Not Such a Great Week

Okay, once again a huge, long delay, but with a good reason. The short of it is I just got out of the hospital after three days as an inpatient.

The long of it is that I've been struggling with a sinus infection for 5 weeks, which probably means I've had it for 7. Five weeks ago, my head hurt so bad, it woke me during the middle of the night and I thought I had an aneurism. I tried to wake Don to take me to the Emergency Room, but he finally, after two months of insomnia, was sleeping and it just was more than I could tackle on top of my headache. The next day, I went to prompt care and got antibiotics and nasal sprays to get me through. I got worse. I went to see my doctor who put me on a stronger antibiotic - Levaquin, for those of you who know it. I got worse and the infection spread to my lungs giving me bronchitis. I went back to my doctor. He ordered a CT scan of my sinuses, put me on a third round of even stronger antibiotics (Cipro) and oral steroids and voiced serious concerns. The next day, I got a message from my sometimes ENT telling me my doctor's office had requested they see me immediately. Yup! Sinus scan looked bad.

The CT Scan was last Monday and I scheduled my consult with the ENT for yesterday, Thursday, July whatever yesterday was. By this past Sunday, I was wheezing and getting sicker yet. I got scared and called Daelyn's godmother who's a retired nurse to come over and check me out. She did and insisted I call my doctor at home before she left the house. He encouraged me to use Dane's jet nebulizer and give myself a breathing treatment, which helped mildly. By Tuesday, I was really scared. I just kept getting sicker and no one really seemed to "get it", except perhaps Deanna who was very frightened about how sick I seemed. Complicating things significantly was that Don had also developed a sinus infection that had spread into bronchitis.

I decided I couldn't wait any longer for MY ENT to return from out-of-town, so I called on Tuesday and scheduled with one of his partners. He examined me, looked at my CT, and told me he needed to hospitalize me immediately. I had two choices - emergency sinus surgery that night or hospitalization on IV antibiotics and IV steroids. He told me that I was in danger of a brain abcess. He said I had had too much infection too close to my brain for too long and there was REAL danger. I opted for hospitalization, fearing surgery with so much infection wouldn't go well. He decided to call an Infection Disease specialist and get advice.

They put me on the strongest IV antibiotic available, based on the Infection Disease doc's input, plus another IV antibiotic and IV steroids. I knew I was sick but didn't quite realize how sick until yesterday evening.

My new ENT came to talk me through how we were progressing. The Infection Disease doctor who, incidentally, was the same one who was called in on my case when I was pregnant with Daelyn and had the severe blood infection that almost claimed my life, had ordered some blood work and I asked my doctor if the results were back. He pulled my chart from the nurses station and discovered the startling news that, after 36 hours of the strongest IV antibiotics available, my blood was infected, also. I had another blood infection. I was VERY ill.

We sent out a general prayer request and God loves to respond to our prayers for healing. This morning, I had a lung X-ray and another CT Scan and the doctors decided to release me on oral antibiotics so we can make it to our family vacation in Hilton Head tomorrow.

I'm not yet out of the woods. He insisted I take his phone number with me and warned me that I may be coming home from Hilton Head mid-week and going into emergency sinus surgery. There's no way to know at this point how I'll progress. In any case, surgery at some point in the future is a definite.

Before I left the hospital, he asked me if he could schedule my surgery for me the week after our vacation. I said no, but that we should schedule another appointment to see how things are progressing and decide how soon we need to operate. Don is scheduled for sinus surgery on August 27 with another doctor in the same practice and it would work far better for me, in terms of recovery, if I could wait on surgery until the children are back in school. If they operated on a Friday after the start of school, the day of surgery the children would be gone from 8:30 to 3 p.m. and Don would be off to be able to be with me, pick them up, etc. He'd be home on Saturday and Sunday and, by Monday, when he needed to go back to work, I should be well enough to make the children's lunches, breakfast, get them to school, then rest as much as needed until 3. It would be far simpler for our life, if I can wait that long. The ENT is doubtful, but we'll see. In the meantime, I'm still a little bit touch and go. We don't have the radiologists report on my lungs yet so we're not sure how they're progressing and I'm very weak and tired. We're working very hard at getting the packing done while keeping me from overdoing.

This all sounds pretty dismal and is very scary, but there are lots of positives, as well. It was the Holy Spirit that prompted me to call two days earlier and be seen by someone else. With the addition of the blood infection, if I had waited until Thursday to be seen, I may have been dealing with life-threatening consequences and would most certainly not be going on a family vacation. It was the Holy Spirit that prompted my doctor to call in an Infection Disease specialist. I asked him, before his conversation with the other doctor, what antibiotic he was going to use. He told me, then later explained that the Infectious Disease doctor had overridden him and had a clear sense that we needed to do the MOST possible. That was the Holy Spirit. The antibiotic he used was the same one he used for my previous blood infection. I believe he knew in his spirit that the infection was much more widespread than my doctor realized. It was the Lord that guided each of these steps.

Once again, God had preserved my life, which could have taken a drastic turn for the worse this week, but didn't. While we're all still a little shell-shocked around the Doughty hacienda, God is good and is continuing to protect and defend me.

