We should sue Walmart

Yesterday, as we were waiting in the “Customer Service” line at Walmart, my children grew more and more impatient. This, of course, led to them finding entertainment in the obstacle course of shopping baskets, which the store uses to return items to their correct places. Grayson was doing his usual daredevil stunts on a big metal dolly. Right as I was telling him to get off so he wouldn’t get hurt, his foot catches between the metal bars, and he goes smashing, head first into the floor.



Luckily, there was no blood… just tears and a nice little goose egg.


Today, we faithful customers of Sam Walton, returned to Walmart for a second round of pain and anguish. Laycee has one of those car seat carriers that snaps into the cart. Apparently, I didn’t get it snapped in all the way, because as we were going over the first bumps into the store, her car seat flipped over and nearly spilled over onto the floor. It was one of those horrifying moments where time slows down as you watch your child in mortal danger. Luckily, the carrier teetered precariously in the seat part of the basket, and we caught it just before it, and our INFANT DAUGHTER, toppled to the floor.


And then… we were back at the safety of our minivan, preparing to get the kids in the car. Our van has the automatic door openers, and we didn’t notice that our shopping cart was in the way of it’s course. Right as Grayson was climbing into the car, the receding door bumped into the very corner of our basket, which launched it forward straight into Grayson’s forehead, which forced the opposite end of his head to smash into the doorway.


Luckily, there was just a little blood…. And tears… and a nice little goose egg.


We should sue Walmart for emotional and physical damages. Or we should just learn our lesson and never go back. Or just make our kids wear helmets, and other protective wear. Or we can just be grateful that we don’t have the hospital on speed dial… yet.

Near Death experience

    I had a near-death experience this weekend. Since we will be moving in just a few weeks, we are trying to “make memories” with my family, especially my little brother. We invited my brothers over for a movie and game night sleep over sort of thing, and Barry and I wanted to WOW them with an amazing dessert. So where did we look? Why, “Pinterest” of course. (I’m slightly obsessed with the website.) And the dessert is this:



A bottom layer of Chocolate chip cookie dough, a center layer of double stuffed oreos, a top layer of fudge brownie mix… then after it is baked and all hot and gooey, you top it with vanilla ice cream and hot fudge.


I don’t understand how I am still alive to write about it.

How I know my husband loves me!

I decided it’s about time to post some memories of my dear, sweet, wonderful, amazing, stud muffin, husband.

    One of the most painful, miserable experiences I have ever had (beside pregnancy, birth, and surgery) happened from meeting Barry’s family. After dating for a few weeks, Barry asked if I would join him in Utah to meet his family. Of course, I agreed and we had a wonderful time. (His family was not the painful miserable part!) For the drive home, I borrowed one of Barry’s dirty shirts, so I would be comfortable.


    And I was. Very Comfortable. Until the next day. I awoke with a burning feeling under my arms. As the day went on, the pain went from uncomfortable to searing hot misery. Moving my arms would make me cry, and my brother (who was renting a house with me) helped make a nest of blankets on the floor in the living room so I could wallow in front of the t.v.


    I missed a day or two of school, and finally couldn’t hold off the boyfriend any longer. Despite my protests, he came to check on me. When he walked in the door and saw me highly unkempt, and probably smelling unpleasantly, I knew he would turn around and walk away. But he walked in the door, and sympathetically asked what was wrong.


    I burst into tears and screeched, “My armpits hurt!” Crying more from embarrassment than from the horrendous pain. Instead of laughing (which I would’ve done had the roles been reversed), he just sat down beside me and asked if he could give me a priesthood blessing. I looked at him incredulously and said, “You are not going to give my armpits a blessing!” But he was persistent, and finally I let him. Then he scheduled a doctor’s appointment for me (I don’t really like doctors and avoid them like the plague.)


    And so I embarrassingly went to the doctor. The diagnosis was this: I had had an allergic reaction to the deodorant residue from the shirt I had borrowed from Barry. With that rubbing against my arms for a whole three hour drive home, I was left with severely infected hair follicles. Disgusting, right? That is just what you want to explain your new boyfriend!


    With medicine, the infection wore off in a few days, and Barry stayed by my side the whole time. So if anyone wonders how I know that Barry truly loves me…. It’s all in the armpits.

For you, Chris

    My little brother seemed slightly disappointed that I missed my “Take you back, Tuesday” last week. It’s so nice to have such a faithful reader, so I decided to dedicate this week’s memory, to my little bro.


     I now take you back to high school, where I was sitting on stage after having just performed a play. A group of us were sorting through the props that we had brought from home. As we were laughing, movement caught my eye. I watched two shadowed figures running across the catwalk (where the lights are hung, high above the stage). These boys, whom I recognized, were NOT supposed to be up there, and my patriotic sense of duty to the theatre urged me to go “tattle” on them to the principal. (Nobody messes with MY theatre!) My techie friend, Robert, agreed to go with me and vehemently I stormed into the principal’s office. As he offered us a seat, I couldn’t help but notice that he was staring at me with the most questionable look. I laid out the issue, gave the boys' names, and became really frustrated that he was obviously not taking me seriously. As we walked out of the office, the end of class bell rang and students came pouring into the hallway.


And all of them were staring at me.


I didn't understand. Questioning my self-worth, we fought through the throngs back to the theatre. As we were walking back on stage, Robert suddenly erupted into a violent fit of laughter. I was furious.


“WHAT?!” I yelled, desperate to know what had made me the target of humiliation.


And then he reminded me.






