Latest Boogieism

I tell ya, this girl is just full of funny stuff. My other two were very sharp too, but I never had the smarts to write the funny stuff down.

In a conversation today...

Boogs: "Hey mom, can I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"
Me: "Sure"
Boogs: "Wow, this looks really good. Mmmm...it tastes good too. Is this no-bake toast?"
Me: "Why yes, yes it is!

Makes sense to me!

Boogieisms

For those who might remember, Boogie attends Princess school. For a while, she had quit going to Princess School because the kids there used such bad language. They actually said Pee and poop quite a bit, which offended Boogie. She left the school and started Fairy School. After going for about 2 weeks, she decided that the kids had cleaned up their language enough to start back at Princess School.

Yesterday Boogie and I took a little road trip. I asked her how her Princess School was going. Her response:

"Mom, remember my friend Hannah?"

Me: "Hannah who?"

Boogs: "You know, Hannah Poblis from Princess School?"

Me: "I don't remember meeting her...but any way, tell me about
Hanna Poblis"
Boogs: "She picks her nose with her tongue."

How do you respond to that? This girl slays me with her imagination. She gives her imaginary classmates first and last names and super power abilities! A beautiful princess in training who picks her nose with her tongue.

But Where's the Doors Daddy?

While helping her dad review some prints for a new Applebee's, Boogie is quite perplexed...

"But Where's the Doors, Daddy?"

She was having a difficult time finding the way in. If that were the only hurdle to overcome when working on a bid!

What I love about being a Mom

Someone had a great idea of a way to encourage Tricia. They listed the things that are great about being a mom, the things that they couldn't wait for Tricia to experience. My list is a little different, as my babies are really no longer babies. Here are some of the things I love about being a mom...

• Standing back and watching your child give one of his Awana trophies to someone who didn't earn it just because he didn't need 2
• Having your little one wrap her arms around your neck, smothering your face in kisses telling you that she "loves you way waaay waaaay more"
• The smell of a baby fresh out of the tub all slathered in lotion
• A big brother as he picks up and comforts his little sister after she falls
• Overhearing little conversations while your two little girls are in the shower
• Conversations with imaginary friends
• Hearing your own words of comfort and kindness in your children when they are playing with their own babies
• Watching your child conquering one of his or her fears
• Seeing your child(ren) as they wobble along on their bicycle for the first time without training wheels
• That look on Christmas morning
• Praying your daughter through her first piano recital
• Watching your children in their school plays
• Having your child comfort you as you are walking him or her to the door of the Kindergarten classroom (I totally cried)
• Seeing them at the end of the day waving goodbye to all of their friends at school
• The healing power of your kisses when your child gets an owie
• Hearing from those that work with your children that they are kind, caring and respectful
• Being there when your child trusts Christ for the first time and watching them being baptized
• The little noises, smiles and sighs a baby makes while sleeping
• The look of love in the eyes of a baby when he or she spots mom from across the room
• Hearing your children's prayers
• The first rollercoaster ride
• A walk in the woods becomes part of an action adventure movie
• Catching his or her first fish

Friendly Competition

I think "The Fever" has finally hit everyone in the house. One of the side effects of this fever is an increase in the flow of testosterone in the home. This said "Fever" has brought out a sense of competitiveness resulting in a contest of sorts.

The competitors....

Weighing in at an impressive....Naah, he'd kill me if I broadcasted his weight to the world...My handsome husband...yes, he is playing with the cat & no, the cat is not the other competitor, I had to recycle a photo from the other day. He hates it when I take his picture.

In the other corner we have Big Brother. He's been pulling back a bow for one season now. He
makes bales of straw all over the back yard quake with fear...The contest: Who can hold the bow back the longest.

Steven skillfully pulls back his bow...

Not to be outdone, Big Brother, too draws his bow. Notice the stern look of determination as he focuses in on a target...

Be Afraid...

So after a few minutes, fatigue and giggles set in.

C'mon Dad! My arm is killing me...

Is Big Brother losing his resolve and this contest?

