The Beginning of Summer

Today was really the first day of summer. Since yesterday was a holiday, today was the first day the children would have been in school, if it hadn't been for them getting out of school last Friday. We slept in late, then they went to a friend's house to play while I went to an appointment. This afternoon, Dane and Deanna each played with friends while Daelyn took his nap and I worked on some projects that have to be done by tomorrow evening. Late dinner, late bedtime, tired, tired, tired.

But happy. My babies are home, albeit very little today. It felt good in the house today - full of life and activity.

The beginning of many more to come this busy summer. YAY!! Summer is here!!!

Sharing the Bed with Donovan

Donovan has adopted a bad habit. He won't go to bed at night until I tuck him in. Now, of course, you all remember that Donovan is the DOG!! He sleeps in his kennel in the kitchen but, if Don tries to put him to bed for me, he cries, whines and yelps until I go into the kitchen, take him out of his kennel, tell him he's a good boy, kiss him and snuggle him for a minute or two, then put him back to bed myself.

Don's indignant about this situation, but his feelings have no bearing on Donovan's actions. The puppy, like all three of my children, wants MOMMY to tuck him in, not Daddy.

Last week, in the throes of this terrible bronchitis, Don brought the puppy to bed with us one night.

"You're not putting him in his kennel?" I asked.

"No, I'd like to actually get some sleep tonight," he retorted in a frustrated voice.

Apparently, he figured that since I was sick and already in bed, there was no chance I'd be tucking the boy in, thus his concern that Donovan would cry all night long (and a very long night it would have been, at that). However, once you allow the pup in the bed with us, there's absolutely no chance of ever getting him back in his kennel.

So he now sleeps with us. And he does such a good job of it that I decided to allow him in the bed with us for naps, as well. Today, while I was trying to get Daelyn down, I put Donovan on the end of the bed. By the time I had gotten myself in a prone position, he was next to my head, licking my face and Daelyn's. Daelyn laughed and yelled, "The Puppy!", which I hear at least 1,000 times a day now. I picked Donovan up, placed him gently back at the end of the bed, but before I was back in position, he was next to my head again. Once more, I moved him and turned over on my stomach.

Five minutes later, "The Puppy!!" reached my ears. I glanced down and Donovan was at knee level, nibbling on Daelyn's fingers.

"Just move your hand, son, and go to sleep!!"

Within several minutes, he had snuck back up to my face. In frustration, I decided to stare him down. I got eyeball-to-eyeball with Donovan and frowned at him, holding his gaze for several minutes. Just when I was certain I was very intimidating and he finally had the full picture, he licked me.

I've decided the best solution is to sleep on my side.

Early Morning Visitors

Several weeks ago, but after Daylight Savings Time had begun for the year, I awoke one morning to find Dane standing over me. He was fully dressed for school - glasses, uniform, shoes and socks.

"Mom," he said softly, "you need to get up and make my breakfast."

The first thing I noticed was that Don was still in the bed next to me. Very suspicious, since he's usually up by 4:30. Next, I noticed it was dark outside - very dark, not the thinning darkness of early morning.

Don groaned. I rolled over and looked at my clock, squinting to see it without my glasses on. 2:20 it glared at me with its red light. I groaned.

"SON," I nearly shouted, "it's 2:20 in the morning. That's the middle of the night. I only went to bed 3 hours ago. Take your shoes and socks off, put your glasses away, and go back to bed!!"

"Oh," he responded, simply - typical response for Dane. Then he quietly disappeared.

Several hours later, he re-appeared, this time without his shoes and socks.

"Now is it time to get up, Mama?" I glanced at the clock. A very respectable 6:30 a.m.

"Yes, son, it's fine to get up now, if you're ready."

"Will you get up and make my breakfast," he asked eagerly.

"It's a little early for breakfast, sweetie. Sissy's alarm won't even go off for another 15 minutes. Mine hasn't gone off yet, and Daelyn is still asleep. Once everyone's up and Sissy's dressed for school, we'll have breakfast, the same as usual."

"Well, then, can I go play on the computer or watch a movie?" he asked.

Long sigh. Why is it that he bounds out of bed before the crack of dawn and I struggle to get up well after the sun is high in the sky and the son has been up for hours? And what do I do with him when he gets up so early and I'm still battling to get in as much shut-eye as possible?

Deanna's just like me. Even as a baby, she's snuggle up against me in the bed and sleep until I was full ready to wake. On weekends, she'll sleep in until noon, if I let her. She's motivated to rise early because she can't watch cartoons until her Saturday chores are done, so she generally gets up and at 'em. But, given the opportunity, she's a sleeper.

Daelyn has always been early to rise. As an infant, he'd be up around 5:30 every morning. Dane is just like him, rising early no matter how late he got to bed. He might be an absolute bear all day, but he's still up early.

Now we've got Donovan to add to the mix. It's very funny that none of the children have any compunction about waking Mom, but everyone tiptoes around to keep from waking the puppy. HE'S A DOG!!! Who cares if he gets woken up. But they're, like, "Don't wake the baby. He's still asleep." "Be quiet. You'll wake Puppy." "Don't jump on Mommy's bed. Donovan's sleeping." They walk up to the side of the bed, shake me, and whisper in my ear. Mommy ought to be up - after all, we're up - but Donovan, he's the baby. He needs his sleep.

I know I need to be thankful for these years. Soon enough, they'll all be rising and dressing for school without the need for Mom to wake them. They'll be running out the door with a piece of toast in their hands and won't want to sit and eat as a family. I'll make them, anyway, of course, for the sake of family life, but life will be very different.

For now, I'll have to settle for buying Dane a clock for his room to curtail the 2:20 a.m. visits. That should do nicely - for now.

