Some Early Christmas Shopping?

I like to be finished with my Christmas shopping by now, but this year, I'm not. Not even close. Which really stinks. I don't want to be anywhere near a store that sells anything other than food this time of year, but it looks like I'm out of luck.

To help you out a little, I have a couple of ideas for things the kids on your list might like.

First, the K'NEX 400 Pieces Tub. With 400 pieces, there are lots of parts so that kids can build as much as their imaginations can come up with. If your kid needs a jump-start (400 pieces can be a little overwhelming!) an instruction book is included that contains building ideas for 20 different models. You can also visit http://www.knex.com/ for step-by-step instructions, just in case the instruction book gets lost. With three kids, lots of stuff gets lost around here, so that's a great bonus.

But what's so great is that kids don't need the instruction book. They can just build and tear down and add and remove until they're satisfied with their masterpiece. Once the building is complete the play continues, since there are lots of moving parts, like wheels on the cars, the propeller for the airplane, and merry-go-rounds and ferris wheels that spin.

K'NEX works with other brands of building toys, like Lego, so you don't have to worry about parts not fitting together. You'll just be adding on to your child's existing collection, instead of starting from scratch building a new one.

And, perhaps the best feature (to a mom; not to a kid) is that the storage tub is included, so clean-up is fast and easy.

Since K'NEX toys are made in the U.S.A., you can be proud to buy them for your kids this Christmas. They retail for about $20.99 at Target, Wal-Mart and Toys "R" Us.

This season, K'Nex is giving families the chance to win $1,000.00 worth of K'NEX Building Sets! All you have to do is make a video that showcases your child's K'NEX building skills and features them building with select K'NEX products. Visit http://www.knex.com/ for official rules, but hurry! The deadline to submit a video is December 7, 2009.

Something else I'd like to share with you is the Sesame Street Neighborhood Collection building set. Kids can build their own Sesame Street neighborhood and then play with Elmo, Cookie Monster, and Ernie, depending on which set they get.

There are four sets that are designed to coordinate with each other, but each set is complete and can be enjoyed alone.

We tried out the Ice Cream Truck building set.

It comes with a buildable Elmo dressed as an ice cream man. The Police Car building set comes with a buildable Elmo dressed as a police officer. There is also a 1-2-3 Brownstone building set and a Police Station set.

The parts are chunky and big enough for small hands to easily play with. This is something that Cullen loves to play with, but even Cavan likes holding (and chewing on!) the big colorful pieces.

And just like other K'NEX toys, there are lots of parts so kids can build and rebuild over and over again. And again, additional building ideas are included.

We're working on color and shape recognition with Cullen right now, and these sets really help to teach that in a fun way. He loves to build (and destroy) things, and his K'NEX sets are toys he pulls out often.

The prices start at $9.99 for the set we received, and are available at Target, Wal-Mart and Toys"R"Us.

Thanks to Team Mom for providing the toys for this review. Cullen and Christian love them!

A Little Eye Candy for the 'Rents

These were taken about a week ago. If I had taken them the last few days, nobody would want to see them. Not that anybody wants to see these, either, but the last few days have been filled with... sickness. Sickness that nobody should see. Or clean up. Ugh.

This was just after I gave Chubs a bath. He's so soft and squishy and yummy and sweet-smelling after a bath.

Yummy baby feetsies.

If he didn't eat them, I would.
He sat up unassisted for the first time last Wednesday! I'll admit, he doesn't look at all chubby here.
Cullen loves to "help" when I feed Chubs.
Chubs isn't quite as appreciative. Probably because Cullen jabs the spoon in, whether or not Cavan has his mouth open. He shoves the spoon in so far, Chubs really doesn't even need to swallow.
Such a seepy ittle bitty baby.

He sucks his thumb exactly the same way Christian used to; she'd hang her index finger on the bridge of her nose. Christian sucks her left thumb; Cullen sucks his right thumb; Chubs sucks whichever one tastes the best at any given moment.
Who thinks Cavan's going to hate me for these someday?

At least his goods were covered.

Not Again

Two sick little boys.

Apparently, God wants me to clean bodily fluids until I stop saying ugly words as I do it, because He's giving me lots of opportunities to do it.

Isn't the Sound of Your Childrens' Voices...

Supposed to be like the sound of angels singing?

Does it ever make you want to shove rusty knitting needles into your eardrums?

No?

