Sunday Sillies

Today D1 and I decided to begin a weekly bible study with the boys. Nothing elaborate, mind you, but every Sunday night after dinner and bath time, we are going to review the bible story/verse that they learned earlier that day at church and just give them the opportunity to ask questions and work on Scripture memorization and then end with family prayer. Though it went fairly well, we can't do anything in this house without adding a layer of laughter.

Before the conversation, picture this. Three boys in their jammies, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the carpet, full of giggles and gas.


D1: OK, boys. Who remembers their bible verse from church this morning?
d1: Can I have pancakes tomorrow?
D2: Right now, we're not talking about breakfast. You had two verses, one from Mark and one from Psalms. Can you tell me one of them?
d1: I know how to spell Psalms - P-S-A-L-M-S. The 'P' is silent.
D2: Good. Now what was the verse?
d2: OUCH! Dayne just bit my toe.
d3: {giggles}
D1: Dayne, go sit in time out for biting.
d3: Ooo mean! No!
D2: Now, let's start with the first one. It was from Mark 12:41 about the widow's offering. What did she give?
d1: She gave money.
d2: Yes and it was more than the rich people. It was all she had.
D1: Wow. That's right. Jesus asks us to give 1/10 back to Him. That's one penny out of ten. It's so little compared to what we've been blessed with.
d1: How exactly does it get up there? You know, to heaven?
d2: Did you hear that, Bubby? {giggles} Do you smell it?
D2: {shooting 'the look' to d2} Good question, Dagen. It doesn't, really. We give to the church so that our tithes and offerings can help others to learn about Jesus, like with mission trips.
d1: OK. Are we done? I want to go shoot Davis with the gun.


That's the condensed version but obviously their minds were a little all over the place. Oh well. We'll keep trying. Even if they are only able to memorize one a month, it's worth the effort. We're building that armor, one verse at a time.

As I type this, I am being treated to a skit, courtesy of D1 and the two older boys, a re-enactment of the Foghorn Leghorn scene in Space Jam. You would think it was their idea - I mean, they are the kids. Wrong. All planned and produced by their father. Their 32 year old father. The same father that initiated outdoor races today that ended with my toddler rolling down the hill and ultimately coming to a halt after his little wagon hit a neighbors car, as I watched the whole thing in horror. Good times.

As for the car - no dents, no ding, no declaration of guilt. It was a plastic wagon, after all. How much damage could it really have done?

I Will Rise

I recently gave my testimony for the first time to my bible study girls. Though it was a huge relief to get it out of the way, I have a feeling it won’t be the last time I speak it aloud to a group and I’m slowly becoming okay with that. I have realized that I was given this life and these circumstances and it’s all to glorify God. One way or another. This is my story.

I was born in Kansas City to a single teenage mother. Though every birth is a miracle, I like to think I was an even bigger miracle, considering the numerous abortions my mother had prior to my conception at 17. My father wanted nothing to do with me - he was a married man and already had his own family. Six years later, she married and got pregnant with my brother, Adam. He left us before Adam was ever even born.

My mother uprooted us to Massachusetts when I was 7 years old. We moved from one motel room to the next until she met a guy and we moved in with him. We’ll call him S. Drugs and alcohol were an everyday occurrence and I believe this is where my mother started her downward spiral. We moved back to Missouri when I was 11 but things just got worse. S was verbally abusive and acted inappropriately in many ways. I slept with a baseball bat under my bed in fear and many times, asked Adam to sleep in the bed with me. I cried myself to sleep so many nights, wishing that someone, anyone would rescue me.

When I was 13, my mom came home and gave me her cashed paycheck to ‘pay the bills.’ I didn’t mind doing this – at least I knew the phone wouldn’t get cut off if I paid it and, at that age, that’s all I cared about. That night she went out with a girlfriend and got arrested for a DUI. Her friend woke me up in the middle of the night, told me to get the money and go bail her out. I called a cab and showed up with bail money. She wouldn’t even look at me. So much for the bills…..

