• Oct. 16, 2007
Beware of the dolphin swing!

You know, if it can happen, it will happen at my house.  I just rescued my 6 year old from a trip to the emergency room to have a baby swing cut off from her body!  Over the weekend, my brother-in-law kindly brought us two baby swings that they didn't use anymore.  One is the little red plastic seat that everyone thinks of when they think "baby swing."  The other was a different beast altogether, literally.  It is a blue Little Tikes baby swing that looks like a dolphin.  It has quite an appealing look to it, apparently even to a 6 year old.

Around here, we've learned that it's pretty important to have a general idea what Darcy is doing *at* *all* *times*!!!   Well, this time, I didn't know.  I didn't know because I was trying to stop the bleeding from my own hand after I cut it.  I cut myself while cutting fake fur fabric that is about a 1/2 a mile thick.  The fake fur is for a lamb costume for Lily.  But, I digress.

Darcy took advantage of the situation and decided that she would take a swing in the new baby swing.  The dolphin must have also been part siren, because I'm sure it was irresistably calling Darcy's name.  Odysseus himself could not have resisted.  She took the red one down, and put the dolphin one up.  The dolphin swing doesn't have long enough ropes, which is why the ones of us with a little more foresight determined that the dolphin swing, as cute as it is, would be unsuitable for Lily the way that it is.  Obviously, Darcy's foresight is a little short-sighted!!  She put up the dolphin swing and put herself into it.  She was delighted.  For all of 2 minutes, I'm sure.  Then she realized that she was stuck.  Stuck bad.  Now, Darcy is what you would call a "solid" little girl.  She is quite muscular and very "sturdy."  She weighs about 70 pounds.  I cannot lift her.  I cannot carry her.  The plot thickens.   

I heard Darcy hollering at the top of her lungs, "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYY" 

 I went to the window to see her sitting in the dolphin swing which was between 4 and 5  feet off the ground.  At that moment, I knew this was NOT a good thing.  "Oh, great."  I went out and attempted to extricate my daughter from the death grip of the dolphin swing.  I couldn't lift her high enough and she could not pull her legs out.  The dolphin snickered.  Hmmm.  We tried to put her feet against the ledge of the swingset platform and let her push her legs out.  Bad angle, it hurt.  The dolphin sneered.  Try again, Mom.  I had to call Josh to come and help.  Josh told Darcy to grab onto the beam that the swing hangs from and then pull herself out.  We lifted her high enough to grab the beam.  She hung there.  The dolphin, with its insideous smile, stayed put.  We pulled on the dolphin.  It would not budge.  I think it even turned its head around and tried to bite me.

Be still my heart.  I had to concentrate on my breathing now because I realized that this was more serious than I first thought.  I had visions of having to cart my daughter to the emergency room with a dolphin wrapped around her legs.  This is not a pretty picture.  How would I get her inside the ER?  She couldn't walk and I couldn't carry her.  I would need a wheelbarrow for sure.  Oh, wouldn't that be a riot to everyone in the ER?  Can you imagine the stories they could tell their families?  "Honey, you'll never believe what rolled into the ER today!!"  Ok, I don't know if I could suffer through this humiliation.  Gotta keep trying.

We told Darcy to grab the beam again.  While she hung there, we unhooked the ropes from the beam.  Then Josh helped me lower Darcy down to the ground.  She was able to stand on her feet, but that dumb dolphin just stayed put, grinning the whole time.  He was definitely enjoying this.  Josh stood in front of Darcy and I stood behind her.  On the count of three, we both pushed downward.  Darcy screamed.  It hurt.  I was afraid that if we pushed too hard, we might break her legs.  I would bet money that I heard that dolphin giggle.  That swing was going nowhere.  I started to panic again.  I really did not want to have to wheelbarrow my child anywhere!  It suddenly dawned on me to send Josh back to the house to get some vegetable oil.  He came back and we slathered up one leg with veggie oil, both sides.  I could see that her legs were getting red.  I was afraid that they might begin to swell.  That would not be a good thing.  I tried to move the dolphin up and down with the oil.  No way, no how.  I began to pray.  As much as that dolphin was grinning from ear to ear, I'll bet God was chuckling a little bit Himself.  We must amuse Him constantly with the things we get ourselves into.  I slathered up the other leg, both sides.  Josh and I again counted to three.  We again tried to wiggle and force that dolphin down.  No going.

