Why didn't I look there...

My broom has been missing since November 5.  Yes, it has been well over a month and half that my broom has been missing.  I've retraced my steps, I've looked everywhere.

Seriously, I've looked all over my house, under beds, behind dressers, in my closets, in the boy's room (dare I say how desperate I was), I even looked at the local park shelter (thinking maybe in one of my brainless days, I took it to the park). All to no avail.

I should add a disclaimer that although I've been broomless for the past 48 plus days, I have swept my floors in that time with something I like to call "the crappy broom" And that leads me to explain why I felt talking about my broom was important enough to share on this blog.  See I have an amazing broom.  Well, I guess I should say, I did have an amazing broom.

We have tile or wood floors in our entire house, except for about 200 feet of carpet in our living room.  And when we first looked at our house to buy it, I thought I would love it.  I thought this will be great, instead of the dust going into the carpet, I can easily sweep it up.  And that no is where I have my complaints.  Who has time to sweep up dust bunnies, when their are fights to break up, laundry coming out of my ears and food to make.  Always some meal to make.

But I digress, back to my broom.  With the limited time I do spend sweeping our floors, I was given a rubber ended broom that is fabulous.  It picks up hairballs, dust bunnies, dirt, sand, glass, you name it.  Anything that ends up on our floor can be nicely swept up with our magic broom.  Therefore, you can understand my concern when it disappeared.

As Thanksgiving came and went and my search continued, I expanded my search, calling out my mom and dad.  Perhaps they had borrowed the broom when they were here earlier in November.  Nope, they didn't have it.  And my search continued.  While the boys wrote their Christmas letters to Santa and begged for the latest Samsung Galaxy S4 phone, an I Pad, and I Phone and every other electronic device, I secretly asked Santa for another amazing broom (that's after knowing my first wish of them to behave and get along was not realistic).

As the days before Christmas dwindled down, I was temped to go to the nearest hardware store or home depot store and search for another broom.  But instead I decided our resources were short and the ones we did have should be used for the kids.  My need for a nice broom could wait.

On Christmas morning the kids ripped through their gifts in a matter of minutes and went on about their day playing with all their toys.  Later in the afternoon the neighbor boy came over to show the boys his new remote control helicopter (similar to the one Gabriel had gotten but had already broken).  The boys decided to play in the backyard even though I told them I thought it wasn't the best idea, given it could easily fly over the fence into another person's yard or worse, the road behind our house.  But, as most comments I say, my suggestion was promptly disregarded and play in the backyard they did.

Less than two minutes later the boys came charging into the house, "MOM THE HELICOPTER IS STUCK ON THE ROOF!!"  "MOM, CAN YOU HELP GET IT DOWN FOR US!"  Shaking my head and wondering why I even say anything, I said, "You'll have to wait for Dad to get home, I"m not going on the roof today."  To the boys' luck Dad just happened to walk in the house 10 minutes later.  "Hi Mom, I'm home!"  "Dad, the boys flew Harlan's helicopter on the roof, you'll have to get it!"  "Hello to you mom too!"

Thankfully I have the best hubby in the world and moments later he was getting the big ladder out of the garage and putting it up in the backyard to get it down.   I went on about my business picking up the mess that was left behind after the gift ripping.  Dad successfully got down the helicopter and walked through the door announcing, "Mom- guess what I found on the roof?"  Thinking he was just being silly, I, with sarcasm responded, "Let me guess, a helicopter!"

Dad smiled, with his arms behind his back and said, "No- Mom, I found your broom!"  It was on the roof!"

"What?" I said, "How in the world did my broom end up on the roof?"  Immediately I knew the answer but thought I'd give the boys a chance to be honest and cough up the truth. "Boys, did you throw my broom on the roof?"  Acting like I had asked them to scrub the toilets for a week straight, they immediately denied having any involvement in the act. "Mom, why would we even touch your broom?"  We don't like to do work."  I guess they were being kind of honest.  Hoping to lead the witness into a confessions, I continued my interrogation, "Perhaps you used the broom to try and get a ball off the roof?"  Still shaking their heads NO NO NO, we didn't do anything.  I knew I was not going to get anywhere with them.  I decided to instead give up and just thank Santa.  Perhaps he forgot to drop the broom off under the tree and instead left it on the roof as he flew to the next person's house.  I'll choose to believe that story.

While my Christmas wish list was fulfilled, I also learned a lesson.  The next time something goes missing, one of the first places I'm going to look is on the roof.

Then I won't have to ask myself, "Why didn't I look there?"

Until next time,
Angie

Big brother and his little sister...

If I've said it one, I've said it a million times.  Michael is such a wonderful big brother!  All of us see it.  Especially his little sister.  Every morning, upon first spotting Michael, she races up to him, arms wide open and shouts "My call"  It doesn't matter if he's facing her or not, if he's standing up, sitting down, lying down.  You name it, the moment Isabelle's eyes meet Michael, she's full steam ahead charging to express her love through a big hug.

It's so precious.  As much as Isabelle loves Michael, it is definitely a two way street. 

The other night as I was preparing dinner, Gabriel and Dad were gone.  In the other room, were Michael and Isabelle and while normally the noise is our house is at the level most 747's produce as they take off, for a while it was quiet.  That's usually mom's sign to start checking for what trouble is a brewing.

I peeked around the corner, wondering what act I was going to catch them in.

 Instead, I saw this...

With few words actually being spoken, the language between them was flowing like a river.  

The language of love between a big brother and his little sister.

Until next time,
Angie

Oh Christmas Tree...

Last year, one of the items on Michael's Christmas list was having a Christmas Tree in he and Gabriel's room.  While I was able to get one for less than $20 on Black Friday, I decided we could make Michael's wish come true.

This year the boys were thrilled again that they get to have a Christmas tree in their room. The boys picked the colored lights and help decorate the ornaments in the places they want them to rest.  They lie in bed and admire them I know, because each night they ask me about the origins of where they came from.

