Express Lane Hump Day

Ex wanted to send a stranger to pick up Billy. "No" set off name-calling, threats, Arrena's texting fingers of fury.

Express lane sunday

Newsflash: mom gets sick and the kids lose their minds. Wait, you've heard that one before?

Adventures in Dentalwork, Billy Edition

Before Smile:

Wow. What a long day. I'd rather have surgery myself than do that again. Literally.

As a mom, you realize that you would gladly walk through fire for your child. You'd rather have the surgery than to watch your "baby" go through it and not be able to help. And, just like a mother, you feel guilty for the whole durn thing because we all know that no matter what, it is always all your fault.

Today my six-year-old son had major dental work done. Nine teeth pulled, three crowns, two fillings, and a therapeutic pulpotomy (whatever that is).

I've known Billy had teeth problems for a while now. Here's where the guilt part comes in. I was a tired mom of three and I let Billy go to bed with a sippy cup even though I knew better. He has not been an easy child, so in order to keep him calm and save my sanity, I caved. My husband says I cave any time Billy is involved, but I am trying to be better. In the beginning, I didn't get his teeth fixed because I didn't have the money. Then, I hoped that the baby teeth would come out on their own. But, since he seems to be slow at most everything, he didn't lose his first baby tooth until a couple of weeks ago, two months before his 7th birthday. His teeth got worse, he started having pain, and we found out he had three abscesses. It was time to get it done.

The financing was something else altogether. The cost of this was astronomical and I tried calling insurance companies and other dentists and oral surgeons to find another option. But, the long and the short of it is that dental insurance doesn't cover general anesthetic and medical insurance will only cover dental expenses if there is an injury. With Billy's special needs, there was no way we could do this extensive work without general anesthesia. He would never have allowed them to come near him with a needle, let alone all the work they needed to do.

They originally scheduled him for noon, but changed it to 1:30pm. He was not allowed to eat anything after midnight--a long time for a little boy. He could have sips of water until 9:30am. I had to give him about half a spoonful of yogurt in the morning to take his meds with, since he can't swallow them whole. The dentist's office called in the morning and said they were running behind, so he was pushed to 2pm.

We had decided not to tell him about the surgery until the day of the surgery. We weren't sure if he could handle hearing all that. We didn't want him freaking out for two weeks. So, the night before, I told him he wasn't going to school, that he was going to the dentist to get his teeth fixed. He asked if they were going to pull them out and I said yes, some of them, but that they were going to give him medicine to make him go to sleep while they did it. He seemed to take it well.

We got to the dentist's office a little before two. Since this is a pediatric dentist, they had a couple of video games in the waiting room and Billy amused himself with that for a while. He brought one of his little stuffed bears and had fun dropping it from a little window at the top of a climbing/slide play area. We waited for a long time. It occurred to us that we were not going to get done in time to pick the girls up from school, so I called the school to arrange for them to stay at the after-school daycare.

Eventually, the anesthesia nurse came out and gave him some medicine to drink to make him sleepy, got his weight, and filled out paperwork and went over the risks with us. She kept checking on him because he was thumping around like boys do and she was afraid he was hitting the floor. She asked him if he was sleepy yet and he kept saying no. We finally asked him to come sit by us because we didn't want him to fall. He sat on my lap and played games on my phone. I started noticing that he was wobbling and he almost fell off my lap. I asked if he was tired and he said, "No, this medicine doesn't work. I'm dizzy, but not sleepy." Scott put him on his lap, but he wanted mama back. Then he protested being held, period. He did not think he was incapacitated and didn't understand why we wouldn't let him get up. I put him in the chair next to me, but he jumped up and tried to run. He stumbled and bumped into a tiki statue (their decor is jungle), jumped up before I could reach him and ran again. He stumbled again and this time, he went head first into the wall and started screaming and crying. He'd hit his face and ear and now has a light bruise under his eye.

He couldn't be consoled after that. Not only had he hurt himself, but he still didn't understand that he couldn't get up. He fought being held and we wrestled him. He kept screaming that he wouldn't hurt himself again, that he was okay. He argued, "I AM in control of myself!" Then he started talking funny, not finishing his sentences. He was still fighting us, but he could barely talk. The dentist came back out and heard what was going on and felt so sorry for him since he had hurt himself. The anesthesiologist came out and basically told us the same stuff his nurse had said. It was a good thing he didn't say anything new because I could barely hear him over Billy's wails.

Scott carried him back and as soon as he was laid on the chair, he was quiet. He had a hold of his bear and they had Rio on the TV above his head. They put a monitor on his toe and put a mask over his nose and mouth. They had him inhaling nitrous and an inhaled anesthetic. I held his hand and the anesthesiologist talked to him as he drifted off and let go of my hand. It was very hard for me as a mother. I have been under numerous times, but this was the first time I have watched this done. Usually it's done behind O. R. doors or if I'm the patient, I am asleep and have no idea what is going on. But, watching my baby laying there limp and hooked to machines was awful. I don't know how parents of sick children do it. This was just dental work and I was near tears and nauseous. The anesthesiologist was basically breathing for him, squeezing the bag to try to get him through the second stage of the anesthesia as quickly as possible. Apparently in that phase, the vocal cords can slam shut and cause him to not be able to breathe. I was worried that this would be a problem since he was crying so long, the mucous can cause this. It was frightening to me to see his chest rising and falling, his cheeks inflating with every squeeze of the bag. But even more frightening when the anesthesiologist took the mask away to gesture as he "talked shop" with my paramedic husband or to squirt nasal spray into his nose. He seemed to POUR that spray into his nose three times. Overreacting mom felt like they were drowning her baby.

When they put the breathing tube down his nose, I couldn't watch. After they did that, they took us to an office they had set up with snacks. We waited rather impatiently and I knitted furiously. Scott went to get us some food since we hadn't eaten all day and it was now about 4:30pm. He hesitated, asking me if I would be okay. I assured him I would be. I called my friend Elizabeth because I knew a fellow mom would understand how I felt better than my medically-minded husband, God love him. About 5:45pm, we figured we were not going to make it in time to get the girls from daycare, which closed at 6pm. Scott didn't want to leave, but I couldn't get a hold of any of my friends to ask them to pick the girls up for us. As Scott was getting ready to reluctantly leave, the dentist came in and told us that they were done. She told us he was doing well and reiterated what they had done. She said they were going to take him to another room to recover and they would come get me to see him.

