Darnell's Top Ten

Top Ten Favorites of Christmas 2010:

10. White Christmas – Yes, it’s #10 and lucky to even have made it on the list. It pretty much made the cut because the significance of snow falling, on Christmas, in South Carolina is huge. Apparently it was the first time in 47 years so I guess it deserves a spot, even if it’s dead last. If you were one of the many thrilled with this event, I’m happy for you. Really. I know it’s not something that happens every day so enjoy it. I just happen to have different memories. Memories of many a winter in the Midwest where we were immobolized with snow. NOT FUN. I couldn’t wait to get away from those harsh climates so obviously I'm not thrilled when they show up in the South. In fact, last year we were stuck in a blizzard in Missouri and coming home was no easy feat {as if it isn’t hard enough with good weather when you’re driving 14 hours with 3 small children}. Fortunately, my boys have a ‘big brother’ for a father, who couldn't hardly wait to get them outside yesterday, only to pound them with snowballs. No, I am quite content to watch from the kitchen window with my warm cup of coffee in one hand and a piece of pie in the other.

9. Gifts – Guess I should clarify. This means my gifts. The ones for me. I would say the ones given to me but that wouldn’t be completely accurate. I did purchase a new pair of shoes for myself just days before Christmas after a sweet friend convinced me I would love them and wear them all the time. I have to admit that she was right. Today is the first day I haven’t worn them in a week. They just go with everything. Six months ago, I hadn’t heard of Danskos. Now I wish I had every color in the rainbow. One day that darn money tree is going to find its way to Birchleaf Lane. I also received awesome gifts from my brother, in-laws and especially from my thoughtful husband. I sent him the link to this necklace months ago and totally forgot about it. Luckily he didn’t! I was so surprised! It’s one more thing I’ve worn daily since I’ve opened it.



8. Travel-Free – Beyond a 30 minute drive to Woodruff for Christmas dinner, we did no traveling this Christmas and it was wonderful. Less stress + quality time = happy little family. Sure beats having to plow through 4ft snowdrifts just to get out of the driveway and head home like last year {see above-not bitter}. We may be on to something with this no-travel thing. We had a nice, big Christmas Eve dinner, made reindeer food, left snacks, opened one present and went right down to sleep with the visions of sugar cookies. Cookies, plums, it's all relative.

7. Forever Friends – I’m not going to lie. I have the BEST group of friends. Old ones, new ones – I am so very, very blessed to have each of you in my life. Whether I got an email, a text, a Christmas card or a big, pink surprise, I just want to thank you all for being in my life and loving me and my family the way that you do. I’m a lucky girl for sure.

6. Homeless Friends – I've mentioned in previous posts that we help feed the homeless, particularly on the 4th Saturday of every month. It just so happened that the 4th Saturday of December was Christmas Day! There is no greater feeling in the world than serving those less fortunate with the family on Jesus' birthday. We served a hearty Christmas dinner and met many needs that day. Thanks to everyone who donated and/or served and helped make this possible. Though the volume of homeless friends was lower than usual, it was to be expected in the snowy conditions.

*Two newsworthy notes –

a) We had put our boys in the van to watch a movie, due to the cold temps and precipitation. All was fine, until the blessing of the meal. We were all joined in a circle, listening as the man prayed over the food, when we hear ‘HEEEEEEEEEEEEEY.’ Of course it was my child. Of course it was during the only silent time of the afternoon. Of course. d1 will tell you that he was just helping one of the other kids out – she had to use the bathroom and he felt it was his job to notify someone. I guess I should be glad that ‘HEY’ was all he shouted instead of ‘Hey, Alexa has to go #2!’ Speaking of potty…..

b) After we wrapped up the feeding and were getting ready to drive away to the family dinner, d1 tells us that he badly has to go. We are in the ghetto of Greenville, on Christmas Day, at 5:30. Our options are limited. We did what we had to do. We emptied out a water bottle and used it as a makeshift urinal. Somehow I drew the short stick and got to hold the bottle. Something went terribly wrong and the urinal ‘leaked.’ Merry Christmas to me. I tried to not freak out and, in hindsight, I’m not sure why I did but I did. I mean, it’s not like it hasn’t happened before. I have three boys. I've been showered many times during diaper duty and poop is a permanent fixture in our home. Poor kid - he just kept saying, 'Sorry, Mommy.' Guess I had just hoped to make it to dinner without stinking.....obviously a far fetched dream.

5. My brother – My baby brother{ok, so he is 24 years old} made the very long drive to spend Christmas with us and it was a wonderful visit. We had a few laughs with ‘Little Fockers,’ ate Japanese food, played some Monopoly and just hung out. The boys really enjoyed spending time with Adam, too! He even managed to add yet one more weapon to our household collection with a medieval-style gun. He says it was essential in capturing the dragon. Ok but guess what? These heathens have NO desire to capture a dragon. The dragon has played no part in their twisted fun. The dragon is likely buried somewhere in the play room rubble. Their only desire is to tag Momma D in the back of the head while I’m in the kitchen. I literally need eyes back there. That or a full body shield.



4. d3 – The littlest d-man seemed to really enjoy himself this Christmas. We had a hard time shopping for him this year – what do you get the kid whose brothers have everything? I can’t justify buying him something that we already have, especially when he would be totally content with a box of Teddy Grahams and a spatula. Needless to say, our gifts to him were minimal but others made up for it. Grandma S got him a Cozy Coupe and Grandpa D got him his own rocking horse, both of which he loved. We did buy him a few new books, my favorite being 'Everyone Poops.' I can't even say the title without giggling, which only means one of two things: a) I was destined to be on the all-boys team or b) My mind has been corrupted.





3. d2 – According to my little guy, ‘I want a Woody since I already have a Buzz.’ His words, not mine, to Santa. And Santa didn’t let him down. Unfortunately, we may have taken the boys to see Santa a little too early this year because d2’s requests slowly changed from Woody to a flashlight to a basketball goal to a DS. We had to explain that Santa doesn’t have ESP and that he can’t change his mind after the fact. He seemed to be okay with that. Note to self: Don’t visit Santa in October. Note to retailers: Don’t hire Santa in October. d2’s other favorite gift? A Radio Flyer wheelbarrow. It’s cute and will be even cuter when D1 makes a spot for it in the already over-crowded garage and out of the kitchen. I don't find it cute that d2 wants to haul trash in his wheelbarrow when the trash is from the trash can. d2 was especially fond of the fact that Santa left his toy bag at our house.





2. d1 – This boy was crazy excited for Santa to come this year. With him, there were no changes in his toy request. It’s been the same all along. He wanted a Dairy Queen blizzard maker. Is anyone shocked here? Good thing Mommy Santa shopped Target one random day in November and nabbed the last one. Those things were hot commodities. He also scored a Nintendo DS and a few fun games. d1 was thrilled that Santa wrote a note back to them and left it by the cookies. The animated look that d1 and d2 had on their face was priceless....




I added this picture because this NEVER happens. They NEVER play together in harmony. EVER.

Last but certainly not least -

1. Savior’s birth – ‘Remember the Reason for the Season.’ Though many say it, I wonder how many actually ‘get’ it, how many truly understand why we celebrate CHRISTmas. There is nothing wrong with celebrating the giving of gifts, as long as one understands that we give gifts because a gift was given to us, in the form of a baby boy, born in a manger. He came to Earth for one reason – to die. Because He died, we live. Listen, my life is not perfect. I struggle in so many areas. Most days are far from fun. Just because I have a relationship with Jesus does not mean I will not have hard times. However, I am covered in God’s grace and I know that I am promised an eternal life with the One who knows me best, who created me. That is what keeps me going when I feel like giving up. That is the hope I have found in my Redeemer. There's power in that gift.


