re-do

I pulled up and parked just in time for the last class of first graders to come out of the school in a line and start loading on the bus in an orderly fashion.

"Is this first grade?" I asked one of the parent volunteers.

"Yes, Mrs. K's class," she responded.

I quickly scanned the windows full of faces from the three other classes of first graders.  My eyes quickly found the little blondie I was looking for and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I tapped on his window.  He thought I was just coming to give a send off for his special class field trip, but I had a much more urgent mission.  I motioned for him to get off the bus and mouthed that I wanted to talk to him for a quick minute.

He immediately hopped up and worked his way against the incoming traffic to get off the bus and onto the sidewalk with me.

With his baby sister straddling my hip, I dropped to one knee and put my free hand around his waist.

The tears were brimming.  I could not hold them back.

"Buddy, I feel horrible for how I treated you this morning.  I am so sorry for fighting with you and for the awful things I said.  I was only thinking of myself.  Will you forgive me?" I pleaded.

He looked me directly in the eye and lo and behold, his eyes swam in tears as well.  "Yes mom, I forgive you.  I'm sorry too.  I love you.  Did you come here just to tell me this?" he responded.

"Yes!  Our relationship is important to me and I messed up big time this morning.  I'm so glad I got here before you left for your field trip.  I hope you have a great time.  I love you Rufus." I said.

I watched him get back on the bus and take his seat.  Not two moments later, the bus started to pull away.  I am so grateful that I was given the gift of getting there in time to ask for forgiveness before the school day was through.

I was such a horrible mom to him that morning.  My need for forgiveness was eating away my heart from the moment he left for school.

God has been weaving a lesson of forgiveness throughout my life for months now.  I see it all around me (after I drafted this, this very weekend our church sermon was about forgiveness.  I hear you God!) and I'm learning how to give and receive forgiveness - true forgiveness, not just apologies - in my marriage, friendships, and parenting.

It is not an easy topic for me to learn because it takes a lot of humility both when I am wrong and when I've been wronged.  It takes work on both ends to ask to be forgiven and to truly forgive - and then to choose to leave it in the past.  I'm not very good at it, in fact, I'm really good at digging up old dirt about my kids and my man.

I have been dwelling a lot lately about all the dirt that God has on me.  Enough to build me a mountain from here to Mars, yet I have confidence in the forgiveness I have received in that relationship. 

Who am I to hold on to the dirt of my loved ones?

It is not easy though. 

And I'm on the look out for re-do's.

God's math

I have written about the crazy unusual timing of our decision to adopt a child.  By the world's standards, it made no sense.  My Beloved changed jobs and left the company that had a $10,000 reimbursement benefit toward adoption and gave up his company car.  We had just emptied our savings on refinancing our house as well as buying a new(er) car for our family.

We are known by those who know us well as pretty financially anal conscious.  We plan ahead for things we want to purchase, track our monthly spending carefully (envision DETAILED Excel spreadsheet), and other than our home mortgage, we haven't carried any debt in our fourteen years of marriage.

I'm not bragging, but that was an important detail to my story.

So here we are, new job, cash poor, and deciding to adopt a daughter with special needs from China.  To us, that kind of decision could only come from God.

I have been very open with others from the beginning of this process that I am FREAKING OUT very worried about where the money for the adoption expenses will come from.  Really, we had just accepted that we were going to be taking out a loan for the thousands of dollars of adoption costs.

Accepted is a bit of an overstatement.  I should say that we realized while kicking and screaming and throwing a toddler-sized hissy fit about it.

But, pretty soon, we were in too far to quit.  People kept reassuring me that God would provide for this.

Blah-blah-blah.

After a pastor (and friend) at our church told me of several ways that God had provided for their adoption costs years ago, I quickly countered with, "That's great Eric.  But you're a PASTOR.  It is SUPPOSED to happen to you.  I believe that God does these things, I just don't believe that He will do it for us!  We're just 'regular Joe's!  My husband has a good job that pays our bills, and we live in a nice place, but we don't have the money to pay for a $20,000+ adoption without going into debt."