Scott left to get the girls and a few minutes later, they came and got me to take me to Billy. He was curled up in an exam chair with a Toy Story blanket over him, the nurse keeping the hand with the I.V. under the cover to keep him from pulling it out. He was breathing with his mouth open and the first glance at his bloodied, tooth-deficient mouth was pretty heartbreaking and scary. They had warned me that most children cry coming out of the anesthesia and that some kick and thrash. Boy howdy! I lost count of how many times the nurse and I saved him from hitting the floor. He cried, he whined, he kicked, he thrashed, he rolled, he banged his head into the chair and yet he was still asleep. The nurse and I sat on each side of the chair and kept grabbing the flailing body parts to keep him from hurting himself or us. Occasionally he ended up in my lap. At one point, he flung his arm up over his head and hit me across the face. The anesthesiologist stepped in and said, "Billy...how are you doing?" At the sound of his name, Billy opened his eyes and turned his head to face the doctor. But, it was obvious he still wasn't awake yet. The doctor left again and we continued our vigil. I talked to him and crooned at him, but he didn't respond. His first words were, "I don't wanna wake up!" Then he started crying, "mama." He also said he was scared several times. He asked for a clock. When I asked why, he said he wanted to see what time it was. He said, "I want Scott!" I told him that Scott would be back soon. He said something about the dentist, but I couldn't make out if he said, "I want to go to the dentist," or "I don't want to go to the dentist." All the while, he is still kicking and fighting. I'm not sure how many injuries the nurse sustained, but I got kicked in the jaw at one point. He tried to pull out his I.V. and we had to stop him from hitting himself in the head with his own fist. Then he said, through tears, "I want to go home now." I told him he could go home as soon as he calmed down. He had said he was thirsty, so we gave him a blue popsicle, which he sucked on a bit. He asked for his socks and shoes. The nurse said he could go, so I asked him if he would promise not to kick me if I put his shoes on. I was getting enough without the shoes. He had been kicking Scott in the waiting room before with those shoes and Scott could attest to the kicks being more forceful with them on.

It wasn't easy juggling him, his popsicle, his bear, his jacket, my purse, and my knitting bag. My phone battery had died, so I asked the receptionist to call Scott, who said he was about ten minutes away. I lugged Billy out of the office, down the elevator, and to some comfy chairs by the front door to wait. By this time, it was about 6:30pm. Billy whimpered a bit and kept asking to go home, but he finished eating his popsicle and laid in my arms.

When Scott and the girls arrived, I tucked him into his carseat. He smelled the McDonald's the girls had and asked for fries. I told him he couldn't chew them but that we would get something when we got home. He fell asleep in the car on the way home. When we got there, Scott carried him in and we laid him on the couch. I gave him half a dose of liquid Lortab and a Pediasure. He tipped it back and drained it! He was thirsty and hungry. I gave him a pudding cup and he scarfed it. We giggled at him because he shoveled it in as fast as he could and had chipmunk cheeks. He also ate some Jell-O and drank some V8 Splash. Then he laid back and watched TV for a little while. After being tucked in, he only got up once, crying that his tummy hurt. He ran to the bathroom, but was nodding off on the toilet, so I tucked him back into bed. Poor little guy! So glad it's all over!

UPDATE: I kept him home from school Thursday, but he seemed so good all day, I wondered if I should have sent him to school after all. In talking to him, he doesn't seem to remember anything between playing games on my phone on my lap and watching TV on the couch.

After Smile (taken the day after surgery, so he looks pretty tired):

Depression: a Cure and a Cause?

I love my husband...he gently reminds me that I haven't written on my blog in a while. So glad that he is supportive and encouraging of my writing!

Well, update from my last post.... I had thought that was all there was to my little breakdown, but apparently that wasn't it. If you remember my blog from last year, I was finally on some antidepressants that actually helped with no weird side effects or personality changes. But, I lost my insurance and wasn't able to afford them or my doctor anymore. I had hoped that my depression was situational and that once my situation had improved, I would be fine. However, even after I thought I had things figured out and Scott and I had talked about my feelings, I didn't feel better. I would start crying while fixing dinner, for no apparent reason. I felt paranoid and desperate. I have felt sadness too much of my life and I certainly didn't want to waste any more of my life like that. I felt guilty for feeling depressed when I have everything I ever wanted and in all respects, am happy and blessed and content. Maybe my depression is chemical, genetic, or clinical, not just situational. So, I went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago and he gave me a new prescription for my old antidepressants. I am feeling more normal now. The paranoia and desperation are gone, I haven't cried since, and I am enjoying my life much more now. Guess it will be a fact of my life--may have to take the meds for the rest of my life. If that's what it takes to avoid feeling that way...then that's what I will do.

On another note, the kids have been struggling with the selfishness of their dad. He hadn't called or showed up for visitation in over a month. His mother had spoken to me and told me that he had taken off on his girlfriend Mandy that he said he was going to marry last month and that he was with another girlfriend Sarah. He had been telling me that he had been paying child support, but that for some reason it wasn't reaching me. His mom confirmed he was lying and paid a fraction of it (along with his bike payment) to keep him out of jail and collections a while longer. Well, tonight, he finally called the kids. Apparently, he married Sarah and now wants to resume seeing the kids.

I am frustrated on so many levels. It disturbs me that the kids so easily accept that he was going to marry Mandy in April, but married Sarah in May. It is appalling to learn that the kids knew about her and other girlfriends while their dad was living with Mandy. What kind of example does this set for them? How do I combat all of the things they have seen and know and continue to learn at his hands?

There's a deeper ache at how he can blow them off for a month, not so much as a phone call and doesn't bother to give us his phone number so his kids could call him, that they twice expectantly went to the meeting place believing that their dad would show up to pick them up yet leave angry that he cares so little that he not only doesn't show up, but doesn't even have the decency to call and tell them that he can't come this time. And yet, when he calls, all that seems to fade away from their memories and they get excited and exclaim, "Daddy!" or "I love you!" It hurts me (selfish jealousy, I am sure) to be the parent that is always there, doing everything for them, loving them day in and day out, not just when it suits, but to hear on a regular basis that I am a mean mom or "I hate you" or "You are ruining my life," yet he gets, "I love you, daddy! When are you coming to pick me up?" If I feel that way, I wonder how my husband feels, who is daily much more of a dad to my kids than their biological father is. He hugs them at bedtime and tells them he loves them; he provides for their every need (without the help of child support) and many of their wants; he spends his days off eating lunch with them at school, helping out on field trips, or helping me finish decorating their new room; he is there to pick up the pieces when their dad doesn't show up, scooping them into his lap and turning their anger to laughter. I once read a book that had a line in it so profound that I wrote it down: "Kids chase the love that eludes them...Why do kids assume so much from one parent and hold the other to a lower or looser standard? Maybe it's like my old man said, 'You can be a mommy's boy or a daddy's boy, but you can't be both.' So you cling to the one you think you might lose." I believe that was from "For One More Day" by Mitch Albom. I know my kids are smart and that eventually they will see which parent they can trust. But that brings me to my deeper pain. I can deal with the wounds of being mom, but what hurts my heart the most is when they are hurt. I am sure that this will not be the last time that their dad is selfish or blows them off. So, I have to watch them be hurt over and over again and I can't do anything to stop it. A mom's instinct is to protect her children, but when courts get involved, they dictate what is right and wrong for your children. And for courts, it is a black and white, antiseptic, across-the-board decision. Keep on subjecting the abused to the abuser and the children to being rejected by their own father. Oh yes, that's certainly going to be better for their self-esteem than to never have contact with their birth father. The court system has a long way to go before it can claim it operates under "justice".