Better

The antibiotics and Kahlua and Cream did their job. I'm feeling better and ready to face the world again. And just in time, too. Of course, Don went back to work again today and I had to get the children up and dressed for school, breakfast made, laundry sorted and started, and the kids out the door. Dane has a doctor's appointment this morning, so I've got to be bathed, dressed, with hair done and make-up on before 10:15. Nothing like going from a standstill directly to a sprint.

And I'm sprinting in another way this week. This is the final week of school - YAY!! Deanna's teacher's husband is having major surgery tomorrow (for cancer), so today is her last day of school. The class is having a party in honor of her last day, using gift certificates they received for participation in a fund-raiser. Tomorrow, Dane's class has their end-of-year pool party all day. Deanna's is on Wednesday. Then, Thursday is Field Day and Friday is a 1/2 day, with most of the day being taken up with Assembly and Awards. I'll be subbing for Deanna's teacher and Don and Daelyn will join me for half of the morning.

Whew!! The last month is always a challenge. On the flip side, I never knew a person could sleep so much, short of a coma. The bronchitis really zapped my energy and I'd get up about 11:00 a.m. or so for a couple of hours, lay around on the couch, and then head back to bed for a nap around 1:00 or 2:00. Up around 5:00 to lay on the couch and kiss the kids good-night, then back to bed around 9:00. The whole weekend was just a blur. I didn't realize how bad it had been until the children were complaining about something yesterday and Don commented that he did the best he could and "have you noticed Mama? She hasn't even put on any clothes in the last 3 days, nor has she bathed or been outside the house."

A slight exaggeration. On Friday, while Don napped, I got Daelyn down for his nap, then dressed, picked the kids up from school, got them home and directed them through chores, then got Deanna to ballet at 3:30 before coming home and collapsing. But it was mostly true. I decided I better bathe, quick, before my husband caught whiff of me. Yesterday morning, I woke at 8 a.m. (a sure sign I was feeling better) and decided all the outside plants desperately needed watering. Truth be told, they needed watering on Friday and Saturday, too, but it just wasn't in me. But they got their water yesterday, and I wore myself out from 2 hours of watering. And I DID put on clothes.

So, today, I'm back in the saddle - attempting full-scale life, albeit gingerly. I'm trying to pad my day with naptime and rest time. But if I'm going to get my chores done and still have time for a nap, I've got to get to work - dinner to put in the crockpot, laundry loads to switch.

Have a wonderful Monday. Hope you all are able to accomplish everything on your To Do List today.

Bronchitis Woes

I had to go to the doctor yesterday. My throat started getting scratchy last Thursday and, instead of getting better, I kept getting worse. By Wednesday, I was coughing a deep, dry cough. Yesterday, it worsened and became productive. I knew I had bronchitis.

The problem was, I was in the process of switching doctors and had not yet seen my new doctor. But I called anyway and asked if he'd see me. He's a family friend who lived next door to me with his young wife while an Intern. His wife's whole family has been very close to me for years. I lived with her parents for 4 years while she was still very young, so this doctor is almost family.

Because I had not yet had a new patient visit, the nurse asked him if he'd see me. He told her he'd fit me in, and I packed up Daelyn and headed out.

The wait was very short. I was suitably impressed. When he walked into the Treatment Room, I hopped on the table.

"Okay, Patti, what's the problem," Billy asked.

"Scratchy throat a week ago, followed by cold symptoms. Now progressed into bronchitis. Need antibiotics before it turns into pneumonia," I rattled off.

Billy turned his head sideways and looked up at me over the top of his glasses.

"I self-diagnose," I explained. I was attempting to make it as easy and quick for him as possible since he was doing me the great favor of fitting me in, although not even officially a patient of his yet.

"I see," he commented, and snickered. Then he pulled out his stethescope to have a listen.

"Deep breath in and out," he commanded in his polite doctor's voice. I attempted to follow directions but broke into a coughing fit.

"Okay, NOT so deep breaths," he said. "As a matter of fact, breath as little as possible."

The coughing was BAD. Nobody ought to have to hear this, especially not through a stethoscope.

He finished up and made the expected announcement.

"It's not pneumonia yet. Your lungs are clear. But you definately have bronchitis. Let's get you on some antibiotics."

See. I told you. Do I get a break in cost for saving you the diagnostic effort?

He sat down in the chair in front of his little desk. He pulled out his prescription pad and then stopped to think for a minute.

"Patti, you don't smoke, do you?" he asked.

"No, no, no. No smoking. But I try real hard to drink," I answered. Again, the eyebrows up, looking at me over the top of his glasses.

I continued. "I begged Don Tuesday night to get me a bottle of Kahlua. We had a half-pint of cream in the fridge and I was dying for a Kahlua and Cream. But he refused."

"To help you sleep," Billy asked.

"Yes," I replied, emphatically. "I figured it'd take the edge off my coughing and relax me. But Don said 'no'."

"Well," Billy responded, "we'll take care of that. I'll write you a prescription."

He discussed a few other matters with me, drew some blood (a new patient thing), then wrote out two prescriptions.

"Here's your antibiotic. Can you take Amoxicillin with your stomach problems?"

"Yep. That one I can handle."

"Okay, then. That's what we'll use. And here's your other prescription. I need to see you back in two weeks to review your bloodwork and check your breathing again." He handed me two prescription sheets, said goodbye, and left the room.

As I was putting them in my purse, I glanced at the second one.

"Kahlua & Cream QSH" it read. I asked at the Pharmacy what QSH meant. They said "at bedtime". Several of the women working at the Pharmacy would like my new doctor's name and phone number.