Not this time! Just seconds after this shot, Dad got a cramp in his elbow and had to throw in the towel, leaving the big brother the winner of this contest!

Attack of the Rogue Sharpie

To look at Boogie, she appears to be so sweet, so innocent. Her eyes sparkle and drink you right in. Her long eyelashes and her beautiful smile pretty much render a person useless. It is hard to say no to her. It is also hard not to believe every word she says...she just looks that sweet. Even with an orange juice mustache. So, when I saw the sharpie and ink on her shirt, I naturally had to ask if she was writing on her shirt. She just gave me the smile you see in the first picture.

She figured that since I liked that so much, she would show me the rest of her artwork.
She slowly unveils her canvas....

Only to reveal that she didn't do it! She tried to tell me that sissy held her down and drew all over her belly.

I asked if she was telling stories, she sweetly said yes.

She really didn't know how that got there. Evidently I have a rogue Sharpie and an ink pen on the loose...a regular modern day Bonnie and Clyde...marking up bellies everywhere with color...They must have held her down and drawn all over her. See picture number one...look at those eyes. Would they lie?

Birth Story 2

My second pregnancy was pretty uneventful. I had the usual morning sickness, aches, pains, etc. The only difference was the fact that I had a choice to make. In consulting with my doctor, he indicated that a repeat c-section was advisable considering the circumstances of my first birth. He said that I had a very small pelvic region and if my 2nd baby was as big as the first, my labor would be in vain, but it was my choice. If I wanted to try a vbac he would let me do it. Not being one who likes to prolong the agony or labor for hours on end only to have a c-section anyway, I decided to schedule a 2nd surgery. The spinal went much better this time around. Bob was there for this surgery, too...I even remembered not to wear my bra! I still got sick during the entire surgery, but ended up fine in the end. I can remember sitting up in the recovery room asking for biscuits and gravy. I was starving!

Flash forward a few years...I found myself pregnant again with number 3. It was one of those kind of surprises. Something planned, but not planned. My husband and I were content with the 2 that we had. To show God that I was serious about being content, I sold all of my baby stuff thinking that He would understand that we were okay with a family of 4.

The funny part of this story involved the my 2 older children. I was driving up I-75. I was dropping them off at a friend's house. I was getting ready to attend a funeral. The kids were talking in the back asking questions about the funeral, the deceased, God, the sky...you know, typical kid stuff. All of a sudden they hit me with the "We want a brother or a sister." I politely told them that babies are a special gift from God and that if they want a baby, they would have to pray for one, thinking that they would just drop it and move on. Right then and there, both children offered up a special prayer right in the back seat of my truck. Big brother prayed for a little brother and sissy prayed for twin girls to help her clean her room.

Up until this point I had no real reason to suspect that I was pregnant. I was a little bit late, but with me, that was not uncommon. I never really worked like clockwork. The day after this little prayer from my children, I woke up feeling very sick to my stomach and "the girls" were very sensitive. I kept thinking to myself, "Nah, I can't be..."

On a whim, I bought a pregnancy test and sure enough, I was pregnant! We decided early on to not find out what we were having. After all, I was going to have another c-section. If I knew what I was having I could have the birth announcements pretty much made a month ahead of time! We figured we would just be surprised.

Sissy and Big Brother argued for most of the 9 months about the baby. Sissy was very adamant that the baby was going to be a girl, because that is what she prayed for. She would not entertain for a second the thought that it could be a boy. Around my 8th month in a moment of weakness, I asked my OB nurse if we were having a girl or a boy because regardless of whether I find out or not, it is in my chart. My husband and I decided that we would find out so that if Sissy was wrong, we could gently prepare her for a boy in the few weeks remaining. The nurse mouthed the word boy to me from the door.

I only shared that knowledge with my husband. We didn't do any special preparations, like buying boy clothes or putting out boy clothes in the dresser. We did talk to Sissy and tell her that although she prayed for a girl that it was always a possibility that this could be a brother, after all, Big Brother prayed too.

