The Writing on the Wall

"They" have told me time and again how fast it goes. I haven't believed them. Because usually it's on a day when I'm overwhelmed, sleep deprived, exhausted, frustrated, impatient or downright delirious...sometimes all of the above. "They" are those moms who've been there. And to them it's all a vapor now. They say "enjoy it"...."it goes too fast"...."believe it or not you'll look back and wish for these days again...".

I've found it hard to believe.

But slowly I'm seeing that it's true.

This one starts school in August. I wish I could push "pause" and make it all last just a little longer. Every time he curls up in my lap with those long gangly legs and stinky big boy feet wrapped around me I wonder how much longer he will want to....how much longer 'til it's not cool any more. So I gather him up in my lap the best I can and thank the Lord for every moment.

For as long as it lasts....

Scrubbin' Bubbles

Bobbing for Toilet Paper

I've said it before but I'm really starting to mean it....if Stuart had been number one, there wouldn't have been numbers two or three. Probably. More than likely. I've also said before that he is the sweetest baby of the three...the most loving....the most snuggly....but he's also the most unpredictable. And not in a good way.

We've had a dog the entire time we've had children. Which means we've had a dog dish with food and water within reach of all children at all times. No one else has ever bothered Poopsie's cuisine beyond the initial curiosity. And then along came Stuart. He ate Kibbles-n-bits before he ate Cheerios. He has dipped his hands/feet/elbows/head in the water dish and laid down in front of it to slurp. He's dumped it upside down and sloshed around in it. He's dumped his blueberries and strawberries into it, creating a nice fruit flavored spritzer for Poopsie to enjoy on a hot day. He's very creative. And thoughtful.

He's also fascinated with toothbrushes. If you can't find your toothbrush around here, chances are Stuart found it first. And there is a real possibility that said toothbrush took a swim in Poopsie's water dish. Or the toilet. The other source of Stuart's amusement.

The other day he was running around the house laughing with a wet head. We knew he had not just been bathed so we naturally checked the dog dish. But all was dry. So we followed him as he took off down the hall laughing, ran straight into the bathroom, dipped his head in the bowl, flung it out sending a shower of (I pray only) water around the bathroom, and darted off to run in circles laughing hysterically.

Not sure I'll survive the "terrible twos" take three....

I'm Finished Now!

It's been a while since there's been any potty talk so here goes....

I'm trying to figure out at what point should my children be potty independent? As in....they no longer feel the need to announce what they are about to do and then sit there after they've done said deed and holler at the top of their lungs over and over..."I'm finished now!!!" And wait for me to come running and complete the job for them?

Not too long ago as one of them...I won't mention any names but he's the oldest....was sitting there hollering at me that he was finished....I walked to the door and told him in no uncertain terms that he was a big boy and I will no longer be assisting him in that area, metaphorically speaking. He threw his head back, let out a tremendously frustrated wail and hollered "Noooooooooooo!!!!!!!!"

What in the world??

I didn't ask him to pluck out his eyelashes. To rip off his fingernails. Or even to clean his room. It was just a simple request. To WIPE HIS OWN BUTT!!!! Come on!

I've been changing diapers and wiping butts for nearly SIX years non-stop, people. SIX years. So here's the deal..... If your legs are long enough for your feet to touch the floor when you're sitting on the pot, you're big enough to do the deed yourself in its entirety. Know what I mean?

I thought I'd made progress because this particular nameless individual went into the bathroom without making any public service announcements first, and shortly thereafter I heard a flush and realized that I'd not been beckoned to assist. I was pleased. So I continued cleaning up the kitchen with a proud smile on my face until he ran into the den, buck naked and yelled "Hey Mama....(as he turned around and leaned over)....did I get it all?????"

AAARRGGHHHHH

I'm finished now!!!!!!!!!!

in my next life....

this is all i want to do...
not run through sprinklers.... but take pictures of little folks who do.
and take more pictures of little girls with big blue eyes.

