They're always good for a smile

Stephen came to me the other day and said, "I wish I could eat baboon." "Baboon?" I ask. "Yeah," he answers, "like a panda."

While eating pina colada yogurt, he asks me "Where are the peanuts?" "What peanuts, sweetie?" "In my peanut colada yogurt."

Yesterday, he asks for a snack. "I'm finnish" he says. Turns out, he is indeed American....he was just really hungry....famished, in fact.

Zachary (on his own) decided last night that he wanted to wash his filthy, smelly, gag-inducing beloved lovey. He put it in the washing machine, poured in the soap and helped me start the water. I closed the lid and he melted into a puddle on the floor. Turns out, he didn't really want to be without his lovey for the time it took to wash and dry it. But now I have the answer to the age old question "Just how nasty does a child's lovey have to be for that child to decide on his own that it's time for it to be washed?"

Two nights ago, I was taking Z out of the car. I told him I loved him and asked him if he loved Mommy. "I love Daddy," he replied. I ask again if he loves Mommy, giving him another chance. "I love Daddy." "Yes, you love Daddy, but do you love Mommy, too?" Sensing that I was fishing for some love, he lays his head on my shoulder, pauses and sighs..."Yes." I'm so glad he didn't make me look desperate!

And Marc-Adam has begun giggling out loud. There's nothing better than that, truly.

Chuck E Cheese and Tiny Thieves

My oldest (or is it eldest?...whatever) Sweet Boy turned 4 on Saturday. Stephen wanted a VeggieTales birthday party at Chuck E Cheese and that's just what he got. I first thought the whole thing was kind of expensive ($11 per child plus tax), but I think if any of the kids want to do that again, we definitely will. With what we paid for for the Chuck E Cheese party, I could have bought food, utensils, paper plates, decorations and goody bags. And THEN I would have had to clean my house to the "party standard" and then put my house back together after 11 children partied. For some reason, it has rained or been bitterly cold and windy on every birthday Stephen has had so we've always had indoor parties and it takes me several days to put everything back in order.

Anyway, we all had a great time at CEC. It was crowded and I don't really like other people's children all that much (more on that next paragraph), but thankfully, Sweet Hubby enjoys this kind of thing with the boys. So he played with them and followed them around with their little cups of tokens and tickets while I got to sit and chat with my family and feed Marc-Adam.

So, I used to feel guilty about not liking other people's children. I thought that there must be something not human about me that I didn't adore all children. But after an afternoon at "the place where all obnoxious and snot-nosed children go to play", I don't feel so bad. A little while after our festivities were underway, I noticed this tiny little girl wander up to one of our tables. I thought she might be lost so I kept an eye on her for a few seconds so I could step in if she got upset. She looked around a few times and just as I was about to approach her, she stepped right up to the table where Stephen's wrapped presents were, took one off the table and ran. RAN! Never looking back! I bolted after her (later realizing that I left poor little Zachary all by himself...what is wrong with my instincts?) yelling things like "HEY!" and "Stop that girl!!" My bewildered family only saw me go by in a flash and had no idea what had happened. I finally caught up to her. Her tiny little legs were no match for my Mama Bear sprint. I snatched gently took the present from her and told her that it wasn't hers and that it wasn't nice to take things that didn't belong to her.

All that excitement was going on while Sweet Hubby was in the bathroom with Stephen. Sweet Hubby said that a six-ish year old came up behind them while they were washing their hands and told them to "hurry up". That snotty kid's dad didn't say a word about it! Seriously, I would tan my child's hide and all fun for that day would end as soon as those words were out of his mouth.

I love my kids' birthdays and we had a great time, but can I just say I'm glad we don't have another birthday in this house for 9 more months!

This has got to be a milestone

So this may sound a little pathetic, but I'm actually pretty proud of myself....please don't burst my bubble.

I was putting Marc-Adam to bed a little bit ago. He was having a hard time settling down; that seems to be the trend this week. I started thinking about how today was actually a really hard day. I got nothing done and I spent most of the day putting out fires, correcting and disciplining (and listening to A LOT of screaming). But I don't feel ragged like I usually do after a day like today. The thought of putting them on the curb with "free to good home" signs around their necks didn't cross my mind. I didn't turn on the TV to attempt to bring some peace in the house by putting the kids in a Doodlebop-induced trance. I didn't even call anyone today to beg them to take my children for a few hours. I seriously think this is the first Friday since Marc-Adam was born that I didn't do that...and I didn't even feel the need to.