I sent Megan in to get the phone.  I needed backup.  I was going to call Danny.  What would I say?  "Um, Darcy's been swallowed by a dolphin and we can't get her out"?  Shades of Jonah here.  I know he would just die laughing at this one.  This was even funnier than when I called him and had to ask, "Where are the keys to the handcuffs?"  (Zak's handcuffs and guess who found them and modeled the new "jewelry"?)  Before I called Danny, I thought I would try one more time.  If this oil didn't work, I was fresh out of ideas.  We had to wiggle and jiggle quite forcefully, but finally, that dolphin let go of Darcy's legs.

Apparently, when the manufacturers say, "Intended for children 3 and under" they mean it.   

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• Oct. 15, 2007
Weekends are just too short

Weekends are just too short, especially when you are spending it with someone you love dearly, but don't get to see often enough.  My brother-in-law brought his family to visit us this weekend.  They live about 5 hours away from us, so we truly don't get to see them often.  They have 6 kids.  It was so much fun to have a house of 17 people running around (understand that 13 of those people are kids!)  They weren't able to get in until about 11pm Friday night.  Once they got their van unloaded, Danny and I hung out with Mark and Lisa until about 2am. 

Saturday morning we had a wonderful brunch of scrambled eggs, bacon, and 2 kinds of pancakes (lemon and raspberry)!!   Lisa helped me get it all cooked and on the table.  The kids kind of came in and ate in shifts.  Saturday afternoon, Danny and Mark took the boys to pick up a hot tub that Danny had done barter work for.  I'm so excited to be getting this!!  He still has to get the electrical heavied up outside so we can actually use it, but it's a nice hot tub and one of these days it will be so good to have a nice long soak!  We had a great dinner at the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.  You should have seen Darcy's eyes water when she tried the spicy shrimp!!  The boys stayed up til 5:30am playing X-box, which kept them delighted!  It's so funny to see my 2 boys with Lisa's older 3 boys.  They are like brothers, all of them together.  They get along well, but they fuss at each other like brothers too, even though they're cousins.  I'm so SO glad they are close.  The little kids played well together too.  Lisa and I spent the afternoon enjoying each other's company.  It's just SO nice to have her around and I miss her when it's been too long between visits. 

Saturday night we rented a movie and really had fun watching it together.  Sunday morning we all got up and got to church in time for the 11:30 service.  Mark and Lisa really enjoyed our new church and I was happy to hear their input afterwards.  They kind of confirmed that the things I've been feeling are not just in my head.  We're SO fortunate to have found such a fantastic church to jump into!  Sunday afternoon, Tara and David wanted to watch football (so did I!!!)  and everyone was just kind of in and out doing whatever they wanted.  It was great!!  But, sadly, all good things must end and they had to leave to go home.  Next time they just need to stay longer!!  We all had a wonderful visit.  I'm so incredibly thankful for the family I am part of. 

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• Oct. 11, 2007
Mud Wrestling Champions of the World!

Sometimes I think I'm too far removed from my own childhood.  I can't, for the life of me, remember why mud is so irresistably fun to play in.  I do remember making mud pies as a little girl, and I do remember the day my brother came home covered from head-to-toe in mud.  Somehow, it was so much funnier on that day, watching him try to hide behind the bushes when he saw my dad driving down the street toward our house.  He was truly covered; every inch of him.  That was the scene today at my house.  Today, it just did not seem as funny as it did back then. 

No one knows who started it.  Actually, I do know.  It was my secret child.  Everyone who sees my family believes I have 7 children.  They are wrong, woefully wrong.  I have secret children.  Truly, I have 8, maybe 9 children.  I must have given birth to these children in a state of complete amnesia.  I do not remember laboring nor delivering these children, but truly, they live in my house as much as all the other children who live here.  One of these was the child who started the mudfight today.  The first secret child's name is Notme.  Any time I ask my kids who started something, they always blame this particular sibling.  If they don't blame poor little Notme, they blame the other one, whose name is Idaknow.  So, now I have it narrowed down to the two most troublesome siblings in the household.  It was either started by Notme or by Idaknow, who seem to be the only ones to start trouble in my household.  The other children are practically perfect in every way!

Regardless of who started it, Megan and Darcy gleefully covered each other in mud.  Megan came into the house looking like The Thing from the Fantastic 4.  I just stood in my kitchen with my mouth agape, staring at my giggling, mud-crusty, little girl. 

"Uh, I need to wash my hands, Mom."  (WASH YOUR HANDS???????  Um, hello, that's probably the cleanest part of your body at the moment.) 

"No, dear, you need to get into the tub.  Where's Darcy?" 

"She's coming." 

(Dare I ask?)  "Does she look just like you?" 

"Uh, well...........yeah."

