160 bpm, babycakes!

Today I went for my first prenatal doctor's visit. Everything checked out fine. We were able to hear the heartbeat (at 160 beats per minute). The doctor searched for a second heartbeat as well, but was unable to hear one. He was checking for two because of my advanced age (35!), and the fact that I have been having severe morning (all day, of course) sickness. He did, however, say that it is quite common not to be able to hear two heartbeats this early, even if there are two babies. God help me if it is twins! (Thankfully, I know he will!)
My due date is July 29, but it will likely be a C-section about 10-12 days earlier. My 2 year old's birthday is on July 25, so I am glad it will not fall then. I am 10 weeks along, but measuring at 14 weeks! No wonder things aren't fitting too well. . .

(The title for this post will likely only be understood by my parents and sister (and anyone else who lived in Indy in the 80s and quoted an hhgregg commercial as much as we did!))

Hair today, gone tomorrow

This morning at about 5:30, I was awakened by my 4 year old, who wanted to get in our bed. I helped him into the bed, settled in facing him, and closed my eyes to go back to sleep.
He looked at me and said, "Uh, can you pass the hair?"

Come again?

We were putting the decorations on our tree last week (well, my husband and children were - I was watching from the couch), and my husband asked one of the children about an ornament he was holding. It was a bunch of grapes, and he was asking the child what Bible story it was associated with.

The child said with exuberance, "It is because Jesus is King of the Juice?"

We interrupt this blog. . .

to bring you - morning sickness! Of course, whomever named it that was completely wrong - it should have been called: all-day-lay-on-the-couch-wonder-how-much-longer-this-will-last sickness. From my station on the couch, I am watching my house slowly get messier and messier, and the laundry pile up to toppling heights. Thankfully, my husband is wonderful and is doing so much to keep us afloat for the next few weeks until this passes. The kids are also pitching in, making their own dinner(!), snacks, etc. I am so glad they are so helpful!

I have been asked during the throes of "morning sickness" - "Is it really worth it?" The answer is a resounding, "YES!". I am a pretty big baby, and am not good at toughing things out, but the answer remains a solid yes. I'll be sick for awhile, but in a few months, God will give us a baby! A brand new person, a new member of our family, a new soul! Amidst all the nausea, I am thankful!!

One of my chief duties. . .

"Mommy!" My 4 year old yells from his post on the toilet.
"Where the heck are you? I need you to wipe my bottom!"

Make a joyful noise!

Last night was my 4 year old's Christmas program. He was beside himself with excitement beforehand. He got all decked out in his Christmas black and red, and even allowed me to wet his hair down a bit.
The church was packed, but if I sat up very tall, I could just barely see him. Thankfully, he is one of the tallest kids in preschool! He sang and sang his little songs. That is, he sang/shouted his songs. You know what I mean. In every school program, there is one kid you can hear above the rest. This kid is really into praising Jesus. Well, as we found out tonight, it turns out that is our child. We were in the back, and my husband and I exchanged several glances as we heard his voice quite clearly.
I think I could have heard him in the parking lot. I had tears in my eyes.

We give thanks!

We celebrated this Thanksgiving with almost all of our family. It was wonderful to share time with all of them. We laughed, played ridiculous games, and ate. A lot. We all enjoyed it!

The best part, however, of this Thanksgiving, was the news we received just beforehand. As if we don't have enough blessings already to be thankful for, we were given another. Yes, in 9 short months, we will add another baby to our family! Some may say we are crazy to add another member to our brood, but we say we are blessed. With each new child we are given, we are gifted with a treasure. We grow, we learn and we are joyful (most of the time!). We are so thankful for this new life growing inside me!

The kids are thrilled, and everyone seems to want a girl. My daughter has wanted a girl for awhile now, and I wonder if the boys think that having a brother is not all it is cracked up to be (sharing the toys, sharing the bedroom, fighting all the fights. . .the list goes on). I wonder if they think a little sister might be somehow easier.