Is it just me?

Rock Stars and Cowboys and Indians... Oh My!

Of course, she had to be Hannah Montana for Halloween.

I found the shirt, belt, fingerless gloves, and leg warmers at the mall; I loathe the mall. I made the skirt, so ignore the hideousness of it. The wig was a "for-no-reason" gift from my stepmom several months ago, on the occasion of Christian spending the night over there and begging a trip to the Wal-Mart(s). Her pink Converse (at the time this photo was taken were muddy in the garage) I bought at Target. The leggings she already had.

She was lucky; she got to wear her costume three times this week. Thursday was "Dress Like a Rock Star" day at school, Friday was a party at my aunt's house, and Saturday was Halloween.

Cullen is a pain in the a$$ a little touchy about costumes, so we just put him in his cowboy clothes, down to little spurs, which he loves, and refers to as "spurts." He loved getting his make-up done, which tickled Hubs to no end.

Cavan was a fat little indian. I made the headdress Friday night. His costume was borrowed from my SIL, whose oldest wore it for his first Halloween. I'm guessing her mom made it? It was pretty cute. Unfortunately, Cavan's "warpaint" is long-wearing, and ghostly traces of it are still visible today.

We trick-or-treat each year by way of a hay ride, courtesy of our neighbors. It is the way to do trick-or-treating, let me tell you. First, we head to our HOA for free hot dogs, nachos and drinks, a few brave souls go through the haunted house, then we're off for all the candy the kids can get.

Cullen picked up trick-or-treating really fast!

By the end of the night, as the unsuspecting homeowner was dropping candy in his bucket, he was reaching into their candy bowl for more!

We had so much fun. I think everybody did. And we were trend-setters, apparently. Last year we were the only hay ride through the neighborhood, but this year there were quite a few. That's okay, though. We're the OHR*.

I love this picture. He looks very Eastwood, eh? Tough little cowboy with a sticky (grass-covered, from his fall off the sidewalk) lollipop.

This house pulled out all the stops. Christian stopped for a picture; my neighbor's daughter, a.k.a. the "Cheerless Cheerleader," is wondering what the heck possessed Christian to slow down in the candy-getting festivities.

And then there was the obligatory Grumpy Old Man. The kids were gathered on the porch, waiting for someone to open the door, when GOM came out of the garage, waving his arms and yelling at the kids:

"Get out of here! Quit ringing my doorbell! We don't have any candy! Don't you see the lights are off??? (The porch light was, but his entire walkway was illuminated with solar lights, and both front windows were illuminated by the lights inside the house. The garage door was open, and the lights were on in there, too. It looked fairly inviting.) Go somewhere else!" he grouched.

Jerk. We should have gone back later with a Halloween gift for him.

Not that I do that sort of thing.

Anymore.

This little lion was about the cutest thing in fur I've seen. He belongs to my neighbors. Actually, he belongs on the Gerber label. My neighbor's nose is also in there. That's the only picture I'm going to post of her, for fear of her Facebook page, and retribution. Yes, I'm a coward. I freely admit it. Get an awful picture dirt on me, and all your secrets are forever safe.

One final picture of my skinny little lollipop-lovin' cowboy, with his spurts.

*Original Hay Ride

The Sweetest Little Girl in the Whole Wide World

Monday was a teacher inservice day, so the kids got a day off. I was doing laundry when Christian brought up (again!) her allowance... or lack thereof.

Hubs and I don't believe in just handing out money. If the kids want money, we believe they should earn it. There is a prevailing entitlement issue in this country today, and we'd like to do our part in breaking it.

She asked if she could mop the floor for an allowance. "Mop," meaning to wet-swiffer it after I sweep.

I told her that Hubs and I would discuss it. I mentioned that there are some things she would be expected to do, as a contributing member of this family, regardless of an allowance.

She clarified, "You mean like cleaning my room? And putting my dishes in the sink?"

"That's right," I said.

As she was mopping, she began to grumble, "I don't like cleaning my room."

I responded (as I was conquering the mountain of clean laundry) that I didn't like folding clothes, or washing them, or ironing them, or putting them away, or wiping counters, or doing dishes, or changing diapers, or putting away clutter, but that I was expected to do those things... without compensation.

She kind of giggled at that. "Mom, you're a grown-up. Grown-ups don't get paid for that stuff."