The time finally came for the c-section. I ended up in a different hospital this time. No crazy anesthesiologist named Bob to give me my spinal. No bra flinging...no hysteria. I ended up having a team of 2 (one was completing her schooling) anesthesiologists that came for a consult before the operation. I expressed my concerns over how sick I get during my surgeries. I also expressed concern for my husband, who up until this point had never gone in on a c-section. My mom had always gone. He is one of those people who faints at the sight of a needle and the smell of a hospital. With a plan in hand for all my concerns we prepped for surgery...

My 2 anesthesiologists were awesome. They installed an air curtain that blew either warm or cold air on me. They both stood at my head and talked to both my husband and me. At the very second I started to feel nauseous they administered medicine. We laughed and joked for a while. My husband was doing great! At some point we asked when they were going to start. Little did we know that the surgery was almost over! Finally the baby was born. The nurse gently placed the baby over the curtain, then took her to the nursery without really saying whether it was a boy or a girl. She must have thought that we already knew. Steve and I looked at each other and asked the anesthesiologists what we had. They replied that they saw girl parts. We were stunned. "Really? Are you sure? Girl parts?" We were prepared for a boy, settled on our boy name. The one drug doctor went and found out and returned...Yep, it's a girl. At this time, I am still on the table getting stitched up. Steve suddenly began to not feel so well. I told him it was okay to go and see the baby. When he stood up from his stool he began to feel queasy. The 2 drug administering doctors told him to sit back down and that they would wheel him out on his stool. They did not want to chance him passing out and hurting himself. He sat back down, a little embarrassed and went to meet his new daughter. She ended up being the smallest of the three weighing a 7 lbs and 1/2 oz...
Moral of the story: Never dismiss the prayers of small children.

My Birth Story...

Evidently there is some sort of contest having to do with sharing your birth story.

Here's the rules:

Post your birth/adoption stories on YOUR blog, and post a link to Michelle's blog. If you do not have your own blog, but would still like to participate, you may post your birth story in the comments section of Michelle's blog here. Don't forget to post a link in the comments on Michelle's blog, or else she won't know you posted a story...Michelle will pick ONE story each day to be "showcased" the next day on her blog. At the end of the contest (which runs until 2/26). On 2/27, we will get to vote on the showcased stories, and on 2/28, Michelle will announce the winner on her Gabbin' Mama blog.

Just because I am a follower and pretty much do what I am told to do without a lot of fussing, I am posting my birth story.

Steven and I had bathed this pregnancy in prayer. Each morning I would pray that I would have a boy, that he would have blond hair and blue eyes, that he would be healthy and that I would have a natural delivery. At the time, we had insurance, but it did not cover pregnancy. I had made arrangements with my OBGYN to pay cash for his services at a discounted rate and had paid for the special delivery at McLaren. For a mere $1100.00 you got an overnite stay in a luxurious birthing suite, meals, meds care for yourself and the baby. What a deal!

I was fast approaching my due date. I had about 8 days to go. Steven was playing basketball one Monday night with some of the youth from church. I am not sure what funky move it was that he made, but he heard a pop and was immediately on the floor not really able to walk or stand straight. For those of you who know my husband, he has not been blessed with a good back. This particular night he threw his back out. I remember my father-in-law and another friend coming into the house one on each side of Steven helping him walk through the door. I was mortified. Here I am...big as a house, feeling like I was ready to pop, and here is my husband who can't stand up straight or take off his shoes, dress himself...you get the picture. I spent that night on the livingroom floor with him. You have to remember I was in my mid-20's. Pregnancy and flexiblity were much easier then. I could sleep anywhere! The next day I remember driving him to the doctor, helping him to get dressed...the whole 9 yards. By Wednesday, he had started to feel a little better...especially with the help of pain meds. He could walk better and could even dress himself.

Wednesday evening we were laying on the floor talking. My chocolate lab Emmi was at my side all night long. She would not leave my side. If I got up to get a drink...she got up to get a drink. If I went to the bathroom, she was right there beside me. I thought it very odd, as she was usually my husband's dog. She liked me, but LOVED Steven. She would not leave me alone that night. I didn't think too much about it...