"Mom- did you and Megan make these ornaments?"  Can you make them with us?  Sadly I can't remember how they were made.
Mom- my favorite ornament on our tree is the NFL one.

It's clear they love having the tree as much as I love watching them enjoy it.  I love sneaking into their room while they are fast asleep and seeing the glow of the tree's lights shine on their walls.  The sense of peace in their room is so inviting, it makes me want to curl up on their floor and just enjoy the moment.

I love so many things about Christmas and getting the boys a tree for their room gave me yet another reason to my already long list of why I love this holiday so much.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Until next time,
Angie

It's not Christmas break without a trip to Urgent Care

Sadly, this title is true and less than 24 hours after the boys began their two-week break from school, Gabriel was sitting in the local urgent care waiting for his leg to be stitched back together.

See it all started with our wonderful family tradition of holiday baking.  It is one of my favorite times of the year.  We get together with Dad's family and spent an entire day baking goodies and enjoying each others company.  With the love of baking I have, it is, in my mind, it almost like spending a full day at the spa.

So this past Saturday, was our baking day.  While there are some family members that relish in the act of baking, others prefer to be taste testers and want to stay as far away from any baking duties as possible (ahem Dad).  With 8 kids (9 and younger), we usually delegate the dads and Papa to enjoy some good old kid action at the nearby park, at least until the rest of us can make some major headway with the baking.

And that's when it happened. After finally rounding up the herd and getting ready to leave the house, we joked with Jarrett saying, "Now make sure you give us the full 2 hours, and don't start the timer until you actually get to the park."  Less than 75 minutes into our no-kid baking time, Nolan's phone rang to share the news they were all returning.  Gabriel had fallen at the skate park area and had hit his leg.  Uncle Jeremy shared that Gabriel had cut it pretty bad and that we'd probably have to take him to the ER.

As Nolan shared the news, I secretly hoped it was just a bad scrape.  Gabriel has gotten some pretty good cuts and scrapes in the past.  Between his entire leg getting road rash from a nasty bike fall

to splitting his chin open as he fell in our backyard,

 I was hoping it looked worse than it really was.

After getting the news I waited outside for Dad and Gabriel to return, like the nurses in one of my old favorite TV shows, " ER" wait outside for the ambulance to come with the injured patient.  Finally Dad and crew pulled up and when I first saw Gabriel he was smiling.  His cousins and brother riding in the same car had done a great job distracting him.

I carried him into the house and asked him to show me his injury.  As he pulled off a tissue he had put on it to stop the bleeding, I looked into his leg which seems to have been ripped in several ways and was a lot deeper gash that I ever expected to see.  As Gabriel recounted the story, I started to realize that no band-aid we had was going to do the trick in fixing this ouwie.  Gabriel said he had been on his scooter and fell down not hitting his leg on the cement but on the actual scooter.  Later Uncle Jeremy looked at the scooter and found a sharp metal piece that had been broken with Gabriel skin chunks clearly attached to the metal.

With a quick survey from the other adults present, the decision was made to take him to urgent care.  Dad and Nana went with him, while the rest of us stayed back to keep the baking going.  Although I wish I had gone along with him, (I did feel guilty for not being there with him), I knew he was in good hands and that he'd be fine.  Dad kept me posted via text how things were going...

Me:  How's he doing?
Dad:  He's fine, We're just getting seen now.

several minutes later
Me:  Now what's going on?  What did the doctor say?
Dad:  Should we order pizza?  (I knew when I got Dad's note, things must be going really well)
Me:  Fine.  Now, how is he doing?
Dad:  They're cleaning it now.  He'll need stitches.
Me:  Bummer, how many?  Is he doing okay?
Dad: 7 stitches.  He was freaked out by the numbing shots, but did well for the actual stitches.  He's watching football now.  They're cleaning it again and then we'll be home.

And soon enough Dad, Nana and Gabriel were back home to re-join in the festivities.  While Gabriel seemed very excited to share how brave he was, the truth was we were proud of him for how brave he was.  I can honestly say, looking at his leg ripped open, I don't think I could have held my composure as well as he did.

So now we are into day three of Christmas break and I'm doing my best to keep the activity for his leg limited.  For a boy who can't get enough running, playing or tossing of a ball, it is brutal to keep him out of playing neighborhood football in the street with the neighborhood kids. While he's promised me a million times he won't fall down or scrape his leg that has the stitches in, I'm not so convinced another accident couldn't happen, so we've been spending a lot of time watching TV and Christmas movies.  Personally, I love it.

While I hope the rest of our Christmas break is uneventful, I'm already gearing up for how to bring up the in depth discussion of how those stitches have to be cut out.  While it shouldn't hurt, he's VERY protective of his injury and wants no one to come within 6 inches of touching it.  I guess I might just save that conversation for when were actually sitting in the doctors office moments before they come in to take them out.

Gabriel's stitches.  I think the doctor did a pretty good job getting all the pieces that were open in different directions pieced back together.  

And here's Gabriel telling me, "Mom, I told you it hurt REALLY bad."

Until next time,
Angie

The Naughty List

I remember as a child I feared being on the naughty list.  As Christmas approached and I’d do something wrong, I was keenly aware of the scary statement that would come racing out of my parents’ mouth, “You better shape up or you’re doing to be on the naughty list and not get anything for Christmas.”  Like falling down and scraping my knee, hearing those words come from my parents was enough to make me ship shape up into the best little girl I could be (at least until Christmas morning). 

And while back in my day just hearing that threat was enough to make me change my ways, I’'ve discovered the times have changed and those threats no longer work.  See, I've discovered my kids are determined to see just how “naughty” they can be and still make the “good” list.   

I find myself in a dilemma. With six days until the big jolly guy is supposed to come, I’m tempted to paint “fly on by” on our roof or lock him out of the house and leave a sign on the front door saying, please take the gifts to some other boys and girls”.  Seriously, this mom has used every possible Santa card that is out there to bribe the kids to be good.  And for some reason, it still isn’t working.   Maybe it’s just the excitement of the season, the change from normal routine or the fact that they can see right through us and know that we can’t NOT give them something for Christmas.  Whatever it is, it’s making me crazy.