I said, "That's right. We don't. We have to do lots of things we don't like to do, and we don't get paid for it. We do it because it has to be done."

She thought for a minute, and put the swiffer down and walked over to me.

She pulled change out of her pocket; change that she had found earlier, and asked if she could keep. She counted it out; it came to fourteen cents.

She took my hand, and put the change in my palm.

"I know it's not much, Mom, but I want you to have it."

Tears filled my eyes.

Tears, for this sweetest of girls.

I hugged her tightly, and told her how much I love her, how thankful I am for her, and what a sweet, thoughtful person she is.

Today, that money found its way back to her piggy bank.

Kobe Bryant/Lakers Cake

Today I delivered a cake to a church reception hall. It was a groom's cake, and is the very first wedding cake I have agreed to do.

I'm not sure if I'll agree to do another!

I get sooooooo freaked out, and stress so much over whether or not they'll like it, and I worry that some cake-related tragedy will occur on or immediately before the Big Day. It makes me want to crawl under the table and suck my thumb. But since I already have three thumb-suckers, I usually don't do that.

On the way to the hall, my palms started to sweat, and my heart was skipping beats. Hubs was yammering on and on about something, but I couldn't think of anything except that newborn baby riding in the back with no seat belt, its little soft spots vulnerable to bumps. The newborn baby that was my cake, that is.

The bride, if you remember, is the nurse who assisted my doc in the OR the day I had my surgery. Which is not embarrassing or uncomfortable at all, given the fact that she's seen my nether regions. Or not.

She told me that her groom loves the Lakers, Kobe Bryant in particular, and asked if I could do something paying homage to his favorite team. She wanted a fun, non-traditional cake. She e-mailed me a few pictures of his loves: his bride, of course, his dog, his new truck, and his DC hat. So this is what I came up with:

Kobe Bryant was sweet enough to autograph a basketball and jersey for me.

He also quite graciously gave me two courtside tickets for Tuesday night's game against the Clippers. At $1200 each, I'd say that's a pretty nice addition to the cake, eh? You can see today's date on the ticket. Pretty sweet that he ordered them on the day of their wedding, huh?

Or maybe I just made a couple of tickets on the computer and printed them with edible ink on edible paper. Maybe I just made and signed the basketball and jersey myself, too.

Anyway, here's the groom's hat and beverage of choice done in sugar. The bottle is poured sugar (my first attempt at sugar work) and the label is an edible image.

And what sporting event is complete without buttery popcorn? Hubs saw some of this drying on the counter one morning, and wasn't sure if it was real or not. He said he was confused because he didn't smell popcorn, but it looked so real he had to ask. FYI, it doesn't taste like popcorn. Just to the left of the popcorn is a picture of the groom's dog on a keychain, with a key to his new Ford truck. All edible, of course.

This cake was GIGANTIC. It was two (three layers each) fourteen inch squares, stacked one on top of the other. Which means there are six fourteen inch layers behind that fondant. They're rich chocolate cake, filled and iced with chocolate ganache. I swear I've gained weight from just breathing the wicked chocolate overload aroma in my house this week.

The mother-of-the-bride came to look at the cake before I left.

Y'all.

She cried.

Which made me cry.

But oh, so happy!

T-Rex Cake

Remember this cake?

Well... the same nurse who ordered that cake asked me to make a T-Rex cake for her son's fourth birthday. She wanted a 3-D T-Rex. I told her I couldn't do it. So then she asked if I could do a 3-D T-Rex head, since her son really loves them, and loves the scary teeth. I said probably not. I really had no idea what to do or where to begin.

So I told her I would do a prehistoric landscape cake, and model a sugar figure of a T-Rex. She said that was fine, and that as long as there was a T-Rex on it, her son would be happy.

Here it is.

Obviously it's not a landscape. Do you think she'll notice?

The head was a 9x13 pan of rice krispy treats. I cut it down and went after it with a knife. The body is cake, and the arms are solid chocolate.

This is my first cake entirely decorated with my airbrush, and it was such a blast! I think this is the tallest cake I've ever done. It's right at sixteen inches.

I put six layers of different colors, some mixed together, to get him to look this way. Then I hand-painted his eyes and his claws. The claws just looked too clean!

Gimme a kiss!

NASCAR Cake

My neighbor's husband (also my neighbor, FYI) had a birthday in mid-August. She asked if I would make his favorite NASCAR driver, Kasey Kahne, out of sugar, standing next to her husband. She wanted them both standing in front of Kasey's car, which would be chocolate cake.