So, as mom, all I can do is accept the situation and be there for the kids when they need me. Truly, isn't that what all mothers do anyway?

My Caribbean Cruise Blog Day 9 (well, technically, it's still my cruise blog, even if we're not on the ship anymore!)

Non-cruiser’s Log, Day 9 (1/17/10)

We got up at 3:30am, thanks to Scott. I had my alarm set to weekdays! We got on a shuttle at 4am and headed to the Miami airport. Side note: I am concerned about any airport whose abbreviation is MIA….

It took a long time to get through security because the line was LONG. They finally opened another line and things started moving faster. We finally got through a little after 5am. We ate a little breakfast, then went to the terminal. We boarded and flew to Charlotte, North Carolina. The only time I have ever been in North Carolina was back when I lived in Tennessee and we went to Cherokee. The mountains are beautiful. I miss the south.

We had a 3 ½ hour layover in Charlotte, so we pulled out the laptops and visited Chili’s for my favorite chips and salsa! I am a little miffed at Chili’s because they took away one of my favorite dishes, the chicken bacon ranch tacos. Now they have these mini corn tortilla tacos and they are not very good. Anyways, I digress…

We finally boarded the plane and headed for home. We got there in no time and took a shuttle to where we parked the car and took off for home. The kids had made "welcome home" signs and had prepared a little "welcome back" lunch complete with streamers strung here and there, party hats, and those funny blowout noise makers. I had a great time, but I am glad to be at home. I really missed the kids. I had the best time, just sharing the pictures with them and having Billy fall asleep in my lap. There's no place like home!

Thanksgiving 2009

My thankfulness post may be a long one because I have so much to be thankful for.

First and foremost I am thankful that God sent His Son to die for me and took the punishment for my sin upon himself so that I may have an eternal home in Heaven. Words can’t describe how wonderful that gift is. All pales in comparison.

I am thankful for my children. Only one of them was a planned pregnancy, but God sent the other two to me at special times in my life when I needed them. They are each unique and special and enrich my life. Though they often frustrate me and make me angry, I cannot imagine a life without them in it. I feel as though they are my entire purpose on this earth. I am grateful for their good health as my heart breaks to see parents lose children in death. I appreciate Arrena’s responsibility and willingness to help even when not asked. I appreciate Kimmy’s sense of humor and her intelligence. I appreciate Billy’s bond with me and his observation skills. I am thankful for the privilege of having them lent to my care for a short time and pray that I will not waste the opportunity and that they will grow up to be all God has planned for them.

I am thankful for my family. I love my mom and am so very grateful for her care for me. She has really gone above and beyond this year, allowing me and the kids to live with her for a time, loaning me her only vehicle, lending me money, and generally being there for me. She is (again) making me a wedding dress. She and I may not always see eye to eye but she is always there for me. I remember one night this year in particular when I called her, bawling my eyes out and she talked to me and calmed me down and gave me direction to get through the problem. I am thankful that my mother raised me the way that she did, that she taught me God’s Word, kept me in church, taught me to read, was a stay-at-home mom in my early years, etc. I am thankful for all the rest of my family. I have many loving members of my family that I am proud to say I am related to. I am thankful that God answered prayers this year for my grandpa’s health. I feared he wouldn’t see another Christmas, but he is still with us.

I am thankful for God’s financial provisions. This last year has been a very hard one, in many ways, but especially financially. I hadn’t planned on being a single parent. I had actually wanted to be a stay-at-home mom and my husband had agreed. So I didn’t go to school and learn a high-paying skill. I eventually went to work part-time to try to pay down some debt, which never seemed to go away. When I found myself parenting alone, the part-time pay was fine as long as we lived simply and had child support money coming in. But when the kids’ dad lost his job, he stopped paying. I tried to go full-time, but any extra I made went to paying for childcare for me to go to work, so it made no sense and helped us not at all. I also had to pay for health insurance. And then work started cutting my hours even further. Sometimes I was only bringing in about $650 a month. My rent alone was $575. How do you support 3 kids on that? My ex and I had also been supporting his missionary foster parents with $50 a month and I knew I had to keep that going because they depended on their support to live. God also burdened me to pledge $10 a month to our faith promise missions at church, in addition to my 10% tithe. $10 doesn’t sound like a lot, but it was to us. I had no idea how I could afford all of this. But I read Luke 6:38-- “Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” and Malachi 3:10-- “ ‘Bring all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house, and try me now in this,’ says the LORD of hosts, ‘If I will not open for you the windows of heaven and pour out for you such blessing that there will not be room enough to receive it.’ ” And God’s Word is true.

Early on in this divorce/separation, I was staying at my mom’s and I had nothing to my name. I had no car, no money, and it was not payday week for me. I ran out of foundation make-up and conditioner. No big deal in the grand scheme of things and not something I would complain about. Who cares about makeup when your life is in a shambles and I’d just have to live with brushing tangles out of my hair the hard way. But then there was a knock on the door. I was tempted to not answer it, as it wasn’t my house, but I did and found a group of women in the yard and on the porch. They handed me a heavy gift bag and invited me to a “Friend Day” at their church (which, in a twist of fate, was the old building of my old church, where I “grew up”) where they give away clothing and canned food and free medical screenings. I thanked them and went inside. When I opened the bag, I found it was full of cosmetics, including foundation (and in my skin shade!), and some hair care products--no shampoo, but a bottle of conditioner! Tears sprang to my eyes and I knew that if God would take care of little details like conditioner and makeup, He would handle my needs as well. My little insignificant details were important to God. Wow! And when times were tight, God always provided. It doesn’t make sense, the numbers don’t add up, but at the end of the month, I always had enough. I paid my bills and gave to the church and the missionaries. It was always there. Sometimes it was interesting how God provided. I had to swallow my pride many times. I had to go on food stamps and go to a clothes closet and a few food pantries, which I loathed doing and was so ashamed of, but I came to see it as God’s provision. Twice, the kids’ dad came up with some money when I needed it. And when Scott came along, he sent me a check for $500 to help me out. I resisted because I didn’t want to take charity or owe him anything. But I prayed and asked God to provide another way, but if not, I would know that Scott’s money was meant to be God’s provision. I had seen too much for too many months to doubt that God would provide. It became a matter of “how” not “if.” God provided no other money that month, so I swallowed my pride yet again and cashed Scott’s check.

And now, I am pleased to find that God has placed me in a sound financial situation. Scott makes good money, enough to where we feel like I will probably not have to work and will be able to be a stay-at-home mom like I always wanted. I am thankful that he had some inheritance money built up so that he has been able to accommodate us and our needs. He has been paying for my lawyer and bought many things to make us more comfortable in this house and make it home for me and the kids. And he was able to pay for a new addition on his home to give us more room. Construction started a couple of weeks ago. While money doesn’t buy love, the practical side of me had that aspect on my list for a potential husband: financially responsible and secure. I am ever thankful for how God has provided for us this year and I trust that He will in the coming years.