Lord, help me with my unbelief.

I believed that God thinks that adoption is a good thing.  I believed that He laid it on our hearts for a reason.  But I thought we would be on our own to figure out the financing.

Our homestudy was approved in July, at which point we were responsible for the next portion of payment in the process to the tune of $3,000.  We didn't have the money and we decided to wait until we had all of our documentation ready to move forward before we took out a loan to pay it.  Unfortunately, I was informed by our lovely non-human government that we would likely see the page of October on the calendar before we would receive this lovely $890 piece of paper in our mailbox.

Between July and September, we made significant household cutbacks.  Bye-bye cable television, meal plans, hand-me-downs, etc.  No extras around here.

Two Saturdays ago, my Beloved and I sat down to look at our Excel spreadsheets from the summer and put together a plan for moving money little by little into a savings account for adoption expenses as they came in.  We didn't want even one extra dollar just to be absorbed by the miscellaneous expenses paid out of our checking account.

We were expecting to be able to put some money in there, we each had a number in our head of how much we should be able to save after expenses.  We don't have huge amounts of surplus income each month, so both of our predictions were only a portion of what we already owed.

After studying our checking account and comparing it with our budgetary tracking, we realized that there was exactly $3,000 waiting to be moved out of our checking account.

Isn't that just like God?  Not $2,800, not $3,150.  Exactly the amount on the adoption invoice waiting to be paid.

My Beloved is a numbers man.  When the budget is finished each month, I depend on him to make the pie charts and the summaries and savings decisions.

He looked over everything again carefully and made the statement, "I have no idea how we had that much to save.  I can't find it anywhere."

With plans to move the money on Monday when the bank opened, we went outside to take a bike ride with our boys.  Sweet Rufus went to get the mail from the carrier as we all waited in the driveway and he handed the stack off to me.

Nestled in the middle of junk mail and bills was a simple envelope with the return address "Department of Homeland Security."

God's perfect math.  God's perfect timing.

We were both a little shaken - my faith more than my hands.  My strong man looked at me and said, "I think we have just seen God move."

Amen.

The next invoice we see will be in the ballpark of $11,000.  I'm excited to see how God's math will add up for that one.

don't make me come up there!

My man and I were fumbling with an attempt at hooking up a television antenna on our roof(something we're absolutely not qualified to do) between dinner and bedtime last night.

Mistake number one.

At first, the boys were just playing in the yard, screaming and laughing and having a sword fight with the weapons they were awarded as party favors at a birthday party earlier in the day.  Cut a pool noodle in thirds, stick a two-foot PVC pipe in the end, and ta-da, you have hours of entertainment for boys.

It started to get dark outside and we hollered to the troops to get PJ's on and brush teeth (as we were balancing a large television on the edge of a mantle, while managing marital harmony over a wire that was too short to reach where it needed to go).

I'm sure you can imagine that we were not able to actually follow through and reinforce our instructions until we finished the project-that-we-should-not-have-started-until-AFTER-the-kids-were-in-bed.

As instructed, the little angels trotted up the stairs and did exactly as they were instructed to do.

N.O.T.

We heard squealing, yelling, running, stomping, thwacking, giggling, whining, thumping, hollering, and screaming.

My beloved and I returned fire with threats of what would happen when we got up there if they didn't knock it off and do what we told them to.

Suddenly we heard the ruckus silence and drawers opening and closing and water running.

N.O.T.

This is why threatening does not work with parenting.  We were stuck to the problem television and they knew it.  They called our bluff and continued on with the wild rumpus.

We finally man-handled the wires and finished our project.  I headed immediately upstairs to man-handle my children, but was met with this:

To which I busted out laughing and went and got their dad. 

And the camera.

I don't even know what to say about the snake skin tucked into The Hunter's pajama pants.  There are no words, so I will just stop here.

sick-of-winter-fever

Some call it "Spring Fever."  But seeing that winter in the mountains lasts well into May and it doesn't surprise us to see a dusting of snow in early June, we have renamed the fever.