REWIND-----------------------------------------------------------



     I was sitting on the stage after just performing a play. A group of us were sorting through the props that we had brought from home. I dug through the pile and found my contribution… a pair of my little brother’s bright blue Scooby-Doo underwear that a character in our play accidentally pulled out of his pocket. In my brilliant sense of humor, I said, “Look, I’m a butt head” and proceeded to put my little brother’s (clean) underwear on my head. As we were all laughing, two shadowed figures caught my eye… and I forgot all about my little joke. And thus it was, I confronted my Principal with bright blue Scooby Doo underwear on my head… and then walked into a crowded hallway… with bright blue Scooby Doo underwear on my head.


And then, it all made sense.

Fat stories

I didn’t even realize that yesterday was Tuesday! That’s what happens when you stay at home all day with little kids, you lose all concept of time. Anyway, so the stories today, are dedicated to my embarrassing fat moments in school. For the record, this is in no way me trying to get people to tell me I’m skinny… they’re just stories… that make me giggle. My self image is in no way, in question.



STORY NUMBER 1-


When Senior year began, the two elective classes I took were theatre and choir. At the beginning of each year, the drama teacher would take her students on a tour of the theatre. Now, I had already taken this tour a million times, so I was prone to joke off more than listen. At one point in the tour, as the teacher was droning on about the fly system (the pulleys that lift the scenery), I decided to very ungracefully, hop up on a table to sit. When I say “ungracefully”, I mean that I hit it too fast and sort of pushed it back, causing the metal table legs to fall off and the table collapsed under my weight. You can imagine my fellow students’ shock from the random crash from behind them.


Later that day, I went to choir. Before we started class, our director stood in front of us and in his sarcastic humor, found it absolutely necessary to relay a story. He had heard that earlier in the day, some stupid kid had sat on a table in the theatre and actually broke it! The choir erupted into laughter and added a few more distasteful jokes about the fat kid that broke a table! Fortunately, I was the only member of my theatre class also in choir. No one else knew… that I was that fat idiot.


Thank goodness.


STORY NUMBER 2-


In college, I had the great fortune to play one of my favorite roles ever, Penny Sycamore in “You Can’t Take it with You”. There is a certain scene when my character is describing the play she is writing to her family. During one of our performances, as Penny tells the story of a girl screaming to a man not to take her virginity (it’s a tasteful play, I promise), I decided to add a little dramatic effect by diving onto a chair.


That chair buckled… and by buckled, I mean that the wooden legs completely shattered under my weight. I fell to the stage floor onto a pile of broken wood and just laid there while the audience… and my fellow cast mates… roared in laughter. I tried to keep saying my dialogue, but it took several moments for my cast mates to recompose. Even by the end of the scene, there were still tears in a few of their eyes, from trying not to laugh. (And I was working with AMAZING actors, who NEVER broke character… so that might explain just how ridiculous I looked.) After the scene was over, I went off stage, only to find the rest of the cast back stage, still laughing, and already working out some jokes…. where I was the punch line.






And those my friends… are my fat stories.

DEAD ANIMALS... LOVE... and LIES

Classy title, right?



    The first dead animal tale is dedicated to my cat, Miss Kitty. I was one of those kids whose pet was pretty much my best friend. So you can forgive me when, at thirteen, I harshly called my little brother’s babysitter a murderer, when she let our cat out of the house and it got hit by a car. I came home from Girl’s Camp and received the news. Begging my parents to let me see the cat, my dad told me that unfortunately he had buried it. I asked to see the grave, and after a few minutes pause, he told me he would take me after church the following day.


    It was so fitting, to be in our Sunday dress as we drove miles out past the river, to the small altar of stones where my beloved cat was buried. I said goodbye.


    After we were married, my dad was recalling the tale of Miss Kitty to Barry, and all of the sudden the story sounded different… something about a dumpster behind the Stake Center. WHAT?!?! Shocked, I asked him what he was talking about, and he said, “Did I never tell you?” He then told me the REAL story. He had already thrown the cat in a dumpster when I had asked to see it. So he actually drove miles out of town (on a dirt road by the river) and staged a fake grave site so his daughter could find peace of mind. I CAN’T BELIEVE HE THREW AWAY MY CAT! But I also can’t believe that he did that for me!


It’s not very often a lying father shows how much he really cares.


STORY NUMBER 2-


    In 8th grade, our science class incubated duck eggs and watched them hatch. Before the big day, our teacher announced that we were allowed to take the ducks home… with permission. I floated home on a cloud as I told my parents I could have a duck! Then they smashed my dream to smithereens. I was devastated, until my friend Brittany said her parents were allowing her to take two ducks. One for herself, and one for me! We named them Oscar and Felix and they were our babies! We took them on a walk and they faithfully followed because, in one day, we were already their mommies.


    A few days after we brought our babies home, Brittany showed up to school, with swollen red eyes, she sought me out. “Our ducks died,” she solemnly whispered to me.


“What happened?” I wailed.


“I don’t know! They just died,” she answered. And that was that. My first shot of parenthood, and our babies were dead within a week. I cried my heart out, thinking that I wasn't there for them, or I had done something wrong.


    Four years later, as a senior in High School, Brittany finally told me the REAL story. That fateful night, she had this brilliant idea to let the ducks sleep with her in bed. And then she rolled over in the middle of the night. And how she didn't feel the sudden lumps in her mattress... I will never know.
   It makes me wonder if our hamsters really did die of old age. Or if our turtle really was released into the wild. Or if our bird really was given to a friend of the family. Maybe it’s all lies. LIES, I TELL YOU!