I am thankful for encouragement from God, which has come in many forms. Song lyrics are an obvious choice and I won’t go into all of the ones that have spoken to me as you can read them here in this blog. Scripture verses that I find at timely junctures in my life are another encouragement. Today I was reading Psalm 37 and found it very soothing for what is occurring in my life at this moment. I may blog that one, it’s so good. It was mentioned in my Sunday school class last week, which causes me to believe it was not accidental, but a seed planted for me to harvest in my mind later as the week’s troubles unfolded. Once when I went to one of the food pantries, I got home and was unpacking the food items. At the bottom of the large sack was a random bottle of conditioner! I felt like it was God's little love note to me, His reminder of how He provides for me! sort of a, "Don't forget, Robin, I will even provide you with conditioner!" There have even been times when I feel like God is revealing a truth to my heart, such as Jesus dying for me PERSONALLY, not just as part of the collective world, or about my feeling condemned and like a failure because of my sin, or about there being something greater in life than my personal struggles, or feeling that God is with me in the midst of fiery trials and that He is in control of it all and has my best interest in mind. Knowing that He is ultimately in charge, not any judges in a courtroom or whoever, and that He will ultimately work things out for MY good! There have been some instances where I felt encouraged by being able to get back in touch with friends I hadn’t talked to in a long time. One day, a woman walked through the YMCA locker room singing a hymn that fit the need in my life at that particular moment. I saw a note on a piece of mail at work that had the words to a hymn and the phrase "If you can't see past earth's shadow, look to Jesus and his light!" There are times when a specific word or phrase or verse comes into my heart at the precise right time. There have been times when I have felt like God has literally caused me to stop what I am doing and come to Him in prayer, pouring my heart out. Once I truly felt pushed to the ground and held there. I needed to stop and rest and receive peace and comfort and I did. In the courtroom, I felt like Jesus was there, holding my hand, and in my mind I imagined reaching my arms up to my Father to hold me like a child and was calmed by the thought. The list could go on extensively.

I am also thankful for my future mother-in-law, whom I not only like, but truly love to death. She is a sweet, wonderful lady. It’s very nice to have a mother-in-law that you like because I have had the other kind and it ain’t pretty! I have gotten along well with Sue since we met over 16 years ago and even continued to write her after Scott and I broke up back then. Whenever she wrote back, she was sensitive to my feelings and never mentioned Scott to me, which I was always amazed at. She prays for us and encourages me often. She has welcomed me and the kids into the family with open arms and as though we were not tainted by divorce and remarriage and step-parenting, etc. She treats us as her own. I love her as a mother-in-law, but also as a friend. And she babysits too! ;)

Finally (I think), I am thankful for Scott. I am thankful that he never stopped loving me in 16 years. That’s so amazing to me that I can’t comprehend it. I am thankful for how he treats me. It is radically different than what I have experienced and it feels nice to be put on a pedestal. He accepts me with all my faults and some of what I thought would be deal-breakers, he actually finds endearing! What’s wrong with him? Ha, ha. I am thankful that even though I tried to scare him off, he wouldn’t run. I am continually amazed at how eager he was to take on all my baggage, because, let’s face it, there is a LOT of it. I am thankful that he has not only accepted my kids but actually loves them and treats them very well. I am thankful that he is willing to help me parent and does such a great job with Billy--better than I do even. I am thankful that he is generous and was willing to give up his money to buy trampolines and swingsets and tickets to Hannah Montana concerts and pay for preschool and a lawyer and to add on to his house, among many, many other things. I am thankful that he wants to go Christmas shopping for the kids with me, even if that caused a minor misunderstanding. ;) I am thankful that he is so even-tempered and doesn’t get mad often and when he does, his reaction is to become quiet. I am thankful that he is willing to help me with chores around the house. I am thankful that he agrees with me not working. I am thankful that he brings me flowers. I am thankful that he listens to me and remembers what I say. I am thankful that he searched for and found a replacement for something that had been very important to me. I am thankful that he went to Jared's (ha, ha)! I am thankful that we have a lot in common. I am thankful that he is an encouragement to me. I am thankful that he gave up his brand new SUV for me to drive while he drives his old pickup truck to work. It’s a minor thing, but I am glad that he likes to decorate for Christmas. There are so many things that I appreciate about him that I would be here the rest of the day if I were to list them out. I’m not delusional, it’s not all a bed of roses, and there are things about him that drive me nuts, but I appreciate him more than I can say. More than anything I appreciate how he was there to catch us when we fell. God worked it out so that he was there at the right time to be able to take us in and care for us when we had nowhere else to go. I can never thank him enough for willingly walking into our nightmare and accepting all that came with it. I love you, honey.

I’m sure if I sat here the rest of the day, I could think of many more things to be thankful for. But I will leave it at that.

And while I am not thankful FOR the situation that I am in now, I am thankful while I am IN this situation (I Thessalonians 5:18-- “In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”). Romans 8 says that God will work it all out for my good and to conform me to the image of Jesus Christ. The ultimate goal is to be more like Christ. Praise Him from whom all blessings flow!

Dead Animals...

The following events happened a few months ago, but I am just getting around to writing about it...

At the back of our house, there is a hole in the roof's overhang. I am not familiar with all the terms for parts of the house, so forgive me if I am unclear. A bird decided to build her nest up there, much to the delight of the neighborhood cat, Jude, who likes to sit on the window ledge, waiting for the opportunity to snag the bird as she flies in and out. He is patient and hopeful, despite the fact that I have repeatedly urged him to give it up, pointing out that the drain spout somewhat blocks his reach of the opening. He's a very optimistic feline. Well, the day came that the baby birds hatched. We found egg shells littering the concrete stoop and the manic shriek-like chirps of newborns could be heard far and wide.

My kids like to play with a couple of children that live a little ways down the block and they were all happily playing outside when the commotion started. All the children, en masse, rushed in the house, one of them cradling something in his hand. They were beside themselves and all talking at once. The story, when I got them to calm down enough to be coherent, was that they had found a baby bird that had fallen out of his nest. They had told the little boy not to touch it, but he had anyways, and now they were sure that the baby would die. They begged me to help it. They were ready to care of it themselves. Kimmy even went so far as to put padding into one of their dollhouses. However, I found out that it is against federal law to keep a wild bird. Okay, now I like animals, but honestly, if the children hadn't been there to beg and plead in near hysterics, I would have likely left the animal to its natural fate. The neighbor children also ran home to their mother to ask for her assistance. I immediately went to the greatest expert known to man: Google.