Each April, we get the itch.  South....must....go....south!  It is still winter here, but a four hour drive south to Moab will usually plop us in temperatures in the 70's or 80's.

This year we had a campground reservation, but had to change it to a hotel reservation due to a forecast of unusually chilly nights.  Daytime temps were to be in the mid 60's and that is double the Park City temps where we were blessed with got 12 inches of snow per day that we were away.

I can handle sleeping in the cold.  My big boys can handle sleeping in the cold.  But my littles?  I'm pretty sure they'd be miserable.  And if the littles ain't happy, Mama ain't happy.

And if Mama ain't happy.... well you get the picture.

So, we packed up the new family truckster "Ruby" (Beloved took a new job = no company car = newer used Suburban for Mama = older, kid "loved", very unmanly minivan for my Beloved) for her first road trip.

We've never had a DVD player in any car before.  It wasn't on our want list for a vehicle, but this one came with it.  Can you tell it is their first time?  We don't really sit them four across - we were just testing the headphones.

A couple of movies later, we were in Moab.  Our first adventure was the giant sand dune across from Arches National Park.  A lovely FREE piece of fun that you can just drive up to and play.  Hours of entertainment for four boys, exercise for Mom and Dad, and we (almost) felt like we were at the beach!  I guess we were, but there was no water, just desert.

Next, we saw some of these.  Just as Kenyon was commenting how despicable it is that people carve their names into the rock next to historical art, he looked down to see Rufus finishing letter number three of his name.  Luckily, some sand washed it off, but we were laughing for the rest of the trip about it.

One thing that tends to define us when we hike is that my husband we always tend to push the boys past their limit and into the depths of exhaustion.  Our first day we hiked eight miles.  My Beloved would argue that it made them into the tough hikers that they are today.  I argue that it just makes for a cranky bunch of boys on their way to the car.

The perks of hiking great distances are these:

 

AND there's this view at the "end".

I'm saving the best for last.  Check back for the story of our most fascinating hike ever (picture "127 Hours" but with both arms).

Also, just a teaser - I'll share one of our most humbling parenting moments.

it's five o'clock somewhere

Shall I say "Part One?"

Welcome to my periodic series recognizing the end of a long day - or possibly even several trying days in a row - with a rant and a glass of wine (well deserved, in my opinion).

Our household has been passing around yucky-fever-cough-snot-congestion-can't-sleep-staying-home-from-school-whiny-fussy-watery-eyed-only-want-mommy-illness for the past week.

Our little Squirt definitely had it the worst with fevers nearing 104 degrees and lots of crying for a boy who normally does a lot of smiling.

A trip (with four kids in tow) to the pediatrician won him the prize diagnosis of an ear infection and a trip through the drive-thru... pharmacy.

During our prayer time this morning, Sauce prayed that Daddy would be sure to use lots of hand sanitizer on his trip - I'd say we're all sick of being sick if we're going to the Lord about hand sanitizer.

Our neighborhood is having some sort of water issue (picture brown tinged water coming out of the faucet) and we can't use our water to drink or cook with.  Another errand was needed to the fire station where a nice firefighter loaded up my trunk with gallons of tax payer funded free drinking water.  Two days of this and it still isn't resolved.

Call me a spoiled American, but if I have running water in my house, I would like to actually, ahem, use it.

There are some more little punks at school giving my eldest a hard time and I'm growing weary of guiding him to rise above their crap antics.  I'm about ready to tell him to unleash his recently acquired cuss words karate training on them to silence them - no matter the consequences from the principal.

My beloved is on the east coast receiving some specialized training for his job, but I sure could have used him here today to kick some butt when my two middle muddles, Sauce and Rufus, couldn't get along for the life of them (for no particular reason at all, I might add).

In an attempt to "aid" their reconciliation, they spent quite a bit of time holding hands.  Then they graduated to sitting cheek-to-cheek when they still couldn't find love for each other.  Sauce was still having a hard time cooling down his hot temper, so I'm sorry to say that he was shoved out on the front porch (high temperature of 29 degrees today) and his fed up mother someone promptly locked the doors behind him.