Adam and I went back and forth, living with our grandma in between her jail sentences for DUI, possession, etc. The last time we lived with my mom, it ended very badly. I was 15 and waiting tables at a local diner for tips. I wasn’t spending my tips on pizza or new earrings, I was using it to buy Adam clothes and school supplies. After all, we were starting a new school and we knew she had no money to purchase the necessary items. One night, I awoke to find her rummaging under my bed, looking for my money. We had a blow up but she left my money alone. A couple of nights later, I was at work and called home to check in. Adam told me he had been there by himself all day…..he was NINE YEARS OLD. She never came home from wherever it was she spent her time {because it wasn’t a job}. I don’t know what made me do it but I found the number to her probation officer and I called and told the PO that I knew she had cocaine in the house and where to find it. Within an hour, she was arrested and taken to jail. Again. For whatever reason, there was no social worker intervention and so I made the decision to take Adam and live with my older boyfriend. In hindsight, it was a bad idea. A horrible one. But at the time, I’m not sure I had many options. I refused to be separated from Adam and my grandma was in no position to care for both of us. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

Adam and I lived with the boyfriend and his family for 2 + years. I have nothing but appreciation and gratitude for this family. Their house was extremely small but they allowed us to stay there. We all struggled but because of their generosity, Adam and I were able to stay together. It just pains me, though, that I was that young and sharing a bed with my boyfriend. It just wasn’t right. I felt so ashamed of myself but I was not sure how to break free. At that age, I should have been going on dates to the drive-in, not shacking up and providing a life for a 10 year old.

My senior year, I decided it was time to move out. It was not an amicable split, it ended very badly but it was the right thing to do. We moved in temporarily with friends until I graduated in May. Somehow, after 14 schools in 13 years, I was done. Right about the same time, my mom moved from stints in county jail to years in state prison.

After high school, Adam and I got our own apartment and I chose community college and two jobs. As much as I wanted to go to university and begin my degree, I couldn’t afford to work a part-time job and still provide for us. We did receive assistance from the state and some help from an uncle in Maryland but it still wasn’t enough. We kept in touch with my mom while in prison, even visited a few times. This is right about the time I met D1. Monumental moment in my life for sure!

After about two years, my mom had secured a work release job and was scheduled to be discharged. She wanted Adam to come live with her and start over again with him, and that would allow me to go to school full-time. Needless to say, it didn’t work out. She was back to her old ways quickly and Adam returned back. He remained living with friends of ours while he finished out high school and I finished college.

In June 2003, D1 and I were married. It was an amazing day! Though I had very little family present, I was marrying my best friend, the man that was meant for me. More than anything, what stuck out from that day was our ride in the limousine to the hotel after the reception. Out of the blue, D1 says to me, ‘I think we should pray.’ I was dumbfounded. After all, neither of us were raised in the church. At that moment, our lives were forever changing, we just had no idea how significantly.

A month or so later, we began attending a local church with some friends of ours. There we listened to an incredible pastor tell us that no matter what we’ve done in our lives, we were forgiven. That Jesus paid the price for our sins so that we didn’t have to spend eternity in hell. To someone with my past, that was colossal. In May 2004, D1 and I both accepted Christ as our Savior and were baptized together, just three days before d1 was born. It felt amazing to relinquish control and surrender.

Also in May 2004, I graduated with a BS in Accounting and Adam graduated from high school. We both made it! Praise the Lord!

Today I have three healthy boys, an incredible husband, a handsome 25-year-old brother, a job that I love, a house that I cherish and am surrounded by family and friends that love me. The life I have now is the life I only dreamed of just 15 years ago. I am blessed beyond words. I have a joyful heart, abundant faith and excited for eternity.

There are many reasons one might share a testimony but for me, I need you to know my past so that you can know who I am in the present. I’ll be honest. In my darkest days, I wondered if there was a God. Because, if there was a God, how could He have let this happen? Was I really that bad of a person to deserve this much pain? I know now that, though bad things do happen to good people, God is in the midst of it all. He’s ever present and never failing. He has given me this time on earth to make a difference in the lives of others, to show them the hope that we have in Jesus and what He’s brought me through and that’s just what I intend to do.