Apparently it's a myth that touching a baby bird will cause its mother to abandon it. The article I read suggested trying to put the baby back in its nest, if it is easily reachable. I grabbed the step ladder and gingerly took the funny-looking, floppy little thing (gotta say, I wasn't crazy about touching it at all) and with 5 children and one mom looking on, I attempted to return the infant to its nest. This was easier said than done. The hole was large enough to stick about half of your hand in, but way more difficult to stick it in when you are trying to hold something. And there was the added complication of a nail jutting out into the hole. Great real estate, mother bird! Finally got the baby in there, but I couldn't reach far enough to get it back from the hole or get it up into the nest. I worried that it would wriggle out again.

I was right. The kids came back a little later, with the bird again. The article I had read before suggested putting it in a padded shoebox and then calling the Audobon Society if you can't put the baby back in its nest, or the Humane Society. I put it in a shoebox, then tried looking up the number for the Audobon Society. All I could find was a P.O. Box number. Well, that won't do any good--would have to write them a letter!? So, I called Animal Control. The guy there said, "Um...I don't know...sorry." Then I called the Humane Society. They said that I should call a nature center and gave me the number. The guy there said no, but that I should call a "rehabilitator" and gave me the number to one. The rehabilitator that I called said that she has never had one speck of luck in rescuing baby birds. She suggested that I just let it die. Easier said than done, when you have 5 very excitable children looking on. She finally suggested that I put the baby back in the hole, push him as far back as possible with a stick, then put grass and leaves in there to keep him from rolling out again.

When I went to get him out of the shoebox, however, there was blood around his head. I think it was coming out of his mouth. And he wasn't as full of life as he had been before. I think the second fall may have caused some internal injuries. I decided he would probably die and even if I put him back in the hole, his mother would push him out when he was dead. So I stuck him up there, poked him back with a stick, and placed leaves and grass inside to keep him from rolling out. Then I kept a sharp eye out. The neighbor kids went home and my kids came in the house. I knew mama bird must be back because I started seeing grass and leaves hanging from the hole or falling down to the ground. Apparently she didn't appreciate my decorating skills! When I checked a while later, the baby was on the ground again and this time he wasn't moving. Before the kids could see, I put him in the shoebox again, and hid it in the trash dumpster.

My kids never asked about the bird again. They assumed that since they hadn't seen him on the ground, he was fine. The little girl down the street came by the next day when my kids were gone and asked about it. I lied! I told her he must be fine because I hadn't seen him. I hate lying, but I couldn't bear to tell them that he had died! The girl's mother called me a few days later to ask me about it and I told her the truth. But, to this day, the kids think that the baby bird had a miraculous recovery and lived a long, prosperous life!

Billy had a rather different experience with animals. On his 3rd day of preschool, he dissected a fish. He came home, telling me all about it. I thought he was making up a story. I mean, whoever heard of dissecting animals in preschool? That's just silly! I asked his teacher about it and she said that they had, in fact, dissected a fish. They have pet fish in their classroom and the kids were having trouble understanding what parts a fish has and if they are like people, etc. The teacher decided to buy a whole frozen fish and take it to school to show the kids. She said she had hoped one of the other teachers might be more into it than she was, because she was a little squeemish about it. They weren't. She said she just decided to suck it up and do it because if she didn't act scared, the kids would be fine with it. She let them each practice scaling it and they looked at the insides and the gills and even cut its eye out. She has a picture up on the board of Billy holding the fish's eyeball with a caption that says, "Billy said the eye felt nasty." Billy thought it was great! A couple of weeks later, they played with little dead squids too. Gross!

Arrena also had a dead animal experience. We were walking through the park and she was riding her bike. I saw something on the ground, but before I could make out what it was, she had run over it. Thwump, like a speed bump. Kimmy started screeching and Arrena skidded to a halt and looked stricken. Apparently she had run over a baby bird. Kimmy was calling her a bird killer, but I am convinced that it was already dead. Whether it was dead or not mattered little to Arrena, who felt terrible about running the poor thing over. She looked so forlorn, hanging her head in guilt and saying, "I'm a bird killer." Billy, of course, wanted to pick it up and examine it. He probably would have taken it to school to be dissected. I'm betting Miss Kristalyn wouldn't have appreciated that one little bit.

A Bunch of Comedians...

My kids are funny and I am afraid I have only myself to blame for it. I never thought I was that funny, but people often tell me that I tell stories in a very funny way and my mom is always after me to write them down. The kids think I am a regular stand-up comic. I tell them one funny joke or do one impression and they expect an hour-long routine. The most common phrase heard around here is, "Tell us something funny, mom!" Now my memory is bad and I am a little slow coming up with quick witicisms, so I can't just pull them out of a hat. They apparently think I should. Now I have a line of successors...

First in line for my comedy crown is Arrena. Today when she got out of Boys and Girls Club, she was in a very silly, giggly mood. We were discussing the hole in the armpit of her club shirt. She said that all of them were like that, adding that they were delicate. She giggled and said, "I don't even know what 'delicate' means!" We all laughed at her. A little while later, we saw an ambulance and a fire truck on the side of the road, but no obvious fire. She asked why a fire truck would be there if there was no fire. Before I could get my answer out, she came up with one of her own. She said, "Maybe if they had trouble picking someone up, because they were really fat--like dad--" (at which point, we all burst out laughing because it was said so nonchalantly, like it's a common-known fact that her dad is HUGE {he's overweight, but not THAT big}, then she continued without missing a beat) "--they would call the firemen because they are strong and muscular." Muscular. At age 8, she is admiring the build of firemen???

On to Kimmy...ALWAYS a contender... Yesterday, I asked her to go outside and tell her sister it was time for dinner. She whirled around and spat, "Slavery is OVER!" Overreacting much?

And last but not least, we have Billy. Not to be outdone, he is often funny without intending to be. We were walking through the park tonight and saw triplet toddlers being pulled along in a vehicle that can be described as a cross between a wagon and a train--one "car" for each of the little boys. Billy asked if we could get one of those. I said that we don't have any small babies anymore to use that. He said, "When I get big, I'll marry you and we'll GET some babies." Ooooo-KAY! While I love that he loves his mama, sometimes he is a little bit too oedipal.

Oh, and last night he really surprised me. He has a plush lion that has a pull string that plays music. He's had it since he was a baby--it was a crib toy. He calls it "Blueberry". I asked him if he wanted music. As far as I know, he hasn't played with it in quite a while. I pulled the string and he said the music was from Pinocchio. I stopped and listened because I had never paid attention before. Sure enough, but that little bugger was right! It was "When You Wish Upon a Star". I asked him who told him that and he said no one. I said, "Well, how did you know that?" He smiled and said, "I just know that!"

Kids...