He heard the muffled instructions to, "Calm the heck down!" through the door.  After about five minutes of teeth chattering, he came in to reluctantly make peace with his younger brother.

I thought I was feeling better, but tonight I can't take a breath without an over exaggerated coughing fit.

But since my beloved won't return until late tomorrow night, I'm heading upstairs to curl up with my body pillow that fills his vacant spot - and a healthy shot of Nyquil.

not for the timid

What I wanted to say:

"Lady, your punk second grader punched my sweet little kindergartener on the bus today.  I took care of business and got in his face and told him to keep his filthy hands to himself.  If he so much as breathes on my son again I will personally show him what it feels like to be punched by someone bigger than him!!!"

What I really said:

"Hi Jane.  This is Laurie from down the street.  How are you?  I just wanted to take a second of your time to let you know that James punched my six year old Rufus in the back while on the bus ride today.  Oh, yes he is fine, no lasting injuries.  I spoke to James at the bus stop and told him that what he did is not okay and he needs to keep his hands to himself and treat others like he wants to be treated... so I was hoping that you could reinforce that at home."

I'm really learning that it takes guts to make people, both children and their parents, accountable for their behavior.  It would have been easier to comfort Rufus and talk to only him about how wrong the boy on the bus was.  It would have been much more simple for me to give him a hug and tell Rufus that he should simply learn from others how NOT to behave.

I hate conflict.  I try to run from it.  It gives me a 20 pound weight in my stomach, shaky appendages, and occasionally shingles.  But I (thanks to my husband's support and encouragement) am not going to let life happen to my boys.

I don't mean that I'm going to protect them from all harm.  I'm not going to drive Rufus to school every day because he got punched on the bus.

But, I can't teach them that they are accountable for their behavior and not hold others accountable for theirs.  It wasn't comfortable for me to call this little boy's mom and tell her what her son did.  But I think the phone call accomplished two things:

1.  My kids know I'm on their side and I will do the tough stuff for them.  If they need me, I'm there.

2.  They know that accountability is consistent.  They are accountable for their behavior because their parents will follow through.

Lastly, this book made a lasting impression on me that it all needs to be done in love.  Rather than avoiding this boy and labeling him as a troublemaker, I made a point of telling him and his mom that we really want to develop a friendship with him and have him over to play.

There are reasons in his life why he did what he did, and the truth is that he needs kids to see the good in him.  He needs adults to shower him with love and attention and invest in him.

And even though I really wanted to throttle him I plan to do just that.

a new normal

A really good new normal.

We are in full school mode and it has been great all around.  I get up well before the kids each morning, but usually by the time I'm getting out of the shower and throwing on some clothes, they are either getting dressed or wandering downstairs to the living room for our Bible time.

Consistent.

Everything has consistency to it right now and I love that!

From our 6:45 Bible time to our friendly bus driver Joe pulling up to our street corner at 7:45, we are falling into a new rhythm.  The boys know what is expected of them, as do I, which makes us all happy.

And there are no complaints.

Although we're still in September and not January, everyone is excited for school and is much more eager to tackle tasks like, say, READING and WRITING, without whining and complaining.

No teeth pulling required.

The trade offs have been that our afternoons are not as relaxed.  I pretty much have to schedule time for the boys to chill and play before homework, soccer, dinner, and bedtime.

When I last blogged, Rufus and Squirt had yet to start their school year.  Rufus took on Kindergarten with gusto and hops on the bus each morning like he's done it every day of his life.

He did happen to start Kindergarten with a shiner though.  If he only would have listened to me about not running and jumping in a shoe store, he never would have taken a face plant into an ottoman... poor thing.

Smiling with Joe, our happy bus driver who gives us the added benefit of returning to us all the stuff our kids forget on the bus.

That very same day, Squirt went and became a big boy and started preschool.

 

Not even a, "Bye mom!  I'll miss you!  Can't you stay with me because I'm your baby?  Here, I'll shed a tear or two to make you feel better."  Nope, plopped on the rug and loved every minute of it.

Lots of people asked me what I was going to do with my very first morning with no kids at home.  I told them what I told my Beloved.