Merry Christmas from the Darnell's!


This was the picture that should have been on the Christmas card - except with us all wearing matching scarves and gazing at each other with love and adoration.

Ode to My Fellow Publix Shopper

To the lady with whom I did not get the pleasure of formally meeting, I apologize. Oh wait. That's right. I did apologize. Several times, actually, as I was picking your boxes of Stove Top & Immodium up off of the floor. {Which, by the way, that was a lot of Immodium - are we planning on contracting the flu or.....?} It may have been hard to hear over the whines and shouts of 'Mom-EE' and 'I can't get the lid off of these peanuts...' but I really and truly am sorry that my buggy took yours out in the pharmacy department of Publix. I thought I could make that turn but these beastly carts just aren't made for that type of maneuvering and you happened to be in the middle of the aisle in my path and so I am very sorry. We've had plenty of grocery store mishaps but this was a first, if you can believe that. I didn't really think I had any of those left.

After I cleaned up your buggy and hurried off in shame, I bet I can guess what you were thinking. Probably what everyone else in the store was thinking. Why on earth would this loon bring her children {all clearly hungry and overstimulated} into a grocery store at dinner time? There couldn't possibly be anything worth that much stress to self and society. But then you would be mistaken. It's Wednesday, of course. Wednesday + Publix = PENNY ITEM. Unless the item is pet food or sardines, I'm not passing it up. And today's item happened to be a staple in our house - cereal. Or so that's what they started the day with. I soon found out that they ran low and decided to switch it to coffee. After some conversation, they agreed to let me swap Publix-brand frosted flakes for the coffee. So maybe it wasn't so much my petitioning. Maybe it was because d2 and d3 were in the process of opening a pack of Rolos and they wanted me to take control of the situation that they allowed the substitution. Either way, I was grateful. I decided not to mention the fact that I had already meal planned around the crushed cornflakes. I know to take the victories where you can. I also scored a few good deals on cookie dough, toothpaste, pasta and the aforementioned peanuts, thanks to my handy dandy coupons. For me, the trip was productive. Hope yours was as well.


Please find it in your heart to forgive us. We are just trying to get the most bang for our buck. Ok, when I say we , maybe I have a mouse in my pocket. These kids don't really grasp the idea of being frugal but, right now, we have one in diapers, two in year-round athletics and all three in ongoing growth spurts. I have no choice but to cut corners {literally, it appears} to stop the bleeding on our budget. As much as I do try and take care of such matters without said children, sometimes it's just not possible. I would promise that this won't happen again but the only way I could keep that promise is if you start doing all your grocery shopping at Wal-Mart. Otherwise, until next time, lady.....

The Inner Most Fears of a First Grade Lad

Before I share the fears, I think you should know that today might have been one of the most challenging days I've had in a long time. I should have known the moment I got out of the car this morning and the wind nearly knocked me over. Seriously? This is SOUTH CAROLINA! One of the many reasons I desired to live in this region was to get away from the arctic blasts so why must you follow me? The rest of my day was pretty typical {except I was treated to lunch by a sweet friend and rockin' preschool minister - thanks R!}. However, the moment I changed roles from professional to parent at 4pm, it all seemed to go down hill. I left work with the little boys and headed to pick d1 up from afterschool. I went in to get him and the workers used their walkie talkies to call for him. I waited. And waited. And waited. Um, should we check the batteries on these things? Do you actually know where my kid is? I mean, what's the malfunction here? And while I waited, I kept an eye on the other two in the car. They were fine for the first minute or so. Then I witnessed d2 attempting to suffocate d3 with one of my reusable shopping bags and there was just not much I could do about it. Sure, I waved my arms and yelled 'STOP' but he couldn't hear me with the car windows up and the 60mph wind gusts. He just waved back. Thankfully, d1 finally appeared and we went on our merry little way but this small delay set us back on our schedule and, on Monday nights, we have no wiggle room as it is. Fortunately, I made dinner last night so that all we had to do was warm it up. And yet somehow we still ran out of time. I walked in the house at 5:00, heated up the chili cheese pie, packed some snacks, wiped a counter or two, pleaded with d2 to eat a few bites, cleaned up d3, gave in and scooped all of d2's dinner into d1's bowl for his seconds, grabbed a diaper and walked out of the house at 5:15 for practice. All without ever removing my coat or heels. I usually have at least a minute to change myself into jeans and tennies but not today. This proves to be a significant detail that I will never again overlook. That practice was the longest hour of my life. In heels. d3 was OVER the snacks after the first 15 minutes and wanted only to be on the court. In all my efforts to keep him out of harms way, I really can't believe I never fell. I'm not that graceful to begin with so adding a few inches on a waxed floor is really not a great combination for this clutz. I'm happy to report that we had no injuries....at least, not to this point.

On our drive home, I was ROLLING with laughter at our conversation....

d1: Tomorrow is our field trip to Oakleaf Village. I need to dress nice. It's for the old people. They like us to look clean.

Me: Maybe you shouldn't call them 'old people.' It might hurt their feelings.

d1: Yeah, I know. That's what Mrs. Hegwood said. She also told us that we can't ask why they live there. And if they're in a wheelchair, we can't ask about it. And if they don't have husbands, we can't ask why.

Me: It's probably best that you follow these rules.

d1: I know. I'll try. We made them stockings today and put candy in them. Except no Laffy Taffy. Did you know that if they eat Laffy Taffy, their teeth will fall out? Why won't it pull my loose tooth out?

Me: We'll talk about that later.

d1: But Mommy, Mrs. Hegwood also said we can't ask about their skin. {in a very serious tone and slight whisper} I'm afraid she means that the old people have moles and you know how I'm scared of moles. What if they try to touch me? I might cry.


What exactly does a mother say to that? Obviously I wanted to validate his feelings but I couldn't help but burst out in laughter. Poor kid. I can't even be his confidante because I'm too busy giggling. Not at him, just at his freakish fears, totally inherited from his father's side.

I got home, put the boys to bed and did some prep on our homeless feeding for tomorrow. So what if, in the process of cleaning up the kitchen, I smacked my head on my HARD granite counter and fell to the floor in writhing pain? No blood, just a small lump and one giant headache. Maybe it was payback for laughing at the boy.....

Oh, and one more thing. I know that I use a lot of humor on my blog and it's all in good fun. I do find it especially entertaining when D1 is the focal point but in all seriousness, I LOVE my life. Really and truly love it. I chose this life of being a career mom and I wouldn't change a thing. Even on chaotic days like these, I love what has been given to me! Just the other night, I went grocery shopping with d3 and as we were walking into Publix, an elderly lady {maybe that's the term d1 should go with tomorrow} stopped me and said, 'Did you know that this is the best time of your life?' Yes, it is.

Guilty

Yes, I am absolutely a fan of bribing my child if it means he does what I ask. At this age, it works like a charm, especially if the reward is edible. I mean, just take a look at his belly.....





For the record, he does willingly eat his green vegetables. Don't blame him for responding to a treat. Would you comply if someone bribed you with broccoli? No, you wouldn't.

