Mom Of A Handful

Moo

2011-02-24T06:57:00.000-08:00

So we settled into the Spring of 2009, waiting for Miss Marley’s arrival in June. We got Marley’s room ready, we spent extra time with the boys and began shopping (finally) for pink clothes. As a little girl myself, my parents’ nickname for me had been ladybug. I always liked that nickname, and always loved ladybugs. In fact, one year in the not too distant past, upon Pete learning of my childhood nickname and my affection for it, he got me for Christmas a beautiful charm bracelet with tiny, adorable ladybugs on it!

So when coming upon a tiny, newborn onesie in pink, with tiny, red ladybugs on it, I quickly snatched it up for Marley’s “coming home” outfit. I brought it home, eager to show it off to Pete. He, of course, thought it was precious; Alex, however, had a different idea. Alex took one look at it, grabbed it from me for a closer inspection, looked up at me as if I had lost my mind entirely, and informed me, “Dat’s not ladybugs, Mommy! Dem’s COCKROACHES! Don’t put my baby sister in cockroaches!”

Boys.

Anyways, the hilarity while waiting for Marley didn’t end there. An episode occurred with Austin one evening that we still laugh out loud about to this day. One evening, all of us were in the den watching Animal Planet. The boys were roughhousing about, occasionally watching what was on the TV, but for the most part, just being boys....bumping, hitting, pinching, squeaking, squalling, carrying on, stealing toys from one another...until Austin looked up at one point and notice what was on TV. I don’t remember the name of the show, but this particular episode was about a momma cow, giving birth to a calf. It was very realistic and fairly graphic. It showed the farmers and vets all around in the barn....the momma cow laying down in the hay, and by the sounds coming out of the momma cow, she was in heavy labor. Austin stopped his horseplay, and began intensely watching the TV. The momma cow kept bellowing, in pain that I, as a “different kind of labor” pain-free adoptive mother, can only imagine. I’m not much of one to watch any television depicting any type of suffering, animal or human. Give me a sit-com any time. I started to tell Pete to change channels, but Austin hollered out, “No! No!” The calf was coming, the vets and farmers were helping momma cow, and Austin, spellbound, got up from the floor where he had been playing with his brothers, and, mesmerized, began walking towards the television set. His eyes were bugged out. He dropped his toy dinosaur. He continued on towards the television, never taking his eyes off the momma cow. The den got quiet as we all watched Austin’s progress towards the TV, the only sounds now being the sounds of the momma cow, the human on the show, and....finally, the newborn baby calf! Austin was, by now, standing right in front of the TV, his right hand out and touching the screen where the baby calf lay in the hay, between it’s momma’s hind legs. Austin’s never moved a muscle, never took his eyes off, never said a word. The vets/farmers were now beginning to check over and clean up the baby calf, and, eventually got the calf up on its feet. Austin.....still entranced. The baby calf began to nurse at it’s momma. Austin....fascinated. The baby calf nursed for a short while, then pulled away, and nestled with it’s momma for a bit, then went back to nursing. Austin, this entire time, has not moved a muscle, has not said a word, has not even blinked his eyes! Just standing there, hand out touching the TV screen, just overwhelmed by the miracle of birth, of a baby cow. Then, as the scene began to close and the camera was pulling away, taking in the larger scene with the vets and farmers and other people, the barn, the other cows, and just farm life in general, Austin, apparently finding his voice, finally, leaned his head back....way back, puckered up his lips, took a deep breath, and let out the loudest, longest, most passionate, heartfelt “MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” any human being has ever uttered. No cow ever has anything in our Austin. His alter ego was born.

Pete and I laughed until we actually cried, watching this whole thing play out.

Even funnier was about two weeks later, when they had “Zoo Day” at his pre-K, and upon picking up Austin from school, his teacher told us, “Ya know, Austin was just thrilled by the cows. And as a matter of fact, whenever we have play/pretend time, Austin is always our best cow. He can “moo” louder and longer than any of the other kids. He always insists on playing the cow!”

The teacher looked at us like we’d lost our minds when we both cracked up laughing hard enough to cry. And even to this day, almost two years later, whenever we’re out with the kids traveling and pass a field of cows, or even when we’re anywhere, reading a book with a cow in the storyline, Austin can always be counted on to reinvent his inner cow, bringing both of us to tears with laughter....the best kind.

Thomas the Train

2011-02-14T11:14:00.001-08:00

One of the funniest things I think I have ever seen, happened in early 2009. I don't know when I have ever laughed so hard, either before or since (well, except maybe for the Alex potty training talk) .

It began with Christmas. The boys each got a tiny, battery-operated Thomas the Tank Engine in their Christmas stocking. You just insert one AA battery, close the compartment, flip the switch to "ON" and off he goes! The boys had great fun with them. They love to run Thomas over everything: the floor, the table, their arms, the sofa, the kitchen counter tops...anywhere with a flat (or near flat) surface.

One afternoon, their father was watching TV while home with the boys. Austin came running up to his daddy from the play room and hollered, "Daddy! Watch Thomas!" and proceeded to put Thomas, with his tiny little battery-operated wheels just a-chugging along, on the top of his daddy's head. Tiny little Thomas the Tank Engine proceeded across the top of hubs' head, and the tiny little wheels proceeded to swirl, spin and twist up the very few hairs that still claim residence on Pete's head. Before Austin or Pete could do anything, Thomas was locked up tighter than a drum, with his little train wheels just a-spinnin', twirling those few hairs tighter and tighter, and the little plastic wheels digging deeper and deeper into Pete's scalp.

Pete immediately reached up to grab the offending Thomas off of his head, but Thomas was stuck! Oh, so stuck! Pete pulled and tugged, but that train was on the tracks to nowhere! He managed to switch the on/off switch to OFF, but he could not get the train off of his head! Those four little wheels had twirled up his hair all the way to the root! (For those of you who have never seen Pete, his is...shall we say...of a certain mature age, and his hair is...shall be say...thinning! And for those of you who don't know Pete very well, he is...shall we say...very vain about his hair. Every trip to the barber, he swears THIS IS THE TIME I CUT IT ALL OFF AND JUST EMBRACE BEING BALD! Or not. Each time, he comes home with a perm AND a dye job, trying his best to hold off looking like a monkey's behind.) Had this happened to me, no sweat. I have long hair, thick hair and lots of hair, so one quick snip of the scissors and back to business it would be for me. For Pete, not so much.

The image of Pete with Thomas the Train stuck to his head is funny enough. The first thing that really cracks me up is that the train was not sitting flat, on top of his head....rather, Thomas had begun his run in the center of Pete's scalp, and ended his route sort of at the curve of his skull, above his right eye. The second thing that was so funny was this whole episode happened to poor Pete, early in the day! So he spent most of that entire day with Thomas the Tank Engine stuck to his scalp! Luckily, it was not a school day for the kids, but it was a work day for me, and Pete had to remain with the train on his head, for hours and hours. Get up to fix the kids' lunch? Thomas went along. Go outside to play with the kids....Thomas went, too. Off to the potty? Thomas followed. I'm sure there were errands to run that day...at the very least, checking the mail. But Pete refused to leave the house, embarrassed to be seen with a small, battery operated child's toy, stuck to his head.

So I got home after work that evening, and there Pete sat, in the den, with the news on, the boys jumping, chasing and chattering all around him like rabid little monkeys, and Thomas, right on top. At first, as I approached, I thought one of the kids had placed it there, as in JUST PLACED IT THERE, and that it would fall off Pete's head with the first time Pete moved. But he sat there, lazily rocking back and forth in his recliner, turning his head to pick up his Diet Coke can, and even bending over once to pick up little Andrew, who had fallen to the ground while playing. And when Pete rose back up holding Andrew, and then turned around after spotting me coming in the den, Thomas rose back up and turned with him. I thought...I must be seeing things....that is NOT a Thomas the Tank Engine on my husband's head. But going up to hubby for a smooch, I reached up and raised my hand to take Thomas down, and "JEEZ! WOMAN! STOP!" were the next words out of Pete's mouth.

Because, well, you know, doesn't every woman know better than to try to take Thomas the Train off of her husband's head after a long day of being a stay at home dad?

"Um, Pete, what's up with Thomas? New style that I'm not hip to scene about yet?"

"Ask Austin."

"Oh. 'Nuff said."

"Well, can you get some scissors and cut this thing out? I've tried and I can't get my head bent in the right position to see where to cut."

(Muffled laughter). "Alright, but how long have you been....like....this?"

"Almost all day."

"You mean, you've been all day, coming and going...with Thomas stuck to your head?"

"No, I haven't GONE anywhere. Do I look stoopid?"

"Well, actually, yes you do."

"Hush up and get the scissors."

So I did. And let me tell you, those measly few hairs were turned around tight. And I could see that in the position Thomas was in, on top of Pete's head, that he couldn't bend and see and clip, all at the same time. There were even faint track marks still in his scalp from Thomas' wheels turning against his scalp, before he managed to get the switch turned off.

So I went after the scissors. The boys began dancing around their daddy, pointing and laughing. As I turned back to Pete, it really did strike me as hysterically funny. Grown man spent the day with Thomas the Train stuck to his skull. I pictured him going about his day, running errands, greeting people, tending to business, all with a small train on his head. I started laughing so hard I cried. I literally cried tears of laughter. Poor Pete just looked so funny.

I tried to cut away his hair from the wheels. But his hair was/is so short, and the wheels had turned so tight, there was no wiggle room to fenagle the scissors in to cut! I tried moving Thomas, but he just grinned at me with his cute blue face, happy to remain where he was. I tried simply yanking the train out, but Pete is really tender-headed, and I feared ripping an entire patch of his scalp out, leaving a raw, bloody cranium exposed. I tried to be serious about this matter, but I just kept laughing and laughing. I begged Pete to let me take a picture, but he would not let me. The kids were all laughing by this point. I imagined having to go to the emergency room, or, at least, an urgent care center. But Pete was already mortified enough...he refused to go to be a laughing stock for complete strangers. Best to keep it at home, and be a laughing stock amongst your own family.

Eventually, I did manage to slip one end of the scissors into just the right spot to be able to cut loose one hair. That, in turn, loosened up the other end of Thomas enough to be able to slip the scissors in and cut a second hair loose...and so on, and so on, and so on, until finally, after hours spent with Thomas stuck to his head, Pete was free.

I had not laughed that hard in I don't know when. Thomas, however, found no humor in being sent in the sack to Goodwill. Bon Voyage, Thomas!

Back again

2011-02-03T09:05:00.000-08:00

What can I say....life just keeps happening to me and around me. Back in the saddle again.

Well, after the police incident that began the year 2009 for our family, things kept hopping. The month of January alone contains birthdays for my mom, my dad, Adrian, me, my Aunt Nell and Casey (Andrew's birth mother). Everyone forgot mine that year, except my office mates, and that's probably just because our Outlook program sends out reminders of birthdays, anniversaries, etc.

February brought Austin's second birthday, which fell on a Friday and we celebrated a family party by going to Hungry Howie's pizza buffet for dinner. It went pretty well...considering that towards the end of our dinner, a local boys soccer team came in for dinner...about 9 or 10 boys in all...and our 3 little ones gave those 9 or 10 much older boys a real run for their money when it came to noise and mess. So much so that upon our leaving, one of the coaches commented to me that it looks and sounds like I have my own soccer team in the making!

And because just one celebration is not enough for my boys, we had a "party at the park" for Austin in March. We invited Austin's friends from school and Sunday School, as well as family and some friends. It was a great day...pizza, cake, and a SpongeBob cake and pinata. Austin so loved the cake, he didn't want to eat it...just kept playing with the SpongeBob and Squidward candleholders they had.

March 31st brought exciting news. Very exciting news. We received a call from the attorney's office where we had placed our latest homestudy and adoption profile back in October of 2008. They had a birth mother, expecting a baby girl, that they would like to present us to! They gave us more details and asked us if we were interested. Interested? Heck, yeah! Present away! On March 31st, we received the news: we had been chosen by this birth mother to adopt her baby girl, due later in the summer! Time to shop for pink, finally!

Tax time was fast approaching, and that meant pressure, pressure, pressure for me at work. Our first meeting with our birth mother didn't occur until after April 15. When we finally did get to meet her, we got to meet her mother, as well. I was surprised when I met her, as she was tiny, especially for someone 7 months pregnant. You really could not tell she was pregnant at all. She was short and stick thin. I felt like the world's biggest galoot next to her. I looked more pregnant than she did.

The meeting went well. At one point, she asked what we planned to name the baby. We told her Marley, and then told her the story behind the name (that we were huge Bob Marley fans. Also, how back in the 90s, when we were romantically looking ahead at our future life of marriage and kids, and we picked the name Marley while eating dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant, our fortune cookie after the meal read "Your life will be made blessed by children"). How's that for a run-on sentence? That fortune, by the way, is now pasted in Marley's baby book. Our birth mother and her mother both teared up at that story. She then commented, "That's not a name". I, thinking she meant that she did not like the name Marley, replied, "Yes, it is...maybe not a common one, but it's a name." She replied back, "No, I just thought you'd pick a name beginning with "A", like all your boys". I, now feeling like not only a big galoot, but also a stupid one, realized that she had said "that's not an 'A' name", not "that's not a name". She kept tearing up...her mother, as well. My heart sunk. What if she thought I was hearing impaired, or stupid, or both?

An uncomfortable silence followed. I did not know what to say, because apparently, I was an idiot. She then looked up at me and told us her story. She said all her life, as a little girl and a young woman, she always thought that when she grew up and had a daughter, she would name her "Marlea" after her favorite aunt, Margaret, and her mother, Lea. So us having years ago chosen the name Marley, confirmed to her, in every possible way, that her baby girl was meant to be our daughter. At that point, all of us at the table were now crying. A lifelong bond was being formed. We all felt an indescribable blessing covering us. We couldn't wait for Miss Marley to join in.

Welcome 2009!

2010-10-07T07:10:00.000-07:00

2009 began with a bang, but how could it not with my three boys? It was the first weekend of 2009, a Saturday morning....ah, let me reflect briefly on my life BC (before children). Saturday morning meant sleeping late, waking up to throw in a load of laundry and a start a pot of coffee. I would sit in the kitchen of my old, old as in former, house, at the kitchen counter and beside the sliding glass doors looking out over my backyard. I would watch the birds and squirrels in my backyard, thinking over various gardening projects, drink my wonderful, hot coffee, cup after cup, smell the freshly scented fabric softener I used in my load of laundry, read the newspaper, leisurely, and listen to the soothing sounds of Bach, Brahms or Beethoven on my CD player. My morning would slowly unfold as I would plan my day, my weekend, and the next week.

The first Saturday of 2009 began with the Triple A Threat careening through the house like rabid monkeys on espresso, with a Red Bull chaser. Alex leading the pack, of course, with his brothers chasing him, pushing, pulling and dragging things down on the floor behind him to inhibit his brothers' chase. Austin probably had a boat or another tub toy with him, and a bottle, and Andrew took up the rear, dragging his disheveled mee-moo (favorite blanket) behind him.

Alex, at some point, grabbed the kitchen phone and inadvertently dialed 911. The operator answered and, hearing chaos and not getting an intelligent reply, dispatched a car to our house. Glad to know our tax dollars pay for some very efficient law enforcement prevention in this town; however, in this instance, law enforcement was not needed....well, not very much, at any rate...I do have three boys, so ya never know.

So I get up, not even having had half a cup of cold coffee yet, and am rolling through the house, bitching and moaning about all the mess. "Good Lord, isn't it bad enough I can't even sleep late on the one morning of the week that I don't have to go anywhere? What's going on around here? What's all this mess? Who did all this? Where are you boys?"

DING-DONG!

Me, tripping over yet another toy in the kitchen, still in my raggedy Bob Marley T-shirt and paint-stained sweat pants, hair all over the place like I'd stuck my finger in a light socket, hollered, "Who the hell is this? Who in their right mind rings someone's door bell at 7:30 on a Saturday morning? It's better not be...."

Yank open door. See (LARGE) police officer, with his hand on this piece. Uh-oh.

"Um, good morning, officer, can I help you?" Immediately upon seeing all the blood drain from my face, because I figured the neighbors had finally had enough of my human wrecking crew and had called the po-pos, my boys ran to my side to see who was at our door. All three of them, with saggy, smelly pull-ups, sleep-encrusted eyes, bare feet, and their odd assortment of crapola that they carry with them at all times.

"Is everything OK here, ma'am? Because we got a 911 call from this address."

"You did? Huh? We didn't call 911!"

"Well, someone here dialed 911 and didn't say anything, but the operator heard a lot of yelling and screaming and things falling and crashing. So since we couldn't get a response from anyone on the phone, the operator is required to dispatch a unit to do a well-being check, just to make sure everyone is OK, that no one is....."

Me, interrupting him, "yeah, yeah, yeah, no one is being murdered or anything. I get it. Well, I'm sure it sounded that way, because it always sounds that way around here, but we're all OK....as OK as it gets in this house."

Alex, to officer, "Hey, cop, can I shoot your gun?"

Me, dying here, "ALEX!"

Officer: "No, buddy, I sure can't let you do that...."

Alex, interrupting, "Hey, officer, you wanna come in and play with me and my brudders, and we can play cops and bad guys?"

Austin and Andrew, now jumping up and down, chiming in: "yeah, yeah, yeah, shoot gun!"

Well, we don't call them the Triple A Threat for nuthin'!

The officer laughed, said he understood because he has kids of his own, and just gave the boys a warning about playing with the phone, and listening to their Mommy! Off he went, to right real crime, and left me with....3 boys. No need for coffee anymore, my adrenaline was roaring through my veins by now.

Welcome, 2009!

The Great '08 Wrap-Up

2010-09-30T10:48:00.000-07:00

It being close to a year since I've blogged regularly, I'm just gonna wrap up the year 2008 in one post. Nah, it would have nothing to do with the fact that, as a full-time-office-working mother of 4 kids...well, 5 including the hubs, that I can hardly remember last night's dinner, much less almost two years ago. I actually had to go back and look at my scrapbook pictures to remember anything at all. Thanksgiving of 2008 had only two pictures. Yup, that's right...2. In a family as large as ours, and as OCD as I am about photographing every moment of my children's lives as humanly possible, to only be able to find two pictures of a major holiday like Thanksgiving is disturbing. That must have been a real hair-puller of a day. Which also does not make a lot of sense, because according to the pictures, we dined in a nice restaurant for Thanksgiving dinner that year. Although, given the chance, my kids act worse when eating out in public, just because they know it drives me bat-bleep crazy. And a day without driving momma batty, is like a day without sunshine to them. Hmmm, hoped I enjoyed it at the time, coz I sure don't remember it now.

Anyways, on to Christmas. Quite a bit more photos of Christmas, and it appears to have been a pretty great month. Certainly, one of the highlights was having Andrew's birth mother drive up with her boyfriend, and spend the day with us at our adoption support group holiday party. That was a first for our group...a birth mother at an adoptive family party. But, as I've always said, this particular birth mother is more like a sister or a daughter to me...I truly love, love, love this young woman, and we're blessed to have her in our family. We had a breakfast buffet at the house and my parents even came over to meet her. Then we headed out to Wendy's for our party, where all the families were so thrilled to meet Casey. Pete, as usual, played Santa for the kids. And, of course, Alex wanted nothing to do him the bearded man, EVEN THOUGH, this time he figured out it was his own daddy! But it was a wonderful day, as always out at Wendy's, and made even better by getting to share it with Casey.

Also in December was the tree lighting at our local duck pond. Always have fun there, yup, three little boys surrounded by an acre of slimy green and brown duck poop. But regardless, the lighting was beautiful, as always, and the boys discovered the thrill of rolling down hill. Not so much interested in the lights, Santa, the ducks or anything else. We pretty much spent that evening watching the boys roll downhill, over and over and over again. "Look, Mommy, watch dis!" Over and over and over again. What a lovely family tradition we've started.

Later in the month was Alex's first school performance. His pre-school class put on a song and dance Christmas show in the church sanctuary. Although with all 4 year olds, and mine in particular, is was more of a "Stare Like A Stump" to Christmas music show. Some of the kids were real show-stoppers....dancing and singing their hearts out. Alex, for the most part, just looked real cute in his Rudolph shirt, and on occasion would clap his hands or raise his arms as instructed...but for the most part, he had the glassy-eyed, gape-mouthed gaze down to a T! Nevertheless, I loved seeing my first born up there with all his classmates, dressed all in red and green, and doing whatever it was they were doing to entertain all the parents and grandparents. Alex may have stared like a stump, but he's my, beloved stump!

After the show was refreshment time, and we, along with my parents and Aunt BooBoo, enjoyed cookies, cake, pastries and breads and visiting with the other families. I tried my best to get a picture of the boys on stage, in front of the potted poinsettisas and the beautifully decorated Christmas tree, but getting 3 boys under age 3 to pose was akin to herding cats. Just wasn't going to be done. I got one insanely grinning pose of Alex, looking like he'd been electrocuted, one angry, fighting and pulling away from momma shot with Andrew, and a calm pose of Austin, so calm he looks sad....like he just lost his best friend. What-r-ya-gonna-do?

Christmas was special this year, well, it is every year, being as blessed as we are, but I say extra special because Santa Clause actually came to our house Christmas morning! Threw Alex for a loop, because he thought he was ALL THAT because he had figured out at our adoption holiday party that it was his daddy playing Santa. But when Santa came in our backdoor from the Sunroom late Christmas morning, with some gifts that he had accidently "forgotten" to leave the night before...well, that just blew Alex away. He even sat on Santa's lap! Alex's belief in Santa Clause has been restored! Many thanks to our friend Paul for helping us pull that one off!

Three days after Christmas is Alex's birthday....he turned 4 in 08, and we celebrated with a "struction" party. Had another beautiful mild winter day at the local park, with a "struction" cake, pizza, ice cream, games, friends and a Lightning McQueen pinata. Pinatas are the bomb, lemme tell ya. My kids, well, all kids, from what I can tell, go bananas over a pinata. But that best part of all, as always, was seeing Alex surrounded by love and family and friends. Here's to a happy birthday, Alex!

So the year 2008 ended on a great note. It had been a busy, full year of settling in to our new house, deciding to grow our family yet again, me battling the on-again, off-again walking pneumonia, and working while trying to keep up with the boys. We were looking forward to a great 2009, and it would prove to be a doozy! Stay tuned for more adventures as my blogging resumes.

1 year

2010-09-24T07:21:00.000-07:00

Wow, has it been almost a year since I blogged? That can't be...well, actually, yes it can. It's been a helluva year. In a lot of ways. Since I last blogged, I've seen the lowest of lows, and the highest of highs. Right now, life is looking pretty darn good, so on this positive note, let the blogging resume.

I will try to pick up where I left off, just for the sake of continuity, coz I'm like that, and then try to stay very daily...well, weekly, or, at least, monthly in my blogging. Some things I can and will share; others, I will not. Suffice it to say, life is looking good again, and it's time to share some laughs and some tears.

I'll pick up again next week. Welcome back, me!

Halloween 2008

2009-10-21T08:45:00.000-07:00

The month of October started out full of promise and plans. We had something scheduled every weekend, and usually 3 or 4 things every weekend, and even some nights during the week! Florida is full of festivals and parties and fairs and parks and events, all during the month of October. Well, I should have known better than to plan, coz right when I did, everything fell apart.

We went to our church’s pumpkin patch early in the month, and got one of the biggest pumpkins out there, as well as a wagon full of different gords and little pumpkins. Mom and Dad went with us, and it was a great night: not too hot, lots of pumpkins, everyone in a good mood, a bounce house to jump in and wagons to ride in.

We got the house decorated for Halloween. Did most of it in one day, actually, when Austin and Andrew took long naps. Alex helped, of course, which basically means he dragged junk out of the storage boxes and trailed everything all through the house until he got bored with it, and then back out to the garage it was for digging around in another box! But, we did it. The house was officially Haunted. Skeletons, pumpkins, tombstones, The Grim Reaper, witches, pirates, cobwebs, candles, bones, ghosts, spiders, skulls, scarecrows, mummies, bats, you name it! We had it...and it usually glowed, shook, rattled, lit up, moaned, hissed, spit, made noises and heaven forbid I forget, the boys’ favorites, which is the array of singing, dancing Halloween Chickens and Dancing Frankensteins and One-Eyed, One-Horned, Flying Purple People Eaters that the boys kept pressing the ON button EVERY SINGLE WAKING MOMENT DURING THE LONG, 31-DAY MONTH OF OCTOBER!

Anyways, with the house decorated, it was off to the party store to get costumes. My only rule about Halloween costumes has been that for the babies first year, they had to be a little pumpkin. Each one of them was a little pumpkin on their first year. After that, they get to choose. I thought, or I imagined, that my trio of boys would choose cowboys, Indians, Batman, Spiderman, or something along those lines. Nope. Not my crew! The scarier, the better. Alex was a ghost, Austin was Frankenstein, and Andrew a little devil! Actually, sounds about perfect, doesn’t it?

So we went to our first Halloween activity, the Newberry Corn Maze. It was a lot of fun, and Alex, Austin and Mommy got our picture in our local newspaper for it! It was not too scary at all...it had the corn maze, of course, which Alex loved, and a hay ride through the farm to see cows (which Alex could care less about because he saw A TRACTOR! OH MY GOSH, MOMMY, A TRACTOR! And I had to take a picture of it, of course) , it had chickens, and goats and a spooky town, and we had a picnic with a big group of friends, took a mini-tractor ride through spooky town, did a pumpkin rolling contest, and just spent a wonderful afternoon with a bunch of families having a wonderful time!

Once home, all three boys went down for a nap. Pete had to run to Home Depot, and I was so looking forward to about an hour of quiet time all by myself. I fixed a sandwich and was just sitting down to watch a Lifetime Television Movie when I heard, “Mommy?” And I could tell my the sound of his voice it wasn’t gonna be good. I ran back and sure enough, Alex was sick. This is where is gets really scary at our house, because the poor child had upchucked EVERYWHERE. Big, red, goopy barf covered my bed and floor. Must have been the red cupcakes we’d eaten at the corn maze. That, and some corn. Yuck. Five separate places the poor baby threw up...all over himself and his shoes and just everywhere. So I got him cleaned up and calmed down and settled him in the den, so I could go back and clean up the bedroom. I was back there for about 30 minutes with my buckets and rags and cleansers, and when I finished and came up front to the den, poor Alex had thrown up eight more times in the kitchen and the den. This poor child was sick in a whole new kind of way of being sick. It was awful. He ended up barfing only about 3 more times that night, and only a few times the next day, but he was red hot and feverish, so by Monday morning, he was at the doctor’s office right away.

Diagnosis? The very beginning of pneumonia. The gave him a B-12 shot and an antobiotic shot to jump start his treatment, and he had to do a 10 day round of oral antibiotics and albuterol nebulizer breathing treatments, 3 times a day! What a sport he was about it, though. And how sad and pitiful he looked, all tired eyes and pale and with that mask on his face! But he was brave about it, and by the end of his 10 days of treatment, he was even fighting us about taking the treatments.

So, I know this is going to be a shock to you all, but guess what? I got sick then, too. I had influenza. And you know I’m really, really sick when I call in to work and even go to the doctor because I’m so sick. And did I happen to mention: I was sick? I went on a 10 day round of antobiotics and breathing treatments and you’ve never seen anything as pitiful as Alex and Momma hooked up to our machines at night, breathing. Our house looked like a hospital ward...pills and upchuck and breathing masks everywhere.

So the last night of my breathing treatment, I stayed home while Pete took the boys to our church’s trick or treat Fall festival. The church bulletin had said it was from 5 - 8 PM, and with me still weak and Andrew now coming down with something, we actually did not get Alex and Austin ready (in their costumes) until about 6:30 PM. I figured it was still enough time to get them there to enjoy a few games and activities. Off they go, but sadly, when they got there, it was all closed up and gone. The church bulletin had misprinted the time, but since we had not gone to actual church that morning (what with me being sick and all), we had missed the announcement with the correct times. That was a bummer....both boys, all dressed up with their little pumpkin pails, and they were so excited to trick or treat at church with their little friends...but no one and nothing was there. Pete felt so bad for them, he ended up taking them to Walgreens drug store and let them walk the candy aisle and pick out some candy, all tricked out in their ghost and Frankenstein costumes. And when they got home and I found out, I just felt so bad I burst into tears. We had missed the Gators homecoming parade, the Silver Springs Fall Festival, the Cedar Key fall festival, the County Fair and the Elks Halloween party...all because of being sick....and now this. I just cried and cried that night...I felt worthless as a mother.

Well, we managed to get at least Alex to the annual pumpkin carving party that we attend at our friends, Greg and Michelle’s house. Andrew by this time was really sick....double ear infection. So we carved our pumpkin with our friends and Alex made some new friends there, and Greg always makes fresh, from scratch, homemade pumpkin pies and pumpkin bread at the party, as well as candied apples and popcorn. YUM! We had such a great time, and Alex fell asleep coming home with his candied apple in his lap!

The next morning, Alex was in the Halloween parade at school. He fought us on going, Lord knows why because I don’t. But he fought us tooth and nail, more so than he regularly does about going to school. We explained to him what a parade was, and told him that he would get to wear his ghost costume to school for the parade, and we were taking cookies to share with the class, but still: he didn’t want to go. I finally got it out of him that he didn’t want to wear his costume, because he did not want his friends to be afraid of him all dressed up as a ghost! How sweet: he was worried about scaring his friends! It was a rough morning getting him dressed and to class, but we did it, dropped him off and waited outside for the parade to begin, silently praying the whole time that he wouldn’t have a gigantic, screaming, Alex-sized meltdown during the parade. And what do you think happened? He was the first in line for the parade, a huge, Cheshire-cat grin on his face, beaming for the whole world to see, and holding the hand of a younger, smaller classmate dressed up as a puppy! Alex stole the show! Our very own ghost!

And we managed to do Halloween night, with Momma here even making her homemade, from scratch, Pumpkin- Chocolate Chip Muffins! Another YUM! Austin was funny....he thought when you went door to door trick or treating, that when the people held out their bowls of candy, that you were supposed to take a piece from your bag to put in their bowl! No, Austin, you take a piece of candy....he finally got it! It was fun and relatively relaxing, considering all the chaos and sickness of the month. We trick or treated around the neighborhood, came home to EAT CANDY, and even actually got the babies in bed at their regular time. So there you have our Halloween madness for 2008. Hard to believe that was a year ago!

Andrew's First Birthday

2009-09-29T12:30:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Orlando around 9:30 PM. We stayed at the same condo complex as we did back in May...only this time, our condo was right by a big pond. We unpack and the boys, naturally, are wired and stayed up until around midnight. But this time, we expected that...so we knew to just go with the flow. The only really remarkable thing about our first night, other than the ridiculously late hour at which the boys went to bed, was that after dinner, Pete and the boys all got gas. I don't know from what, and why it didn't happen in the van on the way down (Thank God), but as soon as everyone got inside and started running around, they all got gassy. Pete, too. Even baby Andrew chimed in with a few tiny toots of his own. Must be a guy thing. And I said as much to Pete, or, to be exact, I complained in an exasperated tone, "what IS it with you all? Why are all of you doing this to me?" To which Alex replied, after overhearing me, "Mom, we can't help it...we're guys....we just fart!"

The next morning dawned cloudy and overcast. It pretty much rained all day, so we stayed in, after a run to Super Walmart to stock up on some food. Then, late afternoon, the rain stopped. It stayed overcast and cloudy, but it did stop raining long enough for us to go see "Sea World After Dark". We got there and everyone was in a good mood and feeling OK, but Austin seemed a little....off. Just not quite himself. Well, the highlight of the evening was Shamu Rocks, which is the after dark Shamu show. So we stand in line, finally make our way to the gate, and the 5 of us are huddled there, kind of squished up against the people in front of us in line. Alex is standing, Pete has Andrew and I"m holding Austin. All of a sudden, there is an explosion of....something. It landed on me, on Alex's head, on Austin, and on the woman and man in front of us in line. It looked like....bird poop. Where did it come from? We look up, we look around, we're all grossed out, and then....here it comes again. Oh my gosh, it's Austin! He's just puked all over everyone! Everyone starts freaking out, grossing out, shouting out....and I, of course, help matters a lot by just hollering, "oh, it's Austin....he's throwing up!" I don't know why I said it out loud so loud like that. I just sort of shot out of me, just like poor Austin. So everyone clears out. We take our 3 and head back over to the strollers and clean up as best we can. There's really not much you can do in those situations...just roll with the punches, I guess. At least when we got back in line, the gate area where we had been standing when Austin threw up was now all cleared out and empty. I guess that's one way to get through a crowd really fast!

So immediately after throwing up, Austin feels just fine. He's back to his old self. I guess the turkey leg he'd had for dinner just didn't agree with him. Once it cleared his belly, he was good as new. So we rocked out with Shamu, then went to see the polar bear and walrus and whale exhibit. We saw the turtles, the otters and sea lions (where I distinctly recognized the sound of my own home and my own children at that very rowdy, very loud, screeching, squealing, squawking, arfing exhibit) and ended the night at Alex's favorite place: the shark and sting ray exhibit. It sort of spooked him this time, because we were the only ones in there, as it was closing time. And it was sort of spooky, dark outside, rainy, and here are all these sharks, giving us the evil eye......chills.

After a few minutes of catching the fireworks display over the bayside, we said good night to SeaWorld. We headed back to the condo and had a late night dinner of pizza and sandwiches.

We also took some time this weekend to celebrate a big day for Andrew: his first birthday! Hard to believe he was already one year old! We got him cupcakes....green ones. He loved them! Happy Birthday, Andrew!

The next day dawned much clearer, but with one miserable drawback: Alex was running a fever. My poor baby was sick. He didn't have a cough, sore throat, ear ache, runny, stuffy or snotty nose...just a fever. And he was very lethargic. He napped a lot that day...we all did. By late afternoon, he was feeling a little better. We went over to the hot tub, to the play ground, and the best of all: the little lake by our condo. Pete had gone to Wal Mart and got Alex his first fishing pole, and we spend some time fishing there. Alex caught his very first fish! And a big one at that. Pete taught him how to cast the line, and the look on Alex's face when he first understood what it meant when he felt a pull on his line, and then to reel it in and viola! His very first fish! He caught a lot of fish that day. He'd catch them and then toss them back in. To be honest, it really wasn't much of a challenge for him. The pond was loaded with fish. Every line he cast, he caught something. But it didn't take long for my poor baby to get tired of the heat and the humidity. So we went back to the condo and never did get to Sea World that day, or anywhere else for that matter. Alex ended up throwing up a few times, and with all the kids tired and lethargic, Pete and I ended up watching an all day marathon of Law and Order while the kids slept. That was a huge change for us: no Scooby-Doo, no Sponge Bob, no Dora the Explorer. Real, adult television.

The next day, Alex's fever was completely gone. He had thrown up again a few times in the middle of the night. But he felt much better that morning and insisted on going fishing again with his dad, where they caught a few more fish. Then it was off to Sea World for a few hours that afternoon. But Alex was still a little weak from the fever, so we didn't stay long. He tired easily that day and we headed home that afternoon. All in all, it was a good trip...even it was what could now be referred to as "the birthday/vomit weekend"! Good times, huh?