Hi. My name is Krystle. And I'm an over-doer

    I have always been one of those people who likes to overdo everything… it’s something I got from my mom. If we are going to have a party… We. Are. Going. To. Have. A. Party. Celebrations are a big deal in this household. Halloween is no exception! Yesterday, my three children and I braved Wal-mart in order to buy our week’s menu of Halloween-themed dinners ( a tradition we started last year). When we got home I “had to” make Laycee’s Halloween costume (notice I put “had to” in quotations. I know that you never HAVE to make a costume for an infant, who doesn’t care and doesn’t appreciate it… but like I said, I am over-doer.) Then I “had to” make Halloween dinner # 1: French toast (I used Halloween cookie cutters to shape the bread into Ghosts, pumpkins, haunted houses, bats, and coffins.) After the kids went to bed, I “had to” make my Trunk-or-Treat decorations. And then I “had to” play the piano for two hours.



    What does playing the piano have to do with Halloween, you ask? Nothing. I’m simply trying to explain why I forgot my “Take you back, Tuesdays!” Blog. So Welcome to “Remember When, Wednesday!”


     I don’t know about you, but the first thing I’d do when I received my yearbook was flip to the index and find what pages my picture could be found. Freshman year of High School was so exciting because it was my very first hard-bound, mark of getting older. The minute that book was in my hands I raced to those final pages but, much to my chagrin, one solitary number was beside my name. I felt so disappointed to know that my grand legacy of high school-hood was only documented by one less-than-memorable school photo. As sophomore year began, I was determined to get my picture in those coveted activity pages.


    During this year, I got my first big role in a play. I was cast as "Motherella", the evil step-mother in a one-act entitled, Cinderella wore Combat Boots. A friend and I had too much fun designing Motherella’s hair and makeup. I ended up wearing an unflattering rainbow-colored Mumu with huge ratted hair, a unibrow, a giant mole, and a slight mustache.


    When I received my yearbook for sophomore year, I was ecstatic to see TWO whole page numbers by my name. Hurriedly, I flipped to the activity page my name was listed. Not only was that unibrow, mole, and mustache documented for the ENTIRE school… the photographer also caught me at this angle where my double chin was very pronounced. Actually, it wasn’t even a double chin… it looked like my chin sort of just melted into my neck. I was mortified! My first thought was to call my best friend for comfort.


Our phone call:


ME: Heather… turn to page 245 (page number has been changed)


HEATHER: (flipping through her yearbook) What?


ME: Do you see that picture?


HEATHER: The one of that ugly dude?


ME: Heather! THAT’S ME!!!!!!!


HEATHER: (Pauses. Then, in the background through a muffled reciever I hear uncontrollable bellowing laughter)

The moral of the story: Be careful what you wish for!!! You may wish for an immortalizing  sparkling portrait that others will envy and never forget… and end up as “that ugly dude”.


...That no one will ever forget.

Take you back Tuesday!

    The other day I was thinking that I should write down some of those stories from my past that I never wrote in my journal. Since I am much faster at typing, I decided to use my blog as a gateway to yesteryear. After all, my blog is called, “Pieces of Krystle”, so Tuesdays are now dedicated to writing pieces of my past.



So welcome to “Take you back, Tuesdays!” These anecdotes won’t be profound… as a matter-of-fact, I will be showing that it really takes a life time to master the dorkiness that I call, Krystle.


For instance:


It was the first day of Senior year of High school. I was determined that this would be the year I changed my stars. I was going to be a different person. This year… I was going to leave my mark. I was going to stand out.


On this day, I took extra care to curl my hair (which was significantly longer), and picked out a nice outfit. I got to school wearing a confident smile, making an effort to greet everyone as they passed. Joining the herd of students stampeding up the stairwell, my mind was focused on achieving my goal. So focused… I didn’t notice the pile of toothpaste someone had unloaded on the stairs as a practical joke. Without warning, I suddenly found myself lying on the ground, the loose papers I was carrying gently fluttered down around me. The stairwell froze and all eyes were on me. Then my ears started buzzing… I was being laughed at. There were two choices: Melt into the floor and disappear into miserable embarrassing nothingness, or get up in front of everyone and pretend to laugh at myself like I’d somehow planned the whole scene. Unfortunately, as I was standing up with a forced grin, I realized that my rear end was covered in blue goo. More chortles ensued, luckily I had a hoodie to tie around my waist.


That was that. My goal was achieved. Only five minutes into senior year and I already stood out. My minty fresh start was the end of changing my stars. I’d much rather be plain old Krystle, anyway.

I wonder what Walmart is like in Russia...

     So, at Walmart today, I was feeling pretty good. I caught two guys checking me out! (I did shower today, after all!) That never happens with two small children in tow… or ever… so I was pretty ecstatic. But then, a woman checked me out… and then another… and another, and by this time I realize that I am not THAT good looking, so I deduced that something must be wrong! I darted into the nearest empty aisle, pulled out my cell phone, and took a picture of myself. And sure enough, those two men who made my day, were staring at the huge mascara smear across my cheek.

   
     Darn.


     I wiped the smudge off, and continued on my way. As I was in the meat section, this woman came popping out of nowhere and was raving about how beautiful Laycee wass. She was loud, boisterous, and RUSSIAN! I’m not sure if she was drunk or just a really happy person, but she (without asking) ripped the blanket off of Laycee, and started kissing her feet… very loudly. "Muah! Muah!" Then she finally turned to speechless me, and LOUDLY said (in a thick accent), “I’m sorry! I just luff babies!” She smiled and began to walk away but then spotted Grayson peeking over the cart. Her eyes lit up! “You have a boy too! He’s beautiful!” She then playfully shouted, “Come here!” and started chasing Grayson, which of course, he loved. He climbed up on the meat railing and his foot got caught. She came over to him and was trying to yank him off, oblivious to the fact that he was stuck, and Grayson started yelling, “Ow!” She just looked at me and said, “Sumting is wrong.” I pointed out my poor son’s stuck foot, and she helped wiggle his shoe out of the bar.