It’s the bickering, the tattling, the talking back and the I’m going to do whatever I want, no matter what you say.  It’s just enough to make me crazy (have I said that?)!  Granted there isn’t anything too big that they are fighting about, maybe it’s the normal stuff other parents face.

“Mom- Michael is wearing MY black socks!” 

“Mom- I’m wearing Gabriel’s black socks because he’s wearing MY black pants.”

“Michael pick up your towel and put it in the bathroom!”

“Gabriel STOP telling me what to do!” 

“MOM- Michael’s talking back to me!”

“MOM- Isabelle’s scratching me! We don’t want to watch the Wiggles anymore!”

“NO NO NO” as I look to see Isabelle’s fists chasing after Jack who has taken her Winnie the Pooh.

Seriously, it isn’t just one child, it seems to be all 4 of them, dog included.  And that is just the start.  No matter what there could be to fight about, it’s going to happen in our house and its probably going on right now.

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times.  “Do you not want Santa to come to our house? If you keep acting this way, you’re not going to get anything for Christmas!”  Instead of the scared, I’m sorry face that I expected to stare back at me, I get the “Yea right Mom, tell me another crazy story.” that’s what I get from the boys; and from Isabelle I get the finger point and her saying, “NO NO NO!” back in my face.  Isn’t that nice?  She’s not even two and knows how to talk back. 

But you know me, and I’m stubborn and determined, I will find a way to prove my point.  And that’s when I heard about a local radio station's attempt to help parents in my situation.  Seriously I can hardly believe I’m admitting this, but it’s the truth.  So what happens is the radio DJ’s talk to the parents about all the things their children have been doing to be on the naughty list and then they page the call through to Santa at the north pole.  When Santa’s on the line the child or children get to talk to the big guy as he reminds them about all the bad choices they’ve been making.  The point is to scare the children straight.  While my initial reaction was how cruel, my second thought was, hey, maybe this will work.  And so I decided I’d listen in a few days to see how it went and to see how traumatized the kids were that they really might not get anything. 

And here in point is the lesson learned.  During the first day I listened, an 8-year-old boy was in trouble for fighting at school ( a real kicking and punching fight) and also for locking his smaller 4-year-old brother in his room because he was tired of having to play with him.  On today’s story a 5-year-old “spunky” girl was on the list because she got into a screaming fight with the Santa at the mall because he didn’t know what a Lala Loopsy doll was.  In addition she was in trouble for pulling the fire alarm at school because she didn't want to be there anymore, which of course got her suspended.  And then, if that wasn't bad enough she also got caught stealing her teachers cell phone to take “selfies” with.  Yes, she was just five. 

And there it was, it hit me. 

What in the world was I thinking?  Oh my goodness, why in the world am I complaining over the fighting, the tattling, and the shaking of the finger, (the pointer finger that is), at me. There I was, sitting in the car thinking about the parent of those other “naughty” kids and being thankful for the ones I have. 

In a way, it’s kind of interesting, I think we as parents hope our children are the well behaved ones, the ones that other parents look at and wish their kids were like.  Okay, again maybe I’m spilling my inner secrets, but I guess this is how I feel.  I have expectations that our kids behave in a way that is respectful, mannerly and polite. And while I may have all the expectations in the world,  I’ve found that I can only do so much.  After the 500,000^th time asking Michael to tie his shoes so the homeless man at the library doesn’t have to tell him to tie his shoes or the 200,000 time to ask Gabriel not to talk with food in his mouth or the 1,000,000 begging plea not to talk back, I realized I can only do what I can do.  And it’s probably easier to throw the “always well behaved expectation” out the window and instead hope for a more realistic approach of “let’s just hope they do a lot of things right and only a few things that aren’t so good.”  And with that I should be very very pleased. 

So I guess it’s mom that learned the lesson again this time.  While I was thinking the kids might be on the naughty list this year, the truth is, they’ve probably been on the good one all along.  In the whole spectrum of things you’d have to do to get on the naughty list, I’m thinking the positive things they’ve done have more than canceled out the bad.  If  I’m being perfectly honestly, I’m counting my blessings they haven’t pulled any fire alarms or stolen any teacher’s phones. 

Just looking at them, you'd never imagine they could do anything wrong right? 

Even though they sometimes fight like crazy and push me to my limits, I love them more than they'll ever know and give thanks I get to be there mom.

Until next time,

Angie

Elf on a Shelf...

A couple of years ago, before the craze that Elf on a Shelf is now, we quietly and without all the pzazz, welcomed a little elf into our home.  We call him "Elf".

It was our first year with the boys and to say that Christmas was magical would be an understatement.  I still remember waking up really early just to make sure they hadn't gotten up yet and charged to the living room without me.  I was determined that no matter what, we were going to record that Christmas morning.  Every. Single. Minute. Of. It.  And record it we did.  Although I currently haven’t a clue as to where that video is, I know it has to be somewhere in our house, so that gives me peace.  The  boys were so little (as little as we ever knew them to be at Christmas) and their innocence was so pure.  Man I miss those days.  

Now three years later, like watching the sand in the hourglass slip away, I’m carefully trying to hold onto every last morsel of the wonder their eyes see in Christmas.

Gabriel has been asking me for the last two weeks when Elf on a Shelf was going to come.  Honestly speaking, Dad and I had talked about it and weren't sure if he was going to make an appearance this year.  It takes a lot of "magic" for Elf to find a new spot to enjoy each night and sadly some nights, the mission of finding a new home was too much for little Elfy.  Worrying that his lack of movement might risk the mystery of his magic, we thought about not including him in our festivities this year.  That is, until on a daily basic Gabriel would ask me, when or why our friend the elf hadn't appeared.

