Remember the Alamo!!!!!!

I'm just warning you. This is going to be a sappy one. The kind where I'll write it, post it, then realize that maybe not all of my inside thoughts belong outside. And the internet is as outside as you can get. At any rate, here I go. And really, I pick on Chad enough that he deserves ONE sappy post on my blog.

When we were in San Antonio together without our kids, we both realized that we still LIKE each other. Aside from loving each other, we really get along. Like chocolate and peanut butter. Ok, maybe more like ants and picnics; we aren't perfect, but we still go together (I'm the picnic in that scenario, just in case you wondered).

We made a pact as we walked hand-in-hand down the Riverwalk that we were going to get through the child-rearing years come hell or high water. We both know that if we can just hold out another decade or so, we'll come out on the other end still liking each other.

And that's the catch. Getting through that decade or so with our kids. Parenting differences are effective relationship land mines. Agendas, conflicting communication styles, goals, expectations - all of these things are bad enough on their own, but when you throw in children, they become nuclear. There are times when I can't fathom why we got married. There are times when I feel like he's an alien because we can't agree on the best way to handle a parental conflict. There are times when I feel defeated and hopeless.

In the future, these are the times when I'm going to Remember the Alamo. It was there that Chad reminded me who he is as a husband. We went into the gift store to look for trinkets to take home to the boys (by the way, lollipops with scorpions in them are big hits in my house) and on the way out, I saw this awesome necklace. Just a silver chain with a pendant-sized silver Texas Rangers' badge. I admired and we walked out. Once we were in the courtyard, Chad asked, "Did you want that necklace?" And I replied with the usual, "Yes, but I don't need it." He told me I should go back and get it. He held out cash and asked me for a kiss. I kissed him and he said, "Even." And that's my husband. Who regards my affection so highly that a simple kiss is considered currency in an impromptu gift exchange.

I was embarrassed as I purchased the necklace fighting tears the entire time, thinking of Chad outside who thought he'd gotten a fair trade that day. He is amazing and I will fight for him, even if the battle is within me during those times when the stress of life gets us down. I will remember who he is. I will remember why I love him. I will Remember the Alamo!

Just For Fun Friday

Each Friday, I'm going to post a picture I took that week that makes me smile - or laugh - or say 'Hmmmmm.' These won't be the most amazing pictures, just a warning!



It's been so hard to wait to post this picture. Chad and I bought this turtle for Cade that projects stars in amber, green, and blue on the wall. I've wanted to take this particular shot since then. He finally fell asleep deep enough for me to go in with a tripod (and Chad's assistance placing the turtle just right). This picture just makes me smile.

The most glorious day ever

**DISCLAIMER** I love my kids. I really do. I have many posts on this very blog that proclaim my love for said kids. I love them more than coffee. More than Star Wars. I even love them more than my camera (horror!). So, to sum up...Who loves her kids? That's right; I do. **DISCLAIMER**

Today I had the most glorious day ever. I don't even know how to describe it or what part of it made it so spectacular. But, to start, it was JUST ME. Alone. Singular.

Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself in my excitement to share with you.

Chad and I are in San Antonio. He's at a technical conference and I came with him to have a mini vacation. He went to class today and I grabbed Baxter and drove out to the San Antonio Missions National Park.

Ok, now we are caught up. Back to being alone. Several times today, I had the 'Oh no - where are the kids' panic moment followed by the blissful 'Dori, you are completely by yourself right now' moment. It's like being dipped into a pool of ice and then wrapped in a blanket fresh out of the dryer. There were times when I sat on benches and closed my eyes just to take in the awareness of 'being.'

I know that being a mom is rewarding and that my kids add endless entertainment to my life, but there's a sacrifice in parenting. You give up a certain amount of yourself to do it. Maybe not give it up, but definitely set it aside (where it becomes dusty and outdated). Today, I was free to remember something - I am me outside of my roles. In other words, I'm Dori. Not mom, wife, daughter, friend, crazy blogger, but Dori. Being alone with yourself on a beautiful October day surrounded by 300 year old Spanish missions is restorative. I feel filled back up with a sense that I'm not lost, I'm just traveling several roads at once.

As I touched those stones that had been there so much longer than me, that had been there before the roads, the 7-11 across the street, the power lines above them, the business of tourists, I had one of those zoomed-in moments. I was aware that, by touching it, I was a part of that building's 300 year old history, and yet I was separate from it (as it was from me). It's that way with my life. I'm part of a history I'm making in these roles I play, but I am separate from them, too. I'm me.