    She smiled and then began walking away. But then turned around and shouted “ONE MORE TIME!” and reached out to tickle Grayson. Before she could reach him, he darted out of the way playfully, which threw off her balance and this middle-aged Russian goes crashing to the floor! Before I can say anything, Grayson dives on top of her and she just starts rolling around on the WALMART MEAT SECTION FLOOR tickling him! Loudly!


     A poor fellow shopper was trying to get through, but patiently waited while this bizarre woman was belly laughing… on the floor… without a care in the world. Finally, she got up, smiled at me like that wasn’t THE STRANGEST thing I had ever witnessed, and then casually waved goodbye to my son.


I am so grateful she didn’t hear him call out to her, “Can you come over and play at my house?”


What an eventful day we had at the circus… I mean, Walmart.


    Barry was laughing his head off as I reenacted the whole story, complete with a poorly executed Russian accent. When I finished wiping the tears from my eyes, I noticed my husband pouting. He looked at me and sadly said, “Why does the cool stuff always happen to you when I’m not there?”

It's official...

There is nothing more annoying than getting three kids all packed and loaded into the car just to pull out of the drive way and realize the front door is still wide open.

I seem to do that a lot lately.

CURSES

     We must be cursed. Growing up, whenever I would complain about someone to my mom, my mom would always say, "The Pox on them!" A "curse" she got from her mother. Obviously, someone wished the Chicken Pox on the Ricks. Sunday, I noticed a few mosquito bites on Jaye's tummy and they progressively got worse until her entire tummy was covered in little red, welty, bumps. Tuesday, I saw a few little bumps on Grayson's stomach and we decided to call the doctor.
       I thought for sure they were just having allergies, so we told Grayson that after we visited the doctor, we would go to the store and buy a Beyblade with his birthday money. (Something he really REALLY WANTED TO BUY.) That was dumb of us to promise. After the doctor looked at them, he turned toward me and started flapping his wings. Chicken pox?!? Really? I didn't know that was even still around! He told me that the sickness wouldn't manifest harshly because they have both been immunized but he said we needed to keep the kids home for 5-7 days. He even had us exit his office out of the back door, instead of through the front waiting room, so we wouldn't be exposing other children!
    When we got in the car, Grayson excitedly asked if we were headed to the store to buy his Beyblade... Oh No. You have no idea how difficult it is to explain to a four year old, that the few little tummy bumps he has means he is sick and cannot leave the house! He has been begging me every day if he could go to the store, go outside, have his uncle over to play, wake Daddy up, have friends over, have the babysitter come watch him... he even cried when I wouldn't take him to the doctor with me! We've all been miserably stuck.  Although, I laughed when I looked through the pictures I've taken this week, it seems like we've had the best week ever! I've tried to keep them entertained... but I count down the days until Tuesday when we can leave... and interact with human beings!!!
(Some pics from the last few weeks.These really show my kids personalities... we are just a bunch a goofs up in here.)




Painting little figurines from the Dollar Tree... that blessed store...

Finger painting...

I had to leave the table to feed Laycee, and all the sudden Grayson starts laughing and shows me how he has painted his arms... great. Thank goodness for washable paint!!! (From the Dollar Tree!)

 

Running around chasing each other to pass the time.

                                          Like I said... we're just a bunch of goofballs

           I bought like 5 cups worth of random buttons for a buck at a yard sale. They finally came in handy!

Two more cursed days... We can do this!!!

Three's Company

For nine months I heard it all. “You guys are crazy for having your kids so close!” “Three is going to be the hardest thing ever!” “blah blah blah…”



I’ve had nine months to mull over the idea of being stressed out for the rest of my life. I was sure the minute our baby was born, I would be close to tears from there on out. BUT, life hasn’t changed all that much… yet. So far, Laycee is just a sack of potatoes… eating and sleeping, although she is starting to be awake more during the day. Nothing has gotten too hard yet. We DO have to get up earlier to get everyone dressed on time. But, I STILL have time to play games with Grayson, time to color with Jaye. I just do it while nursing a baby… constantly. My kids both adore her, and they both love to help dress her, bathe her, and Grayson even begged me to let him change her diaper. It was a big mess, but I love seeing how much they love her! Jaye is close to being Elvira from Tiny Toons… A little too much love from big sister. Grayson is being trained on how to carry her properly, because he DOES carry her… we just need to make sure that hand gets under her neck, NOT her head. Laycee is an awesome baby! Hardly cries, and gets up every two hours like clockwork to eat at night.


So, to all you people who freaked me out for months and months about how miserable I was going to be… THANK YOU! I was prepared for the worst and so life with three has been surprisingly… not the worst. I love it!


So far.


I’m sure my opinion will be changing when Laycee starts crawling!

Baby time!

Forgive me if this is really poorly written, I am extremely doped up with pain meds, but I figured I’d better write this now, or I never will. Anyway…



What a whirlwind these past few days have been! August is going to be the craziest month for the rest of our lives!


August 11- I found out the doctor who has done the surgeries of both Grayson and Jaye, would NOT be back from his vacation in time to do my C-section. I started freaking out, I don't like doctors anyway, so to have the ONE doctor I really completely trust not be there... I was a bit of a mess.  


August 12- Showed up at the hospital at 7 am. After the spinal block, they waited a few minutes before checking if I was numb. The doc poked me with the scalpel and I could feel it! They decided to wait a few more minutes and all of the sudden I felt like I couldn’t breathe, so I started yelling that I couldn’t breathe and they tried to tell me it was just anxiety. The doc poked me again, and I told them it hurt. They asked “which side did we poke?” I couldn’t think, I was so scared, and so the doctor said, she’s just nervous, and was about to start cutting, when I screamed, “The left side!”