Classy Christmas Two-Thousand-And-Ten

Earlier this week, we mailed off our Christmas cards. If you haven't received it yet, please don't hate me. I'm sure there's an explanation. It's always possible that the mail man lost it.....or I just plain forgot. The latter is definitely the most likely. {sigh}

This is our first year in a house with a real mantle and a real tree. When we discussed the photo for our cards, I envisioned three boys in coordinating sweater vests by the fire and spilling sipping hot cocoa. Clearly, D1 had a different idea. And so this is what marriage is all about. Choosing battles. After all, I did veto inflatable St. Nick. I had to give the poor guy something to live for. Even if that means that my boys' dignities were forever compromised.

Below are a few pictures that didn't quite measure up. Could it be the violent nature of the picture? We clearly went in the direction of comical instead of classy this year.








{The weapons in the pictures were presents from Grandma S, opened just minutes before the shoot for the sole purpose of the picture. They have since been confiscated and now sit on top of the refrigerator. Oh and P.S. - NERF swords and axes DO hurt and WILL leave bruises. I.HATE.THEM. No, really. I have serious anger issues with these toys.}


And below lies 'the one.'





Just be thankful I was able to keep D1 out of the picture. It wasn't easy. Good thing the battery died before he could find his cape and boots, buried somewhere in the closet.

Living in a Fantasy World

For the last few days, the big question was 'will he or won't he?' Will D1 make the playoffs or won't he? Now don't be misled. When I say playoffs, I'm not referring to his basketball team {because everyone knows basketball doesn't have playoffs*}. I'm talking about fantasy football, people. This is not some monumental accomplishment, either. Okay, so maybe it is to him. Perhaps, in some way, he sees it as a reflection of his superior drafting and management skills. In any case, he lost this week. By one point. So now his season is officially over and when he told me, I really did try to find some kind words but nothing came out. I just couldn't muster any sympathetic words so opted with nothing at all because, in all honesty, I'm a tiny, smidgy-widgy bit happy. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy seeing my spouse experience victory and I know he enjoys the competition. Hey, I played FF with 'the guys' for a couple of years myself {yes, I drafted Brady AND Manning, back-to-back....some would say not the 'smartest' move but I'm a GIRL - the choice was quite easy} so I know it can be fun. However, I could still function after a loss. With D1, it's not quite the same. If Michael Vick throws an interception, you'd think the world was coming to an end. Or if the ball gets handed off in a run play instead of passing to one of his receivers {thus resulting in less points}, he acts like someone just stole his lunch money. I know it's a difficult concept to grasp but I don't think Ochocinco wakes up every Sunday morning and says to himself, 'I wonder how many fantasy points Dallas Darnell needs this week to beat his opponent. I'll be sure to do my best, just for him.' And I know this is where his competitive nature comes into play. This same nature is why we had to ban Madden '03 on PlayStation from this household FOREVER. There are plenty of stories behind that but saved for a later date. Some of you reading will need no explanation. You have fond memories. For now, I'll enjoy Sunday afternoons with my husband and try to console my love during his time of 'loss.' No pun intended. Oh, who are we kidding? I think I just snorted.

*ETA - I should add that there was not such a thing as playoffs in high school basketball but rather districts, semi-finals, finals, etc. And that was in Missouri. Maybe these Southern schools are different. Maybe this matters to no one but myself but I am what some might call a perfectionist and I would also hate for you to be misinformed, especially since it is imperative you know the correct terminology....

ShutterFly Special

Naughty Or Nice Christmas Card

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Shutterfly is offering a $25 gift certificate to bloggers who post a Shutterfly project so, though this is not likely our Christmas card {ok, the actual card is PERFECT but the picture will be different}, I am all about the free $25 as I expect my final order will be in need of some monetary assistance so there's the reason for this random picture. Go here if you want to do the same. Free is free, people!

Side note: all this computer programming terminology has my head spinning circles. The term 'embedding' gave me an anxious feeling and I had to Google what in the world it meant. I didn't realize how technically challenged I was until this very moment. Hmmph.

Reality Check

Last weekend we ventured to the mall for our annual visit to Santa. The visit where our boys sit on his lap for 45 seconds, rattle off all the goodies on their wish list, smile for the camera, grab the candy cane on the way out and wave good-bye to our hard-earned $25. Oh that's right, we did get the 5x7 photo for our blinking Santa frame. Keepin' it classy.

Speaking of classy and Christmas, I'm curious if I'm being too harsh on my husband and would love to hear some honest feedback. I'm really not sure where to begin, though. Let's just say that if I were to allow him total creative freedom when it comes to decorating for Christmas {or really any holiday, for that matter}, our house would win tackiest in Greenville County. No, really. There would be NO question. Clark would be put to shame. This is our 11th Christmas together and only the first time I've agreed to a real tree. Now, I have nothing against real trees, per se. I've just always heard they are messy and a fire hazard. Clearly I need nothing else to pick up after and am not looking to burn down the new crib but I compromised this year {with the understanding that we have white lights} and ta-da! We have our first real tree. Though it wasn't an excursion to cut one down in 4 feet of snow, D1, d1 and d2 picked a great one out {courtesy of Food Lion}.




I'll be the first to admit that it looks great. My poor pre-lit is probably so lonely and confused in the garage but the real tree really is gorgeous and smells so fresh. And the best part? I haven't seen one pine needle on the floor in a week. I'm probably getting my hopes up but if that's the case, let me live in my fantasy bubble. We did get a tip to 'water' the tree with 7-Up to help with the shedding and so far, so good.

Now back to the decorating style in question. As the boys are trimming the tree, I'm going behind them and merely assisting by moving the ornaments around to have an even distribution. While doing this, I notice a few that were hung that should have been in the trash years ago. An example? A brass Wal-Mart truck ornament. I believe this was my Christmas gift as an employee in college from good ole' Wally World. Thanks, Sam. You really went all out. Now, I did enjoy my job as a pharmacy tech but I have no desire to dangle the 18-wheeler from my tree, all these years later. Off you go. That's just one of many randoms I removed but the point is that D1 thinks the tree has to have EVERYTHING on it. No matter how old, how irrelevant, he thinks it belongs. And then the next day he really sent me over the edge. He ran to the store for a few last minute items for Thanksgiving and came back with....{gasp!}.....icicles for the tree. Really? Really! I mean, I really thought our tree looked great and now we're just cluttering it up with crap? I will admit, this is when I cried. It was totally the stress of hosting a dinner for almost 20 people that night that made me cry, but I think the icicles did me in. I know, self-proclaimed mess, remember? It wasn't one of my better moments but it did keep D1 from opening the second box.....

I think I'll leave it at that for decorating disasters. I won't start in on the inflatable St. Nick or the life-size plastic nativity set but I think those are self-explanatory {and for the record, NOT in my yard.} Needless to say, when a holiday comes around that could be depicted as one with decor, we tend to disagree on what is classy and what is trashy. He thinks that since we have kids, bigger and brighter are the only ways to go and if we don't, we're cheating them. I disagree. Where my girls at on this one? Am I wrong? I can take an honest opinion. I have been known to be wrong a time or two.