It was nice to spend a day apart from my roles. A day with just me. A most glorious day indeed.

It's My Dad's Fault

I play an online game called Rings of Orbis. In the forums, a person started a thread titled, "Why are you here?" Here's where we take another fun look into the thought process of a woman with serious adult ADD.

It's my Dad's fault that I play that online game. Stay with me.

You see, my Dad watches Westerns. Lots and lots of Westerns. And I was indoctrinated into the world of westerns at a very young age. I was quoting John Wayne at 3 and I'm pretty sure my dad used the War Wagon theme song as a lullaby. We spent many a weekend hanging out watching Jack Pallance 'get his' and Chuck Connors trying to redeem his name. Love of Westerns - check.

When I was in 2nd grade (8 years old, so you don't have to do the math), the trailer for The Shining came on TV and I was petrified. You can view the trailer here. My Dad took time to tell me how it was made of Cherry Koolaid (not at all true - Stanley Kubrick shot it numerous times because the texture and color 'didn't look like blood'). He did this for every scary movie question I had until I developed a strong love of horror films. Love of Horror - check.

That same year, The Empire Strikes Back came to our theater. Dad took me to see it. The theater had trouble with the film and the entire audience was offered refunds as we dejectedly left before the movie was finished. My disappointment was more than palpable, I'm sure. So my Dad, who had just bought himself a suh-weeeet red Nissan 280ZX, took me home Han Solo style. We swerved and shifted crazily pretending to outrun Imperial enemies. Love of Sci-Fi - check. Twice.

So, even though my Dad doesn't love scary movies or sci-fi, his coolness solidified my love of those genres. That's why, when a friend loaned me the already canceled Firefly Season 1 DVD set, I was a goner. A space western. With a scary twist. Once it was over, I was left in the same pool of people who fell in love with prematurely canceled Fox series. Wanting more. Jonesing for more. And like an addict who can't get the real stuff, I went to the next best thing - new series with the actors from Firefly. Chuck and Castle are both currently in my DVR favorites. I even 'follow' Nathan Fillion on Twitter. Leading to the answer, why do I play Rings of Orbis? Why, because Nathan Fillion endorsed it. And he was Captain Mal. Who reminded me of Han Solo. Who reminds me of my Dad. The coolest space cowboy of them all.

Just For Fun Friday

Each Friday, I'm going to post a picture I took that week that makes me smile - or laugh - or say 'Hmmmmm.' These won't be the most amazing pictures, just a warning!

The world around me is getting ready for Fall. Grocery stores are now filled with men buying chips and queso for football games. Some of my friends are already shopping for and even wrapping Christmas gifts. My church is preparing to transform itself into the Pumpkin Patch Church once more. And yet, there are rebels. There are the women still wearing white patent leather shoes. Spaghetti straps abound. And my oldest sons refuse to put away their shorts until January. But this flower stands out among the rebels. The other plants in the bed are going to sleep, putting away their blooms, and preparing to turn their nice oranges and reds, while this harlot brazenly screams, "What are YOU looking at?"

Commando

I'm reevaluating my favorite potty training method. With all three older boys, I decided that just letting them run around bare-bottomed would be the best means to self-awareness. In all actuality, it worked out pretty well. My floor might disagree, but I had quick results with minor, messy set backs.

You might be thinking that this is going to be a Cade post. And that it will revolve around yet another horrific mess story that makes you glad your kids are grown. Or that you have no kids. Or that your kids aren't my kids. But this isn't a Cade posting.

You see, I think my potty training method messed Stone up. Because right now as I'm typing this, he's playing his Daddy's X-box with no pants on. And I mean NO pants. He's got a shirt (one that I'll need to bribe off of him later in order to wash) and his bright green Crocs on and that's it. Commando. Completely.

This isn't his preferred state. He prefers to have shorts on with no underwear. But for whatever reason, this morning he deemed his shorts from yesterday unworthy. And he refuses to wear long pants, which are all he has in his dresser (he's already lectured me on this point).

And here's another dilemma. He doesn't want to go to church anymore. Totally unrelated rant? No. He doesn't want to go because I make him wear underwear. Not because it isn't fun. Not because he doesn't love his teachers. Not because he doesn't want to see his friends. But because Church = Mandatory Underwear.