We are hoping to be able to leave town tomorrow, but may be turning around and coming home on Sunday if things go south. We just don't know. For now, we're trusting God and praying that this vacation will bring me the rest and healing that I need. All that salt water and salt air HAS to be good for my sinuses.

So, my dear friends, pray for me for God's continued protection and wisdom for Don and I and the doctors involved in the decision-making. Lots of decisions will have to be made over the next two weeks. They've scheduled me to see the ENT at 9 a.m. the Monday following our expected return from the beach. They're not wasting any time. I'm hoping they'll do another CT scan, so we can see how my sinuses fared over the beach trip, and make the decision on when to operate on the progress I've made at that point.

Life . . . always something happening. But, thank God, as usual, his mercy was falling like drops of rain from Heaven, covering our family.

There's a reason why this Blog is called Mercy Drops Falling.

P.S. Kelly, if you're reading this, sorry you missed all the excitement. I sure do miss you. Please send your e-mail address so I can let you know personally what's happening when we get home. Love you and big kisses to my birthday boy. Patti

Better Late . . .

I've been pretty pitiful about posting this summer. We spent another week at my in-law's in West Virginia. We were to leave Dane behind for his week with them, but we were all sick by the time we left and it seemed best to reschedule his time with his grandparents.

Don scheduled another appointment with my doctor for me, which I kept on Monday. I just keep getting sicker. I had already been through two rounds of antibiotics, one fairly strong.

The result - still have a sinus infection and now we've added bronchitis to it. He sent me for a CT Scan later in the day. The next afternoon I got a call from my sometimes ENT's office, telling me that I had been referred to them and they needed to schedule an appointment for me to see my ENT right away. I guess the CT didn't look so good.

The next morning, I took all three children to the doctor. Although he believed them all to have only colds, since they have not yet cleared up, chances are they now all have sinus infections, as well.

On Thursday, after fighting light-headedness, extreme fatigue, crazy coughing, headaches, and difficulty breathing for a couple of weeks, I went back to see my doctor. In addition to polyps in my sinuses and thickening (which I assume means scar tissue), all the drain holes have been clogged up and my sinus' are unable to clear. Antibiotics rid the congestion of infection - temporarily - until it sits long enough to get re-infected. He also said that the infected mucous is draining into my lungs, infecting them as well.

Lovely. Deanna would say WAY too much information. But it's been a tough several weeks and I'm still fighting it all. Daelyn's cough is terrible and Deanna's constantly blowing her nose, sounding more like a trumpeting swan than a child.

The children have had enough time since we've been pretty stationary to work on Christmas presents. Dane and I sat down with his gift list last night and matched up crafts to people, setting priorities and laying out a plan for finishing. I'm very excited. He has some very cute things that he's made for the relatives and very appropriate. I love that my children do crafts and do such a good job.

So we muddle through, and when I can breath and think clearly, I try to prepare for our week at the beach, coming up soon.

Hope your summer's going well. Our's is going swimmingly, although not "well".

The Sweetness of it All

I'm off for West Virginia and Grandma and Grandpa's house again. Dane needs his week with his grandparents and we all agreed that none of us had quite enough time with them this summer, so I'm taking the children for a few days, then leaving Dane behind.

I'm looking forward to the visit. Not only do I really enjoy being with Don's parents, but I also enjoy the slow pace of life while I'm there, as do the children. We do lots of crafts, wander slowly through stores, enjoying "just looking" as opposed to "tearing through for that one item". The children help Grandpa pick the garden and play with the fish in his pond. Donovan runs through the backyard unfettered, chasing people who are walking by on the street. I get to sleep in - until at least 8:00 every day. There are no schedules, no "have-to-do's", and no meetings to rush off to. Just peace, fellowship, and the joy of my beloved in-laws and my children.

That being said, last night I was up very late. I think I got to bed around 2 a.m. Then I had trouble sleeping, thinking through everything I had forgotten to pack and tons of other stuff. As I lay there, listening to Don breathing next to me and very aware of his tired body, I was overcome with missing him. I HATE being away from him - every single time. I always think I'm going to do better but, in the end, I miss him terribly. He's a quiet guy, but a strong presence in his quiet way. I like running into him in the house, watching him watch his children, and seeing that little glint in his eye when he gets tickled with me or them. As much as I want to see his parents, I don't want to leave him.

This is the perfect week for the trip. In addition to his very hectic job, he's also covering for his boss and one other person, so he's performing triple duty. He warned me that he'll be very late getting home at night and, if I was going to choose some time to be gone, this is probably the best time. Yet, listening to him breath and knowing I won't be hearing that sound for awhile tugged at my heart.

We'll stay in touch over the phone and I'll be home before we know it and reconnect with my other half. Until then, I'll feel, most assuredly, like half a person.

I guess I shouldn't complain. Missing him is a good thing, right?

Bizarre News

A mother taking her infant daughter's social security number and using it to charge up thousands of dollars in debt. Who does she think is responsible for the debt? And her infant daughter starts her life as an adult with a tainted record. Thanks, Mom.