As I'm proofreading the above, I realize my title has nothing to do with what I've written but that's because, like always, I fluttered off on a tangent. There was a different direction I was going. Ah, yes. So, while at the mall after said portrait was taken, we did a little Christmas shopping. I wondered into Aeropostale and found a few gifts. This was the Saturday after Thanksgiving and they still had killer sales and I noticed a rack of cute signature t's for $7 and a super cute, hot pink one was just calling my name. Let me just say that I haven't shopped in this store for myself since college but it was a great price and I can always use some pink in my life so I flipped through the stack, grabbed a medium, decided to go with a large.....just in case it had serious shrinkage....but really thought it would be too big. Yes, I should have tried it on but 1) the entire brood was standing outside the door of the store, giving me 'the' look and 2) I just don't try clothes on. I really have no other reason other than I don't want to take the time. I definitely should have overlooked the stares and tried the shirt on because O.M.G. I put it on that night to go out for pizza and almost couldn't breathe. I was so confused. I still wonder if the company misprinted these labels because this was ri-donk-ulous. Maybe this was the reason for the $7 price tag. And so one would think with as tight as it was that maybe it would suck me in, right? You know, like a corset? Nope. Opposite, rather. It pushed every inch of my pudgy midline straight out front. You know those toothpaste contraptions that squeezes all the paste out? My shirt was a human form of that contraption. I am surprised I didn't hear the infamous 'When are you due?' line from some stranger while we were out. So there. My reality check. I'm old and I can no longer shop in Aeropostale. Ever. Perhaps they could post a sign outside their door that warns us. It could save some mental anguish. Maybe something like 'This store is only for individuals ages 14-15, sizes 0-2P. All others may proceed to the local JCPenney's for moccassins and moo-moo's.'

I probably should have just re-titled the post but I remember how I felt last week and I was all fired up. At who, I'm not sure but I know I was.

And some random funnies before I hit the hay. At 9pm. And there it is. It's not just the clothes that affirm I'm an old hag. I am going to bed at 9 AND I said 'hit the hay.'


d2 - 'Why do they call it a belly button?'
Me - 'I don't know. Maybe because it's round, like a button.'
d2 - 'No, that's silly. I think it's because it connects our belly to our butt.'


d2 - 'Daddy, who's your husband?'
D1 - {snickers} 'You'
d1 - 'No, he doesn't have a husband. He has Mommy. She's his woman.'

Guess that was my chance to teach them my real title in this house.

Queen.

My Own Lil' Transformer

Can you believe it? I birthed a real-life transformer. Though d3 has not yet reached his 2nd birthday, he has metamorphosed into this rabid-resembling, tyrant-turned toddler. I think if I look back in some of my earlier posts, I would read how this baby of mine was so calm and carefree. Somehow, somewhere along the way, that has changed. Not that he isn't capable of sweetness but these days, it is few and far between. This morning was pretty much like every other morning lately -



The picture isn't great but I can provide a quick recap. I'm walking him to his classroom - because he's 'so over' the idea of me carrying him - and I offer to carry his jacket for him. One might think that 'offer' is a silly word to use with a child this age because it might imply that one would need to verbally respond. Turns out he's fully capable. Though he may not be able to clearly say, 'No, Mother, I will carry it myself,' his actions say something very close to that. Less in words and more in screaming {and hitting}. His actions made it very clear that he wanted to carry his jacket. Too bad I don't take orders from a toddler. I've become accustomed to this newfound ritual - it was only 6:45am but it certainly wasn't his first of the morning and it won't be his last. I predict he will finally throw in the towel and recognize his defeat around 8pm tonight. I know this because our days are much like the movie 'Groundhog Day.' We start it with crying and we end it with crying. No big surprises. If nothing else, I can thank him for consistency.


Now that I've displayed his naughty behavior and released the stress from my morning round, here are some happier pictures. The first one {as you can tell from the shirt} was taken literally 2 minutes after the one above. That is a positive to this age - he may throw down numerous times in a day but he gets over it so quickly. This picture shows off his shirt more than the first one {probably because, in the first one, he was partially rolling around on the ground, hence the blurry pic} and I find it so appropriate. Because, you know, he IS a big deal.....unfortunately, he knows it, too.....



As I was posting some of these pictures, I found a few more recent ones. He loves the camera and he seems to think my iPhone's sole purpose is to photograph him. Whenever the phone emerges, I hear 'CHEESE.' Bless his widdle heart, he probably wouldn't even recognize the real camera if it bit him in the booty - I'm into efficiency and searching for the camera takes too long. But I always know where my phone is. If I don't, I'm on the verge of hyperventilation - just ask my husband. I'm not proud of it but there are worse things, right?










There. I showed you pictures of my cute little boy. I didn't devote it entirely to his heathen ways.

I will say this - he had better prepare for his days to come. He was born into a tough bunch and he's not scoring brownie points with his older brothers. It used to be that I was only refereeing fights between d1 and d2. These days, I have a hard time determining the perp. Used to be a no-brainer but lately, not so much. d3 seems to find joy in hitting his brothers and the weapons vary - Wii golf club, Nerf sword, remote control, sippy cup, banana - he doesn't discriminate. What is funny is that he knows what to do after the attack. He knows to take off running. Unfortunately, he hasn't quite mastered the art of running. He's in that awkward and uncoordinated stage so he tries to get away but ends up wiping out or running into something. So, as I'm walking him to time out, I'm often chuckling because he just isn't very good at being the bad guy. I'll give him two months {three at most} and he'll have it perfected. After all, he has great mentors and I just know they are anxious to lead him to the dark side. They all certainly seem to enjoy watching Mommy turn red. I assume he'll be no different.


One small confession to my third and final son. Dayne, I hope one day you enjoy my blog. Especially since it may very well double as your scrapbook. So what if your brothers had two 'real' ones - this is 2010 and electronic is 'in.' Besides, I think it's a birth right as the third child to get ripped off and I would hate to cheat you out of that right. Sorry, kid. It's the way it is. At this point in our lives, I'm patting myself on the back if you get your diaper changed every 6 hours. One day I'll make it up to you. I promise. And just remember - you'll always be my favorite baby....

Giggle Bugs

Nothing sweeter than hearing these sounds from my little ones....





....so what if they're laughing at noises resembling flatulence - they weren't fighting and that's a monumental moment in itself. Who knows - perhaps this could be our way of bonding them. Minus the biting, although this could be a good time for conflict resolution. But poor d3 - he must have been so confused. We are cheering him on to blow on d1's belly {to create said noises} and then he gets scolded. I'm sure he's thinking that he inherited some kooks for parents. And notice how he uses this moment as a photo op with a big, fat 'CHEESE!'

Do me a favor and turn your eyes from the mounds of never-ending laundry. It's embarrassing but I despise laundry and would pay an unreasonable amount of money to have someone come in and provide this service. If, of course, I had an unreasonable amount of money to give away. So, until I find that money tree, this is what the house looks like...

'Tis the Season...

...to go crazy. Fa la la la la la la la la.

I never realize just how 'calm' life is in the off season until basketball begins and then it's like someone hit the panic button. Or maybe it's just me hitting my internal panic button. Come to think of it, no one else gets freaked out like I do. Probably that type-A personality thing again. Seems as though I'm never going to grow out of it. Why can't I just be carefree, too? Oh, that's right. Because this house can't have two of those. Someone has to run this circus.

There does so happen to be a point to this random mess but I must give background. You see, I've officially been a coach's wife for over 7 years now but we musn't downplay the 2 years before we were married that I played the part. Although I was in college and working full time, I was at every game, home or away. EvErY sInGlE gAmE. D1 coached in a very small school where the away games were, literally, in far, far away. And I wasn't just a fan, I was even the scorekeeper and I had a job. A very important one, thank you. In addition to keeping the stats and all that malarky, I also had the responsibility of notifying 'Coach' when his players were in foul trouble or when he was out of time-outs. It's not as glamorous as one might think. Turns out you're actually supposed to tell Coach he's almost out of time outs....you know, before it actually happens. For the record, I only made that mistake once....