The Spiritual Lightbulb

Just recently, something has clicked in this pea-sized brain of mine. We all hear people say, ‘Why won’t God send me a visible sign?’ or ‘I just wish God’s voice was real.’ To me, these are all very valid and normal longings. I, too, have desired that writing-in-the-sky, that piece of mail personally addressed from Jesus himself, saying, ‘Yes, Dawn, that’s the path I destined you to walk. Go in peace.’ However, to this day, I’ve yet to see such.

Now, please remember that I’m still a very immature Christian. It's true. I mean, I just gave my testimony for the first time this past week. P.S. – that was TOUGH. Maybe I’ll blog about that one day for anyone who wasn’t there and is interested. My point is that what I’ve discovered is something many probably already knew but for whatever reason, it’s really on my mind. This may be more for the simple-minded folk -> me.

After our stop at DunkinDonuts {weekly, not DAILY, and only with good behavior - don't judge, it works}, I’m driving to work this morning. As ‘Voice of Truth’ is cranked up {d2 has moved on to a new Casting Crowns song and the volume level is irrelevant because his singing is MUCH louder than what is coming from the speakers}, it occurs to me that God answers prayers. Clearly this is not the epiphany. I’m not that unformed. Obviously I know, much to our chagrin, that sometimes it’s a ‘yes,’ sometimes it’s a ‘no,’ and sometimes it’s a ‘not right now’ {or, in some cases a ‘are you CRAZY?’} What I just now realized is that, over time, many of my prayers have been answered but not because my circumstances have changed but because I have changed. Whoa.

Maybe I’ve known this deep inside but, for whatever reason, it’s hitting me hard right now, in this very moment. So much so that I scarfed down my lunch to have a few minutes to blog this at work while I still had it fresh. Yes, my prayer life is still not where I would like it to be, maybe even a little pathetic but that’s my fault. I know I need to make more time and not just give God the ‘leftovers’ but even in the small time I do spend in prayer, I’m now realizing that He has changed my thoughts, my desires, my urges. This has drastically changed who I am and it has NOTHING to do with my abilities. All Him.

How do I know this? Not so long ago, I would see a purse I liked and I would buy it. Just like that. I wouldn’t think about how our money could be better spent. I wouldn’t think about how far that cash could go for a homeless person or a single mom. I wouldn’t think about how I already had 47 purses at home. I would just buy it. Now if I see a purse and I want it, I wait. I wait until either the desire leaves me or the purse goes on sale. Either way, I’m learning patience and I know this is a God thing because I prayed for help with my impulsive tendencies not so long ago. I had struggled with it for years and I knew it wouldn’t just change overnight but, in hindsight, it kind of did and that’s not because of me. I’m not that strong. This is just one example in my life. Now if I can just get a double shot of that patience where my boys are concerned.....

Sure, it happens on occasion. Opportunities come up that we think are perfect and that it must be ‘meant’ for us. It must be a ‘sign.’ I’m not saying I don’t believe it. Heck, our whole story of moving to SC was pretty much a miracle in itself and all based on doors opening and closing in just the right time. But what I’m learning is that I need to spend more time in prayer and in asking God for His will to be done, to continue changing my thoughts and desires to what aligns with His plans. As a self-proclaimed control freak {hello? I am currently struggling with control of a date night itinerary with my hubs! I can’t even let that go!}, this is not easy but, in time, how awesome to know we are exactly where God wants us.

Prayer does not change God, but it changes him who prays. ~ Søren Kierkegaard

Prayer may not change things for you, but it for sure changes you for things. ~ Samuel M. Shoemaker

And for a little humor to end this Friday post ~

As long as there are tests, there will be prayer in schools. ~ Author Unknown

Bargain Buys

In the last month, I've really had some great shopping trips, especially to CVS and Publix. I've even photographed a few of them.....