I'm getting a 60 minute massage for time served.

Then I went and ate lots of bon bons.  Because that's all I do now.

wordless wednesday

smiles and tears

Kindergarten, here we come!  Here we come!
Kindergarten, here we come!  Here we come!
Good-bye preschool, it's been fun!
Kindergarten, here we come!  Here we come!

Despite having one day of preschool left for the year, Rufus has officially graduated and will be heading to Kindergarten this fall.  Friday morning I attended my very first preschool graduation, and my little blondie was the star of the show for me.

This boy has thrived in preschool (as you will see from his smiles and singing).  His teachers Ms. Pati and Ms. Linda have such big hearts and really do love all of their students.

Being a cooperative preschool, Kenyon and I served one co-op day per month, so we got to know the routine and the kids and really appreciate the program as a whole. 

Being the co-op kid is a special privilege that the kids always look forward to.  I mean, really, who wouldn't look forward to being the line leader, choosing the wiggle songs, and serving snack?

The graduation ceremony was a little sampling of some of the songs the class routinely sang, as well as a touching speech from Ms. Linda.  Each graduate had an opportunity to sing a solo, and selfish as I am, I didn't record the entire class - just my boy.

After the ceremony, there was cake for all and after Rufus finished his cake and disposed of his trash, I overheard him say, "I need to go talk to Ms. Pati and Ms. Linda."  And he walked off in their direction.

He didn't realize that I was following him about five paces behind.  My curiosity was killing me.

He then proceeded to go up to each of his dear teachers individually and tell them his heartfelt sentiment of how much he was going to miss seeing them each week - followed by a big hug.

And, my heart melted into a puddle on the sidewalk.  I was sure to tell Pati and Linda that I didn't even tell him to suggest that he say that.

The video is purely for Aunt Louie all the relatives who adore Rufus and wish they could share in special days like this one. 

Forgive the shaky amateur video.  I was supervising three other boys as well as trying to take still photos and video and wave at my boy all at once.

the podium

Although our mountain town keeps winter alive and well until late May, our ski season is coming to a close.

Our little men finished up their ski programs this weekend and our voices are a little hoarse from our cheers.

Rufus finished his program with the Cookie Race.  Notice the foil-wrapped cookie medal around his neck.  Coach Julia was awesome and really helped lay the foundation for his future in skiing.

 

Today The Hunter and Sauce had the final race with real times and medals within each age category.

The Hunter spent the day battling the barf and diarrhea bug, but mustered up the energy to get to his race and take third place in the eight year old category.

Coach Martin named his team of boys "Princesses" and worked these boys to the bone this season.

Sauce was visibly shocked to beat out every other boy in his age group to take first place.  Coach Justin sure sharpened his skills and their team had such a blast this year.

I did get to ski with my boys a few times this year.  Here we are on top of the world last weekend.

And, my world of men - my life and pure joy...

Just so you know, this is how it all starts.  Here's our little Squirt, giggling through his first experience on skis. 

I'm sure he's picturing the turns he will carve with his brothers someday.

our little lounge lizard

Rufus got the dancing genes.

I will leave you guessing which side of the family he got them from.

I'm thinking we're going to have to watch him closely in the coming years.

things I should have blogged about - birthdays

Time flies by in my world surrounded by men. Two of my men had birthdays this fall. Our Sauce turned SEVEN in September.

I can't believe that my surprise baby turned SEVEN!!!

This boy. Oh, this boy has a slice of my heart.

He has turned into such a caring and loving person. He has undying enthusiasm for sports and a magnetic smile that just draws people in.

He is so caring and loving with younger kids and babies. Our Sauce loves to snuggle and really loves to wrestle with his dad and brothers.

And that baby that was more difficult than my first, has turned into the easiest kid in my bunch. He has proven to me that kids will just go on changing season after season. I never would have guessed that he would wind up as my dream boy.

To celebrate his seventh birthday, we had a little bowling party. Sauce invited three of his favorite friends, plus his three brothers equals a party!