After getting married and {so very quickly} having children, D1's coaching was hard on all of us. However, this year is proving to be the most challenging so far. Both d1 and d2 are playing on their own basketball teams this year and, naturally, their practices are on different nights so there we are. Three boys, two nights a week at the gym, one big headache. I do try to prepare even moreso for these hurdles. I make every effort to sneak out of work a bit early in hopes of getting everyone from school, back to the house, shoving some food in their mouths, grabbing some snacks and distractions for LittleMan and running out the door so as not to be late. However, all it takes is one little thing {like I-85 traffic or d3's explosive bowel movements} and all bets are off as to my perfect planning. By the time we get home, everyone is usually crying {including me}, asking for something to drink {including me}, and ready for bed {including me}.

I just have to be honest and say that this whole coaching situation is a constant battle for me. And I'll be the first to say that it's my selfish nature that often wishes D1 didn't coach. I think of all the things I wouldn't have to do alone after a long day at work and how he would be here to help me give baths, pack lunches, read stories, etc. Then I stop and think about the disservice I would be doing for so many teenage boys. My husband was born to teach/coach. He was even voted 'Coach of the Year' in the 2006-2007 season. He is very good at what he does and yet extremely humble in his skills and abilities. It's quite inspiring. He is not only teaching these kids the fundamentals of the sport but he is also teaching them how to be strong, honorable and respectful young men. Many of these boys may come from broken homes. Who knows. They may not have any male figure in their lives. D1 is exactly where he needs to be. I just have to deal with it. He loves what he does and I love him. End of story. I do hope, for his sake, that I can overcome my petty self. And for my sake, I hope my DVR doesn't quit working and PET doesn't run short on CookiesNCreamExtreme.

And you thought this post was going to be full of festive Christmas caroling....

Exciting Times!

Whew, where to begin.

Church - let's start there. After a year of intense search and prayer, our church has found a new pastor and we are SO excited about it! Last night, he was presented to the congregation in a praise and worship service and it was phenomenal. He is such an amazing speaker and a skilled Bible teacher. He knows the Word and delivers it exceptionally well, especially for the simple-minded folk {like us}. We are thrilled that our church has found him and his family and brought them to Taylors. It just so happens that he has a 6-year-old boy. Yep, a little nervous. There's a good chance our boys could be in the same class. If you've followed me and my blog, you'll know why this scares me. No need to elaborate.

**Tidbit on last night's service - d1 and d2 attended and were really well-behaved. I had reservations given the time of night we were going to be there but paired with good snacks, activities {ok, so maybe the ice cream bribe was the main driver - and sitting them as far from each other as possible probably didn't hurt}, they did great. d2, though. What a hoot. At one point, he asked D1 {in a loud whisper} if the new creature {preacher} was there yet. Then later on, while we were singing, d1 nudges me and points at d2 and asks what he's doing. I look over to see d2 with his eyes squinting and hand lifted high in the air {with a bit of a Miss America cupped form}. He saw others around him praising God so why shouldn't he? That's my boy!

Community projects - D1 and I {along with some of our SS class members} have been teaming up with local organizations, going out into our community and feeding the homeless. We've done a couple of 'drive-by' feedings as well as one large organized Saturday feeding. What a humbling experience. Though I can't speak for those we've served, I can tell you what it's done for me and my family. To be the hands and feet of Jesus is truly a blessing. The Bible tells us to give to the poor. Proverbs 28:27 says "Those who give to the poor will lack nothing, but those who close their eyes to them receive many curses." Personally, this was not something I ever would have envisioned myself doing, even just a few short years ago. I had a bitter heart towards 'those' people, for personal reasons. I used to condemn the homeless by saying that it was because of their choices that they were homeless. Yep, probably so but who am I to judge? WHO AM I? They need Jesus, more than ever. We all do because we are all sinners who stumble and fall short of the glory of God. If we as Christians don't reach out, who in the world will?

With some of these projects we do involve the boys and they have processed a good bit of what and why we're doing this. They ask lots of questions and frequently include the homeless in their prayers, asking God to watch over them, to protect them, to bring them food and a house. <3 It warms my heart to see how these projects are changing my family and I'm equally as excited to hear that our new 'creature' is so mission-minded, especially on a local level. Hopefully we can work together on a major movement right here in G'ville! All we have to say is YES, God!

Mid-Slumber Plunge

So I fell in the toilet last night this morning. At 2 a.m. to be exact. Really no other way to say it but I do, however, have plenty more I'd like to say about it. Just like every other night, I got up to use the potty in our master bath. It's annoying that I still even have to do this - stretched skin AND bladder courtesy of child bearing. Awesome. Anyway, because I do this every night, I have mastered the art of going without ever opening my eyes. And because we have a 'sitting only' rule in our house for ALL males {because NONE of them can hit a large, round target}, I didn't even think to check and make sure the seat is down. Especially in my bathroom, where the only other person using it is another adult. I will now. I believe the first thought that came to mind {after clean up, of course}....well, I won't share that but it did involve a pillow. And oxygen deprivation. Fortunately {for him}, I calmed down and got back into bed without so much as disturbing my sweet husband. I layed there and stewed on how disgusting I felt, especially when I tried to recollect the last time I had actually cleaned that particular toilet. You see, I am on no sort of rotation - it gets cleaned when I see more black than white in the bowl. And to think I sat in it. Double-ick. So rather than going back to sleep and fluffing it off, what did I do? What any other crazy normal wife would do. I went and put the seat back just the way I found it. That's what we're taught as children, right? To leave things the way we found them? Surely he would need to go, too. Didn't he drink a lot of water before bed? So what if I layed there {for an hour} hoping to be awake for the moment of retribution. I just sat in toilet water {and who knows what else was on the rim}. I was entitled on every level.

He denied the whole thing this morning. Even laughed and said he wished he had been awake for it. I don't believe he really means that.

Operation Christmas Child

Last night, the boys and I grabbed some pizzas and headed over to a friend's house (that also has 3 boys) to hang out and pack our shoeboxes together. We first showed them a video from Samaritan's Purse so they could see how happy these gifts will make other children. Then we set up 'stations' of different gifts for the boys to put in their boxes and let them take it from there. We had quite the selection - Play Doh, Silly Bandz, pens, socks, crayons, GoFish, CANDY, sanitizer, toothbrushes, cars and more. Fortunately for the box recipients, we did do a tiny bit of monitoring - otherwise, some little boy would have received one sock and a whole bunch of Fun Dip. D1 and I have been packing shoe boxes for at least 6 years but the boys never really had much to do with it, either because they didn't understand or because we forgot about the boxes until the morning they were due at church and had to quickly throw a few together and call it good.






Now that I gave you the overview, let me go ahead and give you a few details. You know, because I would hate to mislead you into thinking that our visit was serene and calming. Make no mistake, it was stressful. As usual. I believe it was one of my offspring that chose flatulence as a table topic. And then one of them thought it was appropriate to jump on the boys' beds {though they never even do this at home}. Oh and to go out with a bang, d2 kicked a ball inside the house and hit Ms. J in the head. Again, just one more thing that they don't do in our home, a home that has more balls than books {ok, not really and did I just type that?} I don't know what was going on but they acted like a bunch of caged animals that were just set free from the zoo. I'm just glad our friends are so laid-back. We are still friends, aren't we?