Regardless of gender, we are thrilled. We look forward to meeting the newest member of our family in late July.

Beethoven's Ninth

This is a lovely piece of music.

However, it loses a bit of its luster after being played repeatedly on the piano by my daughter. I have encouraged my daughter to practice (as this does not seem to be her natural inclination), so I have no one to blame but myself. I suppose my parents can relate, as my sister and I pounded out countless attempts at piano pieces years ago.

Maybe someday she will be a famous concert pianist, and I will look back on these days (and the fact that Beethoven's Ninth is permanently etched in my brain) fondly.

Home again, home again

I returned last night from a glorious weekend in Galena, IL, with all my college girlfriends. It was heaven! We shopped, we ate, we talked (and talked and talked!), and we laughed together. What a blessing they all are to me.

When I arrived home, I had a reception I rarely receive (since I rarely leave for so long!). The kids all attacked me and gave me monster hugs. Though it is nice to get away (that is a minor understatement), it is always good to come home!

The cheese stands alone (er, make that the mommy)

I'm sure so many of you are waiting with bated breath to see who else is afflicted by the plague in our house. Well, (drum roll please) my husband was hit last night. Thankfully he is doing fine this afternoon.
I have not had the stomach flu in at least 20 years. I know I am tempting fate by writing that here, but I hope I go another 20 (or actually the rest of my life!) and remain unscathed by it.

And then there were two. . .

My daughter gave in to all the germ peer pressure this morning. Thankfully, my husband and I are still well. This evening, everyone seems to be on the mend. Maybe tomorrow I will be able to venture out of our house o' sickness!

Not everything works like rollover minutes, son

This morning at breakfast, my 7 year old son (who is feeling better now after his bout with illness yesterday) asked if he could have both today's allowed pieces of candy as well as yesterday's pieces.
He's nothing if not optimistic!

Another one bites the dust!

My 7 year old son succumbed to the ickies this morning. When you have lots of kids, I guess it's only a matter of time before they all get sick. Ironically, germs are the only thing my children are happy to share with each other.

The best laid plans. . .

This morning, I got up, my mind running in a million directions. I had a doctor's appointment this morning, with a sitter coming over for my 2 year old. I had much shopping to accomplish all afternoon, my daughter was having a friend over after school, and then there was RCIA at church tonight (confirmation class that I am involved in). Not being much of a homebody, I was looking forward to the day of busyness.



Then, after my husband left to take the older three to school, my youngest son threw up. As I knelt there consoling him, my mind began to flood with the day's planned activities. The people I needed to call, the appt. to reschedule, etc. Then the disappointment set in. . .no shopping, no class tonight (my small group is great!), nothing. Nothing but staying home all day. I quickly changed out of my going-to-town clothes and put sweats on (no point in dressing up for vomit!).



After awhile, I began to think that maybe it would be good for me to be forced to stay home all day. I could make the peanut clusters I was planning to make. . .I could wash the floor. . .and most of all, I could play with my little boy and spend some quiet time with him. Though I am still sorry to be missing out on most of my plans, I am truly thankful that God has given me this quiet day to be together with my littlest child.

Seven things I'm lovin' right now. . .

In no particular order -

1. Coke Zero. All that great Coke taste and NO calories. Life is good. Sadly, it does have caffeine.

2. Falling gas prices. I saw $1.94 today. I know it can't last, but for now, hallelujah!

3. The rose my husband brought home for me tonight. For no reason. I am so blessed to have him!

4. Viva la Vida by Coldplay. I have no idea what it means, but I love it.

5. The Time Traveler's Wife. A friend recommended it recently, and it has completely drawn me in.

6. Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa. We saw it on opening day Friday (we took out a second mortgage on the house to do it, but hey, is there a better reason to do that?), and we all loved it. Of course, we might actually hear all the lines when we rent it in a few months. . .