Oh, great.  I've already got 5 pounds of mud in my kitchen sink and that's only from one little girl.  Darcy came in looking every bit like The Thing as well, and I just sent her straight to the tub.  It's moments like these that my mind rings with the verses from I Corinthians 16:13-14, "Be on your guard, be strong in the faith, be men [moms] of courage, be strong.  Do everything in love."  Love, huh?  What I really wanted to do was to scrub those two little girls until their skin was as red as the mud they were covered with.  I decided it would be better to call Rachel to come and help them.  She did.  After they got out of the tub, I was able to rejoice in the fact that I hadn't had a chance to clean the bathroom today like I had planned.  Now, I have the total and complete joy of cleaning an additional 15 pounds of mud out of my tub as well as the normal bathtub ring left by the previous baths of this week.

I try to keep in mind that, as my great-grandmother used to say, "This too shall pass."  But, maybe I don't want it to pass too quickly.  Someday, it will just be me and Danny.  I will be able to find things, because they will be where they are supposed to be.  The laundry will be manageable.  The house will stay clean.  The house will be quiet.  I think it will be too quiet.  With that in mind, I can get past the mud-wrestling championship of the day with a smile.  In fact, someday it will be a funny story to tell around the table at Thanksgiving.  And as for today?  It's only mud.  The memory of those two giggling little girls looking like they did?  Priceless.     

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• Oct. 10, 2007
Pink-a-dink, stinky ink!

Don't you just love it when you have the sheer delight and utter joy of facing the consequences of someone else's IN-actions?  Last week, my mom came and we did some shopping.  Zak, especially, needed new jeans.  I don't know if this boy has a personal shredder hidden somewhere in his room, but he simply cannot go more than a month without having his jeans look like they were attacked by Freddie Krueger.  They end up with slashes and rips, never in the same place as the last pair of jeans.  Makes me wonder what type of secret life he's living when I'm not looking!  Maybe we shouldn't have let him get those throwing stars after all.

So, anyway, we got Zak a couple of pairs of new jeans.  The guy running the register seemed to be pretty flustered because we wanted him to ring up our purchases separately.  Mom had envelopes of cash for the kids.  We were paying for new stuff for Zak, and for Josh and were exchanging stuff for Megan and Darcy that we had gotten the day before.  We were beside the kitchen department and there were some really cool 16 quart stock pots on sale.  They didn't have prices.  I was asking about those.  The baby was tired and was not making her typically delightful happy sounds.  Mom was asking about other discounts.  Megan and Darcy were playing ring around the rosy, LOUDLY.  Needless to say, we sent the guy into overload.

  Today, Zak put on one of his new pairs of jeans only to find that the little security button on the bottom had not been removed.  "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!"  hmmm, okay, how do we deal with this one?  The security button said not to mess with it or we would be doused with ink and it would cause us bodily harm.  My choices were to hold onto the jeans and try to get over to the mall to have the button removed, or to try it myself and risk physically maiming myself.  I'm thinking this thing must be rigged like those ink-dye packs they put in money from bank robberies.  How much force is in those things anyway?  Nothing out of the ordinary has happened here in a couple of days.  This could prove to be a bit of an adventure.  I'm not usually known for doing things the easy way and this definitely had the earmarks of a challenge, so I decided to risk the maiming.  Not sure what that says about me, nor am I sure I want to dwell upon it. 

I started wiggling the security button and noticed that if I pulled straight up on it, it loosened.  I got it pretty far apart without losing an eye, so I thought we were going to be okay.  Then my nose determined that all was NOT well in Denmark.  What they don't tell you on the security button is that this ink stinks to high heaven!!!!  I thought the dogs had chased a skunk into the kitchen.  Then again, maybe it was just the dogs themselves.  They really are in desperate need of a bath now anyway.  At this point, green ink was oozing out from the button, covering my fingers.  It was smelling more and more pungent by the second.  This stuff was really strong.  It was entirely possible that I might pass out on the floor any second.  Whoever created this stuff must be a viciously cruel person.  How does one create stinky smells anyway?  Actually, I could probably ask my own kids that question.  I called to Zak to get some wire cutters.  He was able to cut through the metal pin and we got the thing apart.  I immediately took the jeans and put them in the washer (which for some reason has decided to stop spewing water all over my laundry room--at least for the time being) and I washed my hands in the hottest water I could tolerate.  We'll see if the ink comes out of his jeans or not. 

So, here's a word to the wise.  If someone forgets to remove your security button from your clothes, just take it back to the mall and have them remove it for you.  Your nose will thank you!  

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• Oct. 8, 2007
A tiger by the tail, or maybe the other way around!

