Calm Waters

This is a birth story.
It is long and intense and amazing and funny and detailed.
If that kind of birth story is not your cup of tea, here is the short version:

I was pregnant for 9 months. Then I had the baby. He's fully awesome. The end.

Now if you'd like a little more information, please continue…but remember you have been warned, this IS a birth story, which includes all the UNedited thoughts and experiences of a girl who commonly is known for stepping over "the line".
You know...the "is it appropriate to say or not" line. I offer no apologies. Just that warning.
Now, go grab a cup of red raspberry leaf organic tea to strengthen that uterus as you read, sit back, and enjoy…the story of birthing our last baby.

40 weeks pregnant


**************************************************


It seemed like a fool proof plan.

When I observed my history of going into labor, I noticed that it seemed to come a few days earlier every time. So this time, with baby #4, I would assume that the trend would continue and would put us delivering about a week earlier than my Jan.15-19 due dates.

Perfect. I love knowing "the plan".

So goes into overdrive my multitasking, event organizing, control freak self, in setting up my schedule, my kids schedules, my moms schedule to help with the birth and week after, my hubby's schedule and that of my girlfriends who will be present for the big day…all this consideration for a day that not only was I hoping to go into labor, but I was counting on it. And I would make sure I had control of the situation by depending on my old faithful companion…the 4 oz bottle of castor oil. (You may remember him from this post.)

I would promptly take the required amount of the rancid stuff the morning of the pre-planned birthday, wait the allotted 2-6 hours for the effects to begin (with my mother by my side, as she had arrived the day before), call the midwives, husband, and birth team by noon, deliver the baby by dinner, and relax for a few days in the hospital where we had decided to have him, since I "should take a few days off from home to rest", as I had kept being told by everyone.

Fool proof.

The morning came to take the plunge. At 9 am, after dropping the girls off for school, I starred at the tiny castor oil bottle sitting on my counter, calling out to me that it held my destiny within. It was as if inside that little brown bottle, my beautiful new son was gestating, just waiting for me to take off the lid and release him. I could taste the sweet (gag) victory as I gulped the ounces required, quickly chased down by orange juice. And a coke. Ok, 2 cokes. And half a root beer. And half a tube of toothpaste. Seriously, have YOU tasted castor oil? Not what I'd serve at a new years eve party! Although…hehe..that COULD be a funny experiment to substitute the vodka spiked punch with a CO spiked one…filing mental note. (You should also file a mental note not to attend any of my future parties. Or at least bring your own drinks. You're welcome.)

Moving along.

I nonchalantly glanced up at the kitchen clock, oh, every 30 minutes, as I eagerly anticipated the first tummy rumble, followed by the first massive contraction, leading into this glorious birthday. Tick tick tick…1 hr, 2 hrs, 3 hrs….By 6 hours post oil gag down, I tell no lie when I say I felt absolutely nothing. Not a flinch, not a spasm, not a bubble. My heart dropped to my feet. How could this be? So, I did what any totally depressed and deflated woman would do in that situation. I grabbed my van keys, drove directly to my town bargain shop, and (Daddy G, if you are reading this, skip this part and go to the next paragraph.)… stocked up with 23 dollars of Christmas sale chocolate. And hid what I didn't devour on the way home, so that teeny fingers wouldn't rob me of my comfort. I needed this. My plan had failed me. My faithful friend, castor oil, had completely betrayed me. Oh the total disloyalty. Forgiveness would be a long hard road paved by many moons of therapy sessions. And many many chocolate covered marshmallow santas. 23 dollars worth to be exact.

Needless to say, the birthday would have to go into emergency plan B. Except plan A was fool proof. So there was no plan B. My mom was at my house now, being the complete saint that she is. She spent the days cleaning, organizing, doing laundry, walking the girls to school, playing with Prince L so that I could nap, making dinners, grocery shopping, and taking me on dates to "walk the mall" to try to convince the boy inside me to come out and play. She put up with my whining and complaining over every ache and timing every false contraction and saying I THINK THIS IS DIFFERENT about a thousand times. She made my red raspberry leaf teas for me, brought honey bagels to my room, and even offered to buy me another bottle of castor oil. Now, I try hard not to hold grudges, so I thought, that MAYBE, I had had enough chocolate to move past my disappointment with old faithful castor oil, and would give him one more chance to redeem himself. Everyone deserves a second chance right? Wrong. Backstabbed me again. Never again will I ingest that repulsive poison.

Over the next week…yes WEEK…(plan A is WAY out the window at this point), I find myself googling every little known fact about natural induction methods from around the globe. The teas, the herbs, the oils, the sex, the bumpy car rides, spicy foods, laying naked in a field on a full moon drinking lemon tea…there were a lot of suggestions. And minus a few that were WAAAAAAAY out there, I tried them all. And guess what, nothing. I began to wonder if he had set up house in there and had decided to stay in till at least 18. Although this would be fairly uncomfortable for me, I'll bet every parent of a teen out there may see the appeal of remaining in utero through the teen years. But, for me..I just wanted him out. I wanted to meet him. To know him. To love him. To fit in my size 2's again. K, so that could be pushing it…maybe my 3's.

All of the due dates my midwives and ultrasound techs had given me had come, and gone. I was now officially in the totally covet worthy category of overdue. It royally sucks to be a member of that club. And I thought I had revoked my membership 7 years ago after Queen S's birth…but apparently something got lost in translation, and here we were, invited to play tennis, at the clubhouse once again.

Side note about the location we had decided to birth at. As many of you know, Prince L was born in our home. It was a beautiful birth with midwives, family and friends around, and truly a unique experience and very different from the 2 previous hospital births I had experienced. At first, we had planned to do the same this time, but as the time came near, all I kept hearing was, "Oh, you are doing it in the hospital this time right? You know that you'll need that rest…with 4 you'll have your hands full!" Any positive comments were few and far between.

**rabbit trail from side note** Now, in situations like these, I find a waring personality within me. One side of me (the side with rocker pink spiked hair, and a variety of piercings and tattys) scoffs and says who the h*#@ cares what anyone else thinks. My birth, my way, you're not invited, neither is your opinion. And then there's the other side (she wears a chenille pink sweater accented with pearl buttons and her hair is in a nice proper bun, and her lip color matches her sweater perfectly, bubblegum pink), and she totally cares about what others think. She is a people pleaser to the core, and wants the important people in her life to approve as much as the random stranger ordering his extra hot vanilla latte behind her in the starbux lineup. She knows she can't make everyone happy, but she will darn well try. And she'd never say darn. That's a bad word. These two fight each other constantly, and I'd say it's usually a toss up as to who will win out. This time, this situation, bubblegum pink won. She just cared too much about opinions, and was swayed to do it the way that was considered "expected" and "understandable" by 99% of the opinion poll. ****

I had felt disappointed with the decision to go to the hospital, and actually cried as I packed a hospital bag (read: 2 gigantic bag/suitcases, a food bag of snacks, drinks and games, 2 king sized pillows, a nursing pillow, 2 velvet blankets, and yes even my own bed sheets, pink of course). But after the u-haul was packed for the hospital, I shut down a part of me, and told my punk rock star to suck it up, and began trying really hard to visualize what this experience would be like. I did the virtual tour online of the hospital/birth centre, saw the admitting desk, imagined myself walking the hardwood floors, soaking in the jacuzzi tub, laying holding my babe in my arms, surrounded by an unfamiliar environment and sterile medical gear. It was hard to give into the images, but I really did try to find a peace in them.

