Thursday, November 29, 2007

Centipede City

Our house sits on critter heaven. We've battled snakes, spiders, and a lizard comes to visit in our window well daily. Did I mention we also have visiting centipedes? Doc finds the occasional centipede in the basement and does the usual spraying till they suffocate. Then he likes to bring me his prize and talk about how big and nasty it was. One time, I took Happy into the downstairs bathroom to give him his bath. There was a bowl sitting in the tub and I picked it up just as Happy was sitting down. Cowering underneath the bowl, was a humongous centipede and it was going straight toward my little boy's hind end. Since I was not expecting this little surprise, I was caught off-guard. Since I am also a girl, I did the usual screaming of the lungs as well. "Ahh, ahh, ahh!" came out a few times before I was able to grab a hold of my senses and my son. Since there had been a few seconds of hysteria, Happy was able to get a good look at the thing. "Worm in the tub, Mama!" Yeah. No kidding. Now every time I take him in there for his bath, Happy looks in the tub to make sure all is clear and announces, "No worm in tub, Mama," just to reassure me and maybe even himself. The kid will never get in there again without thinking twice.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

I Tell Mama

It was interesting to see my husband and our two-year-old interact without me as a mediator. They both have a strong will and sometimes it tends to clash. Since I was relegated to the bedroom with our newborn baby, my husband had the duties of cooking, cleaning, and babysitting for a week. Many times that week, I heard the usual screaming and crying from Aidan and my husband dealt with it swiftly and efficiently. At one point, though, Aidan stomps up the stairs crying and goes into his room. Our bathroom is situated right next to his room and since I was in there, I was able to hear his ranting. I heard, "I tell Mama! I tell Mama!" in a pathetic, feel-sorry-for-me voice. It's hard not to laugh and feel sorry for the little termagent.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Resolute Protector of Men

When I was twelve years old, my mother's cousin brought her new baby for a visit. I was drawn to that little person like a moth to a flame. I was the firstborn of four children and already a little mother. I had my baby dolls and Barbie dolls, tea sets and doll house, but this was a REAL baby that I was allowed to feed and change. I remember lovingly doing these things during their visit and then as time went by they had to leave. I keenly felt my empty arms and went looking for my mother. We usually had our "woman to woman" chats in the bathroom and that's where I found her putting things away. With my heart in my eyes, I begged her to have another baby so I could take care of him or her. She sat down on the toilet seat and gently broke the news that she was done having babies. With tears rolling down my cheeks and my heart breaking, I heard her tell me that soon I will be able to have my own baby to love and hold. I love the newborn stage. It's my favorite and probably why I keep having babies. This part of my baby's life is so short and so precious. I love the feel of newborn skin. There is nothing softer. I love all of the funny expressions he makes from confusion to wonder. I love to watch him sleep and study the fine details of his face. Of course, to me, he is the most beautiful baby in the world. Again, I have become a young girl with my own little baby doll. We are never apart. During this time, many women get the baby blues. For me, it's a time of joyful thanksgiving and also sadness. Sadness because someday I will have to say goodbye to the days of childbearing. Right now, I bask in the blessing that God has given me. As I kiss his tiny cheek, feel his silky hair, and count his baby toes, I say, "Thank you, God, for my little Liam."

Friday, November 9, 2007

Candy Stash

As I bite into a luscious Reese's peanut butter cup, I have one thought in my mind. Thank you, Lord, that none of my children have food allergies. Otherwise, I would not be able to steal some of the candy bars from their Halloween candy stash. I would normally consider myself a meat and potatoes kind of gal. I would rather eat roast and mashed potatoes than candy any day. There comes a time, though, in every woman's life when eating chocolate becomes a must. Yesterday, I grabbed the pumpkin full of candy, locked the bathroom door, filled the tub with hot water, and luxuriated in a chocolate fest. It had to be done. May I say that Snickers is the best candy bar ever? Of course, Reese's comes in a very close second. Peanut butter and chocolate were made for each other. I was a bit disappointed to see no Butterfinger bars at all. What's up with that? Aidan probably noticed the less than full pumpkin because he brought me an empty one and told me that we need to get back in the car and go trick or treating again. I totally understand. So, what's your favorite candy bar?

Thursday, November 8, 2007

38 Weeks and Counting

Tuesday afternoon, I had my first false labor ever. I've never had false labor. It sucks. When I thought the baby was coming, all of a sudden adrenaline shot through my body and I began to shake from head to toe. I was excited and ready to go. My husband jumped up and starting doing what husbands do when they know their wife is about to give birth. He was going to make sure I made it to the hospital no matter what. We got the kids ready to go and told them to go outside and play. For some reason, the contractions were not progressing. I thought it was odd and decided to pace for a while hoping that would help things along. The boys came in to eat hot dogs and went out again. Still nothing was really happening. So, I decided to eat something since I hadn't eaten since breakfast. After that, the contractions were gone for good. That left us all utterly depressed. I was hoping to finally hold this little baby, my husband was hoping to meet him, too, of course, but also to get out of work, and the boys were hoping to get out of school. Ever since then, they've all been staring at my stomach and making comments such as, "I hope the baby comes soon," "You need to get up and start walking," "When is he coming?" I jokingly become irate with them all saying, "I'M the one who has had this baby in me for NINE MONTHS and I am more than ready for him to come out!" Just a few more days and I will be 39 weeks. That's when Aidan had decided to join us. If this baby decides to wait longer than that, I'm going to the hospital, bang on the doors, and demand that they do something. It's hard not to go insane with the waiting when I get a whiff of baby lotion or Dreft. Watching baby stories on TLC, is just stupid. As I see the baby lifted and put on the mother's stomach, I want to shake my fists at the TV and growl in the agony of impatience. I know I will call myself an idiot when I am going through the nightmare of pain bringing this child into this world, but that will only be for a short while. I keep telling myself, "Soon. Soon he will be here." It just better be before Thanksgiving.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007


