On the first evening of Daylight Savings Time.

The bane of parents of young children trying to get them in bed on time, an hour earlier.  Sigh.

S went down beautifully.

G not so much.  In fact, it is 9pm and we just had the following conversation:

G:  Mommy, I’m scared

Me:  Ok, go to bed, talk to God about it.  He’ll help you not be scared.

(a few minutes later he comes out again)

G:  Mommy, God told me that S is asleep.

Me:  He did, huh?

G:  Yes.

Me:  Did He also tell you not to be scared?

G:  Yes.

Me:  Did God tell you there were no monsters?

G:  no…

(a minute later…)

g:  Mommy, God said I could read more books…

(this is a classic delay tactic to avoid going to bed, but I had to give him credit for creativity, it made me laugh out loud)

(another few minutes later)

G:  Mommy!  I love Jesus!

(I couldn’t help but grin.)

(a few minutes before that…)

G:  Mommy, God said he’s holding on, and letting go…

(I’m not sure of the meaning of that one, but it means something to G I guess)

G:  Mommy, Jesus loves Winnie the Pooh

(Now, he’s really pushing the limits, but it sure still is cute)

G:  Mommy, Jesus wants to play the computer with me, he doesn’t want to go to bed

Me:  G, God wants you to go to bed.

G:  God didn’t say that.

Me:  Well who do you think put me in charge?

Never a dull moment…

On a nice day recently (chilly for our neck of the woods, hence the jackets), I loaded up the kids and bikes and uber furry dog and headed to the local park around the corner.  We had a great time riding around the bike trail through the “woods.”   Considering I grew up in the wilderness of Kentucky, it’s hard to call this a nature trail when the interstate is roaring mere yards from where we are, ahem, peacefully riding, but it is a nice ride and great exercise.  We are so excited that this great park opened so very close to our house.

Next on my shopping list is my own bike.  Their little legs are starting to get a little fast for my stride.

A pink bike.

I’m all girl like that.

That would be the question…that plagues our thoughts and minds and hearts and energy now.  That and a cold virus.

His continued speech delay and other factors lead us in this scary, exciting, daunting direction.

Any advice?

• G, upon picking him up from school on Groundhog Day with a craft of a groundhog coming up out of a styrofoam cup via a popsicle stick:  ”I’m hibernating.”  Me:  ”Oh yea, did you learn about the groundhog today?”  G:  ”Yea.  He has to go back in the cup to get his shadow.”
• S, while playing with G’s knight and horse play set, “Look!  I’m playing with Frodo!”  Huh?!  When did she watch Lord of the Rings??  Where does she get this stuff??
• Trying to get G to blow his nose…  ”No, Mommy.  I’ve FIVE.”  Me:  ”Huh?”  G:  ”I can’t blow my nose because I’m five.”  Apparently, it’s a super power that you get when you turn six.
• I threatened to throw all of S’s toys in the trash if she didn’t clean up her room in five minutes (I had given her several hours and several reminders.)  S:  ”Ok, go ahead.”  The only things in her room now are her bed, dresser, and toy chest.  Never fear, the toys are in the garage but they will probably get weeded out this weekend before returning to her room.
• She still hasn’t asked for her toys.
• G, when I hugged him.  ”Mommy, you’re too squeezy.  I’ll hug big and you hug small.”

That was the phrase I heard loud and clear outside our examining room door while we were waiting on the results of the flu swab for S last night at her pediatrician’s office.

Hmmmm, must be us.  S did have the symptoms, but it was also crowded so it could’ve been anyone.

It sure was us.  S started with a cough yesterday or the day before and yesterday afternoon was down and out so fast – within fifteen minutes – with a fever of 103.6.  My super active child was on the couch with her stuffed monkey companion either asleep or whining or cold or wanting in my lap.  Poor baby.

Did I mention how brutal that swab is for a 2 year old girl?  No fun.  I’d rather hold her down for a shot than for liquid then a cotton swab up the nose.  Ugh!!  Needless to say, she was less than trustful of anyone who entered the room after that.  The PA was super sweet and so good with her.  She convinced S that Dora and Boots were hiding in her ears and that Diego was in her mouth.  S promptly swallowed Diego.  Hilarious!

I haven’t been feeling so hot the past couple of days and woke up feeling rough this morning, so I guess it’ll be a weekend on the couch with a perpetual rerun of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast.

And I wonder why I keep singing about this strange, rude guy “Gaston” in my head.

She is doing great this morning – no fever yet, just a cough.  Me – barely a cough, more really achy and runny nose than anything.

You so wanted to know those details, didn’t you?

On the plus side, we’ll save money on vaccinations and then we’ll have no worries about catching it anymore.

It’s really not so bad right now for our family, but I do understand how tragic it has been a lot of people.

More later,

Nurse-Patient-Mommy Tara

Dearest Chris,

Where do I start?  Almost eleven years this month we have been together, first as friends, then as spouses.  It tickles me to no end to think on all those questions from our friends when we were “hanging out” – are you and Chris dating?  are you a couple?