Wow, that was a long side note. But it will come in handy later to know this.

If you are still with me at this point, please take a moment and pat yourself on the back, and say, "I am an awesome friend, and Bex sure loves me!" And now go heat up the bottom of your tea, and grab something sweet, chocolatey and packed with calories…I'll wait.

Welcome back! Mmm, that looks good. Ready for more?Ok where were we?

Right. Overdue.

The morning of the 21st, I woke up crying. Like not a princess tear on the satin pillow type cry, but the type that involves snot and crusties all over the left side of your face, mascara from the night before stained on your pillow-and husbands pillow, and pure, deep, inner heaving sobs. I was startled to awake like this, and rushed back into my dreams to see what had brought me to this place. That's when I was met with this beautiful picture of a birthing pool set up in my room, at the end of my bed. Candles all around. My family and friends, some on the floor on pillows and blankets, some on the bed, cheering me on. I heard the sound of angels singing as they sat around the roof, awaiting the arrival of this prince of God, and everything was SO peaceful. I had a huge smile on my face, and gave birth right there, in my house, surrounded by people I loved. That's when I knew. I knew that even if others view me as the rebel pink haired punk who homebirthed, that's who I was in this moment, and that's who I needed to be. I rolled over in bed (NOT a small feat at this point by the way), and woke up Daddy G. I asked him if he would support my decision to give birth to our son at home. I did expect him to waver a bit and seem unsure since he thought we'd already decided on this point, but instead, he looked at me and without hesitation, said "Of course I will!" Oh how I love this man! His one stipulation was that he didn't want our 3 older children in the house when the time came, which I thought was totally fair enough. So, I woke up that morning, with a renewed excitement and vision, driven to find good places for our babes to go during the blessed event. I felt a release that morning, a peace that I had so desperately been looking for in all of this preparation. And it felt wonderful.

My midwives came over around noon, and I discussed our new plan with them. They were excited for us, as I think they always knew that's what was in my heart. They left the birth pool at my house, and said that we need to get a liner to go in it. Apparently there is only one place that carries them in my whole city, so I was encouraged to call them immediately since it was Friday afternoon, and they didn't think I'd make it to Monday still pregnant, bless their hearts! When I called, the lady said that she delivers once a week, and her next delivery date was next wednesday. I told her that I was already overdue and expected to have this babe in the next couple of days and I needed it. Now! I was nice…well, maybe a little pushy, but a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do sometimes! If I didn't get that liner, I couldn't use the pool, and THAT was not an option! She was suddenly very lovely and said that we could come to her house and pick it up that night. Which is just what Daddy G did.

He returned with the liner at 10:30 pm.

My first mild contraction was at 10:35.

The next one didn't come for 12 more minutes. Then 14. Then 21. Although these certainly hurt a bit more, (like a charlie horse in the uterus) I was sure this pattern was not bringing us closer to meeting our baby. They stayed like this, off and on, sporadic at best, yet still semi-painful when they hit, no closer than 7 minutes apart until 12:30. At that point, I thought maybe I should call the wonderful lady, Miss T, who said she's take my girls when the time came. I felt reeeeeeally guilty to call her past midnight. Especially since I wasn't REALLY sure if this was real or not. (I just knew I was going to look like a total moron when I was still pregnant 5 weeks later.) I was leaning on a stack of pillows on my bed when my mom asked if she should get the girls up for Daddy G to take over to Miss T's house. I told her I didn't know. I said to just let me go through one more contraction and I'd let her know. When that next one came, lemme tell you… I… KNEW. This was the real deal. That was the beginning of the REAL labor for me, that one contraction that declared, IT'S TIME! I had been waiting for weeks for it, and when it appeared, it did not disappoint. There was no denying it. My eyes crossed a bit and I looked up from my pillow castle and said, PACK UP THE GIRLS!

At this point, my mom mentioned I should call my midwives…just to "give them a heads up". It's not like they had to come yet. I knew we'd probably be doing the 7-10 minute contractions for a few hours yet. I was fine to do that on my own. And really, I was hoping to let them sleep as long as possible. (Why I always feel like I am inconveniencing others with my "petty" problems like oh, going into labor, is beyond me. Someone maybe with 20 years of doctorates in therapy school or something is bound to have an answer…have them call me if you find them.) But my mom urged me to call, so I did, again, feeling reeeeeally guilty for waking her up, and we talked for about 20 minutes, in which I had 3 contractions during that time. We agreed that I would call when they became 5 minutes apart. The moment I hung up, things really picked up. Daddy G was setting up the birth pool in our living room, I called my 2 girlfriends to come over as I promised we were pulling an all-night party, (as I crossed my fingers hoping I was right…still didn't *quite* believe it) and then suddenly noticed these contractions were all coming only 3 minutes apart. Where the h#$% did the 5 minute mark go?!

I suddenly felt panicked, and thought for a moment, "What if the midwives don't make it?" Daddy G has a book called "Worst Case Scenarios", and I was really hoping he read the page on delivering your own baby. I called them right back, and they said they were on their way. When I got off the phone, I was SO ready to jump in that pool. I went into the living room, expecting to be able to strip down and dive in (Oh wait, there is a note on the floor of the pool that reads: ABSOLUTELY NO DIVING…I kid you not. Bahahaha, well there's goes my birth plan….what on earth??) Instead of a pool full of nice warm water ready and waiting for me, I was met with the scene of my dear husband with the liner over top his head, trying desperately to figure out how it fit properly into the pool. Part of me wanted to laugh, he looked hilarious, but the other part of me, the part who was probably already at 12 cm with a head half out of me, took over as I roared "I NEED THAT POOL! LET'S GET A MOVE ON!"

Things are a little blurry as to what happened next. All I know is people began to show up, and my house was suddenly filled with 6 women, one husband, one 2 year old son fast asleep upstairs, and a whale of a momma ready to close this pregnancy chapter! It was 2 am, the pool was filled, I was inside, candles were lit all around, inspiring music played in the background and I swear if you listened close enough, you could hear the angels whispering. It felt just like my dream. It was beautiful. And all I could do was smile.

When contractions would hit I would sing, or laugh, or try the hypnobirthing breathing/relaxation methods I had been practicing (yeah, that book's out with the Tuesday trash! Ha!) There was one contraction where suddenly I began to bawl. My midwife asked if they were getting more intense. I told her no. At this moment, I was realizing this was it. The last time that I would be birthing. And it was instantly very very emotional. I wanted to remember everything. And feel everything. And be present for it all. Before it was all a memory. A birth story. Words on a computer screen.