A man is swimming in a local lake and, in plain view of other swimmers, disappears under the water. When he doesn't resurface, they call for help and begin trying to find him in the muddy waters. A diving crew later finds his body. Ten years previous his brother drowned in the exact same spot.

A young man visiting Six Flags over Georgia climbs over two security fences in an effort to reach out to riders on a high-speed roller coaster. He and a friend climb through the rails and he gets stuck, just as the coaster approaches. He's decapitated. An off-duty fireman waiting in line to board the ride calls 911. Those security fences were in place for a reason, buddy. The investigation requires Six Flags to post LARGER and more frequent signs. Give me a break - like the guy didn't realize he was putting his life in his own hands. How could this be Six Flag's fault?

On the 4th of July, a woman decided to celebrate by shooting her handgun into the air. After discharging all her bullets, she goes into the house to reload and hits her best friend and brother's fiance, killing the woman. Wow! What a way to celebrate.

Of course, none of that can top the punches thrown between two city officials at a recent public reception. Word is, one of the men could've wiped the floor up with the other, had he tried. Instead of debating the imminent winner had a sensible man not intervened, why don't we take up a collection to send these two men to anger management classes - separately.

One more, of an entirely different nature. We're all learning the Ten Commandments. While most of us are capable of figuring them out if we spend some time thinking, we decided memorization in order would be helpful. On the way to church yesterday, I took along the listing Dane had made and we began memorizing. When we got to "Thou shalt make no graven images," I paused to talk about graven images with the children. Deanna spoke up:

"Like when Moses was up on Mt. Sinai getting the 10 Commandments and they made the golden calf."

"Exactly," I said. "They made a statue, then began to worship it, bowing to it and singing songs of praise."

Deanna: "There's one thing I don't quite understand, Mama. How could they think it was a god? THEY made it."

The humor of the situation hit me. Yep. To consider something you create with your own hands to be a god . . ."just how did I get here? Oh, yeah. That gold calf that I JUST made put me on this earth before it was even made . . . "

News of the Bizarre, alright.

The Next Installment in . . .

. . . "Daddy can do anything. You know, he's an Electrical Engineer."

Daelyn and I were snuggling yesterday. He's very overtired and was fighting with everyone. In an effort to get him out of the mix, I took him into my room, snuggled him for a few minutes, then read him a couple of books, making them last WAY-Y-Y-Y longer than they normally would.

While snuggling, he began his saga again about his daddy. In an effort, possibly jealous-effort, to even the score just a tiny bit, I asked:

"So, Son, can Mommy do anything?"

Shrieks of laughter.

I guess not.

Freedom

I'm surrounded by the laughter of children. A breeze flutters across my face, bringing with it the scent of theater-style popcorn and cotton candy. I move out of the warm sun into the shade of a big tree, noticing a father holding his sons hand as they walk by, the child excitedly talking. A mother leans down to give a bite of a snowcone to her daughter. Next to me, two older men are chatting about politics and the need for rain. I stroll over to a drink stand and wait for a soda. A man arrives at the same moment as me, but the workers are adding ice to the cooler, so we wait patiently. When the job is finished the workers look at the two of us.

"Who's next?" they asked. I point to him and look to see him pointing at me. We both laugh softly and I place my order.

Behind the drink stand is a round gazebo with built-in benches for sitting. I invite my guests to join me in the gazebo and, as we enter, a man is talking with his young granddaughter. When it seems that our addition to the gazebo may create a space problem, he stands, picks up the child, and says, "We've been in here long enough. Enjoy!" and exits the shaded area.

As we sit with our popcorn, snowcones and soda, my youngest runs up to me.

"Mommy!" he yells, excitedly. "I'm having a wonderful time. I already went down ALL the waterslides and I saw lots of my friends."

I hug him and smile. His brother and sister must be having a wonderful time, too, because I've yet to see them.

After resting for a few minutes, we decide to check on my guests' son. We wander down the yard towards the waterslides. To my left, I see several babies and small toddlers playing in a low sprinkler and tumbling down the slide of a baby pool while watchful parents stand poised to help. In amongst the small crowd is my dear friend and her beautiful baby. He's laughing and splashing in a pool. She's bent down towards him, tenderly caressing his head, smiling into his cherubic face. Then I notice the music, soft and distant - the strains of patriotic songs are coming from somewhere.

The breeze stirs again and we spot our sons together in line at a waterslide. My friend pulls out her camera and excuses herself to walk closer, hoping to capture the look on her son's face as he bounces off the top of the slide. I look around for Deanna and catch a glimpse of her in the distance, sucking on a ring pop she must have won in one of the games. Here, by the slides, I can hear parents calling to their children and laughing as they watch the antics. Children's laughter is decidedly louder and the sounds of merriment are more intense. An older couple are deep in conversation on a bench in the shade of a large pecan tree. People all around me are greeting each other and "Happy 4th" can be heard from every direction.

Thankfulness wells up in my heart. Today did not come without work and sacrifice. It's not something that occurs by accident. Even the freedom to celebrate this way is something unique. As I listen to the laughter around me, I think of the many lives that have been lost for this day to happen, the men and women who gave EVERYTHING for our freedom, not even completely understanding what that might mean to future generations.