Thankfully, the nurse anesthetist was listening, and told the doctor I really could feel them and that they needed to knock me out. So, I was unconscious for surgery. They don’t allow anyone else in during an unconscious surgery, but for some reason, they let Barry in, which is kind of cool because he took pictures of the C-section, since he didn’t have to be by my side.**WARNING, GRAPHIC PICTURES BELOW! I didn't post these on facebook because they are kinda gross, but I think they are cool!** They told Barry later, that the Spinal block must have gone up (hence my inability to breathe) instead of going down, so I am so grateful someone in the operating room listened to me! It could’ve been terrible!


I came home after two days in the hospital and a few days later I started getting a horrible pain in my incision site. I went to the doc and they decided it is mildly infected. GEEZ! So, it is taking a LONG time to heal but at least I have a beautiful baby that reminds me to smile.

We named her Laycee (Because we love the name, and the spelling because it has the AY like JAYe and GrAYson. Weird reason, but it makes sense to us! And Rachel after my mom and we like to add a disclaimer that our sister-in-law Rachel is pretty amazing too so she gets credit in Laycee's middle name too! :)

 *****

Yesterday, August 18, was our anniversary! Since I was in so much pain, Barry asked my mom to watch Grayson and Jaye for the day, and he rented a pile of movies and we just stayed in bed with a bag of candy and a pan of brownies, and watched movies all day. It was fantastic and I don’t know how we have ended up with three kids in just five years, but I love our family. When they got home from Mema’s we all built a fort and played in it! I am sooooo blessed!!!!

Oh, and did I mention August 14 is Grayson’s birthday, the 13th is my brother’s birthday, and the 19th is the birthday of both of my nieces. YIKES! WHAT A MONTH!!!

My beautiful little girl

     Grayson absolutely loves to get his picture taken on my cell phone. One day, he was feeling particular loving toward his sister, and asked me to take some pictures of them. Unfortunately, he wanted to do "silly face" pictures, and for some reason, the face he made has stuck with my daughter. She thinks it is hilarious, and now I can't get her to make any other face for pictures. Sigh.

Believe it or not, this is just a sample of this face. I have a whole lot more on my camera. What a goofball!

Brilliant.

    Barry was given a free pair of headphones… really nice Smith and Wesson brand, the kind you wear when you go shooting. For fun, Barry decided to give them to Grayson, and my son was thoroughly excited as Daddy explained what they are for.



    Just before bedtime, Jaye managed to cut her chin and the screaming was Oh. So. Pleasant. Grayson ran away. A few seconds later he came walking out of his room wearing the giant blue headphones, smiling. He was staring at Jaye, and said, “Huh. These really are great!”

I think he is on to something,  I should market these for parents.

WARNING: A very whiney complaining Krystle

     I. Am. In. Pain.

      I’ve had a sore pelvic area for pretty much most of this pregnancy, but these last few days have become unbearable. On a scale from one to ten, ten being- take me to the emergency room, I’m about a 7. It hurts to walk, it hurts to stand, it hurts to roll over while sleeping… Last night I even found myself wimpering in pain each time I had to roll over or get out of bed to go to the bathroom. Yesterday, at Walmart, I had to do some shopping, and slowly and miserably I waddled through the store. After purchasing my groceries, I went to the service desk up front to pick up something I had ordered online. The woman looked at my receipt and told me I had to pick it up at the photo lab at the back of the store. I started crying. The thought of walking that far was overwhelming. My mom wants me to go to the doctor, but since it’s Sunday, I looked up my issue online.



And guess what? Supposedly, this is “normal” and I just have to deal with it. I couldn’t even find any suggestions on how to ease the pain. There better be a darned cute baby coming from all this, because I seriously feel like I can’t do this for 19 more days.


There. That is the end of my complaining.

Out of the mouth of babes...

     Grayson had a fellow youngster over to our house for a play date. It happened to be laundry day… a RARE day at our house. Amongst the toys and various other floor "decoration", I had piles of dirty laundry in the hallway and clean folded piles in our living room. The little girl walked around in horror and asked, “Why is your house so dirty?!” Later on, she went to the bathroom, looked in the toilet, and said, “the inside of your toilet is really dirty. I don’t want to use it.”

Apparently… I seriously need to clean my house.

Ax Murderer music begin...

    The kids were in bed. It was dark out, and Barry and I were just snuggling into bed to watch a movie. All of the sudden I heard an eerie noise creeping toward our house. I asked Barry if he heard it, and, of course, he didn’t. A few seconds later, I could still hear the noise so I asked Barry to listen and finally he heard it. An ice cream truck was coming down our street… at NINE p.m.!!! You have no idea how chilling it is to hear that little kid music blasting through the darkness! The music passed our house and Barry and I were joking about how unsettling it was, when all of the sudden, the truck flipped a U right past our house, and started down the street… AGAIN!!!



    It sounds ridiculous, but this was totally one of those scenes in a horror movie! Or an action flick where the bad guys pop out and start shooting up the neighborhood. What kind of ice cream truck keeps going when it has been dark for over an hour? And what kind of sick parent would let their kid run out to get ice cream from a stranger in the darkness?! Barry said if the truck came back he was going to call the cops.


I couldn’t help but burst out laughing… Can you imagine that as an emergency call?


“Yes, would you please send an armed officer … there’s an ice cream truck outside of our house… and it’s creepy. “

Dear World, What's wrong with you?!?!

    I fell upon this blog called, “Mocha Dad”. Don’t ask me how I found it, I’m not even sure why I started reading it. But this blogger’s mission is to break the stereotypes for African American fathers and show how involved he is in the lives of his children- his words, not mine. This dad read an article about how, statistically, married couples who DON’T have kids are happier than those who DO have kids. Mocha Dad didn’t agree with the article, although he did admit that parenting isn’t always a happy route, but opened his blog up to discussion. I was pretty horrified with the comments, although I should be used to the views of the world by now. Here is one such comment:



     “All you "I wouldn't change a thing" parents are missing the point. What's important here is that a growing body of research shows that you are not as happy as you think you are. It's hard for you to see this because you lack perspective; you made the irreversible choice and now you have to tell yourself it's good. It's like having a bad tattoo. Those of us without kids experience higher levels of happiness for a more sustained period of time... our whole lives. If you don't tell yourself that "it was all worth it" you will be depressed. It's an illusion that you must maintain to justify the years of hard work it took to raise your kids.