If you remember Prince L's birth story, you may remember the moment of transition. When you feel like a caterpillar whose guts are being squished out by a curious preschoolers sticky fingers. I kept waiting for that moment, because then it'd mean we were close to meeting our babe. The thing is…it never came. The contractions never got more intense from the very first one that declared it was birth time. In fact, the only way I knew that I was in transition was because they were suddenly only 1 minute apart…and then…BLOOP…out popped a bubble. Yep, I birthed a bubble. It was the size of a baby's head. But it was not a baby's head. It was a white bubble.

I felt confused and asked my midwife if that was the baby's sac. She said it was. But of course! My water had not broken. Side note: in the last few days of this pregnancy, I tried to go out every day to as many public places like malls and stores and restaurants as I could. Not just to distract myself and pass time faster, but call me sick and twisted, I ALWAYS wanted that movie scene to happen to me…you know, the one where the girl is standing in the grocery store check out and suddenly POP, water breaks everywhere, and she exclaims OH! MY WATER JUST BROKE! And everyone shouts hoorays and congrats and applause fills the air and flowers are thrown at her feet, and that hot fire fighter whose in line behind her sweeps her up and carries her into the ER.

Well. Apparently MY waters…they're made of fiberglass, and they don't break. So, this being our last babe and all, I will have to surrender to the fact that this walmart flower fireman water breaking moment will never happen to me. So, IF it happens to YOU, please take pictures, or better yet, video, and send it to me so I can live vicariously. Appreciate it.

Back to the bubble. There I was birthing a bubble, when suddenly, I felt, what can only be described as a very tribal roar rising within me, and then, in that bubble, was a beautiful boy's little head. And 2 moments later, his shoulders and body followed. I broke the water sac off of him and pulled my sweet boy out of the pool and onto my chest. I was laughing hysterically, and could not believe that only an hour after my midwives arrived, here I was, holding my boy on the outside.



Kade Jackson Dean was born at 3:06, January 22, weighing 8 lbs-2oz (my smallest babe), measuring 20 inches, and with a beautiful head of dark brown hair!! (ALL my other babes were bald bald bald, so this was an awesome surprise!!)


Getting weighed:


Daddy cutting the cord


Smiling at Gramma:


His name means calm waters, which is so appropriate since he was born into calm waters and also, as we are getting to know him, it's very apparent that he has a very calm and peaceful nature about him. And apparently to be born in the sac as he was, or in the caul, is considered very rare and a sign of great blessing, and that the child will have an important destiny…but we already knew that. ;)

The water sac he was born in (possibly a good shower cap? I know, I'm crazy.):



We are all absolutely smitten with him…well…Prince L is still a little unsure…but as soon as Kade can burn the ants with the magnifying glass with him…I'm sure they'll be best of buds. ;)


**Thank you God for Your presence all around during this pregnancy and birth. And most of all, thank You for this precious gift of Kade. We pray that you bless him and keep him and make Your face shine upon him all the days of His life.**

The people there:
Proud Daddy G


My girls, J & J


Gramma


Cousin R


Plus J and S, my wonderful midwives. Shoot, didn't get a picture of them together.

And of course, the star of the show, Kade!


With proud sisters!!




And a very satisfied and son

Need YOU.

I am on my way to bed, as I am dead tired, but I have something on my mind, and I need to share with you and ask for you to join with me in prayer.

I have two of the most beautiful ladies in my life, J and S, who are both dealing with infertility. They will both be amazing mothers and they both have amazing husbands, and I am so so so excited to see their families expand. But it's only through a miracle of God that this seems to be possible for them.

That is so strange for me. I get pregnant when Daddy G sneezes on me. (Ok, not really, go look at page 274 of your biology 10 textbook if you need a refresher.)
It just breaks my heart, and I cry..like heave cry, like the ugly cry, over the longing in these ladies hearts for just ONE of what I have been given many times over. It seems not fair to me. And I had to really come to God with my feelings of guilt over me being able to get knocked up so easily while they travail. Ugh, it tears me apart. But you know what He told me..He said to not feel guilty, but to feel thankful. And He said to pray. On my knees beside my bed, in my car, at the grocery store, while watching a movie, while on my computer, while riding a bike, while watching MY babies play and laugh and bring me so much joy, wherever I am, whatever I am doing, anytime I think of them, which is a lot, I can pray!! And I do, and I have been, and now I want YOU to join me!

So, tonight, again, it is heavy on my heart to pray. And to believe...that God is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think. (Eph 3:20).

J is in the midst of an IUI process right now as you read this. PRAY with me. BELIEVE with me. That a new little life will begin THIS WEEK!!

S has plans to try IUI again down the road, PRAY, and BELIEVE that she won't have to because the Lord will open her womb naturally before then.

Can not WAIT to share the GOOD NEWS of babies on the way with you very very soon!!!

Thank you friends!
Now I am REALLY going to bed.

Stream of Consciousness

I am 25 weeks pregnant this week.
With a baby boy.
Which I'm really really excited about.
I can't wait to meet him.
His name changes nearly every day.
Hopefully it won't change every other day after he's born.
Yesterday, after I assured a stranger that I was not actually due until January, his eyes bulged as he looked at my belly, and asked if it was twins. I lied. And said yes. Cause I wanted him to go away.




Queen S is in grade 1.
She is a very diligent student, her teacher says.
This doesn't surprise me.
A boy in her class asked ME if he could marry her.
This did surprise me.
Although it shouldn't have.
She's a catch.
And the boys already know it.
I may home school her. ;)



Princess B is in kindergarten.
Her teacher believes she's a genius.
That makes me smile.
B still talks about the "humans" as though she is not one.
That also makes me smile.
She woke up this morning and told me she was happy because her cough was gone.
Then she puked in the bathroom sink.
That does not make me smile.
Poor baby.



Prince L is 2 years, 3 months and 6 days.
He loves trains.
I hate the Thomas the Train TV show.
He's never seen it. So far.
He is such a little lover.
Much more affectionate than either of my girls were at this age.
I told him the other day as we were driving that I really like the moon in the day time.
He looked at me, knit his eyebrows together, and nodded like he sincerely cared, and said "OK."
He may actually think I am nuts.



Daddy G is a good Daddy.
He reads the girls Jesus stories before bed.
And they ask him really deep questions.
I like to listen in, when he doesn't know I'm there.
His answers are always better than mine would be.
He actually teaches me most of the time too.
I love this man.
He's a really good husband.
He rubs my back or my feet every night.
With lotion.
It is bliss.
I don't think he *loves* doing it.
But he does it anyways.
Because he know I do love it.
And that makes me adore him even more.



I guess that's mostly what's on my mind.
These lovely people who are mine.
Oh, that and I think I'll boycott dinner tonight, and just make Eggo waffles.

Heated Marble Floors

Some of you may have seen pictures on Facebook of our recent boat trip.
Seemed like a great day of fun, no? (Besides the crying baby...)

Well, it's time to confess...the crying baby was the LEAST of our issues that day!

We have a FABULOUS babysitter. Lexie. My girls ADORE her and want to be JUST LIKE HER when they grow up, which btw, I am totally ok with, because she is a total gem! On Saturday, it was her 14th birthday, so our two families decided to take our awesome boat...fine...THEIR awesome boat...out on one of the many lakes around our area to celebrate with sun, fun, and bbq food on a private beach. GREAT idea, right?