And I think of the lives lost so that other lands might enjoy this freedom, many without success. My father spent two years of his life in Vietnam, fighting for that country's freedom. They are not celebrating today. And celebrations like this are something most Vietnamese have probably NEVER seen.

I think about the conversation with my sister two weeks ago as she recounted to me the scene at the Moving Wall, a 3/4 scale model of the Vietnam Veteran's War Memorial in D.C. The Wall came to our town and my father was asked to sit on the stage and participate in the dedication. It brought back memories of the time years ago I took him to see the Wall. There are no dates on the black granite - just name upon name upon name, completely overwhelming in the magnitude. We asked a worker to help us find the years Daddy was there. She directed us to a section of the granite. Papa stood, reading name after name.

"He was one of my men." "Oh, yes, there's so-and-so." "I had forgotten about young blank." "So many. . . so many . . ." until he finally turned, pressed his back against the wall, and slid to the ground. I found a place on the grass next to him and he began to share, story after story of men assigned to his unit who died. As he'd tell a story, his eyes would fill with tears and his voice would falter. He'd pause for a moment, collect himself, then finish the story of some young American's gruesome death.

"They all died," he said, distractedly. I turned and glanced at the tower of names, extending almost limitlessly to the right and left.

"Yes, Papa, they all died." I felt my throat tightening, feeling a little guilty at the incredible blessing of the life of my father and understanding how many of his men didn't return. I don't know why God chose to preserve him and so few others. But I'm thankful.

My father fought for today. He lived to be thankful for his freedom. Many others didn't. In the distance, I think I hear the sound of taps playing on a lone trumpet.

Later, as the evening ends with a stirring tribute to the Flag and a roaring rendition of "God Bless the U.S.A.", I find myself involuntarily standing when the words, "And I'd gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today . . ." are sung.

She is worth defending. The many who have died are worthy of our honor. And even unpopular wars deserve the respect of those of us who celebrate our freedom.

God bless the U.S.A. and thank you, Lord, for our freedom, so selflessly fought for, so valiantly won.

Mama, the Dreamer

Don: "Don't stand on the dog."

Daelyn: "I'm not. I'm rubbing his ear with my foot."

Donovan is looking quite shaggy again. When we bought him from the breeder, we understood that he would need stripping twice a year, every six months, to keep him looking pretty. HA! He needs stripping about every two months, and it takes about two months to complete his stripping.

Last night I pulled him up on the couch next to me and began pulling out the long hairs on his face. I cleared a very nice spot on the left side, which is extraordinarily soft. His overcoat is always rough and thick and his undercoat is soft and fuzzy. While we're in the stripping stage, we love to rub and pet the parts that have already been stripped. I grabbed Donovan and pulled him into my lap on the couch this morning to kiss his little soft left-side of his mohawk. He's not stupid and was sure he was in for another round, fighting me to get off the couch. I was disappointed I couldn't seem to secure any affection, so I grabbed Daelyn next. I wrapped my arms around him, then pivoted my hips, pulling him over me and around to my other side as I reclined.

Daelyn laughed. "That was unexpected," he said.

Yep. I'm quite the unexpected Mom - to everyone except Donovan.

While Daelyn and I were snuggling, Don was sitting at the computer. I asked him if he'd help me open a drawer on the bureau that's stuck before he left this morning. Someone had pushed it past the stopping point and now it's impossibly wedged.

"Daddy can do ANYTHING," Daelyn explained to me. "He's an electrical engineer."

I wondered if there was ever a time in my children's eyes that Mommy could do anything. If there was, I don't remember it. But at least Daddy still holds that position in one of our children's eyes.

This and That

I feel like I've dropped off the face of the earth. We've been having a wonderful time, but we're also busy. I haven't even thought about my Blog.

We're going back to West Virginia next week. The children don't feel like they've had enough time with their grandparents . . . neither do I, so we're going for about 5 days before we leave Dane for his week. Don can't go with us, but the children and I are looking forward to some rest and peace.

We've done a lot of crafts. If Dane has a free moment, I find him crafting. For Deanna, it's reading. Daelyn has enjoyed having unlimited time to play with his cars and legos.

We were looking over the school supplies list for the Elementary the other day. Dane is going into 4th grade and he'll begin to use pens this year, so he has to have erasable pens.

Dane: "I've never heard of such a thing. I didn't know there WERE erasable pens."

Me: "Yep! But they don't work very well."

Deanna: "The pens work great. The erasers just don't work very well."

Daelyn: "I'd LOVE to see an 'invincible pen'."

What's the name of that game?

We stopped at a Cracker Barrel for lunch on our way home from West Virginia. We all love Cracker Barrel's food and the boys think the decor is cool. As soon as we sat down, Dane asked if he could go play checkers.

"You need to order FIRST," I told him, shoving a menu in front of him.

Daelyn: "What's that thing we always have? I'll have that."

Me: "Which thing we always have? Hash brown casserole?"

Daelyn: "No. That round thing."