Last week, I thought my brain was going to explode into a million pieces. At the worst possible time in my life, I got a jury duty summons. Now, most of you might not think that was something to panic over. Some of you might even say, "Yippee! I get paid for this!" Me? I hate even the thought of jury duty. In the good ole state of Colorado, there is no job exemption from this duty. That means homeschool moms, too. How asinine. Why do they think we are homeschool moms in the first place? Don't they realize we are the only caregivers of our children and that our husbands would have to take the day off to take care of them while we sit on our butts in a courthouse? No, I do not like jury duty. I had asked my son to be my legs for me and go get the mail from the mailbox at the end of the drive. He came back in with it all and I slowly went through it. When I came to the jury duty summons, I thought I was seeing things. I did a double take. I immediately ripped it open looking for the part that says homeschool moms are exempt from this atrocious duty. Slowly realizing that there is no such part, the first stage of my panic began. I called the jury duty commissioner. I explained to her that I was very pregnant and by the time I have to show up I will have a very new baby. She told me to get a doctor's excuse and send it in. So, that day I went to see my midwife. She graciously gave me the excuse and I put it in my purse. Following that, I had to take Nat to his bagpipe lessons. We had a little time to kill, so Caleb decided to come and sit in the front seat. Unknowingly to me, he had kicked the doctor's excuse onto the floor of the van. I grabbed my purse from him since he was sitting on it and looked inside to make sure the paper was still safe and sound. When I didn't see it in the purse, on the seat, or between the seats, I looked out the open window. That's when I had a hormonally pregnant breakdown. I told the boys to get out of the van and look for it outside. The poor kids looked everywhere while I roamed the parking lot in the van with tears running down my cheeks. I'm sure the people who saw me thought I needed a Xanax. I even thought I needed a Xanax. I stopped the van to have a good cry even though I knew it was probably freaking out my two youngest ones. During my crying jag, I looked down at the floor one more time and saw a piece of paper. I turned it over and what do you know. Feeling like a fool, I let the boys know I had found it and Nat went in for his lesson. The next day, I made sure I had mailed the doctor's excuse before the mail carrier came and even bothered the jury commissioner again by emailing her and asking that she let me know if I am exempt from this duty. I put it at the back of my mind and yesterday received her reply that I am indeed exempt from this with a good excuse. Duh. A week after the episode in the van, Justin was still talking about Mommy crying in the van.

Monday, November 5, 2007

A Big Family

When you know you have a big family:

1) You come downstairs with two of your children and make them breakfast. The two-year-old is talking at the top of his lungs. You say, "Shhh! Be quiet! EVERYONE is sleeping."

2) You go through four gallons of milk a week.....and you know it's only going to get worse.

3) Your grocery bill is sky high....and you know it's only going to get worse.

4) You have to plung your toilets twice a week.

5) Your laundry room looks like Mt. Everest.

6) You need an entire room just for the stuffed animals.

7) You count heads in public places to make sure you are not losing someone.

8) You start barricading certain rooms in the house to keep them clean.

9) Mr. Clean Magic Erasers and Murphy's Oil Soap have become your best friends.

10) You realize that this will not last forever and hope to cherish every moment of it.

Friday, November 2, 2007

Absent-Minded Family

Our poor sons are doomed to be absentminded for the rest of their lives. It's in the genes. Both of their parents are prone to this and it will only get worse as we get older. If I don't put the van keys in a certain place, I will have to go ransacking the house for them. My husband is the same way with his eyeglasses. All of our sons will have this problem, but with Caleb it seems he has inherited a double shot. In my post Sliding Doors, Caleb leaves the van door open for the whole world to see. This occurrence hasn't happened in some time, but on Halloween night, it made its appearance again. I feel it was bound to happen again when he was thinking about something else. We had decided to meet Daddy for dinner and went to a fast food restaurant. We got our food, sat down, and started enjoying the high-fat, high-cholesterol yumminess. At one point, I looked out the window and immediately gasped. There was our van with the door wide open yet again. "Caleb! I told you to shut the door before we came inside!" Everyone gets up and looks out the window. My husband immediately leaves and we all watch him as he shuts the door and comes back in. After dinner, we go trick or treating. Of course, the boys had a blast and by 7:30pm, I was ready to take my big belly and go home. I took two boys and my husband took the two oldest to do more trick or treating and we went our separate ways. We all got home safe and sound and my husband went to work the next day. When my husband arrived home from work, he announced that the van door was wide open. We all looked at each other with puzzled looks. We hadn't gone anywhere. So, the issue of the van door may never be resolved.