I nervously agreed... what was I thinking???

The day approached, and I got to baking. I got the cake baked and filled and carved and iced... and she called asking if it could be frozen, since she was suffering unbelieveable pain, and her husband was taking her to the ER. She had a rather large kidney stone, and ended up having surgery and staying in the hospital for a few days. Needless to say, the party was postponed.

So after she got better, she called to re-schedule, except it was my turn for surgery.

After I got better, we all got the flu.

Once sickness and disease had been eradicated from our side of the street, we re-settled on a new date for the party.

But nobody could come, since it was opening weekend of dove season and hello? Priorities!

To make a long story longer, the party was this past weekend, and was tons of fun.

And here's the finished cake:

Like I said, the car was chocolate cake, with chocolate ganache, and strawberry puree. It was sooooo good! Especially if you're a chocoholic. Which I am. Which you can probably tell just by looking at me.

But whatever.

His wife doesn't like chocolate cake, so I made another cake for the car to sit on. It was white almond sour cream and strawberry swirl. Also yummy.

I don't know if you can tell, but I actually cut away the fondant to reveal inset windows, just to make it a little more realistic, not that this cake is even in the realm of realistic. So I guess I did it just to make more work and frustration for myself.

I'm good at that. Making more work and frustration for myself, I mean; not making NASCAR cakes. Just in case I wasn't clear on that.

But the windows (and tires and inset grill) were all solid chocolate, so it wasn't just for show.

I was quite excited to get to try out the new toy Hubs got for my birthday... an airbrush! We were both amazed at the difference it made. I airbrushed red on top of the red fondant, and it really gave it a depth it didn't have with just fondant alone. I also airbrushed some black details on the car, and the black cake underneath. Seriously, who wants to eat solid black icing? Not me, so I thought airbrushing the outer layer would help cut down on the black teeth at the party.

They didn't want to cut it, so they made me do it. I asked where they wanted me to start, and they said to start at the front. As soon as the front of the car was gone, my neighbor's husband yelled, "Kasey's hit the wall!" Unfortunately, that's exactly what happened the next day.

Kasey was doing pretty well in Sunday's race (I am not a NASCAR fan, but was secretly rooting for him after having spent more hours than I care to count re-creating him and his car out of sugar!) but it was all over but the crying when he went head-first into the wall.

But dang, his car tasted good.

And, really, that's all that matters. Right?

Thankful Thursday

There are many things for which I am thankful today.

This face, and the smell of the head he's grabbing, are two of them.

Ask Christian any time, any where, what my most favorite smell in the whole wide world is, and she'll groan and say, "My heaaaaad."

It's true. When I spent a week in Chicago two years ago (has it really been that long?) and then a few days in Nashville, the first thing I did when I got back was smell my babies' heads.

Yankee Candle Company could make a fortune if they could just capture that smell. Assuming they capture the smell before the kids go outside. After that, they just smell like little puppies.

I'm also thankful for this face:

And for little boys who tee-tee on the potty. As long as they get it in the potty. Because I'm not so thankful when they miss.

FYI, Hubs was the one who intruded on his private time. Although he deserved it. Whenever I would like a little privacy in the bathroom, Cullen barges on in saying, "You need piracy, Mama? You need piracy?" And then proceeds to shut the door, sit down on the floor and talk to me.

Aunt Kelsey? Aunt Kelsey's private time is very soon coming to an end. Just sayin'.

Chubs decided he needed to break-in one of Harrison Walker's new toys at Kelsey's baby shower last weekend.

And I'm thankful that Chubs has aunts and uncles who think he's as precious as we do. Because I think that's precious.

I'm thankful that my kids get to spend time with their Papaw and Uncle. And that they have the opportunity to take a "Three Generations" picture. We'll have to put little Harrison Walker in there soon.

I'm thankful that I have the time to make cakes for the people I love. This was for Kelsey's baby shower.

I'm also thankful that God has granted me a teeny tiny amount of ability to make useless gifts like these:

It's a diaper cake. Which is kind of ironic, considering a diaper is where cake would end up.

So I guess it's kind of like the circle of life.

Mmmmm... smells good!

Last night Hubs had to head out of town, so I was on my own with the three maniacs.

