around our table

 

Mom decided to take a week off.  Pausing treatment so she can gain some strength.  Being home is already making her feel better.  Thank you so much for your prayers!

And in the midst of the hard stuff, there’s my comedian…

 

Honey, do you want to try some of this?

(Homemade ranch chicken pot pie if you must know.  No comments from Mr. Daddy please… it’s not like I could HEAR the oven beeper.  sigh)

 

No thanks (munching on a piece of pizza),

it looks

(mumble mumble mumble mumble)

 

yucky

 

 

What?!?

 

I love you Mommy!

 

Did you just say Mommy’s dinner looked yucky?

 

No Mommy.  I said it looked like throw up.

 

(choke)

 

You said Mommy’s dinner looks like throw up?

 

Ummmmmmmm.  Yeah.

 

Gee thanks.

.

.

.

.

 

You’re not eating throw up, are you Mommy?

 

(choke)

 

No, I’m not eating throw up.

 

 

Good… because that would be gross.

 

(choke)

 

That would be really GROSS GROSS

 

(apparently, two grosses are grosser than one)

 

Yes, it would be honey.

 

 

Mommy, do you know what?

What honey?

(holding my breath)

 

 

 

Bad guys eat throw up.

 

Amen.

Every breath

 

Back.

 

At the hospital.

 

 

 

Marveling at the unfairness of it all.

 

Fluorescent lights and a constant stream of strangers.

 

Looking for a cure.  An answer.  Comfort.

 

Waiting for a buoy of good news in a sea of what seems impossible.

 

 

Watching a 5-year old on the cusp of kindergarten carefully snuggle into his grandmother’s familiar arms.

 

I feel robbed.

He feels robbed.

 

When Grandma feels better, she will go for walks with me again, right Momma?

Yes Butter, she sure will.

 

 

I don’t know how you do it.

 

I don’t know how you tell your Mom,

 

It’s okay.  It’s up to you.  We’ll support whatever you want to do.

 

And watch her look away.

Staring at the clock on the wall in room #316.

 

 

I don’t know how you give your battered heart permission to hope and grieve all in the same moment.

 

 

Except that you do it for her.

 

 

You do it for the relief across her beloved face.

You do it for the release for her battle-worn mind.

You do it for her peace.

 

And you realize again that you fiercely love the man who has tenderly said this to his irreplaceable mother.

 

And you realize that in a bustling hospital filled with modern day wonders… that it is completely out of your hands.  And that a miracle trumps everything.

 

Love her with every breath.

 

And remember Butter, love wins.  Love wins.

 

Shopping with Children: Episode 472

 

When I would tell people that my career goal was to be a Mom, experienced mothers would knowingly tsk and regale me with stories of sleep deprivation, epic diapers, Terrible Twos…

And yet, not a single mother educated me on the scariest prospect of all:

shopping with a tiny human who thinks it is their personal playground.

 

I am amazed that Krogers lets us continue to shop there – especially after The Percy Incident, and most recently, The Mr. Daddy Kicked a Ball In Rachel’s Face Incident.

 

We’ve gotten to be so well known, that it triggered a hard-earned “Shopping With Kids” series.  I think you can see my sanity slipping away if you scroll through it…especially around the Headless Mannequin mark.

 

Thank you Krogers, for allowing us to frequent your fine establishment.

I wish to apologize for the further incidents that occurred this evening.

I blame the kid.

 

See, it all started when a Corelle dish broke next to our car.

(For those of you who swear Corelle doesn’t break… it does.  And in a million sharp pieces.  Asphalt is funny that way).

Now, while this technically wasn’t the kid’s fault, you can imagine the hysterics that ensued when Mr. Everything Needs A Bandaid saw blood dripping from Momma’s finger that had been sliced open by the “indestructible” Corelle.

 

Hysterics aside, I made the foolhardy decision to brave the shopping scene once more to see if I could squeeze a shelving unit into the ride home.

Well, dem boxes are mighty big.  As in “TEAM LIFT” is written all over them.

 

And as I stood there muttering to myself (yes, deaf people mutter to themselves too, what of it?), apparently Itty Bit heard me say, “We’re gonna need some help with these”.

I apologize for the mayhem that ensued when my child suddenly started screaming,

HELP!  HELP!  WE NEED HELP!  HELLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPP!

And I apologize for laughing hysterically.