     And another thing... most people that choose not to have kids are not fearful of their parenting abilities nor do they come from single-parent homes, at least not any more than those of you that do have kids. They simply know a path to lifelong happiness when they see one and don't crumble to long-standing generational pressures to continue lineage. So get off your high horses, moms and dads of the world. You're no great martyrs. You are empiracally less happy than those without kids, but you'll never understand why because your lives have been narrowed by the demands of child rearing.”


     Really?!? Is the decision to have kids really based on such selfish reasons? I don’t feel very happy about 60% of the day with my kids. I’m cleaning up messes, wiping bums, kissing boo-boos, refereeing fights… it’s messy business. But I am also learning humility,strength, compassion, charity, patience, sympathy, and most of all, love. I feel like in the end, I will be a much greater person than a childless version of myself could ever become. So the article may be right, I might not be as happy (at times) than those who chose not to “continue their lineage”, but in the end I believe I will find more satisfaction with myself than the childless could ever dream.

(For the record, my thoughts only apply to those married couples CHOOSING not to ever have kids. I understand that some couples can’t have kids and I believe those trials will make you just as strong as raising children.)

Do people think before they speak?

    It seems like now that I’m really starting to show, people are starting to notice my family more and more. Like the guy who saw me struggling to get both of my kids out of the car and told me we looked like a clown car, because the kids just kept on coming. Or the random comments at Walmart to me and Barry as our kids beg us for pennies for the donation vortex thing… “Wow, you really have your hands full!”



Or today…


     I was trying to kill some time so I took the kids to the “Family Dollar” store. Of course, the toy display is the first thing you see when you walk in, and immediately Grayson got the “I wanna’s!” He usually isn’t so whiney, but we kept him up LATE for the Fourth of July, so today was especially bad. Trying to evade an argument, I told him maybe we could get whatever he was showing me at the moment, for his upcoming birthday.


That didn’t work.


     He started pouting, and dragging his feet, and trying to hide in the clothes rack, or just yell, “PLEASE MOMMY! I WANT IT!” Jaye is also trying to exercise her independence by walking, so she was fighting to stand up in the cart. I would make her sit down and she would start whining and stand up in defiance- over and over and over. One of the workers came up to me after studying my kids, then asked (in a very judgmental tone), “When’s the next one coming?” I politely answered: August 12.


And the woman started laughing at me. It was one of those cackles where you can just hear her brain saying, “Good luck, lady!”


     I was kind of embarrassed. I got in the car in a bit of a huff and was giving myself the pep talk- I know three kids will be hard, but I can do it! I felt like the Little Engine that Could. Then I got home to the pile of dishes, and the mountains of laundry, and the mess of a house… and I got a little worried.


    But today, the kids had combed hair, matching clothes, shoes on the right feet (without socks, though) and I even managed to feed and bath them... so maybe there’s hope for me after all.

Doc Appt.

     Today at my Doctor’s appointment, the nurse told me she was concerned because there was sugar in my urine. She asked if I had anything sugary for breakfast, and I just started laughing. Last night I hosted a baby shower… with a dessert bar… and boy howdy, did I have at those desserts! I explained that to her, and she started laughing. Then she asked my permission to write that on my chart because she thought the doctor would get a kick out of it: “Excessive desserts last night.” For some reason, that sounds so rebellious: excessive desserts.



    Also, my Doctor asked me when we had scheduled my C-section and I told him August 9th. Then his smile faded and he said, “Oh no…” Something you NEVER want to hear come out of a doctor’s mouth. He told me that he was going to Columbia at that time and wouldn’t be able to do the surgery.


“OH NO!” indeed!


     This is the doctor who delivered both of my other babies! And his replacement doctor is the only one I reeeeally DON’T like! “Or,” he finally added as I was sinking into stressful despair... I could wait until the 12th when he will be back … a whole three days after our original date.


I can handle that.

June

    Once again, I have been absent from the blogging world. It seems like I use the excuse, “I’ve been busy” quite often, but I am recycling it once more.



I’ve been busy.


    But my sister-in-law, Rachel, seems to find time to blog and she does a WHOLE lot more than I do, so my excuse seems kind of wimpy, compared to her. So here I am… attempting to update my blog.


    Almost half a year ago, the children’s librarian approached me about directing a show for the “teen segment” of the Public Library summer activities. I never thought it would actually happen, but here I am, practically 8 months pregnant and directing a cast of ten fantastic teenagers.


    We were given two days out of the week for the month of June to throw together a one-act play, called “A Bagful of Fables”. I don’t really have help with the show, so I have bought or made all the props and “costumes” myself. THANK GOODNESS for the Dollar Tree!!! And these past two weeks I have painted a 20 foot backdrop for the show… in my living room. By myself. THANK GOODNESS acrylic paint wipes off of wood floors!!! (Pictures to come soon. My AMAZING husband just taped it all up at the library today!)


     So… I’ve been busy. I got a chance to go to Walmart all by myself (a RARE opportunity!), to buy shirts for my cast. But being alone with my thoughts at Walmart, without the screaming, whining, begging, whining, rambunctious, whining children… made me think of my children, the upcoming one in particular.


I got excited.


And I bought her an outfit.