And the way this weekend and next week looks, that's probably a good thing, because I don't think I'll have the opportunity to have a little down time until at least next weekend.

This time next week, I may be asking one of my faithful readers if they would like an extra child or two.

Rainy day

It's been nasty out. Icy, cold, rainy...just nasty. Ice is a big deal in Texas. Things start shutting down when it gets below 32 degrees. No one knows what to do with themselves.

Anyway, we lost power for a few hours early this morning. I was weighing whether we should wait it out, hoping that the power (and the heater) would come back on before we became mommy- and Sweet Boy-sicles or pack up the Sweet Boys and brave the icy roads to head to the in-laws who might not have had power themselves. Finally the power came back on (just a few minutes before I was going to give up and the temp had dropped to about 55 degrees in the house). I decided that we were going to have a lazy day and the kids could watch whatever they wanted and I was going to curl up with the book I've been reading over the last few days so I could finish it today. It's been a really good book. Really good. Probably one of the better ones I've read in a while.

So I was on the couch, feeding Marc-Adam, engrossed in the book. I had about 30 pages left of the 400 page book and I was wondering how all the loose ends were going to be tied up with only a few pages left. Then I got to the end of one page and went on to the next. But it didn't make sense. The top sentence on the next page wasn't a complete sentence and had nothing to do with the previous page. I glance at the page numbers....the page I had been on was page 342. The very next page was 374. The book is missing thirty pages! 30 PAGES! At the end of the book. ARG! You can't imagine my frustration.

I bought the book off eBay and if it had all the pages, I would have gotten a good deal. I went back to look at the listing and it never mentioned 30 missing pages. I've already left feedback, not thinking that I needed to check that all 400 pages were there. I e-mailed the seller, but who knows what she'll do. She's already gotten her money and her positive feedback.

Oh and it's such a good book. I was really looking forward to finishing it today. If the roads weren't so nasty, I'd hop in the car and drive the 25 miles to the nearest Target to buy a brand new one.

I'm so sad...

Perhaps we should have his hearing checked

Another strange conversation with Stephen-

Stephen (from behind me): Hey mom, can you punch out my maggots so I can put them on the fridgerator?

Me (whirling around to see what he's talking about): Oh *huge sigh of relief* Yes, I'll punch out your magnets for you.

A quarter of a century

25 years.

That's how old I'm going to be tomorrow. 25.

The number seems so small compared to an average life span. Then why is it I feel so beyond that? Could it be the three small children? Or is it the minivan? Or the laugh lines I've been developing but have tried to ignore? Or the aches I have and the noises I make when getting up off of or down on to the floor?

Birthdays have really never been a big deal for me and I've never liked being an "odd" number (I know, it's weird), but I'm really looking forward to 25.

I finally feel like my chronoligical age is catching up with the "grown up" I've always been!

Here's to a couple more quarters...

Wordless Wednesday

My littlest loves.

Is that kinda like a hot dog?

A conversation had between Stephen and his Grammy in the car on their way to her house (as told to me by Grammy):

S: Look Grammy! Two dogs!

G: Yes, those are beagles.

S: No, they're dogs.

G: Yes, they're beagle dogs.

S: We had those for breakfast!!


Um, no, we didn't have beagles for breakfast. Those were bagels. Bagels.

I promise.

Gettin' it all over with

It's been a hard week. We're still trying to get stuff figured out with the wreck and all. We weren't sure when we were going to even get our van back, but our insurance is stepping up and paying for the repairs while they duke it out with the other lady's insurance to reimburse them. So that's good.

But Marc-Adam woke up screaming the other night an hour after I fed him. I tried to feed him again, but he acted like he couldn't get comfortable, so I took him to bed with me and he still wasn't happy. I tried for 3.5 hours to settle him and he just wouldn't settle down. Not like him at all. I called to talk to the nurse. I couldn't tell her much beyond something just wasn't right. I think she was getting ready to tell me to call back if he had any real symptoms, but I decided to follow my gut and make an appt with the doctor. I got him in that afternoon. Turns out he has a bad ear infection. Doctor said she hasn't seen one in a baby this young in a long time. Poor baby. He's just now starting to act more like himself. It broke my heart to see him feeling like that.