Paid $1.51 with $12.59 back in ECBs....



Paid $2.71 with $4 back in ECBs......



Paid $17.78 at Publix.

Now, I probably should have put this picture first because after the first two CVS trips, the total out-of-pocket seems so much higher but I got a lot of food for under $20 {and there was also a bottle of creamer that is not pictured}. After coupons, the frozen veggies, animal crackers and yogurt were absolutely FREE and I actually MADE $4.48 just by purchasing the Vivarin and Sominex. I've actually done the Sominex/Vivarin deal a few times and have a nice supply of the two if anyone needs any. I'm thinking that a nursing home might benefit from the Sominex but who uses Vivarin? All that comes to mind is truck drivers and, well, I know no truck drivers.

Maybe you're looking at this last picture and wondering why all the soup or why all the tomato sauce but everything here will probably be gone in just a few days. I can't keep up with the demand in this house. Just this morning, d1 ate two plates of biscuits & gravy along with grits and a smoothie. Oh, that's not all. He also purchased a CFA chicken biscuit at school in the car line. I will admit - I did make him use his Tooth Fairy money for this purchase. What? I provided him a good breakfast. He just eats all.the.time. I've got to draw the line somewhere.

Laughter, Love and Little Girls

Last week was a very L-O-N-G week. I think we already established that much in the last post. Fortunately, this week is not running parallel so that in itself is great news. I've actually found some time recently to just laugh at these boys, d1 in particular. I enjoy writing of these funnies because none of them involved lying or sticky fingers. As one author put it {I can't remember which - Rao, Dobson, Tripp - who knows, I've read so many parenting books at this point and no seems to have my easy guide to raising kids without permanently damaging them}, 'find something to praise them.' This is me praising. Or maybe not so much praising but talking in a positive connotation. Yes, that's a little more accurate. Now, I'm not saying that I struggle ALL the time to find him doing something right. Academically, he rocks it out but it's just some of those 'other' skills that we're trying to fine tune right now.

Now on to the funnies. A couple of nights ago, I was hosting ladies bible study at our house. D1 took d2 to b-ball practice but d1 didn't have a great day at school so he stayed home. His punishment, besides no video games, no TV and no dessert {and believe me, that is the hardest for him to accept} was that he had to help me clean before the girls arrived. Ordinarily this really is a form of discipline for him. He's not a neat freak like his mother - more of the slob type like his father. However, for now, he doesn't view vacuuming as a bad thing so obviously I took full advantage of that. I asked him to specifically focus on the play room and he did awesome, moving all large toys out of the way and using the attachments along the baseboards. I was shocked at his thoroughness, although what reason did he have to rush? Quiet time with his books and bean bag chair? Not really his idea of a party. Anyway, here's where I have to laugh at the boy. As he was working, I ran upstairs for a minute. When I hear the vacuum go off, I asked him what was wrong. He told me he spilled a little water when moving the LittleTikes goal {base full of h20} but that he's cleaning it up and to not worry. Ordinarily this is a red flag but I was feeling glass-half-full. When I got back downstairs, he was on his hands and knees, cleaning the playroom carpet. What a resourceful lad, right? Well sure, I was proud that he didn't just throw a towel over it like I probably did at 6. Instead, I came in to find him using my sink brush, some Bath&BodyWorks handsoap and a wet rag. All fine and great except the brush still had some baked beans stuck to the bristles, the soap was green {note: carpet is beige} and the rag was dirty. So, because he saw a line of water from the goal that he thought was a stain on the carpet {although you readers know that since it was water, it dries CLEAR}, he proceeded to make a mess out of a clean carpet. I couldn't freak out. He was only trying to clean up what he thought was a mess. God love him. I just laughed and started on the real cleaning. A few minutes later, when he had finished all his vacuuming, he said, 'Gosh, Mommy. You're really lucky I couldn't stop talking at school today and had to flip to orange. Who would have helped you clean this house if I would have gone with Daddy?' True statement. Thanks, I guess.