I picked up a bottle of Kahlua on the way to pick the kids up from school. Last night, I crushed some ice in the blender, put it in a juice glass, covered it with Kahlua and added cream. I sat on the loveseat in the Den, sipping my drink. When it was half done, I noticed my coughing had subsided tremendously and I was breathing easier.

"Don, if you had just bought me that Kahlua the other night, we could have saved a doctor's visit today," I told him.

But where would the fun have been in that. Billy was quite entertaining in his serious, doctor way. Thank you, my friend, for seeing me, for the antibiotics, for the caring ear, and for the Kahlua prescription. I'm feeling better already.

Preschoolers

Overheard while in the van driving to the Mall with Daelyn and a 4-yr. old friend buckled in back seat.

Boy #1: "What's that smell?"

Boy #2: "It's you!"

Boy #1: "No it's not. I think it's your Mama."

Me: "I beg your pardon!! I just took a bath, put on perfume and deodorant and brushed my teeth. It certainly isn't me!!"

Boy #2: "I think it's gas."

Boy #1: "No, no. It was a bus."

Peels of Laughter. I have no idea what was so funny. I think they were trying to make a play on words and they thought they pulled it off.

Later:
Boy #2: "There's a crocodile."

Boy #1: "A Kroger truck?"

Boy #2: "No. A crocodile."

Boy #1: "A crock-go-dial?"

Boy #2, shouting: "A crocodile!!"

Boy #1, shouting back, and frantically looking outside the van: "Where?!?"

Boy #2: "Right here in this book."

Long quiet pause.

Boy #1: "What does that bug do?"

Boy #2: "I TOLD YOU, 'I don't know'. I've been saying it over and over again. I DON'T KNOW!"

Silence. Despite Boy #2's rants, I never heard him say anything until the above statement.

Just think how much fun three 4-yr. old boys would be. I need to pray more often for the Preschool Teachers of the world.

Can't Celebrate for even One Moment

Several weeks ago, after returning from our visit to Don's parents for Holy Week, my dryer broke down. It was still turning, but it no longer had hot air.

I had about 8 loads of wash to do upon returning home, and no way to dry my clothes. Two loads dried fairly well by me laying them over chairs on the deck, but it was an arduous process and I could only dry a few things at a time. Eight loads would not all get done. So laundry piled up.

I do laundry twice a week - Monday's and Thursday's. I discovered the broken dryer on Monday but Don hadn't gotten it repaired yet by Thursday, so I had to forego laundry yet again. Over the weekend, Don was able to get it working again and I had a formidable task facing me for the following Monday.

I did 10 loads of wash - 1 of whites, 2 of lights, 2 of darks, 1 of reds, and one of something else, I don't remember what. Then I had a load of bath towels and a separate load of beach towels that I had used for a picnic. Last, I had a load of mats (maybe two loads of mats - that might be my extra load). Anyway, lots of wash. Then it all had to be folded, hung up, put away . . . By the time I got to bed Monday night, I was exhausted but felt pleased with how much had been accomplished.

Tuesday, I sprang out of bed, hollering to the children to strip their beds. I did 4 more loads of wash, all our bedding, then remade all the beds with clean sheets and washed a few more mats. I finished the last of my chores at 11:30 p.m. but, again, was pleased that the house was getting put back in order. I lay in bed, thinking about how much work had faced me Monday morning but how it was all now behind me. I had accomplished it all. I had met the task head-on, fiercely tackled hours and hours worth of monotonous, exhausting work, and I was proud of myself. I decided to take the day Wednesday to rest, spend with a friend and her child Daelyn's age, and make sure Daelyn got lots of Mommy-time.

I was still feeling quite smug on Thursday, despite being thrown back into the normal routine of laundry. At least it wasn't Mega-laundry. I got most of it out of the way, then laid down with Daelyn to settle him in for his nap. Suddenly, a thought rolled through my head. I latched onto it, expanding it and searching my memory banks to make sense of the random thought. Like a lightning bolt, clarity struck me. I was supposed to have spent Tuesday morning with a girlfriend who's on bedrest due to complications from pregnancy and help with her toddler while giving her a chance to visit with a friend. Not only had I forgotten, it was SO FAR forgotten that I didn't even remember when the initial thought hit. I had to pursue it before the memory clicked and, even then, it was THURSDAY.

Talk about embarrassed. I don't know how she managed. She has various friends coming to stay with her on different days, and that was the one for which I had volunteered. Somehow, the accomplishments of Monday and Tuesday were shameful, instead of inspiring. Guilt rather than satisfaction prevailed in my spirit.

I've since spoken with that friend and asked her forgiveness for forgetting about her need and placing my own before hers and my commitment to her. It certainly wasn't intentional - I was just caught up in a broken dryer and lots of laundry.

Doggone, though. Just when you start to feel good about what you've accomplished, you realize how short you fall routinely. God is the only perfection - I know that. I just wish I was more like Him.

Grand-standing

My Mom called yesterday right after we got home from church looking for an egg to borrow and told me that my sister, niece, and nephew, who was home from college for the weekend, were at her house. When I couldn't sleep because of the drop of caffeinated coffee I had at church, I snuck out of the house with the puppy and headed for Mom's.