I haven't been here for awhile and for that, I apologize.  Life just gets busy sometimes.  It's not at all that I haven't had anything to write about.  Quite the contrary.  There's probably been TOO MUCH to write about.  In the week-plus that I've been AWOL, things just went into over-drive.  There are definitely times that I feel I have a tiger by the tail and I'm just hanging on for dear life.  AND, as good ole' Baloo from The Jungle Book says about having a tiger by the tail, "There's TEETH on the other end!"  Maybe I don't have the tiger by the tail like I think I do, maybe the tiger has me by my back-end, teeth firmly clenched. 

So, here is a not-so-brief rundown of my life in the past week since I've been here:

Rachel ran out of gas on her way to school (happened to be a morning that I was NOT home) and Tara had to go and rescue her.  Not two days later Rachel's car began to overheat and had to be taken to the shop (can you say: Intake Manifold?)  Tara went to Pittsburgh for some burger-something-or-other competition with the restaurant she works for.  After Tara got home and we got Rachel's car back, Tara's car began to overheat as well.  Personally, I think Rachel's car told Tara's car that it had the MOST delightful time at that car "spa" it had just been to and that Tara's car just HAD to go too!  So, now Tara's car is in the shop.  It really DOES have to be a conspiracy.  I've started going to Curves 3 days a week to lose that last pesky 450 pounds I've gained from the last 20 years of child-bearing.  Zak got his stitches out.  Lily also went to the doctor to be checked out for a tick bite.  This was the teeniest-tiniest tick you ever saw and I was concerned about Lyme disease.  She checked out just fine.  Did you know that if you pull a tick off of someone and store it in alcohol, you can have it sent to a lab for analysis?  Well, now you do!  Josh had 2 birthday parties to go to.  Zak decided, spur-of-the-moment, to invite a bunch of guys over for an all-night Halo 3 tournament, at OUR house, of course.  My mom came and we shopped til we dropped for 2 days straight.  Now, all God's chillun's got shoes!!  In fact, I even got a new pair of sneakers that I found on sale for $3. 

Danny and I were supposed to go to NYC for a wedding, which is the reason my mom came, but at the last minute we couldn't go.  The washing machine decided (right when my mom came, of course) to spring a leak and spew thousands and thousands of gallons of water all over the floor of the laundry room EVERY time we did a load of laundry.  Now, have you ever seen a family of 9 that can go for very long WITHOUT doing laundry?  This is not a good thing.  So, off to the laundromat with 287 loads of laundry we went.  Can the laundromat be counted as a field-trip?  I think so.  We had to dig through the garbage looking for Rachel's insulin (which we found, thankfully) AFTER we had literally torn up the rest of the house looking for it.  The lawnmower saga continues and we are again without a fully-functioning lawnmower.  However, because we have had negative 4 inches of rain this summer, the grass doesn't really grow much.  This could be a good thing.  I spent a good 3 hours cleaning out Zak's bedroom and you can actually SEE THE FLOOR now!!  Actually, I don't know if it was really a GOOD 3 hours, but it was 3 hours that I would have liked to have spent elsewhere.  Darcy tried to give the baby a piggy-back ride, not realizing that Lily doesn't know how to hold on, and Lily fell off Darcy's back and hit her head on the sidewalk, giving her a nice goose-egg on the back of her head.  Danny took over 2 tons of garbage to the free dump (and no, it was not all household garbage, although I do believe that my kids CAN create this much garbage in about 2 hours.)  We took my dad out to dinner to celebrate his 65th birthday.  And we had to call poison control because Lily decided to take a swig of fingernail polish remover before church.  And a partridge in a pear tree!

Wow,  and that was just the stuff that I could REMEMBER!!  I know that there are things which happen in my house of which I am blissfully unaware, or things that happen that just don't register in my brain on a conscious level.  Plenty of fodder for the blog, to be sure.  I just didn't have the creative energy to write it all out.  Plus, I feel really guilty getting on the computer when my mom is here.  She never sits down.  I don't think I've EVER seen my mom just sit and rest.  Somehow, I didn't inherit that gene.  But, when she's here, it just feels wrong to have some "play-time" on the computer while she's running around my house cleaning stuff.  So, you decide.  Do *I* have a tiger by the tail, or does it have me?  :o) 

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• Sep. 27, 2007
The Halo effect

Funny how our kids can change their behavior at will, yet insist that they cannot.  My son, Josh, was a prime example of this yesterday.  Josh and his older brother have literally been counting down the days (for the past few months) until Halo 3 would be released.  Early in the summer, they were fortunate to find a great deal on a used X-Box 360, which caused them to work with great excitement and fervor so that they could earn enough money to buy said X-Box.  The primary purpose of buying the 360 was so that they would be able to play Halo 3 when it was released.