Speaking of orange and school, it did sound like he had an interesting day. When we were eating dinner, he said, 'I had to put tape over my mouth today at school.' Of course my first reaction was, 'WHAT? WHO? EXCUSE ME?' I was just shocked because 1) we LOVE his teacher and it didn't sound like her and 2) you just hear such things in school these days. Don't get me wrong - I would be open to hearing about corporal punishment being reinstated in the school system with some strict guidelines and oversight but that's another story for another day. So as the story unfolds, he tells me that Mrs. H told him that if he thought it would help him to stop talking so that he didn't have to flip another color, he could put tape on his mouth. So he did. According to d1, it didn't work. He could still talk. Well, duh, kid. I also envisioned his friends giggling at him while he's got his mouth all taped shut so I'm not surprised that it was not helpful. In fact, my guess is that it only made things worse.

Although these stories made me laugh this week, there were two that did not. Yesterday he came home and told D1 that he had a girlfriend and that she likes to hold his hand. WHAT.THE.HECK. He is 6, not 16. I am not trying to hear about some little girl wanting to hold MY baby's hand. I just laughed it off and told him that I am all the woman he needs for a very, VERY long time. And then this morning it got worse. I was dropping him off in the car line and, as he's gathering his lunch box and backpack, I turned to him and said, 'Bye, buddy. Have a good day. Give me a kiss.' This is our routine. This is normal. As he was turning to kiss me, some little blonde-haired girl waved at him and that was that. He said, 'No kisses, Mommy.' I was stunned. I realize that I shouldn't be. I realize that this day was eventually bound to come. However, I also realize that this is absolutely, positively heartbreaking. I've always known he's Mr. Independent and that's not necessarily a bad thing but right now, in this moment, it just stinks. Period. I mean, does Little Miss Sunshine who wants to hold his hand also make his sandwiches extra meat, no cheese? What about the notes for his lunch box? Maybe that's a little extreme but darn it, I'm not ready for this and I shouldn't have to share my boys yet. I know I better get a grip on this so that I don't turn into that mother-in-law when he does one day marry at the ripe old age of 40. I've got time. And I'm thinking the betrothing ritual needs to make a comeback - we're surrounded by some great prospects.....

Darnell Family Photos

In my last post, I referenced our shoot and the fact that it could, quite possibly, end up a big, fat FAIL but I was wrong, thank goodness. As it turns out, Lena can work some magic with her camera, even amidst such madness. Here are some of my favs:

Time Traveling

It's 8:43 on a Wednesday night and I'm just now finding the first opportunity to sit down and take a breath. Well, that's not completely accurate, either. For several reasons, I am not breathing well at all these last few days. I think it's mild panic/anxiety, it's been going on for the last five days and I am confident that it is associated with recent events. Let's work backwards, starting with today.

Wednesday - Slept in until 6am, got up, cooked the usual Wednesday breakfast. This week I took requests and obliged the little people with monkey bread. Packed everyone up, dropped d1 off at school, drove in to the office, walked d2 and d3 to their classes, got back to my desk and logged in. As I was taking my last sip of Almond Joy-flavored coffee, I tasted something in my mouth. I pulled it out and studied it. Gosh, it looked a lot like a little people booger. Of course they are different than adults - they're smaller. Obviously. Right then it occurred to me that I had asked d1 to hold my coffee cup when I was getting in the car. No, I don't think he....ok, yes, I do. Beyond that, the work day was fairly normal, really. Things changed, though, when I picked d2 and d3 up from preschool and noticed that d3 is not acting himself. Great. Wonder what sort of nasty parasite he's ingested now. Although he's had a cough for over a month, this is different. As we walked to the car {and since d3 is not battling me to walk alone, I am certain he truly is sick}, I got a text from D1 that d1 had another bad day at school. Lovely. I got home, walked in the door, kicked my shoes off, ran upstairs to talk to d1, called MinuteClinic, gave d3 some Motrin, put shoes back on, took d3 to doc-in-a-box, listened to him verbally assalt the nurse practitioner as she is examining him {'You MEAN!}, received the otitis media diagnosis, filled the script while he loudly filled his diaper in the cough and cold aisle, walked back in the door, gave d3 a bath while listening to D1 drain the other tub and start over with their bath because, yet again, d2 peed in the tub, put all boys to bed and got ready to relax except....oh, wait for it. A couple of weeks ago, I must have been delirious or feeling invincible, or both, and signed up for cupcakes AND, per his request, agreed to make d2's valentines by way of lollicakes. Two dozen of each, to be exact, and tomorrow's the big party. Of course it is. Obviously this wouldn't have been an issue had we not had the last-minute sick visit thrown in the pile but c'mon, man! The cupcakes aren't that hard as they were certainly not elaborate but these lollicakes....geez Louise, people. I'm trying really hard to find times where I can answer 'yes' when the boys ask me to make these types of items because I know it's important to them but next year, if I even utter the words 'homemade' and 'valentine' in the same sentence, feel free to punch me in the face. Seriously. From here on out, it's store bought and tattoo valentines all the way. I'll find other ways to say 'yes.'