It was great to see my nephew, who hasn't been home since Christmas. Grandma decided my nephew needed to see Donovan's tricks, so I trotted him into the living room to show him off. He's a wonderful puppy and smart as all get-out, but he's young and distractable and often has to be given a command repeatedly before he responds. I knew it was a stressful situation for him, also - at Grandma's house, in front of at least one stranger. He followed me to the carpet and dutifully turned, looking up at me. I smiled at him, told him what a good boy he was, then commanded him to sit. The words were barely out of my mouth when he plopped his rear right down. I patted him on the head and told him how impressed I was. Then I told him to lie down. As if in anticipation of my words, he flattened his belly onto the floor almost before I spoke. I was amazed and praised him. Then I commanded him to jump up and raised my hand to waist level. He stood up on his back legs and began dancing for his audience. Everybody clapped for him. I picked him up and kissed him and told him what a smart dog he was.

"Well, that's it. That's all the tricks he knows."

"What about that one I saw you doing with him at your house," my sister asked.

"You mean, rolling over? He's just learning that. He can't get his hind quarter over yet and doesn't yet understand the command. And I don't have any treats with me."

"Oh, come on. I saw him doing it at your house and he almost had it. Let him try for Bradley." Toni's argument was compelling.

"Well, we'll give it a try, but don't be disappointed if he just lies there yelping," I responded.

First, I told Donovan to sit. Then, lie down, both of which he did immediately. "Roll over," I said, and turned my hand in a circle in front of his fact. "Roll over," I repeated, turning my hand again. And doggone it if he didn't. Flipped that rear and rolled completely over, grinning at me the whole time.

I shrieked in disbelief. My little puppy's been holding out on me. Whoops and cries went up from Donovan's audience. I scooped him up into my arms, kissed him, and praised him highly. The rest of the crowd clapped vigorously. Mama came and took Donovan from my arms. She kissed him, then took him around to Bradley.

"Isn't he the smartest dog you've ever seen?" she exclaimed. "And he's so sweet and easy to teach."

"He's sure smarter than our dogs," Bradley said drily.

"Hey," yelled Toni. "My babies can do all kinds of tricks."

"Yeah," Bradley responded, "like eating frogs."

Everyone laughed. Toni added, "At least he keeps the neighborhood frog-free!"

Our little puppy is so much like the rest of the family. He apparently loves grand-standing and is a little of a show-off. He learns quickly and loves being appreciated and praised.

Not all too different from my children. Possibly even a little like me.

Path of Least Resistance

Today, our Bishop was coming to do Confirmations. The Handbells were playing for both the 9:00 and the 11:30 services at our Church, so Don had to get there early to practice and stay late to take down. We decided I should take the kids just in time for the early service since we were staying for both (to hear the bells play) and they'd get very antsy. The less time they had to waste around the church the better for all of us.

On the drive over, it was raining. Deanna was sitting in the very back of the van, looking out the window.

"Mama," she asked, "why do all the raindrops, no matter where they hit the window, make their way to the same path to run down the window?"

"It's called 'the path of least resistance', honey," I explained. Then I launched into a philosophical discussion about what that means. I explained that the raindrops find the easiest route down, where the path of debris and dryness has already been cleared, much the same as the ice speed skaters we watched during the Olympics would tuck themselves in behind the front skater and take advantage of the lead man breaking the air. The wind resistance on them would be much less, giving them a little rest and the opportunity to increase their speed after the respite. Even the tiny bit of resistance they experienced from moving their bodies through the air could affect their overall time and every microsecond of less resistance moved them closer to Gold.

The Scripture from Matthew 7 (13 and 14) sprang to mind: "Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it." I explained to Deanna that the world, the flesh and the devil are all tugging at us. If we're not moving forward, then these forces are pulling us backward. There is no standing still in the spiritual world.

"It's much easier to get to Hell than Heaven," I told the children. The way to Hell is the path of least resistance. Heaven takes work. It's not easy - it's narrow, rocky, and has had much less traffic to smooth it over."

All three children sat quietly. I asked Dane if he understood what I was saying.

"Yes, Mama, I really do," he responded. "Satan makes his way easier for us so we'll take the easy path and end up with him. If we want to be with God in Heaven, it takes work."

"It also means that we can't do what everyone else does," Deanna chimed in.

"That's right," Dane added. "We have to choose the hard way, even if everyone else chooses the easy way. We shouldn't follow the crowd, we should follow Jesus."

"And His way isn't usually easy, but it's worth it," Deanna finished.

Long sigh. Children with spiritual eyes and loving hearts. I hope this is a lesson they remember always. Me, too.

Hair and Cinnamon Buns

The other day, Deanna did her own hair before school. She pulled it into a ponytail, then didn't pull the ends all the way through, leaving the hair in a loop.

"Look, Mom," she announced, "I have a bun. And I did it myself."

I smiled and nodded, not willing to burst her bubble. However, after several remarks about how nice her bun looked and how easy it was to do, and how everyone ought to do buns, I was a little afraid she might go to school and chastise her friends for not doing their hair in "buns" more often. I decided she needed to know the truth.

"Sweetie," I explained, "that's not really a bun. It's just a ponytail that you didn't pull the hair completely through."

"Then what's a bun?"

"You start with a ponytail but then you twirl the end of your hair around the ponytail holder and pin them down. It really does look like a bun - like a sweet roll or cinnamon bun."

"Oh." She was a little disappointed, but she doesn't even have hair pins, so a bun probably wasn't going to happen for her. And certainly not of her own doing just yet.

She thought about it for a minute and then brightened.

"Well, maybe a hair bun looks like a cinnamon bun, but I don't think anybody'd want to eat it."

I laughingly responded, "Except maybe Donovan. You can never be too sure about him."

We both laughed, appreciating the fact that Donovan often chews on our hair. Maybe he really does think hair is as good as cinnamon rolls.

