We're Not Having Chicken and Dumplings for Dinner

The bullet briefing format isn't my best blogging, but I dare you to read it. You'll soon understand why this is the way it has to be.

*On Valentine's Day, I had been at work for all of three minutes when Goliath called me from the school nurse's office to tell me she thought he had pink eye and I needed to come pick him up.

*Was the nurse really so busy at 8:13 a.m. that she couldn't call me herself?

*I left work, drove back to the elementary school, fetched my son, dropped him off at home, and zoomed back to work. Yes, I left him home alone, and yes, I felt guilty about it.

*I also felt guilty about leaving preschool at 12:30 to take him to the doctor, but that was before I noticed that all preschool parents must have fed their 4-year-olds Valentine candy for breakfast.

*The classic-flavored Sweetheart candies are gross. Who wants to eat a banana-flavored heart with a corny suggestive saying on it? I much prefer the SweetTart hearts.

*A doctor visit confirmed pink eye.

*I asked the P.A. to make sure that she sent Goliath's prescription to our "new" Walgreens instead of the one by our old house. I sure didn't want to drive the three whole extra miles across town to get his eye drops! Then when I went to pick up the scrip, wouldn't you know that our "new" store was out of stock and the only Walgreens in the area that had it was--you guessed it--the one right by our old house.

*Administering eye drops to a ten-year-old is not much different from giving them to a toddler. He squeezes his eye shut at the last second every. single. time.

*I am in desperate need of a good hair color and cut.

*This morning I woke up honestly believing today was Saturday. What a letdown.

*I couldn't figure out why I would set my alarm for 5:15 on a Saturday, so I just turned it off and went back to sleep.

*Obviously, my morning didn't go well.

*I was so frazzled by it not being Saturday, the 'tude I got from my son, another son's missing pants, and the school lunch menu calling for turkey and bean nachos (really, LISD?), that I forgot to take my breakfast with me when I left for work.

*The only thing worse than that is that I realized later that I also failed to put dinner in the crock pot. Instead of chicken and dumplings, we ate scrambled eggs tonight.

*My Buck went to see an oral surgeon today. My mom sent me a pic of him in the chair. Not only is he SO cute, but he was wearing his Team Allyson bracelet.

*Confessions of a bad mom: Sometimes (like today) I will stay to "observe" Goliath's jiu jitsu class just so I can sit still for a little while and do nothing.

*More and more, I am noticing that Abby Dog can't hear very well. Today I walked in the house and she didn't even know I was there until I rubbed her ears.

*I think that all the preschool parents fed their four-year-olds leftover Valentine candy for breakfast today.

*I am seriously thinking about getting one of those "Children At Play" signs to set up by our house. We live on a corner lot, and people need to slow down.

*I let a roofer guy inspect our roof so we can get an estimate on damage from recent hail storms. I thought it was a good thing to do; Hubby said I should never do that again without talking to him first. I guess I should be more picky about who I let climb on our roof.

*Gus the Terrible made me SO MAD yesterday. If he busts through the back door one more time after it rains I swear that I am going to strap wet Swiffer pads to his paws and make him mop the floor.

*I stayed home with Goliath last night while everyone else went to church. I was pulling a few weeds in the front yard and I unearthed a Batman figurine, two Hot Wheel cars, a mangled Lego piece, and two worms.

*After lamenting to my sweet neighbor about my unfortunate day, I sent her this text a while ago: "And now, for my last trick of the day, I am going to breathe deeply so I don't kill the child who took a plate of ketchup out of the kitchen and dropped it on the stairs. Stupid day."

*Writing sentences is an effective punishment for one of our kids.

*Another one of our boys lost the privilege of hanging out with his buddy after school for three days. On the second day, the buddy came to the door and asked me if he could please, please come out to play because "I don't have anything else to do." Talk about guilt trip.

*I still said no, because that's just the kind of week it's been.

And They're Off!...Now What?

