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