INDEPENDENCE DAY - 2008

2009-09-09T12:27:00.001-07:00

We celebrated July 4th, in big style as always. We took off Thursday after I got home from work. The 2-hour trip to Tampa took about 3 hours. We got to our hotel around 9PM. We were prepared for the boys to get all excited and knew it was hopeless to try to put them to bed right away, so we let them stay up and horse around while we unpacked. We did NOT expect them to still be up and wired and running around and playing and carrying on after 1:00 in the morning, however. Those boys would not settle down. And the real problem was Andrew! He would not let his big brothers sleep. He would pick at their feet, pull the sheets on the bed, grab their fingers and hands, crawl all around, bellow out; in general, make a bunch of noise and mess and would not go to sleep! Even Alex was ready to give it up at this point, but the baby would have none of that sleeping nonsense.

So the next morning, after about only 2 hours of combined sleep, the boys were up and raring to go before 7AM. We went to breakfast, which was such a catastrophe I nearly cried. Alex wanted peach yogurt, demanded peach yogurt, and I hate to say no to him when it's something healthy, so he got peach yogurt. Problem is: Andrew is severely allergic to peaches, so I needed to make sure the peach yogurt was not where it could be grabbed and gobbled up by Andrew, and end up in the emergency room on our vacation weekend (he's THAT allergic). So I put Alex next to Austin with his yogurt, and Andrew across and away on the other side of the table. That was my first mistake. Austin grabbed the yogurt and dumped it out and smeared it all over his face, all over his chest and down to his belly, legs, and his booster chair. Sticky, peach yogurt.
Next mistake. Trying to eat pancakes. Put a plate of eggs, sausage and pancakes on the table for Alex and Austin. Grabbed a couple of small containers of syrup. Set them down on the table. Turned my back for 3 SECONDS to get something and what happens? Austin opened the container of syrup, pours it down behind him, between his back and the chair, so it's now all over his back, stuck to his clothes and the nicely upholstered chair, and then he leans back and wiggles into his chair, just to make sure it's all squished and smeared over every possible inch of himself and the chair. Just wonderful.

Next: Alex spills orange juice and milk, and then dumps lemon wedges into what's left of his peach yogurt. I'm ready to scream, the hotel staff come over to compliment me on how cute the boys look (they are all in stars and stripes hats and outfits for the 4th of July). I try to stay calm, Pete takes over and tells me to go to another table, sit down and EAT! Great idea! I get a plate and start filling it. Alex feels sorry for me sitting alone and asks if he can come sit with me. OK, I say. He sits across from me. I see a lady go by with a plate filled with a fresh made waffle (not the yucky, stuck-in-a-steamer pancakes, not frozen waffles heated in a toaster, but real, from scratch, fresh waffles), and I decide that's what I want for breakfast. I fix my waffle, add strawberries and whipped cream to it. I set my plate on the table across from Alex and go back for silverware. My helpful, loving, caring son decides that the strawberries and whipped cream just are not enough for Mommy's waffles and, while I was up from my chair, dear, dear Alex decides to add his own ingredient to my breakfast: a HUGE helping of pepper, as in the whole pepper shaker! Right on my waffle and strawberries and whipped cream! I decide breakfast is done at this point. I'll just eat a granola bar.

So we go back to our room and get cleaned up and dressed for what is now the second time this day, and it's only 9AM. Around 9:30 AM, after getting back from the store, our company arrives: Andrew's birth mother (Casey) and her family: her mom, Lorraine (grandma 'Rain), her brother Matt, her uncle Benny, and Casey's 94-year-old great-grandmother, who is Andrew's great-great grandmother, from Italy, known simply as "Granny". My parents and Aunt Boo-boo join us around 11:00 and we spent the day swimming in the pool, and lounging in the room, having holiday bar-b-q from Sonny's, and just generally having a great time. The boys, of course, put on quite the show, just horsing around and running in circles and dancing and chattering. It was quite the honor and blessing to meet Casey's great-grandmother, and she was so thrilled to meet her first great-great grandchild. Of course, we'd met and spent time with Casey and her mom and stepdad and brother last summer when Andrew was born, and for a couple of short day trips to Busch Garden this Spring, but we really got a chance to spend quality time together over the weekend and I have to tell you: Alex has a huge crush on Casey. He calls her "my Case" and loves to smell her feet (a true sign of true love on Alex's part)!

Here is one example of how accepting Casey's family are of all my boys (not just Andrew). It was mid-afternoon and Alex still had his swim trunks on. He and I had gone to the hotel lobby so I could use the computer and look something up on the internet. While in the lobby, Alex pooped his swim trunks. We headed back to the room and Casey's granny had to leave, so Casey's mom was taking her home. I wanted to speak to speak to Granny a little before she left, and thank her for the presents she brought. But I desperately needed to get Alex cleaned up, and was trying to be delicate and discreet, instead of just saying, "Alex pooped, hang on a minute!" Well, the bathroom was kind of small and had no room to change and clean Alex, and the living room/kitchen area certainly was not appropriate, so I had to change him in the vanity/closet area. Again, I was trying to have some dignity, for myself and for Alex in this whole thing, and didn't want to be just all out gross in changing his swim trunks. But they just had to be changed right away. So we're on the floor, I'm struggling to get the swim trunks off of him without getting the poop on me, when Alex announces, loudly (as always, because he is physically incapable of speaking in an indoor voice) and for the whole world to hear: "Mom, I think I dropped my poop in the living room!" right where everyone was standing and could hear. Now, I rarely apologize for my kids being, well, just kids....and this was one of those moments. So I just laughed and prayed for the best. This proves they are true family, too: they all just laughed.

Casey spent the night with us in the hotel room on Friday night and we set out for Busch Gardens on Saturday. It was another great day there. We saw crocodiles, chimpanzees, gorillas, turtles, birds, ducks, elephants, the African show Katonga, and rode the merry-go-round and rode the sky-ride over Busch Gardens. Austin danced the Cha-cha Slide with the deejay and a bunch of other kids, even Alex tried to dance a little. We watched the ride Sheikra, which is an awful, sadistic, twisting, turning ride from hell with two (not one but TWO) 90 degree drops, straight down, and Alex says when he gets bigger, he's going to ride it. Over my dead body.

We concentrated mostly on seeing shows during this trip, because in previous trips, we had already seen a lot of the animal exhibits. One of the shows I wanted to see was the Pirate Adventure in 4-D. Now here's a little background on Alex and pirates. In spite of the fact that he was a pirate for Halloween in 2006, he has since become afraid of pirates, because one of his Aunt Gloria's friends, an old fart named Nobby, got drunk while dressed up as a pirate one time and really became obnoxious going around saying, "aaarrrgggghhhh! I'll make ya walk the plank, matey!" and other such nonsense. He scared Alex. Nobby is an old, English, retired Navy seaman, and to his credit, with his English accent and craggy, sea-worn face, he makes a really great pirate. However, this one particular time, he was sloppy drunk, and really wouldn't let up on little Alex and scared the baby but good. Now, every time we go out to Gloria's, Alex asks, "pirate not gonna be there, right?" This went on for months. And Nobby thought it was a hoot to carry on like that and would not take the hint to stop. Finally, a few months back, Pete had a talk with Nobby and told him that if he kept it up, we wouldn't come out there anymore if he was going to be around, so Nobby had a talk with Alex and explained that the was a good pirate, not a bad pirate, and promised the pirate would never hurt him or scare him again. Since then, Alex has been OK with pirates, though still not his favorite thing, and he would rather go see the animal exhibits while at Busch Gardens.

Now, back to Busch Gardens. We go to see the pirate show. I even got a picture of Alex out front, standing in front of the pirate exhibit. I knew the show was in 4-D. I did not know it was also going to be special effects on the audience. Casey is holding Andrew, and Austin is on my lap. Alex is in a chair by himself next to me. The show starts. It's OK for a while, then when the pirate ship was being tossed about on the ocean, the special effect was to have water squirted on the audience from the backs of the seats immediately in front of us. Then when the pirates were being attacked by wasps, the special effects was a loud, buzzing, vibrating motion in the seats...you get the picture. Austin and Andrew did OK, being babies, I don't think they knew enough of what was going on to be scared. But Alex was another story. As the show progressed, he got more distressed. What really sent him over the edge was when our seats began shaking and even the floor made a snapping effect of some sort. Alex lost it. He began crying and wanted to leave. However, we were in the middle of the aisle, with crowds all around us, and with Austin on my lap, it was hard to get up. Pete and I managed to cover him up and were trying to comfort him and kind of turn him around in his seat so he couldn't see the screen, but the special effects kept coming. He really hated it. We kept patting him and stroking him and reassuring him, "it'll be over in just a few minutes and then we'll leave. It's OK. Mommy and Daddy are here. It's all right." More tears. Austin and Andrew: just fine. Finally, the show ends. The screen shows a pirate on his ship, looking through his pirate looking glass. It says, "The End". We tell Alex, "Look. See. It says The End. It's all over. It's all done." Alex looks up at the movie screen. Sure enough, the pirate's looking glass turns towards the audience and becomes really, really huge and 4-D and appears to come out of the screen and then, one last, final special effect, our seats give a huge pop and jolt and buzz and crackle and everyone screams. Poor Alex just about jumped out of his skin. That really sent him over the edge. So we sit and hold him while the theater clears out and when the lights are back on and we're standing up to leave, my brave, big boy says, "Mommy, can we PLEASE go see the amals [his word for animals] now" I don't know if we'll ever get him to see another pirate movie ever again!

So that about sums up our Busch Gardens adventure. It started to rain, and it was late in the day, so we headed back to the hotel, where we had BBQ leftovers and Alex proceeded to entertain us with his impersonations of all the animals we had seen that day, and Austin danced to some disco music I found in my old boombox. Even Alex and Andrew got in on the dancing. Alex's dancing consisting of him walking backwards in circles with his arms stuck straight out in front of him, singing, "I'm a backhoe, I'm a backhoe" and Andrew sitting on the floor, bopping his head feverishly back and forth to the music. All is all, a great end to a great weekend and a great 4th of July. After breakfast the next morning, after yet another all-nighter with the Triple A Threat, and finally, when we got home, and they were all in their own beds, the boys CRASHED! Blessed sleep for all!

Mother's Day 2008

2009-09-03T11:26:00.000-07:00

That was a good weekend: we first went to a Mother's Day banquet at church on Friday night. Mom couldn't make it because of work, of course, but Aunt Chris went and there was dinner and then dancing by a troop of young girls, and singing by some members of our church, and a Mother's Day poem read by a youth in our church.

On Sunday after church, the whole family (us, the boys, Mark, Granny, Pawpaw and Aunt Chris) went back to one of favorite places, the Gateway Grand, where we'd been for our Easter brunch. It was, as always, delicious. Austin had his first bite of chocolate mousse there. After brunch, we came back to our house, where we all exchanged Mother's Day cards and gifts...and unbeknownst to any of us ahead of time, we all got the same thing for each other....a fruit, marshmallow and chocolate Edible Arrangement!

After naps that afternoon, we went to the duck pond to spend a lazy afternoon feeding the ducks. It was a relaxed, enjoyable time, but a lot of other families must have had that idea for Mother's Day too, because the ducks hardly ate any bread at all. But Alex had a good time...he kept running very close to the water's edge, making me a nervous wreck. Austin was fascinated by it all, kept pointing, grunting and yelling, "dat"! But after hours spent there, trudging through duck doo-doo, bird doo-doo, mucky, muddy water, and two poopy diaper changes while there, Alex decided he'd had enough. He announced, loudly and firmly, "Let's go, this place is a mess!"
Discriminating this fella, eh?

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

2009-08-13T07:17:00.000-07:00

Let me start by making something absolutely clear: I am petrified of snakes. Over-the-top; screaming, hysterical, pathologically afraid of snakes. Don’t try to talk me out of it. It won’t work. Nothing personal, I’m just afraid of snakes.

OK, so here goes the story. It was a Friday night, around 9 or 10. Kids asleep, I settle into a big, comfy chair to cuddle and get some long-overdue alone time with hubby. I’m pretty relaxed, it’s Friday, after all, nothing pressing over the weekend. So I’m looking forward to some kiss and cuddle time. Hubby is channel-surfing and what does he land on? “Snakes on a Plane”. There goes my nice, relaxed, affectionate evening. Hubby has learned, over many years, the HARD way, what the sight of snakes does to me. He doesn’t even try to take me off the ledge. Just a kiss good-night, with a helpful, “go take a Tylenol PM”, and a pat on the back.

The following Sunday, after church and brunch, we’re back at my parents’ house. Alex goes into the backyard with his grandpa. Suddenly, we hear Alex, “mommy, daddy, mommy, daddy” and hear some grunting from my father. We bolt outside and standing in my mother’s vegetable garden is my then-3-year-old, jumping up and down with excitement, pointing and shouting, “Look what PawPaw’s got!” There stands my 75 year old father, with about a 5-foot snake around his arm and shoulder.......(note to self: breathe deeply, you can do this)...then, as if that alone is not enough to cause me to nearly wet my britches, the snake reaches around and bites my dear old dad on the hand...blood, Alex screaming, jumping up and down....my mother screaming at my father, my husband going over to help my dad. I grab both babies, the (then) 8 month old and the 14 month old, and run out the front door of my parents house and into the street, screaming over my shoulder at my husband to grab Alex and follow me. My brother follows me out to try to calm me down (worthless attempt). I’m hyperventilating, the babies are crying, struggling, kicking, thrashing...I start doing the same.

Finally, my mother comes out to tell me it’s safe to return to the house. I very tentatively go out on the porch to find Alex and there, in the corner of the back yard, are my son, my husband and my dad, still with the stupid snake. “We just wanted to let Alex watch is slither under the fence and say bye-bye.” Yeah, right. I told my husband in no uncertain terms that if he did not get Alex and leave with me right away, I would “slither” my own way home with the kids, and he’d be lucky to ever see us again. OK, so I survived that...for the most part.

Sunday evening, 5PM. As a reward for Alex finally becoming fully potty-trained, we talked him out of a rabbit as a pet and into turtles, figuring they’d be less messy and less maintenance. So Mommy and Alex head to the pet store. I feared they’d have snakes there, but figured they’d be in a certain section of the store that I could simply avoid. NOT! We walk into PetSmart and RIGHT THERE, by the cashier, is the SNAKE PIT! Alex is drawn to it, of course. I manage to grab him and half-drag, half-pull my 45 pounder away from the snake tanks, praying to find some nice, safe turtles very quickly. No such luck. We wander around for a few minutes, looking for turtles, and/or for a sales clerk to help us.

No turtles for sale at PetSmart. I am told I need to go to the reptile/snake place on SW 34th Street to find turtles...yeah, when monkeys fly out of my butt will I go in there. Alex is heart-broken, no turtles, so to appease his melodrama and screaming like a banshee, we get some fish and are trying to hustle out of the store before it closes at 6PM.

Now, as I said before the SNAKE PIT is right by the cashier, the only one cashier line open, and I get in line, a LONG line, because they’ve just announced they are closing in ten minutes. I am feeling anxious, but literally turn my back completely on the snakes, close my eyes, and pray for an express line to open up. Alex keeps wandering over there to the snakes. I’m trying to carry my gorilla-sized purse, three cups of fish, the new fish tank, the gravel, the accessories, the fish flakes, all while standing in the middle of my worst nightmare: 3 feet from a squirming, writhing, slithery pack of snakes. (FYI: I’m actually shaking right now just remembering).

I keep walking with my back turned, trying to drag Alex away from the snakes, and keep the fish from spilling and from losing my purse. Alex keeps going back. He’s now joined by a man with an older boy, who both seem to find great delight in my obvious distress (i.e., coronary). The boy appears to really want to educate Alex about these awful, hideous creatures, and Alex is lapping it up, oblivious to the onset of my mounting panic attack.

This continues for several minutes, me grabbing Alex, him running back, me panting and choking up and Alex laughing. Then, one of the snakes starts slithering up the side of the tank, belly-ing up, and that older boy taps the glass to point out something to Alex. The snake rears it’s head back and snaps or spits or strikes, or something, I don’t know what, because I’m now screaming and shaking and sobbing, having abandoned the fish, my purse and just grabbing Alex to run.

A very nice lady, a mom, comes over to me and asks if I need help....can she call someone for me, etc. One of the clerks comes over and gathers up all my stuff and moves it to the far, far register, away from the snakes. Alex finally sees Mommy totally going bat-bleep crazy, and decides he better shape up and help out.

They get me some water, hover over me, probably fearing they’ll need to call the cops or DCF on this wack job of a mom. I’m crying, hiccupping, shaking, sweating, beet-red, and finally manage to explain that it’s not my child I’m upset with, it’s my (I told you so) pathological fear of snakes. They offer to help me out to my car, again offer to call someone, everyone is being very nice and kind and understanding, but still looking at me like you would a rabid dog, or a mental-institute escapee.

We manage to make our purchases, get out of the snake pit, and, wouldn’t you know it, as we’re walking back to the car, me trembling along the sidewalk in front of PetSmart and towards Goody’s, fish and son in hand, the palm trees that are growing out of that center area (for those of you who know what and where I”m talking about), have a lot of roots coming up out of the ground, twisting, curling, curving around and about, looking like: you guessed it: SNAKES!

Naturally, last night, all I dreamed about were snakes....and this morning, my husband is playing some ska and reggae music from the St. Vincent carnival and on the cover of the CD shows the carnival parade, with people dressed up as a paper dragon, kind of like Chinese new year, which, to my tired, swollen and crusty eyes this morning, looked for all the world like a SNAKE.

That was just not my weekend, eh?

Vacation 2008

2009-07-30T11:22:00.001-07:00

Our Memorial Day mini-vacation for 2008 got started much like it did in May of 2007:
with a true test of our patience and determination. We got packed, loaded, everyone was in the van, we start to back out the driveway and Pete pushes the button on the remote to close the garage door. The garage door, previously having had no problems whatsoever, jumps off its tracks and crashes to the ground, crumpling and shattering all the glass that was in the garage door windows! It was like it was possessed...by our recurrent vacation demons. Naturally, we stopped, got out of the van and checked out the damage and what could be done about it....all the while with Alex jumping up and down with excitement, screaming, "Look! See! What happened? What we gonna do? We gonna fix it? We gonna call a bulldozer to clean it up? We gonna call a high lift to pick it up?" Only Alex would find sheer and utter delight in such a nuisance. We did the only thing we could do on late Friday afternoon holiday weekend: we got back in the van and drove off on vacation.

The first day at SeaWorld was somewhat uneventful, except for the thunderstorm we got caught in....of all places, at the sting ray lagoon and shark tank! We were there when the thunderstorm hit out of nowhere...buckets of rain, thunder, lightning, so we were stuck there. At least is was under cover. But what made me anxious after about 20 minutes was that so many people were crowded in there, trying to get cover from the rain, and it was crowded and loud and noisy and thundering, it made the sharks and sting rays anxious, and they started snapping and jumping up near the top of the water...all with my babies right there! I was really getting nervous, and we were stuck in there for about 45 minutes! What a heart-thudding time! We also visited Turtle Point, and saw the show, "Blue Horizons" (the dolphin show) and "The Adventures of Clyde and Seamore" where Alex got to feed the sea otters! We also visited the Dolphin Cove and the dolphin nursery, where mommy and new born baby dolphins are kept! The guy narrating about the dolphin nursery was named Alex, and at one point, we were standing immediately to his right, when Austin grabbed his microphone and bellowed into it, to be broadcast far and wide, in his own high-pitched, demon-summoning, ear-piercing way, "dadadadada, bobobobobobob, b000000b000000, deeeeeedeeeeee, mamamamamamama!" Yes, we have arrived! Leave it to my crew to make their presence known at SeaWorld!

The second day was a lot better, the rain from the day before had cooled things off considerably, and the day was very pleasant. We visited Shamu's Happy Harbour (a toddler playground) and saw the Clydesdale horses in a parade, visited the Manatee exhibit (no goldfish turds this year), and visited the Antarctic exhibit, where we saw the penguin habitat, the polar bear exhibit, walruses and whales. The walruses absolutely fascinated Alex, the kept performing, swimming around, rubbing their faces and butts and bellies on the rocks in the aquarium...Alex just loved them, their whiskers, their tusks, their flippers....I'm expecting any day now to be asked if we can get one and keep it in our bathtub at home!

Our third day there, Alex won a SpongeBob Square Pants stuffed...(not animal, not doll) stuffed....SPONGE from the giant claw machine at the midway! He's not a huge SpongeBob fan, but you'd have thought he won a million dollars, he was so proud of that sponge! We saw a very unique circus show called Odyssea where it proved that SeaWorld has acrobatic talent to rival Las Vegas! It was a fascinating show, but it didn't hold the kids' attention long. Luckily it was a short show! Of course, we had to see the show, "Believe", which is the Shamu show. It never fails to amaze and entertain, and Alex got a necklace made out of a wooden carving of a whale's tail as a souvenir!

And lastly, the show Alex really wanted to see was "Pets Ahoy"! It's a stage show done entirely by trained pets: cats, dogs, birds and pot-bellied pigs. No people, just pets. Every time on each day there, by the time we got to the theater, the show was full or had already started, or had been canceled due to a stage prop malfunction....so here it was, our last day, and it was mid-afternoon...we were going to see this show one way or another! We get in a LONG line, outside in the heat, and then inside a hot, crowded hallway.... and wait. FINALLY, we get in there. We get our seats, settle in, and are waiting for the show to begin when, guess what, Alex falls asleep! We tried to wake him, but he would NOT wake up! We enjoyed the show, but were nervous about the hissy fit to come when Alex woke up and realized he missed the show. And while he was sprawled out sleeping, he also pooped his pants! And the diaper bag is outside with the parked stroller. So that was fun. When the show ended, the animal handlers invited everyone to come down to the stage and meet and greet the animals. So Pete took the babies outside and Alex and I (when he woke up at the end of the show) get at the end of a long line to meet the animals. I don't know how else to say this, but this huge dog that had been in the show, that is now at the opposite end of the line we're standing in smells Alex. His dirty diaper, I mean. So this sweet, gentle, although huge, hairy dog, makes a beeline for Alex. For Alex's rear end, to be exact. I'm trying to pull Alex away, he's reaching for the dog, wanting to pet and play with him, and the dog is sniffing and trying to put his nose down Alex's pants, and the dog's handler is pulling, tugging, trying to get the dog back to the front of the line where he belongs! What fun! I'm praying no one figures out why this dog has made such instant best
friends with my son's butt! I didn't want to give Alex a tantrum by dragging him out of the theater without seeing the animals, especially since he'd missed the show! But I also don't want this beautiful white show dog to reach down Alex's drawers and come up with the noseful of poop, either! Lord, please help me!

Eventually, Alex got squirmy from the dirty diaper, the trainers took the animals backstage, and we left. Whew! But, the fun isn't over yet, because Alex still wants to see the show! So, we've done everything else there is to do, it's late in the day, and by the time I change three boys' diapers and get a cold drink, the next show is in 20 minutes, so Pete takes Austin for a walk by the sprinklers and the little "beach" area they have, and Mommy, Alex and Andrew get back in line for the show. For me, it was just as enjoyable the second time in a row, even more so, because Alex truly loved, loved, loved the show. It was worth standing in that hot line just to watch Alex's face and eyes and smile light up every time a new animal took the stage and did a stunt. Truly, there's nothing like having kids to really wake you up to the joy and fun that is all around us...if we'll just take the time to look and see.

So this time, at the end of the show, Alex wants to pet the animals again. Stand in line again for that, this time without big dogs making beelines for Alex's butt, and for some reason, Alex becomes very, very timid. He loves animals, and it's only cats and dogs on stage for the meet and greet, and he's been around cats and dogs since birth! So I don't know all of a sudden why he got so timid. He kept going to the back of the line to "just watch, Mommy". Finally, the line is down to just us and a couple of other kids, and the animals are waiting to be petted. Alex kept saying, over and over and over again, "do they have big teeth, Mommy? Will they bite me, Mommy?" Over and over...he'd reach his hand out and then pull it back. I was petting the animals, Andrew was petting the animals, but Alex was so afraid of their "big teeth" and getting "bit" he barely managed to touch the pets. So after a few minutes of this, he says "thank you" to the animal handlers, and then, of all things, loudly announces, "now it's time to go play with the sharks!" Uh, hello, he's afraid of big teeth and getting bit by a little kitten, but he wants to go play with the sharks? Everyone cracked up at that announcement! As I've said many times before, only Alex!

Time for a Trim!

2009-07-13T12:29:00.001-07:00

Alex and Austin decided to play barber shop one day. Both boys were in the bathroom while Pete was dressing and shaving for Family Dinner Night, and Alex was watching Pete very closely while Pete used his side burn trimmer. He asked questions, Pete answered questions, and when Pete put it up and away after he was done, he made the colossal mistake of turning his back for one moment. The boys got ahold of the sideburn trimmer, took it outside, Austin sat down on the steps and bent his head down, and Alex proceeded to shave Austin's head! Yep, our middle son is now known as baboon butt! We don't even know what to do with it. There is no pattern to it. Just one big streak on the top, middle of his head, and then a big, round spot on the back of his head. Pete says at least Austin looks a little like him now.

When Pete found them, he had to walk away, he was laughing so hard. It was much later before he could actually talk to Alex about the possible dangers of what he had just done, without laughing. Austin doesn't seem to mind it, and it's only hair: it'll grow back. But it is funny looking, to see our little, round jock Austin, now with this weird, half-reverse mohawk haircut! When Austin gets older, I'm afraid Alex is going to have to look out! At the very least, I'm sure Austin will wait until one night when Alex is asleep and then paint his fingernails, or draw a magic-marker mustache on Alex, or both! Boys!

New arrival!

2009-06-29T12:24:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be taking a brief break from blogging for a while.....to enjoy and lap up every moment I can with my newborn daughter, Marley. She arrived safe and sound at 9:25 PM on Saturday, June 20, 2009. 6 pounds, 8 ounces and 18.5 inches long. 8 and 8 on her apgar. She is a beautiful, healthy baby girl with the blackest, fullest head of hair I've ever seen on a newborn. Pics to follow when I can....but she's safe, she's ours, and she's home. Many thanks for all your prayers and support.

Potty Training Alex

2009-06-12T08:03:00.000-07:00

It began with an article I found, "Potty Training in One Day" and we followed that up with the one book I always swore I would never buy, "Everybody Poops". In the days leading up to the big day, we tried talking to Alex about it. He had #1 mastered for many months; our trouble now was getting him trained for #2. Here's how it went.

Mommy: Alex, we need to talk. Tomorrow is going to be a very big day for you.

Alex: Uh-huh.

Mommy: Alex, would you like to not to wear pullups anymore, not like your little baby brothers do?

Alex: OK.

Mommy: You're a big boy now, and you need to learn to not poop in your diapers anymore.

Alex: OK, mommy.

Mommy: Did you know that everyone poops?

Alex: Uh-huh.

Mommy: And grown up boys poop in the potty!

Alex: Yeah.

Mommy: Andrew poops and Austin poops, but they poop in their diapers, and they're babies, and that's OK for babies.

Alex: OK.

Mommy: But you're not a baby, you're a big boy, so you need to not poop in your pants. OK?

Alex: Uh-huh.

Mommy: You need to put your poopies in the toilet, like grown up people, coz everyone poops. Mommy poops, Daddy poops...

Alex: Daddy poops!

Mommy: Yes, Alex, Daddy poops...everyone poops!

Alex: And farts.

Mommy: Well, yes.

Alex: Daddy farts.

Mommy: Well, yes, Daddy farts, but this is not about farting. This is about pooping.

Alex: Mommy? Daddy farts a lot.

Mommy: Uh-huh, OK, Daddy farts a lot...

Alex: And loud. Daddy farts loud, mommy.

Mommy: (Trying not to laugh) Alex, pay attention, we're not talking about farting, we're talking about pooping.

Alex: Daddy farts loud and he farts lots of times, mommy.

Mommy: (Trying not to laugh)...mmhh, OK, I know that, but I need you to put on your listening ears and pay attention. We need to talk about pooping right now. Not farting.

Alex: Daddy farts every day, mommy, sometimes bunches and bunches of times every day.

Mommy: (Trying very hard not to laugh): Alex, now listen...

Alex: Austin farts and Andrew farts, too.

Mommy: (About to bust out laughing now) Yes, they do, but Alex, pay attention.

Alex: Mommy? Mommy? I will fart! I will fart like Daddy and Austin and Andrew fart! I will fart loud! I will fart loud like this (stands up very, very, ramrod straight, arms at each side, eyes wide open, and he opens his mouth, wide, very wide, to where you can see his tonsils and screams, oh, so very loudly: AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Mommy: Oh, Lord. (Gives up....starting laughing)

Alex: (Stands up very straight, very erect and at attention).
"Mommy, I will fart LOUD and everyone will say, (he leans forward and to one side, cocks his head and cups his hand around his ear, like he's listening for something, his eyes darting about, and says), "everyone will say, what was dat noise?"

Mommy: (Tears... laugh....) Pete, help me!

Alex: "And I will say...." looking very sweetly, very innocently at mommy and daddy, Alex says, loudly: "And I will say, "it was THE FART MAN!"

Mommy and Daddy: tears, rolling, falling on the floor with laughter, can't stand up, can't breathe, can't stop laughing.

Alex: sweetly, innocently, "Mommy, Daddy, what's da matter?"

February 2008

2009-06-08T13:15:00.001-07:00

So 2008 was well underway....we celebrated Valentine’s Day with candy and small toys, and then went on a few days later to celebrate Austin’s 1st birthday. I could not believe it....Austin, a year old already. We kept the celebration small. Pizza with the family at my parent’s house, then with a chocolate cake to dive into and gobble up afterwards. What a crazy year it had been

We got home early from Austin’s first birthday party because baby Andrew was scheduled for surgery the next day. I have not mentioned it yet on this blog, but Andrew was born with Amniotic Band Symdrome. You can learn more about it at

While Casey was pregnant with Andrew, he at some point during his development got his right hand caught in the amniotic sac. The amniotic sac, which is fiberous in nature, wound around the middle, ring and pinky fingers on his right hand, causing a disfigurement. His middle finger is intact, and has full function, mobility and circulation, but looks a little creased at the base of the finger. His ring finger was heavily disfigured, the band having wrapped around the finger at the base and causing it to swell up and look like a small sausage. The ring finger, though, no matter what it looked like, also had full mobility and circulation. His pinky finger, however, was severed while inutero, leaving only the smallest of stumps in place of his finger.

So our task at hand was to find an orthopedic surgeon and come up with a plan to make Andrew’s hand a little more functional and a lot less disfigured looking. The city we live in has one of the top hand surgeons in the country, and we met with him and just love, love, love this doctor. We were given a number of options for little Andrew, and after a few months and making sure he was old enough and strong enough for surgery, he was scheduled for the first of several surgeries on February 21st.

The short version of a long story is that Andrew came through just fine. The surgery took a lot less time that I imagined it would, and he was such a trooper, laughing and punch-drunk from the anesthesia in the recovery room afterwards. That is, after getting his morphine. When we first saw him, he was beet red and ticked off! He wanted his mommy and daddy, not these strange nurses holding him. So after getting tangled up in his IV cords and nearly tripping and killing us both, I settled in for a soothing rock with my youngest. After about an hour of peace and quiet, they discharged him and sent us home, with my baby in a full cast up to his shoulder, to be worn for the next 6 weeks!

And I have to wonder who that 6 weeks was worse on...Andrew, being the one in the cast; us - his parents, watching him learn to crawl all hiked up with that cast; or his brothers, for being the recipients of many, many bonks on the head by their baby brother, wish his very own, built in baseball bat for a right arm!

Kids...making lemonda outta lemons, huh?

A conversation with Alex

2009-06-02T08:10:00.000-07:00

So here's another one of Alex's enlightening conversations. It was the day after we'd been to Busch Gardens, and we'd gotten up and gone to church and brunch that morning, so it had been a very lazy afternoon, with everyone napping to catch up on our sleep. We were all a little tired and lazy, and I really wasn't in the mood to cook a lot, or have the boys be fussy about what I cooked, so it was pretty much let everyone eat whatever they want, as long as it's leftovers, or something very easy. Alex is a little grouchy, and it goes like this:

Mommy: What to do want for supper?

Alex (grouchy): I don't want supper.

Mommy: Are you not hungry?

Alex (whiny): Yes, I am hungry!

Mommy: OK, so what to do want to eat?

Alex (whiny): I don't know.

Mommy: Do you want chicken?

Alex (huffy): I want breakfast.

Mommy: Well, that's OK Do you want eggs and sausage?

Alex (grouchy): No!

Mommy: Well, what do you want?

Alex (whiny): I want nuffin.

Mommy: Come on, Alex, tell me what you want...I'm easy tonight. You want waffles?

Alex (whiny): I don't want waffles!

Mommy: OK, you don't have to eat waffles. Just tell me what you want.

Alex (huffy): I want lunch!

Mommy: All right, how about a sandwich, a ham sandwich, and some fruit?

Alex (huffy): No, no samich!

Mommy: Alex, what do you want then, son?

Alex (huffy): I want nuffin!

Mommy: Nuffin?

Alex (grouchy): Yes, I want nuffin!

Mommy: OK, well, let's fry up a great big bowl of nuffin.

Mommy and Daddy get out a big frying pan and pretend to be cooking up a big bunch of nuffin.

Mommy: OK, here it is, Alex, your bowl of nuffin.

Alex: Aaaaahhhhh, I don't want nuffin.

Mommy: Well, remember, you just said you want nuffin. So we fixed you nuffin. Now you don't want nuffin?

Alex: No, I don't want nuffin. I want sumpin.

Mommy: What's sumpin?

Alex: I don't know.

Mommy: Well, what do you want. Just name it and I'll fix it.

Alex: I want dinner!

Mommy: Well, what do you want for dinner....we'll fix whatever you want.

Alex: I don't know what I want.

Mommy: Alex, you have to eat something. Do you want cereal, do you want waffles, do you want a sandwich, do you want pizza, what to you want?

Alex (screeching): MOMMY, I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANT, BUT I WANT IT RIGHT NOW!

Mommy (wisely): Such is life, Alex, trust me, such is life.

God, Backhoes and UFOs

2009-05-26T08:09:00.000-07:00

Having a three year old is a lot of fun...one morning, on the way to school, we saw a lot of backhoes at the construction site across from school. So I purposely drove by the construction site and slowed down so Alex could look, and all you could hear from the back of the van was, "Wow! Mommy! Look at dat backhoe! What is dat, Mommy? That a backhoe?", etc., etc., etc. Then, when we got to the parking lot, every hole in the parking lot, which was caused by the recent rain, every cement glob in the parking lot, every crack in the sidewalk, Alex would ask: "That made by a backhoe?" Or "a backhoe did that?" Then, upon seeing the large sinkhole in front of the education building, Alex asked if that was made by a backhoe. I told him, "no, that is part of the Earth. It's a sinkhole. God made that." Alex then asked, "Did God use a backhoe?" ....I told him yes....now he thinks God is so cool for using a backhoe!

That's Alex's new word, "Cool", that, and "awesome!" You hear that a lot now, "wow, that's cool" or "wow, that's awesome". So if he thinks God is cool and awesome, then we're doing something right! I really think we are, because he now can say his own prayers, and, when we do the nighttime prayers and we ask God to bless everyone, he always says, at the very end, "And God Bless Jesus!"

However, one night Alex was playing with his wrecker truck. He noticed where the hook part on the back of the wrecker was missing, so he says: "Mommy, where my hooker? I need a hooker!" I was a little distracted from across the playroom and did not see what he was doing, so I jerked my head up real quick and looked over at him and said, "WHAT?" He saw my reaction and said, again, "Mommy, I need a hooker...now! Get me a hooker!" I could only think to myself, please, Lord, don't let him be saying things like this at school or church! It's so hard when they say funny things to not just burst out laughing! I say again, only Alex!