Scarily, he's become quite a liar to the question, "Did you put your underwear on?" At first he answered truthfully. Then, once he figured out that the truth only led to underwear, he answered by telling me that he had put them on. I (being a very clever mom) asked him what color they were and he grinned. Busted. The next time he answered yes, and when queried about the color popped off, "They're blue" with such panache that I believed him and we went to church. Underwearless. I discovered this while he was sitting cross-legged. So now, no matter how fervently he answers that he applied his undergarments, I double check them before leaving the house.

Who knew a potty training technique could create a pantsless, fibbing, church-avoiding 4-year-old. You see now why I'm reevaluating my method for the Cadester??

Just For Fun Friday

Each Friday, I'm going to post a picture I took that week that makes me smile - or laugh - or say 'Hmmmmm.' These won't be the most amazing pictures, just a warning!

We found this fun project online. The bottom layer is water with blue food coloring. The yellow stuff is vegetable oil. It's pretty difficult to describe molecular attributes and density to a 4-year-old, but he can understand that oil and water don't mix.

Happy Birthday?????

12 is a difficult age. At least it is for me as a parent. I can't really get into celebrating 12. The I-know-more-than-you attitude. The hormonal tumult. The girl-craziness (oh the horror!!!!!). 12 makes me less 'Happy Birthday!' and more 'Happy Birthday?' It's said with that facial expression that is part trepidation, part fear, part humor.

However, I can celebrate this. He's my kid. And he knows it. And he loves it. We get each other and there are fewer and fewer melt downs between us. We have a language together - a non-verbal, conversational secret decoder ring. And he's funny. A bit on the sarcastic side, but funny.

So, here's Happy Birthday to my arrogant but self-deprecating; my cocky but self-conscious; my awesome but explosive man-child. The kid who loved his Lego birthday cake even though the Lego guys were drooping off the back of it. Who told me he wasn't disappointed in waiting a few more days on his present (procrastination, thou art the bane of my existence). Who acted excited about the book I bought him. Man, I love this kid.

Just For Fun Friday

Each Friday, I'm going to post a picture I took that week that makes me smile - or laugh - or say 'Hmmmmm.' These won't be the most amazing pictures, just a warning!



All parents know the fear of suddenly realizing your house is TOO quiet. Usually, this is when you discover your children filling your bathtub with unrolled toilet paper. Or, you find the cat is wearing your most expensive makeup and you're pretty sure he didn't apply it himself. Or, you find your best fishing lures (exposed hooks and all) dangling from your toddlers overalls.**

In this case, Chad went to check on the eerie silence and came back to get me and Baxter (I named my new camera).

The picture above is evidence that my life sometimes throws me a cosmic bone. You can't tell because I used a flash, but they were watching a movie in the complete darkness of their room. Stone had tucked Cade into that blanket, turned the movie on, turned out the light, and hopped into the bed. The coup de grâce to my already unstable heart was Cade rubbing Stone's hair. Can you see it? Kill shot. As Pearce would say, "Mom got some MAJOR mascara in her eyes on that one."


**Please don't call the authorities on me. I exaggerate for comedic effect. I promise.

How do you know you are succeeding as a parent?

It's Pink's birthday. Kids were watching the news this morning before school and the local Fox station was playing the "how old is this celebrity" game. The picture of Pink came up and Cole blurts, "Why does Pink look like Elvis?"

Score!

This Kid...

You know, it's hard to post about just one of your kids. You run the risk of playing favorites or being overly sarcastic about one. That doesn't apply to children under two. Children under two are under a different rule structure.

It's probably been awhile since I posted about Cole. Just Cole. And I muse to myself why that is. So, here's my external though process.

Cole is mysterious to me. I can't really explain this. Hence the word mysterious.

Cole is totally random. I posted on this a LONG time ago and not much has changed in the way of randomness. The subjects have shifted. There are more random questions and discussions about Camaros and Harry Potter now. Cole lives in a 'what if' universe. Like "Mom, do you think a dragon could go faster than a Camaro?" and "Mom, what if you had an owl?" How do you answer these questions? Mostly like this: "Cole, dragons are fast, but notoriously bad in the corners, so that would be a great race to watch." and "Well, if I had an owl, I'd send it to keep an eye on you at school."