...Until about 11:30 that night. I woke up having to go to the bathroom very bad, you know, the first trip of many through the night spaced at 2-2 1/2 hour intervals. I sat down to pee and got back up when I was finished only to find that I started going again. I was pretty groggy at the time and really didn't know what was going on. I just thought to myself, "Great, another joy of pregnancy they don't tell you about...you lose all bladder control at the end." So I sat back down. The "peeing" stopped. I stood back up again...the "peeing" started again. I probably stood up and sat down about 6 times before it finally dawned on me that my water had broke. After an eternity in the bathroom, I finally waddled across the hall to find some pads to help with my little leakage problem. Being the big procrastinator I am (I still had a week left) I set about trying to pack a bag for myself and for the baby.

I waddled down the hall to our bedroom in the perfect picture of calmness and pulled the blankets over Steven's head so as not to wake him up when I turned on the light (what was I thinking?). For whatever reason he woke up anyway and asked me what on earth I was doing. I told him that I thought that my water had broke and I was just getting some stuff ready to go to the hospital. I can't say that he jumped out of bed, as he was still nursing a bad back, but he sprang to life and started playing the part of the nervous dad.

At some point, I called up to the hospital so that they could get my room ready. I can remember her asking me what symptoms I was having. At the time I didn't really have any contractions. I had just told her I thought my water had broke because when I sat down to pee, I never stopped. She told me I could take my time, shower and meander up to the hospital at my leisure, my room would be ready and waiting.

In our birthing classes, we learned about all these preparations you should make when you go to deliver...to pack activities, cards, magazines, cd's, candy, chapstick, you know...settle in for the long hall. I began to panic. I had bought a Kenny G cd specifically for mood music during labor, but didn't have a cd player. We ended up stopping at Meijer on the way to the hospital so Steve could pick up a cd player while I sat in the car on my towel.

At about 1:30 am we made it to the hospital. The nurses did their checking and confirmed that I had not peed myself. The strapped me to the monitors and checked the downstairs business only to find that I had not effaced or dilated one iota. They told me to relax and get some sleep...sure!

At 1:30 in the morning there was a woman in the next room delivering with a midwife who was encouraging her to yell, scream, grunt or whatever means of self expression she could muster and deliver her baby. Even Kenny G in all his saxaphone smoothness could not cover the screams of this lady. After about an hour (but felt like 24), her screams died down and the tiny wail of a baby could be heard. At that point, we finally relaxed enough to start trying to sleep. Of course you know how short lived sleep is when you are in a hospital. There is always someone prodding and poking at you!

After a resident or 2, a handful of nurses, the entire Detroit Lions football team and any other interested on-looker had a peek, they decided to try a few different things to get the ball rolling, as I was not effaced or having contractions.

By morning Steve's family had received their phone calls and were waiting with us in the room. My contractions were very mild at this point. My doctor had visited and noticed that the baby was experiencing decelerations in his hear rate with my contractions and had ordered an internal scalp monitor. It was at this point that I pretty much had to stay in bed. By mid afternoon, they decided to give me pitocin to get the contractions rolling.

It was at this point we were experiencing a changing of the guard. In-laws were coming and going and my mom had shown up. Steven actually had walked some family down to the parking lot and was not in the room. It was just me and my mom. For whatever reason the nurse had my iv going very fast. I ended up having a contraction that lasted for about 7 minutes. It was in my back and would not let up. Of course, being hooked up to the monitor, you can hear everything. The baby's heartrate dropped from a steady 140 beats per minute down to about 40 beats per minute. I immediately went into panic hysterical mode. My mom was desperately trying to calm me down. A swarm of nurses came flying into my room and decended upon me like a flock of hungry vultures. It was at this time that Steven was rounding the corner ready to head back to the room

They had me on my side, hands and knees and in a variety of positions to bring up the baby's heart rate. One nurse injected me with something that stopped the contractions. I was still very hysterical and inconsolable at this point. The nurse called the doctor and told him what was going on and he ended up instructing her to give me her phone. Wouldn't you know that he dropped everything that he was doing, hopped in his car and flew to the hospital. He talked to me the entire way on his cell phone. I was prepped for surgery and pretty much ready to roll by the time he got there.