Halo 3 was released on Tuesday, September 25.  For some reason, my dear Joshua believed that he was entitled to purchase this item, simply because it existed.  No, my dear boy.  On that day, he was sweet and delightful, UNTIL.........I told him that his older sister would NOT be taking him to Wal-Mart in the afternoon.  At that point, my son turned into Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan, and every other uncivilized barbarian of a man that you can think of.  It was miserable to inhabit space within 100 square miles of the boy.  That simply added to his predicament.

On Wednesday morning, unbeknownst to me, my husband had told Josh that if he got the grass cut and did a lot to "help Mom" around the house, he would take Josh to get Halo after work.  I woke up and discovered a different boy living under my roof.  He was delightful all day!  He was helpful, and even offered to help when Zak refused.  This NEVER happens!!!!  I was astonished.  I naively thought that I had somehow gotten through to him with my lecture the day before.  I could not have been more wrong.  Who knew the boy could turn it on as easily as he can turn it off?

We have had a lawnmower saga going on all summer long and yesterday was no exception.  The lawnmower repairman brought back a fixed lawnmower (again) and Josh attempted to cut the grass with it.  However, the belt fell off (again) and the mower wouldn't mow.  Neither Josh, nor Zak could reattach the belt, so the lawnmower sat in the yard.  Dad came home and was NOT happy to see the lawnmower sitting in the middle of 450 square miles of 6 foot deep, uncut grass.  Okay, so it's only 4 acres and 6 inches high, but it might as well be more when the lawnmower won't work (all summer long!!)  Taking a look at the lawnmower only served to increase his frustration with the boys when Danny figured out how to put the belt back on.  Josh started cutting again, only to have the lawnmower run out of gas.  Murphy's law, right?

As soon as Danny told Josh that because the yard wasn't cut he would not be going to get Halo, I thought the world was going to end.  Oh, the wailing and gnashing of teeth!  It was of Biblical proportions.  But, being the good dad that he is, Danny told Josh to look for the gas can.  It had a little gas left in it.  Josh asked if he could stay home and cut while Danny went to get more gas.  There was hope for Josh yet!  When Danny got home, Josh was angelic.  He was told that it was too late to go out.  The forlorn look on Josh's face!!  Danny told Josh to go out to his truck and get something from the front seat.  Imagine Josh's surprise when he found the much anticipated HALO 3 on the seat!!  Now he is allowed to play for an hour at a time ("WHAT???? ONLY AN HOUR?????")  Yep, I wanna keep this Halo effect going as long as I can.  I like those boys with Halo hanging over their heads! 

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• Sep. 26, 2007
The little things mean a lot

You know, it is totally amazing that God cares about the little things in our lives.  You know, even the ridiculously miniscule things in our lives.  I have been thinking about getting a new Bible for about a week and a half.  I wanted to get an ESV (English Standard Version.)  I was told that the ESV is more word for word accurate, based on the Greek.  Ok.  Someone quoted me some Scripture from the ESV and I liked the translation better as compared to my NIV.  So, I was in the market for an ESV.  Not in a hurry.  My absolute favorite color in the whole world is hot pink.  I cannot get enough hot pink in my life!  I thought I would try to do a search online and see if I could possibly find someone on the Internet somewhere who was selling a hot pink ESV Bible.  Only thing is that I didn't get a chance to do it. 

Fast forward to Sunday morning.  The church that we've been going to has a bookstore.  We wandered in there after the service because we wanted to buy a particular praise CD for the little girls.  I went looking for the section with bibles, but couldn't find one.  No big deal.  So, we were standing in line to buy the CD for the little girls and I noticed a very small section of bibles to the left of the register.  I hadn't seen that before.  AND, what do I spy on the bottom shelf, but a gorgeous hot pink leather ESV thinline Bible!!!!!   It has beautiful floral tooling on the front and back covers.  Here's what it looks like:

You know, I just find it amazing that God would so easily allow me to find such a beautiful bible in just the color that I wanted.   I have to think that He just looks down and smiles.  What an awesome God  we serve!!!

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• Sep. 24, 2007
Oh the joy! Oh the joy of poop-art!!

Oh, the joy!  Oh, the raptureous joy of motherhood.  You know that emotion.  It's the emotion that completely overwhelms you, like the power of a renegade wave at the beach that violently knocks you off your feet and viciously tumbles you head over heels, like a cat in the dryer, through the surf, so that you come up sputtering and gasping for breath as you attempt to expel, not only the 5 gallons of salt-water from your lungs, but also the pound and a half of sand from your mouth and every other orifice of your body!  Yeah, THAT joy!