Trick-Or-Treat

Halloween landed on a Sunday this year. Apparently that allows for more celebratory opportunities which obviously equates to MORE CANDY. I love candy just as much as the next person {and probably more if it consists of chocolate and peanut butter} but our house is on sugar OVERLOAD. I'm secretly removing candy from the boys' buckets a little each night and putting into another 'bucket' that will not be digested by my children {but our little Samaritan's Purse kiddies will enjoy}. Three little people high on red dye? No thanks. And it's virtually impossible to find any candy without artificial color. It's unfortunate but d1 and d2 have come to accept it. Actually, I'm finding it is teaching them appreciation - when I get a good price on organic M&Ms or fruit roll-ups at Whole Foods, I am 'the best mommy EVER.' Poor kids, so deprived.

So where did the candy come from? Saturday we did the neighborhood party with Grandpa D and then a little trick-or-treating. Sunday we went to the TFBC Fall Festival and then more trick-or-treating. It was the strangest thing - counties and/or subdivisions were able to decide which day would be the official 'Trick-Or-Treat' day so we did a little both days.

This year, we were fortunate to not spend more than a few bucks on costumes thanks to some borrowed accessories and hand-me-downs. d1 was a Clemson football player {with a Tennessee helmet - don't judge, he didn't care}, d2 was Spiderman and d3 was a turtle. Here are my little people in all their 'scary' get-up....

Back To The Basics

If you have followed my blog for awhile, you probably know that I am a brutally honest person. Some may call it a fault; I happen to think it's a strength. I'm just being 'real.' If you want my opinion, I'm happy to share it with you but I'm not a big fan of 'sugar-coating.' That's not to say that I'm purely a black-and-white person. I do see shades of gray every now and then, in some areas. Although I really do like black and white together - it gives a bit of a classy, elegant look. The paisley look, especially in weddings. The wedding we went to recently had lots of b&w and it was absolutely gorgeous......ok, where was I going with this? Oh yes, being real. Ahem. This is a 'being real' post because I'm making myself a bit vulnerable about our real-life struggles as parents. Of course I would love for you all to think that we have the perfect life, that we never argue, that our kids are total rule-abiding little people who never spew sassiness or have manic meltdowns....you know, modern day Cleavers. Who wouldn't. {For the record, I don't believe they exist.....and ETA - I wrote this before Mrs. C passed away this week.} I think my honesty comes from the desire to help anyone out there that may be facing similar struggles. I know that, especially as a parent, it helps to know someone else is in the same boat and that it's not just my little heathens wreaking havoc on my sanity, that others are sweating it out, too, and that we're all going to survive this phase. And from experience, a glass of Zin and a soak in the hot tub does wonders.....just sayin'.

Get to the point, Darnell. Last Friday we met with d1's teacher for the quarterly teacher conference, which is also student-led. Let me preface this next section by telling you that we really like his teacher. She is a Christian mom of two grown boys - she understands boys and how they tick. We are thrilled. Okay, so at the conference, Mrs. H went over his academic work and we couldn't have been prouder - our 1st grader reads at a 2nd grade level, his math work is great, only 'concerns' are his penmanship {which, in my opinion, isn't that bad - I can't distinguish between his and D1's most days, and that includes spelling.} Then we went into the behavior section of the conference. Make no mistake - we did not go into this meeting with unrealistic expectations. We know our child. He is smart and witty. He likes to make people laugh and is a people pleaser. Those are some of his positive attributes. He is also extremely LOUD, isn't really a fan of raising his hand and is a bit bossy. Oh and he does have a tendency to whine so when she brought these up, we weren't surprised. We explained that we battle the same things at home and that we're working on improving these areas. I honestly attributed most of it to his age, birth order, strong personality, GENDER, etc. Then she dropped a small bomb - his peers know him as THE tattle-tale of the class and he has also recently made a friend cry by making fun of her name. I think this is when Momma Bear started crawling out of her cave, and maybe because d1 put his head down and was on the verge of tears. My son may not follow all the rules, may be a bit over zealous at times and may have an issue with vocal volume {and yes, hearing has been checked} but he is a good boy and still my baby. He has a big heart with a sensitive soul, even if his recent actions don't show it. It just made it clear to us as parents that we have some areas to zoom in on so that we can help him be a good student and friend. It was hard to get upset with him when it just feels like we've failed him somehow. d1 is, after all, our 'science project.' We can only hope we have all the kinks worked out by the time d3 goes to college.....

I really let this get to me all weekend. I have always thought that there has got to be someone out there that has done this parenting thing right and has all the answers. Then it hit me. There is a place to go for all the answers. It's time to get back to the basics. It's time to get back to the Word. Really get into it and apply it to our daily lives with our boys. Scripture-based guidance is what we've needed all along. There is no better resource. I know that God has blessed us abundantly and He doesn't make mistakes. This is no coincidence that these blue-eyed boys belong to us. Some days - fine, most days - are challenging and utterly exhausting but we were chosen to be their parents and we will not let them - or Him - down.

Traveling + Small Children = Nightmare

The title should say it all but if you are still curious to know all the details of our trip, proceed. But beware - this is probably not much of an encouraging post. In fact, I'm writing this more to remind myself to never attempt it again with a small child. And now I know why kids under 2 are free. No one in their right mind (even the greedy greeds) would make someone pay $200 AND have to endure. That would just be cruel. Although I will admit - I would have paid the plane fare if it automatically granted me a well-behaved child but those aren't being offered just yet. I'm thinking it might involve some sort of opiate -- for mother AND child. Good news is we should be able to fly again in about 3 years because d3 will be 4 and, for sure, there will be no more children born from this mother. I was 99.9% sure before this weekend - now there is zero question. D-O-N-E.

Oh and another thing. I have very few pictures despite the fact that we were attending a wedding that my husband and son were in. Oh, I brought the camera but no memory card. I didn't realize until MUCH later that it would still work and capture the memories. Just perfect. So any pictures I have are either from my phone (before it broke - just one in my list of small catastrophes) or from others who snapped shots.


OK, so where to begin -- chronologically, I suppose.

Thursday night, we grabbed a quick dinner at BoJangles and headed to GSP, where we were scheduled to leave around 5:55pm for a short 30 minute express flight to Charlotte (NO, we could not just drive to Charlotte and fly direct to KC - that would actually make sense. Keep reading. My frustration on that subject will resurface later on the flight back). So we prepare to board the itty bitty --





We taxi out to the runway and all appears to be going as planned. That is, until the dreaded announcement comes over the loud speaker - 'Sorry folks, we have no idea why but there appears to be a delay. We're going to shut the engines off to save gas - get comfortable and we'll keep you posted.' Get comfortable? Where? And guess who was the only family on the flight with a baby? I think it's safe to say that no one wanted to hear that broadcast but I would bet the people seated in front of us were the most disappointed. Not only did they have d1 kicking the seat from some nervous twitch he seems to have taken on but d3 is antsy and wanting nothing to do with any of my edible distractions. I packed every type of snack possible, which is ordinarily the way to his heart, but by the time the delay was over (lasted 30 minutes but felt like 300), he had gone through a tasting of each and was done with them. Isn't that great? What in the world will we do on the next flight that is nearly 2 hours long? Guess we'll be chemically assisting him to sleep with the help of Benadryl. The rest of the flight went okay - d1 and d2 played their 'portable electronic devices' and were excited with the surprises that awaited them in their backpacks, d3 just squirmed and whined.....