We had a couple of very gruesome experiences with more UFOs recently. Actually, Aunt Chris saw her first UFO the day of Andrew's surgery. She and dad were watching Austin and Alex while Mom, Pete and I were at the hospital during Andrew's surgery. She found a UFO (unidentified food object) in the play room. She said at first she thought it was a piece of sausage, but after closer inspection, she determined that it had, in it's former life, been some variety of pasta. The jury is still out on that exact determination. Pasta's good enough for me! And then last night, I had all three of the boys in the play room and was trying to turn Austin around on my lap. My hand grabbed his belly to turn him and I felt something around his belly button. I looked at it, and it was either: 1) the biggest, jumbo-sized, greenest, gooiest, stickiest booger EVER KNOWN TO MANKIND; or 2) a chewed-up, spit-out piece of green-grape Fruit Roll-Up. I do not know, but Austin and mommy underwent a sink full of handwashing right then, just to be safe. As anyone who knows me know....I'll trade you 10 poppy diapers to one snotty nose, any day of the week. Anything below the waist, I can handle...it's all the "stuff" from the neck up that I grow weak in the knees at...and with three little boys 3 and under...there's a lot of both!

Life With 3 boys goes on!

2009-05-19T13:06:00.000-07:00

So we roll into 2008 in our new house, with our three boys. Austin, in one day, started saying 3 new words: cookie, thank you, and kit-cat. It started one morning, he was looking at the cookie jar and was babbling, so I wasn't paying too much attention, but then, all of sudden, he said, "cookie" and pointed. So I happily gave him one, and said, "OK, Austin, what do we say? We say thank you." And he looked at me and said it. Sort of babbled it, of course, but you could understand him. Then, old Luck-luck came into the room, and Austin is just fascinated with him, and out of the blue, he said, "kit-cat!" Three new words, in one day!

One Sunday, Alex really hammed it up at Sunday brunch himself. We were with Aunt Chris and, as usual, we were the loudest, messiest people there. We always take a table near the back, so people can avoid us if they wish. Well, next to us one aisle over was a group of older ladies, just out of church, too, having a nice brunch. Very sweet, very peaceful (well, as peaceful as it gets sitting near us). Austin is going through a food-throwing stage and Alex is just Alex. Always a puddle around him. He likes blowing bubbles through his straw now. And Andrew dropped his bottle and the top came off and formula went everywhere. Napkins everywhere, straw wrappers everywhere, wet wipes everywhere, juice boxes falling over, food on the floor. A true zoo. So near the end of the meal, Alex gets down from his chair and is standing by Austin's high chair at the end of the table. Alex steps right into all the mess on that end of the table. Alex announces, very loudly, just so the whole restaurant can hear, "good heavens, Austin, what a mess! This place is a pig pen!" (Hhhmm, where do you think he picked up that, huh?)

Then, later that night, our grandson Jared come over to spend the night. Jared was 7 to Alex's 3 years old at the time. Now, Alex had not managed to get a nap in this day, and was edgy and tired. However, he was so ecstatic to see Jared, he got just downright nutty. At one point, Alex and Jared were sitting together side-by-side on the couch, reading (well, Jared was reading, Alex was listening and looking at the pictures). Alex had a dirty (number 2) diaper and Jared smelled it, so he moved away. Alex scooted over by him. Jared got up and moved to the other couch. Alex followed. I finally got a whiff of the problem, and checked Alex's butt. Yep, time for a diaper change. Off to the changing table. Alex threw a royal fit, a real fit, struggling and crying and mad. He thought I was taking him away from playing with Jared. I tried to explain that I just wanted to change his diaper and would take him back to play with Jared, but the conversation went like this:

Me: Alex, calm down, I need to change your diaper.

Alex (crying): Why?

Me: Coz it's messy.

Alex (crying): Why?

Me: Because you pooped in your pants instead of telling your daddy or me that you need to go potty.

Alex (crying): Why?

Me: I don't know why, you know you should tell us and we'll help you go potty.

Alex (crying): Why?

Me: Because we want you to be clean and not poop your pants.

Alex (calming down): What you doing now?

Me: Putting a clean diaper on you.

Alex: Why?

Me (getting frustrated): Because you need a clean diaper on your bottom.

Alex: Why?

Me (very frustrated now): Why, what, Alex?

Alex: Why you puttin' a new diaper on me?

Me (exasperated now to the point of tears): Just because. You tell me why.

Alex: Well, I don't know why. Coz I'm just gonna poop it again!

Welcome to my world!

Back to the Time-Line Driven Blog here - 2008 begins

2009-05-15T08:52:00.000-07:00

The year 2008 dawned with us continuing to settle into our new house, recover from the holidays, and pray that I recover from the flu. On January 3rd, 2008, we welcomed a new baby into the family...but this time, our grandchild! Lukas, second born son of my step-son and his wife, was born bringing the current total of little boys in our immediate family to 8! A healthy baby, a happy family, and almost our own baseball team...what better way to start the new year!

On January 8, 2008, for the very first time, unassisted, at 10 ½ months, our middle son, Austin, took his very first steps! What a big boy he was. He really took off after that...by January 13, he was completely walking everywhere on his own, but then it was on to climbing, climbing and more climbing. On his second day of walking, he discovered climbing, and even managed to get up onto the bathroom counter!

January 8, 2008 was a big day for another reason: at 1:45 PM, we had the final hearing for Andrew's adoption! He was now and forever officially ("fish-al" according to Alex) OURS!

A week later it was time to celebrate my birthday, and I must have been really sick for the last few months, because my entire family took enough pity on me to get me almost a year’s worth of spa gift certificates! Oh, the massages I was gonna get with those! Relaxation here I come!

Alex is such a good big brother to Austin (rooti-tooti) and Andrew (mody), his nicknames for his brothers. He used to get a little jealous sometimes, especially in the mornings when we would get the babies up and carry them in to the kitchen. Alex wanted to be carried in to the kitchen, too. But at 43 pounds, he was just too heavy to carry anymore. So I would try to get him to hold hands and walk, but some mornings, he just didn't want to. So he'd stand in the hallway and cry, "But mommy, you have to carry me! I'll fall if you don't!" I'd tell him, "No, you won't fall. You're a big boy!" So he'd take a couple of steps, then with such drama and exaggeration you would not believe it, he'd throw himself down on the hallway floor, start crying and say, "See, mommy, I told you I'd fall down!" And the wailing, sobbing and whining begins. What drama! The Academy Awards committee needs to keep their eyes on him. Where does he get it?

During the first weeks at the new house, we watched a lot of HGTV for ideas on projects for our new house. You hear on HGTV a lot phrases like "3-bedroom, 2.5 bath", or "4 bedroom, 3 and a half bath''; "Living room, dining-room, den, curbside appeal" , etc. Alex really picked up on a lot of these phrases and began to walk through our house counting the bedrooms and bathrooms, saying "curb-side appeal", "large lot", and other real estate lingo. And, at other people's houses, or even just driving through the neighborhood, he'd say, "that house has 4 bedrooms, 2 and a half bath!" Or "that house has play room!" If Hollywood doesn't work out for him, real estate may be his thing!

Along that line, he woke me up early one morning to watch cartoons. It was still very early and the infomercials were still airing on television. He must have seen one about credit counseling, because he woke me at 6 AM, saying "have too much credit card debt? Call us now or apply online!" I was just praying he didn't catch a late-night or early morning Viagra commercial...and then with my luck, start talking about erectile disfunction as church or school!

Yup, 2008 was starting off to be a banner year at our house! The year of the Triple A Threat!

This Tagging Game

2009-05-13T06:19:00.000-07:00

OK, apparently while I've been busy with tax season, two trials coming up at work, adding two rooms and a deck to our house, raising 3 boys and preparing for the arrival of our latest addition due to be born in 6 weeks, I've been TAGGED by two friends and fellow bloggers, and I'm just now getting around to tagging it forward. Wow, am I bad at this or what? And my brain is so fried these days with everything going on that I actually had to print out the rules to this tag game in order to remind me to follow through, and then do it. Please bear with me...the baby isn't even here yet, and I'm already walking around in a daze....

OK, the rules to the tag game are:

Mention the blogger that tagged you and be sure to link to them. I was tagged by Beth at and by Lisa at http://pinkinahouseofblues.blogspot.com/. They are both great moms, great people and great bloggers, so please go check them out!

Next, post your lists of 8s.

Then tag 8 bloggers of your choice and tell them!

OK, here goes, folks:

8 Favorite Foods:

1) Pizza
2) Tacos
3) Fettucine Alfredo, or for that matter, anything Italian
4) Sub sandwiches
4) Eggs, almost any way you can cook 'em
5) Chocolate chip cookies, warm right out of the oven
6) Peanut Butter milkshakes
7) My mom's potatoe salad
8) Grilled cheese sandwich and tomatoe soup

8 Things I'm Looking Forward To

1) The birth of our daughter next month
2) Our vacation starting next Friday
3) Losing 20 more pounds
4) Getting all this [bleeping] work done on the house....FINALLY
5) Getting my hair done next week
6) Finishing my Cherish Bound family projects
7) The birth of our latest grandchild in October
8) Cooler weather in the Fall

8 Things I Did Yesterday

1) Got up EARLY
2) Worked on Cherish Bound
3) Put in full day at office
4) Went to my Weight Watchers meeting
5) Went to Wal-Mart and got the boys their sleeping bags
6) Played "Snaggle-Tooth Loader truck games" with Alex
7) Talked to my mom about her eye surgery today
8) Watched an episode on DVD of Desperate Housewives

8 Things I Want To Do Before I Die

1) Have a HUGE family reunion
2) Vacay in Mexico, Hawaii, Asia, Africa and Italy
3) See my kids all grow up and be happy, healthy, successful, responsible and respectful, and just overall good people
4) Go back to playing piano, violin and clarinet, learn guitar
5) Write a book
6) Travel extensively with my family and expose my kids to as much of the country and the world as I can
7) Start a charitable organization
8) Make sure that everyone I love, knows how much I love them

8 Shows I Watch

1) Desperate Housewives
2) Law and Order
3) Law and Order SVU
4) Jon & Kate Plus 8
5) ER
6) House
7) Anything on HGTV
8) Anything on the Travel Channel

8 Way In Which I Kill Time

1) Read
2) Blog
3) Email
4) Watch TV
Honestly, I just don't have a lot of time to kill....

8 Bloggers...TAG, YOU'RE IT!

1)
2)
3)
4)
5)
6)
7)
8)

Wishing all of you a great day! MUAH!

December 2007

2009-05-08T06:55:00.000-07:00

Well, we survived the three big meals in one week during Thanksgiving week, and I probably gained 20 pounds that week alone. You would think with all that good food in me, that I would have stayed well for a while, but I did not. I fell sick again, just at the end of November. I was gasping, rasping sick on the day we closed on our new house, December 3rd. We were scheduled to move the next day, and I had planned on going to work, but I woke up barely able to breath. Quite literally, barely able to breath. I scared Pete horribly with the way I looked and sounded, and was rushed to the doctor's office and sent home with more drugs than skid row, and banished to my bed, which was kinda hard to do considering they were loading my bed up for the move.

I ended up not going to work the rest of that week, and barely managed to do anything to assist in the move. The first thing assembled at the new house was my bed, and I crawled in it and stayed there (and my new hot tub) for the better part of a week.

Uncle Albert and Aunt Nell come to visit from their home in Alabama to (1) help with the move and the kids; and (2) take home the parts of the screen porch from the old house, now affectionately known as the "Roach House" ever since Alex found a dead cockroach in the garage on one of many trips back to the house to finish moving out. They stayed for about a week, and we had an early Christmas with them. We even managed to put up a small Christmas tree we found in the move. Between that, some candy canes, some Christmas music on the radio, and some hot cocoa, we did manage to fool ourselves into thinking we were celebrating Christmas.

I again rallied just long enough in mid-December to actually look human for our family holiday pictures. I even managed to get them sent out, along with our annual holiday newsletter. I also forced myself to attend our annual adoption Christmas party, where Pete plays Santa every year, but other than that, and our annual Christmas Eve children's service at church, followed by the traditional family gathering at Gloria's place, for the most part, the month of December passed in a blurry, congested, drugged haze (for me) of packing, moving, hacking, coughing, dripping, sneezing, aching, wrapping (presents), unwrapping (moving boxes and presents) and a general flurry of activity for a working mom of three babies who just moved, while sick, in the month of December.

How I ever survived that month I will never know...just please, dear Lord, don't ever make me repeat that again every in my life.

November 2007

2009-04-24T07:38:00.001-07:00

November of 2007 went something like this for me: cough, cough, hack, hack, wrap, wrap, pack, pack. Between being sick for the 8th month in a row, we were packing to move. I do not recall a lot of that month, for between working, taking care of an almost-3-year-old and two babies, packing to move, and dripping, sneezing and coughing up my body weight every week in phlem, I was exhausted.

I did rally a few days near the end of the month for three giant, celebratory meals. The first being my parents' wedding anniversary dinner on Monday night, and for Thanksgiving just three days later, and then the babies' baptism, three days after that. I realized just in time: "Hey! Thanksgiving is in a few days." My house was a wreck and I was still weak from being so sick, so it was Grill Masters for the anniversary dinner, and the Holiday Inn to the rescue for Thanksgiving Day dinner. It was a wonderful, lovely, delicious buffet. And don't tell Martha Stewart, but I actually kinda liked not having to clean house, cook, serve, and then clean house again after the meal. Maybe I was on to something here, perhaps? At any rate, Thanksgiving of 2007, while a little different, was just so very thankful, for this year we had not one, but TWO new babies to be eternally grateful for.

And then, just like we did with Alex's baptism two years earlier, we held Austin and Andrew's of the Sunday immediately following Thanksgiving. Friends and family were all there to love us and show their support.

Another blessed day, which thankfully I remained feeling pretty well for, and then a wonderful lunch afterwards with family and friends at First Place cafe.

Father, I commit this Baptism Day into Your most precious and loving hands. I believe that by Your crucifixion on the Cross, my old self was rendered powerless and I was freed from all sin. You were raised from the dead that I too may live a life victorious and overcoming all evil.

Father, this day, I rededicate myself to live in You and live a life for Your glory. I remember the day when I was baptized and washed off all my sins. Lord, it is Your grace that I must be counted worthy to be called Your child. Help me to keep Your commandments. Renew my strength this day that I may be strong in faith and increase in zeal. Preserve me for the glorious day of Your coming. I believe Your Word which says, "He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ". Let this day be the beginning. Lead me into greater spiritual depths even in the coming days. In Jesus' precious name I pray.

Halloween 2007

2009-03-31T18:02:00.001-07:00

Life...or what was formerly known as life and is now known as CCC with the AAA...for Constant, Chronic Chaos with Alex, Austin and Andrew...forged ahead. It was late September of 2007, and I had three sons. Also, our daughter-in-law was pregnant with their second son. Life goes on. And on and on, in our family.

So it's my favorite time of year again...football season, (and I am a Gator fan, but just don't have the patience to sit still to watch a game, so while hubby watches...and watches...and watches...I....shop)! I love the fall festivals, the fall weather, the fall decorations, the entire mood and ambiance of fall. I began to prepare for our annual family Halloween party.

Another task we undertook was house hunting. We quickly began to feel the pinch of 5 of us in the house, especially since we knew we'd want to adopt again later...so we began the quest for our next (and hopefully final) family home.

Now, one thing I've neglected to blog about so far is that starting in December of 2006, I began to get sick. Not sick like in cancer...just sick. Head cold, sinus infection, resperitory infection, flu, you name it. I got sick in December of 2006, and from then until now, I would get sick for two weeks, go to the doctor (sometimes), get a prescription for an antibiotic, a nasal spray and a cough medicine, take it all, feel somewhat better for a week or 10 days, and then would get sick again. This went on...and on....and on....for all of 2007, and even into 2008. Luckily, for both Austin's birth back in February of 2007, and for Andrew's birth in August just 6 months later, I was well. For those particular weeks and for several weeks following their births, the Lord blessed me with good health, and thankfully none of my kids ever caught anything from me. But my major memories of 2007 are of feeling very, very sick for weeks and weeks and weeks.

However, in the first week of October 2007, I was eagerly preparing for our Halloween party, along with working, caring for my three sons, and house hunting. Then, the bottom fell out. I got sick, again (after all, I had felt well for three whole weeks in row..can't let Momma get spoiled now, can we)? And this time, when I got sick...it was bad. But, I figured it would run itself out like it had been doing for almost a year now...I'd feel like hell for two weeks, and then feel OK by the end of the month.

WRONG! I just got sicker and sicker and sicker. And it killed me to do it, but I had to cancel our annual family Halloween party. What made me even sicker about it was that our son and daughter-in-law and grandson from Mississippi, Matthew and Emily and Colton, we going to be in town that same weekend as our party. Plus, one of Pete's nieces was going to be there with her family. It was going to be the biggest, best party yet! Oh....the plans I made...new recipes to try out...new decorations....new games...I so wanted this party to happen! I tried so hard to get well again. But it just did not happen. And I really feared getting Emily sick, especially with her being 7 months pregnant. So the party got called off, practically at the last minute. We did manage to make it to our church's Fall Festival, known as Trunk n Treat, as well as to a pumpkin carving party at the home of some friends, so Halloween of 2007 was not without it's festivities. But to cancel our annual Halloween party just goes to show you how truly sick I was. It was scary.

But there is a hilarious Halloween story to share for 2007. It was before I got sick and had to cancel the party. We were dragging all of the Halloween decorations down from the attic. One of my motion-sensor decorations (a tombstone that opens with a ghost popping out) fell and hit the floor. Alex was right in the middle of it all, of course. I picked it up and saw that it was cracked and hoped I had not broken it completely. I took it to Pete (with Alex tagging along right behind me, of course) and Pete looked it over. He said: "Oh, it's only cracked. It's just a crack right here. I'll get some SuperGlue and I can fix it." Alex took all this in, word for word, naturally.

OK, so fast forward to later that night. Pete's on the porch watching the Gator game. Both babies are in bed. Alex is on my bed watching Shrek, and I'm in the shower. It's late. Phone rings. Knowing Pete was on the porch could not hear it ringing, and wondering who would call so late (well, not super late: around 10:15 PM) I jumped out of the shower, grabbed a towel to wrap around me and dashed to answer the extension on my bedside table. It was Adrian. I explain I'm dripping wet and can I call her tomorrow. Hang up. Go back around the bed and I'm moving around Alex who came to the phone to also say hello to Adrian. My towel doesn't completely cover me: my rear end, to be exact. Alex points at my rear and says: "Mommy, what's that?" I tell him it's my behind, my fanny, my tushie. Something like that. He says, "Mommy, what's that?" and kind of pats his hand at the top of my, well, forgive me here, but I have to tell you so you'll understand the story, at the top of my butt crack. (Now let me explain here that while butts and butt cracks are not our usual family topic of conversation, I don't want to lie to my kids ever, or give them made up words that they will embarrass themselves with later, or any other kind of misguided information about ANYTHING. So when they ask me what a certain body part is, or what anything is, for that matter, I try to always be accurate and precise and to the best of my ability, clinical and G-rated.) So a rear end can be called many things: butt, hiney, fanny, tushie, behind, etc., etc., etc. I was trying to think of a clinical, G-rated way of saying butt crack and I just could not come up with anything. So before he patted me again, and this got even weirder, I said, "well, Alex, that's my butt crack. Everyone has one: you have one, Austin has one, Andrew has one." Well, leave it to Alex. His reply? (Flash back now to the paragraph above). "Mommy, you butt is cracked? Daddy get SuperGlue. He can fix it!"

Kid just listens too damn well if you ask me.

So the Halloween party itself got canceled...but apparently a party of another sort took it's place. The weekend of the planned party, Matthew, Emily and Colton were in town and stayed at our house. Then, because they were at our house, everyone else in the family showed up to visit them: Samantha and her kids, Jessica, Adrian, Ashley and Jared, and even Gloria, Darrell and Sandy. But because I was so sick and didn't want to get anyone else sick, I didn't get to be a part of the fun and festivities, so I was relegated to my bedroom. Bless Adrian's heart. She felt so sorry for me and came back to spend time with me, saying, "I don't care if I do get sick...I'm not going to let Jamaica stay back there all by herself while everyone else is out here in her house having fun!" So at least I had some company, in between bouts of hacking up a lung.

I managed to rally just enough to take the boys trick or treating around the neighborhood the night of Halloween. Or at least that's what Pete tells me. I really don't have much recollection of it...either I was sicker than I let on, or else my sinus, nausea and cough medicine did a number of me reminiscent of my Vodka Collins' days. Alex was a Junior Bob the Builder, and Austin and Andrew were baby pumpkins. That much is true, because there are picture to prove it.

Being sick was really beginning to suck.

Angelia's Birthday

2009-03-24T06:37:00.000-07:00

Friday, March 20, was Angelia's birthday. It was a very rough day, so I have not posted this until now. Happy Birthday, Sassy! We love you and miss you always!

In the rising of the sun and in its going down,
we remember.

In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter,
we remember.

In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring,
we remember.

In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer,
we remember.

In the rustling of leaves and in the beauty of autumn,
we remember.

In the beginning of the year and when it ends,
we remember.

When we are weary and in need of strength,
we remember.

When we are lost and sick at heart,
we remember.

When we have joys we yearn to share,
we remember.

So long as we live, she too shall live,
for she is now a part of us,
and we will always remember.

by Roland B. Gittelsohn

Patience!

2009-03-18T09:39:00.000-07:00

I will return to blogging soon. For those who don't know it, I work in a tax office. And April 15 is just weeks away. Between that, and another personal project I'm working on, and, oh yeah, having three kids, I'm having to take a break from my blog for a little while.

But I will leave you with some news: I'm going to be a grandma again!

Life with 3 boys!

2009-03-05T10:32:00.001-08:00

So we settle into life as "My Three Sons". For someone who used to imagine that I'd only have one child, and a girl at that, how I ended up with 3 boys under 3...I'll never know. BUT: I'll forever be eternally, completely grateful. I just couldn't have imagined the fun three little boys can create! Noise, dirt, crying, screaming, clutter...all that and more would now rule my home and my life!

Andrew was 8 days old when he had the first party thrown in his honor. All the usual suspects showed up and a great time was had by all.

Now, with not just one, but TWO little brothers to show off for, Alex really began letting his personality shine through. One night while Uncle Albert and Aunt Nell were visiting, Uncle Albert kept trying to tell a joke. And apparently Alex understood that it was a joke his Grandpa was telling, because he kept slapping the table with his hands and laughing, out loud, ridiculously, obnoxiously laughing, at each pause for breath that Uncle Albert took while telling the joke! It was funnier than the joke was! But the best part of all was that when Alex did that each time, and we'd tell him, "Wait, Alex, let Pawpaw finish the joke" and Alex would interrupt with laughter again, and FINALLY Uncle Albert got to the punch line......Alex didn't get it! No a peep out of Alex....stone cold silence!

You just can't script this stuff with kids, can you?

Some other Alex-isms:

Singing "happy birthday, Luck-luck" (his cat) anytime he's at a birthday party for a friend or family member, and for his bedtime song each night after a story and prayers.

Telling his Sunday school teacher that "Crazy Train" by Ozzy Osbourne is his favorite song. His SUNDAY SCHOOL teacher...a song by Ozzy Osbourne....oh, yeah! We look good at the church now!

Alex imitating us, when we do Austin's "exercises" (just our way of distracting Austin and Andrew while changing a poopy diaper, cleaning a snotty nose, giving medicine, etc.). Alex grabs Austin's hands, and then his feet, thrashing them about saying, "1, 2, 3 4, pull...that's a boy, you're getting SO BIG!"

Alex telling us that the reason he can't go to sleep at night is that there are red alligators in his room that talk to him all night, keeping him awake. He says they live under his bed. Red alligators...I have no clue where that came from.

Alex thoroughly enjoying watching Mommy crawl out of her skin by telling her that "Alex like snakes and worms, Mommy!"

Alex gave the name "Lulu" to his toy cowboy and his toy fire truck driver. Not the most butch of names for such he-man occupations, wouldn't you agree?

Alex caught on to Mommy's little white lies when I told him we were out of Mommy's Fat-Free Weight Watchers devils food cookies. Alex insists, while standing on tippy toes, looking into the kitchen pantry: "Alex SEE no more black cookies, Mommy! Let Alex SEE!"

Alex insists on talking to his brother while we're trying to put baby Andrew to sleep. We asked him, "Alex, what is it you want to say to Andrew?" Alex replies: "I fart!"

And continuing with Alex's gas-passing-themed quips: While bathing Alex one night, he passed some gas while sitting in the tub, and delightfully (and loudly) exclaimed, "Mommy I made bubbles....with my fart!"

Or how 'bout this classic: "Mommy, my fart smells like.....macaroni!"

Upon hearing Austin crying after putting him to bed, Alex says: “Mom, sumpin’s bugging him. He no want to go nite-nite.”

While playing with my hair, Alex says: “Mommy, you need a hair cut. If you a good girl, and you no cry, you get a lawdy-pop!”

Then there was the day he painted himself, almost covering his entire body, with chocolate pudding, so he'd be black like his little brother. And when he decided it would be a fun afternoon activity to make mud pies on Austin's head (Austin loved it, too, by the way). And the evening he decided to help Austin comb his hair by putting a battery-operated drink mixer in Austin's hair, and TURNED IT ON HIGH, getting the mixer caught and stuck. Yeah, that was some fun, getting that out of Austin's hair. Austin was rockin' a mo-hawk back then. His hair started out silky smooth and satin-y straight, but when his curls began to grow in, they only grew on the top, middle of his head for his first year...the Maddox Jolie Pitt look, ya know what I mean. Apparently Alex thought his hair wasn't just quite curly enough!

Or how about the morning we spray painted wicker chair. We were all out in the garage, where I had the door open to air out the paint fumes while the boys played in the yard. Alex was comforting Austin, whose diaper was half off, hugging him, saying “it’s OK, it’s all right.” I ask what’s wrong, Alex says: “Hop-A-Long sad. Him upset.” I ask why. Alex says: “His butt’s hanging out." To which I reply: "Well, Mommy better go fix his diaper. I'll be right back." And I bend down to pick up Austin, only to have Alex stop me, saying, "It’s OK, I make it better, I make him happy.” I asked Alex how. Alex said, “I’ll spray paint his butt!”

And on another painting day, after the painting was finished up, I went in the house to wash my face and hands, leaving the boys outside with Pete. The next thing I knew, Alex was at my side, almost crying, very anxious and upset, talking too fast, trying to tell me something. It came out, "mommy, hurry, quick, daddy said, run, Austin....fingers.....blood!” Over and over again. I got soap in my eyes and all I heard was "Austin" and "blood", so fearing the worst, I ran back out to the garage with Alex at my heels. Pete was very calmly standing there with paint thinner (which smelled like gasoline) and was dabbing lightly at Austin's hand. My thought was to scream, panic and kill my husband, as in my blinded and confused state, I thought he WAS pouring gasoline onto a cut on Austin's hand, which looked to me to be bleeding heavily. Turned out: Alex was not such a good message relayer, and I really was blind as a bat. Because Austin had simply put his hand on the newly-painted-red chair, and to Alex, it looked like blood, and to me, the paint thinner smelled like gasoline. Easy to guess who the drama queen (and king) is in our house, huh?

So yes, life with three boys under age three was proving to be....let's just say....highly spirited. Drama, tears, laughter, joy...I never knew how much fun my three guys could be.

Introducting.....Andrew

2009-03-01T18:04:00.000-08:00

So our third son was due to arrive. We had spent the summer exchanging phone calls and emails and letters with his birth family, and even managed another visit with them, this time with Alex and Austin along for the fun. What a fun time that was. I think Alex developed a crush on Andrew's birth mother, and she just adored both of them. Alex was really puzzed by how his baby brother Andrew managed to get inside her tummy....he didn't understand why he couldn't actually see baby Andrew and one time just reached up and pulled down the zipper on her zippered jacket, as if baby Andrew would just now pop out from inside her jacket.

Baby Andrew's birth mother had placenta previa and was scheduled for a C-section. He would be arriving about 3 weeks early. So we made our plans to be there for his arrival, and took Aunt Chris along to help us out with the other two boys while we would be at the hospital.

So the big day arrived. The C-section was scheduled for 12 noon, so we got to the hospital around 9:00 AM that morning, to spend time with the family beforehand. His birth mother wanted me in the OR with her, but hospital rules allowed only 1 family member in with the patient, and she really wanted her mom with her, which was completely understandable. They came and got her around 12:30, and after hugs and kisses and tears, I left her with her mom and the hospital staff, and went to find Pete and Alex for the long wait.

Turned out: not too long of a wait. Andrew was born at 1:00 PM. And by 1:30, I met my third son for the first time. Gorgeous, beautiful, precious...words never can describe the beauty of a new life. And quiet. Not like Alex had been at all...screaming from the moment he could draw a breath. I spent about half an hour with Andrew and his birth mother, and then had to leave the room so they could transfer baby and birth mother to a regular hospital room from the OR recovery room.

I left the room and went looking for Pete and Alex again, who had gone looking for Aunt Chris and Austin. I saw them before they saw me, and I was struck by the look of excitement and anticipation on Alex's face when I heard his daddy say to him, "Let's go see your new brother!" That moment...that look on Alex's face was as precious to me as anything else in Andrew's birth story. As soon as everyone got settled in the hospital room, we took Alex in to see baby Andrew. He kept saying, "Alex see him!" "Where And-woo?" "Go get him!" Alex was running, full steam ahead, racing down the hall, and absolutely yelling, "time to see And-woo!" "Go now!" "See him!" He was so excited, he was squirming. We were afraid to have him walk in the room, afraid he would run and trip over something. So Pete carried him in, he said hi to our birth mother and then looked into the bassinet where Andrew lay sleeping and said, "Hi, And-woo, time to rise and shine!" "Wake up!" Pete and I cried. It was the sweetest voice, his little hand waving to his new baby brother, looking at him so closely. Then began the questions: "What dat?" (The cap on his head). "What on his eyes?" (The drops they put in newborns). "What he doin'?" "Where his toes?" "Him tiny." When Andrew began to cry a little, Alex asked, with a worried look on his face: "And-woo have bad dreams?"

When Andrew settled back down to sleep, we settled in with our birth mother. She asked Alex what he's going to teach little Andrew and Alex told her, "play toys. Play big rigs, play front end loader." Everyone laughed, Pete and I still cried. We visited for a while and then Alex began to get rowdy. So Pete took Alex back to the hotel, but he had to say bye-bye to his new baby brother. So we held him up so he could see him again, and he said (with some prompting from us, of course): "Hi, And-woo, my Alex (meaning: I'm Alex): my you big brudder. I love l00000, I take care of you". (More tears here from Jamaica and Pete). Then, all on his own, he says: "Night, night, buddy. Have good dreams 'bout dirt!" OK, now the floodgates are open and the tears are really pouring. I just can't believe how precious this all is. He picked up the "buddy" from us, which is what we say when putting any of them to bed: "night, night buddy." The sweet dreams about dirt part comes from one of Alex's favorite videos, Dirt Monsters, where at the end of the video the trucks are all going home for the night, it says, "good night, Dirt Monsters, have good dreams about dirt!" Alex says this every night to Austin, too.

Our time out of town for Andrew's birth was not without it's funny moments, too. One morning I was showering and Alex came in the bathroom. He jerked open the shower curtain and startled me. He looked at me and said, "Mommy, what you doin'?" "I'm taking a shower, Alex." Then: "Mommy, that's you body." Me: "Yes, this is my body." Alex: "Mommy have boo-boo, went to doctor." (I had a band-aid on my shoulder where the dermatologist took a small skin biopsy from a funny looking freckle: no cancer). Me: "Yes, I went to doctor, but Mommy is all better now." Now for the Kodak moment: Alex: "Mommy, where's you penis?" Me: laugh so hard water gets in my mouth and I choke. "What?" Alex: "Where's you penis, Mommy? Where is it, Mommy?" Me: "uh, uh, uh, I don't have one. Alex: "how come, mommy?" Me: "Go ask your daddy". Alex continues to stare for a few seconds, and sees the water running down over me, over and off of my legs while I'm showering and then asks: "Mommy, why you peeing in shower?" (Maybe next time I need to remember to lock the bathroom door!)

Overall, it was a wonderful weekend. We got to meet a lot of our birth mother's family and friends and get to know them all. Everyone adores Alex and Austin. Another funny moment was when one of the birth father's buddies came in to visit and our birth mother had Austin on her lap. This guy thought Austin was the baby our birth mother had just given birth to, and he absolutely freaked out at how big he was (Austin weighed 19 pounds at the time). He kept commenting on how big he was and how much hair he has (Austin had a mini-mokawk hairstyle at the time) and that he already had teeth. That's when we figured out his mistake. Babies aren't born with teeth! He was just assuming since Austin's black and the new baby is mixed, that Austin was Andrew!

The whole weekend at the hospital, Alex could not be in the room with Andrew without wanting to hold him. Constantly: "Alex hold And-woo on lap!" "Me feed him!" "Fingers 'way!" (when we would help Alex hold him). He kept wanting to check on his toes and finally, after his 5th or 6th time looking at his toes, I asked him, "Alex, do you have an obsession with toes?" Alex looked up at me, smiled sweetly and said simply: "I like feet!"

Pete did something very sneaky, but also very sweet that weekend. We hated that thought of our birth mother leaving the hospital empty handed, so we had planned ahead and brought flowers and food (my mom's homemade sour dough bread) for everyone to share. And we had given gift cards to the birth parents for them to shop with (a music store gift card for the birth father, and a clothing store gift card for the birth mother). But sneaky Pete went to the mall during one of our trips from the hospital back to our hotel, and went to a jewelry store and got a beautiful diamond angel pendent necklace for Andrew to "give" his birth mother...so she'll always know what an true angel she is to all of us. Everyone in that room cried...me, Pete, birth mother, grandmother, Aunt Chris, our attorney...we were all just weeping, wet messes by now, but they were also tears of happiness, because this wasn't an ending, just a new beginning.

I look back on that long Labor Day weekend of 2007, and even apart from the miracle and blessing that Andrew's birth was, just the whole time spent with his birth family was a miracle by itself. We truly love that whole family...his birth mother is like the little sister I never had, and her mom is a true friend, and her stepdad is one of the greatest people you could want to meet. It felt like a family reunion, in more ways than one. Having Andrew alone is one great blessing, but our family grew by more than just one person that weekend....we are ALL now, one great big happy family!

Meeting the (birth) Parents!

2009-02-27T07:54:00.000-08:00

Before Andrew's birth, we were lucky enough to meet, get to know, and spend some quality time with his birth parents. On the day of our first meeting, at 4PM in a city 2 hours away, my car began acting a little funny, but nothing that I thought a full tank of premium gas wouldn't cure. We wanted to leave the van with the car seats for my parents, who were going to watch Alex and Austin that afternoon and evening, so we could have quiet, peaceful time with the parents without the distractions created by a two year old and a 5 month old.

So, off we go on the interstate. As we are gathering our speed on the interstate, the car starting acting very sluggish. We had left on time, but I'm afraid we'll be late if we turn around, go back home and switch out car sears and vehicles. Pete swears that the car will be fine. I actually prayed, out loud, 'Dear Lord, please get us to there to meet these parents on time. I don’t want to be late, I don’t want to break down, I don’t want to make a bad first impression.”