I experienced one of those moments of sheer and utter joy yesterday morning.  I got up and began to get ready for church.  I knew Lily had woken up, but she seemed content to stay in her crib a bit longer, so I didn't disturb her.  Therein lay my mistake.  I was in the laundry room folding towels when Megan came to me and said, "Mom, we have a problem."  (Wasn't Houston notified of a monumental problem in the same exact way??)  "Mom, Lily took off all her clothes again and this time she took off her diaper too!"  I knew this day was coming.  My heart began to fear the worst.  Megan's report was not yet complete.  "Oh, and Mom......uh, well..........uh...........Lily's covered in...........................POOP!"  A page ripped from the script of my worst nightmare!  And of course it would be on a SUNDAY morning, a day when I desired my child not only to *look* her best, but also to *smell* her best as well!

I ascended the stairs and proceeded to go to Lily's room.  As I opened her door, I was nearly bowled over backwards by the repugnancy of the stench that overtook my sense of smell.  Where in the world did I leave those gas-masks???  Through watering eyes, I peered across the room to behold my darling, adorable baby looking like the Poky Little Puppy, with a huge circle of brown around one eye.  Upon closer inspection, I noticed as well a consistently thick application to one arm, the opposite hand, a knee and the tops and bottoms of both feet.  Her sheet and her bumper pad had the most adorable little footprints and her crib rail had also be smeared with the stuff.  It was quite apparent that Lily had just had the most delightful time!  Oh, the joy.  Be still my heart. 

Of course, my first thought had been that if I had gotten Lily out of her crib earlier in the morning when I heard her awaken, I might have spared myself some extra work.  And of course, my darling husband had chosen *this* particular morning to take a load of trash to the free dump before church and was nowhere near to share the joy of the morning.  And, OF COURSE, my older daughter Tara was in my shower at this exact moment.  The stars and planets could not have been more perfectly aligned!  A more thorough investigation revealed that, not only was Lily covered in poop, but apparently she had been at this for some time, as the large brown spot that encircled her eye was completely dry and crusty.  Great, now I will have to *scrape* it from my child!  I shouted to Tara that I needed the bathtub NOW!  She got out and came to look at Lily, at which point she lay down on the floor, tears streaming down her face, rolling in hysterical laughter.  It is a moment like this which requires every ounce of strength in me not to pronounce "the mother's curse" upon my children.  You know the curse; the one that goes like this, "When you grow up, I hope you have 10 children that are *just like YOU*!!!"  Yeah, that curse.  It's more than obvious that my mother must have uttered those words upon me more than a couple of times. 

Anyway, I was able to put Lily in the tub and scrub her down.  Poor baby.  I literally had to scrub her until her skin turned red to get some of that dried poop off of her.  I suppose that in this case, red is better than brown!  And in the end, my husband walked in the door just in time to find a beautiful, happy, sparkling clean and deliciously smelling baby girl to sweep up into his arms.  His timing is simply impeccable.  In the end, we all got clean, fed and off to church and actually made it there on time.  It helps that the service doesn't start until 11:30!  

It's moments like these which remind me that, as my great-grandmothers used to say, "this too shall pass."  It's such a bittersweet realization that the little babies that cause us extra work will soon grow up and will fly away from our nests.  As I watch my older children grow and begin to take those first fledgling flights, I actually miss the mornings like the one I had yesterday.  It does remind me to stop and smell the roses along the way.  One word of advice though.  Go ahead and stop to smell the roses, just don't smell the brown Lily!! 

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• Sep. 20, 2007
My life is a revolving door

Nothing earthshattering or outrageously funny happened today.  Most people would call my day today.........normal.  I'd call it.........boring!  The boys had Thursday classes and were gone most of the day.  Rachel had a doctor's appointment and Tara had class.  The little girls and I did school and Lily wandered around throughout the day. 

It has occurred to me that my life is like a revolving door.  I have a toddler and a twenty year old.  One child with her childhood behind her and one foot out of the door.  Another child with her childhood ahead of her and just stepping into the door.  But, I like it that way.  Danny and I were out a week or so ago and began pondering what life would be like if we had stopped having kids after our second daughter.  Both our big girls are in college now.  What in the world would I do all day long?  I have no clue. 

As it stands, I have 2 girls with one foot out of the door.  I have 5 more bodies at various places inside that revolving door.  In 5 years, my boys will have a foot out of the door, and I will have 2 preteens and I will still have a little girl.  If God chooses to bless me with a long life, I may still have my little girls at home with me when my older children begin to have children of their own.  Rachel was 19 when Lily was born.  By the time Lily is 19, Rachel will be 38 (which is only a few years younger than I am right now.)  I'm so glad that God designed my life this way.  Having them coming and going at the same time is easy on my heart.  There is always someone little to hold.  There are bigger kids to create excitement.  And now, I have near-adult children with which to develop a whole new type of relationship. 