'cause I just can't get enough.

lessons in patience

As I sit here in the recliner recovering from my thyroid surgery, I've had a bit of an epiphany watching...of all spiritual things...Evan Almighty. These past couple of months....dealing with job loss, health issues, uncertainty, insecurity....I've prayed. A lot. Mainly I pray for patience because by nature I'm most impatient. I want what I want when I want it and on my terms. But I've been reminded here lately that this life isn't on my terms. And it's not about what I want. Especially if what I want is different from what God wants for me.

In this silly movie, God (aka Morgan Freeman) asks Evan/Noah's wife:

If someone prays for patience, do you think God gives them patience? Or does He give them the opportunity to be patient? If they pray for courage do you think God gives them courage or the opportunity to be courageous? If someone prays for a family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings? Or does He give them opportunities to love each other?

Wow.

How many times have I asked God to give me patience...to increase my faith....and look at how he's giving me the opportunity to be patient. And faithful. And depend on Him!

So these are times of opportunity. Not burdens. Opportunities. So today I'm going to thank God for giving me the chance to be patient...to be still...and to know who He is. And wait on Him to do what He will.

And try not to rush Him.

Always a Trip

We are on vacation. We left home last Friday, Georgia bound with a van full....a van full of children, luggage and the next door neighbor who hitched a ride to visit her son. After driving and visiting for six hours, I was ready for a break. We deposited Ethel at her final destination around dinner time, about two hours outside of Atlanta and decided to make it a fiesta. We found a fun little Mexican restaurant and watched in amazement as Catherine devoured an entire taco, rice, refried beans and a gaggle of chips. Our amazement over that taco dinner would not be shortlived.

We hit the perimeter in Atlanta right in the middle of the worst weather this side of Katrina that I've ever seen. All hail broke loose if you know what I mean. The van was pelted with golf balls as a multiple tsunamis poured over the roof...we hit pool after pool of water, hydroplaning from one side of I-75 to the other. By the time we reached our exit and pulled safely into my brother's house, my knuckles were white from gripping the door handle and I had blisters on the bottoms of my feet from hitting the brakes on the passenger side. After being pried out of my seat, I stumbled into the house asking for some Zanax with some vodka to wash it down. I was a mess.

We let the kids run wild playing with their cousin and finally got everyone calmed down and in a bed. But Catherine started complaining that her tummy hurt. It was somewhere around 11 pm and she was clearly in pain. I dug through my portable medicine cabinet and saw that I had packed something for every ailment from a scrape on the knee to constipation, but had nothing for the tummy ache (of course). So Andy offered to run out and find something for her. Since this was Atlanta, I figured he'd run to the super Walmart just around the corner and come back with some Children's Pepto or something like that. When he returned (nearly an hour later), all he had was a pack of adult chewy Rolaids, some saltine crackers and ginger ale.

She was still writhing in pain and didn't want to put anything in her mouth. "Come on sweetheart, " he said, "take some of the medicine...the Dr. said you'd feel better."

"You saw a Dr.?" I asked.

He shook his head no.

"A pharmacist?"

Again, negative head shake. "The manager of the pack-a-sack said this is what he gives his kids when they don't feel good."

The manager of the pack-a-sack. Mmmkay.

Well we found out later...as in sometime around 1:30 am...the reason she didn't want to put anything in her mouth. And we got to experience the El Mexicano especial all over again...although it wasn't nearly as enjoyable coming out as it was going in. UGH And remember, friends...we were in SOMEONE ELSE'S HOUSE!!!!! So I spent the next three hours scrubbing, cleaning, disinfecting, and washing sheets.

The first part of our vacation has been a trip. We are now in the mountains and I'm hoping I have nothing to blog about the rest of the week. I sent Andy, William and Catherine into Helen a while ago so I could enjoy a quiet cabin while the little one naps. If they return wearing lederhosen I'll be sure to take a picture. And, of course, blog about it because...well...that would just be funny.

I could use some funny.