The day I've waited for and dreaded has come and gone! Look:

The three little cowboys have gone off to school. They walked into their new school on the first day together, and each one had a great day. In fact, pretty much every day so far has been a great day! According to Goliath, if "some dummy hadn't invented math, school would be just about perfect for me."

I was just as nervous as they were on the first day--maybe even more so. We had met all their teachers, purchased all their supplies, and ordered the backpacks they wanted. A side note about those school supplies: I finally wised up this year and bought the wrap packs. For the last four years I've nearly killed myself trying to recreate what I loved doing with my mom: picking out all of the school supplies and crossing things off the list and shopping for new clothes. With the boys, it was a beating. Boys just don't care. So I saved myself the heartache and frustration and just went with the PTA deal. It was the smart thing to do.

Where was I? Oh, yes. The first day. Not only did we start at a brand new elementary school, but Baby is a big kid now. My first thought when I woke up that morning was, "Today is our last first day of kindergarten." How did we get here?!?

He loves it. He doesn't seem to mind being away from me all day. He likes his teacher, all of the specials classes, and the playground. He loves the penguins that his teacher collects, the reading fort in his classroom, and his locker. He even likes homework (and he takes it very seriously). The only thing he doesn't care for at kindergarten is the kid that sits beside him because "he is not a good listener." On the 2nd day of school, Baby came home and announced that he had a new best friend at school. I asked what his name is, and my boy said, "I don't remember." Ha!

How about this guy? He's a proud 2nd grader. Get this...once upon a time, his teacher had ovarian cancer. That's no coincidence. Luckily, she no longer has cancer. Instead, she has a newt and some fish in her classroom, and that's all she needed to win Little Middle's heart.

And this one...my big 4th grader. Oh, the worry leading up to that first day! But turns out he needn't have worried much at all. He already knows several kids at school--one from flag football a few years ago, one who played on his kindergarten baseball team, and another little boy who he used to pal around with in preschool! He totally gets that God is taking care of him. His teacher couldn't be more perfect for him. She has a very cool, laid back personality, and from what Goliath reports, her classroom library is the best in the building!

So the boys are happy and thriving. Now what? The truth is that I'm having a bit of an identity crisis. Of course I don't sit around pining for them all day (well, I did on that first day, but I've gotten better), but it's so WEIRD. The house is quiet and still. There are no fights to break up, milk to be poured, or snacks to be fetched. All I've done for nearly ten years is have small people underfoot, and now I have all this T-I-M-E. I run errands. I grocery shop by myself (much easier and economical than going with the kids). I clean house and do laundry. Slowly, I am figuring it out. I have been invited to a mom's prayer group specifically for our elementary school. I have plans to have coffee with a neighbor who I'd like to get to know better. I have tried a few new recipes and last week I even went to see a movie! Maybe it's time to do a few Allyson things instead of a lot of Mommy things.

One of the things I love to do is teach, and not a moment too soon, preschool started back up yesterday! It was so strange to walk in by myself--I've had at least one little cowboy at preschool with me for the last eight years. The day went about as smoothly as a first day of preschool can go. I have delightful four-year-olds who are smart, curious, and a little noisy. I can't wait to see their eyes light up as they discover new things this year!

Baby really wanted me to have a good first day, so he helped make my lunch. Smile.

In other random H-family news, Abby Dog's 13th birthday quietly came and went. We didn't throw a big party, but her cousins Lucy and Moose were here visiting and we managed to make her feel plenty special. She is now 91 in people years--elderly by any standard. The boys occasionally ask me if she's going to die, to which I retort, "Of course not."

Little Middle hates spelling words, but still loves his Legos as much as ever! He nearly emptied his substantial Lego box building this skyscraper last week:

God and Mother Nature finally showed us some mercy here in North Texas with temperatures that were less than 100 degrees. On Labor Day, I took Little Middle and Baby out exploring in the "forest" behind their school. That water bottle Little Middle is holding contains a lizard that he caught. It is so gross and ugly, and right now it is in a box on my coffee table because LM was able to persuade me that he will get cold outside at night. Ick.