Just after he left, I decided to wash the few dishes that were in the sink. I picked up a super-sharp knife I had used earlier to slice cheese for cheese and crackers as an afternoon snack for Thing 1 and Thing 2. And sliced my finger open.

I said a few naughty words as blood came pouring out. I had visions of a late night in the ER dancing in my head. I rinsed it under hot water and started wrapping paper towels around it. With a few minutes of pressure the bleeding stopped, so I continued washing dishes... after I bandaged it, of course.

One was a pan full of caramelized sugar. I've been working on some details for an upcoming cake, and didn't need as much cooked sugar as I had.

So I filled the pan with hot water and set it on the stove to melt away. I washed the last few things and went to catch up on some computer graphics I've been playing around with.

A few minutes later, Christian came to let me know the hallway was full of smoke.

I freaked out.

"What??? Why is the hallway full of smoke???" I asked her.

She said she didn't know, but that the kitchen, living room and dining room were smokey, too.

I jumped up and ran into the kitchen. I realized that I had left the pan boiling on the stove. All the water had boiled away, and the sugar that was left was now a charred, black, bubbled mess. It was disgusting.

I grabbed the pan and ran out the front door, then ran around the house opening doors and windows and turning on fans.

It was quite the aroma, let me tell you.

And the pan! It was a Pampered Chef Professional series. I was pretty sure it was garbage, but I tried to salvage it... by putting more hot water in and setting it on the stove.

This time, I didn't leave it. Each time it boiled, I would empty it out, scrub the bottom a little, and put more boiling water in. Eventually, it all came out.

I know.

This morning, The Smell was still with us.

I have spent the greater part of the day wiping, scrubbing, spraying and disinfecting every hard surface in the house, and Febreeze-ing all the soft surfaces. I have used Lysol, Febreeze spray, Febreeze Wet Swiffers, some frou-frou counter spray (citrus mint ylang-ylang, if you're interested; smells un-bee-leev-a-bul), frou-frou stainless steel spray, six candles (four scents), and even a new air vent air freshener.

I think The Smell has been eradicated.

Some friends came over this afternoon, and the first thing they said was how yummy the house smells. When Christian got hom from school, she also said it smelled good.

The Smell.

It must be lodged in my nasal cavity, because it still lingers.

Yummy.

Something to Call His Own

A couple weeks ago I got an e-mail from a friend. She said she was sending me something in the mail.

Quite honestly, I expected a coupon for diapers, or maybe a picture of a cake she'd seen.

A puffy package arrived a few days later, and I was blown away:

It's a set of burp cloths and car seat strap covers for Chubs!

Cavan hasn't really had much to call his very own. Just about everything he owns has been hand-me-downs from his brother and cousins. Don't feel badly for him; the kid has plenty.

But this! This is brand-spanking-new, and made just for him!

She did an amazing job, and I am quite impressed. The car seat strap covers are reversible, so they can either be saddle-bronc riding cowboys on a blue ground, or cow print. They're cushy and soft, and delicate on his chubby little cheekies. She wrapped them up so cute, with a little ribbon and a baby linking ring that matched the prints. I'm a sucker for pretty packaging.

I really love these burp cloths. My babies are quite prolific spitter-uppers, and we seem to go through several cloths a day. It's nice to have something other than plain white ones. Assuming ours are white. Which they were. Seven years ago. But whatever.

I do believe I'd like a quilt made out of these fabrics.

If you're in need of special, custom, one-of-a-kind burp cloths, car seat strap covers or quilts, check out her etsy shop. I promise you won't be disappointed!

Thank you so much, Tracy! We LOVE them!

The Sickness; It Is Still With Us

I got it ten days ago; I'm still tired and coughing up crud.

Christian got it seven days ago; she was better by the next day.

Chubs got a fever (his was actually a cold) five days ago; he's still cranky. He's coughing and sneezing a lot, too.

Hubs and Cullen got it Sunday. Cullen was better by Monday; Hubs is still walking around acting like he's the sickest human ever to walk the planet. Nobody has ever felt this bad.

But then, he's a man.

The House Where All The Sickness Lives

Today is my fourth straight day with fever. Or, as Cullen calls it, feeber. "My feeber hurts, Momma. My feeber hurts. I sick, too."

Sunday night I was brushing out a Hannah Montana wig (yep. she has one. my stepmother bought it for her last weekend.) when my chest starting hurting and filling with gunk. I felt like I was having an allergic reaction, and thought I was allergic to the synthetic wig. My throat was starting to get scratchy,too.