“No, no, no…he’s not my type, just a great friend.”

I’m thrilled beyond words to know that after eleven years we are still great friends.

You are patient, you are kind.  Generous almost to a fault.  I love that about you.

I have never known you to be envious or proud.  Confident in what you do, but never proud.

You are not rude or self-seeking, you always are thinking of our children and me first and foremost.

You are not easily angered and I’m so thankful you keep no record book of all my faults and wrongs.  You certainly exhibit the love, grace, and mercy of Christ in all that you do.  What a wonderful example for our children.

You keep evil far from you, even to the potential ridicule of others in this world that is not our own.  I am always more thankful than words can express for the high standards that you hold yourself to.  I am blessed.

You protect us, you trust where trust is due but do not trust when it is in our best interest to protect us.  What a fine line to walk and what wisdom you carry.

Thank you for laughing with me, holding me when I cry, caring for me when migraine pain attacks, persevering with hope when I was so sick after the birth of our son (that requires a love letter all its own!), giving of yourself to others, being such a great home repair guru, and for being such a great daddy to our children.  To see them so excited when you walk in the door is a clear reminder that you are loved, cherished, and rock their world.  Heck, even the dog gets excited when you get home.

And so do I.

I love you.

For husbands, this means love your wives, just as Christ loved the church. He gave up his life for her ²⁶ to make her holy and clean, washed by the cleansing of God’s word.^{[b] 27} He did this to present her to himself as a glorious church without a spot or wrinkle or any other blemish. Instead, she will be holy and without fault. ²⁸ In the same way, husbands ought to love their wives as they love their own bodies. For a man who loves his wife actually shows love for himself. ²⁹ No one hates his own body but feeds and cares for it, just as Christ cares for the church. ³⁰ And we are members of his body. -Ephesians 5:25-30

A few months before we were married...

A few months ago...

As we were worked on our floors yesterday (let me clarify – as my husband worked and I supervised), G somehow fell off the chair and hit his head.  He ran to me, I felt his head and felt nothing, so comforted him and sent him on his way.

I then ran a couple of errands for Chris.  (My supervisory role is demanding that way.)  When I finally returned home to stay a couple of hours later, I noticed blood on the couch and immediately checked G’s head.  Yup, a nice lump that was still bleeding.  A quick call to the ped’s office revealed that they had already taken their last patient for the day and they advised me to take him to the ER.

I knew everything would be fine, but better safe than sorry.  (No vomiting, no passing out, no wierd behavior other than being a four-year-old boy…)  I dreaded the drama that comes when you try to take care of his boo-boos.  He screams the house down.  I was imagining the army of medical personnel who would be called to restrain a writhing four year old boy just so they could clean up his head wound.

We are fortunate to live close to a modern and new (ie paperless, how cool is that?) ER and I braced myself for the onslaught of  cold and flu germs living there and walked in.  G turned on the sniffles and shaky chin and random tear down the cheek as I checked him in.  We got our cool blue matching ID bracelets and were called into triage a couple of minutes later.

And boy did he work it.  More quivering chin, random tear, hiccup.  Very sad face.  She’d ask a question and he’d look down with the saddest face in all creation and s….l….o….w….l…y  shake his head no.  Or Yes.  Or “Does it hurt a little or a lot?”  He’d look up and sniff and say in a little voice, “A lot.”

She let us know how long it would be before we’d probably be called (not long) and I asked G to tell her “thank you.”  He sadly shook his head “no.”  Slowly, sadly, dramatically.

A head injury is the only time I’ll let him get away with that!

We headed back out to the main waiting room where he sat right down and made himself content at one of those play tables with the maddening wood beads and metals tubes that go nowhere and everywhere all at the same time.  Soon enough his name was called, and mommy and son with the oh-so-cool matching blue bracelets (G thought it was a crime that mommy’s wasn’t purple) headed back to the Express Care section of the ER with John, the tech/nurse (I don’t remember his credentials).

G was all seriousness and smiles.  Tears were gone.

Huh? Had anyone seen my son?  The dramatic one?

He sat right down on the bed and pointed out yet another television in this fascinating place full of televisions.  John came right back in with the right stuff to wash out the mess on the back of his head…

…and G never budged.  Or cried.  He chattered away about bumping his head and the color of the shirt to the color of the towel (because we have different colors at home, you know).  Then the doctor-with-zero-bedside-manner came in and took a look at G’s head and poked and prodded and squeezed – goodness, my head was hurting after all that!  G was stellar – he never once complained.

I was a proud mommy.  A stunned mommy, but a proud mommy.

The doctor-with-no-smile then decided to glue his little wound so it would stop bleeding then we could be on our way.  I told G that it would be kind of like glueing his homework, which we had done that afternoon. G then launches into a whole new dialogue about the letter “F” (our homework from that day) to the doctor-with-no-kid-conversation-skills and Mommy served as a pseudo-translator and conversation partner.

With the glue firmly stuck in place, we paid and headed home, but we made the obligatory ice cream stop first.

This mommy is now wise to this kid’s charm with the ladies.  Watch out world.