Goliath couldn't go on the adventure because he spent the weekend in bed with a lovely strep throat/sinus infection combination. And I would just like to say that no adventure compares with that of going to a pediatric urgent care clinic on a Sunday afternoon. Now, in spite of incessant hand-washing and mouth-covering, Hubby seems to have caught the germs. I'm trying not to inhale too deeply around here.

Now I'm off to get a head start on dinner. Ham and cheese pie is on the menu tonight. The only thing better than Southern Living is a good friend who reads it and passes along the best recipes!

Reflecting

Today I got to hold an hours-old baby. Everything else going on in that hospital room faded into background noise while I looked over Baby Kate's teeny tiny fingers and toes. Astonishing. I was privileged to be present while the big brother and big sister met their new baby sister for the first time. I got to hug my precious friend who, I swear, has been pregnant longer than anyone I've ever known through the hottest summer I can remember.

Every detail of my visit brought back every detail of my own babies. How good they smelled...how soft their skin was...the funny faces they made...how I loved to rock and sing to them. I remember the hospital stays--the visitors, the balloons and flowers, the Chick-Fil-A cravings, the tiny outfits, the pride and excitement.

I also remember the first night we had Goliath home with us, when I slept inches away from him for fear he would stop breathing. How my days and nights bled together with a newborn in the house. How my whole world suddenly revolved around feeding times and tummy gurgles. How I learned that there is no laundry detergent powerful enough to get out some baby stains. How I cooked dinner with one hand for years so that I could hold a baby boy with my other. How I obsessively tried to keep them on a good schedule, read them books, and take them outside every day, and how I beat myself up when I missed a day. How I feared failure more than anything...and still do.

When Baby was born, Goliath was not quite 4 and Little Middle was just 17 months old. I had my hands more than full. Those were the days when people at the grocery store gave me that "you're crazy" look. I walked blindly through those first years, kind of in a survival mode. I thought more than once that if I could just get them all sleeping through the night...drinking from a sippy cup...walking...sitting in a booster seat...down to one nap a day...out of the stroller...then I would have it made.

Now my Baby is going to kindergarten. Tiny onesies have long since been replaced by superhero t-shirts. We're down from 3 carseats to 1 small booster seat. Everyone drinks from a real cup and eats off of (gasp!) breakable plates. My baby days are well behind me.

But now I know better than to think that I have it made just because my babies are older. Yes, they are more independent in a lot of ways. But in some ways, they need me more than ever. And it's nice to be needed. Mothering is not for the faint of heart.

My mom tells me that as her children were growing, she always anticipated the next stage and enjoyed it more than the one before. Don't get me wrong--I am super-proud of my boys and the little people they are becoming. I wouldn't trade one crazy day in this zoo for anything. But I guess tonight I just feel a little nostalgic. Their little fingers wrapped so easily around my big one. I wish it could always be easy.

Every single night, I still check on each boy before I go to bed. I lay a hand gently on his chest to make certain of his steady breathing, and I plant a quiet kiss on his forehead. I get to be their mom. It was then, and always will be, the greatest joy of my life.

A Real Mom Kind of Day

I've never pretended to be something I'm not on here, so I will preface everything I want to say with a confession: I am drinking a glass of wine right now and it is the best thing that's happened to me today.

That being said, let's talk about my day. The alarm went off this morning, and I turned it off and went back to sleep. Yes, I set my alarm during the summer. It's weird, but I like being up early so I can enjoy a cup of coffee and quiet time before the monsters children get up. So the day was already off to a rocky start when I went in the kitchen late and it was a disaster from each boy getting their own breakfast. Um, hello? We own this great contraption called a trash can. It would be fabulous if someone besides me would use it to clean up after themselves.

The novelty of summer never lasts long, and I think I can safely say it's over around here. I had barely had two sips of coffee--not nearly enough for me to be patient--when I was surrounded by "Stop it!" "He took that away from me!" "I was here first!" "MOOOOMMM!!!" I'm not even kidding that I let them watch TV/play Wii/use the laptop for most of the rest of the morning.