Yesterday, I was getting ready to go the hospital to visit a friend. My hair was lack-luster and flat. I fiddled with it a little, then decided to pull in into a high ponytail. I used a barrett first, but the hair just fell flat against my head again. I got out one of Deanna's rings and used it instead of the barrett. It added a little more heighth, but the weight of my hair still pulled on the front. Finally, I wrapped the hair around the ring, pulling it into a tight bun and reached for hair pins one-handed while holding the bun in place with the other. I successfully attached it with only 3 pins, then took off for the hospital.

When I got home, it occurred to me to show it to Deanna.

"This is a bun, honey. See how it's curled so it really looks like a bun."

She nodded, examining it carefully. We chatted for a few minutes, then went outside to check on Don and the boys, who were working on the side of the house building a garden box for me. The puppy was tied around the wheelbarrow and the boys were sitting in the driveway keeping Dad company while he worked. I spoke to Don and the boys, then noticed Donovan was jumping up on me, trying to get my attention so he could greet me. I bent down to him, tucking me chin down so he could give me lots of kisses on the face. Instead, he went straight for my hair. I felt his teeth on my bun. I quickly grabbed the top of my hair and gingerly extricated it from his jaws.

"Let GO of my hair, you monkey," I yelled. "That's a hair bun, not a cinnamon roll."

Deanna glanced up just in time to see me pull my hair out of Donovan's mouth. Her eyes got big around and she broke into a deep laugh.

"You were right, Mama. He doesn't know the difference between hair and treats."

Good thing a hair washing was on my agenda.

Sesame Street

As I'm typing, Daelyn is watching Sesame Street. Cookie Monster is smelling the letter for the day, "J".

Cookie Monster: "It smells like a 'J'. It looks like a 'J'. It sounds like a 'J'."

Daelyn: "You can't hear it, because you don't have any ears. YOU'RE A COOKIE MONSTER!!"

I'm not sure who needed to know that more - the T.V. set, the puppy who's sitting next to Daelyn as he screams, or me. In any case, apparently, Cookie Monsters don't have ears.

Humor at Home

The dynamics of humor are very interesting at our house. Don has a great sense of humor, but very dry and quiet, so if you don't listen carefully, you'll never hear it. Deanna, also, has a great sense of humor. She enjoys a good joke and laughs readily and heartily. She gets the nuances of humor in a way that the boys may never be able. Like the time Daelyn was jabbering nonsense at the table. I looked at him for a while, then asked gently if he had had a fall on his head that I didn't know about. Daelyn just stared at me, but milk spurted out Deanna's nose like a fountain. She's very tuned-in to humor and listens for it in every conversation.

Dane is my quiet child. We're not sure if he gets most of what happens around him. I suspect it's all going in, he's just not reacting (very like his father). Once, when he was only 4, we were driving down the street. I had resigned myself to the fact that he must have a learning disorder and was a little "slow", at least compared to Deanna, when he commented that one of our neighbors had a different air conditioning company than us. I quizzed him about this comment. He responded that the truck sitting in their driveway was different from the one that visited us. It had been a solid year since our air conditioners had been serviced and I was floored that he remembered what the truck looked like. Add to that the number of service trucks sitting in driveways, and the fact that he even noticed the truck, and I was astounded.

"But, son," I pressed further, "how did you know that truck was from an air conditioning company?"

"Oh, that," he responded in his slow, drawling style, "I saw them carrying in the condenser a few days ago."

We decided that the only thing "slow" about Dane was his speech patterns. Obviously, he had a brilliant mind and noticed everything, he just didn't feel compelled to share all he observed, unlike a little girl I knew.

Dane's that way with just about everything. If he gets our jokes, or even hears them, is any man's guess. And Daelyn is still a little too young to understand humor, unless it's slapstick, which we don't go in for real big at our house. Sissy's our bastion of humor.

About a year ago, Daelyn was talking at the breakfast table about the Trinity.

"Okay, Mama, so there's three people who are all part of God - the Father, the Son, and the Homely Spirit."

Deanna snorted before she fell off the bench. Daelyn looked puzzled, I grinned, and Dane hummed quietly. When Deanna finally stopped laughing enough that she could resume her meal, Dane asked me to explain what was so funny.

"Daelyn said 'homely Spirit', not 'Holy Spirit'."

"What does homely mean, anyway," Dane asked further, trying desperately to understand why Deanna and I had spent the last 5 minutes cackling.

"It means 'ugly', son," I told him.

Dane eyes got big around. His mouth got even bigger in the shape of a giant Cheerio.

"OH!" was his simple reply. No laughter, no other comment. But we knew he got it. Deanna smiled from across the table and nodded at me. Our sweet, quiet Dane. Maybe someday, he'll learn to appreciate humor - at least, the humor used by our family.

Tooth problems

I tried to write yesterday, but Blogger seemed to be doing goofy things and never would come up. So I abandoned the idea of yesterday and am attempting posting today.

Over a year ago, I was trying to open a bottle and used my teeth to assist the process. Don always tells me and the kids that teeth were meant for chewing - nothing else - but I did it anyway and paid the price.

I have several adult teeth that are missing. My father has 4 missing teeth, my mother has 3. I inherited all 7. Three of them were wisdom teeth, so that was no big loss. My dentists over the years were able to save two baby teeth, but they were smaller than the adult teeth, so they put bonding material over them to make them larger. Bonding material can't exactly match tooth enamel in its opaqueness, so then my front teeth didn't match the ones on either side. The end result was the dentist bonded both of my front teeth with a coating of bonding material that matches the other teeth.

In the bottle accident, the bonding chipped off on one of my front teeth. Although my natural tooth is showing up underneath, it's a different color and it looks like a chipped tooth. I look like a hick.