And then last night, it happened.  He came!  While Dad and I discussed the holidays and Gabriel’s daily question, the sentence I never wanted to hear was vocalized.  "You know Mom," Dad said, "if you want Elf to come, go ahead.  This might be the last year they believe anyway." Ouch! Oh, the pain! Like a knife to the heart, it hit me.  Knowing dad had no intention of hurting my feelings or causing such an uproar out of me, I think he wishes now he hadn't said it.  But reality sometimes hurts and I know that day is somewhere in our future.  As a true believer in all things Christmas, especially the big man from the North Pole, until I was in 6^th grade (gasp, I know, honestly, that’s when I stopped hearing the ringing from his sleigh bell (reference The Polar Express), I still remember the depressing day); I am determined to stretch out the Christmas magic until we've turned that sand hourglass over at least a few more times.

In hearing the reality of what is enviable being vocalized, my mind was made up and I knew our front door, bedroom window, Jack's dogie door garage door or what ever means Elf uses to enter our house would be open wide waiting for his arrival.  And so he came.  

On Tuesday morning the kids woke up expecting it to be just like any other day, except when Gabriel went to the living room to perform his daily task of opening the blinds, he spotting it.  The Elf on a Shelf book siting nicely on a present waiting to be noticed.  From my bathroom on the other side of the house I heard him shriek, and immediately I smiled knowing he had spotted it.  Seconds later, he was in my bathroom sharing the ecstatic news that Elf indeed had arrived.  He announced, "Mom- the Elf on a Shelf is coming!"  "What?," I responded.  "Mom- Elf is going to be coming in a few days I think. He brought us the book last night!"  Thinking to myself, well that's not exactly the news I was expected, I decided to follow along as he led me to the living room to see the book.  "Wow!" I said, "that is so exciting! But why do you think he isn't here?  Have you looked for him?"  Surprised with my question he said, "No Mom, I haven't looked.  I think he'll come in a couple of days."  Looking up to our stockings hanging above the closet, I saw him.  Now showing just as much excitement as Gabriel did in finding the book, I exclaimed, "Gabriel, I see the elf! LOOK!"  as I pointed up to the stocking hung neatly in a row.  Gabriel screamed and called for the rest of the family who all came running. Gabriel proudly announced that Elf had arrived and made his comfy resting spot in no other place than in Gabriel's stocking!  Gabriel continued in his glee and said, "I guess he heard me asking about him!"  

Over breakfast, Elf was the one and only conversation topic between the boys.  "I wonder where's he's going to go next?"  I wonder if he will tell Santa we were good?   Elf, can you tell Santa I was a Samsung Galaxy S4 phone?"  and on and on and on.  As I raced around the house getting readyto leave the house in our normal mad dash, I pretended to be too busy to listen to their comments.  But the truth is, I was soaking up every. single. minute. of it.  Recording it into my memory, not to be filed away and forgotten but to me reminisced, to be cherished and to revel in for all my Christmas's future, especially after the last morsel of sand from our Christmas Magic hour glass has fallen to the floor.  

As an adult, I've come to love Christmas just as much as I did as a child.  I love everything about it.  From the beautiful Christmas cards we receive that I read over and over, to the holiday music, the cookies, the feel-good, happy ending movies that remind us there are so many good people in this world, and the time spent with loved ones.  What is perhaps one of my favorite things about Christmas is the wonder in the season.  The hope, the faith and the love that the unimaginable is possible.  That Santa really does fly through the air with 9 magical reindeer, that Frosty can come to life with that magic hat and a carrot nose and that a tiny Elf will come to your home, watch over you, report back to Santa how you've been and come back to your house to find a new place to hide.

Oh the wonder of the season.  This truly is the most wonderful time of the year.

Until next time,

Angie

Reflections....

The other night, right after the boys had gone to bed, I was making the rounds throughout the house tidying up our normal clutter, when I heard Isabelle laughing.  It wasn't her normal giggle.  It was the full on belly laugh;  the one that makes her whole body shake, her head tilt back and the giggle that continues on for longer than I can hold my breath.  Indeed, she was having a good ol' time with something. 

I went to investigate and as I got closer I saw her standing less than 2 inches from our family room Christmas tree.  Now Isabelle and I have had some good conversations about this tree.  See, one of her favorite things to do is to pull the Christmas bulbs off the tree, and throw them on the ground.  I see her justification, I do.  "But Mommy, I thought they were balls. They look like balls and I can play with balls.  Why can't I play with these?  They are even extra pretty balls that I can't resist"  I see her point.  I do, it's just that we still don't agree.  "Sorry Belle, Mom's Christmas ornaments are NOT balls and we do NOT touch mommies pretties.  No NO!"

So, as you can imagine, when I saw her face pressed right up against the tree, you can guess what my first thought was.  "Oh, we're playing this game again."  And just as I was about to say in my firm voice, "Isabelle, NO NO!",  I stopped, and took a few more steps closer to see better what she was doing.  

That's when my heart melted.  Although her face was less than 2 inches from the bulb, her hands were at her sides making sure she wasn't touching anything.  With her body bent forward, she was looking at the shiny silver Christmas bulb glistening back her reflection.  And in that distorted reflection, she was amazed not only that she could see herself, but that it was a funny looking self-portrait.  That my friends, is the reason for her all out belly laugh which shook her whole body with delight.  

It was contagious.  I couldn't help myself.  As her tiny body shook with each and every giggle that left her body, my eyes cried happy tears and my heart gushed love. 

There are many times in my daily life that I can see God's hand at work.  

Gentle reminders to give thanks for what we have been given.  

Simple events as a sign to stop and recognize the gifts in the wonders of life. 

And reflections...

 Reflections to ponder the awe in something that has happened or to simply pause, soak in the moment and laugh about what is staring back at you.

This moment, while heart-melting and oh so precious, did just that for me.

Until next time,
Angie

A mom's role...

Over the weekend, it seemed all I did was pick up stuff.  Okay, I guess that's every day, but it seemed that this weekend it was worse than normal.  No matter what area of the house I looked, someone had dropped something else for me to pick up.