Electronic Time was interrupted only by requests for snacks and me defending my recent hurried grocery trip. No, we don't have any more Gripz crackers. No, I forgot to replace the pretzels. No, I did NOT buy Fruit Roll Ups. (Why do they like those things anyway? They are so gross.)

Then it was time for lunch. We had to eat early today so we would have plenty of time to get Little Middle to Lego camp with his best and oldest buddy. Everyone wanted chicken nuggets. Everyone agreed that microwaved chicken nuggets were preferred over waiting for me to bake them in the oven. I left one brother in charge of lunch while I went to work on my wretched mop o' chemo curls, which led to me closing my bathroom door so I could say an unholy word to my hair in the mirror. When I returned to the kitchen, the brother in charge had fixed himself a plate and was happily eating while the other two were practically begging for food. I unleashed my wrath on him and said some unkind and hurtful things to him...which goes against the family rules that I constantly remind the boys are so important. Ugh.

I can not speak of the car ride to and from Lego camp. It was too ugly and involved too much shouting.

After Lego camp, we headed to the pool. Goliath reminded me that I am under doctor's orders not to go in the pool until Saturday, but I didn't care. That doctor doesn't have to stay home with three kids all day.

All three of my boys know how to swim. Well, Baby is still learning, but he is plenty tall enough now to touch the pool bottom in most areas. So I can't figure out why they must hang on me, cling to me, grab my legs, jump on my back, etc. while we are in the water. They don't NEED me. And it's not like I don't play with them there! I sure don't sit in a lounge chair like a lot of other mothers and watch them from a distance. I'm right there with them wherever they go. They're not even close to drowning, so I wish they would LET GO.

Goliath had to go to jiu jitsu, which required me to make elaborate arrangements with my friend at the pool, another friend whose son is in the same class, and Hubby. Three kids isn't really that many, but there are times (like today) when it feels like too many! I managed to get Goliath there on time, only to arrive and remember that I still had to sign him in. I had to go into the studio in my swimsuit cover-up and my semi-wet mop 'o curls. Awesome.

I went back to the pool and swam with Baby and Little Middle a while longer. Before I knew it, it was close to 7:00 and there was no way I would have time to cook. Chick-Fil-A for everyone! Oops. A few small someones might have been too busy complaining that there wasn't enough of their particular favorite sauce(s) to say "Thanks, Mom, for picking up dinner for us. We really appreciate all you do." Or maybe they were just too busy spilling 2 (!!!) glasses of water all over the table, floor, and each other.

Enter more brotherly bickering, a few more raised voices, tears, one go-to-your-room-and-don't-come-out-until-tomorrow-morning, and one removal of Wii privileges. I am flying the white flag of mothering...I surrender.

They're great kids (usually). I'm not a bad mom (usually). Just today was not our best...theirs or mine.

Thanks, Lord, for letting me be their mom. Thank you that when I wake up on time tomorrow morning, your mercies will be fresh and new. And thank you for wine. Amen.

Hunting Wabbits

What do you get if you give a little cowboy a small gun and plenty of wide open space?

Peace and Quiet

It's Saturday night. My little cowboys are in West Texas starting their summer off right with their grandparents. Hubby is watching the UFC fight at his brother's house. Abby Dog and I shared a Schlotzsky's sandwich and now we are catching up on my recorded DVR shows and enjoying the peace and quiet.

I deserve some peace and quiet, if you don't mind my saying so. We bought a new house and moved. Preschool ended and I watched my Baby graduate. I kept on dragging Goliath and Little Middle out of bed and to school every day, long after every other school district in Texas was done. I had a less-than-enjoyable doctor visit (I am fine.). Finally--FINALLY--Summer 2011 is here! I usually am not a fan of summer. It's way too hot and there is a little too much quality time with the kids. But this year, I am more than ready.