    The first money I’ve spent on the little bun in the oven. Only seven weeks left, and I’m just getting around to thinking about having her here. Is that sad? Or is it yet another sign that this has been the easiest pregnancy EVER?

...Or am I just too busy?

I should never be a science teacher!

    Grayson sort of grasps the concept of pregnancy… I’ve tried to explain it. He still gets a little confused so I thought if I could show him the baby moving, I’d have the perfect opportunity to explain things better. The baby was moving a lot, so I laid down on the floor and told Grayson to watch my tummy.



    He saw the baby move and all of the sudden his face melted from curiosity to complete horror. He looked at me and gasped, “It’s trying to crack you open!”


    What kind of horrible images am I planting in my poor son’s head?!? I think I will just retire from trying to educate my son about the baby… I don’t want him stuck with nightmares for the rest of his life!

Worst. Week. Ever.

  I was going to write earlier this week but I am soooooooo glad I didn’t! It would’ve been the most depressing, life-sucking post you would have ever read. And then you would never come back to my blog again. I’ve been sick. And miserable. And really REALLY sick of being miserable.



    Saturday, my throat started hurting, and by Monday, I had a full-on mash up of yuckiness. My throat was in so much pain it hurt to breathe, and I couldn’t even breathe through my nose. And my ears were so stuffed up that it made me feel dizzy non-stop. And of course, I get sick on the week that Barry only gets one day off, and has to sleep peacefully during the day as I struggle to be a sick mother. We just can’t get a break, can we Mothers?


    So, I’d have to say I get negative points on the “Good Mother” score board. I feel so disappointed in myself, I found myself yelling constantly, which was made even worse by the screechy cackling witch voice my sore throat created.


    On Tuesday, I got the kids their breakfast, turned on a movie and went back to bed. A few minutes later, Grayson pounded on the bedroom door, shouting, “Mommy! Jaye went poop!” I sprung to the doorway, and found Jaye standing there holding up her sweet little hands, covered in… you know. Grayson led me down the hallway and pointed at the smeared mess all over the floor. (Jaye decided to take off her diaper… and THEN do her business.)


     The sight was so overwhelming I just threw Jaye in the bath tub and sat on the floor beside her sobbing. Grayson was so concerned he went and woke up Daddy, saying, “Daddy, Mommy is crying!” I yelled at him to leave Daddy alone. Grayson then asked why I was crying. I didn’t know what to say so I just said, “Mommy doesn’t feel well.”


     A few minutes later, Grayson came back in the bathroom carrying my medicine. I snapped at him because he knows NOT to touch any of our medicines. And he looked at me with the saddest eyes and said, “It’s for you, Mommy. To help you feel better.”


    I gave my sweet child the biggest hug I could muster, and started sobbing again.


    Like I said, SERIOUSLY NEGATIVE POINTS on the “Good Mother scale”. When I feel better, I’m going to work on fixing that!

Third time's the charm

   When we first moved to Carlsbad, I was called to be the Sunbeams teacher. A few months after that, I was called to be a mother. I was so sick I hardly ever made it to church, and when I was feeling up to going, I was wishing I felt sick. My class was awful, although I’m sure it was the hormones blinding my judgment. I would get into the car after church and sincerely tell my husband that I was going to be a horrible mother because Sunbeams made me realize that I hated children.



     One day during class, one of the more “loveable” rugrats told me he knew sign language. I watched as the child signed “I love you” to me and my heart melted. “You love me?” I asked, my voice shaky with emotion. He rolled his eyes as he said “no!” and then signed his message again. “I said, I don’t love you!”


   The dimpled fingers of this tiny little three-year-old made me cry. A lot. Then I asked to get released. (More for my horrible, non-stopping illness, though!)


     I was relieved to learn a few months later that I didn’t really hate kids, but I always cringe (and laugh) when I think about Sunbeams. It has been a little joke between me and my husband. Three years later, last Sunday, I was asked (extremely last minute, as in, as class was starting) to sub for the Sunbeams class. This class isn’t known for the best-behaved children (I would know, Grayson is now in there), but I agreed to take on the task.


     The lesson was about appreciating our sense of taste and smell: easy peasy. I thought I was doing an excellent job with my spur-of-the-moment lesson. I drew a large oval on a sheet of paper for each child and asked them to draw a face on the oval, and to remember to be grateful for our noses and mouth.


    One little girl reached for a crayon and said, “I’m going to draw a frown on mine.”


   “A frown?” I asked. “Why are you going to draw a frown?”


    The little girl looked at me and earnestly said, “Because it doesn’t like you.”


     Memories of a little boy signing to me came rushing back. I started laughing at the fact that a whole new generation of sunbeams acted the same way. I must just have naturally bad rapport with three-year-olds. But the point of my story is: I didn’t break down and cry in front of these little “angels”. And that just goes to show you how FANTASTIC this pregnancy has been for me!

What a goofball!

These are just a few of the silly things Grayson has said recently:


*His preschool has been doing a Jungle-themed lesson plan for the last six weeks. At the end of the six weeks, they watched “The Jungle Book”. When we picked Grayson up from preschool I asked, “Did you watch a movie today? What was it?”


Grayson said, “I don’t know. It was about a bear and boy in his underwear.”




*Our fam was getting ice-cream at a little parlor in town. A guy was leaving the store so Grayson popped up and held the door open for him. The man said, “Thank you, Sir.” Grayson ran over to Barry and said, “He called me, sir! I’m not Sir!” Then he ran back to the doorway and shouted to the guy who was getting into his car, “Hey, You can’t say those words!”