Early the next morning, I couldn't get warm, no matter how many layers I put on or how many blankets I covered up with. So I checked, and of course had fever. By this time my throat was on fire, and I was coughing. A lot.

That afternoon I went to the doctor. I had to get better immediately, since Hubs was going to be out of town for the next three days (of course! and happy to be gone, I'm sure) and I would be on my own with our three delinquents.

I tried talking her out of it, being the whiney-baby sissy-face that I am, but the nurse insisted on shoving a q-tip up my nose to check for flu. Wow. Was that ever fun.

It came back negative.

They gave me a shot (which the doc said, and I quote, "I'm not going to lie to you. It's gonna hurt.") and a prescription for a z-pack.

I haven't left my bed all week, except to get hot tea and food. Wait. I have showered, too. Just in case you were wondering.

My mil has been here, taking care of all of us. She's done her best to chase the kids out of my room each time they've wandered in.

Miraculously, the boys haven't gotten sick.

Christian, on the other hand, woke up with 102.6 fever and a nasty cough super early this morning. Her test came back negative, too, but her pediatrician is treating her for flu. If it walks like a duck and sounds like a duck...

He says those oh-so-pleasant nasal swabs give a false negative about 30% of the time.

I guess all the breast-feeding is really working this time. Chubs has gotten all my immunities.

But he didn't get a bite of mil's hamburger earlier today when she had the nerve to eat in front of him and not offer him some. Or, you know, the whole thing.

He looked like he was about to whoop her for it, though.

Do you remember the show Dinosaurs? From the 90's?

There was an episode in which one of them got sick and we got a look into their biochemistry. We saw germs having a party inside their body, dancing, singing, drinking fancy cocktails with umbrellas.

Well, the dinosaur doctor prescribed some glowing blue liquid. The dinosaur drank it, and immediately we were transported inside their body to see the germs eradicated.

Only, they weren't eradicated.

The party was full of dancing germs, holding martini glasses full of the glowing blue liquid. Suddenly, the germs stopped. Surely they were going to die, right?

Wrong.

The germs divided, and instantly became two germs drinking cocktails of the glowing blue liquid.

Which is exactly what I believe has gone on inside my body this week.

"The Procedure" Results Are In

As you can probably imagine, I have been so unbelievably down lately. All I've been able to think about is no more babies, ever. And that maybe I wouldn't even be around to see my own babies grow up. I have definitely been depressed, that's for sure. The last few weeks I've been scared, and angry every now and then, at the thought of my own plans being crushed. Each time I'd start to think, "What if..." I'd have to cast down vain imaginations and bring my thoughts into captivity. Then confess healing. And then try to deal with Cullen's shenanigans.

Last night I went to the grocery store alone, and on the way home, all I wanted to do was sing praise and worship songs at the top of my lungs; the deep songs that really move you. I had to force myself to keep my hands on the wheel instead of lifted, and to keep my eyes open on the road. I drove slowly to prolong my time in the car, and I felt like I was at some kind of turning point. I can't say I had peace, but I knew that whatever God's plan was, I'd be able to accept. I just kept thanking Him for the blessings He's given to me, and the beautiful, sweet babies He's given me. We're not going to be the next Duggar's, but we want another baby or two... someday.

I have a gadget on my sidebar that rotates a different Scripture each day. The other night I was up late and noticed it:

Isaiah 46:4Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.

I was so shocked at seeing it. I prayed for healing and went to bed. Yesterday, it was still on my blog. So I checked it several times, just to re-read that verse. The only thing I can guess is that I saw it for the first time after midnight, and so it was still there all day yesterday.

My doctor's nurse called today with the pathology reports from last week's surgery...

THEY GOT IT ALL AND THERE WILL BE NO HYSTERECTOMY FOR ME!!!!!!

HALLELUJAH!!!

Of course we are so relieved, overjoyed, and thankful that God has chosen to heal me. Actually, that's just the tip of what we're feeling today. I called Hubs to tell him, and it was all I could do to keep from weeping. I've done enough of that lately, so I just laughed hysterically.

I have to go back every three months for the next two years for checkups, but I'm expecting great news at each visit.

Thank you all for praying for me.