The last day of school was tough. Because of our move, the boys will attend a different elementary school next year. I have done everything possible to get them excited: We visited the school book fair and bought--what else?--Star Wars books. We took a tour of the campus and met the counselor and the principal. We admired the playground. But I know that none of those things make it easy for my sons to leave behind their friends and favorite teachers. There were tears in all of our eyes when we walked out of the doors of their school for the last time.

We celebrated the end of school by heading straight to the pool. The first swim of the season was great! It's already 100+ degrees here. You know what they say about Texas...we have four seasons here: Almost Summer, Summer, Still Summer, and Christmas. Anyway, Baby was triumphant at the pool when I showed him that he is finally tall enough to touch the pool bottom in the lazy river, and that he is tall enough to go down one of the big slides. Victory! Now if we can just get him swimming confidently like his brothers...

We love, love, LOVE our new house. It is nearly twice as big as our old one. Each of the boys has their own bedroom, and they are really enjoying having their own space. I have a huge bathtub, a kitchen with two ceiling fans and more than enough cabinet space, and a laundry room that is an actual room. That hasn't endeared me more to the laundry chore, but it makes it a little easier to keep up! We have nice neighbors and fruit trees in the backyard. Our own little piece of paradise...aaahhh. Of course, no experience in this family is complete without some sort of mishap. We had lived here almost three weeks when our washing machine went berserk and we had a flood. The water in the laundry room was deep enough to cover the top of my foot when I was standing in it. Even worse, the Gain-smelling river ran straight into the hall where we have wood floors. I ran around town like a crazy person before I finally landed at Home Depot, where I rented a wet-vac and made friends with a sympathetic old man with chewing tobacco in his back pocket. With a little help from my good friend Momma Wolg, I managed to suck up the water, but not before it damaged the flooring. The silver lining: My feet smelled nice and felt super-soft from all that sloshing around.

Things have been pretty quiet here in CancerLand. Back in the spring, I went to M.D. Anderson in Houston. MDA has been on my radar for a while, but I haven't felt well enough to make the trip for quite some time. My reason for finally going was two-fold: One, I wanted/needed to get a second opinion about "what's next?" and two, MDA is renowned for their clinical trials and experimental drugs to treat cancer. Having been assured that cancer will forever be a threat, I want in on that action! I spent nearly a week there and during that time, I had every test and met with every specialist imaginable. At the end of the week, I was informed that without a doubt, cancer is not currently present in my body. I worked out a plan to return for scans and to remain under "surveillance" by the staff there. And, I asked about and gratefully accepted a prescription for a drug that I hope will keep cancer at bay for a while. The drug is an anti-estrogen--theoretically, the less estrogen that my body produces, the less chance there is that cancer cells will be able to feed and grow. Nothing is guaranteed, of course, but it would be silly and irresponsible for me to not explore any and all options.

My news about MDA was not greeted with the enthusiasm I had hoped for by Dr. M here in Dallas. In spite of that, he will be performing yet another surgery on me next week to remove my chemo port. I can't say that I'm excited about surgery, but I will be thrilled to have that thing out of my body! Hopefully I won't need one ever again.

With the little boys out of town for a few days, I've had time to explore a new obsession: Pinterest. PandaMom gave me a few pointers, and I am well on my way to digital organization! It makes me feel all artsy and crafty, which I am NOT in real life. Still, it's nice to imagine that one day I might be able to bake a pink heart into the center of my plain-Jane cupcakes or make a wreath out of crayons for Teacher Appreciation week.

Every year I buy Little Middle a new pair of flip flops, and every year he wears them for just a few weeks before he breaks them. Every. Single. Year. When I went to his class party on the last day of school, he was barefoot because his shoe had broken. So I gave up and I bought him a more solid, pricier pair. If they don't last him the rest of the summer, he's just gonna have to wear tennis shoes. That might have sounded heartless when I said it out loud when pulling out of the store parking lot, but Baby assured me, "You're the best mommy we could ever have." Little Middle retorted, "Yeah, but that's 'cause she's the ONLY mommy we can ever have."