(Barry tried to explain that all men are “Sirs” and all women are “Ma’ams”. )




*Grayson announced that he was thirsty, but wanted “the green drink” (Kool-aid). We were out of the green drink so Barry ran off his list of options from the fridge, but our son was very disappointed. Barry said, “maybe we can find something in the pantry,” and skeptically went on a search. He came out with a packet of Kool-aid and showed it to Gray. Grayson just smiled and said, “See Daddy, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

The most bizzare blog I've ever written

     I will try to write this as tastefully as possible, but it is just so funny I had to share! If it offends, I apologize. But, Jaye has a brother and Daddy and her concept of going to the bathroom has come from them. Now, Jaye has an “outtie” bellybutton. I guess to her, it resembles… well, “guy parts”.  Whenever anyone mentions the word “potty”, Jaye runs to the bathroom, lifts up her shirt and holds her bellybutton over the toilet. She will stand there for a minute or two, and just “go potty”.  

It. Is. Hilarious.

                         Now, here is a new one. She is actually wiping! haha

                 I hope potty-training isn't confusing for her!

Medical short stories

1)    About a month ago, my son’s finger happened to be in the way of a very heavy door. He smashed his fingernail, and for the past month we have watched as his nail turned to a very unsightly bluish-purple. Yesterday, it finally fell off, to the complete shock of my son. He cried, and begged for a band aid. Dr. Dad administered the bandage, but every once in a while he notices, “hey, my finger kind of hurts,” and gets upset again. Today, as we were sitting down to dinner, Grayson noticed his finger was hurting and began to do that in between whining and crying sound. We told him that we would pray for his finger to feel better, and he immediately folded his arms in faith. Dr. Dad gave the prayer, and as soon as we said amen, Grayson looked at us bewildered, and said, “it still hurts!”



I think I know what the next topic of family home evening will be…





2)  Since Grayson associates doctors with being sick, he calls Dr. Pepper: Sick Soda. We've tried to explain that Dr. Pepper doesn't have anything to do with being sick, but you know how kids and their little imaginations are.

   Barry came down with the stomach flu this weekend. Today he sadly explained to the kids why he wouldn’t be joining us for church, he wasn’t feeling well. As I was driving the kiddos to church, Grayson said, “Mommy, Daddy was naughty.”


Of course I asked, “why?”


“Because he drank sick soda, and now he’s not feeling well.”

What do you say to that?

One of those days....

    Today we were scheduled to get Easter pictures of the kiddos at Walmart. Since I was going alone (BRAVE SOUL I AM!), Barry sat Grayson down and told him if he was good for pictures, Mommy would buy him a toy (Bribery- the best parenting). So we got to the studio, and Grayson was AWESOME! INCREDIB LE! He was adorable in every picture, a perfect smile, a little studmuffin. He even got Jaye to smile for her only smiling picture. I was so proud I couldn’t wait to go to the toy section.



And then…


    He had to go potty... right as I sat down with the photographer to edit the photos and choose my prints. The photographer stayed with Jaye while I ran him to the bathroom. Now, Grayson is at that age where he is mortified to use the Girl’s bathroom because… it’s for girls. As he noticed I was tugging him past the boy’s bathroom, he dropped to his knees and started whining, “I don’t want to go to the girls bathroom! It’s for girls!” I had to drag him in and he started wailing. I ripped down his pants and sat him on the toilet and explained that I couldn’t send him in alone to the boys bathroom when there were strangers there, it could be scary. I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear a word I said through the sobs, but all the women using ALL the other stalls sure heard me. Finally, after two or so minutes of coercion, I got fed up and said, “Your only other choice is to hold it until we get home. What do you want to do?”


    At this time, I think his body decided what it wanted to do. He peed. All. Over. The. Place. He just kept going, all the while bawling his head off, while I’m shouting at him to get it in the toilet. Those poor women got quite the entertainment, but we still had to go back and order the darned pictures. I told Grayson that he would just have to sit in his wet pants (wow, this makes me sound kind of terrible), while I ordered pictures. So, I sat him in the basket next to the computer and he cried for about ten minutes while the dang lady tried to sell me the most outrageously expensive photo packages they offer. Grayson stood up and started pulling off his underwear… in front of everyone. Luckily I remembered I had a pull-up in the diaper bag. So, my son sat happily in the basket wearing a green dress shirt, vest, tie, and pull-up. That’s it.


    As I was paying for the pictures and apologizing to the woman, Grayson tugged on my shirt and asked, “Can we go get a toy now?”


It was a long… loud… tearful… drive home.

Ricks: The Musical

I have a habit of turning everything I do into song. Tonight, I was trying to get the kiddos in bed and started singing:

“It’s time for bed, so come on get in bed!
It’s time for bed, come on you sleepy head!”


While I was repeating my "part", Grayson unexpectedly started marching around with his toys singing (the same notes I was!):
“I can’t, I can’t do that.
I can’t, I can’t do that!
I can’t go to bed!”


It was like I was living in a REAL musical where people randomly break out into the same song! It was the perfect moment.


Now if I could just get him to sing different lyrics, like: “Yes Mommy, I listen to everything you say…”

rough morning

     I dared take my two kids around to the local yard sales today. Surprisingly, they were great, until we hit this huge fund-raising rummage sale at a local business. My kids joyfully dug through the bins of dirty toys while I sat on a dirty couch and watched them. They played for several minutes before I announced it was time to go. And Grayson threw a fit. A big one. I had to literally drag him across the parking lot while Jaye whined in my arms. Forcing my child into his car seat, I gave the big mommy lecture on how is behavior was disappointing to me. He looked at me with those big brown eyes and asked if we were still going to play his new bowling game when we got home. As punishment, I said “no”.



We drove in silence for a few minutes.




Grayson finally spoke up. “Mommy…”


“Yes?”


“You broke my heart.”




Where did he learn that one?!?! I didn’t know whether to laugh or feel really guilty. I broke a three-year-old’s heart! What a tragic moment in parenthood.




...But we still didn’t play the bowling game.