Marin and Sauce are pen pals and great friends. I would like to get some legal documents in order for an arranged marriage, but My Beloved says we should let Sauce choose. Hmmm. I'll think about it.

Then in October, our Rufus went and turned FIVE on us even though I canceled his birthday and told him he had to stay a four year-old forever.

Luckily, he has Aunt Louie wrapped around his pinkie finger and all he had to do is ask in his sweet little four year-old voice for her to come from Atlanta for his birthday.

Abracadabra. Like magic, Aunt Louie appears.

This boy has continued to prove tough as nails. He is working so hard to be one of the big boys, but still needs some tender, loving, little boy care.

I sometimes forget that he needs more sleep than his big brothers and allow him to wear himself out beyond repair.

He is one of the funniest kids in the bunch. This boy can recall movie quotes like nobody's business. He can also make up some knee-slappers of his own that have sent us all into fits of laughter.

I look forward to watching his personality blossom and feel truly blessed by having him as my boy.

Another chunk of my heart lives outside my body - gone!

The best part about turning five in our house is that Dad will finally take you hunting. You must be at least five years old to join the hunt.

And chew gum.

Watch out elk. There's another Sweeney out to get you.

Have I mentioned that the boys are taking archery lessons as well?

I might need another freezer in years to come.

Happy birthdays all around. Now stop growing up.

belated mother's day

This has been a whirlwind couple of weeks.  There will be a lot of back tracking going on for the world of men memoirs.

I know the grandmas and especially Aunt Louie will love this one.

Rufus had a Mother's Day Tea at his preschool - which was actually a belated celebration due to the arrival of the swine flu in our little ski town and the resulting cancellation of a week of school.

Each kid served his or her mom punch and a little plate of goodies and then put on an adorable performance.  All the songs had either a theme of moms or love.  It was super sweet and I am so excited that I have three more years with this preschool.

Here are some clips of the songs they sang to us:

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

I may not make it through this season

I'm not talking about winter.

One of my dearest friends and probably the wisest mom I know, always tells me that my rough times of mothering are "a season."

Diapers - a season.

Tantrums - a season.

Potty training - a season.

This season with a certain four year-old boy may be the end of me.  Just to name a few incidents...

He happily gets dressed and ready for preschool on Monday, but five minutes before we have to leave, suddenly he wants to change his shirt, he's too tired and nothing is right.

Squirt was caught picking up a small piece of POOP from the LIVING ROOM FLOOR yesterday.  Yuck.  Everyone was blaming it on his diaper, but I checked his diaper and he was just wet.

The logical questioning to the older children proceeded.  Who pooped on the floor?

Denial from all three.  I threatened to check butts if I needed to.  Hunter is not known to lie, so I believed him right off.  Sauce is not known for poop accidents, so he was quickly ruled out.

Rufus.... hmmm.  Did you poop in your pants?  No Mom.  Are you telling me the truth?  Yes Mom.  Are you lying to me, because I am going to check your pants?  No Mom.  OK, drop your drawers.

Guilt confirmed.

I know that accidents happen, but lying is not acceptable in this house.

Side note:  We just finished the season of lying with Sauce, I guess Rufus felt the need to pick it up where he left off.

Today I had to take my sister to the airport to return to Chicago after a weekend of "vegging out" with me.  On the way home I took the bold initiative of swinging by Jiffy Lube, seeing that my van was 2000 miles overdue for an oil change (Dad, I hope you skipped this part).

The good thing about the Jiffy is that children can stay strapped in their carseats while the oil problem is resolved.

Unless one or two have to pee.

Then mom has to take all four into Jiffy's bathroom and consequentially into the waiting room for our van to be slicked up and ready.

That was fine.  Slightly irritating, but I could definitely handle it.

However, I made a quick stop into a craft store to buy one specific item, and that same Rufus child needed to pee AGAIN (10 minutes later) and I had to find the remote bathroom in the back of the store.  I had to prop open the bathroom door so I could see three children on the outside of the bathroom while one child peed... I was ready to go home.

Nearing the checkout, that SAME child informs me (loudly), "Mom, I have to go poop!"

Are.you.kidding.me?