We make it to the restaurant and meet the birth parents, and it was a wonderful first meeting. We loved them and they loved us and it was the very beginning of what has become a relationship that we now consider extended family. Andrew's birth mother is like the little sister I never had, and her mother is one of the coolest women you'd ever want to meet. From the moment we all met, something just clicked and we knew our families all coming together in this way was going to be very special for everyone involved. I just cannot say enough about how well we all got along, and how much we all adored each from the very start...truly lucky, indeed, especially for little Andrew.

However, upon leaving, we turn from the restaurant parking lot onto the lane for the interstate. We get no more than the next exit up, and the car is dying. We stop at the first gas station, add oil, add water, do everything Pete knows how to do and can do without tools there, and the car is dying. It’s now 7PM, and places are closing.

We make it down to some auto service place down the road, barely able to chug our way in, and they tell us that they are closing, and it looks like they’ll have to order parts, which won’t arrive until morning. What to do? We have to get home! I have to work the next day! We have to get back to the boys! It’s a two-hour drive home! And a tow-truck home would be a killer!

There is no fixing the car that night. It’s deader than a doornail. We leave it parked at the auto repair shop and, after a lot of anxious decision making, land on the plan the only thing to do is have me rent a car and drive home while Pete spends the night. We assume it'll be only a few hours the next day for fix the car, and then he can drive right back home. Luckily, we’re close to a Holiday Inn. We walk over and check Pete in for the night. Then, we start calling around for a rental car, thinking that with a credit card, we can rent a cheap-o over the phone, have it delivered to us at the Holiday Inn, where I’ll get in and drive home. Don't I see commercials on TV like that all the time? Don't I? I swear I do. But in reality? No such luck. All the car rental places in town are closed, because it’s now almost 8:00 PM. The ONLY one that is open is the one at the airport, and they don’t deliver cars.

Next step: call a taxi and have it take me to the airport. That wait was forever. Finally, I get in the taxi, but the driver is Buddhist, and it now being 9PM, he has to do his evening prayers. So I sit in the taxi, while he finds a point due East, and prays. (I’m praying now, too, by the way....praying I will ever make it home to see my children again).

I finally make it to the airport (where the heck is it...this is the longest taxi ride EVER), and rent a car. Paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork. Get the keys, and since I’ve never been at this particular airport before, and I don’t know my way around this city very well, I decide to ask the rental clerk how to get to I-75. He tells me he doesn’t think I-75 is in in this city. Um, what? I mean, he’s a car rental agent, working at the airport, and he doesn’t know if I-75 even runs throught this city...hello? We argue over this for a few minutes until I give up. Whatever...this guy looks smart in this car rental agency suit and tie and jacket, but looks are apparently very deceiving. I grab a map, find my rental car and make my slow way home at the end of what is now a very long, stressful night. The final twist of lime to this story was the massively long, slimy snake that crossed the road in front of me on the interstate just as I was coming into Gainesville. And for those of you who don't know this already, I really, really hate snakes. But that's a post for another time.

I arrive home at about 1:00 in the morning. My mom is still there, but both boys are in bed asleep. I manage to get about 4 hours sleep that night before morning arrives and I have to get the boys up and get me ready for work. Mom comes to watch the boys while I go to work. I keep expecting a call from Pete that he's home, but the call never comes. The car did not get repaired the next day, and had to be towed to the Buick dealership for an exclusive Buick part, so Pete had to repeat my routine from the night before: take a taxi to the airport, rent a car, and drive home. He did, and kept the rental car overnight here at home and went back the following day, where he dropped the rental car off at the airport, and then had to take a taxi to the auto repair shop to pick up the Buick, where it ended up being the catalytic converter on the car which had blown up.

So, to summarize, here is what our little journey ended up costing us:

Dinner with the birth parents and our attorney 150.00
hotel for Pete 134.00
taxi to airport - Jamaica 56.00
rental car home first night- Jamaica 90.00
Pete - dinner at hotel 29.00
Car repairs - first auto shop 304.00
tow truck - Buick to dealership 172.00
Taxi to airport for Pete to pick up rental car - 65.00
car rental to drive home - Pete 44.00
Taxi from airport to Buick dealership after dropping off rental car 45.00
car repairs - Buick dealership 1095.00
TOTAL $ 2,184.00

It's like Gilligan's Island...they started out for a "three hour tour" and ended up stranded for years.
We started out thinking it'd be just one evening and maybe a couple hundred bucks, tops. Three days and two grand later, well, I'll just say this: when you adopt, you want to watch every penny. Adoptions can be expensive, and we're not rich. At least, monetarily. Our riches come from other sources: apparently, the unexpected, comical, embarrassing, and frustrating (i.e., character-building) moments that life throws our way. What's a family to do?

Summer 2007

2009-02-22T14:15:00.000-08:00

We returned from our Sea World adventure happy, relaxed and proud of ourselves for tackling that adventure without any real mishaps. At least, no criminal, legal, financial, medical or majorly life altering mishaps. Dirt, dishevelment, embarrassment, tears, frustration...well, all that just goes with the territory, right? So summer begins.

We celebrated Father's Day with a trip to St. Augustine, Florida (one of our favorite cities), where we visited the fort, shopped and rode the river boat on the Matanzas River.

On July 3, 2007, Austin's adoption was final and we celebrated with a party/BBQ at the house. We invited our usual group of friends and family to join us, and as usual, it was a lively bunch. July 4th that year fell on a Wednesday, which I hate because I only the THE DAY of the 4th of July off from work, and without it falling on a Friday or a Monday, I never get a long weekend out of it. So we didn't do anything on the 4th of July itself, just used it as a bonus day in the middle of the week for Momma to log some heavy nap time.

Alex developed an odd obsession that summer. It began at the vet's office. One by one over the summer, we took all our cats to the vet for their yearly check-ups. Usually, Pete and Alex would drop off the cat early in the morning and leave me home with Austin, and then when the cat is ready, they go pick him up that afternoon. Now, you must know that taking Alex (and Austin, too, for that matter) to the vet's office is an absolute requirement, because all the technicians and office staff absolutely adore these boys. They always have a treat ready for Alex, talk to him, show him around, and generally just ham it up with him. And he's a very good sport about it. Anyways, our vet's office always has an animal up for adoption that they promote, usually an animal that was picked by ASPCA. The poor creature has usually been neglected or abused or abandoned. The animal has been nursed back to health by our vet's office and they keep it in a nice, roomy, comfy pet cage out front in the reception area with the adoption information. Over the summer, they had a cat looking for a home, named Isabelle. Isabelle was a soft, pretty, full grown, short-haired white kitty with black and orange spots. Poor Isabelle had been abused and had only one eye. She did well with her one little eye. The other eye had been taken out and the eye socket was sewn shut. This created unending curiosity for Alex: "Daddy, what wong (wrong) with cat eye?" "Where cat eye go?" "Daddy, fix cat eye!" "Hello, kitty cat, you see Alex?" Very curious and worried about poor kitty's eye. All this is great, I'm so glad Alex is caring and compassionate. But little Alex took it to another level. Over the 6-week Summer Time Fun program he attended at church, they did a lot of coloring and craft projects. At the end of the program, they sent home all of Alex's projects, a lot of which were animal and pet-themed pictures and crafts. And guess what? In each and every animal project of Alex's, every animal had only one eye! So we have a clay lion: only one eye. A color picture of a dog: only one eye. A felt project with a giraffe: only one eye. Even the "Jesus Loves Me" self portrait he did: Alex gave himself only one eye! Poor Alex, I'm just glad he hasn't gone after any of our cats to pull out their eyes!

Having a two year old in the house was proving to be a lot of fun, if you can find fun in dirt, mischief, misunderstandings, disobedience and the like. A sample: A Wednesday night, 8PM, after a long day at work, I was unloading a ton of groceries. Austin's crying, Alex is getting into all the grocery bags, dumping stuff out, knocking things over, generally just making a mess, trying to avoid us putting him to bed. I'm distracted trying to put everything away. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alex getting into the cabinet where we keep the food processor and juicer. I ask him to stop. He doesn't. I ask him again. He still doesn't. I'm moving back and forth from counter to fridge to pantry, tripping over things, trying to hurry. Alex is digging deeper and deeper into the cabinet and I finally say, "Alex, does Mommy have to start counting? One....two..." I get distracted again by Austin and sort of forget to keep my eye on Alex to see what he's doing, so my counting stopped at two. Alex hesitantly comes over to me, sort of tip-toeing, and yanks on my pants and says, trying to be oh-so-helpful, "Free, mommy, free. One, two, free!" Big smile. Me: "Oh, yeah, that's right! Three!" Thanks, Alex, mommy forgot how to count there for a minute!

Next scene: a Sunday morning, after church, Perkins Restaurant: Pete, Jamaica, Alex, Austin, Aunt Chris all seated and waiting for our brunch. It's busy and we forgot to bring Alex a toy to keep him occupied. So he's into everything, grabbing napkins, glasses of water, silverware, and we're pulling things out of his way. Then he starts in on the salt, pepper, catsup and mustard containers, trying to pull the lids off. He's growling and really tugging on things. I ask him what's he doing. He says: "try to get lid off, want to see inside". When he's finally gone through everything on our table, and our table is completely bare and there's nothing left to grab, he bunches up his fists, and puts them under his chin, and starts grunting and pushing and pulling on his head. This goes on for a few minutes and although he's not hurting anything or making a mess, he's making an awful grunting noise and I finally ask him, "what on earth are you doing?" This sweet child looks at me with a very frustrated look on this face and says, "try to get my head off, want to see inside"!

Then, the last weekend before Andrew is born: Saturday night, 6PM, I was cleaning and polishing the house like a crazy woman all weekend. I wanted to bring our new baby home to a clean house. The kitchen floor was cleaned, mopped and waxed. It was time to feed the big boy. Alex wa in his high chair. I fixed him a plate of veggies and cheese and fruit. The fruit is a mix of berries, very ripe. Probably over-ripe. Blackberries and raspberries. But it was the last of them and I wanted to use them up. He nibbled on his dinner and was being very good. Pete and I are exhausted. We sat in the family room for just a few minutes to catch our breath and have some peace and quiet. It's too quiet. We lean back on the couch, assuming Alex is cleaning his plate. Well, he was. Just not how we had hoped he was. He has taken every piece of the berries, and thrown them on the floor, hard. And because the berries were over-ripe, they absolutely exploded when they hit the floor. It looked like blood. It looked like a crime scene with all that berry juice, everywhere. Some splashed on poor Crazy Luck-luck, who made the mistake of walking through the kitchen while Alex was having dinner. Crazy Luck-luck now had red berry juice on him and lookedlike he was the loser in a big cat fight. There was berry juice literally from the high chair to the kitchen door going outside. Everywhere. On my nice, clean floors. My fault, really, for cleaning before feeding him, and for feeding him berries, and most especially for leaving him alone for two minutes to feed himself. My fault entirely. I'm more mad at myself than mad at him. However, the fun has just begun.After scolding him about throwing food on the floor, I took him out of the high chair. I told him to go into the family room and let us clean up the mess. Well, Alex wanted to help clean it up. "Alex help". I told him this is really a mommy and daddy job. He says, "Alex get broom". I told him that this is really not a broom job, it's more of a mop job, so he needed to get out of the kitchen so we can clean up. He can tell we're upset and aggravated, mostly at ourselves, and he really wantedto help and make it all up to us, so he kept insisting on helping. We had a long talk with him about throwing food, explaining to him that when he makes messes that mommy and daddy have to clean up, that takes time away from doing fun things, like playing outside or reading a book. So we asked him to please wait for us in the family room, so he doesn't walk through the mess and make it any bigger. Alex went into the family room, watching us and chattering away. He kept coming back into the kitchen, stirring up the mess. I finally picked him up and really have a long talk with him and he can tell I'm upset. I go back to my hands and knees on the floor, mopping up the mess, with Pete's help. Alex is right in the doorway, watching. He bends over and leans against the chair. It is, just for a moment, completely quiet in the house as Pete and I were mopping up the floor. Austin is in his swing in the kitchen, watching and listening to everything that is going on. Alex says "Mommy, mommy", I turn around to look at him and he passes a big, loud gust of gas. Then it's "Mommy? Mommy? I farted. I farted, Mommy! Guess what? I farted!" It was timed so perfectly, and said so innocently, and it all just happened so funny, I burtst out laughing. Pete laughed so hard he cried. Literally, tears came out of his eyes. I began shaking with laughter. Pete tells me to quit shaking, because Alex will know I'm laughing and think it was funny and think he's off the hook for the food throwing. Well, it was funny, but I tell Pete to quit crying with laughter for the same reason. Alex knows something is going on with his parents, but he can't quite figure it out. He starts in with: "Daddy, mommy, what you doing?" "Mommy, daddy, what you say?" Pete and I laughed for a solid five minutes before we could get ourselves under control. Priceless.

A Thursday morning, 6:30 AM: a long, sleepless night with Andrew and Alex (Austin slept the whole night though). Got up and went into kitchen. Alex is there. He had gotten ahold of a box that had arrived the day before with a shipment for me. It was a huge box, filled with styrofoam packing peanuts. I do not know why they sent one small picture frame in a box big enough for a microwave oven, but they did. And filled it with packing peanuts. We should have gotten rid of the box immediately. But we got lazy the night before, and never gave a thought to Alex getting up at the crack of dawn to find it and play with it. But, he did. He emptied the entire box all over the kitchen and was making "big piles" for his trucks to drive through. So not only were the peanuts everywhere, but they have been ground down into an even finer, tiny, frothy, foamy mess by Alex driving over them with his trucks. Also, he had taken the huge empty box, and trapped two of the cats, Trouble and Crazy Luck-luck, inside and was pounding on the box with their food bowl, terrorizing the poor animals. So this is what I walked in on at 6:30 that Thursday morning. I look around, taking it all in, taking a deep, slow, cleansing breath and counted to 10 before I spoke. Alex sees me and says, "Hi, Mommy, what you doing? You waking up?" I begin: "Alex, what is going on here?" He replies: "Look, Mommy, big piles! Look, Mommy, Luck-luck and Bubbie in here!" He raises the box just a little bit so I can see the poor cats, who probably now have permanent hearing loss. Luck-luck needed only a split second, so he took off like a bat out of hell. Trouble, the older, heavier cat, couldn't run as quickly. He sort of trotted off, and Alex started running behind him, trying to drag him back to his box of torture. Trouble got as far as the kitchen/family room doorway and stopped, dead in his tracks, sensing Alex right on his tail, literally. So Trouble stopped, Alex did the same. Trouble remained standing, tail held high in the air. Alex dropped to his knees, face close to Trouble's behind. I stood, paralyzed, watching the whole thing. Alex leaned down and forward, stuck his nose against Trouble's behind, took a big whiff, wrinkled up his nose, looked at me and said, "Mommy, smells like poop!" After I picked myself up off the floor, laughing, I cleaned up the kitchen and went to work. Kid's lucky he's so cute and funny.

Well, we were preparing for the arrival of our newest baby. So life was feeling frantic and anxious at times. Good thing he had our two older boys around to break up the tension, huh. They sure do keep up laughing at times, and it was a good thing, because our first visit with Andrew's birth parents was right around the corner.

A Sea World Adventure 2007

2009-02-19T18:43:00.001-08:00

Our big fun was over Memorial Day weekend when we spent three nights in Orlando to go to SeaWorld! What a blast we had! We almost decided at the last minute to not go, though, because Alex was cranky and Austin was crying non-stop with a tummy ache. We actually had the reservation agent on the phone Thursday evening and were about to cancel and get a refund, but we decided to say a prayer and hope for the best, and forged ahead.

God must have a funny way of testing our resolve, however, because He really gave us one for the road. It was Friday, about 12 noon. We wanted to get on the road between 12 noon and 1PM, hoping to do most of the driving while the boys napped in the van. Pete was ready, the boys were ready, the van was completely packed, Mom had come to say good-bye to the boys, and my dad was there to say good-bye also. Pete was busy putting the final diaper bag and cooler in the van while I jumped in the shower. And it was while all this was going on, me in the shower with the water going from hot to cold, water pressure dropping down to nothing, that our hot water heater decided to spring a massive leak, and flood the laundry room, the garage and the kitchen! Luckily my dad was there to keep the boys occupied while Pete turned everything off and mopped of the watery mess! When I got out of the shower and found out what had happened, it made me very nervous to leave. But we would have had to spend the weekend in a hotel anyway, waiting on a new hot water heater to be installed, so we decided to just be brave, look upon this as an opportunity to really prove our parental mojo, and just march ahead with our vacation plans and didn't let anything get us down.

So that we did. Off to SeaWorld!Our first night was rather rough; Austin still had an upset stomach and cried and spit up a lot. Alex never did take a nap, so he was a wild child. When we got to the hotel, he went crazy over the waterfall in the lobby and wanted to jump in and get the pennies out that people had thrown in for good luck ("look, mommy, money"!). When we went upstairs to our room and took our luggage up on the trolley, Alex rode on the trolley, on top of the luggage. He had a blast, but after unloading the luggage, he wanted to keep riding it up and down the hallway. So Pete raced him on the trolley up and down the hall for a while, but we eventually had to take it back downstairs so other people could use it, and Alex threw a fit over that. So then for a while it was up and down on the elevator. And then running down the halls, tapping on the doors and asking, "Daddy? Who's in there?"

He acted up at dinner at Denny's restaurant, driving his dump truck all over his dinner plate, making a building out of pizza slices, making ambulances and fire trucks out of wadded-up napkins, telling a story about helping people get out of the "building fall down...big boom.... people get out...no one hurt....no doctor....no shots" and throwing french fries everywhere. He did not want to leave the restaurant, so he wouldn't walk, and would just go limp and floppy when I tried to pick him up. So I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth and asked him if he wanted me to drag him out of the restaurant, he looked up at me, smiled sweetly, and said, "yes, mommy, peeeze?" We ended up getting Austin in his car seat, and then both of us, Pete grabbing his arms and me grabbing his legs, to carry Alex to the van, with Alex giggling and laughing the whole time, and saying "See Shamu! Go SeaWorld!" (He says SeaWorld like Sea-wo-wuld).

By 10:00 that night, we were all near tears. Alex screamed at taking a bath, was exhausted and kept saying, "Alex tired....go home." We could not get him to understand that this was home, for the next few nights. It ended up being 11:30 that night before he fell asleep, after watching Thomas the Tank Engine on DVD 3 times. He slept very well, for it being his first time ever sleeping away from home, and not being in his crib. Austin fell asleep around 10:30, and slept straight through until 5AM. Pretty good, too, for a three month old, but I think it was more pure exhaustion. Up with Austin at 5AM to give him a bottle, and Alex, afraid of missing out on any fun, woke up too.

So it's 5:00 AM, and the whole family is wide awake. Alex grabbed some juice and crackers, turns on the TV, opens the curtains, it's still pitch black outside. The day begins. At 7AM, Austin fell back asleep. Pete took Alex downstairs to have breakfast, while I took a shower. Pete and Alex came back, Alex woke Austin, Pete is trying to get Austin back to sleep, and Alex takes this chance to come into the bathroom, get Pete's shaving cream can, and sprayed shaving cream everywhere. EVERYWHERE. E V E R Y W H E R E. When I got out of the shower and saw it, I choked. I scolded Alex and told him he had made a very big mess. His reply? "Mommy vacuum!" I have no idea why he came up with that, because he sure don't see me vacuum very often at home, so why would he think I'd vacuum here on our long-awaited vacation? I asked him, and he just smiled very sweetly at me.

After cleaning up the shaving cream mess, I took Alex downstairs to breakfast with me so Pete could shower and get dressed, and Austin could sleep in peace for a short while. Downstairs is a beautiful lobby and breakfast area, just inside from the pool area beyond the french doors. Just lovely. And a delicious hot breakfast buffet. I so needed a good breakfast and some hot coffee. Alex heads straight for the waterfall again, only this time, he wants to give his dump truck a bubble bath in it. Since he had already eaten earlier with Pete, he didn't want much to eat, but I fixed him a plate just to try to keep him occupied while I eat. Eggs and sausage. I cut the sausage into little pieces for him, and he pretended they were logs for the back of his dump truck. Oh, well, at least he's quiet.That lasted long enough for me to eat one hard boiled egg and some fruit. A half cup of coffee. Alex got bored. Starts back over to the waterfall. Trying to keep him occupied, I grab him and put him on my lap and try to get him to practice saying his numbers, and telling me his body parts ("one, two: 2 eyes! one mouth! one-two: 2 ears! one, two, free, four, five, sits, seben, eight, [he always forgets 9] ten! 10 fingers! one, two: 2 hands! etc.). It's not really holding his interest, but we're trying. Remember, we are in the dining area near the pool. In from the pool walks a real hoochie-mamma: teased, bleached blonde hair, big sunglasses, long, ghetto-type fingernails, a lot of gold jewelry and a very, very low-cut two piece swim suit revealing her amply tattooed double-D cleavage. Trashy looking, as far as I was concerned, and should have been covered up while indoors, at least. Alex (along with everyone else in the dining room) took notice, stared at the woman, and my oh-so-discreet son says, out loud, at one of those rare but precise moments when the whole room is hushed: "one, two: 2 boobies! Two boobies, Mommy! Look!" At this point, I am beyond embarrassed. I figure better my 2-year-old noticing and pointing out another woman's chest, rather than my husband, right! I mean, he's two. Mostly, it was all families in the dining area, and if they didn't have toddlers right then, they all had toddlers at one point, so I've given up on being embarrassed by anything a toddler will say or do. Good thing, because the weekend had only just begun.

We eventually make it to SeaWorld. It was cloudy. We no more than made it through the ticket gates when it thundered and began pouring rain. Good thing we now have a double stroller: bigger than my first car. This thing is a monster. We almost could have driven IT to Orlando. We manage to cover Austin in the infant part, but Alex, once inside SeaWorld, is hard to contain in the toddler seat. We pull over by some boats and fake whales and a lighthouse, all sitting in a pond near the entrance, and I really am wondering what else can happen this weekend. We need to buy rain costs because I forgot to pack umbrellas. Just by the time I worked myself up into a tizzy over everything, the rain let up, the clouds drifted off, the sun came out and literally, from that point forward, both boys were pure, sugar-sweet, adorable, well-behaved, minding their manners, perfect little gentlemen. Austin's tummy ache must have cleared up. He was smiling and cooing and very content to ride in the stroller. Alex was curious and mesmerized and questioning everything, not difficult at all, just charming and adorable. It was literally like the quick rainstorm that hit, washed away all problems and irritations that were bugging any of us. Even with so little sleep, Alex was raring to go. We proceeded throughout SeaWorld, seeing ducks, flamingoes, turtles, dolphins, birds, stingrays, gators, penguins, whales, sharks, eels, you name it. Alex had his first taste of cotton candy. I was so excited for him. We waited in a long line, paid a ridiculous $2.99 for a tiny little bag of the stuff, I got ready with my camera, said, "OK, Pete, give it to him NOW!", because I so desperately wanted to catch the expression on his enchanted face of his first taste of the delicious cotton candy I remembered from my childhood. He put it in his mouth, smacked his lips, handed it back to me and said, "don't like, mommy." So much for my Kodak moment.

Alex and Pete took a paddle boat ride, in a huge pink paddle boat shaped like a flamingo. Austin and I stayed on the dock, of course, and it was so funny watching the two of them. The paddle boat seats either two adult and one child, or two children and one adult. It has a bench seat. So with just big of Pete on one side and little Alex on the other side, their pink flamingo paddled around the lake tipped almost completely to one side. It was so funny to watch. All you could see was Pete, you couldn't see Alex because of the way the boat was shaped. It looked like lonely ol' Pete was out there all by himself in the pink flamingo, tipped over to one side.

We saw Shamu, the Killer Whale, and even Austin was in a trance over the show. He would not be content in my arms or in my lap, Austin had to be held up, in the air, facing out, to see the show. Every show we went to, Austin had to see, too. Austin is not one to be happy when left alone. When he wakes up, if he hears any of the rest of us, he CRIES until someone comes to get him. We wants in on all the action, especially at SeaWorld.

Alex rode his first roller coaster at SeaWorld, too. The Shamu Express. He had been absolutely fascinated by some of the bigger, really huge roller coasters, but was too small to ride them, of course. But SeaWorld has a toddler play and pool and ride area, so we spent a lot of time there. Alex was big enough for the Shamu Express, but Austin was napping at that point, so it was just Alex and his daddy on that ride. I was waiting around front with Austin, and some woman was waiting there too, for her son and husband. She commented, "oh, are you waiting on your little one, too? I'm not so sure about it, it's his first time on a roller coaster....I'm kind of worried, I hope he'll be OK." So that, of course, sets me off. I said, "well, how old is your son?" "Five," she replied. So now I'm about to go crashing into line to grab Pete and Alex out of there, but I couldn't see them in line and couldn't leave Austin. I'm thinking "if she's worried, and her kid is 5, what the hell am I doing letting my 2 year old on this thing. I'm a horrible mother!" I was beginning to panic. So Pete and Alex come to the front of the line, and as luck would have it, they get seated in the very first seat on the ride. Right up front, where you can see everything. So I'm waving at Pete, trying to use sign language to make sure Alex is OK, but they just assume I'm waving to say hello, so they wave back at me. They take off, I try to take a picture, but it doesn't come out very well. I managed to see Alex's face as they went by me, and he has this look on his face of "what is my lunatic mom freaking out over? This ride is nothing." He actually looked puzzled. But: he had a blast. Not one tear, not one cry, not one shout or shriek. Nothing. He rode it like he was a pro. So much for all my worries. He's just one tough kid.

The manatee exhibit was another story. First, you stroll along this wooden pathway and see the manatees from up above. Then, you can go below to see them from under the water, and learn all about them and their protected status and their habitat. You can't take strollers below, so Pete stayed above ground with Austin while Alex and I went below. We walk along, seeing all the manatees and other little fish. The aquarium is rather quiet, and at the time Alex and I were in there, it was filled with adults and older children, no toddlers in there except Alex. We get near the end of the aquarium and there is this absolutely huge, gigantic manatee. We stop to see it. Alex walks right up to the glass wall of the aquarium and is looking in. The manatee floats over to the wall and looks at Alex. Kinda neat. I kneel down by Alex and tell him to say hello to the manatee. He says, "Hi, man-tee!" Cute. The manatee looks at us, then flapped it's left flipper, so I tell Alex, "oh, look, the manatee is waving to you, Alex!" Alex grins, kind of jumps in place and waves back at the manatee, and says, "look, mommy, man-tee wave! Man-tee wave! Hi, man-tee! Hi, man-tee!" Everyone around us in the theater is oohh-ing and aahh-ing, charmed by the scene of the cute little boy and the manatee communicating. The manatee floats upwards head first and is now belly up against the glass, so we can see it's tummy. OK, we can deal with that. We see a big hole in the manatee's belly, and Alex asks "what's dat, mommy?" I tell him it's the manatee's belly button. Do manatee's have belly buttons? I'm not certain that's what it was, but I didn't want to tell him the other thing I was afraid it might be. The manatee's belly ripples, gives a big gurgle. Then another big gurgle. Bubbles start coming out of the manatee. I think I know what is happening. Another gurgle. More bubbles. Uh-oh. Yup, sure thing. The manatee's belly heaves and jiggles and right out of the manatee's "belly button" comes a huge, yellow-orange colored turd. Alex and I are still crouched down, looking up at the manatee, with about a 15 or 16 other people all nearby watching the manatee wave at the cute little boy. I'm thinking to myself, "with all these people around, please don't ask me what that is, Alex, please don't." I'm trying to think of a delicate word to use for what is, in fact, manatee doodoo. Well, Alex is just way too smart and is so far beyond me. That enormous manatee turd floated towards the glass wall, hit it, and broke into dozens of tiny, little pieces. Mini manatee doo-doo's. All bright yellow-orange in color. Heaven help me. Alex takes one look, jumps in place up and down, again and again, waves and says, loudly, of course, because Alex knows no other way to speak except loudly: "Oh, look, mommy! Goldfish! Hi, goldfish! Hi there, goldfish! Mommy, look at the baby goldfish! The man-tee had baby goldfish" I laughed until I almost peed my pants. Thank goodness everyone else around us did, too.

So what's left after that performance...not much. Our SeaWorld 2007 vacation was wonderful. Full of events and surprises I could never have predicted. But who can, with a 2 year old. I think our first Family of Four vacation went very well over all. I mean, you gotta laugh, right?

May 2007

2009-02-15T18:53:00.001-08:00

Alex was now 2 years old....and talking. Because we, his parents, had taught his how to talk. Apparently, however, we never taught him how to SHUT UP! EVER! The child talked non-stop.

He went on a bug kick. He loves his bug book, and decided to re-name every family member by a bug name. Daddy is now "roach", mommy is now "lady bug", Austin is now "beetle" and Alex himself is now a "grasshopper". He even gave our social worker, Candace, a bug name when she came to the house to do the final homestudy visit for Austin's adoption: Candace is now "lightning bug". When he told her that, she just melted. He can really charm the ladies, this boy. Not long after the bug kick, it became a fruit kick: but mostly, we're all apples or bananas. Or something called a "rootie-tootie". Don't ask, coz I don't know what that is, except at one time or another, all last month, we have all been "rootie-tootie's".

I took quite a bit of time off from work in May, so we had a lot of adventures. We went to Cedar Key for Mother's Day. We shopped, went to the park, walked the beach and watched the boats. Alex became fascinated by the boaters loading up and coming ashore at the end of the day when the tide went out. We had dinner at a very nice seafood restaurant on a pier stuck way out overlooking the water. Both boys were very well-behaved, and Alex, of course, had the waitress eating out of his hand. On Mother's Day, after church, we went to a Mother's Day brunch at the Elk's Lodge and the following evening, when Mom was off from work, we went to GrillMasters (Mom's favorite restaurant) for dinner. A funny thing began happening at dinner in Cedar Key: Alex at one point was rather feisty and began throwing things, so we had to scold him one or twice. Later on, he accidently knocked something over, and looked worried that we would scold him again, but we told him "that's OK, it was an accident. You didn't mean to do that, you have to be careful, but it was an accident." And we gave him hugs and kisses, so he would know we were not mad at him. Ever since then, when he is naughty and throws things, he'll look up and smile and say "uh-oh! Accident!" (Only it sounds like "assident" when he says it!)

The following weekend was Pete's birthday and we had a cook-out/party at the house. Nothing fancy, just family and a few friends, but it was a great time. We've gotten so much work done in the back yard, and Pete wanted to use his brand new stainless steel gas grill, so it was time for a party! The best part, as far as Alex is concerned, is the bounce house we bought for the back yard. He and our grandson, Jared, or "my Dared" as Alex calls him, and the other kids, Mason and Kiley, had so much fun in that thing! They bounced and screamed and jumped and ran around in that thing for hours. It was so much fun to watch them have so much fun! I can't wait until Austin can join in. Alex really has bonded with Jared and gets jealous when Jared plays with any other kids that come to our house. When Jared is around it's: "Dared, watch dis!" "Dared, come here!" and "Dared, play dat!" Luckily, for the most part, Jared is pretty indulgent to Alex's case of hero worship. Only a few times have I had to explain to Jared that he needs to pay attention to Alex, because Alex looks up to him so much. Jared is actually pretty cool with the whole thing, as Jared is an only child, and tells us all the time how much he would love a brother or sister. Ashley has vetoed that idea permanently, and is glad we keep adopting kids to "let her off the baby hook"! Jared says it's "not fair, he has no brothers, and his mom [Ashley] has three!" So having a baby uncle for a "little brother" is the next best thing, I guess!

We got some really big news on the day of Pete's party however. We were finally going to do this adoption thing the...um...well, I don't know if it would really be considered "old-fashioned" or "standard" or just what. Maybe "conventional" is the word I'm looking for. See, with Alex's adoption, his birth mother being my cousin, Tabatha, we actually circumvented the whole profile-submission-waiting-to-be-matched-with-a-birth-mother route. She was pregnant, knew we wanted a family, and that was that, perfect match. With Austin, we submitted our home study and profile, and, expecting a long wait, were united with our new child less than 2 weeks later. A speed record, according to everyone who heard about it.

This time, however, things were going to go "by the book". We had submitted our profiles to several different places back in early February. With Austin's birth happening so quickly, we didn't even have time to think about withdrawing our submissions from elsewhere. So we got a call in early May that there was a pregnant teenage birth mother in Central Florida that would like to look at our profiles, and were we interested? Hhmmm, well, we went on to explain about Austin's abrupt arrival, and asked if we were "allowed", or was it "legal" to adopt two babies in one year. Well, if we were up for the challenge, it certainly was! So we were asked to supplement the profile we had previously submitted to now include pictures of us with Austin, just so this birth mother could see the entire family. We did, and lo and behold, that was it!We got the call the morning of Pete's birthday party that these birth parents, a 15 year old Caucasian girl and a 14 year old African-American boy, were very impressed with our family profile and had chosen us because we had one son of each race. They felt that their unborn child would grow up just the way they wanted him to, with two big brothers, one white and one black...an ethnically blended family that would love and care for him as they did. Another bonus: the birth father was from Jamaica, and my name being Jamaica, they felt, just confirmed their choice!

So here we were with 2-year-old Alex, 2 month old Austin, and "pregnant" again!The baby was a boy, due in September, so we actually had time this time to prepare for our 3rd son. First off: his name. Our "second" choice for a name when we were considering names for Austin was the name Andrew. So: Andrew Joseph it is! We did not have a lot of prep for in terms of clothes, toys, bottles, etc. because...well....Austin was still so newborn and we already had everything we needed! Just needed a little more of everything now. It was going to be like having twins!

There was much more to celebrate at Pete's party than just his birthday...we announced to everyone about being chosen for yet another little boy to join our family. Big sister Ashley, excited and so very happy for us, made the comment, however, that she would like at some point to so shopping for some pink! A lot of people thought we were nuts, but we've always believed WHY BE NORMAL? We never have been, why start now? So we'd have 3 boys under 3...oh, the fun we'd have, they noise they'd make, the messes the would be in the middle of...but oh, the love...the little boys under 3! Start your engines!

Spring 2007; A Family of Four

2009-02-12T15:33:00.001-08:00

So life begins as a family of four. Alex adored Austin...calling him “Ossin” since he couldn’t quite pronounce the “T” sound yet. More often he calls him “Ossin baby brudder”. He loved to hold Austin on his lap, asking “Alex hold Ossin, peez?” He would pet him, kiss him, talk to him, cuddle him and burp him. He loved to watch Austin get his diaper changed, explaining to me, “Mommy! Ossin doo-doo diaper!” Loved to help with Austin’s bubble bath, and let us know everything Austin did: “Ossin eyes open!”, “Ossin goin’ night-night”, “Ossin burp!”, “Ossin crying!”. He made sure to point out all of Austin’s body parts: “Ossin fingers”, “Ossin toes”, “Ossin mouf [mouth]”, “Ossin ears”. And as soon as Alex would wake up in the morning, his first question, every time, was “Where Ossin?” and “What Ossin doin’?”. We were truly blessed for the acceptance and affection Alex had (and still has) for his baby brother, especially since we had no real time to prepare Alex for Austin’s arrival.

So began a very exciting and busy time in our lives. We had visitors galore, family and friends stopping by to meet the new baby and bring him something. My dear friend Wendy threw a baby shower for me and it was, again, the loveliest, best time a mommy could have. We took Austin to his first church serve when he was only 5 days old. Everyone at church was stunned and thrilled for us, and just adored Austin. Alex was so proud to be the big brother, showing Austin off to the child care workers in the nursery where he used to stay when he was a newborn.

