ever?” “How did it feel when you broke the backboard?” (He was the first player ever to do that.) and “How tall are you?”

Big Mac kept his hand patiently raised until it was at last his turn. Yes, the 5 year old last questioner asked, “How fat are you?” The gal with the microphone recovered quickly. “How fast is he?” “No,” our son said more loudly. “How fat are you?” Chocolate Thunder laughed a jolly laugh and told the children about his 320+ pound frame.

Apparently, we need to work with Big Mac on the correct way to ask someone how much they weigh. And then remind him that it really isn’t even polite to ask that to someone anyway. But, oh well. He did say to ask him anything!

After the basketball experience, we tried to beat the heat. By eating. It didn’t really work, but we got some yummy victuals anyway!

The big boys climbed.

And then we went into a gorgeous tent where they all got henna designs of their choosing (Still on their cheeks today as I write this!) on their faces.

Nuggey got a lizard and Small Fry got a frog.

I thought about asking the sweet ladies if I could recline on their cot and take a nap for the rest of the afternoon, but I refrained.

Stellan kept remarkably still while he got a little fly painted onto his cheek.

And I pulled Big Mac’s blond locks back so he could get a cross on his.

As evening came, it was time to get ready to head bang.

We procured absolutely amazing front “row” seats to the main stage concert that would be beginning later that evening.

We hung out there, my husband and I taking turns keeping our spot while the other took our MSC for an ice cream cone break or a bathroom run, until the first band started.

We were pumped to be so close, because the second band on tap was NeedToBreathe, our favorite musicians.

So we kept hanging out.

Drank some more Sprite.

And finally, the Gin Blossoms came on to perform.

It was awesome to hear them, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that sitting so close was awful on our children’s ears.

So we chugged a little more Sprite and walked a distance away from the sweet spots we’d been saving that afternoon. Who on earth knows why we didn’t think of that sooner, but we’re hardly outdoor concert people normally. Or concert people at all. We’re more diaper and crib and Desitin and size 5 Croc people these days.

From a safe distance, the Gin Blossoms were much more enjoyable.

At least for our children.

And for the next couple hours, we listened to great music.

And ran about in the grass, having a ball.

Well, I didn’t run about. But I guess you already guessed that.

Small Fry loves her daddy to bits.

Oh, to be young and self confident and not to care what others think that you’re a boy with a ponytail in his hair. I love this kid and his amazing spirit.

Daddy wrangled the littler ones.

And we pounded more Sprite.

And then our MSC played, rocking out and tossing balls to the tunes of NeedToBreathe.

And then rocked out and played some more.

And played more.

And played.

And played.

And played some more, until my husband and I were exhausted just watching them.

But they kept playing.

And playing.

And playing, until the concert was over. And then we ran home.

Well, we ran to the car at least. Well, some of us ran. Others of us lagged way behind, panting and sweating. But I’ll never tell who that was.

And that was our Fourth of July!