Appliances

It's a bad time to be an appliance in our household. Last weekend, our vacuum cleaner broke. By broke, I mean there was a horrible smell, we shut off the power, and there was literally a cloud of smoke (or was that dust?) in the room.

Yesterday, big storms rolled through Texas. As I was drifting off to sleep last night to the sound of the repeated tornado and flash flood warnings, I was thinking to myself how glad I am we were not one of those neighborhoods affected by power outages. Apparently, our neighborhood is on the "shut off the power after the rain stops falling" list. I woke up at 1 a.m. when the electricity went off, nearly broke my toe trying to find the TXU phone number using my cell phone for a flashlight, and laid awake until it came back on at 3 a.m. During those 2 angry hours, I contemplated how really angry I would be if all the food in my refrigerator went bad.

Good thing the food was saved, because as it turned out, the power outage shorted out my hair dryer. I will wake up tomorrow armed with a prayer that nothing else goes wrong and a brand new hair dryer.

Our New Addition

It was an exciting weekend around our house. For the past while, Goliath has been working above and beyond the regular list of household duties, taking on several jobs that used to belong to his dad. They include taking out the trash, vacuuming the toy room, and cleaning up after the dog outside. (I graciously offered some "mom jobs" i.e. dishes, laundry, packing school lunches...but somehow I'm still doing all those myself!) He has been collecting a modest allowance, which he was saving to get a pet. He REALLY wanted a pet of his very own, so we agreed that if he could pay for it, he could have it. We did not anticipate that he would save so much money so quickly!

Anyway, Saturday was the day. There were some limitations to what sort of pet he could choose: no dogs (we have one), no cats (don't like 'em), and nothing slimy/reptilian/beady-eyed/bug-eating (icky). Hubby was reminding him of Mommy's pet rules as they were leaving for the pet store, and I heard him come back in calling for me. "Mommy, what kind of pet do you like?" he asked. "Well, I guess I would like something cute and furry," I said. "Then that's what I'll get because I love you, Mom!" Awww.

An hour later, they're back with a guinea pig. My brother and I both had guinea pigs when we were kids, so that was great with me. Goliath named his new friend Lenny ("Wonder Pets" anyone?). Lenny is all black except for one white front leg. He is cute, and Goliath adores him. We set up the cage in his bedroom, and Goliath has been taking good care of him. Lenny chews on stuff, plays with his toys, eats lots of carrots, and is gradually making himself at home in his new home. So far, the only problem has been Baby discovering that he can climb on a chair and open Lenny's cage. We will be making a trip to the hardware store this week to buy a lock!

School Lunches

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. It's been a combination of a couple of things: a) there's nothing really exciting going on, and b) if there were, I wouldn't have had time to blog about it anyway!

If you know me or you read my profile, you know that I teach preschool part-time. It's a good arrangement, really...I get out of the house and do something I love, yet I'm still close to my boys, and the boys go to school at half-price tuition! (Stuff like that really matters when you have as many kids as we do.) We have school on Mondays and Fridays, so Sunday and Thursday nights are prep time. That means loading up backpacks, gathering nap mats, and packing lunches. The task of making school lunches is daunting to me. It ranks right up there on my list with scrubbing toilets or folding laundry. I hate deciding what everyone will eat and I'm always wondering if the teacher will think I'm a terrible mother if I send a cookie for dessert or a CapriSun instead of bottled water?!?!? To complicate matters, Goliath can be described as a picky eater. For the first 5 years of his life, he would not eat sandwiches. Or pizza. Or corn dogs on a stick. Think about it...what else IS there for a kid to eat? Chicken nuggets: check. Hot dogs (minus the bun): check. Fish sticks: check. That's about it.

Almost overnight, though, his tastes have changed. Suddenly, it's, "Mommy, can we order pizza tonight for dinner?" "Mom, I'll make myself a turkey sandwich for lunch." "I want a bun for my hot dog, please!!!" This pleasant turn of events has opened up a whole new world for me on Sunday and Thursday nights. Tonight, I made 2 lunches that were identical: PB&J sandwiches, carrot sticks, Cheetos, and gigantic marshmallows. It was so much easier! Now, if I can just get Picky Eater Baby to try something besides strawberry yogurt and fruit snacks...

Happy Easter

When I survey the wondrous cross

On which the Prince of glory died

My richest gain I count but loss

and pour contempt on all my pride.

See, from His head, His hands, His feet

Sorrow and love flow mingled down.

Did e'er such love and sorrow meet

Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were a present far too small.

Love, so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Happy Easter!

Small Miracle

Most of our friends and family have prayed us through the last 9 months with our baby. He suffered constant ear infections, had tubes put in, stayed sick, and endured trial-and-error cocktails of assorted medications. Two weeks ago we saw our ENT for what I hoped would be a final visit. Baby has been surprisingly healthy for a couple of months; I prayed for a clean bill of health and a release form. Instead, I got an audiologist telling me that Baby's hearing is questionable at best and the doctor recommending an invasive test requiring general anesthesia. Since then, I have been a wreck. Our friends and family are praying again, and I spend a great deal of time following Baby around the house, listening hard for any intelligible word or a sign that he comprehends what I say to him. Tonight, while he was eating the head off of a dinosaur chicken nugget, I was chatting at him about animal sounds. "Baby, what does a chicken say?" I am so used to him not responding that I almost missed it: "Bock bock," said he. "Baby, what does a cow say?" "MOOO." Never before has a chicken noise sounded so sweet, and I doubt that the moo of a cow will ever again bring me to tears. This precious communication does not mean we are out of the woods, but it is definitely an answer to this mommy's prayer.

Oh, To Be a Carrot

Little Middle is 3, and a birthday means a trip to the doctor. We went yesterday for a well check-up. Our pedatrician is wonderful, and her office is as fun and comfortable as it could possibly be. Each treatment room has large murals painted on the walls in kid-friendly themes. We particularly love the Clifford room, the Curious George room, and the hot air balloon room (where I have spent HOURS with Baby's infected ears). Yesterday the nurse put us in the Peter Rabbit room, which has the unfortunate tale of Peter's disregard for his mother's instruction painted around the room with illustrations. We have been reading the same book at home recently, with Easter coming up, so the boys were thrilled.

Dr. B came in and examined Little Middle, proclaiming him healthy and growing. Just as she was leaving, he leaned over and said, "Dr. B...can I tell you a whisper? When I grow up, I want to be a carrot." I am praying he was temporarily swayed by Peter Rabbit's presence and that he aims higher than that when the time comes. In the meantime, our reputation at the ped's office continues to grow...