There were two lakes we were debating between, and decided on Lake A over Lake B because, "being a long weekend and all, Lake A will probably be less busy." After an hour of driving, (and listening to enough "Mommy, I'm hungry"'s to make you want to stuff an entire burger bun in your kids mouth just to keep them quiet) we were getting close to the gates of the park...when we began to notice both sides of the road lined up with parked cars and trucks and empty boat trailers. For miles. Parked cars. M-I-L-E-S. Once we reached the boat launch, Daddy G and Lexie's dad dropped us off to hurry up and wait in the boat as they went to the back of the car line up to park...and then walk back to us. Another hour, and almost an empty hamburger bun bag later, the men returned already looking a bit frazzled, and our FUN trip hadn't even begun yet!

After all our lifejackets were on and everyone was situated in their seats, both of my girls decided that was the perfect time to announce that their bladders were going to burst. Being the good mother I am, I told them they could hold it...for an hour...over rocky, bumpy waves...ok...that's not going to happen. I inwardly sighed, (read: tore my clothes, poured ashes over my head and wailed uncontrollably), smiled understandably (read: glared at Daddy G, begging him with my eyes to do the portapotty duty), and undressed the 14 layers off the girls (did I mention there was NO sign of sunshine on this JULY 31, and I actually brought along our winter parkas...just in case we ran into a snow storm out there, which felt like a real possibility at this moment) to take them back out of the boat, up the hill to empty themselves in a glorified, yet still reak ridden, hole in the ground.

Upon return, nearly 2.5 hours after the time we had PLANNED to set sail...Lexi's dad turned the key to crank up our kickin ride. Time to get this party started!! Chick chick chick....again....chick chick chick....nothing. No motor sound. No roaring engine. Dead. The battery of the boat...dead. Really? Ok, at this rate, let's just toss the kids in the lake...they all have life jackets after all, and lets just float over to the private beach that glows with the promise of vacation relaxation, complete with beach boys bringing us all virgin pina coladas at beckoned call. Lexie, always the optimist, said, "It's ok dad...we have another battery in the truck." Have we forgotten that the men needed to run a near half marathon to GET to the truck? My kids were still saying they were hungry, since it was past lunch time now, and I thought that the smoke piling out of Lexie's dad's ears could have at least served a purpose to heat up the hot dogs.

Lucky for us, the boat behind us in line to get out on the lake had jumper cables and was so kind to jump our battery. After 3 tries, Benton the boat roared to life, and we were FINALLY on our way...I could hear Shania Twain singing somewhere off in the yonder...oh oh oh...it only goes up from here... I mean, it HAD to get better now right? A few minor obstacles, but now the vacation begins!

Blood-curdling SCREAMING. That's what filled my ears for the next 30 minute boat ride. It was very windy and the waves were very choppy and my 2 year old was very very loud! He HATED being tied into his lifejacket. He HATED being on the boat. He HATED the water splash his face. He HATED the wind whip his eyes. I was holding him so tight, b/c I was sure at any moment he was just going to decide he had had enough and toss himself overboard.

Just as his face was turning a nice shade of purple and his vocal chords were becoming hoarser by the second, we saw the first glimpse of the beach. There were several inlets to chose from, so naturally, we picked the one with the fewest boats anchored. And unbeknownst to us, possibly the worst place in the whole lake to try to dock a boat. Lexie's mom, Tina and I and all of my babes, all swam on to the beach...ok, who am I kidding, I am a girlie girl, and a total wimp...yes, I got Daddy G to piggy back us all, so that no part of my body would have to touch that freezing cold water. He's my hero. For real. Because after we were on the beach, we watched him dive down to the bottom of the lake over and over, with the boat anchor, trying desperately to find a lone rock in the sand to secure the boat. After an hour and a half of this, Lexi's dad thought we should try a spot further down. As he backed the boat up, he passed another "parked" boat, and the owner, who was on the beach and watching our whole anchoring fiasco, started FREAKING out that we were going to "cut his line" that anchored him to the bottom. Our boat wasn't even close. He started yelling obscene profanities at Lexie's dad and I could already see the upcoming bloody boxing match between these two once he finally made it onto land. We weren't making friends.

It was about this time that I needed a break, and really, I needed to pee. Have I mentioned I am a girlie girl? I don't camp. Unless it's in a fully equipped RV, complete with running water, a kitchen, a hot tub, cable TV, heated marble floors, and of course a toilet. Then...maybe. But there were no RV's around. And no toilets. So I enlisted my girls to hold up a towel in front of me, as my cover, while I attempted at least 7 different squat positions. Finally, just as I thought I may have found a winner, Bree got tired of her duty, dropped her end of the towel, and the whole lake and anyone on it, got nice view of a pregnant , half naked woman peeing all over her yoga pants.

The men had now successfully anchored the boat to a rock and a tree, praying that it wouldn't suddenly drift away, and were lugging the bbq gear over to where we were. FOOD! Finally. A good 4 hours "late", but none the less, we were going to eat! We slapped those hamburger patties and hotdogs onto the bbq, closed the lid, and drooled as we anxiously awaited our nostrils being filled with the smells of the promise of tastebud heaven. We waited. And then waited some more. Oh, and then after that...we waited. Finally, we lifted the lid to see 10 very raw dogs and burgers. The bbq wasn't working. Ok. Improv. How bad was it REALLY to eat raw patties? Like come on. All that salmonella stuff...does that REALLY happen? Come on kids...eat up! YUM!

K, maybe not.

After tampering with levers and buttons, the bbq suddenly decided to work, and now nearly 5 hours after lunch time, we had the BEST hot dogs and burgers known to mankind.

Seeing as though it was now dinner time, we had to head back. So our relaxing beach day, ended up being about 45 minutes on a rocky terrain, being whipped by the wind as we picked the sand out of our teeth. Happy Birthday Lexie!

We did end up tubing on the way back, which was A LOT of fun...for the kids...MY heart was about to jump out of my chest at every wave they crossed.

Last, but not least, would a long weekend/birthday boat ride be complete, without returning to your vehicle to find it had been broken into, your locks had been completely wrecked and your ipod, cash and various small item ripped off?? Yeah. Good times. That was Lexie's dad's truck. The smoke again, from his ears, could have easily cooked a better hamburger than that bbq any day.

Next time they may just want to leave the boat behind, and join us in our heated marble floor RV.

Inside the minds..

Kids have this fabulous sense of, well, I guess wonder is the word.

Today, someone dropped off a bag of hand-me-downs for my girls. Now, this bag was not the kind that included skid marked undies, tomato soup stained onsies and hole ridden flood pants. This was the Osh Kosh/Carters/Children'sPlace/Gap bag of hand me downs. So needless to say, some super cute stuff.

Although I DO live in the freezing cold north, apparently my country DID get the summer memo (albeit MUCH later than we were hoping), and it has been GLORIOUSLY in the mid 30's...oh...for you Yankees, that's like 200 F...oh, maybe not...um, hold on...google says that's 95ish. So, hot. And lovely. And hot. And I LOVE it. Moving on.