Me: "Waffle?"

Daelyn: "Yeah! I want a waffle."

Don and I simultaneously glanced at our menus. No waffles. Only pancakes. We prompted Daelyn again and asked if he wanted pecan or plain pancakes. After getting a hard-fought answer, we turned our attention to Dane again.

"What do you want to eat," I asked him.

"Can I go play checkers?"

I sighed. Some days, I'm not sure we speak the same language as our children.

"You have to order FIRST," I explained again. "What would you like to eat?"

"Egg and bacon," he responded. All these luscious foods and he wants the same thing I make him at home.

"Do you want a biscuit with it?" Dane nodded affirmatively and I released him and Daelyn to go play on the checkerboard in front of the now-empty fireplace.

Don and I were looking over our menus and discussing whether to order breakfast or lunch when Daelyn returned looking upset.

"Daddy, I need to ask you a question privately."

"Ask me here, son. Just say it out."

"It's about chest. I need to know if I can do something in chest. Aren't you a chest expert?"

Don's eyes began to sparkle and he grinned.

"Nope," he said. "Ask Mommy. She's the chest expert."

"I may be the chest expert," I told Daelyn, "but you're not playing 'chest'. You're playing checkers, and Daddy's the checkers expert."

I grinned back at Don and caught him casually glancing at my 'chest'. Eyes up, my darling. The boys are playing checkers.

Scheduling

We went to visit my in-law's in West Virginia this weekend. We always have a wonderful time there. They spoil the children and Don and I and it's very relaxed and restful.

Don hadn't seen his parents in quite some time. While I'm very committed to taking my children to see their grandparents, it's often while Don is working and can't get away. I begged him to make some time this summer to visit them.

We left Deanna behind. She'll be spending this week alone with her grandparents. We left around 7:30 yesterday morning for our homeward trek and walked through our kitchen door a little after 6 p.m. We hadn't been home 5 minutes when the phone began to ring. It was Deanna.

"Hi, Mom," she said, very perky. "Uh, oh," I thought. She was really struggling the night before we left and Don and I both spent time alone with her. While she loves being with her grandparents and really looks forward to it every summer, she's also a homebody and doesn't like being away from me and her daddy.

"Hi, sweetie. You almost missed us. We JUST got home. Is everything alright?"

"Yep. I just wanted to call and say hi." I was still afraid there was some problem that was being masked by cheerfulness, so I prompted her a little.

"What'd you do today, sweetie?"

"Oh, Grandma and I went to Crafts 2000 (an awesome crafts outlet store that we went to on Sunday afternoon - all of us, the whole family), I worked on . . . "

She went on and on and on and on about all they had done in one short day. She and Grandma had done this, she and Grandpa had done that. "Oh, and, by the way, the book that Grandpa wrote that has our pictures in it arrived today and I got to see the whole book. It was awesome . . . " on and on.

"I asked Grandma if I'm talking more this time and she said, 'You sure are. Did your mother talk to you?'" Deanna goes ever summer and never speaks to her grandparents. They are naturally quiet people and if YOU don't initiate a conversation, there likely won't be any. I've been trying to teach Deanna for several years how to relate to her quiet grandparents. It seems this year she's finally secure enough to talk to them and is REALLY enjoying herself. She's probably talking their ears off, but she feels like she's getting to know them better and I'm quite certain they're getting to know her better.

"Honey, Daelyn's crying. Something's happened and I need to go. Can we call you back after the van is unpacked so Daddy can talk to you?"

"Well, I called early because I'm planning on watching a movie from 7 to 9. Grandma and I looked it up in the tv schedule and she said I could stay up to watch it, so I'm trying to get everything done before 7:00 so there's no interruptions."

It finally cut through my fog. She wasn't lonely. She didn't even really need to talk to me. She's having a wonderful time. But she knew I'd call to tell her goodnight and want to hear all about her day, so she pre-empted me so she wouldn't be disturbed during her "planned evening". My heart jumped a little when I realized my little girl is growing up. She's more secure than she's ever been, having a great time away from home, making sure she meets her commitment to me while scheduling her time to optimize her fun. I giggled a little thinking about it.

"I guess I could run and take my shower now so I'll be done in time to talk to Daddy before my movie starts," she said. It seemed a very clear directive to me. Hang up now, Mom, and have Daddy call prior to 7, please.

We'd hate to interrupt her movie.

Last Weekend

Last Saturday was Dane's 9th birthday. He hasn't had a party with his friends since he was 4, so we decided it was time to throw "the big one". It seems we're always on vacation or at Grandma and Grandpa's when his birthday rolls around and it just gets a minor nod from the family.

We invited, secretly, all the boys in Dane's class to a surprise party the day before. We all gathered at a warehouse that rents out inflatables and has several operating all day in their warehouse. For a flat price per child, they could jump to their heart's content for two hours, which they did. I packed along a cooler with chilled drinks for the hot and sweaty jumpers. Then I loaded them all up in a borrowed van (all 13 of them) and took them back to our yard where Don met us. We had put the awning up the previous evening and moved the deck table underneath it, finding some lame excuse for Dane, which he willingly accepted. Don had Papa John's pizza for everyone and we ate, then had cake and ice cream and opened presents.