Back in the OR, I was getting ready to get my spinal block for the c-section. I had this crazy anesthesiologist (sp?) named Bob. Try as he might, he was having a heck of a time getting the right spot and had jokingly said that by the time it was all said and done he would have his name tatooed in my back. I can still feel the sensation of that needle being poked in my back!

Partway through the process Bob had noticed that I still had my bra on. If you know me, you know that I am pretty modest. I was not about to sit around with all those people in my room without a bra. He told me that it had to go...no bras in surgery. He instructed the nurse to get it off me. After a small wrestling match she handed him my bra, which he took and flung on my iv pole. Now remember I am a crying, sobbing, hysterical mess who is surviving on little sleep and was thinking my baby was dying. I ended up yelling at him..."That is NOT some toy to just be flung around." The people in the OR got quite a chuckle out of that one. I guess it was then that I regained some composure and got some of my sense of humor back.

Within a few minutes my mom joined me for the surgery. I can't say that it was a very pleasant experience. My spinal was way too high. I could not feel anything below my neck. My hands were not only strapped down, but they were feeling pretty numb. As soon as the incision was made, I vomited...again and again and again. Pretty much until the surgery was done. What a joy though...my baby was perfect...

I can remember the family congregated in the recovery room waiting to meet our son for the first time. I can also remember being immensely afraid to hold him because of not being able to fully feel my hands! I can remember that instant feeling of falling in love all over again and the heart of thanksgiving we felt for the Lord protecting us as he did. As it turns out, the insurance company ended up covering the c-section because of the emergency nature of it. My prayers were answered, just not in the way I thought they would be!

I went on later to have 2 more children, and 2 more c-sections. All births just as special as the first, but with a whole lot less drama! Thank you Lord!

Child-isms

In following Cindy's lead, I thought I would write about one of my middle daughter's funny quotes. I thank Cindy for the Colson-isms as I forget to write that stuff down. It is so priceless!

One day heading home from school, I swung into the GW Boutique on Center Road. I was looking for some old jeans for a sewing project. It was quite slippery outside, so as we were getting out of the van I told the kids to be careful.

Sissy says, "Don't worry about me mom, I'll be okay, I have fractions on my boots."

Not to be left out, a big brother story (or 2)...


My mom...er...Santa faithfully every year put the largest apple or orange in the bottom of our stockings every year. I thought that was great! We didn't always have the luxury of having fresh fruit in the house all of the time, so when Christmas rolled around I always looked forward to the huge piece of fruit! When we ate our fruit on Christmas morning, that counted as breakfast, which allowed us to then start in on the candy. Later on I found out Santa did that just to take up space.

Having such fond memories of my Christmas fruit, I thought I would start that tradition with my children. I can remember a few years back, about the time that Big Brother really had a grasp of what went on Christmas morning and could really express himself, he was tearing into his stocking. He was oohing and aahing and "Oh Cool"-ing over his hot wheels and other trinkets in his stocking. When he got to the very bottom, he worked and worked and dug that huge apple (or was it an organge? I am pretty sure it was an apple..who can remember anymore? That's why I have to write this stuff down. What ever it was it was BIG. Let's just say it was an apple) from the bottom of his stocking. He looked at it for a minute not really knowing what to think and yells..."Hey... It's a big stinkin apple! Santa gave me a big stinkin apple in my stocking!

Another funny one of Big Brother's moments occurred when he was about 4 years old.

We were sitting at the dinner table one night discussing life. Big Brother starts asking questions about teachers. "Is is right for teachers to say that they are God? My teacher told me I had to be quiet because she is God." Steve and I thought about it for a second, not really sure what to say. Was this teacher threatening our child? We assumed this was his preschool teacher making these comments.

We told him that no teacher is God, we have one God...etc., etc., etc., if there is a teacher out there proclaiming to be God, by golly, we will have a talk with him or her. About 1 week passed after this conversation and we really didn't think much about it until I got a phone call. It was from the Children's Supervisor at BSF...