7. Christmas shopping. I start early and enjoy every second. It is shopping I am supposed to do - no guilt!

Election party!

Though we are disappointed in the national elections, last night we had a pretty compelling election right in our family room.
While the kids were at school, I printed a ballot for dinner choices. As soon as the kids heard about our vote, they immediately got into the spirit of things. My 7 year old went right upstairs to put on a tie and dress shirt, so he could properly debate the menu options. The younger boys followed suit (no pun intended). My two year old had his tie clipped to his Mickey Mouse t-shirt. It made for a very cute picture.
When Daddy got home, the debates began. We had Senators Fish Sticks and Chicken Nuggets, Senator Milk (who was Daddy - he gave an impassioned speech) and the like. My daughter was the mediator and asked some thought-provoking questions (such as. . . Why do you think you should be eaten?).

Watch out, Washington!

It seems. . .

inherently wrong for my sweet two year old to keep repeating today, in his angelic voice, "Shake your booty!, Shake your booty!".

Gotta love Daddy dance time in the evenings. The kids just love all those 80s songs.

A new blog!

I have recently begun blogging at Lots of Kids, a website for larger families. Check it out!

The power of advertising

This morning at breakfast, my 2 year old was crying. My daughter, in an effort to cheer him up, said, "We need to go to Disney World right now!"

"Why?" I asked.

"I've seen the commercials!" she replied. "Disney World made a baby boy learn to walk!!"

Disney World. The cure for all of life's maladies.

By the numbers. . .

80+ items of laundry I washed and folded today

30 number of almonds my youngest dumped on the counter today

1 number of times I was hit on the head by a ball today (surprisingly low)

2 pieces of Halloween candy I consumed today (okay, I admit that is a lie. The truth is too painful to type).

1 number of times my youngest used the potty today (we're making progress!)

6 number of times I said to myself, "Calgon, take me away!" today

Halloween horrors!

Last night. Two trunk and treats. EXTREME amounts of chocolate.

The children are hyper from all the sugar, and I think I have gained seven pounds already.

And just think - we will be getting more on Friday. . .!!

Junk art!

My daughter's class is going to make junk art projects today in school. They were told to bring in "junk". . .peanut butter lids/jars, toilet paper tubes, etc. We scrounged up a few items for her to take in.

Our daughter is a pack rat. Just last night, I was telling her about stories I have read of people who become trapped under their toppling piles of stuff. She thought it is was quite funny; I hoped it wasn't a vision of her future! Anyway - my husband and I were talking this morning and thought she should submit her entire room as her junk art assignment. I think she would win the grand prize!

A surefire way to attract the children

Yesterday, a friend called soon after we arrived home from school.

"It's so quiet at your house", my friend commented when I answered.

I said I was in another room. But I told her the solitude wouldn't last. My children have radar. They seem to intuitively know when I am on the phone, and quickly ambush me. It turns out I was correct. Within 30 seconds, two of the four were in my face demanding more snacks.

How does that saying go. . ."if you build it they will come"?
In our house it's. . ."if the phone is on your ear, they will come".

Car seat woes

I have a love-hate relationship with car seats.

On the one hand, they do this little thing called protect-my-children. We completely enforce the law with car seats. Our children have never been in a moving vehicle without their seatbelts or safety straps securely fastened. (Well, okay, one time when my daughter was a baby, I unknowingly drove around the corner to the gas station without her straps buckled. I about had a heart attack and berated myself for hours over what could have been a horrible tragedy.)
When the kids were babies and screaming bloody murder on long car trips, we either powered through or we pulled over and let them wiggle. We sang songs, we tried white noise on the radio, anything to calm them down. I even tried nursing one of the kids while he was in his car seat. I do not recommend this, by the way.
My point being, we never (knowingly) fudge on the car seat law.