Much of the new duds in the clothing bag will be PERFECT for my girls...in the winter. Sweaters and ponchos, heavy pants and jackets. This is where the "wonder" sets in. Who the heck cares that it's 'fry an egg on the sidewalk' hot out...new clothes MUST be worn. So I am, in as little clothing as I can get away with, watching my children play in the backyard, by the pool, in a winter jacket and a wool poncho. I asked several times if they were hot, and both replied with a resounding NO, and I was even informed that it's actually quite cold and windy out. (As my popsicle melts the second the freezer door opens.)





Speaking of wonder...do you ever wonder HOW a child can watch the SAME movie or episode of a show a MILLION times and still laugh at the same places and still find it so entertaining, and still have their eyebrows raised in anticipation as they wonder what...oh WHAT will happen next? Like seriously? Lightning McQueen gets Sally the Porsche and they live happily ever after...you KNOW that don't you?! Did you miss that little fact the last billion times you watch it? Oh...NOT that my children watch shows a billion times** Ahem** For, naturally, as the receiver of multiple "Mommy-of-the-year" awards, I am fully aware to only let my child watch an hour a day...er...a week...oh, what? ...a month, I mean. Yes, of course, an hour a month. Don't want their brains to go to mush or their eyeballs to go crossed or their Mommy to get any laundry done...I digress.

What else amazes me is how my 2 year old BOY (I must add that in here because my girls NEVER did this) , could find hours of pleasure in following around random critters on our cement patio in the back. I mean on hands and knees, scraping the baby soft skin right off his precious little shins, with his eyes as big as saucers as he doesn't let them out of his sight. Well, until they crawl into the line of Juniper trees. Then he scowls, sits there wearing an utter look of defeat, and in his best Swiper the Fox voice, says, "Aww Maaaan!" I guess he had about had it the other day when a tiny little unsuspecting ant he was stalking was just about to disappear into the juniper jungle, and instead of letting him go his merry way, he immediately placed his pointer finger right on top of it. He lifted his finger to his face to peer at his prize, and as the little ants legs all squirmed in a futile protest, something came over my little man, and he popped that treasure right into his little mouth. Seeming completely proud of himself, he glanced over his shoulder, looked at me and gave me his best toothy grin. I was far enough away, that I could not tell if that grin included little black legs in between his teeth. Ew. I shudder even now. I am such a girlie girl. Like honestly, what in BLUE BLAZES would make anyone want to put something moving and creepy in their mouth. It is far beyond me.

Children, creatures of wonder. Sometimes it makes you grimace and gag, and other times, it's a great lesson to maybe, yourself, find a little wonder in the everyday world we've become so accustomed to. I don't recommend eating bugs though. Even on Fear Factor. ESPECIALLY on Fear Factor.

NOT ME MONDAY

5 months it's been.

I'm so sure your lives have been so depressing without my insanely wise ramblings. I apologize for your increased counseling bills, the higher than normal chocolate consumption, and any wild and irrational neon hair colors that have resulted from my absence. (Ahem, Julie.)

What better day to come back to the bloggisphere than a NOT ME MONDAY ?
So for your Momma Bex update, I give you 5 months of NMM's that have been piled under my TOTALLY clean carpet...

1) We do not live in the freezing cold north. We do not throw massive parties when the mercury rises above O. And we certainly would not throw our children outside to swim just to get some peace and quiet inside the house...especially if they still needed a cheetah fur coat on to fill the pool...


2) My "baby" is not a total piro, and did not knock over a candle on our dinning room table, only to singe off Queen S's most favorite doll's hair. And he is such a sensitive boy, he definitely did not laugh hysterically at the sight of her prized possession aflame.


3) This is Princess B. Remember her? She's super sweet and caring and gentle and actually quite shy. So there's no way that only seconds after this shot was taken at a local park, she let out a scream that would put any horror film star to shame, and then grabbed this poor unsuspecting boy's ear, stared him down with fury in her eyes and breathed in his face the words, "My wheel. Don't ever touch again."
Never! NOT my kid. Nope.


And now a few point form NMM updates:

My Queen S is not growing up way too fast and certainly did not graduate kindergarten last week. I do not officially have a grade one-er. Sigh.


It appears that Queen S will be the only school aged girl in our family as Princess B will not be going into kindergarten this September. There's no way that she's already that age.


I am NOT old enough to be mother to TWO school aged babes!! I will NOT be turning 30 in less than 3 weeks. I will always be 18. Forever.


My precious baby boy is still a baby. He did not have his 2nd birthday last week, and he is not amazing me every day at how much he has changed and learned in his first 2 years. Not that he IS two. Just saying, uh, if he WAS 2, he'd sure have learned a lot. Yeah.


And lastly,

this is not me.

At 12 weeks pregnant.

With baby #4.

Because we are, ahem, were , done at 3.

My sunshine

I like to think of this blog as kind of a journal. (Uh, one that the whole world is privy to.) I want to be able to look back when I've lost my mind (which could be next week at the rate things are going), and remember the little moments, and the big moments which when all melded together, created my life. (The guy in charge of the slide show at my funeral should have it pretty easy. Just stick this on the screen, and you'll pretty much get the jist.) So, in lieu of sharing moments, it just so happens, today is the anniversary of a very special moment indeed. Let me rewind waaaaaay back into the past, where all things were in black and white and men were always in suits...yes, 6 long years ago. It all began when...(insert austin powers type multi-color tye-dyed spinning swirl here)

**Jan.31, 2004**

Well, here we are. The day we've been counting down to. And it's going to come...and go. I have a feeling baby wants to stay in the tropics a bit longer- which I'd say is pretty smart since we just got 2 feet of snow dumped on us! Although I don't think baby will join us today, there still seems to be something magical about the due date. It still feels a bit like Christmas. Is that strange? Hmm. I am JUST beginning to get better from a 2 week stint of laryngitis & strep throat. I have a little bit of a voice today...finally. It's been SO frustrating! I want to be ALL better when I deliver. Only thing now is I think I made King G sick. Ooops. :( Anyways, baby, I can still feel your feet up in my ribs, and I am SO excited to finally touch them and kiss you. Come and join us! I can't wait any longer! Mommy and Daddy love you SO much!! xoxo

**Feb 3**

...and I wait. wheezing in between the odd clear breath I can get. The mountains outside my window actually look warm, like they are wearing a white velvet blanket, in all that snow. The repetitious sound of our washer and dryer hums a rather soothing note to my soul. The softness of our "right out of the dryer" bedsheets and the fresh smell of fabric softener brings me back to being a well cared for child. Makes me want to stay in bed all afternoon. And then, of course, there's you. My precious miracle who constantly reminds me that you are completely out of room in there, with your not so gentle kicks and squirms. The question of "is today the day"? has long lost it's wonder. As the clock ticks and each second brings you closer to me, it may as well be an eternity today. So, I wait. For 2 hours, 2 days, 2 weeks, who knows? And what does it matter? Soon you will be in my arms, and we will begin to experience a love that is far different than all we've known up till now. I will be a mother...your mother.