Unfortunately, the process of having this redone is expensive and timely and my dentist doesn't work on Fridays. Don is home on Fridays so I could leave Daelyn with him to get my dental work done, but HE DOESN'T WORK ON FRIDAYS. What kind of business doesn't work on Fridays? For two years now, I've looked like a country bumpkin with missing teeth in the front.

We had to go to Homecoming at my parents church while looking like that. I used to be the Youth Director there and they were honoring past staff members, so I was singled out. Of course, the accident happened the night before Homecoming.

Lots of other events have taken place with my teeth in this condition. I got a call earlier this week from a lovely young woman who was one of the teens in my Youth Group. She's getting married in September to a young man who was also in the Youth Group. They're in their late 20's and have dated on and off since high school. I put the date on my calendar and then made a mental note that "the tooth" MUST get repaired before the wedding.

In the meantime, I try real hard to smile with my lips shut. No open-mouth pictures for me. At least until the dentist starts working on Fridays.

Cinquo Success

Momentus day yesterday. Daelyn had his 4-yr. check-up with the Pediatrician. Dane had a talk with him the night before, unbeknownst to me. At 8 p.m. on Thursday, Daelyn came into the kitchen crying.

"They're gonna give me shots tomorrow. Call Dr. Miller right now and cancel my sheck-up, Mama. I don't want to go."

I could have killed Dane. What's more, I wasn't sure that was true.

"Son, I don't know that you ARE getting any shots. Brother might be wrong."

"I'll get the phone. You call Dr. Miller and ask, okay?"

Daddy and I both worked very hard to get out of that one. Daelyn woke up the next morning fussing about his "sheck-up". All told, Dane was right. Daelyn had to tinkle in a cup, he had his hearing and vision checked, he had a physical exam, and (deep breath) got 3, count them, 3 shots. We didn't tell him about the shots until the nurse had the syringes sitting on the treatment table, all ready to go. I had to hold him down. I put my arms over his torso with his hands above them, so he couldn't harm the nurse. He reached up and, when it hurt, pinched my neck repeatedly. Not out of meanness, just out of pain. So now Mommy has a bruised neck to match Dae-Dae's bruised thighs.

He missed his nap and was a huge grump. Deanna came home from school feeling puny, so she skipped ballet to rest in anticipation of her big night. I skipped my 5 p.m. commitment, and we went to pick up her friend for dinner. I told Don that whatever he and Ken did with the boys for dinner, they should do it early so he could get the boys to bed early - then Deanna and I ran out the door.

We were sitting in a booth with my niece and sister, munching on chips and salsa and our wonderful meal (shrimp quesadilla for me) when my sister sucked in her breath and muttered, "Uh-oh!" She was sitting facing the door, I sat across from her. I stood up, turned around to look over the booth and standing at the front entrance was Don holding Daelyn. For a minute, I wasn't sure if they had chosen the same restaurant as us for dinner or if there was some problem with Daelyn and Don had come to bring him to me. Turned out it was the former. They were sitted two booth's away from us. Dane ran over to visit, as did Daelyn.

Later, our waiter came over. I explained that that was my husband sitting over there. My sister and niece kept yelling, "Don't believe her. She just wants to flirt with him and wants you to do the dirty work." I ignored them and asked the waiter to go tell him I thought he was a hunk. The waiter laughed and said, in very broken English, that he didn't deliver messages.

As we were getting ready to leave, he brought our check. "Did you give that handsome guy my message?" I asked, joking.

"Yah," he said, "but he said he didn't know you."

Deanna got her ears done. They look beautiful and she's very tickled with herself. I'll post pictures soon of the experience. I got several of her cringing in anticipation. On the way home, she said it didn't really hurt.

But she's decided her hair looks much better in a bun than down. I wonder if it has anything to do with the sparkle at the bottom of her ears?

Oh, by the way, my brother-in-law says that the Mexicans won a very important battle on May 5 against the . . . (I wasn't listening closely enough) - that's why they celebrate Cinquo de Mayo. I came home with a great Corona Beer T-shirt that has some cutesy saying on it. A good time was had by all.

Piercings and Parties

Cinquo de Mayo. I'm not quite sure what this holiday is all about in the Mexican tradition, but it's fun to say, anyway. And tonight, we're celebrating. Not the 5th of May, as thousands of other Americans will be today, but a hallmark in Deanna's life. She and I have finally prevailed with her father and she's getting her ears pierced tonight.

We're making quite a big deal out of it. We invited all the girls in the family. Unfortunately, Grandma, the leader of the Clan and most fun person in the family, is still in Kazakstan on a Mission and won't be able to join us. But Aunt Toni and Aunt Trina and Cousin Meme will be there. Deanna asked if she could invite a friend, as well, so her buddy, Theresa, will be going with us.

We're going to - yes, I'm a little crazy - a Mexican Restaurant for dinner. I'm hoping that we'll get there early enough to celebrate the fun of Cinquo without the drunken crowds of Cinquo. We're planning dinner for 5:30. I'm leaving Don and the boys to fend for themselves - ah, ain't it lovely!!! (By the way, that's a statement, not a question.) Then we'll all process up to the Mall for "The Piercing".

Deanna's wanted her ears pierced since she was two. The idea of being able to wear sparkly earrings beckoned to her like a Siren's Call. But her Daddy's response was, "When you're 16, we'll think about it." I, myself, got my ears pierced by a woman in the neighborhood without permission and much younger than 16. We froze my lobe with an ice cube, sterilized a large needle, then she poked it in, using a carrot top behind the ear to catch the needle on the other side. I thought I was all prepared, though a little nervous, until the needle went into the carrot and there was a loud CRUNCH. You don't want to hear crunching when someone's sticking a needle in your ear. I tried very hard to calm my panic by telling myself it was the carrot that crunched, not my ear, but the second ear was pretty tricky. The process they use these days is so much simpler and cleaner. Just choose a pair of earrings (they have 4 different styles from which to choose), sterilize the ear, place a dot on each and make sure they're even, then - pop - the gun shoots the earring right through the hole, like a paper punch. Very little pain, very quick, almost no preparation.