That being said, car seats make me crazy!! It takes my husband several tries to install the car seats (though he's been doing this for 8+ years, it is still impossibly difficult!). To get it it completely tight, he has to put his whole body weight into the seat, attach the little silver clip, wiggle it around to be sure it worked, sweat profusely, and pray fervently. Usually this is all done under severe time constraints, 100 degree heat or pouring rain. Forget the possibility of me installing one. I am not nearly strong enough, and when I try, my effort is laughable. The seat wiggles around so much you could actually fit one of the children behind the car seat.
The straps are also frustrating! Just today, I was buckling in my youngest, and his straps were all twisted. How does this happen? Each time we buckle him, we are careful to keep them straight. It's as if the seat has it in for us.
We will continue dutifully putting our kids in car seats and booster seats (I think our daughter will take her booster on her first date - she'll be 16 before she gets to the 80 lb. requirement!), but just because I love them, doesn't mean I can't hate them too. I'm a woman. I have the right to several conflicting opinions at once.

A poet who didn't know it!

My mom and I watched this little poem unfold during worship yesterday. My 7 year old son intensely worked on it for several minutes. I didn't know what a budding creative writer he was!

The winter is cold

the snow is fun

but most of all, the hot cocoa is best.

Bonus!

I sat down tonight to read, after all the kids were in bed. I am in the middle of a very intriguing book, so the TV was just supposed to provide some background noise.
Lo and behold, one of my favorite movies was on TV. You've Got Mail. I have seen this movie countless times, I own it, and I can recite most of it. Still, though I could watch it at any time, I was thrilled. This sweet romantic comedy is giving my gripping novel a run for its money.

A sure sign the dining room needs attention. . .

Our dining room has been taken over by my 7 year old son. The table is filled with Legos, in various stages of assembly. There are direction booklets everywhere, bricks scattered and finished products lying in the debris. We haven't dined on this table since his birthday (when he received many of these Legos) a month ago.

My four year old son wandered in there this afternoon. I called out, "Where are you going?"

He replied, "To the Lego room."

Maybe the time has come.

Gender bias?

"Mom," says my four year old, "I wanna get a Power Rangers video from the library."

"No," I replied. "They're too violent."

"But Mom, there's girls in it!"

MRI-i-i-i

This morning, my 4 year old son had an MRI. He routinely gets ultrasounds to check for the childhood cancers he is at risk for due to to his syndrome. Those are easy, a piece of cake.

Not so, the MRI.

He started out chipper, despite the fact tht he was denied all food and beverage this morning. We had a great time beforehand, and even the IV start wasn't too bad. A balloon man came around and made him a dog, a hat and a sword. He thoroughly enjoyed wielding the sword while we waited to go back (see yesterday's post, re: violence). He got numerous stickers and a sucker for after the procedure. He was pumped about going to sleep and getting his tummy's picture taken in the big machine.

When it was our turn to go back, he did great as they gave him the sedation drug in his IV. He drifted off, needing only 3/4 of the allowable dose. I waited outside, reading People (I seem to have a penchant for that magazine in waiting rooms). Soon they came out and said they had to readjust some of the equipment that had shaken loose when he coughed.

It was all downhill from there.

He was coming out of the sedation and trying to sit up. They gave him the last 1/4 of the dose, but to no avail. The remainder of the tests were not going to happen. We gave up and moved him to recovery. He immediately asked for his balloon sword and began fussing and crying. For the next forty-five minutes, he tried to sit up, stand, push me away, grouch and whine, all while brandishing the sword.

Right before they released us, he began begging to go school. By the time we were home, he was in full, hysterical tantrum mode. He screamed at a fevered pitch for another half hour. Finally, he passed out in my lap on the couch.

I wonder if I could snag some of that sedation drug. . .

A day in the life

Some snippets from today, a typical day in our house:

My husband gave me a hug after dinner. ALL of the children were somehow drawn to us like fish to water. Almost immediately, they were cramming to get in on the hug. Then, my four year old son starting doing karate chops. That's how it is around here. Too much love, things must go violent.