**Feb 5**

12 Noon:
I AM GETTING CONTRACTIONS!! My back is SO achy. Is this it? The real deal?Oh please Lord, let this be it!! Time to start timing these, see what we are looking at here! **Lord God, be with me. Give me Your strength. Please please keep baby safe and healthy. Give me, G, doctors, nurses, Jen and Mom wisdom, and may the final stage of this journey be a testimony of your amazing mercy, love and peace to all involved. WELCOME TO THE WORLD PRECIOUS!!**
(Oooo, I wonder I wonder...are you blue or pink????) :):)

**Feb 6**

(My amazing friend Jen (who has been with me in every delivery) writes from here on...I was a little busy. ;))
(warning: the following is a birth story, and if you are a man, you may be disgusted and possibly hurl if you continue on, and if you are a pregnant or hormonal in any way woman, you may bawl your eyeballs out. Please prepare right now accordingly.)

Jen & mom arrived at the hospital around 8am. You have been laboring since noon yesterday and are 2-3 cm dilated. You still look strong and confident. Contractions are every 5 minutes. You just spent 45 mins in the shower and I told you stories (at your request). :) G and mom went to the cafeteria for some breakfast. You are doing amazing! G is now awake and ready to go! Haha. You two are hugging right now...awwww. :) It's just about 10 and you are going to walk around for a bit. In the last 15 mins you have had 4 contractions. You keep saying they are in your bum. :P They are much stronger now and Carol (nurse) just came to put the monitor on to check the heartbeat, she will check how dilated you are shortly.

You just threw up during a contraction. They are suddenly getting really intense. The nurse is coming to examine you. UGH! It's 11 and you are still only 3 cm and contractions seem very painful right now. Nurse is calling Doc. M to ask about giving you some drugs. He said yep! She just gave you some gravol and fentanyl ...they are kicking in ...ahhhhh, better. :)

12 noon and you had a nice little rest and the fentanyl was a GOOD thing. :P

Doc.M will come after lunch to break your water. They have put a drip on to induce your labor - oooooo- the contractions are back and intense. 3-4 mins apart. You got sick again, cause they are so strong. But you are now sitting on a lazy boy chair with a cold cloth on your head.

My guess for when baby comes is 4:19. Daddy G says 2:55. Gramma thinks 5:30. Tick tock, waiting to seee-eeee!!

12:55 and G and I just came back from eating and are hearing the nurses talking about an epidural.

Lord, we pray that you would bring peace and that you would cause the baby and Becky's body to do what it needs to do.

The nurse will examine you at 1:30ish and hopefully you will have dilated. LORD PLEASE!!

It's 2pm and you are in the shower. G is with you. Doc.M is on his way to assess things. Hoping baby is in the right position so we can get this party ON!!

Oh baby...hurry...mama is looking so tired.

Doc.M broke your water at 2:20. "Coolest feeling EVER" so you said. :P haha. Contractions were strong and consistent now. YOU ARE 7-8 CM NOW!!! WOOO HOOOO!

3PM, and you are exhausted. It's been 27 hrs of labor so far. So you said YES to an epi. And it's in...ahhhhhhhh....feeeeeels gooooood.

It's now 3:25 and baby will be here very soon. You have a BIG smile on your face and are singing along to a Christina Aguilera song. Haha. Daddy G and Doc.M are talking MAC COMPUTERS!! HA!!!

Gramma predicts its a boy. Doc.M and I are thinking girl. Daddy G is leaning towards girl, and you are SURE it's a boy...but really have no clue.

5:20 and the epi is wearing down, you are feeling a lot of pain again. Dr. Coz (the epi man) can't come yet...OH!!! You are FULLY DILATED nurse just said!! YAY!!! BECKY YOU ARE DOING IT!!! I am so proud of you!!

You are pushing!

GOOD GIRL BECKY!!!

(Oh, and your mom got her peanuts) <-----I STILL have no idea what that was about. :P

7:10, you look SO tired, but you are doing well.

You are pushing!

AHHHHHHHH!!!!



Born 7:46pm
Feb 6, 2004
8 lbs, 3 oz
19 inches

BECKY YOU WERE AMAAAAAZING!!!!!

WELCOME TO THE WORLD LIL PEANUT!!!! :D

(If you remember Baby L's birth story...yes, this one was a weeeeee bit different. ;))

**Feb 7 am** (the new mommy writing again)

Welcome to the world Queen S! :D
You are SO beautiful! You were born with copper hair!! I can't believe that! I LOVE IT!! There were TEN babies born here last night!! Nurses blame it on the full moon. Riiiiiight. So, needless to say, the maternity ward was loud with crying all night...but not from you. :) You are quiet and peaceful. One nurse told me that out of all 10 babies, you are the only one who picked up breast feeding right away! You smart girl you! You are so amazing. I am absolutely overwhelmed with the love I have for you!

Thank you Jesus for this precious gift. Thank you for choosing ME as her Mother. Guide me and G as we raise her to be the woman that you have designed her to be. Bless her in all that she does, in her comings and goings, be right beside her. Place in her heart a hunger for You, to know you, to honor you, to love you! I feel speechless, like words can not grasp the intensity of this precious gift You have entrusted us with. Thank you God, for her life, for every breath she takes. She's been breathing for less that 12 hours and I already feel like I have been blessed beyond measure. You are a good God. All the time. All the time.


6 YEARS AGO TODAY!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY PRECIOUS GIFT!

It has been SUCH a joy being your momma and watching you grow and learn and love life the way you do over these past 6 years. You are such a shining star! You have a gift of gentleness, just like that first day you were here. You are kind, and thoughtful and sensitive to others. You make me so so proud. Such a big helper, and such an amazing little friend I have in you. I love having our date nights and talking about heaven, and how reindeer fly, and how to say words in french. You are my sunshine...when skies are gray...
I love you truly, madly, deeply.
Have a wonderful day today princess.
Butterfly, Bear, Fish and sloppy kisses,
~Momma

Timing Is Everthing

Cindy* climbed onto the huge 747 plane with blueprint plans in her head and giddy expectation in her heart. The time had come to finish building the school she had designed for the children of an impoverished country,who had stolen her heart 3 years prior. Had she packed all she needed? Toothbrush! Did she forget her toothbrush? Surrounding her were many other passengers eagerly awaiting take-off, and contemplating their own questions. There was the large man in 17B, wearing the blue striped button down dress shirt, who was listening to Enya on his ipod, trying to calm himself, as flying was not on his top 10 favorite things to do list. There was the young couple in 22E&F, who were holding hands, despite their sweaty palms, chattering non-stop about how exciting it was to finally, after so long, be on the plane that would take them to meet their first adopted child. In row 5, seat A, sat a woman who had just lost her husband to a long and tiring fight with lupus, and was now hoping to get some peace as she flew back to their homeland to bury his remains there.

The flight attendants rehearsed their safety spiel for what was probably the one billionth time, and then they were off. It was a 6 hour flight, and besides the orange juice that spilled in 27C's lap, it was a relatively uneventful one.