But, back to my previous thoughts. I got my ears pierced earlier than 16, and I've been lobbying for Deanna. Every little girl needs pierced ears. Once I was convinced Deanna was fastidious enough to keep her ear disinfected and clean until it healed and was certain this was what she really wanted, I was all for it. But Daddy said "16 - that's the age for those kinds of things."

For Easter, I got Deanna this beautiful jewelry set to wear with her Easter dress. It had a bracelet and necklace and matching earrings. Again, she complained and asked if she couldn't get her ears pierced so she could start wearing some of the beautiful earrings she sees. I talked with Daddy again. Deanna's had a tough year. She needs some encouragement, some kind of reward. Daddy agreed to think about it a little more.

When we came home from West Virginia, he pulled out the School Handbook, which he had studied while we were gone. He had it open to a page about grooming.

"Okay," he started, "according to this, you can have pierced ears, but no more than two piercings per ear and no piercings anywhere but the ear."

I waited patiently for the final statement. You can't extrapolate with Don. It would seem that this was his approval, but you can't be sure until you hear the final answer. So I stood there, waiting. He looked at me, dead in the eyes, then squinted and looked again, as if he was trying to read something there. I'm not sure what he saw. Maybe hope for Deanna. Maybe pleading. Maybe an image of my beautiful little girl with pierced ears. I don't know. But the final answer eventually came.

"I suppose it's alright. You can get her ears pierced."

I whooped and hollered, then hugged and kissed him and thanked him for his thoughtful consideration. Not many daddys are as concerned about the small things as Don. I'm glad he's so involved in every aspect of our children's lives and wants to be the one to make these decisions. He's a strong, loving, prayerful man of God, and an example to our sons and daughter.

So, we're celebrating Cinquo de Mayo tonight as gals, with the youngest one being honored for another rung in the ladder of life. My little girl is growing up - slowly, but surely.

Happy 5th of May to you, as well.

The Unexpected

Two Daelyn stories today.

This morning, I had to take a quick bath before walking the kids to school. We're in the process of teaching modesty and privacy - knocking before you enter a closed door, waiting until you are invited to enter, closing the door back behind you, not running through the house (or outdoors) naked, not dropping your drawers on the WAY to the bathroom, etc.

I always close the bathroom door, not that it makes much difference. But the children are beginning to learn to knock before entering. This morning, I pulled my hair up on top of my head so it wouldn't get wet during my 5-minute bath. I was busy scrubbing when the door flew open and in walked all three. Deanna had something to ask me, Daelyn had already thrown the door open, so she followed him in, assuming it was alright. Dane was tagging along.

Grand Central Station. A little embarrassed to have so much company while trying to bathe, I asked what was up. Deanna began her question when Daelyn interrupted her.

"Mama," he said, "you look nice today."

Thanks ever so much, son - naked, no makeup, hair piled on my head. At least he's generous in his opinions.

Later this morning, we had to go to Wal-Mart to get some pictures developed. While we waited for the 1-hr. developing, I took him to the in-store McDonald's for lunch. I've been trying to teach him letters and their sounds in preparation for Kindergarten in another year. We've been working on the vowels. He now knows a and e and their sounds. I decided to give him a little different experience and, while we ate, I asked him about the letter "c".

I told him the sound c makes, then asked him, "What word starts with that sound," expecting "cat" or "cow".

"Culture," responded Daelyn.

O.K. Culture begins with a "c". I sat and stared at my son for a minute. He certainly is unique.

The unexpected - both in vocabulary and opinions of beauty. That's my boy.

Health Issues

I never thought I would dislike the subject of Health. When Deanna was in Kindergarten, First and Second Grades, I couldn't wait for her to have some new, interesting subjects. This year, they added Health to the curriculum. What I thought would be wonderful has become a thorn in my side.

Deanna spent the first 2 months of school spouting daily at the breakfast table, "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day." Then she went through a season where they were studying the food pyramid and she had to eat a balanced breakfast, including fruit, each morning. Now, I don't make slouchy breakfasts. On Monday, we have eggs, toast, and sausage or bacon. On Tuesdays, we have French Toast, Waffles, or Pancakes. Wednesday is hot cereal day - Cream of Wheat, Oatmeal or Grits. Thursday I've declared Junk Food Morning - toaster streudel, pop tarts, those wonderful pastries you can now buy in the frozen food section that look line mini cinnamon rolls but you put them in the toaster. Friday (Don's morning to do breakfast) is cold cereal. Variety is key. I rotate from week to week what we have each of these mornings, so we don't eat oatmeal two weeks in a row or waffles twice.

I think I do a pretty good job with breakfasts. BUT . . . Deanna had to have a "food-pyramid-balanced" breakfast. I had to add lots of extra foods to include a piece of fruit every morning, then there's be so much food on the table that the children couldn't eat it all. I was very happy when they finished that module in Health.

Next came the Digestive System - oh, good grief. As we ate dinner, we'd get a lecture on appropriate chewing habits, how the digestive juices begin working in the mouth to break down food, then continue the job in the stomach, then to the colon, etc. Great dinner table talk. They actually took a field trip and spent a whole day studying the stomach. In a city near us, there's a museum where they have a 3-story boy and you can walk through his internal organs. His esophagus is a slide. The Third Grade spent an entire day wandering through somebody's digestive tract. Gross (educational, however).