I am still drowning in the change-of-seasons clothes switcheroo. It seems to be a never ending job. It might have an ending, I must say, if I did not have two "helpers" today. Everything I put in a box was soon removed. My 2 year old liked to clomp around in much-too-large shoes, and my four year old was obsessed with jumping around on a bean bag on my bed. I had to put a stop to that, since going to the ER today wasn't really on my agenda.

I have spent countless minutes (possibly hours) nudging my 3rd grade daughter to get her long list of homework assignments done this evening. She is only in 3rd grade. Heaven help me in the years to come.

My 2 year old son broke a cup that had glitter in the inside chamber. He looked like he was ready to do a show on Broadway (as a girl). He (and the floor in a 5 foot radius) was covered in glitter. Sigh.

It is now 9:00. I think I can rest for a bit. Until tomorrow, when I get to do it all again!!

Word up!

My husband is quite good looking, in my opinion. I often think, "How did I get so lucky to have such a handsome guy?". Well, the other day, I found him even more attractive, I have to admit. You might be wondering, "Did he wear some new clothes? Get a new haircut? Try some new cologne?"

The answer is no, no and no. He used the word "synecdoche" in ordinary conversation.


I realize that this makes me sound like a geek. A nerd. A semantics-, linguistics- etymology-loving dork. That's okay. I was so enthralled by this new word that rolled off my husband's tongue that I immediately asked for a defintion and then scurried to the computer to learn more.

I told a friend about this exchange between me and my husband, and he came up with the example: "Schenectady is a synecdoche". If you're intrigued by this word and its example, I challenge you to look it up as well. If you do, maybe there's a bit of a word lover in you too!

When a fine is not so fine. . .

My husband has a problem with the way I spend some of our money. It is a small portion of our annual income, to be sure, but nonetheless, it is an annoyance to him. What irresponsible thing do I do, you ask?

I sometimes "rent" books from the library.

The library concept involves checking out books, reading them, then returning them by a specific date. All for free! This is America! However, sometimes that is difficult for me. I can easily check them out, and even read them, but often that due date slips by unnoticed. Then, voila! poof!, a mere few days have passed, and I am informed by the librarian that I have a fine.

Sometimes this is not my fault. I have found many a book under a bed, under a rug, in the danger zone called my daughter's bedroom. . .the list goes on. I have four little library users who do not always return their books to the bookshelf. But, try as I may, I cannot completely blame the kids. The bottom line is: the due date just slips up on me!

So, to my local library, enjoy the extra revenue I generate for your branch. Buy some new books with all of it. If we decide to check those new books out, I will do my best to return them on time!

Self diagnosis

I have a sickness. I have had this sickness for awhile, but I have been in denial. Today, I made a step toward getting well. I accepted that I have a problem.

I cannot leave short voicemails.

There. I said it. I can't deny it any longer. It is out in the open.

I am unable to leave succinct messages. I feel I must ramble on with the entire content of my call. I can't say, "I have a question, call me back!", in a cheery voice. I must wax eloquent about the subject at hand. I have tried, oh I have tried self-help techniques, but to no avail. Before leaving a message, I chant to myself, "You are a strong, confident woman. You CAN leave a message that is less than three minutes long. GO YOU!!". It doesn't matter. I still prattle on in a mind-numbing fashion.

Those of you have been on the receiving end of one of these soliloquies know. You have rolled your eyes at me and sighed loudly, wondering when (or if) my message will ever end. To those of you who have felt this pain, I apologize.

Step one is always realizing you have a problem. Perhaps sometime in the future I will move on to step two, which is actually attempting to solve your problem. For today, acceptance is all I can handle.

A swing by any other name. . .

Yesterday, my daughter had a friend over after school. They went outside to play, causing my 4 year old son to have a sobbing fit. He was crying so hard I couldn't figure out what the problem was.

Finally he said softly, "I don't want them to swing on John".