I thought of denying him, but considering the incident from yesterday, I decided he might be taking my words seriously.

Back to the remote and slightly gross bathroom all FIVE of us went.  I propped the door open again, kept my eyes in two places at once and got Rufus and his needing-to-poop bottom on the toilet.

"I don't have to go poop."

Allrightythen.  How would you feel about being strapped to the roof for the ride home?

Fast forward through a very loud, tiring boy-filled day.  We were leaving swimming lessons where very often a couple of older boys will run a little ahead of me and the stroller to wait in the lobby before we go out the main doors.

Only tonight one ran right on out through the front door without his oblivious brother anyone noticing.  Only to have his mother rush out and find him outside standing by the dark parking lot.

Bedtime did not come soon enough.

On second thought, Daddy coming home from his business trip tomorrow can not come soon enough.

It's a season, right?

that took some effort

I have been known to "suggest" that we serve snacks with "less" sugar in the first grade Sunday School class that I teach at church.

When you give 20 six year olds things like Skittles, marshmallows, Fruit Loops, snack cakes and such, it gets a little rowdy in a 15 by 15 room.

Let's reserve the sugar for the teachers, okay?

Anyhoo, I just got an email from Rufus's preschool teacher explaining that they are going to be making gingerbread men on Wednesday and could we send appropriate cookie cutters if we have them.

I guess when 18 kids are eating together, there are bound to be food issues:

"We have a recipe and ingredients that are nut-free, dairy free, gluten free and vegan, so all the children can enjoy the treat."

Oh good.  For a moment I was worried.

end note:  I have no idea if anyone from the school is reading this.  If so, I LOVE our school and am glad they can be respectful toward each child's dietary needs.

all drains lead to the ocean

I overheard Rufus in the bathroom just before flushing today.

"Bye bye poop.  See you in the ocean!"

Thanks Nemo.

gross.

sweet as pie and tough as nails

Today our Rufus turned four years old.  We had our Aunt Mary Lou here from Atlanta to celebrate with a soccer party and we have had such a nice weekend together.

Rufus, we were so excited to find out we were expecting a third child.  We had such a great experience with two children, that we were anxious to add another to our clan.

My pregnancy with you was simple, healthy and easy.  I loved it.

Your delivery was my fastest out of three.  Contractions woke me up at about 3 a.m. on your birthday, we were heading to the hospital at about 6:30 a.m. and when we arrived, I was already nine centimeters dialated and completely effaced.

I was so excited to be so close to meeting you.

During my 13 minutes of pushing, my midwife Tina told me, "You have a blonde baby, Laurie!"

Because I was a blonde baby too, I pushed harder so I could meet you eye to eye.  Your daddy caught you and announced to the room full of people that we had a boy! 

We were so excited, we knew we were so blessed, and we were in love.

You were definitely the sweetest, most cuddly of all of our boys.  Still now, you have the ability to just mold your body to mine or your dad's and it is an awesome feeling.

You stand out in our family for being the only toe head.  But you also have a warm and affectionate personality that hasn't been matched.  As a baby, we thought you would be a life-long lover, but you have proven yourself to be a fighter as well.

You are tough in any argument, wrestling match, running race or anything that involves competition.  We sometimes just have to laugh at your determination to beat whatever comes your way.

I'm praying for you little boy.  I am asking that God would do great things through your determination and huge capacity for love.  I'm excited to see what He has planned!

We love you Rufus!

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sneaky, sneaky!

I was cleaning up for some friends to come over for a playdate yesterday and found something unusual sticking out from under the back side of the couch.

I reached under and pulled this out....

Someone's been very naughty!!!  I think his name is Rufus!

say what?

Rufus has had a couple very funny quotes lately.  We're thinking about having his hearing checked.

Yoda in Star Wars:  "Don't point your weapon at me, I mean you no harm!"

Rufus:  "Don't put your weapon on me, I know him!"

Weeks later, we heard this one.

Daddy to me:  "I don't really like Pinot Noir."

Rufus:  "I wike to pee in the water.  I wike to pee in the stream!"