Upon landing, Cindy stood in line as the passengers were anxiously watching for the grand door of the plane to open and release them. This next chapter of their lives was calling, which at this point, unbenownst to anyone, was one that very much tied them all together. When Cindy reached the opening of the plane, she was slammed with the powerful heat and smells and sounds of a world much different that what she had been used to. She walked down the extended metal stairs, right on to the tarmac, and smiled as the Caribbean style bongo and xylophone band welcomed her to their country.

Once inside the overcrowded, dimly lit airport, she clung to her passport as the passengers were herded like cattle through 5 different customs gates. Some made it through within seconds, receiving their stamps of approval. While others were being questioned and scrutinized for what seemed like forever in the thick muggy heat. Cindy was praying that she would be part of the first group, and be whisked through, so that she could make it for her 5pm check in at the prestigious hotel that was awaiting her. All she could think of was laying her tired body on a nice soft bed in a room that was blissfully air conditioned! Once the man ahead of her was through, she pulled out her best smile and semi-confidently strode up to the gate. A small dark man with a bald head and large beady eyes snatched her passport with a huff, flipped through in a rush, then suddenly stopped. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the stamps on page 12. He slowly looked up at her, his eyes, little judgmental slits, and commanded her directly into a holding room.

UGH! Cindy was completely baffled and totally disgruntled. How unnecessary! How annoying! What on earth could she have been sent in here for? She was a stand up citizen! The very worst thing she'd done in her life was when she stole a pack of cough drops from the local corner store when she was 9. Oh, and her mother made sure of it that she'd never do that again!

After an hour of waiting and contemplating and sweating, a customs guard poked his head in to the tiny holding room, nodded once, said that she's free to go, and slammed the door behind him. No questions. No prodding. No interrogation. Annoyed, she picked up her luggage, which had been tossed off the carousel on to the cement floor, since most everyone else from her flight had already left. In fact, she was 1 of the last 5 passengers from her flight that got on the airport shuttle bus that was to take them to the promise of a cool room in a quiet spacious hotel.

She lay her head back on the tall vinyl bus seat, and tried to relax as they bumped through the pot holed gravel road. There really should be seat belts on here, she thought. The bus had only been plodding along for less that 5 minutes when it happened. It reminded her of a ride at Disneyland where the vehicle shakes violently with you inside it, trying to invoke thrill and fear all at once. Only this time, it was no ride, and as the cinder block houses on either side of the road began to crumble and fall into the street, the fear was very real. The deafening slams of concrete, the crashes of metal vehicles, the shrill screams of people, so so many people, was soon all that was echoing though the debris filled air.

*******

As stories began to come out over the next couple of days of death tolls and damage quotes, Cindy sat shocked and even humbled as she stared at the front of a newspaper. On it was a picture of the decimated ruins of the hotel she had had a 5pm check in time at. Many of the passengers she flew with on that American Airlines flight, who did not get held up at customs, were checking in right at the time that all hell broke loose. Many were now buried under tons of concrete rubble. And she, she had been detained. For no apparent reason. Held back. Saved. What seemed like an utter inconvenience, was now the sole contributor of her having breath in this very moment. How humbling. How coincidental? How divine.



**This is my fictional version of a real event I read about in the paper this week. Cindy* is a lady from my area who was in Haiti, at the time of the earthquake. She was spared, when many others were not. May this be a reminder to you. The next time you can't find your car keys...the next time the train fully stops when you are parked at the railway crossing...the next time your spouse is 2 hours late to pick you up...just think, maybe, just maybe it's all part of a divine plan, one that may even include sparing your life.**

Teeth and Tutu's and Tv's, Oh My.

Any woman who has had the opportunity to care for something like, oh, a child, or even a beloved pet, might know all too well about what I am going to share with you.

If you have a man in your life, a husband, a boyfriend, a partner in crime who helped you create, adopt or purchase that something special to care for...you may have similar stories to contribute at our virtual latte table here.

Disclaimer: Daddy G is a fabulous, hands on Daddy, who adores his children, and I am so very beyond blessed that he is the Daddy in our home. I have several evening committments throughout the week, and I completely trust him with all 3 of our (never-rambunctious) children...

....he just may do things a little different than I would at times...

I know that DG certainly would put all the darling babes in mountain-fresh laundered pj's before bedtime. No way would I come home to find B fast asleep in a *way too small* ballerina tutu on her bottom and my wedding veil wrapped around her top. And no way would baby L be sawing z's in a *way too big* pair of flannel overalls(don't even know where's those came from) with hardened pieces of macaroni encrusted on it. Lucky for S, she just got to peacefully drift off to dreamland wearing the same clothes she went to school in that day.

I'm also fully aware that, just like me, DG is a stickler for hygiene, and therefore would always give the children baths, followed by a leave in hair conditioner treatment and comb-thru, and of course the mandatory and completely necessary tooth brushing. He's not the type who would
-give the babes a wet face cloth and say to just wash your pits
-take their finger,cover it with toothpaste,and say that's a good as a toothbrush
-and hair? What hair? The children have hair?

I also would be fully shocked to come home at an hour that is encroaching the morning, only to find the oldest 2, fast asleep, in nothing that resembles clothing, with the only light in the room coming from a screaming loud tv movie that had been set to "replay forever". That would never happen in our house.

And lastly, my lovely lady S lost her second tooth this week. The day after the tooth fairy came, the tooth was placed in a little box on top of the fridge. **What? I keep my kids teeth? Yes, I do. I'm sure it stems from some childhood issue like when I didn't receive that pony for my 7th birthday, regardless, I admit it's weird, but something won't let me just chuck them.** So when I walked into the living room and saw the little tooth box upside down with no lid on it, I asked the very obvious question to DG....Where....are the teeth?? **Not saying this ever happened in our house**, but if it had, I'm sure DG's face wouldn't have gone white as a ghost as he stuttered..."Ooooh. Oh. Oh. I was thinking that didn't quite look like a cheerio that baby L swallowed."

Yes. So it's possibly true that all is not done just as I would do things when I am away from the house, but I would like to thank my DG for the valuable time he spends with out little ones. For without him, I'm pretty sure they would not have been able to accurately share the differences between the Canon 7D and a Nikon D300 at kindergarten show & tell.

Two Evils

After 7+ years of marriage, I think it's safe to assume that the toilet seat is not going to be put down every time I wander in to the bathroom. {Or ever. Let's just be honest.} You'd think that growing up with 2 older sisters, KDG would have learned the rules of the potty rim. And, looking back, it is actually very possible that at one point in history, he did learn them, and even abided by them. But lessons learned in that time period did not stand a chance against the 19 years of bachelorhood that was to follow. Living in a house of 6 men, er..boys...created a new set of rules, which unfortunately did not include putting a toilet seat down. Fair enough. I can deal. I will not relent, but I can deal.

But today my beef is not with KDG and his alive&well bachelor habits.

Ladies. We know better when it comes to bathroom behavior. I thought. We are the ones who {socially speaking anyways} are cleaning/disinfecting/toothbrush scrubbing this nasty room. So one would assume we would know better.

The very last straw I had in my tolerance quiver was violently ripped out today when, in a rush, accompanied by three overtired and {never}demanding children, sat my white as snow arse down on a public potty {gasp} before I needed clean up in isle 5.