I was going to BSF (Bible Study Fellowship). They had a preschool program that Big Brother had been going to since the age of 2. Part of the schedule included a 10 minute quiet period. It was during this time that the children were instructed to "Be Still and Know that I am God." The leaders were using the Bible verse to instruct the children on the importance of quieting your heart and taking time not only to pray, but also to listen to hear God's words...

The supervisor was giggling when she called and when she finally collected her thoughts said that she had a little situation that needed to be brought to my attention. It seems that my son took his first stand as a Christian and expressed his displeasure at the teacher referring to herself as God and he was going to have his mom and dad talk to her about it.

In all her many years involved in BSF had never had a 4 year old put so much thought into what that verse was saying...she told me that she was proud of him for "calling them out" so to speak and said that from then on they would include a little bit more explanation of the verse.

It was then that we realized that we were in trouble!

It's Time to Lock the Doors When...

So I totally opened up the door on this one and I totally cannot believe I am publishing this for the world to read. Julie, I hope that when you read this, you will appreciate the fact I did this just for you. I am blushing again as I type this and will probably be blushing at various times during the day when I think people might be logging on to read this.

My only request (and this is not a blog tag thing) is that you voluntarily post an embarrassing story about yourself. You can either do it in the comments or on your own blog...where ever you think best. You too, Cindy and Amanda. That is the price! I so need someone to commiserate with. This story is more about not having the body of an 18 year old anymore and my 3 year old taking notice of that fact, besides the fact that it is embarrassing.

We were getting ready for church one Sunday morning. Steven had gotten out of the shower and was in the process of getting dressed. He had his jeans on and was standing in the bedroom in front of the closet trying to decide what shirt to wear. Just so happens I was in the bedroom talking to him...fully dressed. Boogie came in and noticed Steven standing there without his shirt. She says to him, "Daddy, you have little boobies." Not sure how to really respond, he says, "yes I do." She sits there for a second contemplating her next move and says, "I have tiny boobies." As she says this, she lifts up her shirt and gives them the once over and a poke. Before Steve or I could answer she looks at me and says, "Mommy has big LONG LOOONG Boobies." I thought I was going to die right there on the floor. Big would have been okay. I could handle big. But Long LOOONG...2 longs! C'mon!

Does she not realize I sacrificed them for her greater good? What's a girl to do? I picked 'em up off the floor, tucked 'em in and headed for church...there you have it.

Under the Watchful Eye of Zeus

For those not familiar with Boogie, she is always on the go. She is the mover and the shaker. But when she crashes, she crashes hard, thus the name Boogie. Poor Boogs caught another cold last week about the time we returned from our little jaunt to Cadillac. The last couple of days she has been running a mild fever, which we've pretty much just let run its course. Today she woke up with a fever of 103 that only went down to about 101 with the aid of Tylenol. I took her to the doctor today fully expecting to hear that she had a sinus infection or something. Much to my amazement, she had an ear infection with perforation. I have to admit I was shocked. She never once complained about her ears hurting. Hopefully now she will be getting back to her movin' shakin' little self soon.

First indication that something was wrong...she fell asleep infront of the tv last night

(that very seldom happens)

This was her sleeping today after her appointment. Notice her body guard situated at her feet? He has barely left her side most of the day today...not even to chase the cat.


Zeus...the little dog with the BIG heart...the caretaker of the sick.

You know your butt is getting big when...

Pardon me upfront for my candor, potty humor, etc...

So I was sitting on the toilet this morning. As usual, Boogie was right there beside me offering a commentary on the morning business. In all her sweet cuteness she says to me: "Mom, that toilet is too small for you."
ME: "Excuse Me? What do you mean by that?"
BOOGIE: "You know, the hole...it's too small for you."
ME: (thinks to herself, thanks a lot, who invited you in here anyway, just wait...someday you'll have children of your own...I brought you into this world...) Lets just say lots of thoughts went through my mind. Eventually all I could do was laugh. After I finish this box of donuts and 1/2 gallon of icecream I'm so going to get on the treadmill for an hour...

Happy 10th Birthday!