Cole is always evolving. Two years ago, Cole was like watching Snoopy caught in a never-ending happy dance loop. Now, at almost 10, there's much more introspection. More reading, thinking, quiet reflection. Not that he isn't still completely hyper - it's his home base. But he ventures into the quiet, brooding realm more often. Also, when Cole was 5, we were begging him to try out his bicycle (with training wheels and all), but he wasn't interested. Now, he's known as the more fearless kid in the neighborhood. It's an evolution that confounds and amazes me.

Cole is built over a highly active fault. No, not a flaw - a fault. Think San Andreas. He's calm on the surface, but underneath there's dangerously tumultuous activity. Getting Cole to talk about the way he feels is sometimes hard. He doesn't want to hurt feelings or admit that a situation is negative in any way. He prefers to wear his rose-colored glasses (even though the prescription in them is WAY off at times). But, push his buttons too far (ask Pearce how) and you have a 9.0 on the Richter scale. Devastating.

Cole is beautiful. There are times when I look at Cole and his warmth overcomes me. He has a beauty that I can't explain. It's from the inside. It's all that mystery and optimism and turbulence causing something like a radioactive glow that emanates from his eyes. You might have to be his mom to see it. But it's there.

This kid...he's beyond wonderful. Beyond my understanding. Beyond lovable. Beyond explanation.

The real reason I love Facebook

I'm going to try (key word) to keep this post short, but just like a really good plot, sometimes you need an unabridged version to satisfy.

I have a crazy family. I know, you're thinking who doesn't? But the special brand of crazy in my family is spectacular. I love it. I always have. As a little girl, I always felt like a movie viewer to my own life at family gatherings. My uncles were the hilarious leading male roles and my aunts were the beguiling, if not long-suffering and ever eye-rolling leading ladies. To put it in terms of 80's pop culture; my uncles were the Jack Trippers and my aunts the Janets of my life.

I have the fondest memories of watching their sibling rivalry manifest itself into things like an indoor hand-stand contest, or a singing-Christmas-carols-over-the-other contest. And the one-upsmanship in joke telling was almost mind bending at times for me.

But it wasn't always fun and games. I learned valuable life lessons from my uncles. I learned that you don't EVER outgrow parental scoldings. And that a hand-stand contest in your 40's leads to days of soreness. I learned that ANY word can be used as the basis of a joke (even if you have to stretch it beyond its recognizable origins).

I so wanted to interact with these beloved characters, but much like your favorite TV show, they were untouchable. Separated by the distance of a generation and my ignorance in spinning tall tales at such a young age (oh, and that one incident where I wrote a curse word on paper and blamed it on my most innocent cousin). Separated by my obnoxious pre-teen years and then my absolute disrespect for all adults in my teen years. Finally, separated by my inevitable, but exploding adult life and family.

Then, Facebook happened. My uncles slowly joined one by one. And now I have access to their hilarity on an ongoing basis; not just at Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. My uncles might be the real reason I love Facebook so much.


I have a few uncles who might be embarrassed by this post. And a few who will take complete credit for it. But they are all part of the ensemble cast that made up my favorite sitcom. My childhood.

The saddest game of Hide-And-Seek. Ever.

Yesterday, Stone suggested that we play Hide-And-Seek. (Cute aside: I counted first and he hid by crouching in the hallway with his arms over his head.)

When it was his turn to count, he decided that since he was little he only needed to count to three. So, I made a mad dash for his room and threw myself behind a large kitchen/grill toy. As I was dropping to the floor behind it, my leg caught on this thing sticking out of the toy. I saw white stars in my eyes. My vision blurred a little from the pain. But I pressed on and grimaced silently behind the toy in order to continue the game. If you can take a moment to visualize me writhing in pain like a mime. Or better yet, over-dramatic, silent movie style...yes, that's it.

I hear Stone go past his bedroom door calling, "Where are you? I'm going to fiiiiind you!!!" The pain becomes a little more tolerable and I notice that he's gone far enough away that I can barely hear his voice. So, I make a teasing hoot to get him to come back my way. Now I can't hear him at all. I make another teasing hoot. Nothing. I call out, "Stone?" And he walks past his doorway saying, "Mom, I'm not playing Hide-And-Go-Seek anymore. Cade and I are going to play with cars."

Here I am, crouched behind his kitchen toy, leg throbbing - and he decides he's not playing anymore. After 27 seconds of looking for me. Next time, we are going to talk ahead of time about finding your playmate before deciding on a new activity.