I have no idea why God allowed me to go through this, only to be completely healed, or why He allowed Chubs to be hurt at birth and face a devastating and permanent condition, only to be completely healed, or why He allowed Cullen to face Down's Syndrome in utero, only to be born completely healthy.

I have no idea. Why has He chosen me and my family to face tribulation and fear time and time and time again, and bring us through it whole and strong? Why has he called others home to Him instead of healing their disease?

I have no idea.

Maybe so that we might learn to trust Him? Maybe to grow our faith? Maybe to strengthen our family bond? Maybe so that others might see and believe?

It doesn't matter to me why this is what He has chosen for me. He was with me in the Valley of Death's Shadow, and now I'm lying down in green pastures.

I'm just so thankful to be here.

Have You Forgotten?

I was three months pregnant with Christian and Hubs was in Washington (state).

I was having a lot of early pregnancy pain, and me being the whiny-baby-sissy-face that I am, went into work late that morning. I had spent the night at my brother and sil's house, not wanting to be alone with Hubs gone.

It was my habit to watch Good Morning America, since I had just quit my job anchoring the morning news at the local ABC affiliate, and GMA always followed my local news.

I remember eating breakfast in their dining room, and watching the smoke from the first plane rising from the tower. I called out to my brother and sil to tell them something had happened at the World Trade Center, but it was all speculation at that point. Then the next plane flew across the sky. I watched, still not really believing what I was seeing, until both towers fell.

It was so eerie to me that day, that people were still going to the grocery store and the mall, still running errands, still going to work, still going to school. It felt like life should have stopped that day, so that we could be with those trapped in a living hell, if only in spirit. It felt like we should have spent that day on our knees, interceding for survivors and families of those lost.

I know God wasn't surprised on 9/11. I know He didn't have to go to "Plan B."

I don't know why some were spared while others perished. I doubt any of us will ever know or understand while on this side of eternity.

I do know that He has a plan for us, and that plan is to prosper us and not to harm us; plans to give us a hope and a future, according to Jeremiah 29:11.

I'm sure every American remembers where they were and what they were doing that day. Just like my parents remember where they were when Elvis, JFK and John Lennon died.

I think it's something that will stick with us for the rest of our lives.

And I think it should.

The Meltdown Came Shortly After

Alternatively Titled: Angelic-Looking Two-Year Old For Sale on E-Bay My Day; A Recap

I was happily dreaming about what chocolate dessert I wanted to order (seriously. I could see them all, and I wanted them all) from some restaurant I've never been to, when I heard a noise that wasn't restauranty.


It's a word. Trust me.


Anyway, I slowly came awake, only to realize both boys were crying. Grumpily I looked at my bedside clock: 9:45 (I know!). I jumped out of bed and ran maniacally around the house gathering breakfast for Cullen and me, and all my nursing paraphernalia for Chubs.


I went into their room and picked up a snotty, blubbering Cullen. Immediately I felt that his diaper had failed overnight. His clothes, bedding and ganket were soaked. I stripped him down and ran warm water for a bath. Washing him took less than a minute, so I tried to get him out, but he had become fascinated by some new tub toys and wanted to stay in.

I let him, and went to get Gigantor. After I changed his diaper we settled in together for breakfast. Soon after, my SIL called to let me know she didn't feel like working today was home with a sick boy and we got to talking. During a pause in the conversation, I noticed strange sounds coming from the bathroom. It almost sounded like empty bottles being squirted into the tub, but that could not be, since the bottles of shampoo and conditioner were full.

Apparently, he decided he needed bubbles. In his mind, the best way to achieve that is to empty a bottle of shampoo and a bottle of conditioner into your bath. Great.

I got him out, dried him off, and got him dressed. Then I went to pick up Fatty McButterpants, who was quite offended that he had been put down, and was not shy about letting me know.

After I calmed him down, I realized the house was too quiet, so I went to check on Cullen. He was in Christian's room, gleefully spreading the money from her piggy bank around the floor. Ugh. I told him to put every coin back. We went through this exact scenario about a month ago, so I thought it was a job he could handle.

I headed for the ringing phone, and left him to his task. After I hung up, I went back to see his progress. There was quite a bit, actually. See, he had found a bag full of crap magnetic letters, numbers, animals and vehicles, and decided to throw them around her bed like he was throwing beads at Mardi Gras.

Deep breaths. Serenity now.

Once again, I instructed him to clean up. And once again, I headed off to take care of the myriad other things I had to do, i.e. change Rascall Fatts.

