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....