And on that note, I'm gonna go enjoy my peace and quiet. Happy Summer!

They're Different, All Right!

I am constantly amazed at the very distinct personalities that my 3 little cowboys have. In spite of their close ages and relationships, they are not as similar as you would think. Here are a few ways they are different, and how we celebrate them (usually)!

Sandwiches
Goliath: Salami with mustard
Little Middle: Turkey with mayonnaise
Baby: Cheese with mayonnaise

Music
Goliath: Likes to sing
Little Middle: Would rather eat dirt than go to choir
Baby: To sing or not to sing?...that is the question.

Big Issues
Goliath: Worries. About. Everything.
Little Middle: Goes with the flow.
Baby: Lets everyone else do the worrying for him.

Animals
Goliath: Horses
Little Middle: Dogs
Baby: Buffaloes and longhorns

Hobbies
Goliath: cooking, hunting, and cooking what he hunts
Little Middle: hunting, fishing, and Legos
Baby: video games

Reading
Goliath: Loves it!
Little Middle: Can, but doesn't want to.
Baby: Doesn't know how.

Chick-Fil-A Sauce
Goliath: Ranch
Little Middle: Ketchup
Baby: Polynesian

Clothes
Goliath: khaki shorts and t-shirts
Little Middle: "soft" shorts and Star Wars t-shirts
Baby: jeans and cowboy boots

Favorite Thing to Do With Mom
Goliath: Get ice cream at Marble Slab
Little Middle: Roller skating
Baby: Playing Wii

Favorite Thing to Do With Dad
Goliath: Riding horses
Little Middle: Hunting
Baby: Playing Wii

Playtime
Goliath: Jump on the trampoline
Little Middle: Lego
Baby: Anything outside

Movies
Goliath: Bronco Billy
Little Middle: Star Wars
Baby: Rango

One Word
Goliath: Passionate
Little Middle: Sweet
Baby: Funny

Wordless Wednesday

Lines That Made Me Laugh

Little Middle, upon being sent to his room: "Oh, pickles and prune juice!"


Baby: "Mommy, you are a female and females are bad guys."


Baby, while playing the Wii with his brother: "We can't kill that guy because he is music-activated."

Little Middle, after waking from a rare afternoon nap: "Mom, is today still yesterday? You forgot to wear new clothes."

Away

The holidays are upon us, ready or not. The little cowboys and I hightailed it out of the Big D and are spending the week in Houston with my parents. All we're missing is Hubby. He's working, but will join us for Thanksgiving later in the week.

To be honest, I've dreaded the thought of the holidays. The shopping, the cooking, the traveling, the decorating, the entertaining--it all seems so overwhelming. That is why this trip feels like an escape. There is no agenda except to enjoy just being.

Yesterday I spent the day with my boys. I was purposeful about being with them, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. I really wanted to listen to what they had to say and be part of their experience--not just an observer. We played at the park, where we fed some ducks and rescued a turtle. I let them choose where we ate lunch (Burger King--ack!), and then we did some shopping at the dollar store. We walked the mall and had some ice cream in the food court. We rode the escalators just for the fun of it, and enjoyed the massage chairs in Macy's. We finished the day by playing in the playscape at Nana's church. We were hot and tired, but oh, so happy.

It's been a long time since I had a day like that with all three of my sons. There were no distractions, no places to be, no obligations. Just us. I am glad to be away. And I am so glad I got the reminder that there is so much to be thankful for this week: I am doing exactly what I want to do, and there could not be three more wonderful people for me to do it with.

P.S. I took great pictures yesterday. They would look super filling up this space. Unfortunately, Little Middle dropped my camera on the tile floor last night and now all I have is a flashing message that says "Lens Error: 211." Hubby, do you think you can fix it? Please?