Revolving doors are phenomenal!  My life could not be more full or more blessed.  I am among the wealthiest women on the face of the earth. 

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• Sep. 19, 2007
"You have the patience of a Saint" It must be Saint Arnold

"You have the patience of a Saint"

That phrase has been uttered in my vicinity a number of times, in the last couple of years particularly.  I always look around to see of whom the speaker is referring.  I *know* they could not possibly mean ME!!  If you ask anyone in my family what my greatest attribute is, I guarantee not one of them would say, "My mom has so much patience that we are all soaking wet and drowning in it."  More like "We are parched and need some of that patience, lest we die!"

Today, for example, I was told that I have the patience of a saint.  First, I had to look around to see whom I should congratulate.  No one else was around.  Now, the reason I was told this was because I was leaving the building a second time after the little girls' Wednesday classes were over.  We had all tromped out to the van.  Darcy got in, Megan got in.  I handed Lily to Megan, who proceeded to put her in her carseat and begin to go through the litany of the buckling ceremony.  At just that point, Darcy says, with a look of urgency on her face, "I need to go potty." 

Oooooooookaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy. 

At this point, I have no big kid with me to leave the little girls in the car.  We are 30 minutes from home, but I need to run by Lampstand Press and pick up my Unit 2 on the way home.  THEN, I need to stop at the grocery store and get *something* for dinner.  So, I'm easily over an hour from getting her to our bathroom at home.  My choice is to either get all the little girls back out of the car, trudge across the parking lot and back into the building to go potty now, or........continue with the buckling ceremony and hope for desert-dry pants when we reach home.  That scenario is not likely.  Now, any mom worth her salt would dispense with ceremony and get those little girls into the potty pronto!  I think I'm retaining enough water weight (at least that's how I prefer to look at it when my scale reaches a number that is too high for human comprehension) at this point in my life to prove that I have plenty of salt.  We went inside to go potty.  As I was leaving for the second time and remarked as such, I was hailed as one like a saint.

Ah, to truly be as patient as a saint.  Of which saint are they referring anyway?  Were ALL the saints patient?  How does anyone know that for sure?  Maybe the phrase really started out as, "Whoa, you have the patients of a saint,"  since I think it was the early monks who cared for the sick.  As I recall, there were a LOT of sick people in the Middle Ages.  And,  I do have a lot of sick folks in my house.  Isn't sick the new word for cool?  I'm not a hip mom, I guess.  But, I digress.

I do, however, have a theory about patience.  I, for one, NEVER EVER pray and ask God to give me more patience.  I mean, really, I'm not completely crazy.  How is patience developed?  Well, the way I see it, the only way to garner patience in your life is through hardship.  I liken it to body-building.  Armold Schwartzenegger (I am SO glad that is *not* MY last name!!) didn't become Mr. Universe in a week or two.  He had to pump iron on a regular basis, and for years on end, stretching his muscles to their utmost in order for them to grow and gain strength and mass.  There must be something akin to resistance in your life in order for you to build patience.  And it must happen over and over again in your lifetime. 

You meet this resistance in your life with strength and trembling until you can bear it no longer.  At that point, my face is completely scarlet and there is actual steam coming from my ears.  My eyes glow red and my children would also say that I breathe fire.  But, the next time, I can withstand a little more.  After having had children in my life for 20 years, I've found that I can currently withstand more than I could when my oldest was 3 or 4.  Thankfully, I do not look like Arnie at the height of his muscularity (my husband is especially glad that I look *nothing* like good, ole Arnie!), but maybe on the inside I'm getting closer.  Was there ever a Saint Arnold?  If so, that's the saint I hope to resemble.  In the meantime, I'm not sure I deserve such high praise.   

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• Sep. 18, 2007
I'm sorry Mom, I was stupid; take me to the hospital now

Why is it that my boys realize some of the stupidity of their actions AFTER the fact? 

"I'm sorry Mom, I was stupid; take me to the hospital now"

That is what my son said to me last night. Now, I have learned from first hand experience that this is NOT a good phrase. In fact, the last time one of the boys said the words, "I'm sorry Mom, I was stupid" was the time that Josh set his father's Suburban on fire. So I knew immediately that this would not be a good thing.

 The kids had been riding the go-cart much of the afternoon and Zak was going around for one more spin before supper.  He acknowledged that he was going too fast and probably cut the wheel too sharply.  He flipped the go-cart.  Now, the go-cart has a roll cage, but this probably increases the likelihood of rolling when you go too fast and cut the wheel too hard.  Hmmm, let's call that a lesson in physics.  So, Zak hit some sort of rock when he landed and it split the underside of his forearm (his right arm) wide open.  And I DO mean WIDE open.