Upon next check-up, I discovered that he had moved on to bigger and better things: her closet. He had pulled books from the shelves, pulled down all the games and cards, and spread them over the remaining visible carpet in her room. The carpet that I had spent Monday morning vacuuming and steam cleaning, but I digress. By this time, I gave up trying to get him to clean it up. It just wasn't worth it.

He wanted to watch Caillou, so I put it on for him.

I was cleaning the kitchen when, once again, I realized the house was very quiet. I headed to his room, but instead found him on the floor in his bathroom, spraying Windex on everything, and wiping it up with toilet paper. "I cleanin,' Mama!" He proudly told me. His underwear was actually blue, and soaked with the spray. So, I grabbed him up, wiped him down, and called the number on the bottle. The lovely people at S.C. Johson assured me that Windex is 80% water, plus a little alcohol, and as long as he wasn't acting drunk, he'd be okay. I thanked them, hung up, and called Poison Control, since the idiots at S.C. Johnson clearly had no clue what they were talking about. The Poison Control people told me the same thing, and said to give him a sugary snack or drink.

I got a cold root beer out of the fridge and sat him on the couch to watch "A Goofy Movie." He was sooo excited! A whole root beer, in the can, all to himself. He took a sip, and then poured it all over the cushion.

Are you freaking kidding me???

I changed his underwear (for what, the 17th time today?) and sent him to his room.

It was noon.

Weird Google Searches

Sometimes it's interesting to find out what people are searching for when they land on here. A lot of people find me through cake searches. And others... well... their searches are just disturbing.

Like the following:

"Penis fell out of swimsuit"

Ummmm... okaaaaaaay... don't really know what to tell you. Maybe see an urologist? But I'd definitely get that checked out.

"Boy butt spankings in tv westerns"

Huh.

Well.

[Head tilt] Huh.

Wow.

I've got nothing.

And then:

"When I'm sad my hands hurt"

Awww. Bless your heart.

Labor Day Meme

I think I did this last year, but since I've added another baby to the mix, I've updated it.

How long were your labors?
Kid #1: 14 hours
Kid #2: 6 hours
Kid #3: 6 hours (ish)

How did you know you were in labor?
Kid #1: water broke
Kid #2: mind-numbing contractions that came out of nowhere and sent me to my knees.
Kid #3, water broke

Since we're on the subject, it always annoys me when on TV or in movies the mom's water breaks, and you don't see or hear anything. With both of mine, it was like Niagara Falls.

Where did you deliver?
All of them were born at a hospital. I hate hospitals, so with #3 I briefly considered home birth, but then came to my senses when I realized the anesthesiologist would not come to my home to give me an epidural. Considering that one weighed 10 pounds at birth, I think I made the right choice.

Drugs?
Oh, Sweet Wonderful Jesus, yes. When I was about four months pregnant with #1, my doctor began a conversation this way: “I don’t know what kind of birth experience you’re planning--"

I then interrupted with: “Drugs. Lots and lots and lots of drugs.”

He chuckled and asked if he should alert the pharmacy now.

I told him it might be a good idea to begin stocking up.

Weight/Length?
Kid #1: 9 pounds, 4 ounces, 21 inches
Kid #2: 8 pounds, 10 ounces, 20 1/2 inches
Kid #3: 10 pounds, .02 ounces, 21 inches

After switching to my new (current) OB, I remember telling him (while pregnant with #2) that I was worried about needing a C-section. He looked at #1's stats and said he didn't think there would be a problem.

C-section?
Not with any of them. Please see the birth weight of number three again. And then send me flowers. Or something from Tiffany's.

Who delivered?
With #1, my water broke at 5:00 am. I showered and put on a little make-up, and we got to the hospital around 6. My doctor had just finished a 24 hour shift. Baby Christian was helped into the world with the on-call doctor. Who later, I’m told, stopped delivering babies because his eyesight deteriorated. I hope it wasn’t something I did. Seriously, that's not good for my morale, people.

In the middle of pregnancy #2, my doctor announced (actually, his nurse announced) that he was no longer delivering babies. Well. I had to find a new one, quickly. We went to several (and asked every mother we knew about her experiences with her doc) before deciding on the most awesome OB ever. He delivered #2 and #3. #3 was helped out with the vacuum. I'll say it again: TEN POUNDS.

Happy Labor Day!