The other reason why I believe that to be the case, was that I heard myself saying, "Pick up your (fill in the blank)" over and over and over.  One time after telling Michael to pick up his batman cape for the 4th time in less than 30 minutes, he trudged to the kitchen, bent over and picked up the cape which was perfectly lying in front of the kitchen sink.   Then he said, "You know what Mom, if I were you, I'd be a maid.  That way you wouldn't have to ask anyone to pick up their stuff, you could just do it.  Plus mom, that's what you are really good at." 

Isn't that nice?  Seriously, I wasn't sure if it was a compliment, a jab or simply a statement.  But it got me thinking.... is that what we as mom's are supposed to do?  It is my duty just to stroll around the house, picking up the scattered debris that just happens to fall from the little people's hands and return it safely to its "home"?  Personally I believe no.  But then I spent more time thinking about it and realized, to the little people in my life, I think that is exactly what they see my purpose to be.  Now it isn't the only purpose, but definitely a very important one.  The one of preparing them tasty food, followed by picking up the mess that accompanies serving them tasty food, follows right behind being their "personal maid".   Seriously, tonight I asked Gabriel to help me make a salad so he knows how to do it when he's grown.  He stopped, looked at me and said, "Mom I'm not going to need to know how to do that.  I'm going to have a wife that will do that!" I gasped and, I'll save the rest of that conversation for another post.

Back to my first rant...just think about it.  How many moms have heard the question, "Mom, do you know where my (again, fill in the blank) is?"  How come that's always a question moms get? I don't think I can ever recall our kids asking Dad where something is.  I guess maybe they have to ask Dad when I’m off enjoying a relaxing massage and frozen daiquiri at our private island (for those who read this but don’t’ personally know us, we do NOT have a private island).    I seriously think, my kids think a mom's job is to pick up everyone's stuff and return it to a safe and easily found place, so they can take it out again and drop it for me to pick up.  Seriously; I'm completely convinced that's how they see things.

As I sat there becoming quite frustrated at the realization I had made, I thought further, and what I discovered next really made me feel bad.   I understood that it isn't just my kids that feel that way.  I myself, did the same thing to my mom as a child (you’re still considered a “child” at 17 right? ). "Mom- I lost my shirt, did you wash it yet?"  Not only being completely irresponsible in not keeping track of my stuff, but also assuming it was my mom's fault my shirt wasn't neatly hanging in my closet because my mom hadn't washed it.  And then I felt even worse, I would never have wanted to be my parent when I was a kid.  Maybe this attitude just runs in my family, but I’m hoping I’m not the only one. 

And now, that I've had enough time to think about it; to stew about my revelation, I’m determined to do something about it.  I've found the perfect strategy, the perfect solution…. I’m going to play their game.   What’s that saying, Two can play at this game.  I’m changin it… “Mom can play at this game too!”  See I’m going to start leaving my stuff all over too, but instead of putting it all over the house like they like to do to me, I’m just going to start putting stuff in their room.  I can’t think of a better place to store my shoes, the pots and pans, the empty toilet paper rolls that no one likes to take to the recycle bin.  Ah, yes, Mom can play at this game too. J  I’m just interested to see how long it takes them to grow tired of my “crap” in their way.  Sadly, I’m convinced this game is going to test my stamina.  Here’s another saying for you… “Rome wasn’t built in one day.”  And I’m afraid my title of “maid” isn't going to go away that easy either.

Until next time,

Angie

Baby its cold outside...

With the morning temperatures here in the desert reading a balmy 31 degrees, it would be fair to say we were all in shock as we went to take the boys to the bus stop.  In fact, we've become so wimpy to the cold, I had to drive the boys to the bus stop (literally at the end of our block) so we could all wait in a warm car for the bus to come.  In a way, it reminded me of my youth, when my brother, sister and I would have to hike to the hill at the top of the lane and wait for our bus.  The only difference between this morning and the mornings waiting inside my dad or grandpa's car for the bus, was that here it was 31, when I was little it was usually -20 when we got to ride in the car.  (Oh my goodness, now don't I sound like my parents and the famous rant... "When I was a kid, we walked uphill both ways in snow that was above our knees."  I'm guessing our parents all had the same story).

Anyway, I digress.. back to the bus waiting this morning, Isabelle kept repeating "cold mommy" over and over and over, so when it was actually time for us to go out and run errands, I decided it was perfect weather for the full-on winter jacket.  Knowing we only get to wear them for about 10 days a season, we have to take advantage of every chance we get.

In a way, I love the cold.  Especially before the holidays.  Growing up in the mid-west, it has never felt right to be sweating while we celebrate Christmas.  So bring it on Old Man Winter.  We love it!

And it gives us a chance to sing one of my favorite holiday classics....

Baby It's COLD outside! 

Some body else doesn't seem to mind the cold either.  You think we'd live in Alaska the way she's dressed. 

Happy Holidays and until next time, stay warm!

Angie

Happy Thanksgiving... (only a week late)!