 

~

 

And when someone finally came to our rescue… the 6’4” linebacker agreed that it would be a TEAM LIFT venture that required more than myself and a freakishly strong 5-year old.

At least he waited until the salesguy was walking back to the warehouse.

Yes he did.

My sweet and serious and obedient child waited until the guy was barely out of sight…

…and MOONED me.

And I apologize for laughing hysterically.

 

~

 

(Okay, so the laughing was done on MUTE.  This is totally not typical for the kid, which is why I severely sprained my ribcage trying not to laugh aloud while scooping up his bare butt and telling him that he’s only allowed to moon Yankee fans)

 

~

 

And lastly?  I apologize for the unusual noises that were coming from your furniture section.

If it makes you feel any better… the furniture fought back…

 

 

And I apologize for laughing hysterically.

~

 

50,000 Once Upon A Miracle points to whomever figures out how many times I typed “hysterically” or “hysterics” in this post… because shopping with kids brings much of each!

Unashamed

 

That’s right.

I know I have a good 20 pounds to lose.

And I am ashamed of that.

 

But I am not ashamed to be thoroughly convinced of this:

When you’re going to have a little something called ice cream…

that diet stuff just won’t do.

(Seriously, does anyone else think that the stuff tastes like frozen Moon Sand?)

 

And as an added argument… that “healthy” stuff is messier.

 

Yep.

 

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Just like the diet ice cream sandwich stuck all over Itty Bit.

 

 

Wait – it’s 9:45 PM… whose idea was this anyway?

 

GRANDMA’S!!!!!!

 

 

Lesson #1:  Objects in lens are stickier than they appear.

 

 

 

Lesson #2:  Fake sugar does funny things to 5-year olds.

Because he sure doesn’t come by this naturally.

 

(oh hush)

 

 

 

Mom, you’re grounded.

Letters of Intent - Bearer of bad news

 

 

Dear Mr. Daddy,

 

You married a city girl.

Remember?

 

Next time you tell me they shot a 450 pound bear behind our house – don’t act all surprised when I scream and nearly make you drive off the road.

 

 

That’s all.

 

Love,

The Chick Who Needs Some Super Duper Mace

 

p.s.  I mean, seriously?!?  Did you SEE Legends of the Fall?

 

 

~

Got any letters to write?

Bargain Hunters

 

Remember the first missive from Costco that caught my attention?

And my astonishment that they actually argued with me when I asked them to please not send me political items?

At least this time I had to laugh when I got an email from Costco:

Umm, whaaaaaat?

 

Curious, I opened the email to find this:

 

Now butter my butt and call me a biscuit, but isn’t the type of customer who is in the market for a million dollar ring…

Yeah, I thought so.

 

 

I’m just waiting for this one:

Only one available!  Free Store-To-Store shipping!

 

But don’t mind me… better hurry.

After all, there’s just one million dollar diamond up for grabs!

I Heart Faces–Beautiful Eyes

 

You may have seen this in his birthday tribute yesterday… but if there’s one thing my Mister qualifies for is a Beautiful Eyes theme.

Of course, if they had a Man Who Wears Socks With Sandals theme, he’d fit that too.  Just sayin… ;)

 

Did I ever tell you?

That the first time I ever saw this man… he was dressed in a blue jumpsuit, welding mask in hand, soot covering his face?

And when I saw those blue/green/grey peepers looking at me with a slight grin…

…well, all the words fell out of my head.

 

Fifteen years later:

 

The clouds and the harbor reflected in his eyes – and something more.  I didn’t change a single lick of color in this picture.  I’m not smart enough to mess with saturation or levels.  There’s just no way to create that expression that I’m lucky enough to see every morning.

And it still makes the words fall out of my head.

 

 

Got any beautiful eyes in your life?  Join in at I Heart Faces

Lucky Me

 

You know how life never ends up the way you plan it?

 

I had no idea that when I met this dude…

(for all us City girls, we’re just pretending it was catch-and-release, m-kay?)

 

…that he’d be putting a ring on my finger 10 years later.

 

And chasing around this little rugrat that looks like Momma, but is 100% a mini him.

 

You can’t buy the kind of Dad who will play with his kids.

 

 

 

Or one who is unafraid to show affection, so that his son always knows where he is safe.

 

One who has a work ethic that leaves him spent after long days… often falling asleep leaving a comment on one of your blogs :)

 

 

(Yes, even on a rooftop, even in profile, even with a tool belt - he has a cute butt)

 

You can’t train for his particular brand of romance… because it is simply spontaneous and fun… the best kind.