A Taste of Normal

What a difference a week makes! I spent today with my little cowboys, doing the "mom thing." We went to their elementary school carnival, then rushed to make it to Little Middle's soccer game. It was the last game of the season--I wouldn't have missed sitting in a lawn chair on that muddy field for anything! We grabbed a quick lunch at Sonic, and headed back to the carnival to play all the games that we had missed earlier in the day. We now have more Skittles and Pixie Stix than I know what to do with...not to mention the make-your-own-snowcone stand. Goliath mixed as many flavors as he could get his hands on: Tiger's Blood, Limealicious, and Blue Raspberry, to name a few. Yuck.

After the carnival, I took Goliath and Little Middle to a friend's birthday party. I loved watching them play and helping them win tickets in the arcade. Did you know that you can get a lot of those mini-erasers and Tootsie Rolls (2 tickets each) in exchange for 353 tickets? A LOT.

After all that, we finished the day with pizza and a Phineas and Ferb marathon. Phineas and Ferb is hilarious. It seriously makes me laugh out loud.

I loved this day, not just because of the quality time I spent with my boys, but because of how normal I felt. What I feel privileged to be able to do today are the same things I never thought twice about before The Sickness...and sometimes even dreaded doing. Funny how my perspective, along with everything else in my life, has been altered.

Goliath is old enough to voice his own bedtime prayers. This is what he said to God tonight: "Dear God, thank you for my fun day today. Thank you for making Mommy feel better and please help her to remember to bring socks the next time we go to Going Bonkers so she can go on the slide with me. Amen."

Normal, even a taste, is very nice.

Happy Mother's Day!

I love Mother's Day because it is the perfect day to celebrate the greatest gift God has ever given me: motherhood.

I also love it because I can count on the boys to tell me what they really think about me. This is how Baby answered the annual Mother's Day questionnaire at preschool:

My mom's name is Allyson.

She is one years old,

and weighs ten pounds.

Her eyes are blue,

and her hair is brown.

Her favorite color is purple.

She loves to eat!

While I'm at school, she messes around,

and she just loves to eat macaroni.

Little Middle dictated this to his teacher:

My mom is good at dancing!

I love my mom because she is so nice.

She rests so she can play with us.

My mom loves me because we are nice to her and she loves all of us.

She plays games with me and takes me to the park.

I love my mom!

Of course, not every day is a good day. There are a lot of days I feel like I'm just barely surviving, and none of us are thriving.

Goliath drew this picture to hang on his door on one such day.

But every single night, the last thing I do before I go to bed is check on my sons. I make sure they are breathing just like I did when they were infants. (Will I ever stop doing that?) I tuck the covers in around them, gently touch their little foreheads, and whisper a prayer of thanksgiving that somehow, God saw fit to allow me to be their mom.

Wordless Wednesday

Wanting to Worship

I am spending a lazy Sunday afternoon in my polka-dot pajamas, curled up in my bed. Outside the window, I am watching the last of a Texas spring snow melt away and trying not to think about how much I enjoyed the 70 degree temperatures less than 48 hours ago. In the other room, I can hear the little cowboys cheering and jeering their way through a new Wii game. Hubby is passing back and forth, cleaning out cabinets--due in part to boredom, and in part to a need for some spring cleaning around here. He's a good, good man.

This morning I got up early, got all fancied up in my best jeans, and headed to the church house. I haven't been to church in a month, and I HAVE MISSED IT. I am of the opinion that the command God gives us to "not give up meeting together" (Hebrews 10:25) is a lovely one indeed. We love our church. I was glad to be there when my boys practically skipped into their classrooms. I was glad to be there when I got hugs from friends, big and small, who I haven't seen in a while. I was glad to be there when "my" usher, Mr. Bill (who keeps mini chocolate bars in his coat pocket to give to the kids each week), opened the door for me and when I made eye contact with precious Ms. Dessie over the balcony railing and blew her a kiss. I was glad to be there to sing the words of the great hymn "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing." I was glad to be there to hear a sermon on what authentic worship is and what it is not.

