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