Dane was thrilled and all the boys seemed to have fun. It's a birthday he won't soon forget.

On Saturday, his actual birthday, we went to Six Flags as a family. The children all had free tickets because of a fund-raiser in which they participated during the year, and Don and I managed to get discounted tickets. We rode rides, changed into bathing suits and played in the water park, then rode more rides until the park closed. We stopped at the nearest fast food restaurant to the Park on the way home for dinner and the children changed into pajamas and were sound asleep in minutes. We got home around 1:30 a.m., just in time to begin celebrating Father's Day.

It really was a great time. We felt so blessed. We all were in agreement about what rides we wanted to try and stayed together the whole day, moving from one fun activity to the next, satisfying everyone's sense of adventure. Daelyn got to drive his own bumper car, which made his day, and Dane and Deanna got to try out some fun roller coasters, not to mention the awesome slides at the Water Park. No one got sunburned, we were having too much fun to stop and eat, but we took the time to split a funnel cake and savor the moment (and the powdered sugar).

Traveling with Don just gets better the longer we're married. And the children really seem to want to meet each other's needs. As with the rest of our summer, it just felt magical.

On the way home, fighting the construction on the highway in Augusta, Don missed our turn-off and, in an attempt to double back, ended WAY off course. Deanna woke up and asked where we were. We tried to explain but she finally got the picture and began to laugh. I looked over at Don and, even in the darkness, I could see his eyes twinkle.

"So, honey, do you think you'll be able to find our driveway," I kidded.

"I'm not sure," he responded. "I may need to drive around the block a few times."

If I ever, momentarily, forget why I married this man, days like this bring it all back. Not only did he give me these wonderful children, whom I love to be with, but I can't imagine anyone else in the world with whom I'd rather grow old.

I'm not sure it felt much like Father's Day on Sunday, but Saturday felt a lot like Mother's Day.

Dropping Like Flies

It's been an interesting week. Deanna's doing volleyball camp each afternoon, then we leave by 5:30 for Vacation Bible School. I've been working in Crafts and am having a wonderful time. This is, by far, the best fit I've yet found in the VBS World. I'm doing detail work with the children, setting up, and cleaning up, basically organizing. No discipline is necessary, no herding, and no losing my temper and having to try and figure out how to deal with another person's child that's not being raised the way I raise mine.

Sunday night we made lab coats from pillow cases. Monday night, we did Shrinky Dinks of all the characters we're meeting in our VBS. Deanna helped with the skit on Monday, so I brought a sheet of Shrinky Dinks home for her and one for me. We spend part of the day on Tuesday doing that.

Dane began complaining on Monday of his throat hurting. No redness, but by Tuesday morning, he was running a low-grade fever, which has continued. No VBS for him, and I've had to make other arrangements. He has an appointment with the Pediatrician this morning for a strept test - sore throat, nausea, fever . . . classic symptoms. But his throat still isn't red. We'll see what the doctor says, but I wanted to get him checked out before we leave this weekend to take Deanna to her grandparents for the week.

Around 5 p.m. yesterday, I was on the phone with the doctor's office scheduling Dane's appointment for today when he walked in with Daelyn and tried to get my attention. I had him wait until I got off the phone, then responded,

"What do you need, son?"

"Mama, Daelyn's having an allergic reaction," he said, and showed me the inside of Daelyn's elbow where there was a small cluster of bug bites.

"They're just bug bites, hon. They look so red because Daelyn's been scratching them," I explained to the patient older brother.

"But they're on the back of his arm, too," he added. I snatched Daelyn's arm, turned it over, and . . . sure enough. Red bumps going all the way up his arm, but concentrated at the elbow.

I pulled out the Benadryl Gel I had just picked up at Wal-Mart this week and began to rub it on the spots. Since they extended under the sleeve of his shirt, I suggested he remove his shirt, which he did.

Welts. All over his chest and back. And both arms were covered, not just the one I was looking at. I got a little panicy. I gave him a quick dose of liquid Benadryl, then called for Deanna.

"Take Daelyn up to Grandma's, please," I asked. I was in the middle of making dinner in the Fry Daddy and couldn't leave, but Grandma always knows what to do.

Daelyn slept well last night, and the welts on his torso are gone, but his arms still look bad. I have no idea what he got into, but there was no VBS for anyone last night.

Let's hope Deanna stays healthy.

Like Minds

Don and I have been thinking about moving. We've looked at a house that's for sale just a couple of blocks away several times and I'm very interested. Don, however, isn't. He can't really express to me why not. I think it just must not be the right timing for him.

Although we love our house, especially after gutting, redesigning, and adding on, we've never liked the location. We are on a very busy road and can't allow the chidren in the front yard. Three or four times since I've lived in this house people have driven through our front yard. We have crepe myrtle trees (3) on the easement between the sidewalk and the street and they've been taken out twice, once on purpose by some twisted individual who spent their evenings driving through yards in our neighborhood. Another time, a woman went into diabetic shock while driving and plowed through our front yard and my neighbors, only coming to a halt when she hit a Stop sign. We live just south of a dangerous curve and drivers seem to lose control coming out of the curve and end up in yards further up the street or ours, mostly on the weekends, and often late at night with the involvement of alcohol.

