Hiester Family Antics: Speaking of High Fives

The Hiester Family in a nutshell - a big one, like a coconut or something

We are a family of a whole bunch of random people, thrown together in one small house, who all happen to look alike. Each member of our family was hand-picked by God... that's the only explanation for the saga that is our family. Here's the story from the beginning... My husband, Todd, was married before me. His wife's name was Carrie, and together they had 3 kids: Tyler, Kurstin & Elissa. Todd's parents were divorced and his mother remarried. Her new husband, Don, had 2 small children: Ally & Wesley. Their natural mother was killed in a car accident when they were 8 & 11. One year later, they lost their dad and Todd and Carrie took them into their home. 6 months after Ally & Wesley were added to the household, Carrie died of cancer at age 26. Her own children were 3, 6 & 9 and Ally & Wesley were 10 & 13. And Todd was alone with them. Think Lord of the Flies. So when I fell in love with Todd, I got these 5 kids as a bonus. We married about a year and a half into our relationship, with the kids as our wedding party. We made it all official with an adoption lawyer and lots of money, ensuring that we are LEGALLY their parents. They even had to take oaths saying they would perform the duties of sons and daughters, which I think means I have someone to change my diapers when the time comes! After 2 years of marriage we added Robben Carey to the mix. And now we've welcomed Livi Claire...the seventh, and final, Hiester kid (unless, of course, God has other plans). Todd and I are 37 and 35, respectively, and our kids range in age from 1 to 21. It's great because we're cool and always the youngest in a crowd of high school parents.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Speaking of High Fives

One of our kitties, Cloe, is sweet and loveable, but can be very cantankerous and moody. She is the quintesential female. She embodies my own spirit in a cuter, slimmer form. She is known to slap people on occasion, which is perfectly acceptable if you are of the superior sort. And quite the strong paw does this feline have. Quick as lightning, too. The other morning, Robben was standing in front of her with his hand held high saying, "five, five". Cloe would then slap his hand with sharp, rapid-fire blows. He'd look at his hand, squint his eyes, scrunch up his mouth, and say, "ooooohhhhh," then request another high five. I don't recall who tired of the game first. (Probably the cat.)