Delving Deeper into the Dark Recesses of My Mind

There are so many metaphors: wandering in a fog, feeling my way like a blind man, stuck in quicksand. But, they all apply, however trite. My depression ebbs and flows like the tide. I'll feel like I can't breathe and can't function. I overreact to everything. I cry uncontrollably. I feel physically ill and weak. I don't have the words to express how I feel or why and even if I did, I wouldn't be able to say it without the dam breaking. Sometimes it's triggered by a situation or a perceived "situation" and sometimes there is absolutely no reason--I was choking back tears at High School Musical on Ice before it ever started and couldn't figure out why. Then after a few hours, I feel human again. Sometimes I feel like I am going crazy. The only anchor for me is the children. I can be so confused and dazed and drowning and then one of the children needs me and I feel jolted back. They can't have a mama that's unable to care for them or losing it. They are like a lighthouse, the northern star, the horizon. As long as I keep my eyes focused on them, I can plot my way. The strange thing is that when I am swirling, my thoughts are coming in song lyrics. I thought of several yesterday and I decided to put them down here so the next time I feel tossed by the waves, I can read them and ground myself. So, please excuse me. This is less blogging and more of my personal journal.

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ Name.

When darkness seems to hide His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

-------------------------------------

This world is not my home I'm just a-passing through
My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue
The angels beckon me from heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

Oh Lord you know I have no friend like you
If heaven's not my home then Lord what will I do
The angels beckon me from heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

-------------------------------------

She never slows down.
She doesn't know why but she knows that when she's all alone, feels like its all coming down
She won't turn around
The shadows are long and she fears if she cries that first tear, the tears will not stop raining down

So stand in the rain
Stand your ground
Stand up when it's all crashing down
You stand through the pain
You won't drown
And one day, what's lost can be found
You stand in the rain

She won't make a sound
Alone in this fight with herself and the fear's whispering if she stands she'll fall down
She wants to be found
The only way out is through everything she's running from, wants to give up and lie down.

So stand in the rain
Stand your ground
Stand up when it's all crashing down
You stand through the pain
You won't drown
And one day, what's lost can be found
You stand in the rain

-------------------------------------

I can count a million times
People asking me how I
Can praise You with all that I've gone through
The question just amazes me
Can circumstances possibly
Change who I forever am in You
Maybe since my life was changed
Long before these rainy days
It's never really ever crossed my mind
To turn my back on you, oh Lord
My only shelter from the storm
But instead I draw closer through these times

What Can You Say About Mothers-In-Law That Hasn't Already Been Said?

In sharp contrast to the previous post about Chris' foster parents, there is Chris' real mom. I hesitate to write about this, fearing that someday it will get back to her, somehow. I can really sum her up in one description: she is manic-depressive and schizophrenic, if that gives you any idea of what we are dealing with.

A BIT of background: She was 15 when she had Chris. She had three more sons after that, spaced two years apart. The youngest was adopted by her half-brother and his wife and he only found out he was adopted about six years ago. The next youngest was raised by his father in Ohio. That left Chris and his brother Michael. She was far from mother of the year. She was a drug addict and would leave her kids with strangers when she was high. She once left the kids at the house and called her mom on the way out of town, to tell her to go get them. To this day, she insists that she left to be hospitalized for an illness. When Chris told her that his step-mom was hitting him for refusing to call her "mom", her only reaction was to say, "Well, I guess you better start calling her 'mom' then!" She dated guys that would beat on Chris and Michael until Chris got big enough, then he started beating them up first so they wouldn't touch him or his brother. She once called Chris over to help her because her boyfriend was beating her up and when he arrived and started hitting the boyfriend, she called the cops...on Chris! There are tons more stories like this, but I don't have the time to appall you with them right now. She will even admit that she wasn't a good mother, but somehow she still thinks that Chris "owes" her something.

I wouldn't blame him if he never spoke to her again. In fact, there are times when I wish he would take that route. But, I think the respect he gives her is based wholly on his Mexican heritage. Women aren't treated equally by the men (at least in his family), but they are taught to respect their mothers, no matter what kind of person she is.

She really drives us crazy. Her mental illness makes me afraid to leave the kids with her, but Chris refuses to withhold the kids from her. I worry about the negative influence she has on them. The girls caught her rolling her own "cigarettes" once, if you know what I mean by that! We were livid. Once, she had been watching the kids and only an hour or two after I picked them up, she called Chris threatening to kill herself. He is not the person to get sympathy from. He will call your bluff and force your hand. He told her to go ahead and hung up. Apparently she called her clinic or something and they called the police and had her hauled in to the mental hospital. She called me a couple of days later from there, saying that she would still watch the kids when she got out, that no one was going to take her grandkids away from her! I was thinking, "Well, let's get you out of a straight jacket and then we'll talk about it!" Sometimes I wonder if her craziness is an act to get attention. Chris thinks it's mostly that she fried her brain with all the drugs she has done in her life.

Lately, the source of annoyance with her has been financially related. A couple of years ago she had tried to get disability partly for a back injury she had gotten in a car wreck and mostly for her mental illness that renders her unable to work with the public. She doesn't deal with people well. Even the kids--she can only handle them for a few hours and then they start getting on her nerves and she has to bring them back. Especially Arrena, who takes great pride in arguing with her Gaga Pat and telling her off. Kimmy likes going over there because she is Gaga's favorite (which infuriates us, that she plays favorites, and that it's so obvious, even to the children) and gets whatever she wants. Billy likes going over because he likes her newest (fifth) husband Jack (their wedding is pictured here, "minister" in the middle) because Jack lets him do guy stuff with him. But, I digress. She was on welfare while she waited for the disability to be approved. That can take years, which I know from when my dad got it. But, when her welfare was finally cut, she went and got a job, ruining any chances of getting the disability by proving that she does have the ability to work!

But, her working is sporadic. She quits if someone ticks her off. Or she won't show up and gets fired. Then she will sit without a job for months. Her husband is a steel worker, and makes great money when he is working, but he often finds excuses not to go to work. Or he fails his urinalysis and gets fired. They have no children at home and lived in a cruddy neighborhood, so the rent wasn't high. They didn't have any bills besides their month-to-month bills, so they should have been fine. But, they could never pay their bills. They constantly ask us for money. She sometimes will call and ask if one of the kids can come spend time with her, but it's just a ruse because as soon as she comes over, she hits us up for money. They were really dumb because they took on two car payments! They couldn't pay their rent and were evicted. I couldn't understand where their money was going! They weren't paying their rent or their car payments, they were constantly asking for money, but they always had cigarettes and would be out drinking at a bar and obviously Jack was getting weed since he was failing his U/A's! Chris gets phone calls from check advance places, asking him to get a hold of her for them, because she owes them money. We have a car loan at the same place they do and every time Chris goes in, they ask him about his mother's payment. He gets so mad about it because she is an adult, why should they expect him deal with her? She is just another customer that they should deal with themselves, instead of calling him every time she misses a payment. She tries to throw guilt trips on us: "It must be nice to have two cell phones and a home phone when we can't even buy milk and toilet paper!" Like we should feel guilty because we go to work every day and earn what we have. Or like we should support them because they want to sit at home and be lazy. And I feel like when we do help them, even supposing we give them money for milk and toilet paper, we are supporting their other habits in a round about way!