Anyway, over the years we've looked at several different homes near ours and none have interested us. This one, however, really grabbed my attention and the children fell in love with it. The owners want far too much, WAY more than the appraised value, and the amount I wanted to offer was about half of their asking price but fairly close to the appraised value. Don finally said no and we've laid that down. Until the other day.

Don and I were talking about possible other options. I had heard through the grapevine that the house which held my interest may have been purchased by a family we know and I mentioned it to Don. But I had driven by and there was no sign up indicating it was under contract.

"Maybe it didn't sell and, if it sits there long enough, maybe the owners will become more realistic about the price and we can think about it again," my husband dropped on me like a bombshell.

"Does this mean you might be interested if the price was lower?" I quizzed him, shocked that it might still be a possibility.

"We'll see. But price point was definitely a problem for me," he responded.

The next morning, I told the children at breakfast about the conversation with their daddy the night before.

"Who knows?" I told them. "Maybe the price will come down and then we can talk turkey."

"Instead of talking trash?" Daelyn asked.

That boy thinks far too much like his father.

Mercy Drops

Ah, I love the summer - pool visits, matinees, beach trips, lazy crafts afternoons.

Today, the children and I got our chores done early, then headed to the 10 a.m. free matinee at the local theater. We had a wonderful time and saw a movie we've never seen, then used free kid's meal coupons that they received for memorizing their monthly scriptures the entire school year and had lunch at Chick-fil-A before hitting the semi-annual Bath and Body Works sale.

We got home, changed clothes, and scooted over to a friend's house to enjoy her pool. Tons of my friends were there and the children had classmates to enjoy. It was glorious.

We headed home and, while I fired up the gas grill so I could cook our Bratwurst, they ran and took baths and showers (without being told, I might add). Then Daelyn set the table and Dane walked the dog. Dinner was ready just about the time Don made an appearance from work.

Last night, after our peaceful evening, I read quietly to Daelyn while Dane looked on. Tonight, however, Daelyn said he didn't feel like a book. Instead, he and Dane are sitting on the loveseat doing something - together - with no fussing, fighting or arguing.

The movie we saw today was "Evan Almighty". There was one objectionable scene (the main character's young son is telling his father about the genitalia of some type of duck and, as a friend mentioned to me at the pool, just in case you miss it the first time, they repeat it later) which was totally unnecessary, but, other than that, it was a wonderful movie. One of my favorite parts was when Evan's wife has taken the children and left her husband, thinking he's out of his mind. She stops at a Diner to eat and a news report about her husband is playing on the T.V. She hangs her head in shame when the waiter, whose nametag says "Al Mighty" and who is the actor who plays God in the movie, sits down next to her and encourages her to tell him her troubles.

He says, "What do you think happens when you pray for your family to get closer? Do you think God just magically makes it happen? Or does he give you situations in your life that force you to need each other, to depend on each other?" Obviously, this is paraphrased, because I don't remember his exact words, but it's very nearly what I just said. She goes back to her husband and the family does draw closer, as she prayed in the beginning of the movie.

I feel like that's what's happening to us this summer. Although we're only 1 1/2 weeks into our summer vacation, I feel more in love with my children, the house is getting put in order, and they're getting along better then they ever have. Maybe it's necessity or maybe they actually have less free time because we're staying very active. In any case, they're enjoying each other and I'm enjoying them, and the days are clicking by at a peaceful, I-don't-want-this-to-ever-end pace.

At the pool today, there was some thunder and soft rain fell lightly for a few minutes. Most of us drug our children out of the pool just to be careful, but I couldn't help but think how much it reminds me of God's drops of mercy. This Blog is entitled "Mercy Drops Falling" because I so often feel his mercy falling on me, like that soft rain from Heaven.

I hope his mercy will continue to fall all summer. That kind of rain is the best I can hope for.

Travels

We had a wonderful time at Hilton Head yesterday. We went to the pool during the heat of the day (it was partially shaded), then had a big lunch including boiled shrimp. We planned to head to the beach late afternoon and into the evening.

Low tide was around 4 p.m. The beach was practically empty as families headed home to eat. The sun was beginning to dip and a nice breeze made the heat quite palatable. We put my friends' baby on the edge of a tidal pool so he could splash around in the water, set up chairs, and watched the children as they ran in the surf, trying to catch a good ride on their boogy boards. It was so nice, we chose to stay very late - until 7:30. About 6:30, the waves picked up and the children were really enjoying themselves. We finally drug them out of the water and headed back to Kelly's condo for showers, a quick sandwich dinner, and to pack up.

We got home right at midnight. I told Don to leave everything in the van until morning - no need to waste valuable sleep time unloading, and there was nothing that couldn't keep until morning. As Don took the puppy out to tinkle and I herded children through medicines and towards bed, I noticed several messages on the answering machine.

One was a neighbor whose house is actually behind my parents.