We (finally) made our much-planned trip to SeaWorld on St. Patrick’s day weekend. With a 2 year old, and a three week old. It was such a fun visit. Alex got to see ducks, horses, donkeys, flamingos, birds, dolphins, turtles, you name it. We also received our first dirty look, being an interracial family. I was posed near the ducks holding Austin, with Alex next to me, and Pete taking the picture. A old, old couple walked past us, shooting us a hateful look. I did not catch it at first, Pete did. He mentioned it to me when the photo was snapped, and I turned around and caught the hateful expression. I briefly considered going after the couple and addressing them, but I let it go. Had they said something, I definitely would have gone after them, but my thought was, “well, this is the first of what could me many comments, looks, stares and racism we’ll face throughout life, and I’m not going to let someone else’s small mindedness ruin a beautiful day for my family.” So I let it slide......that time.....

We did a number of things for Easter that year. First, there was the Easter party/egg hunt with our adoption support group, where a friend dressed as the Easter bunny to visit the kids and hand out eggs and gifts and candy....and where Alex refused (again) to go anywhere near the furry beast. Then, there was the egg hunt/cook out at our church on the day before Easter, where we listened to the story of Easter, sang songs, played games and, of course, hunted for eggs, all while freezing our bunny butts off. And then, the big day, with church services that morning, and a scrumptious brunch buffet at Banyan’s Restaurant with the family and some friends. It was a perfect weekend.

With two boys in tow, we decided to take the plunge and....bought a van. That meant no more driving the POS bomb for mommy. It had been Pete’s truck, which got handed down to me when Alex came along, so Pete could drive my nice Buick with the car seat in it. I hated that truck....dirty, smelly, dented, dinged, yucky...and gave me so much trouble that one time (well, OK, you got me..more than one time) I screamed at it: “You piece of S#%T”! And horribly, Alex overheard me once and asked what I had just said....I was so fuming mad at the truck at the time, I could not trust myself to answer, so Pete answered for me and explained to Alex that Mommy was mad at the truck and called it a piece of doo-doo. From that point on, the old green truck was lovingly or hatedly (depending on who was referring to it: Alex or mommy) called the doo-doo truck.Well, the doo-doo truck brought us a measly $500.00 closer to our down payment on our new Nissan Quest. I loved it! Although I hardly drove, since it was now Pete’s dad van, it meant I got to go back to driving my nice Buick. Aaaahhhh, happy mommy!

So we settled into Spring of 2007...still-working Mommy, still staying-at-home-with-the boys Daddy, and the Double A Team: Alex and Austin. We were enjoying life so very much and counting our blessings every day. Alex was healthy and growing, and talking up a storm, repeating everything anyone said. His favorite expressions were: “Mommy doin’?” or “Daddy doin’?”; “Mommy sit down”, “Up, Daddy”, “What dis?” and our favorite, “Juice honey” (because whenever his grandma asks him if he wants juice, she asks, “do you want more juice, honey?” so Alex thinks juice is juice honey. Actually, he began to put honey on the end of every food word he knew, so asking him what he would like for breakfast or lunch or dinner was an earful: “eggs honey”, “saus-is [for sausage] honey”, “cer-we-wal [for cereal] honey”, “hot dog honey”, “mac-roni honey” and “popsicle honey” were some of his favorites. And he got into an odd habit of naming random objects he either saw or came in contact with throughout the day when he said his prayers at night: after the usual “Now I lay me....” we’d go through everyone in the family asking that they be blessed “Mommy, Daddy”, etc. But then Alex would add in “God bess the van, God bess Daddy’s hammer, God bess Mommy’s vacuum cleaner”, etc. He also began to get really good about his manners, most times saying “peas” and “fank ooo”. Funny, and endearing....he began growing up so fast.So life was great and we were doing very, very well, if tired a lot of the time. Both boys were happy, well-adjusted and healthy. Alex couldn’t wait for Austin to get big enough to play bull dozers and dumptrucks with him. I could tell they were going to be great brothers and most of all...great friends. It was already such a thrill and such a blessing to watch them together. We had the fair-haired, blue-eyed, beach bum surfer looking boy, and our dark skinned, dreamy-eyed, exotic islander boy! The perfect pair! Life was good....and was only going to get better!

Everyone....meet Austin!

2009-02-09T08:44:00.001-08:00

So we arrived home with our newborn. And just so Austin would know exactly what kind of West Virginia and Tennessee hillbilly families he was joining, he arrived to his new home with, of all things, a broken toilet sitting on the front porch. When Pete had gotten the call on the 20th about Austin's early arrival and us being chosen as his adoptive family, he was in the process of installing a new toilet in our guest bathroom, which was now going to be the "boys" bathroom, and where potty training Alex would begin very soon. Potty training tends to work better with an actual flushing toilet, so when our clogged and broke down beyond repair, Pete (the family handyman) was installing a new one. But when we got the call, toilet be damned! You can wait....we still have the master bathroom toilet, and Alex can keep peeing his pullups for a few days....we were off to meet and bring home our new son! But we had to put the broken old toilet somewhere until trash pick up day, because Alex still had to be bathed.....what the heck! To the front porch it is! Let's really show off our roots!

We eventually installed our new toilet. We survived the BUFA incident. It was time to let the rest of the family know about our latest bundle of joy. The last time we did it, we kind of ticked some family members off, because it was Christmas time, we did not tell anyone ahead of time besides my parents where we were going or what we were going for, we traveled out of state for Alex's birth, and we were gone for a month. So I can understand people getting peeved. But this time, even we didn't know about Austin until the week prior, and even then, it was only a possibility.

So on Friday, February, February 23, we called Ashley and Adrian and invited both of them to meet us for lunch that day. We called Jessica, too, but with her living and working a ways away from us, she couldn't make it, as we predicted. We told the girls that I had taken a mental health day from work and we wanted to catch up and enjoy a day with the family.

We arranged for the family to meet at a local restaurant that is run by a friend of the family. We had basically the whole place to ourselves, as we made it a late lunch. Pete and the boys and I got there first and "set up". Ashley was the first to arrive and she came in and kissed and hugged Alex, her baby brother, and then kissed her dad, and then kissed and hugged me. And for those of you who know Ashley, you know she is always a flurry of activity, a busy bee of hustle and bustle. So after hurrying around and kissing and hugging everyone, she finally settled down in her chair and said, "So, how's everyone doing? What's up?" And she looked from face to face, going around the table, and her eyes finally landed on Austin. She said, "What? Who's that? Oh, my gosh, there's a baby....who's baby?....oh, my gosh, is this your new baby?!?!?! Is this my new brother?!?!?!" And with a huge smile on her face, she immediately got up and went over to meet her new baby brother. She went on to explain and apologize for not noticing, saying that she noticed the car seat out of the corner of her eye, but that she just didn't pay it much attention, thinking it was something for Alex. That moment was so perfect, so.....Ashley.....I couldn't have scripted a more perfect introduction between big sis and baby brother.

Next, Adrian arrived....and it was the exact opposite of Ashley. Adrian arrived apologizing and sheepish, saying, "I'm sorry, I know it was supposed to be a surprise, but I already know!" She had had to take her car out to Joe's place early that morning (Joe being a mechanic, a minister, and Alex's godfather and one of Pete's best friends). Joe had asked her what she thought of her new baby brother....oops, the cat's out of the bag now. So Adrian knew, but she had yet to meet him....and when she did, she fell in love with her new baby brother the same as Ashley.

So all local siblings were present and accounted for. We went through the story for Adrian and Ashley and had a wonderful, delicious lunch. While everyone was gathered there, we also called Matthew out in Mississippi, and Jessica in Ocala, to let them in on the news. And from there, the news spread. By the end of lunch, the entire family knew and were calling our cells to congratulate us on Austin's arrival.

Lunch lasted so long that Ashley had to leave to pick up Jared from school. When she did, she brought him back to the restaurant, where we stayed to linger over dessert and coffee. When Jared arrived, he was full of his usual happiness and 6 year old gusto. We pointed out Austin to him right away. Jared did not look too happy, asking "who's that?" And we must have just said something along the lines of "his name is Austin". We must not have explained that he was our newly adopted son, or that he was Alex's new brother and Jared's new uncle, because when I told Jared that Austin was coming home with us, he looked and acted rather upset. It was not until many months later that Jared explained to us that he did not understand that Austin was our new baby....Jared thought that Austin was "just some baby that someone left behind at the restaurant" and that we were just going to pick up that baby and bring him home on a whim! Wow! What a misunderstanding....so note to selves....on next and future babies....clue Jared in!

So we ran the gamut of situations in bringing Austin to meet his family. From Ashley, to Adrian, to Jared, to Matthew and Jessica on the phone. But I'm blessed to be able to say that whatever the introduction, Austin was welcomed, loved, and warmly brought into the fold. We managed to trick the family again, this time without really meaning to. The family has come to not know what to expect from us, especially when I take a day off from work, or we both leave town for a few days. And believe it or not....we had more surprises coming their way!

B U F A

2009-02-06T06:11:00.000-08:00

So we made it home with Austin the afternoon of Thursday, February 22, 2007. Since we were driving right past his place anyway, we stopped along the way home to see the boys' godfather, one of Pete' best friends, "Uncle" Joe. After that, we came straight home. After putting Austin and Alex both down for naps, and then staring with awe and wonder at both boys for what seemed like hours, we began to settle in and sort through all the paperwork that the hospital and our attorney had given us upon Austin's discharge.

Now, it's important to note that over the course of the 48 hours he remained in the hospital nursery after his birth, we asked tons of questions of the nurses and our attorney, Jack Gibney, as well as Austin's birth family. We had been assured a number of times that he was healthy, came from a healthy birth mother, and that the birth mother had been drug-alcohol-and cigarette free, with a healthy pregnancy and no known physical or mental health problems.

At home, now, reading everything through more thoroughly, one thing I noticed in his medical records was a note in the 'Maternal Risk Factors' Section, saying BUFA. All caps. No other explanation. Then, it was also in the doctor's discharge summary, the handwritten notes section. BUFA. Then I remembered seeing this phrase, this "BUFA" on his hospital nursery crib. On the paper card that the stick to the end of the crib, stating the weight, length and date of birth of the baby. I wondered what this was and really, the more I thought about it, the more worried I became. I called my mom, a nurse, and she had never heard of such a thing. I asked a couple of other immediate family members and friends who were either parents or in the medical field if they knew what BUFA meant. No one knew. I got online and put BUFA in several search engines....nothing explained this mystery ailment known as BUFA.

I ended up calling my pediatrician and asking the nurse, who had never heard of BUFA. I was now in a panic. I called back to the hospital and left messages for a return call. I was near full-blown hysteria, scared of this BUFA syndrome or BUFA disease my new child had. What was his prognosis, what would be his disability, what were the long-term effects of BUFA? Would my health insurance cover it? Could he go to school, would he be able to walk and talk and function like a normal child? Please someone tell me: WHAT IS BUFA?

I got a return call from my pediatrician's office. Our beloved Dr. B was on the phone.

B = BABY
U - UP
F = FOR
A = ADOPTION

Cut to mommy, not knowing whether to laugh or cry with relief!

Welcome little one!

2009-02-02T07:36:00.000-08:00

.....and like so much of the time, "the best laid plans......." and all.

But happily, they were interrupted with good news. Tuesday, February 20, 2007, 12 noon, the phone rings at our house just at Alex and Pete are walking in the door. Pete grabs the phone and a woman's voice said, "you need to come get your son." Pete, bewildered, looks around for Alex, who has just wandered into the family room. Pete asks, "excuse me?" and the woman's voice says, "Your son. Your new son. He was just born. You need to come get him." Pete is still a little befuddled and asks, "who is this?" Caroline answers with her name and title and says, "I talked to your wife last week about a baby...didn't she tell you?" Pete says, "Yes, but ...what? That baby...we never got a call....were we chosen? What?" He's not sure even what questions to ask. So Caroline cuts in and gets serious. She goes on to explain that we had been presented to that birth mother, who had chosen us to adopt her baby, but (as predicted) wanted to go home and "sleep on her decision" for a while and discuss it with her family. So she went home and then went into early labor at 2:00 the next morning, delivering our beloved Austin at 6:30 A.M. on February 20, 2007. Our new son!

Caroline says that we need to get over there and start the ball rolling! We need to meet with the birth mother and her family, meet with her (Caroline) and meet with our attorney to get the paperwork started! So Pete calls me at work and asks me if I'm sitting down. I told him yes, and, prepared for the worst, asked him why. He said, "we have a new son!" "WHAT!?!" "You heard me, we have a new son. He was born this morning...that birth mother, she picked us and then went into early labor.....he's ours!" I actually got dizzy. I almost fainted. Just like that, from one moment to the next, I'm a mother of two. He said we needed to get over there and get things started, so I left the office and told my boss I'd be back when I could.

I head home, only to have to sit and wait. Turns out, with the baby coming early and no pre-adoption paperwork prepared, and with the heightened security for newborns in hospital nurseries, we cannot actually get into the hospital nursery to see our baby without some legal documentation from our attorney, who was stuck in court all day. So I ended up at home the rest of the afternoon, not able to go anywhere. But: the time was not wasted. We had to pick a name for our new baby. When Pete and I first started talking kids in our marriage, we picked out two names: a girl's name (yet to be used) and a boy's name: Alex. Now with our second son, we needed to pick something out fast. We ended up going onto one of those baby name center websites, started with the letter "A", came across Austin, and liked it. Austin Christpher it is! Christopher for two reasons: 1) my dad really likes that name; and 2) Christopher to honor my beloved Aunt Chris, who has been such a support and help to us in many of our decisions and troubled moments. Well, make that three reasons, now that I think about it: we just really liked the name.

Next, baby Austin needed some clothes. Alex had been born at a whopping almost 9 pounds, and little Austin weighed only 5 pounds at birth, with coming a month early. So it was off to Wal-Mart for preemie diapers and a couple of preemie outfits, and some formula, bottles and a few other newborn necessities. We were still waiting to hear from our attorney, and in the meantime, we wanted to talk to the birth mother and thank her. But she was asleep all afternoon, and it was late that night before she could stay awake long enough to talk to me over the phone.

We had a very short chat and then she asked me to speak to a family member of hers, which I did. They wanted to meet me and my family the next day, just to have some sense of who we are. We happily agreed. So Wednesday dawns and off we set for the East coast. We make it there, and it's more of the same...sitting and waiting. We met with the birth mother's aunt and cousin, and were very pleased with everything we learned of them, and they seemed pleased with the birth mother's choice of us as the baby's adoptive family. We learned some interesting things about the family that we are anxious to see if genetically predispose Austin to a particular ability (I'll give you a little hint: think of football)!

Finally, we're allowed back into the nursery. We pass the big nursery window, and there is only one little baby in there. All bundled up and all alone. He had the newborn baby cap on his head, and was burrito bundled, so it was hard to see if it was a he or a she, a black or a white child. But...what a sad sight. A little newborn, in there all alone. We asked if that was him and we were told yes. We both teared up and held hands, and made a vow right then and there, "little baby, you will never be so alone again, ever in your life." And in we went to hold our precious son.

Words will never accurately describe seeing and holding Austin for the first time. Nor Alex's reaction. He has so tiny: almost half of the size that Alex was at birth! But he was still an armful.....of love! And to see Alex be so gentle and loving and curious about the baby! What a joy to watch! One thing to note: it was with baby Austin that Alex's baby-foot fetish began. Austin's feet, with him having come early, were so incredibly tiny...Alex just could not comprehend that those were his baby brother's feet. He kept pulling off Austin's socks and just tickling and looking at those tiny little feet.

So we spent the entire morning and afternoon visiting with our newborn in the breast pump education room of the nurse's station at the hospital. Finally, it was time to go for the night. We had met with our attorney and the paperwork was all in order. But first, there was another surprise for Alex. We had always been aware that a new baby can cause some jealousy in the first born, so to hopefully circumvent that, we had brought along and hidden in the trunk a "present" that Austin "brought with him" when he arrived to share with his new big brother: a HUGE Tonka dump truck (in honor of what he wanted to name the new baby)! We let him tear into that right then and there and he just loved it! He wanted more baby brothers after that!

So the three of us (and the new dump truck, of course) loaded up in the car and headed back home. About halfway home, there was road construction going on on one of the county roads in a little town that we had to pass through. It was now dark, and Alex was sleepy. Pete up front driving and I'm in back with Alex. Someone got impatient with the back log of traffic and came roaring around from back behind us, and when they saw the construction on the road, had to slam on brakes, and almost spun around and hit us. I got mad and was spewing, more to myself than anyone else, "Yeah, that's right, go ahead....get in a hurry and hit our car and kill us...a family..... of four."

And then the sweetest moment, the happiest realization came to me...what I had just said...a family of four....I'd only seen him for the first time less than 12 hours earlier. He was only 36 hours old, and had never really opened his eyes much to look at us, the paperwork was far from done, the adoption was months away from final, we wasn't even with us in the car at the moment, but back in the nursery at the hospital for one more night...but he was OURS...our son, our second born, our Austin Christopher, Alex's baby brother, our beloved child. We were, already, a family of four. Welcome to the world, my precious newborn son!

Let the good times roll!

Trying to make it to Sea World

2009-01-30T06:43:00.001-08:00

So February rolls around and as always happens to me, I get antsy...Spring fever, cabin fever, call it what you will, but the holidays were over, and it was a long way until summertime, and I was restless already. But my first order of business was picking up our (finally) completed homestudy and our profiles and sending them out. We mailed them out to the office of the attorney who handled Alex’s Florida end of the adoption, as well as to an unwed mother’s home in North Florida. That was it. We’re officially “pregnant”. We mentally settled in for what we thought would be a 6-month, 9-month or even a year long wait to adopt our next baby.

So to help pass the time during what I thought would be a long, long wait, I bought 2-year premium passes to Busch Gardens and SeaWorld. Alex was walking and talking and over two years old now, so I thought it would be a good time to start taking him to some amusement parks. After all, what good is living in Florida if we don’t partake of the wonderful parks, beaches and activities here? So we got our passes and planned a trip to SeaWorld for the following weekend.

The next weekend dawned with Alex jumping up and down in his crib, screaming over and over, “yucky pi-wo”, “yucky pi-wo”, “yucky pi-wo”, (for yucky pillow), over and over again. Turns out, he was right. He had thrown up, all over and everywhere, in his crib.

Now, Alex had never been much of a vomiter. Never had reflux, never a horrible spitter-upper as an infant, none of it. But this, this was bad. And it continued all day. It became projectile vomiting, something I had only experienced once with our grandson Jared when he was an infant and living with his mother and us after he was born. Alex, now, in this instant, put Jared that time to shame. We are talking target vomiting, Olympic event caliber. NASA’s shuttle launching could take lessons from this kid on hitting an obsolete target. I’d never seen anything like it.

Then it got real fun: hubby picked up whatever foul bug Alex had. Hubby tried to be brave and forge ahead with the day, but ended up spending the afternoon worshiping at the porcelin temple himself. So after who-knows-how-many rounds of cleaning up, I managed to get both of them to bed, and decided to relax and catch up on some reading. So....I settled down in Pete’s butt-magnet (recliner) with a good book and a bag of something I’d never tried before, but sounded delicious. Peanut-butter and chocolate Chex Mix. YUM! I love Reese’s Peanut Butter cups and I love Chex Mix, so this stuff sounded like a real treat! I kicked back, the house was silent, I read a little, munched a little, then dozed a little. I woke up about an hour later.....and....uh, oh....oh, no....please, no......HURL!

Maybe not so surprisingly, the peanut-butter and chocolate Chex Mix looked about the same when it came back to....re-visit....me.

Yup, I had caught it too. Maybe it served me right for feeling so smug by actually sitting down to snack, read and sleep while my sick family slept. I don’t know, but whatever hit us...hit hard. It was thankfully only a 24-hour virus, but you’ve never seen a whole family so decimated in your life. About the time it hit me, Alex woke up from his nap and the worst of it was over for him, so he began trailing me around, and whatever happened to be my target with that particular hurl, Alex would jump up and down and scream, “yucky! Mommy! Yucky floor! Yucky blankey! Yucky table!” Oh, that day was looooooooooooong.

We recovered from our weekend stomach bug and I went back to work as usual. An uneventful week followed, we were all feeling fully recovered, and we decided to re-schedule our Sea World trip for the upcoming weekend. Friday morning, February 16th, one day before our scheduled departure for our first SeaWorld with a two-year-old adventure, I get the phone call that would again change my life forever. It was the director of the unwed mother's home that was helping a young college student with her unplanned pregnancy. The birth mother was young, unemployed, in college, and pregnant, and wanted to place her baby for adoption. And the director was asking to present us to this young woman as as potential family for her baby. I was told that the baby was a boy, and African-American and asked if that would be a problem for us. I told her absolutely not. She advised me that the baby was due in late March, and asked if that was too soon. WOW! That is soon...but I said OK. I then had some questions for her....what's the pregnancy been like, does the birth mother smoke, drink or do drugs, what is known about the birth father. She answered that it has been healthy, uneventful pregnancy, the birth mother does not smoke, drink or do drugs, and Caroline (the director) is sure of this, as she knows the birth mother's family. The only drawbacks were that the birth mother did not get prenatal care until later in her pregnancy, as she was young and living in denial about being pregnant for the first few months; and that not much is known about the birth father, as the relationship had been a short term dating relationship gone bad.

So YES! I told her! Please present us to her! She said that the birth mother was coming in on Monday, the 19th, to talk to Caroline again and Caroline would present our profile, along with any other families that wished to be presented, at that time. She advised that birth mothers usually take a week or so to make up their minds, and usually take home the profiles to get the opinions of family members or the birth father in making this decision. So she said she would call us, probably by the following Friday, to let us know the decision.

So it was with eager anticipation that we went into that weekend. WOW! In another month we could have another baby! I couldn't believe it! We had had our profile out for only a week, and already we had our first call! So it seemed even more important that we have this first (and probably only) theme park adventure with just Alex, and him having us all to himself, before the possiblity of a new baby comes home and he becomes a big brother.

The morning of our SeaWorld adventure dawns, and I'm so excited. We eat breakfast and began packing a diaper bag, etc. for a day at SeaWorld. I change Alex out of PJs after breakfast and when I take his clothes off: OMG! My baby was covered, all over this trunk, arms, legs and belly with tiny red welts of some sort! What the heck is this? He did not appear sick in any way...no fever, no pulling at the ears or scratching of the throat, no coughing, sneezing, runny nose...but he had little red bumps all over him. I called to Pete and he came running....neither of us could figure out what this was. I called my Mom, the RN, to ask her opinion. I had her on the phone while I was looking Alex over yet again, buck-naked on the changing table and told her, "it looks like bug bites all over him." And it did. Like he had been swarmed with mosquitoes overnight and they had all but carried him away. He was red and bumpy everywhere.

Mom had no clue, and based on his lack of other symptoms, I thought it might be an allergic reaction to something he'd eaten the day before; but to be on the safe side, I call Peds After Hours. They agreed with Mom and me and said to just give him some Benadryl and if anything else cropped up, call back. So that's exactly what we did: gave him some Benadryl and he slept most of the day and night, while we racked our brains and finally determined that there must have been something in the pot of vegetable stew we'd had the night before that caused this reaction in him. So there you have it: our SeaWorld adventure was off again this weekend. But the funny part was that for the rest of that week, Alex kept telling people (using the saddest, most pitiful face imaginable) that he had bugs! He had listened far too well when I had been on the phone with my Mom, telling her the welts looked like bug bites, because he made sure the rest of the world knew we had bugs and that they'd bitten him all over his body (gee, thanks, Alex....makes us look like terrific parents).

Well, by Sunday morning Alex was all better, but to play it safe, we stayed home anyway. We decided to try again for SeaWorld the following weekend. We felt it was even more important to go and show Alex how devoted we are to him, and really spend some fun family, quality time with him, before our next baby arrived, hopefully the next month. So we made our plans........

New Year 2007!

2009-01-26T07:12:00.001-08:00

Well, the new year had begun: 2007!

It began with our annual New Year’s Day combined birthday celebrations dinner, wherein we celebrate all the December and January birthdays that run together and sometimes get overlooked with the busy-ness of Christmas and then the rut of post holiday blahs. Included: Aunt Chris’ birthday (December 16); Alex’s birthday (December 28); Mom’s birthday (January 1); Dad’s birthday (January 7); Adrian’s birthday (January 10) and my birthday (January 15). So to cover all this, we headed to one of our favorite restaurants, Romano’s Macaroni Grill.

Macaroni Grill offers a wonderful loaf of bread for dipping in the tasty olive oil and spices they bring to the table. And while this bread is delicious, it’s a little different from my mother’s bread. I may have written previously about my mother’s home-made-from-scratch-sourdough bread. She makes loaves and loaves and loaves every week, and we get our bread fresh out of the oven almost daily. Alex loves it; he shoves it in his mouth by the fistful and calls it “Maw-maw’s Happy Bread”...I guess coz it makes him happy to eat it. Whatever the reason, he can shove almost an entire half-loaf in his mouth at once, that’s how soft and delicious Mom’s bread it. The dipping bread at Macaroni Grill, however, is a little crunchier for dipping. Alex didn’t realize this, and spent the entire night repeatedly trying to shove the whole round loaf in his mouth. Despite Alex’s table-manner-lacking display, a great time was had by all.

However, a sad, sad decision had to be made the next day, saying goodbye to a beloved member of our family. My cat, Chloey, left us after we made the painful choice to end her suffering. She had been diagnosed as having kidney trouble about 18 months earlier. At that time, the vet did not sound optimistic about her chances of survival. I was determined, though, and did a little research on my own. We ended up bringing her home and giving her twice daily sub-q injections of fluids to help flush out her kidneys, as well as keeping her on a very strict diet. To the shock of our vet, over the course of a few months, she greatly improved, and within about 8 months, her condition had improved to the point we only had to give her injections a couple of times a week. She lived for an additional 10 months after that a very happy, healthy life. Then, around Thanksgiving, she crashed again and it was back to the twice-daily, and then on to 3 times daily injections. She recovered only slightly, and then, sadly, her liver started shutting down as well. She lost a lot of weight and began having trouble walking and meowing. We knew the end was near, and we kept her comfortable over the long new year’s weekend. But on the morning of January 2, she was ready to go, and I had to be ready to let her go. She left our lives that afternoon, in the doctor’s office, 11 happy and loving years after she had come into our family. She was a solid white Angora, as soft and prissy and precious as you could ever imagine, and still, to this day, she is horribly, terribly missed. Her official name was Clarissa Grace (Chloey) but she was also called “PP” for “pretty princess”; and our family is not the same without her.

Later in January, we got some great news: we were going to be grandparents again. Matthew’s wife, Emily, was pregnant. Their oldest, Colton, was 4 ½, and they finally decided to add to their family with another baby. And, within the next few days, we got the news that our second adoption homestudy was finalized, and to put it in adoption lingo, we, too, were now expecting.

I remember feeling so very sad for Matt and Emily...I had had two miscarriages in years past, and the heartbreak of a miscarriage can be crushing. Especially when you had tried so hard and so long for a baby of your own. I was glad those days were behind me...not having a baby days, just the trying to get pregnant days. I was “out of that box” and into another...and I was relieved and happy to be pursuing adding to my own family again as well.

We began talking to Alex about a new baby, asking him whether he wanted a brother or a sister. His reply? “I want a dump truck.” This went on for a few weeks, and his answer never varied. He wanted a dump truck. I began cleaning out Adrian’s old room in preparation for the future arrival of Alex’s new sibling, and found an old, life-sized doll that had belonged to Adrian, left forgotten in the top of her closet. I decided to break Alex in with that, and I began carrying around that baby doll, so that he’d get used to seeing me with another baby. The first time he saw me with it, he pointed to it and stood on his tippy toes, indicating he wanted to see what it was. So I sat on the couch and held the bundle towards him and he said, “baby?” I said, “yes.” He very gently pulled back the blanket I had wrapped the “baby” in. He looked in, pointed to the baby’s head and said “hat” (the doll was wearing a cloth cap on her head). I said, “yes, Alex, baby has a hat on.” He looked again, pointed to the baby’s cheeks and said, “hot” (the baby doll had very pink, very rosy cheeks). I said, “yes, we need to keep the baby toasty and warm.” He looked some more, pointed to the doll’s blue-yarn hair and exclaimed, “boo hair”. To which I replied, “yes, she has blue hair, but our real baby will probably have yellow or brown hair.” He kept looking, gazing, gently touching the baby doll. So I then asked him what he wanted to name the baby doll. He looked back at me, thought about it a moment, and answered, “DUMP TRUCK!” After that, he never showed any interest whatsoever in the baby doll, no matter what I did. I’d ask if he’d like to help me bathe the baby, feed the baby, or cuddle the baby and he would reply with a firm, “NO! Want to dig dirt!” Alex, he’s all boy, isn’t he?

Now, you can't imagine that I let a new year start out without some random, odd event happening, can you? So here's that latest installment in my oddities collection: We were scheduled for our physicals for our adoption home study. I remember distinctly that it was scheduled for a Tuesday afternoon. Mine was at 1PM, and Pete's was at 3PM. However, on the Monday morning just prior, and upon arriving at work, I bent down in the parking lot to pick up our office's daily copy of the Wall Street Journal. When I did: SNAP! I don't know what happened, but it must have been something in the way I bent over, but I pinched a nerve in my back. Oh, the pain I was in that day. And I hated to go to the doctor, because I was scheduled to see him for my physical the very next day! So I just kind of suffered through with a heating pad and Advil that way, waiting anxiously to get to see the doctor on Tuesday.

Tuesday dawns and the babysitter lined up to watch Alex while Pete and I went for our physicals bailed on us. Last minute, too. So, since our appointments were back to back, we decide we have no choice but to take Alex with us and take turns watching and entertaining him. We figured that would not be too hard to do, since our doctor's office is near the hospital with the duck ponds close by.

Me first! I went in for my 1:00 with the doctor, and I get my physical and he writes me a RX for a pain reliever for my back. Now, this man had been my doctor for 12 years at that point in time, and he knew I was highly allergic to codeine. Also, he makes it a habit to ask his patients of any allergies before he writes any RX. I can't remember what the RX was for, but I'm sure it was something that did not contain codeine.

Next up: Pete. He goes in for his physical now that I'm through. Alex is getting antsy so I walk him out to the duck pond behind the doctor's office. Now, I like ducks. I really do. I've even had ducks as pets. A whole slew of them. Love ducks. But you gotta remember: Alex had just turned 2 at this point, and I was dealing with that insufferable back pain. So while I'm happy to have Alex occupied and enchanted with these ducks, he's getting pretty close to the pond as well, and that was making me nervous. That, and all the duck poop everywhere. The ducks must have been fed well the last few days, because the amount of duck poop all over the ground was staggering. And for those of you who've never seen duck poop, it's silver-green, slick and slimy. So here I am, nearly immobile with back pain, and trying to keep up with a two year old who is apparently on a mission to hunt down and pet every last duck out there. I start with the verbal barrage: "Alex, come back here. Alex, don't. Alex, stop. Alex, don't go near that water. Alex, get away from the water." On and on I go, tiptoeing carefully in, on and around this field of duck poop. Well, one particularly gargantuan mallard caught Alex's attention and off he went. He was bound and determined he was going to "get that duckie." So Alex charges after the duck, heading straight towards the pond, and despite my back pain, I take off after Alex. And next? You guessed it! I slip and fall and slide on my back and rear on all that duck poop! Straight towards the pond. I got caught up on a tree stump and settle there, Alex turned around and looking at me and saying, "Why you sitting down like that, Mommy?"

Oh, the pain, the smell, the humiliation...even if it was only in front of my two year old and a bunch of ducks. No one else was around, as far as I could see, with the exception of anyone looking out of the office windows nearby and seeing a middle aged woman covered in duck poop all over the back of her WHITE jacket.

I managed to get up and drag Alex, screaming and crying, back towards my doctor's office. Luckily, Pete's physical was over and he was headed towards the duck pond anyways looking for us. We go back into my doctor's office where I clean up as best as I could without changing clothes all together. I took off my jacket, which is where must of the duck poop was, and just stuffed it in a bag, probably unsalvageable. I went home, changed pants and socks and shoes, and prayed the odor of duck poop was not permanently embedded in my skin.

I then took off for the pharmacy to drop off my RX for the pain reliever for my back. I was in so much pain now, I decided to wait for the RX. They finally (40 minutes later) call my name and I pick up my RX, pay for it, and an headed out, already digging the bottle out of the bag. I notice the name of the drug on the RX, and while I can't remember now what exactly it was, it sounded close to codeine, which worried me. So I headed back to the pharmacy counter and started to inquire. Well, I had to wait so speak to the actual pharmacist. Another 20 minute wait. My back is now killing me....I'm in tears with the pain. I talk to the pharmacist. I explain my allergy to codeine, which should have been in my records there anyway, and even if not, they ask about allergies when you drop off any new RX. She explains to me that this is not actual codeine, it's just "sort of like" codeine. And it's not so much what she said, but how she said it, you know what I mean? In a very condescending, "you be a good girl now and just take your medicine" type of voice. Now I was crying and sniffling because of the back pain, all hunched over and everything, but for heaven's sake! I was 40 years old! I went on to explain my allergy to codeine and that I was worried that taking something "sort of like" codeine would have the same effect as codeine itself. She asked me to described my allergic reaction...did my throat close up....chest pains...couldn't breath...what exactly was my reaction? I told her exactly what happened the one and only time I ever took codeine: I had violent, gut-wrenching vomiting and a blinding headache. And I mean blinding literally, my vision was very dark and cloudy for a few hours, along with the projectile vomiting. And this....woman....(can you hear me gnashing my teeth?) then asked me, "was it really vomiting, or did it just upset your tummy a little bit?" And she rubbed her hand in a small circle on her own belly to illustrate, much like I have done with any of my boys when they've complained of a tummy ache. But: they're babies! Here I was, a grown woman, and this bee-yotch was treating me like a difficult school child, I guess because I had the gall to question her pharmaceutical judgment about medicine prescribed to me! You know what? You're damn right...anytime I have a question about a drug anyone wants to give me, I'm gonna have the audacity to ask about it if I think I might have a reaction! I was furious! I stormed out of there and was by then ready to jump off a cliff I was so tired and in so much pain.

I ended up calling my doctor's office and he prescribed me something else...which I had called in to someWHERE else. That turned out to one of the worst day of all that year. What a way to start 2007! And come to find out, when I went back to work and told everyone my sad, miserable tale, one of the women I work with is friends with that particular pharmacist! Small world!

So our new year was off to a start. Good or bad, call it what you will....just a month out of the box, and it’s already had it’s share of both good and bad news. But that’s life, right? That’s families, marriage, jobs, friendships, and just life. You gotta take the good with the bad, and everything in between. Turns out, LIFE was about to start happening to us, the good, the bad and the in between, in SPADES. Stay tuned.

EPISODE 5 It’s Terminal...

2009-01-20T07:06:00.000-08:00

....but not the way you think. This episode occurred while dating my current husband. So, while it was long after the end of my first marriage, long after the Vodka Collins era of my life, and after my crazy had ended, it still goes to show that I simply must be a magnet for oddities, even when they are not the result of alcohol, roommates, or exes.

It was Spring of some year back in the mid 90s. Pete had to fly down to our vacation island house and property on Union Island in the Grenadines. I can't remember why, and it was going to be only a short business trip. But I was disappointed that I couldn't go, and probably ticked off for some other reason that has long been lost to my memory.

I was driving him to the Orlando airport. We stopped for dinner somewhere. We got into an argument at dinner and it never really let up once we got back on the road for the airport, which made for a long, miserable trip...not one you want to make just before sending your boyfriend off on a jet plant for a long, Caribbean weekend. The fight was a bad one...I remember us even pulling over to the side of the road to argue several times....me threatening to get out of the car...etc., etc. Stupid stuff. With it being that bad, you'd think I could remember what the fight was about, but I cannot.