Only to find my aforementioned lovely bottom soaked in someone else's pee. Ok. I get it ladies. I do. You don't want your precious backside to come within 3 inches of that filthy/grubby/polluted public washroom seat. Cause who knows what living organism is just waiting eagerly to glom on to you and leave you with oozing sores all over your entire body for the remainder of your days.

But for the love of all that's holy, is it too much to ask, to wipe/dab/mop your own urine off before exit of the stall? Seriously? Promise I will do it for you. PUH-LEASE do it for me. Cause I swear to you, if I have one more wet bum moment, I may just get gender reassignment and begin leaving the seat up. Seems the lesser of the two evils to me.

Never Again

I would really like to say never again, but, being part of a fickle people short of memory and fat in self centeredness....

...let's just say...for today....never again.

Never again will I complain about having taco salad for 3 nights in a row, when this man is eating his first meal of the week...on Thursday.



Never again will I tell myself, "you can brush their teeth tomorrow" as I forgo the evening routine due to tiredness, when this sweet babe is learning brushing hygiene for the first time at age 3. She has already lost 4 teeth, due to not having a toothbrush and toothpaste.



I will never again feel embarrassed for driving a minivan, when this man's chariot has no brakes, no roof to keep the rain off of him and certainly no trunk room to carry all of the "necessary" things I need daily.



Never again will I complain about my 6 year old extremely warm Columbia winter jacket being out of style, when someone in my city will be donning a jean jacket throughout the entire winter, considering it their salvation.



Never again will I feel sorry for myself for not being able to afford to get my roots touched up "this month", when this man was so grateful to get the mats cut out of his hair that had accumulated over the past 2 years. (It brought tears to my eyes watching the joy of his moment.)



Never again will I complain about my closet not being big enough, when this man's entire life fits in a duffel bag and a garbage sac.




This past Wednesday and Thursday, I was here:



I was asked to be the photographer for this city event and what started as a mere job, transformed my thinking like I could not have imagined. Sometimes it takes getting on a plane and flying to a Guatemalan dump to feel the radical shift of culture and let it shock your system and your world thinking into the proper place where it should be. Thankful. And sometimes it just takes stepping out in your very own city, to remember that there are many many people who would LOVE to have ...your problems.

Note to Self:

You may know the type.

The days that you suspect are part of your life if ONLY for teaching you patience.

I've had a lot of those all sandwiched on top of each other for weeks now. But just recently, may I possibly *whisper* this without the cosmos hearing me and crashing in on the party...I think it's getting better. Like a LOT better. The routines that we began in September are now getting done like we're on auto-pilot. And Momma is feeling at home again in this new chapter of life. *Big sigh*

So. I just wanted to write down a few things, if not for you, than at least for me to look back on, if for some unbeknownst reason to me, the crazy days pop up again, which I am SURE they won't, then I can try to see the silver lining if I squint hard enough.

1. When you have spent an entire week wearing sweats, the *ahem*same sweats, at least your booty still fits in them after consuming untold amounts of Oreo Cakesters while sobbing over Grey's Anatomy.
2. If You're so desperate for adult conversation that you spill your guts to the telemarketer that calls...and HE hangs up on YOU...well, at least you still have a phone, and you can always call Skyla, she'll put you on speakerphone and "uh huh" mindlessly for hours.
3. If popsicles have become a staple food group, remember the sound of silence that follows is priceless. And chocolate milk ones count for one dairy serving, it's the law.
4. When your feet are sticking to the kitchen floor, crank up that old Snoop Dog song and work the sticky sound in with your killer dance moves.
5. If you are singing along to the Elmo song that's in your car's CD player long after you have dropped the kids off, well, there's no silver lining on that one. Please get help. Immediately.
6. If your purse contains packages of Pepperage farm goldfish, a juice box, assorted wrappers and and two soothers, at least you can zip that thing shut and everyone will just think it's a lovely bag... oh, except for the fact that your 3 year old has written her huge name backwards in permanent marker on the side that you are unaware of... yeah... except that.
7. If Tylenol PM has become part of your daily vitamin intake, remember this is just the "light" stuff. People take much more heavier things to sleep. You are practically an organic druggie next to them. *Pat pat* way to go.
8. If you need a dress for an occasion and realize the night before that you don't have one and if you do, you don't have shoes other than Keds with grass stains on them, mmmm, don't forget how HOT you look in those sweats. Grab the Cakesters, throw out the scale, pop on a Grey's DVD, and forget the party. We all know chocolate and McDreamy are the only friends who are consistently faithful anyways.
9. And finally, when the baby eats 3/4 of the dog food, remind yourself, it's vitamin and mineral enriched, it's probably great for him too.

Now that I feel better about my crazy transition into a full time "school mom", I hope to be around this blogisphere a bit more. The air is....a little more sweet. Missed you my chocolates.

The shark did it.

Um...my computer fell in the bathtub?

Er...my best friend had septuplets and I had to go wet nurse 4 of them?

Mmm...both of my arms were gnawed off by a shark while swimming at the kiddie pool?

Hm. There must be SOME reason why my blog has been utterly rejected, ignored and snubbed by me?

Couldn't be that baby L started walking and I have not sat down since...

Or that Queen S began Kindergarten, and getting 3 kids out the door by 8:30 is a routine I am still getting used to...

Or that I have gone to bed 3 minutes after the kids are asleep for the whole month of september??

I want you to know that you are loved, so I have decided to give you a bullet point teaser list of the kind of glory you have sadly missed out on in the last month.

• After a morning music class with B and L, I noticed a stank coming from L's pants. Upon inspection, I realized it was only one lone poo ball, no bigger than a grape, reeking havoc upon my nostrils. What would ANY cheap *ahem*...thrifty, penny-pinching momma do? Of course.. pluck the poo ball from the top of the crack, gingerly toss it over her shoulder in the half filled parking lot, pull the sunglasses from top of head over eyes, chuck the kids in the van and STEP on it before the music teacher comes to get the binder she forgot in her car, and subsequently ending up cursing under her breath as she wipes off the 'dog poo' she traipsed upon.

• After her first full day of french kindergarten, imagine the pride I felt when I asked her what she had learned that day and she answered point blank, "I learned that the Stacey girl just should not wear red. It makes her hair look too bright." Wow. Good. Glad we are feeling proactive about Stacey's wardrobe misjudgment. C'est tres bien.

• There are few things I like more than a delish breakfast of waffles, eggs, hash browns and bacon. While in the kitchen one school day, preparing such a morning delight, Princess B meandered in, asking if she could help. I had put all of the waffle ingredients in the bowl, except the water, and it was perfect timing for her to pour it in, then whisk it up. I informed her of the plan, showed her the measuring cup which held the water, then went to the other side of the kitchen to stir up the hash browns. After a few minutes, I glanced back to notice Miss B stirring up a storm, yet the measuring cup of water strangely untouched. When I encouraged her again to pour the water in, she looked at me with those big bambi eyes, and replied, "But I did Mommy, I poured ALL the water in," as she held up a very empty large bottle of peppermint extract.

A few golden tidbits for the memory vault. Oh how these busy days with 3 young children make me laugh. I do believe I may just be living in the best days of my life.