Rewinding to the weekend --

Sunday we had our normal routine of church and lunch and then had a special treat of our family photo shoot with Lena Poulos. We won this free shoot in a contest with our 'classy' Christmas card picture so since it was a beautiful spring-like day in February, we headed to a local park for some outdoor shots. Oh. My. Gosh. I can't say it was a total disaster because I haven't seen the pictures yet but I can only hope that she was able to snap a few that she can work with in between d2's sneezes that resulted in massive snot rockets to the near misses of the boys falling into the fountain. And then there was the non-stop, never-ending fight over the ball that Lena brought as a prop. She was just trying to help the situation. She just didn't realize that I birthed the Hammer Brothers. I wanted to take a knife to that ball after 10 minutes because all they did was fight over it. Really? You couldn't care less about the 47 balls that you have at home so why now? Really? I just wanted thirty minutes, an hour at the most, of cooperation to which I got maybe 3 or 4 minutes. d3 wanted absolutely, positively nothing to do with looking at the camera so if she got a good family shot and he's not in it, so be it. And one day I'll tell him why. Or I suppose I just did.

Backing up further to Saturday -- after the normal morning full of basketball, we made some stops at the grocery store and another local store. As we came out of the last store, I noticed chocolate all over d1's face. I was confused because I didn't remember us giving him anything. It's because we didn't - he TOOK a chocolate coin from the second store. And by took, I mean he stole. There, I said it. My 6-year-old is a clepto. Yes, I was ticked but the fact that he had chocolate all over his face did make me laugh, temporarily anyway. I mean, he can't even steal without making a mess. So, of course, we sent him back in to pay for his item but not before he realized that he broke the law and he might go to jail. Though we knew the truth, we didn't argue. He needed to worry. And he howled, 'I DON'T WANT TO GO TO JAIL.' Thankfully, the lady was very kind, he paid for it and apologized. As we drove home, we talked to him about how very wrong it is and explained that there will be consequences for his actions. When we got home, D1 took him upstairs, talked to him further, and told him to remove his coat so that he could take care of his spankings. d1 said, 'No thank you, I'll leave it on.' After going back and forth a few times, it occurs to D1 that he is hiding something. That something was a package of chocolate donuts from BiLo. Unbe-flippin-lievable. And so the shoes went back on, the coat went back on and D1 took d1 back to BiLo to return the stolen merchandise. Once again, d1 bawled, prayed and pleaded, 'God, PLEASE don't let them take me to jail! PLEASE!' Because I wasn't really sure how to handle this problem, I called BiLo and talked to their staff, explained what happened and actually asked for a manager to put the fear of the Lord into my child when he came in to return the donuts and that's exactly what she did. {Side note: D1 didn't know I called so imagine his surprise when this manager layed into d1....} When they returned home, he ate lunch {'No, you may not have another corn dog. You don't get seconds in jail.'}, went to his room {where all he could do was read and sleep}, came out for dinner, and went back to his room for the night. Throughout the day, D1 and I would go up and spend a few minutes with him, sharing some scripture that addresses lying and stealing and praying with him. Some time last year, we purchased an awesome book called Parenting with Scripture and it has been a wonderful tool. In this last week alone, we have referred to it several times for guidance and am certain more times like these are in our future. Here's hoping we won't need the section on stealing again. Until now, I haven't told many about this. I guess I was embarrassed, though anyone I have told says how normal it is but that's not how I felt. My first thought was, 'What are we doing wrong? Where have we failed him?' It's true, I still struggle with those thoughts but I know that, ultimately, I need to hand over my worries to God. Do my part as his mother, set an example and use those teachable moments wisely but in the end, God has to transform his heart and I'm just here merely as a guide. No one EVER told me how hard this parenting thing really is but we are definitely getting a good taste of the challenges.