Who says we can only celebrate Thanksgiving on one day a year. In our house its like Thanksgiving everyday (okay now you know I'm joking).  So maybe I'm just trying to make myself feel better for not getting around to posting a note on the actual Thanksgiving day.  I guess this way I'll be able to give a highlight of our Thanksgiving 2013.  While the weather here is now perfect, we started off our Thanksgiving holiday outdoors.   On the last day of school before break the boys participated in their school's Turkey Trot.  It was a really fun event and we all went.  Dad, Isabelle and I arrived to watch the boys.  While Gabriel is now in second we are starting to see the "I'm too cool to say hi Mom and Dad"  attitude arrive as we barely got a wave out of him when he saw us.  Thank goodness Michael still loves to obnoxiously say hi.  As he saw us, he waved and shouted all across the playground loud enough for all the kids and teachers to hear, "Ms. Thomas ---- THAT'S MY MOM AND DAD, AND MY BABY!!! "  Isabelle is still his baby. :-) After the kids did some stretches to the song, "What does a fox say?"  the started their trot chasing after their gym teacher who was dressed as a turkey.  The trot was almost a mile and while the gym teacher told them to jog, to most of the kids including mine, they must have heard that as "spring as fast as you can!" because that's what they did.  As they came around the side of the school after charging off, it was funny to see how many had slowed to a slow walk, bent in half grabbing their side.  The kids upon seeing their parents though had to pick up the pace and started running again.  As they came down the homestretch and raced with all their might, they crossed the finished line and started shouting what place they were in.  Gabriel said, "I got third"  another said, "I'm first."  I'm tenth.  It was clear, their announcements of place finishes had nothing to do with accuracy.  It was really fun to be there and I think it meant a lot to the boys that Dad, Isabelle and I were there.  Doing the "what does a fox say" warm up song. And they were off! After they finished, they celebrated with water and a banana. Gabriel and his buddies!   On Wednesday after the kids got home from school we went for a family bike ride, which of course ended as quickly as it began.  Isabelle and Jack did NOT like sharing the pull behind cart.  Actually Isabelle was NOT interested in being confined to a cart and began kicking the safety netting to escape while Dad was pulling them along.  Needless to say in her fit, she kicked Jack who growled back at her and minutes later we were pulling back into our driveway.  Game over.  It was a nice idea.  Things always appear to go so much smoother with those ideas in my mind. Thanksgiving day we spent with Jarrett's family.  It was a lovely day spent eating tasty food, followed by an active game of twister.  I think the boys preferred "falling/wresting" with their cousins on the mat more than actually following instructions.  We ate really yummy food and then ate some more.  Have I mentioned how wonderful the food was.  Man I love Thanksgiving.  Thankfully we also had a stop at Nana and Papa's neighborhood park so the kids could burn off some energy. Friday was the first year in about 13 that I didn't partake in the black Friday shopping festivities.  I admit, it was so strange for me not to go and in some way I think my body associates Turkey with shopping because I was up all night thinking about all the good deals others were getting instead of me.  I've decided Black Friday isn't necessarily about the buying of stuff, but the game of looking for deals, watching people go crazy for that one particular item and standing in line.  Oh doesn't it sound like fun?  Instead of going shopping on Friday Dad went to work and the kiddos and I finished the inside holiday decorations.  While I say the kids, I mean they played, fought, tattled on each other and talked back.  I'm wondering if that's what they associate Turkey with?  On Saturday, I begged Dad to help me put up the outside decorations.  Thinking that it should take no more than 2 hours (a project we could get done while Isabelle napped) instead turned into a whole day event.  After realizing our landscaping had grown out of control, we chopped everything back first.  Then we had to test the lights and we have just a few (30 plus) strands of lights to check.  As Jarrett started hour 4 with the boys outside "helping" (I use that term lightly--- more like fighting, tattling, talking back) him, I could tell Dad was cursing the idea of putting lights up.  He said on more than one occasion, I do this ONLY because I LOVE you.  If this was up to me, we would not have any lights.  Isn't that so sweet?  The things you do for love.  After he finally got the lights up (6 hours into the day) he decided our dead ficus tree, the one that has been dead since last winter was finally going to come down. While we were scheduled to go to some friends house for dinner, I jumped in the shower only to hear a huge BANG, BANG, BANG.  Thinking someone had crashed their car through our block fence, I jumped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around myself and went to make sure the kids and dad were okay.  As I got to the front room, there's dad swinging an ax with all his might, while our two boys stood a safe distance away cheering on their dad like he was He-Man.  Jarrett was soaking up every ounce of the dad pride the boys were emitting.  Seeing everyone was safe I returned to the shower.  After getting dressed and heading back out front the eye-sore for the past year was missing.  Job done! That night we went to a friends house for a pancake supper.  It was so much fun and the kids got to watch the Polar Express outside on an air mattress while the movie played on a big screen.  The kids were in Heaven while the first time in a long time the adults actually got to talk and hold a conversation. One of the benefits of living in Phoenix, watching a movie outside on Thanksgiving weekend was not an option as a child growing up in Iowa.  I guess it was an option, but not one anyone would really enjoy.  Our boys really enjoyed it! Sunday we went to have dinner with my aunt and her family.  It was so nice to see them and while we live just two blocks away, we don't get to see them as much as we'd like.  You've heard it before, the whole, life is so busy card. Our Thanksgiving holiday was truly wonderful (fighting and tattling included- my grandpa reminds me that if they didn't fight, they wouldn't be healthy and that would be worse).  I love this time of the year for many reasons, but probably one of the most is that it is the one time when we stop, slow down our hectic lifestyles and give thanks for all we have in our lives.  I feel so blessed with the life I've been given and while sometimes I remember to give thanks daily for that, I really do have so much to give thanks for.  We hope also thank you and your family had a very blessed and happy Thanksgiving. From our little Turkey to yours.... Happy (belated) Thanksgiving! Until next time, Angie

Observations

I know they always say "As parents, its important to be aware of your actions, because little ones pick up on it quickly."  I guess that is true.  Just last night after getting home from picking up Isabelle from school, the first thing she did after getting into the house was walk straight to the living room, right up to the TV and turned it on.  As I watched her in action, I thought, "Oh my gosh, she's doing exactly what I do the moment we get home."  After turning it on she turned around, looked at me who was looking straight at her and said, "Mommy TV! and then pointed to the TV as if to say, "Now, say thank you mommy, I turned the TV on for you." 

Guess she's onto me too.  I can't help it, I'm a TV buff. :-)

Until next time,

Angie

3 years ago today....

In the hallway that connects all of our bedrooms, there is a picture frame with our family photo and a saying.  I pass by that frame each and every day.  While most days I pass by without stopping to look at the picture or read the saying, the truth is, the image of those photos and the message it holds on our wall is very special.  It was a picture frame given to us by one of Jarrett's co-workers and the message it shares, is, at its core, the spirit upon which our family was created. 