He walked in the door extremely calmly and uttered the aforementioned statement.  There was blood all over his arm and I could see a large, gaping hole where flesh *should* be.  I could see white in the hole and that was about as much as I would look at it.  We sprang into action.  Rachel and Tara wrapped up his arm.  Josh shooed the little girls away so that they wouldn't see the wound.  Zak laid down on the couch.  I thought he looked a little pale.  We were having tacos and Zak asked Rachel to make him a taco and help him eat it.  Danny was on his way home, but was still about 30-45 minutes out.  I asked Zak if it hurt and he said, "not really."  Well, THAT scared me.  It SHOULD hurt!  Why didn't it hurt?  Tara had gotten the bleeding to slow down, so we wrapped his arm in a towel and headed out to the hospital.

Much of the way there I repeatedly asked Zak if his arm hurt.  He kept saying that it didn't.  He also kept insisting that he wanted a camera to take pictures that I can only assume will be "trophy" pictures someday.  When he was seen, the docs reassured me that Zak's wound was only gaping and not a chunk of flesh missing.  Danny got to the hospital about 20 minutes behind us.  I was so glad.  Zak was glad too.  Why?   Because good old dad had stopped on the way to the hospital and bought a camera.  Oh joy.  They delighted in looking into the abyss of his arm.  You could see a tendon, muscle and the bone.  It really was pretty bad.  In fact, every single doctor and nurse who looked at it exclaimed, "WOW, that IS really BAD." Uh, hello.... mother in the room here.

For Danny and Zak it was an anatomy lesson.  First physics, now anatomy.  Zak was just steeped in science once this happened!  The doc sewed Zak up with about 16 stitches.  He had to stitch at 3 different levels to get it all closed up.  Now Zak has a "Franken-arm."   We got home about midnight, just in time to see the last 2 minutes of the Redskins game.

Oh, and I found out why Zak kept saying his arm didn't hurt.  He said he lied to me so I wouldn't freak out.  On the way home, he asked if it was a sin that he lied.  I had to smile at that.  I told him that a lie is still a lie, but that God looks at the motives of our hearts as well.  However, if it were me, I'd still ask for forgiveness.  He's a sweet boy.  I just wish they could realize the stupid stuff before there is colossal damage to something!!

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• Sep. 17, 2007
Life in the Abi-Normal world and Leave them in the sun!

My dad's favorite movie is "Young Frankenstein."  One of his favorite parts is when Igor goes to get a brain and comes back with the one labeled "abnormal."  He tells Dr. Frankenstein that the brain had belonged to someone named Abby......Abby Normal.  This has taken on a life of its own in my family.  We are all just plain abi-normal.  I have always marched to the beat of a different drummer.  I don't seem to do things "the way other people do."  Whatever that means.  I do things the abi-normal way.  Guess that's why I have 7 kids.  Guess that's why I homeschool them.  Guess that explains a lot!  It must have been the likeness of my brain that Igor brought to Dr. Frankenstein.  Welcome to my Abi-Normal World!

Yesterday our family went to church.  Well, actually Danny, myself, Rachel, the little girls and Josh went to church.  A different church.  As in, NOT the same church that we've complacently gone to for 20 years.  Josh was NOT happy.  On the way, we stopped and picked up McDonald's.  The service started at 11:30am.  We got to McD's at 11:15am.  Forgot that they stopped serving breakfast at 11am.  Bummer.  So, we scrambled to figure out what else to order.  The kids got 20 Chicken McNuggets.  Of course, when you're in a hurry to do something, you inevitably get slowed down by something else.  The church was maybe 5 minutes from the McD's.  The nuggets that the kids got must have been 5,450 degrees Kelvin!  They were hotter than any chicken nuggets on the face of the earth, of course.  The kids couldn't eat them.  Of course.

We got to the church, parked the van and everyone started to get out.  Everyone except Josh.  Josh, the one who didn't want to be there.  Josh, the one who currently argues with every word I say.  Josh, the one who insisted that he be allowed to eat his nuggets before getting out of the van.  Here went the conversation:

Me:  Josh, get out of the van.

Josh:  I want to eat my nuggets.

Me:  No, you don't have time.  Leave them in your seat.

Josh:  They'll be cold when I come back.

Me:  Leave them in the sun.  Now get out of the van!

For some reason, Rachel thought the above exchange was hysterical and giggled all the way across the parking lot.  Welcome to my Abi-normal World!

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