And I'm just overwhelmed with the kids. Zachary's in the terrible 2s, and I don't know what's going on with Stephen. He's getting really hard to handle. I'm trying so hard to be what they need and to make sure they're all getting positive attention, but it just doesn't seem to be enough. I spend so much of the day in prayer and tears these days. I've been in survival mode since Marc-Adam was born and I thought I'd be way past that at this point. And Sweet Hubby's having a hard time at his work...he's feeling overwhelmed, too, so I'm trying to support and encourage him, as well. I'm not feeling like the wife and mom I want to be. I don't want to spend too much time in survival mode because where's the joy in that?

I'm just hoping we're getting all this unpleasant stuff out of the way so that we can have a really awesome year, like I've been hoping for.

Ringin' in the new year with a crash

I had hoped my first post of the New Year would be a reflection on the past year, and my hopes for the coming year. Bits and pieces of what I wanted to blog about have been floating in my head for days. I was looking forward to the start of the new year. I love the feeling a "new year" brings. I always loved the beginning of the school year when I was a kid. A clean slate. New teachers, new people to meet, new school supplies. A whole world of potential. Now as a "grown-up" I feel that way about the new year.

But lemme tell you how it started.

Last night, we spent the evening with my folks. We had a wonderful dinner, played fun games and ate an awesome dessert. We didn't make it to midnight (except for my dad who decided to go party with the neighbors after we all fell asleep), but I'm okay with that. We got up this morning and it was just as mornings should be...especially the first one of the year. Again we ate great food (a common theme in our family gatherings)....at one point, I thought, "This is exactly how life should always be....all of us gathered around the kitchen, chatting, laughing....my parents loving on my babies, my babies doing silly things to make me laugh, my Sweet Hubby smiling at me from across the table...." It was like something out of movie. We left there to go visit my in-laws. Again, it was a great time with them. It was a beautiful day and while the boys played outside, I sat and read. Later on, my mother-in-law asked if we all wanted to go Walmart, so the boys and I loaded up with her and we headed to town. She suggested slushies from Sonic after Walmart and the boys were all over that idea. After the errand at Walmart, we headed over to Sonic. And we almost made it there....almost.

After pulling through the intersection of the corner that Sonic is on, a woman in another van hit us. Hard. My mother-in-law banged her head on the seat belt adjuster thingy. The kids were fine, but Marc-Adam scared me by immediately falling asleep after it happened. And I did something that I'm so very ashamed of. After making sure the kids were okay (but before checking that my mother-in-law was okay) I hauled out of my van over to the woman in the other van and called her an ugly name and hollered at her that I had babies in my car.

I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I actually cussed at this stranger, who, although was slightly stupid for a second, had no idea that I had kids in my car and certainly had no intention of hurting me, my mother-in-law or my children. Who was I for that second?

I've spent the evening immersed in all different emotions, including guilt and shame. I seriously can not believe I behaved that way. I'd hate to try to explain what I was feeling at that moment for fear that it might sound like justification for my behavior. But I was mad. M-A-D MAD that someone could be so stupid and put my kids at risk. I was so scared for those few split seconds between the time of the crash and the time I knew that the kids were okay, and then I was just mad. And I feel so guilty for not checking on my husband's mother. She ended up calling 911 while I was hollering at the lady. My mother-in-law was bleeding from the head while I cussed at a stranger.

*sigh*

But it certainly has put things in perspective. Stephen, immediately after the accident, was still asking about his slushie from Sonic. Zachary was asking for his lovie. They are fine. Perfect. Beautiful. Absolutely healthy and safe and unharmed. Just a little bit after the accident, I was able to sit down and feed Marc-Adam. Things could have been so different.

So, I don't have a van for a few days. It leaked radiator fluid all over the intersection and the whole front-end is going to have to be redone and realigned. But the start of our new year is great. I'm sitting here blogging while all 3 of my sweet children sleep peacefully across the hall. My mother-in-law, while banged up and sore, is on her way home right now from the hospital. She's gonna be fine. The day and year started off with all the people I love most. And if I can get over who that person was that took over my body for a few seconds, I think I'll look past this accident soon. Or maybe not...it certainly has made me remember what's really important.

May God keep you and your loved ones healthy and safe as we enter another year.

And I'll be adding that post about my goals for the new year soon.