My mommy merit badge for today (8 inch ruler):

Family Walk

We started a new family thing that I'm really enjoying. After dinner is over and everything is cleaned up, we go for a walk/ride around the block. It's the most amazing change in our life. It's quite possible that no one in my family gets as much out of it as I do, but it's fun enough that we even hooked Chad. You probably already know this, but walking around the block is a great science and social studies activity for almost everyone. We pick up old, brown magnolia leaves and check them out. Then, we crunch them up in our hands. Cade loves it. We stop to observe ants carrying huge chunks of food down the seams in the concrete sidewalk. We talk about the danger of 'The Street' and the safety of 'The Sidewalk.' Amazingly, we've discovered that we have neighbors. Prior to this activity, we assumed that the houses in our neighborhood were owned by phantoms. It turns out that we were the phantoms. Neighbors exclaim to us, "Oh! I know that house, we always wondered who lived there!"

Mostly, though, I love watching my family walk together - no arguing, no worries (save those related to The Street), no electronics, no canned lighting. Just the sun, the breeze, the neighbors, and God all around us.

**contented sigh**

Last night, I ventured out with one piece of electronics and shot a few pictures.

Just for fun Friday

Each Friday, I'm going to post a picture I took that week that makes me smile - or laugh - or say 'Hmmmmm.' These won't be the most amazing pictures, just a warning!

Just for fun Friday

Each Friday, I'm going to post a picture I took that week that makes me smile - or laugh - or say 'Hmmmmm.' These won't be the most amazing pictures, just a warning!

Here's a funny picture that tells so much more than you would see at first glance.



First, you can't tell by the picture, but I had a momentary lapse of judgment at the grocery store and bought a package of those Huggies Jeans diapers. You might have seen the commercial on TV - here it is. He's got one of the diapers on and I unleashed him outside to get pictures of it.

Second, he's not playing with his privates here. I forget that they are literal at this age. Had I yelled at Stone to 'show me his diaper,' he would have shaken his booty at me or waddled like a duck. This is what I got from Cade with that command. It's reminiscent of what I get when I ask him to show me his belly or nose or knees. The look of concentration and the two handed Vanna White presentation of said object.

Third, we went to the doctor this week for our two-year check up and these were his numbers:
your child at the 36th percentile for weight.

your child at the 13th percentile for height.

your child is at greater than the 97th percentile for head circumference.

That's right; GREATER than the 97th percentile for head circumference with a less than average height and weight. Meaning my child is a human representation of a helium balloon. Now look at the picture again. You have my permission to laugh. He'll grow into that head.

Just for fun Friday

Here's a new fun thing I'm going to try. Each Friday, I'm going to post a picture I took that week that makes me smile - or laugh - or say 'Hmmmmm.' These won't be the most amazing pictures, just a warning! Here's the first one.



What makes me laugh at this picture is how it encapsulate so many things. There's the Starbucks cup in the background. You wouldn't know it to look at it, but it represents friendship. My friend brought me that delicious, frosty beverage for our playdate. It's one of those details that doesn't mean anything to the viewer of the picture, but always means something to the taker. You know?

Then there's my position in the picture. Do you ever look at a picture and really give thought to where the photographer is? Most of the time I don't. This picture makes me laugh at myself. I climbed all the way up onto a jungle gym not to play with my kids, but to snap pictures of them. How wrong is that?

Which leads me to my 'Hmmmmmmmm' moment. Stone doesn't even know I'm there. He's not posing, smiling, or even aware of mom with the camera. Begs the question of whether I need to put down the camera. Maybe mom needs to stop viewing her children through a lens and get involved. So that the view from my eyes (read: NOT my camera) is one where my kids are smiling and laughing at me.

Really, do we ever LOOK at a picture that hard? Maybe I should call this Freudian Friday...

A Good Day

Today was a good day. Today was the kind of day where I had solid moments of clarity. Sometimes, the noise of my life causes a static between me and how good things are. Sometimes there's a curtain of chaos covering the masterpiece of my life. But today I was lucky enough to see my children without the static.