It reads....

Family isn't always blood.  It's the people in your life who want you in theirs;  the ones who accept you for who you are.  The ones who would do anything to see you smile and who LOVE YOU no matter what.

 

 

And today that message, and the 1096 previous today's we've shared defines us.    Today we celebrate an anniversary.  Three years ago Jarrett, Gabriel, Michael and I became united together as a family in the eyes of the law, matching the feelings in our hearts that had been bonded many months prior.

 

Its hard to believe sometimes that three years have passed. As I look back on the pictures, so many feelings rush back.  The feeling of being so thankful, so blessed and so truly happy continue to overwhelm me like they did that special day. 

In the past three year's we've been a family I realize it isn't just the boys that have changed.  We've all grown, we've all learned, we've faced our challenges, we've argued and pushed each other out of our comfort zones, we've celebrated many victories, embraced each other in sadness and honored each others dreams.  We've done it all, together bbecause that's what a family does. And while there were hard days, there were many many more wonderful days that shine far brighter. 

Gabriel and Michael, I hope you know that you are the greatest gifts we could have ever wanted.  While Dad and I prayed to become parents, we didn't know just how lucky we were going to be.  When God brought us you, he brought us eternal happiness, never-ending love, and the passion to go to the ends of the world to give you all you ever need and the power of hope to follow all the dreams your heart holds.

We love you so very much.  Thank you for making us so happy, so proud and the luckiest parents in this whole wide world.

Until next time,
Mom and Dad

Michael's Spotlight of the Week

Last Friday when Michael came home from school and dumped his backpack on the floor, I decided, after tripping on it twice, to open up the bag and see what was inside.  Even though I tell the boys constantly to hang up their backpack and put it in their room, the words that come out of my mouth must instead hit their ears translated into, "Please throw your backpack on the floor right in the middle of the kitchen while mom attempts to make dinner"  Ah, I digress.

 

And while the stores at the back-to-school sale try to tell us that picking a cool backpack that transports important work for your child is really important, I'm not convinced.  Personally I think the purpose of a backpack only is for transporting homework (parental homework that is), important papers for parents to sign off on and return to the teacher and for notes of things I'm usually not to happy to receive (Sorry to tell you again but your son didnt' turn in his library book, you owe us another $8.50 or my favorite, you must not have noticed the yellow star stamp on your son's hand the last two weeks signalling his lunch account has a negative balance of -$25.00 please send lunch money soon!)  I guess what I'm saying is, if I had my druthers I'd leave the backpacks at school.  Okay now I'm really done with this rant.

 

Back to my original point.  So last Friday after pulling out the many papers, two jackets, a random girl's bracelet and a enough sand to fill a paper cup, I found a crinkled up note from Michael's teacher.  It said, next week Michael is going to be our shining star.  Please send a poster with him to school on Monday sharing all of the interesting things about Michael.  What is his favorite food?  What is his favorite color?  What does he like to do?  When was he born?  I think you get the point.  Upon reading it, I thought, "Okay add that item to mom's weekend to do list." 

 

And as the weekend progressed I talked with Michael about what he wanted to put on his poster.  I told him he had to write out what he wanted to put on the poster first and then I'd type the question leaving a space for him to write in his response and we'd put that on the poster.  He was excited. Saturday afternoon we started. 

 

One thing about these spotlight or star of the week assignments is that for us, adoptive families, there's one thing that always goes along with the assignment.  You can be guaranteed, while working on the poster you are going to have a discussion about how we came to be together, followed by questions of what their life was like before us and what they were like as a baby.  I'm thankful I now can anticipate some of the questions they ask.  "Mom- was I a cute baby?" (Thankfully that's easy, all babies are cute in my book).  Of course honey, you were adorable. "Mom- what did I look like as a baby?" (I am SOOOOO thankful for the boy's foster parents and the fact that they took time to gather birth and baby pictures from the boy's birth mom.  As a result of their proactive thinking, we have several pictures of the boys as newborns and babies.  Something I'm very thankful for, as I realize not all adopted children have this.)  Michael, here is a picture of you as a baby.  Aren't you the cutest baby ever?  Michael smiling from ear to ear, sighed and said, "Oh look, I'm so cute! Gabriel, look at my chubby cheeks." 

 

And while those questions are relatively easy to answer, it is the other ones that I get a bit more nervous answering.  "Mom- why did our birth mother not want to keep us?  Did she not want us?"  While I have no problems being honest with them, we struggle with the boundary of how much to share with them at this age.  If there is one thing I never want my children to feel, it is that they were not wanted, because the truth is exactly the opposite of that.  They were wanted.  They were wanted by more than one family.  The truth is, it came down to a question of what was best for them and thankfully (to our benefit), the powers that be determined we were the better fit.  How do you explain that to a 6 and 8 year old?  I'm not sure.  I'm not an expert, so I just do my best and tell them in general terms that, "Yes, you were wanted honey.  Michael, your Dad and I wanted to be parents for a very long time and we prayed very hard for you, your brother and your sister. God helped bring you, Gabriel and Isabelle to us, so that we could be a family."    And usually, while I wait for another follow up question, my answers seem to be what they want to hear, and they accept what I say very happily without any further questioning.   I suppose with their age, deeper questions and the follow up will come.  In some ways I look forward to sharing more with them as they age. 

 

Geeze, I guess I'm on a roll tonight with tangents.  I'll try to stay focused.  So while we worked on Michael's poster, we looked through old photographs which made all of us, even the boys realize how much they've grown.  Looking back at them from when they first came to be with us, I see now that they were babies.  How quickly they've grown.

 

Michael and I talked about how to organize the photos and what he wanted to write.  And then it came time for us to lay everything out and start putting it together.  Several times Michael said, "Wow, this looks so nice. Thanks mom for helping me!"  And honestly speaking, I enjoyed working on the poster more than I originally thought I would.  It isn't all that often that just Michael and I get to do something together, so it was fun to work on a task while reminiscing on happy times we've had together. 