He has named his favorite swing "John", and apparently has sharing issues.

My daughter is reading this over my shoulder and informing me that she named her favorite swing "Lucky".

I'm sorry to report my childhood was woefully bereft of swings with proper names.

Clothes call

For the past week, I have been slaving in the basement trying to organize all our children's clothes.
We have a TON of kid's clothing.
We could clothe a small country with what we've got down there. I am trying to rebox everything and make sure the labels are correct. Since we are probably not done having children, we can't give everything away yet. I am, however, trying to pare down. If the last couple of kids haven't worn it, or if I just plain don't like it, it is going to Goodwill. I have already filled up 7 boxes for Goodwill, and I'm not quite done yet. It is liberating.
It is a beautiful day (and has been beautiful for the past week). Why again am I doing this now, and not in the middle of January?

40 years and still counting. . .

Congratulations to my parents as they celebrate their 40th anniversary. May you have many, many more anniversaries to come (and maybe more trips to take with all of us?).
My husband and I just celebrated our 12th anniverary. Only 28 more to go till we reach this milestone. I bet the time will fly.

Dermatology gone awry

I was at the dermatologist's office a few weeks ago for a yearly skin check (when you have a complexion like mine, you can't be too careful). I had left the children with my husband, and while a doctor's visit isn't exactly my ideal on-my-own adventure, I was, nonetheless, alone. I was looking forward to sitting in the waiting room reading some trashy magazine like People. I got checked in at the front desk, and turned around to find a seat and grab a magazine.

Except there were no magazines to be found.

There were, however, lots of pamphlets on laser hair removal, botox treatments, spider vein procedures and the like. I was understandably disappointed, but sat down anyway, near the TV which was tuned into what appeared to be some sort of health infomercial. I sighed and turned toward it, every now and then scanning the room to be sure I hadn't missed something interesting to read.

I hadn't.

I had no choice but to listen to the woman on the infomercial. It turns out, she doesn't think I am very attractive. She thinks I need to have several treatments done to put my best self forward. She made several comments in the vein of ". . .even though you are beautiful, you can still be more. . .". I scanned the room to see who else was being subjected to this. To my left were two teenage girls and their mother. Thankfully, they were reading something of their own and laughing uproariously, completely oblivious to the TV's propoganda.

I sat in the waiting room for about ten minutes, and heard most of the woman's spiel. By the time I went back to my exam room, I was a little miffed. While the doctor checked my skin, I felt like saying (but did not), "I know I have spider veins, and cellulite and stretch marks. I'm sorry. I know how unattractive I must be".

The doctor himself is a very nice man, but I couldn't believe he would subject (dare I say force?) his patients to listen to and read this stuff. If anyone had a low self esteem upon entering the waiting room, he or she would certainly feel worse upon leaving! In a world where celebrities are being paraded in front of us, showing off their perfect bodies and being portrayed as the norm, we don't need to feel this way at the doctor's office as well.

It was a very disturbing message. Here is my message, (for the three of you who read this!): Love your body! God gave us these bodies and they may not look Hollywood perfect, but He loves them just the way they are.

I scream, you scream. . .

I have just witnessed THIRTY straight minutes of hysterical screaming tantrum from my two year old. This is very out of character for him. Daddy and the older two kids left, and he was great. I put him in his highchair to feed him the granola bar he requested, and his beverage of choice, juice. At this point, he lost it. Out of control screaming, refusal of the coveted sippy cup and granola bar. I tried everything (and so did his brother - it was sweet) I could think of to make him stop. I had taken him out of the highchair during the pandemonium, but finally decided to put him back in. He continued screaming, then suddenly looked at the juice on the counter and said, "Izza?" (which means "What is it?"). I said, "Do you want the juice?", he said yes, took it, and drank it happily.
I will NEVER understand the mind of a two year old!

The power of prayer

My four year old's prayer began as usual, but tonight he added something new to be thankful for.