 

 

You can’t put a value on the bravery to be part of a True Story Tuesday…

 

 

 

 

 

And the oft-bemoaned issue of in-laws?  You are truly blessed if your family loves your spouse nearly as much as you do…

(when was the last time you saw your mother and husband go head-to-head in an epic tetherball match?)

 

 

 

And whose own family can’t get enough of him…

 

So on his birthday… I’m the lucky one. 

His parents gave me someone to adore

(can’t you see the love?  Mr,. Daddy, his parents and siblings)

 

Happiest Birthday to my Mister.

 

As you wish.

 

Anybody want a peanut?

She’s my dear my darling one

 

 

Because I can’t do wordless…

 

This Rachel gets me:

 

 

If you knew my grandmother:

You’d know that the freckles and brilliant red hair are lent from a wee dose of Irish genes.

(We’ll nae talk about Irish temper, and just wonder how we have narry any Irish brogue)

 

But if you rewind a bit with me:

When I saw this picture of my secure-in-his-manhood husband… I could NOT stop this song from playing on repeat in my head…

 

Because she’s he’s my dear my darling one, my smiling and beguiling one

I love the ground she he walks upon…

My pretty Irish girl man

I Heart Faces–It’s Friendship Week!

 

Is it slightly awkward that when I was filling out a form that asked for my friends’ names, that I immediately thought of all the friends I’ve made on this blogging journey?

And while wishing I could hug you all around the neck, this is exactly how I’d picture it:

 

Except, well… I’m a wee bit bigger than little May-May there.

And I have a few more wrinkles.

And permanent teeth.

But that grin and giggle were fair warning… for leaning back and lifting her best friend clean off his feet.

And I know exactly how utterly wonderful that feels.

 

 

Joining in for Friendship Week at I Heart Faces – grab your pal and head on over!

The summer I lost my toddler

 

Remember when he used to hate getting his head wet?

 

Where’d that kid go?

 

Oh wait, he still hates getting his face wet.

You gotta love his determination:

(second from the front, in case anyone was wondering ;)

 

Then we hit the county fair… and I wondered all over again where that little kid went?

See how much he loved it his first year?

 

And sat in awe the second year?

 

And Mommy couldn’t find pictures of the third year… what the heck happened?  Did we not go?

Ahh well, I can see why he was not enthused about water:

 

But the fourth year?  Definitely finding the fun.

 

His fifth go at the fair season… flying high.

 

And doing that ridiculous thing called growing…

 

But nothing prepared me for this year…

when my tiny bespectacled boy grabbed Grandma’s hand and clambered aboard:

 

Seriously? THAT thing?!?

That tower that goes up eleventy stories and DROPS people at 291 mph?

I won’t show you the video because I get a funny feeling in my tummy each time I watch it.

 

But really?  Who let that little kid on the big kid ride?

 

This was much more my speed for the little adrenaline junkie:

 

But let’s be honest here… doesn’t Grandma look far more excited about it? hee hee

(And that neck cooler-offer thingie?  Because it hit a whopping EIGHTY degrees!)

 

~

We interrupt the “what happened to my baby?” dramatics for some Mr. Daddy comic relief.

 

 

Tell me you didn’t see THAT one coming. 

Why Ariel, you’re looking quite buff enchanting today!

~

 

Then the kiddo went and tempted fate with the llamas alpacas ROUS spitting thingies:

As Mr. Daddy always remarks, “Who says God doesn’t have a sense of humor?”

 

And after surviving those beasts, Itty Bit clamored to try these four-legged ones.

 

And giggled and giggled as he went around.  His grin is due to the fact that he said the words “horse poop” every single time he passed by.  Look how mortified his steed is…The snickering and outright laughter of everyone within earshot was more than enough encouragement.

 

They don’t outgrow that, do they?

 

But I really realized he was a big kid when they called his name for the tractor pull.

My kid blew his competition out of the water in the first heat.

Then they loaded him up with ONE HUNDRED POUNDS for his second heat, and he pedaled with all his heart.  And walked away with a ribbon.

100 pounds?!?  Something tells me the kid hasn’t been carrying his weight during haying season…

 

Somebody please tell me where my toddler is?

And if you point in the direction of a very high, super-duper fast ride… I might just cry.