His flight did not leave until 7:00 the next morning, which meant he had to be at the airport for check-in at least 90 minutes before departure (5:30 am). So our plan was to spend the night in some decent little hotel somewhere, grab some sleep, and then I'd drop him off at the airport before heading home the next day. However, with our little fight, stopping for dinner, and our constant pulling over to argue on the way there, it was LATE when we got to Orlando, and we could not find a hotel room. At least, not one within reasonable driving distance from the airport, that did not charge $350.00 per night. We drove around checking different hotels for about an hour...it was now after midnight....we only needed the room until about 4:30 or 5:00 AM...there was no way in hell we were going to pay $350.00 for about 5 hours of sleep! It must have been spring break week, or there must have been a convention in town, but we just could not find a room except for the airport Hilton that, while convenient and would have allowed us to "sleep in" until about 5:15 AM, still with taxes and surcharges, would have cost us close to $400.00 to spend a few hours sleeping.

So we ended up parking in the short term parking garage at the airport and trying to sleep in the truck. 5 hours of sleeping in a truck. Not comfortable...especially when you're still ticked off and seething. We finally quit arguing, but were physically and emotionally drained. We bumped and hit the stick shift and the horn several times, trying to get comfortable and nap just a little bit. Security came over at one point to see what was going on. We didn't exactly fess up that we were trying to sleep there all night, so we just said that we have arrived at the airport for our morning flight WAAAAAY too early, and we going to just sit there and keep from roaming the terminal.

5:00 AM arrives and we get out of the truck. We head to the bathrooms to try to freshen up. Coming out of the bathroom, I find a Coke machine. I'm dying of thirst, so I get me a tall, cold bottle of Diet Coke. Not a can, and not a plastic bottle, but one of those tall, glass, "old-school" coke bottles. Pete goes to check in at the American Airlines counter, checks his bags, and we have a little time to kill before he has to board the plane. We walk around some, and are trying to not argue, but whatever the devil it was that had gotten into us the night before, came back again, and we started arguing again. Here we are, two grown adults, walking around the airport, arguing. Security kind of keeps an eye on us (and this was pre 9/11). We realize we're being given the fish eye, so we go into an empty alcove where the pay phones are to continue our "discussion" there. It's really just a long hallway, with a couple of drinking fountains, the row of pay phones, a tiled floor, and sounds echo loudly in there, we discovered. But we're whispering and are trying to keep our voices down and at one point, I reach with my glass Diet Coke bottle to put it in my very deep jacket pocket. I was tired of holding it, especially since when I argue, I like to use hand gestures a lot (wink). Apparently, my jacket pocket, while large enough, deep enough and wide enough to hold the bottle, was not where I thought it would be, because I tried to put the coke bottle in the pocket without really looking. Just sort of felt around for the pocket with my hand and when I thought I had found it, I dropped the coke bottle in....or so I thought.

I dropped the bottle straight on the tile floor. It sounded like a bomb going off! Miraculously, the bottle did not shatter or even crack. It landed standing straight up on the floor. But it being heavy glass, and then hitting that tile floor in the empty alcove, it sounded exactly like a bomb or a gun going off. And here it was: us! The fighters! The ones who had spent the night in the parking garage, and after a night of no sleep and arguing, we looked like hell!

To say security came running is putting it mildly. We were surrounded almost immediately with everyone except maybe the Department of Justice. Security, cops, airline personnel...you name it. It took quite a while for the excitement to die down...they wanted to make sure no one was hurt, no guns or bombs had gone off. And here I am, trying to explain that I had simply dropped my diet coke bottle. They were all a little skeptical at first...I mean, who wouldn't be? The bottle didn't break. I still had the bottle, but I was trying to tell them I had dropped it, and it had made the horrific, Earth-shattering sound, and not even a crack to the bottle itself? It was odd, even I have to admit that. And I don’t know if it being so early in the morning made things better or worse. Worse, perhaps, because so few people were around to absorb and muffle some of that sound when I dropped the bottle; better, perhaps, because there were fewer people to observe us in one of our many moments of shame.

So they do everything but give us a body cavity search. They check Pete's boarding pass to make sure he really is ticketed to fly out...they take down our info and want my truck tag number to make sure I leave when I say I will. Short of arresting us, I don't know what else they could have done to us. I was embarrassed, to say the least. All this fuss over dropping a coke bottle!

By the time they finally ensured the security of the MCO airport from the two wack jobs that were US, it was time for Pete to head to his boarding gate. So off we went. He sent his carry on bag through the X-ray machine and we said our good-byes. In spite of our fighting from the night before (and from a few moments earlier) I was going to miss the old fart, and so I started crying. Really, it was from pure emotion and exhaustion, but I cried nonetheless. So we stood there for a few moments, me crying, him consoling me, just holding each other, quietly and more calmly than we had since leaving for the airport the night before. He finally breaks away (run, Pete, run) and gets on that tube-tunnel-whatchamacallit that would deliver him to his boarding gate. So I stand there with silent tears and watch him leave, thinking back over the last few hours.

I sort of noticed out of the corner of my eye a family of about 7 or 8 all saying good-bye as well. They were Hispanic and everyone was talking at once. Some were grown ups, some were a little kids. A couple of them, like me, were crying, as well. It was a loud scene, all of them talking in Spanish, all talking at once, with a few wails from a couple of the kids thrown in to boot. But I really was more intent on my own thoughts at the moment. Until....

everyone but one of the Hispanic family members went through the boarding gate. Everyone except what must have been the husband/dad/grandpa. An older gentleman, at the very least. He was gushing the tears, huge, hiccupping sobs that went on and on. He could not seem to get ahold of himself. His family was gone now, through their own, tube-tunnel-whatchamacallit that would take them away from this sobbing older gentlemen left now standing beside me at the security gate. He was really upset. He was wailing, moaning, clutching a handkerchief, and began clutching his chest.

Yup, clutching his chest. A let out a sob, gasped, threw a hand over his heart and then turned towards me, began speaking to me in Spanish (which I know very little of) and sounded like he was pleading somehow, "Por favor, por favor" and then grabbed my arm and fell to the ground. I managed not to fall with him, but he was now lying at my feet, a glazed look on his face, sweating, can't breath, and good ol' me, standing there.

Somebody noticed this scene and for the third time in 6 hours, security was called and found me! I was just sort of standing there, with this man prone at my feet, and he kept clutching at my feet and legs and talking to me. I don't want to even think what the police must have thought of me by this point...you can imagine. The questions, the accusations, me trying to explain that I didn't do anything...I didn't even know this man, and I certainly didn’t shoot, assault or harm him in any way!

They quickly realized this man was having a heart attack, and EMS was called. They wouldn't let me go for a while. They had a few more questions to ask me. Finally, they believed that I had just happened to be the one lucky enough to be standing there when this complete stranger keels over of a heart attack at my feet. When I was finally allowed out of there, I beat it the hell out of there before I was accused of high jacking a plane next. Who knew what my next adventure would be. Never was I so glad to leave a place in my life. It had been one of the most surreal night of my life. And me, the most innocent thing you could ever imagine in your life (wink).

You can rest assured that when it was time to pick Pete up from the airport, it was worth the extra $50 to have him take the extra flight back to our regional airport. It was a long, long time before I set foot in the Orlando airport again. Can ya blame me?

EPISODE #4: (Another night of Vodka Collins, a/k/a S*#T happens)

2009-01-16T06:42:00.001-08:00

This is more my roommate’s story, but I was involved, and I haven’t seen the girl in ages, so I’m telling it!

It’s still the same roommate, and I was still married to the same guy. Like I said earlier, this was a crazy time in my life. I wanted out of the marriage, and was going back to relive my teen years that I had spent married and tied down, so a lot of wild things were going on in my life.

My room-y had a new boyfriend, after her split from her live-in. He was older, and, come to find out, married. And had no intentions of having my roommate as anything other than a little piece on the side.

We were in a bar a few nights later (oh, no, not again) and we’re hashing this over. “Hell hath no fury” and all that. The boyfriend had kind of a blase attitude about their relationship and didn’t think much at all about what he was doing to her. Just, “oh, well, S*#T happens.” So in our Vodka Collins induced commiserating, we kept dreaming up revenge scenarios. For instance, cut his gonads off and tell him, “oh, well, S*#T happens”. Or, slash his tires on his precious Ford Bronco and tell him, “oh, well, S*#T happens”. Or call his wife, tell of the affair and say, “oh, well, S*#T happens”. You know, stuff we wish we had the gall to do, but didn’t. Just the Vodka talking.

So we’re leaving the bar, not even late that night, and I wasn’t even really drunk. Just feeling good. Good in that “pissed off woman with a mission” sort of way. Sisterhood, revenge....we were feeling invincible. We walked out of the bar and take a short cut around the back. The bar was undergoing some renovations, apparently to the bathrooms, because sitting right there in front of us as we rounded by the back door was a toilet. Just appearing as if my magic out of nowhere. A used, discarded porcelin toilet bowl, sitting right by the dumpster. Kind of how my roommate felt: S*#Tty and used and discarded.

You can practically see the light bulbs going off in our heads. You guessed it: we hauled that toilet bowl home, in the trunk of the car, and got to work on it. We cleaned it up a bit, and then went to “Spencer’s” in the mall, where they had those bumper stickers from long ago, red bumper stickers with white lettering, spelling out “S*#T HAPPENS”.

Well, it sure did that night. We bought a bumper sticker, brought it home and slapped it on that toilet, and then in the dark, misty hours after 2AM, we hauled that thing to room-y’s boyfriend’s house, and left it in their driveway, right in front of the garage door, where either the boyfriend or his wife would be sure to find it when they came out for the paper the next morning.

We didn’t stick around to see the fireworks. We hauled butt home and celebrated with another Vodka Collins. The next morning brought the news that wife-y had not been too pleased with what the cheating husband had quickly explained must have been a prank by his hunting buddies. But no real damage occurred. And then a sobering thought: he let us know how close we had come to real trouble, because his house and property was wired for security with laser lights, or some kind of invisible lighting around the perimeter of his yard, and he does not know how we managed to pull off that stunt without triggering the silent alarm, and the police! GUH! That would have been, well, S#*TTY!

But: all’s well that ends well. Their relationship ended. She went on to meet a really nice, young, unmarried guy that was crazy about her. I don’t know what ever happened to that married man. Nor do I know what happened to that roommate....haven’t seen her in years. And when I look back on that prank, I get chills. I was really in a bad place at that time in my life. Crazy, drinking and partying too much, pulling stunts and pranks like that. Thank God I grew up and learned some valuable lessons without having anyone get hurt.

EPISODE #3: (I swear I’ll never drink like that again)

2009-01-12T07:14:00.001-08:00

Still married to the same guy....only he has a new job where he travels quite a bit. He’s gone for days and sometimes 2 or 3 weeks at a time. We were sort of unofficially using that time as a trial separation. My best girlfriend at the time had recently split from her live-in boyfriend, and so to help me with expenses, and to keep me company, she became my roommate.

Now, as I stated, I married very, very young. I was not even old enough to drink when I got married. So between that, and my brother’s life-altering and completely disabling accident the next year, I completely missed out on the whole teenage rebellion thing that most kids go through right at the end of and just out of high school. I saved my rebellion, hell-raising antics for the end of this marriage that was doomed from the start.

So one night room-y and I decided to throw back a few of our new favorite drink, a Vodka Collins or two (or three or 20) and then go bowling. Off to the bowling alley we went, where I became the rebel of the evening and had a few more drinks. We ran into my room-y’s new boyfriend, and the party started from there. I’ll just cut to the chase now and tell you that I got drunk. Plastered, snockered, S**T-faced, bombed, call it what you will....I was Drunk!

So there’s a group of us all hanging out, and various people fade in and fade out of the group over the course of the night. At one point while a bunch of all are all just shooting the breeze, some guy sticks his hand out to me, and says, “by the way, Hello, I’m [...blah, blah, blah....whatever his name was.” Trying to hold my act together and not appear as bombed as I was, I stick my hand back out to him and say, “Nice to meet you, my name is......mmmmmm....is.....my name is.......oh wait, I knew it a minute ago.” Believe it or not, I was so drunk, I DID NOT KNOW MY OWN NAME! My roommate and her boyfriend had wandered off to make out somewhere, and the particular individuals around at that point were all new to me. So I had no one to ask what my name was. CRAP! Well, so much for first impressions. The poor guy...well, to be honest, I was drunk, and reeling, so I can’t even tell you what his reaction was, or what he did or said after the humiliating revelation that I DON’T EVEN KNOW MY OWN NAME! I do remember taking off trying to find room-y so I could find out my name. And then I remember being in the restroom with her, and her trying to get me to get my act together.

Next thing I remember was leaving the ladies’ room and going back out into the bowling alley. Our little gang was at one end of the bowling alley. WAAAAAAAY over at the complete opposite end of the bowling alley I spotted a kid I had gone to high school with. I had been a senior when he was a freshman. We had been in some class together...I’m guessing it was a science class, because I was horrible at science all the way through high school, and it’s not a stretch to imagine that I was still trying to master Freshman Biology while a senior in high school. Now, I’m still around 21, 22 years old at the time this story took place, so I’m guessing this kid was now a senior, or maybe just had graduated the year before. But this one young man in particular was etched in my memory, and the more I think about it, the more I believe it must have been a science class we were in together, because the particular thing I remember about this fella was that he had three nipples! And I knew this because he shared that information with the class. He had a large, dark skin tag on his chest that looked exactly like a third nipple, and even showed it to us. I remembered that very distinctly.

So....here I was....stumbling out of the ladies room, after embarrassing myself by being so drunk I did not even know my own name, and a unique name it is to remember, right? I was so bleary I could barely see straight, I was tripping and fumbling around, I must have looked like the Exorcist and smelled like a brewery, and did not know who I was, who I was with, or how I got there. BUT! I aimed my bleary gaze all the way across the bowling alley and sure as shootin’, I recognized that third nipple guy, from yards and yards and yards away, and 3 or more years ago! And I made no hesitation to start hollering for him, from all the way across the bowling alley: “Hey! You! You there! You! Three nipple guy, I know you! You! Remember me? From class? You, there you, guy with 3 nipples! Remember me? Hi, how are you....how’ve you been? Still got those 3 nipples? Those nipples doing OK?” I mean, no one could shut me up. My friends were trying to hold me back and stop me from staggering over there and making even more of an ass out of myself. So I managed to hop up on the row of chairs nearby and began waving my arms around and continued my screaming for the guy with 3 nipples.

Good grief. Someone should have just clubbed me on the spot.

My room-y finally decided we’d better call it a night, so she dragged me out to my car. She flung me into the passenger’s seat and left me there, passed out, so she could go back in and say goodbye to our friends and make sure neither of us had left anything behind (like a warrant for my arrest, maybe, or an alcohol rehab admission form, possibly)? While she was gone, I decided she had left me there to rot in my own drunken rotten-ness while she went back inside for some more tonsil hockey with her boyfriend, so I decided to go after her. I got as far as getting the passenger door open, when I promptly fell out and hit the pavement, and fell fast asleep.

Thankfully, room-y did not take too long to return to my car, and found me. She had to go back in, though, to get her boyfriend to come out and help her get me picked up and loaded back into the car. We finally made it home where room-y managed to get my shoes off and dump me into my bed. She stayed up watching TV in the living room for a while. My husband, who had been at a concert that night in Jacksonville, came home around 2 or 3 in the morning. Room-y had fallen asleep watching TV, and upon hearing his car pull up and the door slam, woke up. She heard him come in and he came to chat with her a bit, assuming that I was in bed. What he did not assume was that noise, that high-pitched, ridiculous sounding, sing-songy noise he heard was his wife. Well, room-y did. And she did knew I was brewing up some trouble. She did everything but try to seduce my husband in order to keep him from going into our bedroom and finding me dead drunk. Which is exactly what he did. He came in to find me buck naked except for my socks, bra and underwear, and I was tip-toeing around the edge of our water bed, drunk and singing to myself. And what do you think happened when he asked me what the hell I was doing? I asked him, “Who the hell are you?” Yup, still pretty drunk...not sure at that point if I knew my own name, but my amnesia at that instant was real....alcohol induced, but real....I did not know who he was. My own husband, of 4 or 5 years at point, and I didn’t know his name. My own name, a unique one at that which had been the only name I had ever gone by for 22 years at that point....couldn't remember that either. But a ramdon, 3-nippled classmate, whom I barely knew from high school 4 years ago? Not a problem. Knew him like a brother.

P.S. I’ve never drank like that ever again.

EPISODE #2: (One really stupid way to try to leave your lover [or husband])

2009-01-08T13:36:00.001-08:00

After returning from the Atlanta area to our hometown to live, the marriage to my first husband began to fall apart. It was really going from bad to worse over time, and I wanted it to work, but I seemed to be the only one working it. He wanted to remain married, but he did not appear to want to put in any effort towards making the marriage work, much less flourish. He was content to stay married, and stay miserable. I hated the idea of divorce, but I also hated the idea of living with him as the marriage was at that time.

Now, I think I’ve mentioned before, and maybe you’ve picked up from prior posts, that I am a bit of a drama queen. So it should come as no surprise what I tried to do. I had recently watched a Lifetime network movie where someone had amnesia. It was interesting, and I’ve always been fascinated by the workings and intricacies of the human mind. So this movie was running around in my head for a few days when I went to pick up my husband after work one evening (we only had one car at the time). I was a little late picking him up and he was royally PO’d. Royally. I show up and he’s got his A-hole attitude ON! We get in an argument and he refuses to get in the car with me, so I take off. I was about a quarter of a mile away, even less than that, when on of my tires has a blow out. BAM! I hit a tree and wreck the car! Hubby saw the whole thing happen. I hit my head and face on the steering wheel when the accident happened and was kinda hurt, but not badly, as I was in a mall parking lot, and wasn't going very fast at all. I got out of the car and saw hubby running towards me, and even from a distance, I could see he was more mad than worried about how I was. So I thought to myself, “jeez, what a jerk! I wish I’d never met him.” And then: Bingo! An idea popped into my head. I decided to have amnesia, just like that movie I’d watched a few nights earlier.

So hubby jogs up to me, and I am dazed and disoriented and confused. He asks if I’m alright. I ask, “What happened?” He tells me he doesn’t know, he just saw me run the car into that tree over there, and why the hell did I do that? What the hell was I thinking? What kind of idiot am I? And on and on and on. I was getting PO’d at him for his ‘tude, but I had to remain quick on my feet and not blow my chance here. So I just kept up the confused act, and then began throwing in, “who are you?” At first he didn’t buy it. But the more I played it out, the more he began to get worried that I really did not know who he was. He was torn between being mad at me for wrecking the car, and being worried about my apparent amnesia.

The mall security showed up, and they called the police. The police showed up, and I just kept up my charade. I had everyone going. The police were very concerned about me. They were trying to point out to my husband that from the angle of the car hitting the tree, the blown out tire was not caused BY the wreck; rather, it was a tire blow out that must have caused me to lose control of the car and therefore, hit the tree and wreck the car. But he was still angry, not entirely convinced that the wreck was not caused by my angrily driving off and leaving him standing there. So he was still pacing around, muttering and ticked off, and between that, and my act of who am I....what happened....can someone take me home...no, I don’t know who he is and I don’t want to go home with this angry man, the police would not let my husband take me home, which made him even angrier. I was not bleeding or in any real pain, and I was refusing medical treatment, even just a quick once-over by the EMTs.

So hubby finally had the bright idea of calling my parents, both of whom are RNs. They arrived, full of parental concern of course, and once I began thinking about it, and realizing I had to go somewhere, if I wasn’t going to go home with my husband, I “remembered” my parents. So I got in the car with them. Not only are my parents RNs, but you just can’t bull shit a bull shitter. I was upset and adamant about not needing to go to the hospital, insisting that I just wanted to go home with them. I was hoping they would just take me to their house for some chicken soup and TLC. WRONG! They started mumbling in the front seat about taking me to the hospital..and I remember this....they SPELLED OUT the word hospital....H.O.S.P.I.T.A.L. I was mad that they wouldn’t go along with my wishes (my charade), so I just hollered out from the back seat, “I have amnesia...I’m not illiterate!”

My game quickly deteriorated from there....especially with my momma. She just kept (rightfully) insisting that I needed to be checked out, just a quick once-over, and I knew that the hospital would find nothing wrong with my brain to account for my amnesia, other than youthful stupidity. And the one thing you don’t want to do, is piss off my momma. So I quickly had a series of flashbacks, crying and exclaiming, “oh, I remember, I remember...it’s all coming back to me, I remember”.

Well, Mom and Dad knew better, and hubby really did, too. He just didn’t want to admit he’d been duped even just a little bit. This was really the beginning of them realizing that my marriage was not working out. I stayed with them that night, and went back to my home with my hubby the next day....and we kept plugging away at the marriage a while longer. It was really a crappy thing to do on my part, I can admit that now. But at the time, I was only 21...old enough to know better, yes, I know....but it does make for some interesting blogging now, doesn’t it?

Episode 1: Personal Drawers

2009-01-05T07:43:00.000-08:00

Before I began my journey into 2007, because it was such an eventful year, I thought I’d reflect back on some tidbits of my long ago past. You know: back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth (well, more accurately, when I was married to my first husband, and the marriage was coming apart). It was a crazy time in my life...I had married young (while still in high school and to answer the unasked question: NO, we were not pregnant, just young and stupid and...gag....in love).

EPISODE #1:
(A Personal Drawer Means Just That)

We were living in the metro Atlanta area and I was working for an attorney whom shall remain nameless. He was young, only about 26 or 27 at the time, and had taken over his father’s law practice. He was also newly married to THE MOST proper Southern Belle you can imagine. She was so polite and correct and sugary sweet it made my teeth hurt just talking to her. And he was just as exacting and PC and precise and “by the book” as she was. I mean, you look up “Mr. And Mrs. Perfect America” in the dictionary, you see their pictures.

So, it came as quite a shock one day when I found what I found in his office. Now, I am not a snooper, so I was not mucking around anywhere I should not have been. He was in state court one day, and called me in a panic from there because he was missing an important item from the file of the case he was in court about. I looked here, I looked there, I checked files and offices, and his exact words to me were, “tear up the carpet if you have to, but FIND THAT [...item]”! So I went back to his office, as he remembered distinctly reviewing this document the night before while sitting at his desk. I started rummaging once again through his various desk drawers and started emptying them one by one, looking frantically for this document. From this one particular drawer, that appeared to be a “personal” drawer (i.e., cough drops, kleenex, tooth brush, sinus medication, inhaler, etc. among the items in the front part of the drawer) I kept looking deeper and further back in the drawer.

WHOA, HOA! OMG! Was this EVER a “personal drawer”. The first thing I found was a receipt for a post office box rental in another town, and it was not the town in which he lived. Now, that in and of itself was not so shocking. But, he had a PO box for the office, and I knew his home took mail delivery, so at first I kind of wondered what he needed another PO box for, especially in a town about 20 miles west. But...whatever. So I kept looking for this particular item he needed for court.

Hello! I found copies of order forms from what must have been what I’ll call here “men’s magazines” where he had ordered....um....let’s just say....personal pleasure items....all for delivery to this post office box in that next town over. OK, I’ll spill it...he ordered a blow up “companion” doll, cuffs, whips, chains, and ...um...particular items that...let’s just say that they resemble and are supposed to function the same as a particular part of the male anatomy. EeeeeeeeWwwwwwww!

OK, now I have worked for lawyers my whole life. My brother is a lawyer, and some of my dearest friends are lawyers. And I know how they save EVERY scrap of paper, EVER, EVER, and ALWAYS. But to save copies of the entire pages of the order forms where he ordered his kinky toys? Picture it: he filled out the order form WITH HIS OWN, REAL NAME, with the PO box rental as the address, and instead of just photocopying the order form part at the bottom corner of the page, he copied the whole, entire pag, pictures and all. I assume this was so he'd know and have a picture of exactly what it was he was ordering. I did not find the toys themselves, nor did I find the magazines which these order forms came out of.

All of which leads me to believe two things: 1) this stuff, and the magazines from which he ordered them, were not going to his home, or being enjoyed in the company of his lovely young wife; and 2) he must have a room, an apartment, something, somewhere where he was keeping these items.

Another interesting thing to note: this was back in the day before cell phones, so if he had a little “sumpin, sumpin” going on on the side, she certainly wasn’t calling him at the office during the day. Cause I answered the phones all day from 8 to 5, and never once did I answer a call that even remotely sounded suspicious. And if he’s cautious enough to have “her” (if indeed there was an ongoing “her) never call the office during working hours, then why leave all these receipts and order form copies, photocopies no less, straight from the magazines, in his office drawer?

So anyways.....draw your own conclusions, as I did. Actually, I did not want to think about it that much, but I just could not help myself. It was the proverbial train wreck that you can’t help yourself from rubbernecking to see. It haunted me for days and weeks. I could not go into his office for months afterward without feeling awkward.

After my discovery, I just put everything back where it belonged and kept looking for the item that had been the purpose of this mission in the first place. Turns out, boss man had it in his possession all along. He’d simply looked over it the first time he searched his briefcase. From that day forward, I always made sure he had EVERYTHING EVER he could possibly need, when he left the office to go to court. Do you blame me?

Alex's 2nd Birthday

2008-12-22T07:36:00.000-08:00

With Christmas 2006 over, it was only a two day respite until the next big event: Alex’s 2nd birthday. The actual day of his birthday was a work day for me, and I struggled with what to do for his birthday for weeks. I wanted his second birthday party to be very special. He was too little for a skating party, too young for an arcade party, my house was a wreck after Christmas just days earlier, and I didn’t have the time or energy to clean up for a big party at home, and I’m too cheap to rent out O2B Kids for the day, so I was unsure what to plan.

I decided to make it a day at the park, in spite of the weatherman’s week-long prediction for cold and rain. And a good call it was, because the day turned out to be perfect: cool, but not cold....not cloudy, and not hot. Just a beautiful, breezy, mild winter day.

I had ordered his cake a few days before; rather, I had sent hubby/daddy to the bakery to order the cake. I wanted a “Bob the Builder” cake for Alex, to represent his new and passionate devotion to all things construction equipment. Over the last few months, he became fascinated (hog wild, in other words) with dump trucks, bull dozers, back hoes, bobcats, road graters, crane trucks, front end loaders, you name it. If it moved, and better yet, came in contact with DIRT, then he was crazy for it. So a lot of his Christmas presents just days before were “Bob the Builder” videos and toys.

So off Pete goes to the bakery and orders the cake. We assume it’s a done deal. The morning of the party, Alex comes with me to the park to set up for the party, and hubby goes to pick up the pizza we’re serving for lunch, and the ice cream and birthday cake for dessert. He gets to the bakery and gives our name. The following is what took place:

Bakery employee: Um, did you place that order, sir?
Pete: Yes, I did, about 4 days ago.

BE: Could it have been under any other name?

Pete: No....try maybe our first names....Pete? Jamaica? Alex?

BE: Sir, I just don’t find your order in the book.

Pete: Well, how about just getting me the cake. It’s the “Bob the Builder” cake.

BE: (after looking) Sir, we don’t have a “Bob the Builder” cake today.

Pete: What do you mean, you don’t have one? I ordered it. Four days ago.

BE: Sir, I apologize, I just don’t know what to tell you. We don’t have a “Bob the Builder” cake for pick up today, or any order under your name. Are you sure you placed the order here with us?

Pete: Yes, of course, I’m sure. I told you, four days ago.

BE: Well, did you place it over the phone?

Pete: No, I came in and ordered it.

BE: Who did you talk to?

Pete: Well, I don’t know her name, but it was a woman, and she told me it was she herself that would be decorating the cake.

BE: Well, I can’t explain what happened, but it appears she simply did not write down the order, and did not decorate the cake.

Pete: Please tell me you are kidding.

BE: No, sir, I’m not.

Pete: But my son’s party starts in half an hour!

BE: I’m very sorry sir.

Pete: Sorry doesn’t help.....do you know my wife? What am I going to do?

BE: Well, we have plenty of cakes to choose from.

Pete: But, you have no “Bob the Builder” cakes.

BE: Well, we have a nice Elmo cake here.

Pete: Alex doesn’t care about Elmo!

BE: Well, how about a dinosaur cake?

Pete: Alex isn’t into dinosaurs! I need that birthday cake!

BE: Well, does it have to be a “Bob the Builder” cake?

Pete: Do you know my wife? She wants a “Bob the Builder” cake for our son, she sent me four days ago for a “Bob the Builder” cake, and THE EARTH WILL OPEN UP AND SWALLOW ME WHOLE, THE SKIES WILL RAIN FIRE, OCEANS WILL FLOOD ALL THE LAND, AND SHE’LL PROBABLY KICK ME IN THE NUTS if I don’t show up with a “Bob the Builder” cake for our son’s birthday party that starts in 20 minutes!

BE: Sir, I’m sorry.

Pete: Can’t you make me a “Bob the Builder” cake, like, right now?

BE: Sir, there is only one cake decorator in this bakery, and she’s not in today...she called in sick.

Pete: Can’t you make it.....please?

BE: I don’t know how...it’s a pretty precise talent, which I don’t have. I can bake you some nice loaves of bread if you want some?

Pete: Bread? Are you nuts? Did I mention what my wife is going to do with my nuts if I don’t show up with the cake she wanted for our son’s birthday party? I spent a week in the hospital the day after my son’s birthday last year, and I don’t want to do it again this year. Please, you gotta do something!

BE: OK...let me see. Your son likes building things, I take it.

Pete: Yes.

BE: OK, how about we do this? Go to the toy aisle and get me 4 small Matchbox trucks....whatever you think your son would like.

Pete: OK.

Pete returned about 15 minutes later, and this bakery employee, who was an awkward, scared, very young kid in fact, was getting increasingly nervous as the conversation went on, ended up saving the day, as well as Pete’s nuts. He took a chocolate cake, mounded some more chocolate frosting on top to make it look like a big pile of dirt, added some thin, wispy chocolate shavings on the top of that, and then placed the 4, tiny, toy-sized bulldozers Pete had found in the toy aisle on each of the four corners of the cake, and had written “Happy Birthday, ALEX” in the middle with red icing. TAA-DAA!

So hubby arrives, albeit about 20 minutes late for the party, with pizza, cake and ice cream. He hurriedly tells me what happened and waits to see my reaction. Now, I admit I can be a tad exacting and precise (OK, anal-retentive, Type-A, OCD, you name it), but I don’t really think I would have actually kicked him in the nuts (at least, not in front of witnesses, geesh). The cake was fine, and even more of a hit because of the story behind it.

The whole party turned out to be a wonderful success. Lots of family came, lots of friends with little kids, someone brought their gentle, sweet dog. The kids played for about an hour on the playground, exhausting themselves. Then it was time for pizza and soda and chips. Then on to the masterpiece: the cake! Alex had a great time, the weather cooperated, the food and cake was great, the love shown to my firstborn was overwhelming. The kids all went home partied and played out, which made for a nice afternoon for all the parents who came: long naps!

And many, many thanks to the bakery employee who handled a very tough, potentially disasterous situation with great finesse and caring and quick thinking.

What a great day, and a great end to the year 2006. We kept it quiet on New Year’s Eve, as we almost always do. So we caught a breather before 2007 began....and what a year it would turn out to be!

Christmas 2006

2008-12-16T06:12:00.001-08:00

Christmas 2006

Well, Thanksgiving came and went, with much drama, as always, and we were now looking forward to Alex’s 2nd Christmas. We began our month-long celebration with our annual family holiday trip to St. Augustine. Pete and I began going to St. Augustine one weekend every December years and years ago. I remember one Christmas in particular, before we were married, when had dinner at the Columbia Restaurant in the historic district. We sat there for hours, holding hands across the table, taking our time with our 5-course, gourmet meal, looking at each other over candlelight and Christmas lights, and took turns singing our favorite Christmas songs to each other. We actually had people stop and listen to us....some even commented on our obvious joy in the season, and our caring and devotion to each other. It was a wonderful night, full of love and joy and magic.

Yeah, a few years, a few kids, a mortgage, full time job, taxes, insurance and the price of gas later, just makes ya wanna barf up a lung or two, huh?

JUST KIDDING! HAHAHA, LOL, JUST KIDDING, JUST KIDDING, JUST KIDDING!

But it was nice....an evening like that now would still be special, but rare, indeed, because now our meals are spent trying to keep our kids’ butts in their chairs, feet off the table, and fingers out of their noses. And that's just when they're being good.

So the new tradition is to take the kid. And we did, and it was (and remains) a new kind of special and magic. We saw Santa Claus, shopped, ate, watched the holiday boat regatta from the Fort...it was a cold night, but worth the bundling up to see and do everything.

The following weekend was our annual adoption support group holiday party, where Pete plays Santa Claus each year. This year it was held at the home of our friends Dawn and David and their 4-year-old son, Ryan, where they had recently added a swimming pool, so their back yard was filled with hills and mounds and Alex’s new favorite thing: DIRT! Tons and tons and tons of DIRT! Alex was as happy as a pig in slop; for the first time ever in his short, two-year life, when he saw all that dirt and all those toy diggers and dozers and dump trucks and backhoes, he dropped our hands and ran away from us, not looking back even once. That’s a hard moment for a new parent. He was so excited, though, and having so much fun, it was hard to not be excited for him.

After leaving that party, we joined Pete’s sister and her family at the Festival of Lights in Silver Springs. Contrary to our cold night in St. Augustine, Ocala was hot, hot, hot that night. It seemed a little odd to be enjoying Christmas lights, including snowscape displays, while sweating, but other than that, we all had a great time. They had a boat regatta there, too, and Alex was more fascinated by the police boats than by the decorated boats. Good thing the police were there, too, because two of the boats crashed into each other.

Alex finally began to catch on to this whole Santa thing. We’d ask him who is coming to visit this month; his reply, “Saaa...uh.” What does Santa say, Alex; “ho, ho, ho”. Our next question: what does Santa bring? His answer: “pies” for surprise. He finally began to recognize Santa on display at the grocery store, pharmacy or Target, and it thrilled him (us, too)!

On the morning of Christmas eve, we went to breakfast at the Gateway Grand buffet with my parents, brother and Aunt Chris, and Bob and Jean. High up around the perimeter of the room ran a huge toy train set, so Alex sat gape-mouthed the whole time, spellbound by the huge train. That evening was spent at the wonderful children’s Christmas eve service at our church. At one point during the service, all the toddler and pre-school children were asked to come forward for a scripture reading with the director of children’s ministries at the front of the church. So Alex goes up there, along with about 100 other little ones, where some older school age children performed a re-enactment of the birth of Christ, complete with a manger scene, shepard and sheepdogs. As the sheepdogs are being led down the aisle towards the pulpit, Alex sees the dogs, stands up in the middle of the service, points and screams out, “Look! Dog! It’s Ro-ro!” (Alex’s nickname for my dad’s dog, Rose). Right during the scripture reading, at the pulpit of the church, in front of ministers, other kids, families, and about 900 other people there for the service, Alex does his thing. The Virgin Mary, Joseph, the Three Wise Men, Baby Jesus, and Alex, screaming “Ro-ro” over and over again. He was beside himself, and it was a priceless moment.