Moment One:
We were walking to a pool and I was carrying Cade (who had no shoes). It was like, 487 degrees outside and we were already tired just from being awake in August in Texas. Halfway to the pool, I realized I'd left the swim diapers in the truck. So, I handed Cade to Pearce and ran back. Once I had the swim diaper, I turned around to see Cole and Stone walking together and talking about something. And Pearce was carrying Cade, who was completely content to be in his biggest brother's arms. If I had an iota of artistic ability, I'd try to capture it on canvas! Pearce looking down at Cade. Cade with his head on Pearce's shoulder. Cole and Stone so far apart in age yet playfully running together in anticipation of pool time. It almost stopped me in my tracks. Of course, then Pearce put Cade down WAY too close to the pool and the moment was lost to my all-out sprint to the pool while yelling, "Pearce! Grab Cade!"

Moment Two:
Tonight, we ate dinner at a local Mexican food restaurant. Our favorite local band was playing on the patio. Pearce was sitting with friends (MY friends) and Cole was listening to the band off on his own. Stone was sitting in Chad's lap and I was holding Cade in a rare moment of cuddliness. Again, I was hit with this overwhelming feeling of relief. Of peace. These are my boys. And they are wonderful. And different. And they are mine - not speaking possessively, but with reverence to God, who decided that these particular four should go with me.

Anyway, I know this is a sappy departure from my norm, but I felt like sharing that things aren't always poop on the ceiling fan and stepping on sharp toys in the middle of the night. Sometimes, I'm rewarded with a moment, and in this case two, that reminds me of how lucky I am.

Family Creed

Chad and I went on a marriage retreat over a year ago (it was nice - here's the info). One of the things that stuck with me was the value of creating a Family Creed. The couple presenting that session had an example of their family's creed. They tied it to the bible and I remember thinking how much I wanted one. A set of principles or beliefs that we can go back to in times of 'confusion' (meaning anytime ownership of a toy is called into question or an insult launches a thousand ships).

Interestingly, wanting a family creed is quite a different thing than having one. Or even starting one. I thought about it when we got home, and after realizing that I didn't have a clue where to begin, I let it fall to the back of my mind which is the equivalent of solitary confinement for ideas - never to see the light of day.

Here's the great part - sometimes God really does just drop a gift into your lap. Nicely packaged with a bow. I was listening to a message by Steve Langford on Ephesians 4:21 - 5:2 and there it was embedded in the scripture. My family's creed. It's a beautiful text and it is perfect in its completeness. All I had to do was translate it into kid-friendly language. Thank you, God.

Goodbye to the Baby Daze

Today, Cade turns two. And a thought occurred to me; the baby days are over.

Officially.

I've been kind of waiting around to see what kind of mom I'd be at the big events. I have friends whose children are going away to college. Some are stoic, some are tearful. I've been kind of worried that I'm going to fall into the former knowing that the latter is where the 'good moms' fall. But, I've found that with this particular milestone, I've stayed true to what my parents always said of me by defying category. Because I'm not stoic or tearful. I'm flippin' ELATED! Tomorrow marks a turning point toward things like:
1. My own meals. I mean, like every bite belonging solely to me.
2. My very own private time to use the bathroom.
3. My own showers - no more shaving my legs in precarious positions because I'm worried the baby will get whiskers in his eyes, or worse, look up and be completely scarred for life.
4. My own bed. Ok, this one's still way in the future since my 4-year-old is the worst offender.
5. My very own husband. Because neither Chad nor I belong to one another right now, but to the dictatorial little squatters.
6. Freedom from other people's poop (and additionally about $100 a month in the pocket when we say goodbye to diapers).


Sounds heartless, but you know me. I mask the sentimental in sarcasm. So, in order to redeem myself in your eyes, I admit that I'll miss things like:
1. Fat rolls on wrists, knees, and ankles that are meant to be kissed.
2. Feet that are shiny and new. Seriously, babies have beautiful, shiny feet.
3. An addendum to #3, but deserving it's own number - baby toes. Yummy.
4. Hair that smells like sunshine (big boys smell like tennis ball cans).
5. Contagious giggles - this doesn't go away at 2, but it's getting there.
6. Eyes filled with wonder and awe at God's creation, without even knowing the word God.
7. Cuddles that come from boo-boos.


Oh, there are more things that I'll look forward to and things that I'll miss. But I'm feeling it all at once tonight and my mind is too weary (mostly from attempting to make a crocodile cake) to get them all down.

I know it was harsh when I called my kids squatters, but they kind of are. They find a nice place in your heart and then claim it by sheer virtue of being there. See? Just because I don't use fluffy words doesn't mean I don't love my kids! So, Happy Birthday, Cade. The last of my babies. And goodbye to your baby days, but hello to discovering who you are as a boy.