Welcome to Charlotte-Douglas International Airport - where the stellar logic continues. We get off the first flight and prepare to find our connecting flight, only to see that the gate is on Concourse B......and we are currently on Concourse E. And we have 10 minutes to get there before our flight leaves. Not boards, LEAVES. So, with three four boys and eight bags, we high-tail it to the other side of the airport. I'm fairly certain we resembled the 'Home Alone' family in a mad dash to our plane. We could have had a faster pace if d2 didn't like to randomly stop and people watch because then I had to stop my slow-jog and pull him along. We get to the gate, at which time the flight attendant says 'You must be the Darnell's.' See - we were THAT late. We board the plane and I'm pretty sure the same guy that was constantly kicked on the first flight and is now on the second flight wants to throw himself out of the emergency exit. And he has good cause. Turns out Benadryl has zero effect on d3 -- perhaps maybe even the opposite -- because he turned into a monster. I have never seen him throw down the way he did -- exorcism, anyone? I was in tears, he was screaming.....everything I feared this trip would be. So we struggle through that craziness and he finally falls asleep with about 15 minutes of flight time left. d1 and d2? ANGELS - thank goodness! They were the ONE good thing we had on that flight. Just when I thought we had survived without the criticism or ridicule from our fellow passengers, the guy in front of us turns around and asks how old d3 is. We tell him and he decides to open his mouth wide and insert his foot - 'Yeah, I have a 9-month-old at home. I can handle my own child crying but I just can't stand listening to others.' Really? Did you really just say that? Did he really just say that? D1 says my look must have clued him in to my potential explosion because he followed up with 'Oh, but he was fine. No big deal.' Damage done, dude.

OK, so I'm glad that nightmare is behind us.....for a few days anyway. We arrive, our friends pick us up from the airport and graciously offer up their SUV to us for the entire weekend (thanks, J&L!) and off we go to another friend's vacant home to sleep. By this time it's about 11pm and the boys go right to sleep. And so do we. Unfortunately, we have a human alarm clock at 5am -- about 2.5 feet tall, 30lbs, yells 'Da-eeeee' until we pull him from his pack-n-play. After some wrestling in bed with us, he finally falls back asleep....just as the other two rise for the day. At this point, we realize just how long of a day it's going to be. We pick up tuxes, make a couple of Target runs for forgotten items, visit some family, visit some friends, attempt some naps and off to the rehearsal. Since D1 is the best man, I'm flying solo (and in heels, which becomes a struggle very soon) with all three and trying to keep them quiet and somewhat civilized. d3 is constantly trying to make a get-away and when he is sitting on my lap, he's dumping his Teddy Grahams on the carpet of the soon-to-be ceremony hall and then taking pleasure in stomping on them. And chucking his juice that is definitely NOT spill-proof. And then d2 is trying to rehearse his part as ring bearer but I can't seem to keep d1 from following behind him everytime he walks down the aisle. He would whisper in his ear, 'That's not how you do it. You're walking too slow. I've done it two times. It goes like this.' So I was trying to keep d1 in his seat and keep d3 from screaming. And the sweating begins....in the heels. What's a mom to do to keep their hineys planted? I do what anyone in their right mind would do - I come down to the child's level and I open my goodie bag and pull out some earlier purchases from Target -- Junior Mints and Halloween light-up toys. Listen, I'm not proud that their pre-dinner was mint-flavored chocolate candies but 1) Grandpa was coming to kidnap them for the night and 2) it worked. And soon after, Grandpa arrived and the night went smoother.

Wedding day arrives. We had the chance to sleep in since boys were still with the grandparents. I say 'have the chance' because we didn't actually do so. I would have but 'someone' woke up and thought he would flip and flop in the bed until I woke up, too. I mean, really. We NEVER get to sleep past 7am. So we got up, head to Target again, grab a Starbucks and enjoy some alone time. And then it's time for the big show and it was awesome. A & T planned an amazing wedding and everything went off without a hitch. d2 was perfect and extremely handsome. It was too cute seeing him stand up there in the same line as his daddy, especially because looking at him is just like looking at a mini-D1. Here are several pics from the wedding (not from my camera, though) ~













The reception was a lot of fun. There was a photo booth for the guests to enjoy (and a scrapbook created for the bride & groom) and we got lots of souvenirs. Particularly a lot of souvenirs of d1 -- they eventually had to ask him to stop because he was going around to every table, asking complete strangers to take a picture with him just because he loved making silly faces in the booth. Goob. We got to spend time with so many of our friends that we dearly miss and it was just a great time. And D1 tore it up with his dance moves to 'The Devil Went Down To Georgia.' He was pretty hysterical. And we all busted out in the Cha-Cha Slide and the Cuban (I stand corrected - my husband informs me it is called the Cupid Shuffle)....and I was beginning to wonder if my toes would ever be the same after his size 13 foot kept making its way to my dainty little piggies. That man can be so clumsy but at least he didn't discriminate -- he stepped on everyone's feet.










Notice all the pictures I have and none show off the dress. Or rather none that show the size of the person in the dress. My whole weight loss goal was for this wedding and merely to give myself a target and timeframe to work hard. After lots of spinning, zumba and boot camp classes at the Y and many meals where the main ingredient was lettuce, I did hit my goal and lost 15 lbs. I'm thrilled to be where I am -- I haven't seen these numbers on the scale since high school -- but I have to gripe because, well, I'm pretty good at it. Why oh why does the weight have to come off in the wrong areas? My bubbies must have been half the weight I lost because they are deflated, like someone let the air out of them. If that was the case, I would really have liked it to have been a little lower in the body. Okay, I'm done complaining.


So, let's finish this post and go out with a bang. We headed to the airport Monday around lunch time and prayed for no delays or major issues. As we were going through security, an older man patted me on the shoulder and told me I was entitled to take my time since I had three little ones and that they were blessings. I was just hoping he would be sitting next to us on the flight.....and also occurred to me that he might retract that last statement if he had such luck. Once inside the gate, I bought some bananas for the kids.....I paid $1.19 EACH. A few obscenities might have gone through my head but I was bound and determined that we were getting back to some form of nutritious meals considering all the junk we had consumed for 3 days straight. As d3 was eating his nana, we gave him Motrin in hopes that it would work differently than the Benadryl. Wishful thinking. A few minutes later, another older gentleman asked me if I feel like the ringleader in a circus, referring to my crazies running around. He chuckled but I'm thinking he was laughing at me and not with me. Oh and here's a good one. Just before we board the plane, I reach in my bag to get something and all I feel is moisture. Seems d3's sippy cup (you know, that one that is 'spill-proof') got tossed in the bag but with the lid only half on. So now everything in the bag - camera, diapers, SNACKS - are all wet, sticky and smell like apple juice. (Sorry Laura - no stains, only a fresh apple scent.....)I don't even get mad at this point. Why bother, right? Fortunately, the plane ride wasn't as bad as the last one but d3 wanted no part of sleeping....or snacks....never mind sitting still. He did temporarily enjoy playing with the swizzle stick in a cup of ice -- that is, until he realized he could get attention by throwing the ice. Oh and he did like taking one piece of cereal, squatting down and hiding under the seat. He did this for awhile so I'm sure there's quite the little dry goods supply under there of my trail mix if anyone ever bothers to vacuum. We were hoping it would continue longer but he just reverted back to the crying/whining/screaming. However, no one took it upon themselves to share their inner most thoughts on how much they despise crying babies on this flight so I did find that to be refreshing.