And the Alex moments did not end there: at the end of the service, the senior minister is dismissing is with a prayer and Alex, back in his seat with us by now, is jumpy, jittery and bouncing all over the place, being an almost two year old, in other words. I tried to get him to be still and quiet for the prayer, even if he was too little to really understand. I just wanted him to be still and quiet. I tried to get him to bow his head and fold his hands, but it was hard. But I was working it, and finally the minister says, “Amen”, and Alex sees me lift my head up and sees everyone else doing the same, and the room is quiet for the split second after the “Amen”, and Alex yells out, in his own Alex way, “All done?” Just like he says when he’s through with anything: his dinner, his bubble bath, changing his diaper. Really, really loud: “All done?” Needless to say, our new family tradition after saying any prayer is to include: “All done”!

After church, we headed out to my SIL Gloria’s house for our family Christmas Eve gathering. Alex had a blast with his cousin Tyler, who is only 6 months older than he. His cousin Dominique, who was 10 at the time, was completely enchanted with Alex, and kept playing and dancing with him all night. And, of course, Sandy was the same way. Sandy is Pete’s niece and she thinks Alex is “her baby”, so it was quite the competition between Sandy and Dominique that night over who gets to be with Alex. That night also included a very special treat: Dominique gave her own Christmas concert that evening by singing “Silent Night”, “Jingle Bells” and “We Wish You A Merry Christmas”. No one in the family has ever sang publicly before, and I was impressed. At 10 years old, I was far too shy and awkward to have done anything like that, especially in front of such a large crowd as that family. It was a wonderful moment to share.

Christmas Day the next morning was kind of quiet compared to the night before with 40 people there. Just the three of us that morning. Alex even slept late that morning, and when he finally did get up and went in to see the tree and all the presents, all he could say was “WOW”! Over and over again: “WOW”! We spent a quiet morning together, playing with Alex and his toys, and then went over to my parents’ house for more presents, and then came back to my house for our pot roast Christmas Day dinner. It even turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself!

It was a great holiday! I felt so blessed, I was so blessed. Family, friends, fun....it had been a great Christmas, one I would always remember as one of the best. As Alex says, "All done!"

Thanksgiving & craft show 2006 - Aunt Boo boo is born!

2008-12-12T06:26:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving 2006 was a great success! A huge crowd that year: the usual suspects, of course: us, Adrian and Aaron, Jessica and Rick, Gloria and Sandy, Mom and Dad and Mark, Ashley and Jared, and this year, Aunt Chris joined us, as she had just moved here from Cocoa back in July. So we had the pleasure of her company, as well as “Uncle Bob” and “Aunt Jean’s” as well. And our extra special guests this year were Uncle Albert and Aunt Nell (who had just been declared, after 15 months of surgeries and chemotherapy, to be breast-cancer free)! We had so very much to celebrate!

No missing food this year: everything AND THEN SOME made it to the table. The turkey, a ham (courtesy of Bob and Jean), dumplings and corn casserole (from my momma), rolls and oyster dressing (made by my SIL, Gloria), stuffing, green bean casserole, macaroni (Adrian’s specialty), carrots, and my specialties: the cranberry sauce, sweet potato and marshmallow casserole, cranberry meatballs, sugar coated pecans, and for dessert, my homemade, from scratch, cranberry bread, and white-chocolate and cranberry cookies, as well as a chocolate cake from Bob and Jean, and my momma’s offerings: the pies! Pumpkin, mincemeat, apple and chocolate-peanut butter!

And celebrate we did....and it’s a good thing we did, because another uh-oh was right around the corner. My poor Aunt Chris. One of our loosely held family traditions in recent years has been my mother’s participation in the local holiday craft fair that takes place every Thanksgiving weekend at the O Dome. Well, this year was going to be a big one, with Aunt Chris, Uncle Bob and Aunt Jean, and Uncle Albert and Aunt Nell, all contributing to a combined booth at the craft fair. They had worked so hard for so long, and everyone was so looking forward to the whole weekend. Even Aunt Nell, having spent the last 15 months recovering from cancer, spent many hours doing her crafts while taking her IV chemotherapy! What a trooper she is!
So on Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, after a wonderful day spent shopping and getting into the holiday spirit, we’re back home and enjoying the evening with Uncle Albert and Aunt Nell....and even a surprise visit from my wonderful friend D from North Carolina, while Mom and Aunt Chris and Uncle Bob and Aunt Jean are all at the coliseum setting up for the craft show to start the next day. It’s a lovely evening, until we get a phone call that Aunt Chris tripped over a bunch of electrical wires and cables left lying on the floor at the coliseum (no warning or danger sign nearby, mind you), fell flat on her face, and broke her nose! Aunt Chris does not cuss, but the first words out of her mouth were “Oh, S**T!” Mom took her to the emergency room, where she spent hours waiting to be seen, of course....but the real kicker to the story is that the coliseum did not have a first aid booth or a medical emergency kit nearby....and they were not very quick to call an ambulance, and my mother ended up having to clean the blood left on the floor so no one slipped and fell in that! You would think they’d be very anxious to follow up and take care of someone that their negligence had caused harm to!

Well, Aunt Chris was finally examined, had her nose taped up, was dosed with some lovely drugs for the pain, and was sent on her merry way home that night by the ER personnel. She ended up having surgery several months later, after all the internal swelling had gone down. However, a few days after the fall, while she was still at home recovering and healing, still taped up and very, very bruised, hubby took Alex over for a quick visit and to check on her. He explained to Alex that Aunt Chris had fallen and gotten a very bad boo-boo, wanting to prepare him for seeing her all bruised and bandaged. When Alex saw Aunt Chris, he was scared and concerned, pointing to her face and exclaiming, “Booboo!” Hence, Aunt Boo-boo is born! That name still sticks to this day.

Aunt Chris was in pain and discomfort for a long time afterward, and needless to say she never did make it to the craft show that weekend. Luckily, we have a big enough family that there plenty of people to cover the booth at the show, and plenty of people to attend to Aunt Chris at home that weekend.

So Thanksgiving of 2006 had it’s share of drama, yes? Lots of family, lots of friends, tons of food, lots of activity, a few cuss words thrown in, a surprise guest from out of town, a trip to the ER....yup, sounds just about right for my gang! Gobble, gobble!

Halloween 2006

2008-12-05T06:53:00.000-08:00

So my last entry was all about my various medical, physical, and bodily predicaments since turning 40. I don’t know if this one has anything to do with turning 40 as well, but it was no less mortifying and painful.

It started just as my nightshades episode was drawing to a close. (And for those of you who haven’t figured it out yet, I have no shame. I tell all secrets: well, my secrets. Yours are safe with me. I have lived a life so very rich in bizarre-ness and oddities, and I feel it is my duty to share it with others. Why should I be the only one scratching my head and saying, “Do these things really happen in real life?”) Therefore, I tell the story, just like it is.

While shaving my legs (yes, hubby, I do shave them once in a while) one day around October of 2006, I noticed a little bump, high up on my leg and kind of on the inside of my thigh. Looked like a pimple. Maybe a hair bump. Huh. Let’s shave over it and see what happens.

Fast forward a few days. My leg is now red and hurting and I’m thinking that that hair bump must have been sprouting out one wicked weave! It hurt! Actually, it turned out not to be a hair bump, or, if it was, it got infected. Yuck....but nothing earthshattering.

A few more days go by, and it heals with the help of some ointment. Then, I notice that my right leg is burning. Now, ya’ll know me and hot flashes....we don’t get along. But this was different than a hot flash...for one thing, it was not above the waist, which is where most of my hot flashes occur. This one was sort of in my groin area, way up high on the inside and the top of my right leg, and I thought, well, maybe this was a new variety of hot flash I was having.

Another day goes by and it starts itching. Now, to completely tell the story, you need to know that I was just coming off my “time of the month” and I was wearing panty liners. I did a little investigating and thought to myself that by gum, I must have been wearing these dern panty liners upside down in my panties...you know, with the adhesive side sticking up! Coz I sure was burning and itching down there, high up on the inside of my right thigh! Right at where the elastic in the panty leg opening touches the leg, where the leg becomes the groin, it was burning red and hot to the touch. What on earth do they put in the adhesive on those panty liners anyway, SuperGlue?

I mentioned it to my mom, and she thought I had hives. So I started taking Clortrimeton for hives. A few hours go by and I knew it wasn’t hives....I didn’t know what it was, but I was now in PAIN! EXCRUCIATING PAIN! I went to my doctor that same day and he advised me I had a staph infection. Now, a staph infection was what killed my step-daughter in 2004, and that freaked me OUT! STAPH! Oh, dear Lord, I survived hot flashes, allergies, weight gain and Lupus (well, not really, but I am a certified hypochondriac) only to die right here of a staph infection on my pantyline! My poor husband, he loses a daughter and now a wife to a staph infection! The horror! The agony! The misery!

The doctor, who should have slapped me across my face, but instead just gave me a cold cloth and told me to calm down, took immediate action and lanced that bad boy right then and there! Oh, the relief, the release, right there....I felt better immediately.

The doctor drained that nasty thing and sent me home with ointments, antibiotics, gauze bandages to cover my upper-thigh-panty-line-staph-infection, and instructions for my husband to use those long handled Q-tips to dig around in the wound and get out all “that junk” (his words exactly) every night. And come back in 10 days.

So, I ended up walking around for 10 days like I had a corn cob up my butt. And the questions: Oh, dear Lord, the questions I endured, at church, at the office, at the grocery store, anywhere out in public: “oh, dear, do you have a sprained ankle?” Or, “did you hurt your back?” Um, yes, sure, that’s it! Well, folks, I wasn't about to describe to co-workers, fellow worshipers or strangers what was REALLY wrong with me. Just you, Internet! You get to hear everything!

Well, I go back 10 days later...and I’m all better. Now, if I were anyone but MYSELF, the story would have ended here, because isn’t the story thus far full of enough embarrassment and misery? Yes, it is. Alas, however, I am not lucky enough to simply have one horrific upper-thigh-panty-line-staph-infection and be done with it.

Oh, no...not me. I got another one...but this time: straight on my ASS! Yes, right smack-dab in the middle of my right butt cheek! A boil, if you will. A boil on my ass. Is there no worse humiliation?

My doctor was out of town for a few days, and our annual Halloween party was just a couple of days away. So I went to one of those “doc-in-a-box” urgent care centers. I had a fever and excruciating pain and a boil on my ass. So, another display of fine craftsmanship was worked out on my posterior, and the damn boil went so deep, they HAD TO PUT A STINT IN MY ASS CHEEK to drain all the infection out. Again, I was sent home with ointments, antibiotics, gauze bandages to cover my ASS-CHEEK-staph-infection, and instructions for my husband to use those long handled Q-tips to dig around in the wound some more, because he had so much fun the first time around.

So, it’s the day of the Halloween party. I’m still a bit feverish and I am extremely tired, because I CAN’T SIT DOWN, AT ALL, PROBABLY EVER AGAIN, due to the drain stint in my ass cheek. I can lay down, on my stomach, but it turned out to be a little difficult to get ready for a Halloween party for 20 guests while laying down on my stomach. So I had been walking around, upright, for about 10 hours straight.

One of our first guests was my stepdaughter and grandson. Now, I love the boy, I really do, and I can’t fault him for this. But I wanted to throw him out the window at the time it happened. That stint was still in my ass cheek, you see, and the whole area (meaning, my ass) hurt. Little Jared did not know all this, I mean, who wants to hear a story about your grandma’s ass? So he didn’t know. But, he was 5 years old at the time, and what to 5 year old little boys like to do? Run and push and shove. So he can up to me, while I was STANDING at the kitchen sink, and in order to get my attention to ask me a question, he used both hands, TO GENTLY SHOVE ME IN MY BUTT!

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!

The pain! I let out a scream that could raise the dead! I thought I was the dead....or at least the dying! I cried for about an hour, all while my husband had to delicately explain to our grandson that you can’t beat grandma on her butt because she has a tube sticking out if it. The poor kid is probably going to need therapy for the rest of his life.

So a few hours go by, the party gets underway, and a few shots of my high octane jello shots with brandy and rum and vodka help to ease my pain. However, one guest showed up (a friend of a friend) with her little girl in tow. The little girl was precious: about 4 years old, and with cerebral palsy. She had braces on her legs to help her walk, and her walk was very wobbly. So it was with great caution that she toddled with the other little kids all over our house that night.

Later into the evening, some of the bigger kids were getting a little rowdy with some of the littler kids and I went in to calm things down. I’m so used to being Mommy-On-The-Go and hustling and bustling everywhere, that when I barreled into the room to see what the fuss was about, I almost ran straight into that little girl. Now certainly, I don’t want to bowl over any small child, much less a small child with braces on her legs. And there were about 4 other small kids underfoot at that precise moment. So? You guessed it. I braked myself very quickly from running into all these kids, especially the little girl with braces on her legs, and with all these little ones right underfoot, I stumbled and toppled myself right over: landing straight down on my ass!

Well, that was it. Party over. It had been a good one, but it was time to wrap up the night. The party itself had actually been fantastic, until the very end there. Pete, Alex and I had been a pirate family; Adrian came as a devil woman, with THE highest-heeled pair of shoes I have ever seen in my life; Jessica came as Betty Rubble from the Flintstones; Jared came as a Ghostbuster; Mason was a kickboxer; Kiley was a ballerina; Ro and Deb were cool ghouls; Gloria was a witch; Sandy was a prisoner; Joe was Jason from Friday the 13th; and my dad, as always, wore his “This IS my Halloween Costume” T-shirt that he wears every year. The highlight of the party was the treasure hunt we had prepared for the kids. Pete built a box and we filled it with fake jewelry, bubble toys, candy, gold coins, you name it. We buried it and then drew up a treasure hunt trivia map and boy, the fun the little kids had in deciphering the clues and finding the buried treasure! Even the bigger kids got in on the action! What a great night! Another Halloween success!

I do love our annual Halloween parties, they are always so much fun and everyone always has a great time. Gloria, Darrell and Sandy spent the night in their motor home, parked out in our driveway. I think it helped moved the party along a lot that I was constantly on the move, helping people, taking care of my guests, but I was tiring out. Those who were not in the know about my little problem kept telling me to take and break and sit down, or “come join me and let’s talk and catch up”, but I couldn’t. Literally, I couldn’t sit down. And I just couldn’t bring myself to tell everyone WHY.

Until I fell....then all bets were off. I started crying, again....most people probably thought unreasonably so. But a couple of my girlfriends, and of course, my hubby, knew what the problem was, and they herded everyone out of the house, and then everyone pitched in to clean up while I was sent to my room! HA, that hasn’t happened in a few years! But it was nice to not have to face a dirty, partied-out house the next day... and I am thankful to my friends for helping out.

So Halloween of 2006 drew to a close. The stint in my rear finally came out after 3 days, and while I my behind was sore for a few weeks afterwards, it eventually healed without needing any further visits to the doctor. I have not had a staph infection EVER in my life, either before then or since then, so don’t ask me why I happened to get those two, those awful two like that. I’m just chalking it up to another family Halloween mystery! Trick or treat!

Lupus

2008-12-01T07:09:00.001-08:00

Turning 40 the year before had proven to be a challenge. It was sort of ironic, really, considering that finally, at long last, so many of my personal dreams had come true. I was in a good marriage, my family was all around me, and, on the actual day of my 40th birthday, back in 2005, my oldest son’s birth mother had signed the adoption paperwork, making Alex ALL OURS! Too bad my body began acting 40 ( or 70 or 80), even if my head and heart didn’t feel it!

I’ve blogged previously about hot flashes...glowing, glistening, power surges, call them what you will, but they were (and still are) miserable. Like all of a sudden, a campfire exploded in my bra and was raging all over my head and chest! I sweat in places I didn’t know existed. I can’t wear makeup anymore...it melts and runs all down my face, like something out of a horror movie. Not a “Cover Girl” sight, unless the “Cover Girl” is straight outta Poltergeist! And all that sweat? I constantly feel like I smell like a city bus.

Then, the allergies started in. I had never in my life, EVER, had allergy problems...until I turned 40! All of a sudden, what the heck is this with my nose! I can’t breathe! What’s my problem! Who shoved a roll of hot, dry sandpaper up my nose, huh? And blowing my nose? Looked like a crime scene...I didn’t know whether to call it bloody boogers, or booger-y blood! It was awful!

The weight gain...now, I thought at 21 when I weighed 133 that I was heavy...turns out....I didn’t know what heavy meant! Good heavens! I turned into two of me! I liked to blame it on baby weight...but I did not actually give birth to my babies....um, are you all going to be mad at me, or can I still say it’s all my kids’ faults? You know, no time or energy to exercise anymore....they eat a lot of junk, etc., etc., etc.

So this is what I was dealing with, on an on-again-off-again basis as the year rolled by. Then, I got a real scare. I developed a head cold, nothing major, everyone gets ‘em from time to time, right? Well, one of my comfort foods when I have a head cold is Campbell’s Tomato Soup with grilled cheese sandwich. Yum! So I bought all these cans of that wonderful soup, and being stubborn that I am (I get it from my momma) I continued to go to work, even with the head cold. That soup was my lunch and dinner every day for over a week straight. That’s all I could keep down and besides, I love it! Well, about 2 or 3 days into my soup-a-thon, I started feeling much, much better from my head cold, but the body aches got worse. In fact, I had no more sinus trouble, no more chest congestion, no more sore throat, no more ear ache, but severe, awful body aches. They got worse and worse as the days went on...and Tylenol, Advil, Aleve....nothing would even begin to relieve the pain. It just continued to get worse and worse.

And it was a different kind of body ache, too. I’ve had plenty of colds and flus, and lots of body aches from too much exercise, body aches from hangovers and even from a few car wrecks in my lifetime. But this: this was different. The pain started in my left thumb knuckle, then in the rest of my fingers, then my wrists, then my neck, my elbows, my shoulders, my knees, my feet, my hips. By the end of the week, there was not a bone in my body that did not feel like it was being frozen into concrete and hit with a steel rod, all at once. This pain was not muscular...it was somehow....inside my bones. Deep, deep inside my bones, and in the middle of my joints. I was having trouble walking, bending my knees to sit on the toilet, picking up my son, holding a pencil or pen, typing, grasping the telephone, my toothbrush, a hairbrush, anything. It got so bad one morning that I could not get out of bed. Literally, I could not make my hips move to swing my legs over the side of the bed. I could barely move my arm to grab the bedside telephone to call my husband’s cell phone. My husband got scared and called my mom, the nurse. My mom got scared (and my mom does not GET scared....ever....) and by the weekend, we were all but convinced I had lupus. Systemic lupus. Not the discoid variety that attacks the skin, but the one that’s fatal, no less, where you suffer greatly and horribly for years, then just die. It figured. My life, at long last, was going to become a Lifetime Television Movie. The drama queen I had always been was finally coming to television! Woman waits 40 years to finally become a mommy, the whole long, sad, story, blah, blah, blah.....adopts a little boy and then BAM! Drops dead of something as goofy sounding as lupus a year later. I just knew it.

Well, apparently (and gladly) I knew wrong. I’m still here to tell you that what I had was a reaction to nightshades. Google it if you’ve never heard of it, it’s very informative. And I actually have a connection through my work to well-published author on the misery that is nightshades, but basically what it is, is a reaction in some people to tomatoes (Campbell’s Tomato Soup, for lunch AND dinner, every day straight for a week ring a bell anyone?), and to potatoes, to tobacco, to eggplant, and a few other items that grow in the ground. It causes an excruciation, bone-crushing inflamation in the joints, like arthritis. A bad, bad, awful case of arthritis. Some people can go their whole life without a reaction; some people can go half their life and then all of a sudden, once they get of a certain (a-hem) “older” age, they develop an almost “allergic” type of reaction to these plants. That’s me....I’m officially that age.

Turns out all I could do was wait for the pain subside while I quit Campbell’s Tomato Soup cold turkey (do they have a support group for that, I wonder?). I had every heating pad in the house, plus the electric blanket, wrapped around my body (even though it was early October and still plenty hot outside) and practically ate Aleve like it was candy. It took the better part of a week for the pain to go away, and even then, for several weeks afterwards, I still felt a little achy and weak.

What a miserable few weeks that was....like I said, turning 40, it’s a bitch...I’m glad I don’t have to do that again! And I’ll have you know, to this day, over two years later, I still have yet to buy another can of Campbell’s Tomato Soup! I’m sticking to Broccoli Cheese soup with crackers. Anyone care to join me?

Fall of 2006

2008-11-26T06:37:00.001-08:00

I love Fall...the colors, the (hopeful) change in temperature, the events and holidays. I am very marked by the school year calendar, and Fall, to me, always feels like the first of the year. That’s when I take stock, and do inventory, make plans and decisions.

First things first. We felt the need to do more in our church. We had been faithful church goers and Sunday school teachers up to 2004. When Angelia died in 2004, it’s not that we left God....far from it. It’s just that our church is so large, and hubby had been a member there since the 70s, and his older kids had basically grown up in that church, so for a long time after Angel’s passing, we stopped going, simply because there was always someone coming up to hubby, and wanting to know the details and needing to re-hash the story, and while everyone was sympathetic and understanding, it was a constant ripping open of Pete’s heart, every time someone, well-intentioned as they may have been, wanted to talk about it with him. So we just backed off for a while, only going to church occasionally, and not doing any of the extra activities that we usually took part in. Well, it was time to return to our “home” and our other “family”. So we went back to church and joined a wonderful adult Sunday School class, with young marrieds and young parents (haha, we’re literally the old folks, the “grandparents” of the class, but everyone made us feel wanted and welcome). We also put Alex in a Sunday School class (well, more like the nursery) and it took a while, but even he warmed up to going and made some new friends!

We enjoyed Matt’s company when he came to town for Gator homecoming that year. Matt plays in a band, plays drums and guitar, and for days after Matt’s departure, Alex would go over to Pete’s guitar, pat it and say, “bruh-bruh Matt”. It turned into a mini-family reunion, with the other kids, and hubby’s nieces and nephews there as well. Cooking out, making smores, music, we had a blast!

Alex continued to amuse us with his new verbal and other skills. Our efforts at baby proofing the house proved useless in one aspect, however. When Pete went all over the house putting the socket protectors in all the sockets around the house, unbeknownst to Pete, Alex followed him all around the house, took them all out, and then went to Pete, handed them all to him and said, “Here you go, daddy”, helpful as you please! He really thought he was helping Daddy out!

Alex is a comedian in so many, many ways: one evening at dinner, at Perkins restaurant, we caught him pulling on the top of his own head, and then he would bunch up both fists and stick them under his chin and push. This continued for several minutes before I finally had to ask him what in the world he was doing. His reply: “I can’t get my head off, Mommy!” After choking on my Diet Coke, I asked, “well, what on Earth would you want to do that for?” Well, dumb Mommy-me: “To see what’s inside!”

And to tell a story and pick on dear hubby a little bit: one evening the three of us were lounging on Mommy and Daddy’s bed, Alex jumping around and us trying to have a conversation simultaneous with trying to keep the baby from landing on his head on the floor. Hubby and I were chatting and hubby either said something or asked a question that was patently, certifiably absurd (shocking, I know, isn’t it...I can’t remember now what it was he said or asked, all these 2 years later, because THERE HAVE BEEN SO MANY ABSURD THINGS HE’S SAID SINCE THEN). My loving and laughing response was, “ Good grief, man! Where are your brains!”, to which hubby then replied, “Um, I really don’t know...I think I lost them about the time the baby was born...I don’t really know where I left them!” (My hubby is good like that: we have a very good, joke and prank filled marriage, that I hope you all are reading in the right context here). Well, again to illustrate that little ears are lurking everywhere and we have to watch what we say, Alex jumped in at this point and said, “Dada’s brains right he-uh!”, and proceeded to slam both hands down right on hubby’s blue-jeans covered crotch! Hard! Slam, bam, no thank you, ma’am! Hubby kind of doubled up and said, gasping, “Alex, watch that! That hurt daddy!” I began cracking up laughing and kept on with the whole thing, telling hubby, “well, if we’ve found your brains, please do me a favor and put them back in your head!” Alex, always on the ball, went on to “scoop” Dada’s brains out of his crotch, and with another well-aimed slam to the forehead, screamed, “He-uh, Dada, put you brains back in you head!” Over, and over, and over again. Scoop, slam, scoop, slam....Mommy is the who falls off the bed at this point! Laughing! What a joy children are! I think my husband ended up with a mild concussion!

Alex is also a caring child: saying “God bless” to all his friends during night time prayers, as well as insisting on singing each one of them (as well as all of our cats) the “Happy Birthday” song at bedtime (do you sense the delay tactic here that I do); he’s a happy child: “Mommy, go to work and talk to Annie Annie and kiss Annie Annie for me (referring to a beloved friend and co-worker, the one that gave him his favorite blanet or “mee-moo”), and making sure every morning that everyone is happy, “everybody make a happy face! Smile!”

Well, we were enjoying our time with Alex and getting ready for the onslaught of football games, parties, bar-be-ques and the holidays! There’s always something happening....I just didn’t know what!

Summer of 2006

2008-11-21T06:25:00.000-08:00

So Summer of 2006 kept rolling on....my “baby” got his first haircut, and his first pair of athletic shoes! My goodness, what a difference that made in him! I came home from work one evening, and there he sat in his high chair, his daddy feeding him supper, with a new, short haircut and light up, velco Elmo shoes! He almost didn’t look like my same baby! But then....he smiled, ah, that’s my boy!

Alex was becoming very popular....he’s very friendly and says hello and waves to everyone! He had been to the beach a few times, and some play dates and birthday parties, and baptism receptions, and for the most part, he was very well behaved. I was very proud of my son.

We had a wonderful, long, July 4th weekend that year. We kept very busy. On Saturday, we went to St. Augustine and Alex took his very first boat ride. It was a scenic cruise of the Matanza Bay, about an hour and a half long. We saw birds and dolphins and heard the cannon launch from the old Fort. Alex loved it, and did not get seasick or upset at all, which is great for us, since we love boating, and anything on or near the water. We strolled the historic district and went shopping at the souvenir shops and the candy store. We saw a man dressed as a pirate, with a real live parrot on his shoulder; musicians, and a 1700's marching band. Later that night, we had dinner with some friends who are English, and they say the funniest things, which I love, like “pip pip” and “cheerio” and Alex, of course, took it to mean we were having Cheerios.

On Monday, we went back to the beach at Cedar Key. After lunch, Alex found a crab crawling on the beach and had his first experience with play ground bullies. Some older kids stole his sand bucket and his crab! Well, mean old mommy here is gonna have none of that...I marched right over and made them give it back. It pays off sometimes for a momma to be going through “the change”; she can be a scary old be-yotch!

On the actual day of the July 4th, we went with my parents to Silver Springs in Ocala. We had a perfect day: took the glass bottom boat ride, Alex got to feed the giraffes, pet a baby alligator, ride the carousel (3 times), took a safari jeep ride, visited bears and monkeys, the petting zoo and ride the lighthouse ride! We went from there to my SIL’s house for a cook-out: all in all, a perfect family day!

Alex continued to grow, getting bigger and bigger, off the charts to be exact! In the 95th and 98th percentile for everything. He really began to use a lot of words over the summer, too: boom (for broom); poo (for pool); baboon (for balloon); Ruck-ruck (for Luck-Luck); Mock (for Uncle Mark); dees (for cheese); doos (for juice); elmo (for elbow); ro-ro (for Grandpa’s dog, Rose). And to really brag, he could even say some actual, real words, too: down, up, mama, dada, pawpaw, bat, star, more, moon, beep, car, and then some. It’s been fun, really, to keep track of his words: we have to act as translator to visitors who are not fluent in Alex-ese.

He also listens too well, too, reminding me as always to pay attention, coz he hears everything I’m saying. Dateline, Summer, 2006. Place: my kitchen. Attendees: mommy and daddy, with Alex hovering nearby. I had been trying to reconcile myself lately to living with the clutter and uproar and chaos that having a husband and a toddler bring along. But by nature, I’m a very neat, tidy, precise, and immaculate person, so it was rough. I was complaining to hubby: “Hon, I don’t know, I know we really can’t afford it, and I hate to spend the money on something I SHOULD be able to keep up with, but I can’t seem to do it, so part of me keeps screaming in my own mind: ‘Get a maid! Get a maid! Get a maid!’ I don’t know, what do you think?” Before hubby had a chance to reply, Alex, who had been lurking nearby, came up to me, tapped me on the elbow, began nodding his head, very solemnly and seriously, with those big, blue eyes focused right on me and said, “Mommy? Get a maid!”

Once Alex’s language skills really began to take off, he began to chatter and has never really stopped. Truly, I tell you, the kid even talks in his sleep. I guess it’s good that he’s so verbal, but now he just wants to know about EVERYTHING. I love that he’s curious and inquisitive, I hope he always has a thirst for learning, but having to stop ALL THE TIME and explain and describe everything I say or do or pass on the street: it was getting exhausting. Once at dinner, during a rainshower that was turning into a rainstorm, Alex got a little afraid of the thunder. To calm him, I used the technique that my mom used with us: telling him there’s nothing to be afraid of, that noise is just God bowling. I caught myself, and so did hubby, because he said, “Uh, oh, you’re in trouble now...you’ll have to explain to him all about bowling.. Sure enough, Alex turns to me and says, in all seriousness, “Mommy? Bowling? Start talking.”

As summer wound down, we planned our annual Labor Day weekend: pretty much a repeat of Memorial Day and July 4th: A trip to Cedar Key (our new family favorite haunt) and Silver Springs in Ocala, this time including us, my parents, my Aunt Chris, Pete’s sister Gloria, BIL Darrell and niece Sandy, and our friends Wendy and Steve and their two little boys. What a crowd we were!

It had been such a wonderful summer. Lots of friends, lots of trips, lots of family, lots of good food, good fun, good times. We were blessed and we knew we were blessed. Alex was a healthy, happy, well-adjusted little boy, and we adored him. We thought about him being an only child (well, from my side anyway) but neither hubby nor I had been an only, and none of the older kids had been an only, so it was decided: we were ready to start our heart’s journey to find our number 2. Let the paperwork begin!

A Baby becomes a toddler...2006

2008-11-17T14:14:00.000-08:00

Well, back to my time-line driven (or not so driven, sometimes) blog. Before I got sidetracked with being sick, and two of my kids being sick, I had taken you all through the beginning of 2006, with my hubby fresh out of the hospital and my Aunt Chris and cousin Tabatha having left, and Adrian returning home from her hard-partying New Year’s Eve weekend.

So 2006 got underway, and even after the holidays, and a round of hospitalization, and relatives in the house, things just seem to stay hopping busy in our family. January alone contains 5 family birthdays: my mom, my dad, Adrian, me and Aunt Nell. February has Valentines Day (Alex’s very first chocolate, and a coloring book about dump trucks), as well as Alex’s very first steps, taken at my mother’s house on Valentine’s Day; March brought the birthdays of my step-son and his wife, my boss, Tabatha, and two dear friends, as well as remembering Angelia’s birthday again. April brought not only warmer weather, but also the celebration of my sister-in-law’s birthday, and May is just jammed with Mother’s Day, Pete’s birthday, and our wedding anniversary on Memorial Day weekend. (I got a kitten for Mother’s Day that year, a stub-tailed, covered in soot, totally chilled out 10 week old kitten, named Lucky Luciano, or Luck-Luck for short). We celebrated our anniversary, not by taking in a movie, or a romantic dinner for two, or even chocolates and champagne, but with a wonderful trip to Cedar Key with our little boy! Alex went into the ocean for the very first time! And he loved it! Now, for those who know, the beach at Cedar Key is not much of an ocean, but it is the Gulf of Mexico, and that was where my baby took his very first dip! We played at the playground, built sandcastles, ate the picnic lunch we packed, went back in the water for more fun, and tucked the baby in a stroller for a leisurely walk around the waterfront at Cedar Key! What a wonderful day we had. The only fly in the ointment being me, of course: I was so worried about my baby getting sunburned, I chased him everywhere he went squirting sunblock on him every chance I got. In my paranoia, however, I forgot to put any on myself, and went home with a pain whopping sunburn on my back and shoulders. It took days to get over it, and made it very difficult to sleep.

Having a true toddler in the house now made life begin to get very interesting: he could now get on and off of beds and couches, turn door knobs, reach the cordless phone and push buttons. That resulted in some interesting outgoing answering machine messages several times that year. Alex would reach up and push RECORD NOW and there we’d be, one big happy family: talking, chatting, laughing (ah, who am I kidding, this is me we’re talking about: sobbing, shrieking, hollering) and not realizing that we were being recorded until the next time one of us called the other at the house and HEARD the sobbing, shrieking and hollering, instead of my usual, “Hi, you’ve reached...blah, blah, blah”).

Alex was hooked on Baby Einstein by now. Loved it...good thing, because we bought all the DVDs. The only thing he did not like about Baby Einstein, however, was one scene in the animals movie of the sea otters, rolling around and squirming. He hated that scene, hated it with a passion. The other scene he hated was the lawn mower cutting the grass scene in one of the movies. I think it was the noise, not so much the scene he hated. The sound of the lawnmower really made him scream!

He also developed an odd attachment to mommy cleaning the house. He loved to help me load the washer and dryer. He loved the feather duster and even took it outside on several occasions to help me by “dusting” the dirt in the back yard. His oddest house cleaning fetish, however, had to be the toilet bowl cleaner. I use those Clorox scrubbing wand cleaners, you know, you attach a scrubby pad to the end of the wand, use them once to clean the bowl, and then throw them away. Well, he loved that toilet bowl cleaning wand. One Saturday morning, I was cleaning the house before leaving to run errands and he grabbed that cleaner and would NOT, for dear life or bribery or anything, let it go. Daddy was gone on his own errands, and I had to get to the bank before it closed. I begged, pleaded, threatened, and that child went into a screaming, hiccupping, sobbing breakdown when I tried to pry that toilet wand from his hands. Time was rushing past, so.....it was off to the bank we went. Alex held it with him, high above his head, all the way to the bank, and then, again, another freak fit when I tried to get him to leave it in the car while we went inside the bank. It was no use. At least, I will say, that the scrubby part, the nasty, dirty toilet part, had been previously discarded. But that boy insisted on carrying that wand part inside the bank with him. Me carrying him, him carrying his wand, high above his head, and using it to point things out every now and again, like some kind of crazy Olympic torch runner. What a sight!

So, we proceeded into summer with our little family intact and enjoying every minute of the craziness. Pete and I have always loved summer and all summertime activities. I was enjoying summer of 2006 a lot better, too, since I had worked by butt off to lose about 30 pounds during the winter and spring. So we were ready to charge, full steam ahead into come-what-may!

Stay tuned!

Spiders, Part II

2008-11-11T07:55:00.001-08:00

Well, back to blogging...it’s been a crazy couple of weeks, and not in a good way...but when I last blogged, it was a look back to Halloween of 2003, the hubby’s spider bite episode. I’m going to resume blogging where I left off before that, but before that, I had to share an odd episode that occurred after blogging the spider bite event.

As I stated in that blog, I had to poke fun at hubby for the spider bite (after I knew he was going to be OK, of course) and bought a boat load of fake spiders to tease him with. He’s cool with that, and almost everyone who knows us was OK with it, too. A joke is a joke....looking at the bright side of things, taking it easy, etc., etc. Gotta laugh in life, right? Well, at the time the spider episode occurred, and hearing of my spider purchases, one person in particular thought my humor was in very poor taste, and told me so. Well, so what? I didn’t buy the spiders for him, did I? It was my hubby, and hubby thought it was funny, and that’s all that matters.