I jotted this tidbit down in my notes: "Worship is done everywhere--even in the middle of crisis and disaster." What a timely reminder! I will be mindful of that when I go back to the oncology office on Wednesday for a chemotherapy teaching session. This session, slated to last 1 1/2 hours, will be Hubby and me and my parents, learning everything we ever wanted (or did not want) to know about chemo. She will tell us when my chemo sessions will be, what to expect, and what they think the drugs will or will not do to my body. They say that information is power, but I am scared of what I will learn at that appointment. I don't want to find out about a chemotherapy protocol that has been specially designed for me. I don't even want it to exist!

Even more than that, I dread what must happen after the appointment on Wednesday. Hubby and I must sit down with our sons and try to explain chemotherapy to them. I have the same knot in my stomach that I had four weeks ago when we told them that the cancer had returned. How can I explain to my children that the only way to fight is with more sickness? This seems even more complicated after a conversation I had with Goliath yesterday. He and I went out in the snow yesterday afternoon to run a few errands, and on our way back I stopped at the dry cleaners to pick up some clothes we had waiting there. It went something like this:

Goliath: Mom, what are we doing here?

Me: I need to pick up these sweaters so Dad has them for church tomorrow.

Goliath: Why are we going to church tomorrow?

Me: Ummm...because we always go to church. We haven't been able to go for a few weeks, but it's important that we are there to learn and worship.

Goliath: We just didn't go because of your surgery.

Me: That's right, buddy. Goliath, do you think that God stopped loving me because I got sick?

Goliath: Noooooo...

Me: And do you think that God stopped loving you and your brothers and your dad because you feel sad about me?

Goliath: Nooooo...that's not how it works. But Mom, I don't know why we have to talk about this, because you're not sick anymore.

My sons believe that I am well. They understand that I am not 100%--they see me resting and taking medicine--but as far as we can tell, they think that my release from the hospital meant that the cancer is over. This week will be a bad surprise for them.

This disease is my crisis, my own personal disaster. I am sad and scared. But in spite of that, I want to worship. I want to show my sons what real worship looks like, so they can draw from that when they are ready. God is not contained by my cancer or boxed in by my sorrow. His goodness and loving kindness reach far beyond my weakness. Even when I am hurting, I will choose to worship. Streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise. He is so worthy!

"I will praise you, O Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonders. I will be glad and rejoice in you; I will sing praise to your name, O Most High." Psalm 9:1-2

Today's Blog Post is Brought to You By the Letter "C"

Cowboys

Creation

Crazy

Canine Companion

Caroline

Cute

Cookies and Caring

Crying, Cancer, Chemotherapy

Halloween 2009

A Harley biker, a pirate, and a penguin walked into a bar....

Just kidding.

We had a spooktacular Halloween! My little biker, pirate, and penguin joined forces with some friends for trick-or-treating.

We hit up our neighborhood first, then moved to theirs--twice the fun, and twice the candy!

The funniest part of the evening came from a neighbor who set up a coffin in his driveway. He dressed in a scary mask and black robes and lay in the coffin, waiting to terrorize small children. Not knowing that there was anything to be afraid of, Goliath reached in to take some candy, and the "dead" guy reached out and grabbed his leg! Goliath jumped ten feet while his brothers and their pals screamed. The adults were laughing too hard to be much comfort...

P.S. The pictures are weird, I know. Our camera is acting up, and we had to take most of our Halloween pics with Hubby's iPhone.

Funny Kids

They've said some crazy stuff today...

Me: Baby, how did you get that hurt on your chin?
Baby: I had a great fall like Humpty Dumpty.

Me (playing our usual car game): Slug bug blue!
Little Middle: Mommy, I am SHOCKED!

Goliath: Mom, it's sad that there are not very many bats left here in the tri-state area.

Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails...

Life with 3 little cowboys is always an adventure! Look what they found in the backyard today:

Yes, those are snakes. And yes, they think it's funny to see their mom scream and run.

Wordless Wednesday