Last bit of this trip I want to be sure to remember was our little stop in Charlotte on the way home. Again, where is the direct flight, people? We had 1.5 hours to eat so we grabbed some Burger King dinner (Healthy resolution lasted 3 hours. Grease always makes me feel better....temporarily.) and headed to our gate, only to find our flight delayed 30 minutes. And then another 20 minutes. Do you know how frustrating it is to be delayed in an airport that is an hour from your home and there is nothing you can do about it? We tried blocking the boys in an aisle with our luggage but they still managed to climb/jump/run all over the place, having 'sword fights' with blankets and coloring books. As long as I could see them and they weren't (fatally) hurting themselves or others, we just let them do whatever. I usually like for strangers to think I have some sort of control over these kids but let's be real. I had lost that four days before.....

Bootcamp Butt-Whoopin'

In all my infinite wisdom, I thought it a good idea to start working out again. Figured it couuldn't hurt my weight loss journey. No big deal, really. I know my way around a gym and am aware of what I need to do to burn calories. A little elliptical, a little treadmill, some ab work, and out. Then I decided to take a chance and take a Zumba class at the Y and it was super fun. I got a nice little workout, nothing too strenuous. I'm thinking 'Wow, maybe I'm not nearly as out of shape as I thought.' I will soon find that to be an incorrect (and painful) assumption.

The next week a friend and I decided to attend a Saturday morning bootcamp session. This was my first ever bootcamp and I wasn't really sure what to expect. We did some suicides, some mountain climbers, some burpies, some lunges -- just a bunch of circuit exercises. It was tough but not unbearable. The next day, my legs were pretty sore but not nothing too intense.

Fast forward to this past Saturday. Yesterday. Same friend, same time, different instructor. This week, GI Joe was in charge. I jogged. I jumped. I did more push-ups in 58 minutes than I've done in my entire 30 years on this planet. I did bear climbs and crab crawls up and down a hill, resulting in one nice face plant by yours truly. Um, yeah. Real graceful. However, I was just glad I survived without vomiting. Seriously, though. I have never hurt so bad after a workout. Never. Not even after d1's childbirth that included 3 hours of pushing his abnormally large sized head out. OK, maybe that part of my body wasn't as affected but the rest of my body was begging for mercy. Today is worse. It literally hurts to breathe. The boys hug me and I want to cry. I am starting to wonder if I passed out along the trail yesterday and someone came by and beat me with a baseball bat. Yes, it feels THAT bad. Although I will say -- there's some sort of pain management in whining and it just so happens that I can do that really well.....

Starstruck

Earlier this week, I had the pleasure of personally meeting one of my all-time favorite authors, Nicholas Sparks. In my quick little minute to say hello and have my picture snapped with him, he seemed really down-to-earth and 'normal' -- as normal as one can be, given his accomplishments and acheivements. I even momentarily forgot all about how much I detested the recent movie based off of his book 'The Last Song' during our 'moment.' Besides, I can't really fault him, right? He wrote an amazing book, someone else ripped it apart with the acting and screenplay. In any case, it was an awesome experience. Thanks to my sweet friend who went to all the trouble to pre-order our book and secure our purple passes!

SuperMom or SuperMess?

Some girls I work with have often referred to me as Supermom and I just laugh it off. Though I know they say it with total kindness, I often think how they couldn't be more wrong.

If they were to be a fly on the wall in my home on any given day, they might see carmelized cereal-milk stuck to my hardwoods in the kitchen. I've yet to mop my floors and we've been here 3 months. Gross. They might find every bathroom trashcan overflowing with dirty diapers and TP tubes because I wait to empty them until that very next Q-tip causes a landslide. And home organization? Clearly a concept of the past. I have this amazing master closet that I had envisioned to easily house all of my scrapbooking toys in a neat & orderly fashion. However, one might not make their way back out of the closet due to the never-ending piles of laundry.

I constantly forget about show-and-tell, lunch money, birthday parties and book fairs. I can't seem to keep their names straight when I'm (gasp!) yelling at my boys. Sometimes my mind wanders when I pack d1's lunch and he ends up with two desserts and no fruit. I showed up late to Meet-The-Teacher AND Open House (two separate occasions). d3 tinkled on his way in the tub - I didn't change the water.

Uh huh. I'm a self-proclaimed mess.

Here's the crazy part -- we're about to multiply the maddness. D1 starts his season soon and I revert back to my 'coach's wife' role, d1 & d2 start their own b-ball leagues and I'm heading up some outreach projects at TFBC. Some of these projects have the potential to really make a difference for those who both give and receive. I don't really know where the extra energy is going to come from but I have complete FAITH that God will provide. He will provide me with patience, enthusiasm, spirit,....everything I need to pull it all off.

Maybe SuperMom has her house in immaculate condition, laundry neatly folded and a healthy balanced meal on the table every night. I certainly don't. But that's okay. There are more important things in life. There are lost people who need us to reach out, people who yearn for hope, for a reason to live. I desperately want my children to understand how extremely blessed they are and show them how to spread God's love to the world. If that means I neglect house work (even more) or cook a couple extra frozen meals, so be it. The boys probably prefer Stouffer's over my homemade anyway.

When God's love prevails, I'll accept SuperMess over SuperMom.....

Labor Day Get Away to the Mountains

Last weekend we headed north a couple of hours to Blowing Rock, NC -- particularly to Tweetsie Railroad. I would like to mention that this wasn't much of a planned trip. Instead, it was another one of those 'hey, let's go away this weekend' emails from D1 that sparked this little mini vacay. The point being that I am actually getting better at this sponataneity thing. I've done this twice in the same year and it's pretty fun. We debated a few locations including Atlanta & Charleston but my awesome friend recommended this place to us and the train theme pretty much sold us so off we went.

And it was gorgeous! We had a perfect day, almost on the chilly side being up in the mountains, but it really was a good choice. If we had any major catastrophes, they must not have been that bad because a week later and I can't recall. Oh wait -- we did lose d3's 'blankie' but that was temporary. D1 had to push d3 in the stroller up the 'nature trail' (aka mountain climbing with the Graco) and somewhere along the way, d3 tossed it out into the wild. It made for a tough few hours because it happened right around his nap time and I was hoping that blanket would soothe him enough to pass out for a while in the stroller but he would have none of that without the taggie blanket. On our way out of the park, we checked in the lost & found and someone had dropped it by. I wasn't real surprised - it's definitely not a blanket that one would marvel over but my baby boy sure adores it.

And so what if I gave it right back to him from the lost & found bucket. I'm pretty sure that whatever he ingested on his fingers was worse than anything on that blanket. It had been a long day and I was ready for the whining and fussing to end so I gave it to him to suck on. I make no apologies....


A few pics at Tweetsie ~


Exploring the county jail (notice the article in d3's hand - this is a before) -





Brothers riding together - and once again, d2 has another mark on his face, this time right in the middle of the forehead. Seriously, this kid.....





Against my direction to stay off the broken slide, D1 decided that it was 'fine' to play on. And we wonder why our children don't have great listening skills....





On ole Tweetsie herself -





Choo-Choo!




Side note here - notice d3's fingers? Our little nasty habit he's had since birth? G-O-N-E! Hopefully I didn't just jinx the whole thing but we ordered some stuff from Amazon that had a bazillion reviews of 4 and 5 stars, claiming to have stopped 30-year nail biting, thumb sucking, etc. We are now two full days in and we haven't seen him suck the fingers once, not even at bed time which is when I typically have to remove them from his mouth once he's asleep. Praise GOD - we might just be over this hump!