 

And then, when we were all finished, I yelled for the rest of the family to gather in the living room so we could give Michael the floor and let him show off... have his spotlight moment of attention. 

 

Everyone gathered around, I grabbed my camera and we watched as Michael stood proudly showing off his poster and telling us about all the pictures and sayings he had put on his masterpiece.

His face says it all.  I think he is proud of what he has to share.

Here he is reading the captions to his pictures.

And talking about one of his favorite trips to Walt Disney World. 

Meanwhile, everyone paid close attention and admired what he was pointing out.  Being the middle child, he doesn't often get the attention Gabriel (being the oldest) or Isabelle (being the baby) get.  And for those few minutes, the stage was all his.  He enjoyed getting the attention as much as we enjoyed giving it to him!

That is, he enjoyed all the attention, until Isabelle realized I was taking pictures.  At which point she turned around...

and came front and center in front of the camera.  She then started saying "CHEEZZZEEE"  over and over and over.

Yep, here she is again.  "CHEEZZZEEEE MOMMY!" over and over and over.

Last night after Michael got to take his poster to school and show is classmates, he, over dinner shared that everyone agreed with him, "Mom- I was the cutest baby.  Even MacKenzie says so." 

While I dread the parent homework and the backpacks all over the floor, I guess I shouldn't complain.  For without those pesky assignments, I wouldn't have gotten to spend and afternoon with my bestest (how do you like that word?) middle child.  It was a rewarding assignment, even if I thought I left homework assignments several years ago. 

Congrats Michael on your week in the spotlight.  I hope you soak up all the attention you so willingly deserve but often times selflessly let your other siblings get.

We love you!

Until next time,
Angie

Isabelle’s School Halloween Parade…

Although I have every intention, lately it seems like I haven't been able to blog as much as I'd truly like.  It seems I start one post, get interrupted, and don't ever make my way back to what I was trying to say.  Case in point the blog below I started several weeks ago.  Please forgive me; while all the stores and local radio stations have moved onto celebrating Christmas, we're still reflecting upon Halloween.  I reflect below.

Last Thursday (actually October 31st)  at Isabelle’s school, they had a costume parade in honor of Halloween.  Although Isabelle doesn’t usually go to school on Thursday, I had asked her teacher if Isabelle could still participate and she said they’d gladly have us.

Guess what I am..  Come on, can you guess?

So that morning, we dressed her up and headed off to school.  Upon reaching the front door, I could hear crying coming from all different directions.  Opening the door, it was clear, several little people were not too happy to be dressed in their costumes.  While at first I think Isabelle was confused why she was being taken so late and why the kids were all bawling (seriously who thought 1 year-olds would know a schedule, but seriously they do), but after walking in and seeing her favorite teacher, she adjusted immediately and was convinced she was there for the whole day, never mind she was wearing a really bulky and fluffy costume.

Ms. Carmen gave Isabelle a big hug and then she turned back to gather the other kids to start walking outside for the parade.  I took Isabelle by the hand, so Ms. Carmen could focus on the other 8 or 9 crying babies/toddlers and while I was trying to think what I could do to help, I honestly felt clueless at what I could do.  Ms. Carmen always the cool, calm and happy teacher that she is, smiled and said, “They don’t like changing from our normal schedule.  That isn’t obvious is it?”  While the goal was to have the kids walk out following each other in their costumes for all parents and visitors to see and admire, the reality was there were about 4 or 5 toddlers that were not having any of it, and were not moving unless they were carried.  Thankfully Ms. Ashley the director has lots of prior experience so she disappeared into the neighboring classroom, only to reappear moments later bringing their chariot.  She cheerfully said, “Your chariot awaits precious little ones.”  The next thing I knew four babies were sat in the crib on wheels, aka Chariot and were leading the pack of 1 year olds down the hall to the playground where the parade was waiting to begin.  While I thought Isabelle might have been bothered by all the crying, she didn’t seem fazed at all.  In fact, upon exiting the door and seeing the slide, the temptation was too much and immediately she deviated from the line to attempt to conquer the 4 and 5 year old’s slide on the playground they don’t get to go to.

When one was crying, the other one would look at them and start crying.  Isabelle just sat in the middle thinking, "what in the world is going on?"

 After successfully getting all the kids outside, still more than 70% of them screaming their heads off, pulling on their costume and throwing themselves on the floor in a fit, Ms. Carmen, again as cool as a cucumber sat each child in a row and started blowing bubbles to distract them from their tears.  While my nerves were about shot after only 3 minutes of being there, she was still all smiles.  Just a small testament to the wonderful people God created to be our children’s care providers.


Here Ms. Carmen is doing her best to blow bubbles at the screaming toddlers.  Meanwhile Isabelle decided to take off her shoes and make herself comfy.

 As every single child around her screamed, threw a tantrum and bawled their eyes out, Isabelle sat perfectly content looking around and wondering why she had such a huge costume on.  Within seconds she started playing with her shoe, taking it off and trying to hand it to the bawling Isabelle next to her.  When the other Isabelle had no interest, she looked up to Ms. Carmen, raised her arm with her shoe and repeated over and over, “Shoe” as in, “Put on my shoe.” 

 I couldn’t help but laugh at the complete chaos and cuteness that was happening all in one spot.  While I was feeling the stress the teachers had to feel, I also felt my heart melting with how cute little ones are.  While the parade ended up being a complete flop for the 1 year old classroom, it was a perfect Halloween Parade.   The kids ended up getting a sucker which immediately calmed them down and  the teachers moved everyone back to the classroom where the kiddos felt safe and in their natural surroundings.  Isabelle thought it was great also.  While she wasn’t so excited to leave school, I convinced her to leave with me.  Thank goodness for that sucker.

Who needs to remove the wrapper anyway.  Doesn't it just taste the same with the paper on?

Until next time,

Angie