"Dear Jesus, thank you for Mommy's hair".

This is my hair-obsessed son praying. He is most happy when he is playing with my hair. When he was a toddler and in speech therapy, we had to monitor how many words he was speaking. I recall being overjoyed when he made this request at Walmart: "Mommy, I want to play with your hair." Eight words, I happily reported to the speech therapist. Now, two or so years later, he sees Mommy's hair as a gift from Jesus.

Said child is now sneaking downstairs for the third time since I put him to bed 37 minutes ago.

Thank you, Jesus, for this child.

Gotta love it. . .

Tonight as I tucked in my oldest son, I said, "Good night, handsome." He replied, "Good night, pretty woman."
Be still my heart.

A fight to the death?

Tonight, Daddy and the two middle boys were sitting on the family room floor, facing each other, with several plastic dinosaurs between them. After watching them gear up for their activity, I ventured to ask my husband what exactly they were going to play. He replied, "Each boy is going to pick a dinosaur, the dinosaurs are going to fight, and whoever doesn't drop their dinosaur is the winner."

If you haven't met my boys, this kind of a game is a little window into their souls. . . On the up side, the only person to get injured during this spirited game was my husband. Miraculously, the boys survived with little damage.



We got away this weekend, my husband and I, sans children. It was heaven - lounging on the beach, sampling (many!) different wines at some of the local wineries, eating dinner at 10:00 (that's PM, people!). It was hard to come back, although I think the grandparents were ready for a little vacation of their own after a busy weekend with our four kids!

Say again?

The other day, as we were driving home from school, my daughter and oldest son were jabbering away in the backseat about a wild animal. I heard my son say something along the lines of: "He has to be careful - that animal is his creditor". Though their methods of taking care of business are sometimes eerily similar, I explained that animals actually have predators, not creditors.

Things that make you go hhmm. . .

Says the boy, "Is Daddy Jesus?"

Good-bye, Beijing!

Last night, we bade a fond farewell to the 2008 Olympic Games. We all enjoyed watching the athletes compete over the last two weeks. The kids especially enjoyed watching Thomas Finchum dive. His father teaches at Lutheran High of Indianapolis and they really felt connected to him. Our four year old, in fact, no longer wants to be a pastor when he grows up. Now he wants to be a diver. I recall similar aspirations in the 84(?) Olympics. I was sure (though I wasn't much of an athlete), that I would be the next Mary Lou Retton. Somehow, that's not exactly how my life turned out. . .!

In other news, my two middle boys (known for sword fighting, kung fu fighting, fist fighting, and the list goes on), wanted to take a bath tonight "just for fun". They wanted to wear their swimsuits, but I, being the kiljoy that I am, nixed that (who needs more laundry?). In a weak moment, post-dinner, I allowed this. After clearing the dishes, I headed upstairs to wash them and take an inventory of the situation. I entered the bathroom to be greeted by two naked boys standing (that's a no-no!) in the tub, squirting water on each other and the entire bathroom in general. After I cleaned the ceiling of dripping water, and a flood behind the toilet, I prepared to get the littlest boy into the tub. All this water inspired him to add some of his own fluid to the floor next to the tub. Ah, well. I suppose the floor was due for a scrub anyway.

Sigh. My intentions were good, but I can't seem to stick to blogging! If only there was some sort of award for people who mean to do something, but never get around to it. . . I would medal in that for sure (if I ever made it to the event without getting sidetracked).

Today was the first day of school, and the house was so quiet. With only one at home ALL DAY, I hardly knew what to do. I accomplished much, some of which was just having time alone with my youngest. We both loved the time together.

We ate at a buffet tonight (summer reading program free passes!), and my oldest son said, "This dinner is like the best meal of my life!". There's something so alluring about the ability to go back for seconds and thirds (and fourths!).

I'd like to say I'll be better about writing (although I'm not sure who reads this - Dad, are you out there?), but I don't want to make any rash promises.