Any question on my anxiety issues right now? I didn't think so. Wouldn't a Xanax help me? Or a Valium? I've never had either one but I've heard good things....


Oh wait, I forgot something else about this morning. Post breakfast, pre-booger scene. Just before D1 left for school, I asked him to corral d1 and d2. They were, at that particular moment, fighting over who has the bigger weenie. Or rather, whose was NOT the smallest. I made D1 get them under control and when I was in the kitchen, I heard, 'No more weenie talk. They are both big enough.' You're jealous of me right now, aren't you? I know. It's okay. I'm a lucky girl.

Whew!

We survived basketball season. Hallelujah! Monday night was D1's last game so as I was driving home yesterday afternoon, I honestly felt a weight had been lifted. A week ago, I had a million thoughts rolling through my mind. Who's getting d1 from afterschool? Will there be enough time to feed the boys dinner before practice? Will the milk still be on the counter from breakfast? Did the maid drop by today and fold my laundry piles? {Oh wait, that's right. I'm the maid. Dang it.} Instead, this car ride I was free of the what-who-where thoughts and just enjoying the ride home. When we walked in, my gorgeous husband was standing in the kitchen, cooking up some weinerwinks {his personal specialty} and finishing up a load of dishes. It was such a beautiful sight. I promise to try and not take him for granted.

As for little people sports, we're winding down the basketball season and jumping right into spring sports. d1 will be playing coach pitch baseball again {and guess who's coaching?} while d2 is going to try out his skills on the soccer field. I would like to think that this year will be easier than last with the squirmy d3 but I'm not getting my hopes up, especially when the kid is almost faster than me. Okay, he pretty much already is. I mean, I know I'm getting old and not as quick as I might have been 10 years ago but this child has some crazy speed. I'm not sure how, given the pot belly he's been sporting for awhile, but I turn away for a second and he's G.O.N.E.

Nevermind his speed, how about this 2-year-old attitude he's got going on? What is that all about? The boy has taken on some dictator role and I'm not real fond of it. He points that finger at me and tells me, 'NO NO!' or '(s)TOP!' His latest meltdowns come when I try to put a coat/jacket on him. I know, what a travesty. How dare I think I should keep him warm. And for whatever reason, he seems to want to face off most in the hallway of his preschool. I'm not sure if he has some territorial issues or he thinks maybe his teacher 'got his back' but it gets ugly. Our most recent showdown after work had me chasing his chunky little self down the hallway in my new {$6.24} heels from Target. These new aforementioned heels are a tid bit slippery and I nearly lost my balance but grabbed a table before completely wiping out. He just rolled around on the floor while I worked to zip the coat, as parents just stepped over and around us. Doctors, nurses, a wide variety of spectators. Ah, yes. Memories. The ones I hope to repress one day in therapy.

A Little Humor On This Wednesday

Thank you, d3, for the late night concert. One thing I am sure of is that you are not a quitter. One day I will appreciate that characteristic. I will be proud of you when you persevere in life and refuse to give up. Today is not that day.





Keep in mind that there will come a time where you will be taking care of me. Even if the memory goes in my old age, I'll always have this blog to remind me......