This is a little bit late in coming. I had intended on posting on Big Brother's birthday, but Steve and I actually had the opportunity to sneak away for a couple of days. We used the gift certificate that my in-laws bought us for Christmas. We ended up going to Cadillac Monday through Wednesday. I will post more on that later. Today I wanted to focus on my first-born and honor him on his birthday, even though it is a little late. Please forgive the first few pictures. Iwas having a hard time with the scanning and formatting. They are a little on the small side, too.

This is our son on his Birthday. I can still remember the very first time I looked at him and how he caputred my heart instantly. I was afraid to hold him because I had a c-section. the doctors had my spinal too high and I couldn't feel my hands. I didn't know if I had a grip on him or not! I remember the look on Steven's face when he held him for the first time. He was and still is a very proud daddy.
Here he is when he was just a little tyke! He was a very good baby...especially after he hit the 3 month mark. He had a little problem with colic. He was the type of baby you could take anywhere...

He loved to wear this hat. He actually didn't mind sunglasses either...

He was and continues to be a smiley guy. He is a people person. You don't see him down very often.

We had the opportunity to fly to Colorado a few years back. As you can see, he still likes the sunglasses!

This is the serious, more determined side of Big Brother...

...And his wild and crazy side...

This year he opted for a birthday pie...Happy Birthday to you Big Brother!

We are so proud of him and the young man he has become. When he was 5 he accepted the Lord as his Saviour. I can remember that birthday just as clearly as I rember the day of his physical birth. He has a passion for the Lord and His word. In May of 2007 we were able to watch him make his public profession of faith in the ritual of Baptism. It is our prayer that he would be blessed in 2008 and that he would continue to grow in the Lord. I am so blessed to be his mother.

The Sweeter Side of Life

I was just going back through some old pictures on my computer and came across a few showing some of the sweeter more savory moments. I guess I'm feeling a little sappy right now. My first baby is going to be 10 in just a matter of a couple of days.

I can remember growing up and counting down the years to be able to drive, to graduate, and (forgive me God, but this was BC) to legally drink. It seemed like forever before I was old enough to hit those milestones. I remember my mom throwing a surprise 35 th birthday party for my dad and thinking...wow, he's really getting old. Now I'm sitting here, 35 and wondering where the years have gone. It seems that since I've had children someone has hit the fast forward button on the vcr of my life!

This has caused me to be ever thankful for the time we have. To savor every moment with our children...both the good and the bad, and to make sure that you are creating memories.

I love to watch daddies and their little girls...

...and little girls as they blossom into young ladies...

...or your sweet innocent baby boy as he sleeps (please look past the nasty pillow)...

...a proud big brother as he holds his new baby sister...

...lovin' up Grandpa...

...or sweet bedtime stories shared by sisters...

Life doesn't get any better than this.

Breakfast Hats

A few years back when our oldest son was about 11 months old we took a little vacation to Montana. It just happened to be very cold and snowy while we were there. We did a little shopping and came across a hat that at the time really defined the essence of Big Brother's personality. We have since passed this hat down from child to child. Somewhere in the mix and chaos of our home, we had temporarily misplaced this hat. While cleaning Big Brother's room, we found the hat and tried to get Boogie to wear it. At first, she wasn't buying it. We told her it was Saturday Breakfast Hat Day and everyone who was eating breakfast had to wear a Breakfast Hat. She still was a little apprehensive with this idea. Big Brother, on the other hand, never passes up an opportunity to be in front of the camera. He proudly displays his Breakfast Hat.

Or Hats...as the case may be.

He enjoyed it so much that he had a variety of Breakfast Hats.

Sissy, on the other hand thought this whole thing was weird and thought to herself, how did someone as cool as me (in my cheetah print jammies Aunt Sara made) end up in a family like this? Just to make them all happy, I'll wear my pink Breakfast Hat.

Boogie finally joined in with a spirit of cooperation and even acted like she was enjoying herself.

She even gave us some "Cheese"

Oh...did I mention that 6 M & M's were involved? Sometimes you just have to speak their language. AAh, the power of M & M's.