Anyways, they are now living in a travel trailer (one of the dumb things they decided to spend money on instead of paying their bills) in an RV park. Half of our garage is filled with their stuff. They swore they were getting a storage unit and it would only be in there for a couple of weeks. So far, it's been there about a month and a half. With winter approaching, I'd like to be able to park my truck in there!

The other dumb thing is that Jack (who looks like Sam Elliot if he had ever played a biker--sort of a cross between his roles of Virgil Earp in Tombstone and Wade Garrett in Road House. Ooh, I just saw a picture of Sam Elliott online that looks more like Jack, so I'll post it here.) decided he wanted to have a motorcycle built. He basically had a frame and that was it. Maybe a few other random parts. Chris took him to see his bike mechanic and Jack left the bike with the mechanic who started working on it. Jack stopped paying him. The mechanic is holding his bike until he gets paid. This has been going on for a year or so. Finally in the last couple of weeks, Jack has started paying again. Who knows how long it will last.

When we had the going-away party for Chris' foster parents, we invited his real mom to come because she liked Jesse & Tena and wanted to say goodbye. We told her what time the party started and when she heard that Chris was speaking at the beginning, she said she wanted to be there for sure to hear that. She also agreed to help with the kids since we would both be busy. She finally showed up when the party was mostly over. Most of the guests had left, the chairs and tables had been packed away, and we were loading up the leftover food in the back of the truck. Kimmy ran after me as I was taking the apple crisp out to the truck and said, "Wait! Gaga Pat wants some apple pie!" I said, "Well, then grandma should have been here hours ago. We are trying to clean up." And since I refused to bring the food back in just for her, she was joking with Tena, that she would come over later and eat our leftovers. I said, "Oh, really? That's like the story of the little red hen who asked everyone to help her bake the bread. No one helped, but everyone wanted to eat it!" They laughed, but later she was complaining that I had told her she couldn't have any of the food at all. She comes over and raids our fridge any time she feels like it anyways. She has even eaten food that I had set aside for a meal.

Sunday was her 48th birthday, so we took her and Jack to Texas Roadhouse for dinner. I think it would have been easier to have gotten her a gift. The kids ate free and we still spent $90! She had the nerve to get mad at us because we wouldn't buy her an alcoholic drink. For one, not with OUR money. For two, she was taking two of the kids with her to spend the night! Why can't she just be happy with the expensive meal that she got?

I had to talk about all of this so I could get the negative out and continue trying to be nice to her. It's not easy.

Kids Say the Darnedest Things, Part 1

Tomorrow we begin our vacation. We will be camping for three days in Oklahoma at my family reunion, then we will be having a party for Chris' foster parents who are leaving in a couple of weeks to be missionaries in Canada. I will likely not have time to blog in the next week and a half, so on the eve of our departure, I was thinking of some of the funny things the kids have said recently and thought I would share them with you.

Billy likes for me to sleep facing him when he is in my bed. If I turn away from him, he either runs around the bed and gets on the other side or he tries to twist my neck around so that I am facing him again. The other night, I had stepped on one of his toys on my way to bed and was limping and muttering and didn't feel like accommodating his sleep preferences, so I turned my back on him. He began twisting my head around, so I turned around and tried to find a comfortable spot. I heard this little exasperated voice in the darkness: "Stop moving!" I laughed and then explained that I wasn't happy with him because he left his toy out and mommy stepped on it and hurt her foot. He said, "Mommy cuckoo!"

Billy's latest drama is to hand me his empty sippee cup and throw his head back across my lap and moan, "Me dying, me dying, me dying."

Kimmy, always a source of amusement, was scratching daddy's back the other day. She turned to me with a look that was a mixture of the melodramatic and pure orneriness, and said, "I'm going to need a shovel, some disinfectant, and some oregano." Along the same vein, as we were driving to Pizza Hut to eat another day, she said, "If they give me a picture to color, I'm going to need a jar of honey, 100 red ants, and the cover of nightfall." (Arrena tells me she got these lines from TV, I think from Hannah Montana.)

Somehow we got on the subject of surgeries I have had. The girls asked a lot of questions, especially about the time that I had to go to the emergency room after Kimmy was born because some of the placenta had been left inside me. Several days later, Kimmy said, "I'm sorry, mom, I left my purse in there! I got my keys, my wallet, my phone, and my driver's license, but I left my purse in there." When we asked her about the keys and driver's license, she said, "When I was a bean, I had a little bitty car." She added, "It was a very friendly place in there. My only friend was the heart. When I played checkers with the heart, it always won because mom kept moving my checkers."

Kimmy loves to watch Animal Planet. The Ugliest Dog Contest came on the other day and Kimmy was appalled and offended. She said, "Dogs aren't for fashion! They're for pets! How would they like it if there was an ugliest person contest?"

And Arrena, not to be outdone, had a couple of funny moments of her own. She told me that, "Dad acts like that TV is a lullaby." I was puzzled and asked her to explain. She said, "Every night he comes home and lays down on the couch, turns on the TV, and falls right to sleep."

Tonight Chris and the kids were watching one of their much-loved crime reality shows and they were telling about a group of thieves who broke into a business to rob it. They didn't know that the security guard was watching them on the surveillance cameras and calling police and directing the police with every move they made and every direction they went. Arrena looked at us and shook her head in disgust. She muttered, "They should have put bags over the cameras." Chris cracked up with a look of surprised disbelief on his face and I said, "We're going to have to keep an eye on this one if she's figured out the smart ways to commit robbery!"

Well, that's a wrap for this amateur night of comedy!

(P.S. For those of you who have my blog delivered to your email inbox, I added a couple of pictures of the girls' first day of school to that blog post after it had already been delivered to you, so you might check those out!)

Today we went to the zoo and the park. My husband said we were dumb because it's been cloudy and REALLY windy all day. But, the forecast said it wouldn't storm until later, so we enjoyed the cooler weather. We decided to pack it in when we were at the park and a tree split in half and half fell over the picnic table we had been eating at and the swing I had been sitting in only moment before! Yikes! Well, it makes for a good blog anyways.



At the zoo, one of the elephants decided the grass was greener on the other side...of the ravine that separates them from the people. So, she was reaching her trunk all the way over, her knees bent to stretch farther, only inches from us. It was so cute.

I meant to write and brag about my kids sooner. Arrena always deserves bragging because she is such a little grown-up and such a good helper. Sunday at church, Kimmy & Billy's Sunday school teachers were just raving about them. She said Kimmy is like their little ambassador, always very friendly to new kids. And she said Billy is always so good, which made me wonder if she had the wrong kid. Billy is never very good at home. But I am glad he is good elsewhere. I always worry.

Billy was so cute yesterday. The girls and I were saying our prayers and he wanted to pray. He folded his hands, bowed his head, and said, "Thanks [for] popcorn."