And, OOOOOOOH, the skeleton. I can't tell you how many times I've heard the proper names for bones. When Deanna broke her foot, she babbled for hours about which bone in her foot had broken. She discussed various bones with the Doctor as if she were an Intern. Musculature became a frequent topic.

"That's your trapezius muscle, Mom. " "Don't you know that's your clavicle, not your 'collar bone'?" "My triceps are sore." "Dane, that's your patella!!"

My daughter has become a know-it-all. She's old enough now to know lots of stuff but not yet old enough to know that you don't have to show everybody just how much you know.

The maturing process - learning when it's appropriate to share knowledge and when you should quietly keep it to yourself. Come on, Maturity. We're eager for you!!

Brothers in Crime

Daelyn and Donovan are like twin brothers. They're about the same age, into the same things, and have about the same daily schedule. Donovan's relationship with each family member is unique. Dane is his sugar-boy (same as me) - everytime he gets near Dane, he licks him profusely, then cuddles with him. Deanna is his exercise buddy - they walk together and she plays with him and feeds him. Daddy is the authority figure from afar - seldom home but silently meets Donovan's needs when he is. Mama is the same to him as to all the children - he follows me around, expects me to meet all his little desires, whines for me when he needs something, and has to have lots of quality time with me. But Daelyn . . . Daelyn is his bosom buddy. They fight with each other, they share food, they tease, jump, play, bite, pet, snuggle. You never know from one second to the next if they're playing, fighting, or loving on each other.

Daelyn will dangle his food in front of Donovan's face, then snatch it away just in time. Donovan will jump up and nip his finger. Daelyn will sit on the couch to watch a movie. Donovan sprawls on the floor and takes a nap. I take Daelyn to put him down for his nap; Donovan kennels himself for HIS afternoon nap. When Daelyn gets up, he runs around the house with Donovan chasing him, both of them shrieking with excitement. Just two toddlers enjoying each other.

The problem is, they're always complaining about each other. Daelyn screams that Donovan is jumping up on him. Donovan yelps because Daelyn is teasing him. Several times a day, I'm separating the two of them and sending each of them into their own corners.

Deanna wanted a little sister when I got pregnant with Daelyn. She was sure God was going to give her a sister to spoil and do girl-things with. Instead, we got Daelyn - a VERY boyish boy. Sissy's grieved her lack of females in the house. I work hard at spending quality time with her practicing the feminine arts (such as SHOPPING), but I can't substitute for a baby sister. She treats Daelyn sometimes as if he were her sister. She puts makeup on him and dresses him in her dress-up dresses. He's still young enough that he's willing to play girl-things to spend time with Sissy. But this season won't last forever.

Then we got the puppy. Sissy tries to treat him like a little sister, as well. She wants to hold him all the time and snuggle him. Donovan is extremely snuggly, but only when HE wants to be. He won't be forced to cuddle when he wants to run and play. She gets bitten quite often instead of the snuggling she desires because she tries to force it.

I got a lovebug companion, Dane got his sugar-pup, Daelyn got the brother he wanted and Deanna got another boy in the family. Poor Sissy. Everybody got exactly what they wanted except her. She loves Donovan and is thrilled with him, but he can't replace a little sister. She has to settle for Mom.

Summer's Coming

Today is the first day of the last four weeks of school. The children can wear shorts (a special uniform short with a special shirt, not just any old shorts) this month and during the first month of school - September. It's a nice change for them and me.

Lots of parents choose not to invest in the shorts uniform, but I love it. It gives me a break from HAVING to do wash every third day to be certain the kids have uniforms. If they don't have any clean shorts, they can always wear their regular uniforms.

This time of year is always so busy, it's like walking a tightrope. One wrong move and you fall off. Between end-of-year tests, end-of-year parties, end-of-year recitals . . . there's more than enough to fill every waking moment of most of the sleeping ones, as well.

But it's a fun month, and then we have summer!!! I love the summer - having my children home from school every day, getting to play and do fun things with all of them, planning activities and swimming. We've already booked a lot of the calendar.

In June, we're going to the Outer Banks for a week on vacation. We have a place on Hilton Head Island but, for years, I've been wanting to trade it for something right on the beach. We love our timeshare - it's perfect for us, but it's a good ways from the beach. We plan several beach days while we're there, but it's not quite the same thing as rolling out of bed and running out to the beach. So, I put my request in with our Exchange Company when we realized we couldn't go to Hilton Head this year due to timing. They discouraged me, nearly promising that nothing that met my requirements would be banked. I wanted a 3-bedroom that slept 8 privately right on the beach but not too far a drive from us. I called frequently to check on our request. While the kids and I were in West Virginia visiting Don's folks, he called one night and said RCI had called about 15 times and left messages that they had a match for our vacation request. When I called them, it seemed perfect for us. I was willing to settle for something much less nice than our condo to be on the beach, but I needed accomodations for 8 so we could take Don's parents with us. They found us a 3-bedroom with two queen rooms, one room with 2 twin beds, and a queen sleeper sofa. It's ON THE BEACH and the date was perfect for us. Although it's a bit of a ride, we're excited.

We leave early in June for a week. Once we get home, we have Dane's 7th birthday and we're planning a camping trip for the week after our vacation. Next up is Vacation Bible School at church and I've volunteered to help again this year. That takes care of June.

Deanna's wanting to attend Horse Camp and we want to make another trip to West Virginia. Deanna usually spends a week alone with her grandparents, so we have to try and schedule that, also. The summer's booking up quickly.

But, first, I have to get through May. I just have to remember that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Summer's coming, and so is vacation.