So when this person learned of me blogging the event (on the actual day of Halloween this year, Friday, October 31), he again stated his thoughts (verbally to me) on my sense of humor about the whole thing, to which I said, “whatever” and then wanted to...ahem....point a finger at him, ya know what I mean. Well, I didn’t, but I wanted to, and I kept that negative thought with me all morning, I’m loathe to confess. Then, later that morning I had to leave the office, and when I went out to my car, I SWEAR to you, I kid you not, my car was covered in spiders. Well, not entirely, every single square inch, but if there was one spider on my car, there were about 50. My right hand to God. It was eerie. Halloween day, I’m dressed for the holiday, and so was my car! Not great big hairy spiders, but a slew of itty, bitty, teeny, tiny spiders. I had to brush them off the door handle to my car in order to get inside! I was afraid I would find some inside my car as well, but I did not.

So, I ran my errand, thinking the spiders, as little as they were, would blow off my car as I drove. But, they did not. Those little suckers hung on for dear life and continued their parade all around my car while I drove through town. I finished my errand and returned to my office, hoping to find them gone when I left work at the end of the day. Not so. There they still were at 5PM. I drove home and showed them to hubby and he was just as befuddled as I was. Hubby hosed them off my car, and in the 10 days since Halloween, they have not returned, not even one.

So, I just don’t know what to make of that. Was it just an ironic coincidence that a creepy bunch of spiders landed on my car on Halloween day, just after me blogging the spider event of 2003, or is there a more ghostly, spooky hand at work here? What do you think? MMMMMMMUUUUUUUAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

Another look back: Halloween 2003

2008-10-29T07:09:00.000-07:00

In case you haven’t figured it out yet so far from this blog, my life is a study in the incredible, hilarious, bizarre and ironic. This is going to be another look back at my life BC (before children), but while we were in the process of trying to get approved for our very first adoption homestudy.

It was Fall of 2003. We had done all the paperwork, put together our financials, written our adoption and personal history essays, filled out all forms, answered all the questions, had our friends write their character references about us, had our criminal background checks done, gone to all the doctors for the appropriate medical checkups, and now we were just a couple of weeks away from the actual home visit by the social worker to get our approval.

Our former home was at the end of a cul-de-sac in a very nice, family type neighborhood, backed up to some woods. Now, I do love gardening. I always had nice plants and shrubbery and trees and flowers at every home I had lived in as an adult. But this particular house, there was something in the ground, the Earth, the very dirt beneath my home that I was severely allergic to. It had taken living there about two years to figure this out, after many rounds of poison ivy, poison oak, you name it. So by the time late 2003 rolled around, all the outdoor gardening duties had been delegated to my dear hubby. He didn't mind, however; he loves gardening, too.

So this one particular week in mid-October of 2003, hubby's "Honey-Do" list for the week included not only getting all the Halloween stuff out of the attic and set up on display, but also included sprucing up the yard and front porch and sidewalk before the social worker made her visit during the last week of October. So he's plugging along one morning out in the front yard....it was a little cool, so he had on his long jeans, instead of his customary shorts. He's raking and weeding and digging and then, all of a sudden, he feels a pinch in the back of his leg. OUCH! Oooh, that hurt! He thought it was an ant hill he'd stepped in, and ticked off an ant that had crawled up his pant leg, so he felt around through his jeans on the back of his leg, felt what he thought much have been a really big ant, and SQUISH! Killed the sucker! Back to raking.

That night....meh, he's not feeling so hot. A little tired, maybe. Probably all that raking in the yard, and hauling a zillion Halloween boxes down from the attic. Goes to bed early.

Next morning: still not feeling so hot. Pain in this leg. We take a look at it. Red, very red. And swollen. We put some ointment on it and the day proceeds.

That evening he starts becoming very lethargic. Continuing to complain of pain in his leg, too. We take a look at it...it's now very swollen, very hot to the touch, and looks almost like a burn. Mr. and Mrs. Doctor here make the astute medical assessment that it must have been "one hell of an ant bite" or even (and this takes real thinking here) a FIRE ant bite to leave that much of a mark.

The next morning, hubby's eyes are puffy and have dark, dark circles under them. He begins complaining of nausea. I tell him in my nicest, wife-y tone to "take it easy today". We're still not connecting the dots at this point that his ant bite has anything to do with these other symptoms.

That evening, the bite mark on the back of his leg has, for lack of a better term, exploded. The skin is shredding off his calf, and he's unable to keep food down, and the black circles under his eyes and the paleness of the rest of his skin make him look like a corpse. He's feverish and jittery, sweating bullets and can't walk. Lots of pain in the leg. He goes to the doctor the next day.

The doctor, our family doctor of the last 15 years, says it beats him what it is...that is, until Pete described the ant bite he received. Turns out it was not an ant bite after all. It was (drum roll here) the bite of a poisonous, deadly, potentially fatal brown recluse spider! Our doctor has never personally seen a brown recluse spider bite. It was so bad at this point, the doctor said if we had waited much longer, hubby could have lost his leg! As it was, hubby refused hospitalization (did I mention in an earlier post that my husband is extremely stubborn?)

So...hubby had to go into the doctor's office every single day for a debrieding of the tissue (spell check, please). I hope I'm using the right word, but basically, they had to cut out the dead and dying tissue from the back of his calf so that it would not poison the rest of the healthy tissue, then apply topical medicine and dress the wound, and he prescribed narcotic painkillers and antibiotics for hubby to take for 10 days. Our doctor even took pictures because he was attending a medical conference the next month, and wanted to do a presentation of the work done on my hubby's leg, since brown recluse spider bites are rather rare in Florida (at least, according to him). He took copious notes and video and pictures and really worked diligently to take care of hubby's hairy little leg.

Well, it was a difficult couple of weeks there, and needless to say, with hubby looking just this side of death (not to mention feeling that way) we had to postpone the social worker's visit to our house until the next month. But, for those of you who know me, you know that I simply could NOT let this episode pass us without memorializing it in some novel way. Because who else, if not us, would suffer a deadly poisonous spider bite so close to Halloween? So, you guessed it. I went to the local party store and if I bought one, I must have bought 100, paper, ceramic, plastic, velour, vinyl, rubber, anything, you name it, fake spiders to decorate our house with for Halloween. Yes, I am wicked, but hubby loved it. He "gets" me, and my bizarre sense of humor. If only I would use my power for good instead of evil....and to top it off? You may have read from an earlier post that I am just crazy enough to send out Halloween greeting cards...my own, not store-bought? Yup, you guessed that, too. I made copies of the doctor's pictures of the spiders bite...and sent those to a few friends and family members that I thought could take it. Not everyone, mind you...I'm not heartless. But my step-son (an Air Force medic) especially loved it...and asked for extra copies!

So that's how we celebrated Halloween 2003. A real trick, not much of a treat, but definitely interesting. And hubby's hairy little leg, to this day, still has the fist-sized scar to prove it. May your Halloween this year be much, much safer, but no less memorable for you! Trick or Treat!

The Rest of That Week......

2008-10-24T06:50:00.001-07:00

.....contained every drama imaginable between two teenage girls and a hot-tempered grandma like my mom. But before that even, I managed to piss off my step-daughter and my step-son....royally. Hubby, upon first being admitted to the hospital after midnight on December 30th, was only supposed to be in the hospital for one day, just long enough to have IV antibiotics administered, and hopefully get his pneumonia under control. We fully expected to bring him on either the evening of the 30th, or the morning of the 31st. All during the day of the 30th, however, he starred in his own little comedy show. His brain had been oxygen deprived from the pneumonia just long enough to make him Loopy, with a capital L. As a matter of fact, he was just plain bat -bleep- crazy. He thought the newscasters on the TV were actually there in the room talking to him. And he was talking back to them, discussing the local news, politics, etc. Then he thought he was a pizza delivery driver, kept saying he had to get these pizzas delivered, and didn't like to keep the motor running on the delivery car too long. Next, he thought he was up in the attic, looking for something. Kept saying, "I'll be down in a minute, honey, I know it's up here somewhere." Then he thought Adrian was there with another cousin of her, when she wasn’t. Like I said, bat bleep crazy.

In one of his more lucid moments, I had specifically asked him if he wanted me to call Matt and Ashley. He said no, because he would only be in the hospital overnight, would be getting out the next morning, and he didn’t want to worry or upset them, especially given his crazy talk. So...I didn’t call them.

Well, Ashley’s boyfriend’s mother was a nursing assistant and when later that night, or more exactly, around 5AM on the morning of December 31st, hubby suffered a very mild heart attack, guess who was on hand to witness it? You got it! The boyfriend’s mama....who then immediately called Ashley...who then called me and left an angry message for me at the crack of down. Later that day, in her dad’s hospital room, I think it was only because her dad was there that she refrained from really losing her mind with me...she managed to keep it in check. But then I also was privileged to get it on the phone from Matthew when he called a little later. I’m just an old wicked stepmother, I guess. But if I had known the guy was going to have a heart attack, I certainly would have told them, and...if the boyfriend’s momma can call Ashley to inform her of the heart attack, why the hell wasn't I, HIS WIFE, HIS LEGAL NEXT OF KIN, called? Huh? Anybody got an answer for that? I was the one with him when he was admitted, I was listed on all his charts. But no one calls me? What's up with that?

Well, the day continued, and when it was certain that hubby would be in the hospital for several days or a week, my Aunt Chris and my cousin, Tabatha, who is Alex’s birth mother, came down from Alabama to help me while hubby was in the hospital. They made the drive together on the day of New Year’s Eve. Not knowing exactly what time they would arrive and wanting to be with him as much as possible, I accepted Adrian’s offer to call in sick to work, so she could watch the baby while I was at the hospital. What I did not expect, however, was for Adrian to then use Pete's illness as an excuse to get out of work, SO SHE WOULD GO OUT PARTYING on New Year’s Eve! Pissed? I was furious. She asked me! I did not ask her! She asked me if I could use her help with baby Alex, and when I said yes, she turns around and did that. Took off to go out with her friends. I was livid!

Aunt Chris and Tabatha arrived mid evening. Adrian’s first question to Tabatha is to invite her to join in the fun and festivities she had planned for the evening. I was happy to hear Tabatha’s response that she did not come all the way to Florida to party, but to help me out while hubby’s in the hospital. Adrian got pissed at that reply and took off. Fine by me!

So Tabatha and I spent some time with hubby in the hospital that evening, and come home to Aunt Chris tearing my house apart because she lost her keys. We actually ended up turning furniture upside down. We finally find her keys, and my house settles in the for the evening, minus Adrian. I didn’t know where she was, didn’t care where she was, or what time she got home. Of if she came home. I was still pissed.

Well, she did come home, at some point. Drunk, apparently, because she left her car parked in the street in front of our house. She was grouchy and hung over all day the next day, and at some point, she and my mother got into it when Adrian made a comment about Alex being spoiled, and my mom went off! She flew in to a rage at Adrian. They had words, harsh words, everyone upset to the point of tears. It was bad, really, really bad, mostly because I had to hear every word of it, blow by blow, detail for detail, from not only one, but from BOTH of them! And, to top it all off, the tension in the house between my mother and Adrian sent Tabatha off on a loop, not that I blame her. It was very upsetting to her, the emotion, the anxiety, all of it, plus this being the first time she had seen Alex since giving birth to him a year earlier. Then the girls decided to dye each other’s hair one night. Tabatha’s hair did not turn out exactly the way she wanted it, so she and Adrian got into it. They acted like 7-year-olds, not the 18-year-olds they were at the time. I mean, the name calling, finger pointing, drama....I was ready to have my own heart attack! It all finally ended with Tabatha collapsing into a heap of tears, wanting to go home. At that point, I was ready to leave and go with her. Anything had to be better than all this. It was a day spent trying to figure out the logistics of getting Tabatha back home, and ended up with Aunt Chris driving her back to her parents’ home in Alabama. Luckily, hubby was due to leave the hospital the next day, so it wasn’t a terrible hardship for me. My poor father had been unable to help or provide any babysitting that week, because of his own head and chest respitory infection...he didn’t want to get either Alex or me sick.

I guess all’s well that ends well....hubby recovered.....Tab went home.....Adrian started back to school and work now that the holidays were past.....Matt and Ashley got over being mad at me....but da-yum! What a way to start the New Year! Happy 2006!

The Next Day

2008-10-20T06:36:00.000-07:00

It’s a good thing we had such a wonderful time for Alex’s first birthday, because the next day, the bottom fell out! Hubby had started developing a cough the day before, but managed to keep it in check for the day of the party. By the following day, he was really feeling rough. I had to go back to work, but hubby reassured me he would be OK, with Adrian’s help. Adrian had the day off from work, too, so she agreed to help keep an eye on both my boys.

I spoke to hubby once during that day, around noontime. He sounded awful, so I told him to take some cough medicine and hit the sack. I didn’t hear from him the rest of the day, but that didn’t necessarily worry me; I just figured he was sleeping.

When I got home, I found Adrian sitting on the floor in the family room. The hallway door was shut, the heat was cranked up to hellish, the baby was in his crib in his room, screaming, and hubby was nowhere to be found. I asked Adrian where he was and she said to check our bedroom. She said she thought he was asleep, because he’d been in there since early afternoon.

I went in the bedroom and found hubby slumped on the floor, in a pool of vomit, tangled in the sheets, pulled halfway off the bed. I rushed to him, thinking he was dead. He wasn’t dead, just looked pretty close to it. His eyes were bloodshot and droopy, he was hot and sweaty, his voice was raspy. I grabbed him and started trying to pull him up. He looked up at me and in his own predictable denial, hacked to me that “everything’s all right, I’m OK”. “OK?” I shouted. “Get up”! I ordered. But he couldn’t hold himself steady enough to get up. I start trying to pull him off the floor, and he keeps repeating to me, in a foul-odored, scratchy voice, “it’s all OK, everything’s all right, I’m fine”! “Fine! How are you fine! Is this fine? You’re on the floor, covered in vomit, and you can’t stand up! What’s going on here?” He replies that he just doesn’t feel very well, but he’ll be OK in a minute.

I go into the adjoining bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean up his face. I see not only an old bottle of narcotic cough medicine, but also a bottle of OTC cough suppressant. He couldn’t answer for me, so I was left to assume that he had been tossing back doses of both, according to the small amounts that were left in each.

I go back in the bedroom and start trying to mop up his face. He begins to complain about feeling his heart racing. Well, duh! I begin searching for our blood pressure cuff, only to finally find it broken somehow. A racing heart, combined with everything else I was seeing there, was really scaring, so I ordered Adrian to pitch in and help out by watching Alex, while I drove hubby to a pharmacy, so I could use their blood pressure cuff to check his pressure. We drove to the first pharmacy. I dragged hubby out of the car and half-carried, half-shuffled him into the pharmacy. Only to find the blood pressure cuff at that pharmacy was not working. I manage, somehow, to get him back out to the car, and we head off for another pharmacy. Unload him from the car again, manage to get him into the store, and find the blood pressure machine. All the while, I’m on the phone with my Mom, a nurse, getting advice from her. I get my spittle-covered and wobbly husband seated at the machine, and hook his arm through the cuff. I hit the start button and wait for the cuff to pump up, all the while, with hubby mumbling incoherently to himself. Customers in the pharmacy, waiting for their medicine, are giving him the fish-eye, me the sympathy eye, and giving both of us a very wide berth. Mom is still on the phone, suggesting I get him some carbonated soda, since he was complaining of thirst, so I leave him at the blood pressure machine to do it’s work, and went to the front of the store to pay for a cold diet coke. I get the soda, and return to the back of the store, only to find husband has fallen asleep and has slid off the chair at the blood pressure machine, WITH HIS LEFT ARM STILL ATTACHED TO THE CUFF! So he’s basically just hanging there, dangling, by his left arm, with the rest of his body crumpled on the floor. What a sight.

I unhook the pressure cuff, and manage to drag him back up to the seat. People are continuing to look at us funny, and a couple of people by now have come over to ask if I need any help. I’m sure they think he’s my dad, drunk out of his tree. “No, thanks”, I reply, “I can manage it from here.” I manage to snark to hubby that he’s creating a spectacle, and my darling hubby, ever the one to worry what others think, attempts to straighten up somewhat after I get some diet coke into him, and after a few minutes, he decides he can walk out of the store on his own. He stood up, and with me holding his arm to help guide him, we begin to leave the store. But, just leaving the store upright is not good enough for my beloved....no....he needs to assure everyone that he is as on top of the world and living large and in charge as ever. So he begins to whistle. I don’t really know what it was he was trying to whistle, because it came out as a vomit-spittled hack. He began to hack so hard, with spittle flying everywhere, he began to stumble to the floor. We manage to make it outside, and I don’t know what happened, maybe it was the cold-night air hitting him, but he had to PEE! I said, “OK, fine, well, I’m taking you to the emergency room, so just hold it till we get there.” “No,,” he replies, “I need to pee now!” So I suggest we go back into the store and use the restroom, and start to turn him around to head back that way. Well, let’s just say he must have REALLY needed to go, because he lurched ahead of me, into the alleyway between the pharmacy and the store next door, unzipped and pulled down his pants, and WENT. Right there. At least he hit the dirty ground, and not the cement sidewalk.

Well, to make a long story a little shorter, he ended up in the ER that night being diagnosed with double pneumonia. We spent hours in the ER, with hubby finally, slightly sobering up from his earlier adventures with cough medicine. Always on the lookout to make sure people know he’s in full control and command, hubby tried valiantly to make meaningful conversations with everyone who entered his ER room during the course of the night. And every time he’d open his mouth and begin a monologue about who-knew-what, out came the vomit. Buckets and buckets of vomit. Every time, with someone standing in front of him, eagerly awaiting his words of wisdom. Every. Single. Time.

Eventually, he was admitted to the hospital to the medical floor. However, on his second night there, he suffered a mild heart attack, brought on by the lack of oxygen due to the double pneumonia. He was in the hospital for about a week. Safe and snug and far removed from the drama going on at home.

Yeah, that’s right....the lucky jerk gets to hide out in the hospital and have a heart attack AND double pneumonia, while I get stuck at home, having to sort out the drama, histrionics and egos of my mother, Adrian, and my cousin, Tabatha. The old fart! Stay tuned...........

2008-10-15T18:16:00.000-07:00

My baby.... turning a year old already! Where did the year go? We celebrated with what was supposed to be just a family party, but Alex is so loved, people kept calling and stopping by all day to wish the big guy a very happy first birthday! Grandparents were there, Uncle Mark was there, Sissy Puppy (Adrian) was there, Sissy Jessie was there, and Dannette and Mason and Kiley, Roland and Debbie, Stacy and Kirsten, and Tiffany and CJ, all showed up throughout the day. We ended up having quite a full house by the middle of the afternoon, so we ordered a bunch of pizzas and really let go with a good time.

There was cake, too, of course, baked by Granny. I had looked forward to my first child’s first birthday cake for as long as I could remember. The moment had arrived, and my wonderful son did not disappoint me. He tore into that cake like a starving refugee. Needless to say, we ended up having to steam clean the carpets by the time he was done, but it was worth it.

I loved every minute of it! I had feared that my little boy’s birthday, coming so close after Christmas, would leave him neglected and forgotten on his big day....boy, was I wrong! Toys, clothes, books, cards, games.....what a feeling of love and caring we all received that day for Alex. A whole year old. My baby’s growing up!

Alex's First Christmas

2008-10-12T16:23:00.000-07:00

Well, his first official Christmas anyway. Christmas 2005. It's funny to look back at my first full year as a new mommy.

Alex was originally due on December 29 of 2004, but we had headed up to Alabama on the 22nd. We spent Christmas day the year prior at my Uncle Albert and Aunt Nell's house, right on the edge because Tabatha kept having contractions all day long. Around 5pm, we thought, "this is it!", but little Alex just wanted to keep us on our toes. He did not come until three days later. That Christmas of '04 was memorable for another reason, however. Aunt Nell had asked me for a private moment together. I thought it was going to be a moment of explanation or instruction or something along the lines of how they wanted us to raise this baby, but that was not the case. What she did say was, "I was told by your mother and Chris [my other aunt] that you want Al and me to still be this baby's grandparents. Is that right?" I said, "yes, of course." Aunt Nell had quite a funny look on her face: that look you get right before you start crying. She said, "God bless you" and started crying. Then, "do you know how wonderful that makes us feel?" My reply: "well, it's a no-brainer. Family is family. You're his grandparents, and we're all family. Case closed." She said that that was the best Christmas gift she'd ever received.

So....we missed Christmas 2004 with our family back home, since we were up in Alabama awaiting Alex's arrival. We did something kind of sneaky. We had not told anyone about Alex, and our adoption of him, JUST IN CASE. Only my parents and Aunt Chris and of course, Adrian knew. So when we weren't there for the family Christmas celebration with hubby's side of the family (and that's a large, extended family) we ticked some people off royally. We just left a quick phone message with my sister-in-law saying that a family member of mine in Alabama was going to be in the hospital (not a lie, right?) and that we wanted to be with her. Then when Alex was born 3 days after Christmas, and we called to tell everyone, no one believed us. They thought we'd taken off for the islands. And then when the stay dragged on and on, all across the Southeastern US, everyone really thought we'd lost our marbles.

So...when we finally arrived back in our home town in late January of 2005, we had a late Christmas celebration. We dressed Alex in a tiny, newborn Santa suit, and had homemade cookies, gifts, family, food, friends....everyone wanted to come see our miracle baby. It was a wonderful, wonderful celebration.Christmas of 2005, looking back on the past year...it brought tears to my eyes. What a difference a year can make. It was in some ways a more difficult year than 2004....that first year without Angelia. I guess because by 20 months after her death, the shock of losing her had worn off. It was "real"...she was truly gone. That first year, that first Christmas without her, we were very caught up in the excitement of the arrival of our new baby. This second year....it sinks in....it's not just a bad dream... a painful resignation sets in...that such awful tragedies really DO happen. But, as we learned, miracles happen also. Never can one child replace another, but certainly, another child can bring you happiness and the will to go on and live again.

Alex is such a miracle baby, for that and so many other reasons. It was pure joy to watch him as he enjoyed his first Christmas.

Alex's Baptism

2008-10-08T16:24:00.000-07:00

What a priceless day. My first born gets baptized. What a honor to have so many people there with us for the baptism, to be baptized in our family's church, to know that you are a child of the King, that you are so very, very loved.

Dear Heavenly Father, We praise and thank You with our hearts for the liberation You have given us from the clutches of sin and Satan. By Your death on the Cross of Calvary, You have put our old lives with its sin and judgment to death forever, and endowed us with a new life that is abounding with joy. We pray for our child to lead a life rich in the teachings of the Bible. We pray that our child grows into adulthood with a strong sense of sprituality and grace. We pray that our child will always call on Christ in prayers of thanks and prayers for peace. We pray that our child always enriches the lives of people he meets and never leaves anyone sad. We pray for our child.Lord Jesus Christ, You have given new birth to our child, by water and your Holy Spirit. You have made him a child of your Father, a member of your Church, and an heir of heaven. We offer You sincere thanks and promise with the help of your grace to teach him in accord with the baptismal promises to believe unhesitatingly in your message, to obey faithfully your commandments, and to remain ever united with You in life and in death.

Amen.

It was a great day....surrounded by family and friends and especially the blessings of Our Heavenly Father! Adrian was there, Ashley and Jared were there, Matthew, Emily and Colton came in from Mississippi to participate in Matthew's baby brother's baptism, Aunt Chris was there, Uncle Bob and Aunt Jean were there, and many friends to share our joy. Our only disappointment was that Uncle Albert and Aunt Nell (Alex's grandparents) could not join us from Alabama. Aunt Nell had been diagnosed with breast cancer two months earlier, and was post-surgery and waiting to begin chemotherapy. We had considered postponing the baptism until they could travel to join us, but Aunt Nell insisted that we go ahead. She wanted us to have him baptized, because she knew how much it meant to us to have Alex join our faith and our church. So we forged ahead without them, but knowing they were most definitely with us in thought, spirit and prayer.

The service was beautiful, of course. Pete and I both cried, as did many others, I'm sure. Afterwards, we all gathered for a brunch at the Gateway Grand and it was a wonderful time. Thanksgiving weekend, surrounded by blessings of family and friends: Dannette and Danielle, Roland and Debbie, Ann and Jim, Paul and Marcy, Joe and Lorraine, Wendy and Stephen and Patrick....what a joy to see our beautiful son with so many people to love and support him.

Alex's First Thanksgiving

2008-10-05T17:28:00.000-07:00

The Thanksgiving of the disappearing food....but not the way you'd think. Sounds strange, doesn’t it? Let me explain....

It was meant to be the Thanksgiving of all Thanksgivings. Our first with our new baby....and everyone and their Uncle Abner were invited. The Halloween decorations came down around November 2, and immediately the Thanksgiving decorations began going up. Pumpkins, cornucopias, scarecrows, turkeys, Indians, Pilgrims, not all of it politically correct, mind you, but very festive and Thanksgiving-y.

The folks: us, my mom, my dad, my brother, Gloria, Sandy, Jessica and Rick, and Adrian and Aaron; Ashley and Jared.

The menu: Turkey with oyster dressing (hubby’s fave); baked macaroni (Adrian’s fave); sweet potato casserole (my fave); green bean casserole; mashed potatoes with gravy; apple pie; pumpkin pie, pecan pie, my homemade cranberry bread, and my mother’s contributions: dumplings (Mark’s favorite); homemade sourdough bread (everyone’s favorite); and corn casserole.

The mystery: Chaos ensued at our house that morning, as it does all mornings, and at my mother’s house, as well. So hubby, in a chivalrous attempt to be helpful, offered to go over to my mother’s house to pick up her food platters and bring them here, since Mom and Dad and Mark wouldn’t be arriving until a little later, and our guests were all beginning to arrive at our house. The dumplings weren’t quite ready yet, but the corn casserole and the sourdough bread were, so hubby loaded them up from Mom's house and brought them home. He brings in the corn casserole dish, covered in aluminum foil. Sets it on the counter. He goes back out to get the sourdough bread, and set the bread down.....somewhere.

Fast forward to dinner time. Mom is arriving with Mark and Dad. Getting out of Mark’s van, Mom stumbled and dropped the huge casserole dish of dumplings right there on the driveway. The dish broke into pieces, and the dumplings went everywhere. Well, S**T! We set out the corn casserole, as well as the other various dishes and main entree (the turkey, of course) and upon removing the aluminum foil from the corn dish, we discovered that mom had given hubby the wrong dish out of her refrigerator. The dish was more than half eaten! Mom had made a corn casserole a week earlier for her house, and made a fresh dish the night before, for our Thanksgiving dinner. When she had looked into the fridge to hand it to hubby, she handed him the wrong one! The bread....where’s the bread....everyone loves Mom’s sourdough bread. Quite simply, hubby cannot remember where he put it down. He remembers that the counters were piling up, and the bread was not ready at that time to unwrap and set out, so he laid it somewhere....out of the way. WAY out of the way, apparently, because now we can’t find it! We looked everywhere. The rolls are simply gone. I thought hubby was joking, pulling a prank, but after long minutes of even him searching, I realized he had simply lost his mind and now our Thanksgiving dinner would be served without the bread! Luckily, my family has a sense of humor, and I baked and cooked enough for an army, so no one went home hungry. We did miss my mother’s cooking (Mark especially missed her dumplings), but I just couldn’t resist profusely thanking my mother for all that she brought to the table, on this most memorable Thanksgiving of 2005!

So how ‘bout you? Any Thanksgiving day dinner disasters to share?

Sissy Jessie Turns 21!

2008-10-02T16:13:00.000-07:00

OK, I don't mind the kids getting older, I really don't. I love to see them grow up and find their way, their path in life, watch them take everything we've tried to teach them, and make a run with in their own lives, in their own unique way. I watched the stepkids grow up since they were just little things, and now they are all slowly but surely leaving the nest, leaving behind their youth, their childhood, their innocence, and us. It's a wonderful thing.

If only I wasn't growing older right along with them!

But anyways.....it mattered NOT that we had had all the same people together for our yearly Halloween soiree only two weeks earlier, or that we'd all be together again in just a couple of weeks for Thanksgiving. No siree! I love to plan and orchestrate any type of celebration, holiday or family gathering. I guess it's because I love my family so much.

So with Jessica's birthday falling on November 3rd, I organized and gathered the clan for a dinner celebration at a local family owned restaurant. So the big night arrives. Everyone shows up with gifts and cards, and we brought a cake for candles and singing. The first hint that the night would not go as planned was when our waitress appeared to be either drunk or on drugs. She was friendly, alright, but in that way of "oh, s***, I'm drunk....maybe if I'm extra nice to these people, they won't notice". Please, Lord, don't let her trip and fall over one of us. Maybe she wasn't drunk, I don't know, maybe she was just challenged in some mental or emotional health way. But whatever, she was just so overboard with us on everything. It was creepy.

Our second mishap was when one of the decorations hanging on the wall above our heads....fell OFF the wall. No one was hurt, mind you, but it was bizarre. It was just a flower wreath, but sure enough. The nail it was hanging on must have slipped, because the wreath came flopping down on top of our table.

Well, the family's all there....we order our food. And wait half an hour for our drinks to be served. The drinks finally arrive, and tipsy the waitress spilled my Dad's sprite all over him.

Eventually, our food arrives also. Now the fun begins. My brother and sister-in-law, Terry and Theresa, had ordered a medium pizza to split between the two of them. Their pizza arrives, a cheese and veggie pizza. The cheese is there, the veggies are there, but about the inner 1/3 to 1/2 of the pizza is still RAW PIZZA DOUGH! Disgusting! One in-law ordered a fish dish without pepper, due to her allergy to pepper. How did it arrive? WITH PEPPER! Hubby ordered a steak medium rare. It was so well done he practically broke his steak knife trying to cut it. They may as well have served him a brick. I ordered a Fettuccine Alfredo. The pasta noodles were way undercooked and hard to bite. Out of about 20 people there, only one couple had their food arrive as ordered, and edible.

But despite the bad service and WORSE food, a good time was had...I mean, isn't the point of a family gathering to enjoy the people you're with? We did...sure, the girls sniped and quarreled and gossiped. They're 18 and 21 and 25 now, but when the three of them are together, they still act like grade schoolers. But ya know what? That's them. Gotta love them. Jessica really felt the love that night. She got gifts and cards and a cake and we all sang and kissed and hugged her. Those things are important...our family learned the hard way with the loss of Angelia. You take the moments, even the bad ones, and embrace them, treasure them, hold onto them and remember them, because you never know when you might never see them again.

Happy Birthday, Jessica! My baby girl is growing up!

Halloween 2005

2008-09-30T04:02:00.000-07:00

Aaaahhh, I love, love, love Halloween! Always have....usually, we went to Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios, have for years. But this year, with a new baby, I decided to make my own Halloween Horror Nights....by having a Haunted Halloween party!

Oh, it was so much fun...I love decorating for Halloween....I love to bake and make all kinds of creepy foods for Halloween, I love to dress up! I’m really just a big, dumb kid at heart and love, love, love Halloween! And I confess, I go ALL out for Halloween. Who wants to just call your family and friends with the invite, when you can buy specially bought Halloween stationary to make your own invitations? And who wants to type it up in regular Times Roman font when you can use CHILLER? (Sorry, the blog format doesn't have that font for me to use here). And who wants to serve up spinach dip as just plain old spinach dip, when you can call it “Hair of Witch”? And why set out a big bowl of pasta, and just call it pasta, when you can gross everyone out with the name of “Brains of the Dead”? And peeled grapes make excellent dead eyeballs, in case you didn’t already know. You get my drift? I really love Halloween.

So I begin decorating for Halloween on October 1st....that’s how much Halloween stuff I have. I bought a pumpkin outfit for baby and spent the better part of an entire Saturday afternoon struggling with him to get THE PERFECT picture to adorn our Halloween holiday cards...yes, folks, I even create and mail out our own family Halloween holiday cards....told you I was a Halloween nut, didn’t I? And not only do I mail out Halloween picture cards, I enclose a Halloween poem, appropriate in content to the picture on the Halloween card...I called it “My Li’l Pumpkin”.

The party turned out to be a rousing success....the right mixture of family and friends, big kids and little kids...food and fun....creepy, spooky Halloween music and lights, drifting through every room in the house. I had created my own Halloween coloring books, and even the adults colored them. People that I didn’t expect would dress up, did! Jessica and her boyfriend made a spectacularly ghouly couple. Jared made a very authentic Batman (his current idol). And Ashley was a very anorexic cow. Adrian was a leopard lady, and Stacy was an angel. We watched kid-friendly Halloween cartoons (Snoopy and Charlie Brown, etc.); the food disappeared like I was feeding an army of refugees, and everyone loved, loved, loved my Halloween colored jello shots, especially Gloria!

I just love Halloween....I wish I could celebrate it once every three months! Enjoy the pics!

Back to Work!

2008-09-27T15:16:00.000-07:00

I looked ahead to the day like one would look ahead to an appointment with a firing squad. Actually, I ended up being spared a day, because I was called for jury duty on Monday. And I ended up getting excused from jury duty because of having a newborn. So my actual first day back at work wasn't until a Tuesday.

I got up that morning at about 5:00 AM. I was determined that if I was not going to be able to be at home during the day with my new baby, I would for certain make it impossible for him or his father to not feel my presence and my love for them. So when I got up that morning, I cleaned the house, I washed bottles, I did laundry, laid out clothes for the baby, fixed breakfast and lunch and set out and arranged every single, solitary item that they would need throughout the day. I tried to anticipate and prepare for every single thing they would need, every move they would make, every meal, every nap, every activity, every hour, every minute, every second of their day. Wow! What a morning! I don’t think a military General does as much preparation before his troops head off to war as I put into a baby and his daddy being at home for one day!

Finally, when all was in my very own, OCD obsessed order, I got dressed, I kissed and hugged and practically smothered the baby with love, and burst into tears, just as I hit the door. I sobbed, big, huge, gulping sobs the entire way to my office. I felt certain that my baby would forget who I was by 5:30 PM. After weeks of touring the southeastern US, and then weeks at home with me doing not much more than simply holding him warm and close and tight, for hours and hours on end, feeding him, burping him, changing him, cuddling him, loving him to pieces, while outside the world was cold and blustery, how could he not forget me while I went off to earn a living? I hated myself and the economy and the world at large that morning for making it necessary to actually to have to go out and beat down a paycheck. Granted, it was some comfort that his beloved and wonderful father was the one staying at home with him, but I wanted it to be me, too.

My first day back at the office, truth be told, was not that bad. To give my boss some credit, he did not inundate me with old work. It was a very slow, steady, evenly-paced day, and I actually got to leave work on time. It was OK, as far as first days go when you leave your baby at home for the first time. When I got home, I picked him up and sat down in the recliner, and I honestly do not think I moved from that spot until 9:00 PM. I tried to cram about 9 hours of missing him into the few hours until bedtime. In interrogated my husband about the baby’s day as if he were the enemy suspect, and I were an FBI investigator. I asked my husband if he thought Alex would grow up hating me for being a working mom...I know.... a ridiculous question. But my self-pity demanded that I wallow a little more and ask it.

It got better, a little, over time. My daily “morning raid of readiness” continued for about a month, and then exhaustion set in, along with the admission that his father actually could handle the routine of a simple day at home with baby, without my micro-management, so I began sleeping in until about 7AM. But it was several months before I actually could leave the house without crying. I still, to this day, wish I was the one at home with the babies, but that is not how our life panned out. And I am so eternally, entirely grateful that the kids have their father with them every day, instead of a nanny or babysitter. I’m lucky that my husband loves his job as a full-time, hands-on, stay-at-home dad, and wouldn’t trade it for the world. But ah, what a nice and comforting thought, if only we could both stay home and be with the kids, and if every child born had that blessing, to be so loved, to be so wanted. I can’t help but think, what a wonderful world it would be.