Lessons a 3-year-old teaches you, part 2

Our SUV has child safety locks that have malfunctioned--we can't turn them off. So, if you are in the back seat, someone has to let you out. The girls figured out that they can roll down the window and unlock the door, then let themselves out by lifting the outside handle. I wondered how long it would take for Billy to catch on to this. Yesterday was that day. We had gone to pick up the girls from school and were sitting in the car waiting for the bell to ring. We always turn the car off and roll down the windows. The next thing I knew, I heard a click, Billy yelling, and looked to see the door swinging open and Billy going with it. My first fear was that he would fall face first onto the sidewalk, but he was smart and held on. He started whimpering, "Help me, mama." I fought the urge to laugh and ran around to rescue him. He was hanging from the door, about 6 inches from the ground. I just knew all the other parents were sitting in their cars, nearly wetting themselves over this unexpected entertainment. I scooped him up in my arms and hugged him (he was so scared). He gets angry if you laugh at him, so I tried so hard to be the kind, compassionate mother ("Are you okay? It's okay, baby."), but I will admit that a few giggles did burst unbidden from my lips. I couldn't help it.

A similar incident happened just a couple of weeks ago. He had been leaning out of the car window when his sister Kimmy opened the door, knocking him off balance. He clung to the door and swung there for a brief second before I was able to grab him. Both of these incidents reminded me of my brother when he was little. I was about 7 and my brother would have been about 2. We were moving and mom and dad had rented a U-Haul or some such moving truck. It was huge to us kids. Anyways, being a boy, my brother wanted to ride in the cab of the moving truck. I don't remember who opened the door when we got there, maybe dad, but my brother had just then grabbed the handle and was swung out with the opening door. He said the only thing going through his mind was the words of a John Anderson song, "Just A-Swingin'."

The moral of this story? There are several. If you have a toddler, watch out before you open a car door. If you have a toddler, watch him at all times! You never know what that crazy kid will do! If you can, grow eyes in the back of your head. And if what you are leaning on, suddenly pulls out from under you, hang on tight so you don't fall down.

International Harvester by Craig Morgan

This is the kids' current favorite song. We especially like it because the video was filmed on our city's streets! I am a little disappointed because I tried to upload the video in the post, but it would never load, even though it was the correct format and under the size limit. So I had to use YouTube and the quality of the video is nowhere near what my actual video looks like. Maybe I can figure it out later on. But, at least you get the idea! Kimmy is such a ham! Enjoy! (In case you don't catch it, instead of saying "p-p-p-p-plower", they say, "f-f-f-f-flower" and instead of "bumper crop," they are convinced the words are "bumper car"!)

Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day. Last week my husband asked me what I wanted for Mother's Day. I had forgotten that the day was even coming up! I said, "I'd like to sleep late on Saturday morning!" Saturday is the only day I have to sleep late since I have to get my kids up for school Monday through Friday at 6:30am (though mom sometimes stays in bed a little longer) and we get up for church on Sundays. For six years, I delivered newspapers for a living, going to bed, getting up at 2am or earlier, throwing my route, then coming home to grab a nap before getting up to take my daughter to school. Last year, I quit and got a job doing data entry from the USPS. I work 7pm-11pm. Sometimes I have to work later or I go to the grocery store on Fridays and don't go to bed until around 2am. You can imagine my disappointment when Saturday morning around 6 or 7am, my kids start crawling into bed with me or my husband decides to chat with me. He usually goes to work around 1am, so 6am is sleeping in for him! And we get so little time together these days that he takes what he can get for chats. But four hours of sleep is too little for me, so this was my wish!




Yesterday morning, I woke up when my husband crawled into bed. He and my son had fallen asleep on the couch. I put Billy to bed and tried to wake Chris up, but he was dead to the world. So I went to bed alone. When I woke up, I realized that Billy was on one side of me and Arrena was on the other side. Chris tried to talk to me, but he must have remembered my wish because he said we would talk later and to go to sleep. Then I remembered him sending Arrena out of the room and trying to dislodge Billy from his usual spot right next to his mama. Billy refused. Chris whispered something in his ear, but Billy still refused. Chris said, "you always ruin my plans." I don't remember how it happened, but Billy eventually left. I remember waking up again with Chris getting dressed. I thought it odd because he was wearing his hat and getting socks, so I knew he must be going somewhere, but I didn't know where.



The next time I woke up, Chris was there and saying, "I've held the kids off, but they want you downstairs." I thought it must be really late since I had woken up a few times, then gone back to sleep and they had left and returned. The clock said it was a little after 9am. Chris said the kids had gotten him up at 5am. When I came downstairs, arranged on the table were notes, a card made by Kimmy at school, Arrena's silhouette made at school, a bouquet of multi-colored roses, and a box containing a heart shaped necklace with a large pink stone that said "love". I tried to get a picture of the necklace, but it wouldn't come out right. Anyways, this is a big deal because sometimes my husband forgets and that's a big deal to me because after reading Gary Chapman's Five Love Languages, I know that my love language is gifts. It was all really sweet. Billy had gotten his Gaga Pat to get me a pot of miniature roses yesterday. Chris said he picked out the flowers, sniffing them until he found just the right bouquet. This is only the second time my husband has ever bought me roses! Arrena said that I must really like the necklace because I keep wearing it (2 days in a row!).



My mother gave me the picture in the shadow box frame that you see here. She made it with material from both of our wedding dresses and cross-stitched the words and added the corsage she wore to my wedding and pictures of she and I at my wedding and of her and her mom at her wedding. It is really special. She made my wedding dress out of four different patterns that I picked out. She also made hers too. The blue hearts are from the material that she made her bridesmaid dressed out of.

The pastor's sermon today was really convicting for me and I have begun to really think hard about my temper with my children. Well, maybe it was less what the pastor said and more God speaking to my heart. I am praying for God's help with this. I was never a short-fused person before, I don't think. I think a lot of times my anger towards the children is misplaced--I'm angry at my husband and I take it out on them. Anyways, I have been trying to deal with this, but I just feel worse and worse about it. I want them to have a happy childhood, not grow up saying that their mother was angry all the time. I try to be calm and speak to them, but it doesn't seem like they respond until I get loud. Anyways, this is something I must work on. I want to be a mom that hugs and cuddles and plays and has fun and teaches them about God from my example, not the mom that yells and strikes fear. I want them to respect me, not fear me.

Lessons a 3-year-old teaches you, part 1

Okay, my husband will kill me if he knows I am publishing this on the web (he said if I told another living soul, he would deny it), but it is such a funny story that I have to tell it.

In the baby section of the store, they have these little containers of snacks. I'm not sure what you call them--they look like pieces of cereal and they are flavored cheese, apple, mango, etc. I had bought some for my 3-year-old son because, for some reason, he likes them. Anyways, I guess while I was at work last night, Billy was eating some and he fed some to his daddy. My husband said they were nasty tasting, but he ate them anyways to make Billy happy. He asked Billy, "do you have any more?" Billy nodded and reached into the front of his diaper and pulled out some more! My husband said he literally gagged. I, however, found it frickin' hilarious! I laughed until I cried.

Moral of this story? Never eat anything a toddler hands you. You have NO idea where it has been.