"Patti," she said, "we've found your turtle. He showed up at our house. I don't know if you'll be able to catch us before we leave, but he's here."

I was thrilled. I don't plan on dragging Turtle-y back to his gardenia house, but I knew his hatching grounds had to be somewhere close by since he was first found by my parents and I was hoping someone would call and report his whereabouts.

Someone has. Thank you, Heather. While we were traveling yesterday, so was our little turtle.

...Do!

About two weeks before the end of school, Dane asked me to cut his hair. It had gotten quite long and was unruly. It took me a couple of days to pull out the clippers, but I gave him a nice, boy cut. Daelyn refused a haircut and since his hair wasn't quite as sloppy and long, I decided to let him slide. We've been so busy having fun (and doing chores) this week that his hair hasn't been touched.

Today, we're going to the beach for the day. Some close friends are there this whole week so we're going down to visit. Dane and Daelyn both have friends in the family we're visiting and Deanna is taking a friend with her. The kids have been very excited about their first beach trip this summer.

I packed the van last night, then set my alarm for 6:40, the time I rise during the school year. Don is a much earlier riser and is gone for work by about 5:30.

Before my alarm sounded this morning, I heard the back door open (the kitchen is next to our bedroom) and excited voices at the van. The boys were obviously up and rearing to go. I took off my breathing mask, flipped off the alarm, and jumped out of bed.

"I'll finish packing the coolers first," I told myself, and headed for the kitchen. As I pulled Gatorade and water bottles out of the freezers and began loading them in coolers, Daelyn ran up to me.

"Good morning, Mommy!" he practically shouted. I glanced at him. He had hair horns poking out both sides of his head. Apparently, he had slept quite soundly and his hair this morning proved it.

As if in response to my thoughts and quite pleased with himself, Daelyn announced, "I went to bed last night, woke up this morning, and I had this hair-do!"

Days Gone By

I realize I'm risking sounding a little wacko, but I'm plunging ahead, anyway.

About two weeks ago, I was craving a Cola Icee. You know, like the ones we used to scarf up when we were children. They always had several flavors, but Cola was my favorite. You'd suck until the straw was empty and there was a little hole in your Icee all the way down to the bottom of the cup. Then you'd have to move your straw and repeat this exercise over and over. Eventually, the Icee would be sloshy enough that you could shake the cup and the holes would all fill in. I didn't think my daughter had ever had an Icee and I wanted desperately to introduce her to this childhood activity.

We drove well out of our way to stop at a convenience store, after trying all the ones ON our way. I finally couldn't justify using anymore gas and none of the stores we patronized carried old-fashioned Icee's.

Yesterday, as I was checking out at the Wholesale Club, I realized that I was very thirsty and assumed the children were, also. I glanced up at the little snack bar area and saw a sign,"Icee - $1.09 SMALL, $1.39 MEDIUM, $1.79 LARGE. I gave Deanna a $5 bill and sent her and the boys to get a drink. They met me just as I finished paying and was pushing the buggy towards the door.

"What'd you get?" I asked.

"Icee's, Mom," Deanna nearly shouted at me. I smiled, thrilled that they were all getting to try this treat.

"What flavor?" I asked each child in turn.

"Cola", "Cola", "Cola", they all chimed. Their Icee cups were huge and, just as I reached for mine, I realized I hadn't asked Deanna to get one for me. All three of the children had Cola Icees and there was none for me. Deanna noticed the look on my face.

"What's wrong?" she asked. She's such a kind, sensitive person. I explained that I had forgotten to have her get one for me.

"I'll go back and get in line and get you one," she said. But the line had suddenly gotten long and we needed to get on our way. The kids hadn't yet had lunch and it was almost 2:00.

"No, honey, it'll be okay," I responded. She quickly offered me a sip of hers. Heaven. I had forgotten how perfectly cold a Cola Icee is.

Each child gave me a sip (one very grudgingly, who had to be reminded whose money paid for the Icee's) and that was enough to tide me over. I watched as they each took large slurps and smiled at the many memories those slurps held for me.

We loaded the groceries in the van and headed out of the parking lot. It was quiet except for the sound of sucking when Dane commented,

"Hey, look, everybody, there's a hole in my drink all the way down to the bottom of the cup."

God-update

On the way home from yesterday's matinee, we passed Daelyn's godparent's house (I told you, it's right on the main road home from ALMOST anywhere).

Daelyn: "There's my god-mommy's house, and my god-daddy's house, and my god-doggie's house. Essentially (I didn't know he even knew this word), Mommy, that's my god-house."

And, an update on chores. Deanna has decided to stricken the word "bored" from her vocabulary. She has vehemently expressed to me that she will NEVER AGAIN use that word.

Life is so fun and interesting, after all.

Dane's take on Movie Ratings

"Mr. Bean's Holiday" is playing at the Children's Free Film Festival today. In trying to decide whether or not to give it a go, we looked it up on pluggedinonline.com, a website recommended by Focus on the Family.

The website gave a glowing report. Under the heading, "Sexual Content", it said a prom-style, off-the-shoulder dress worn by a French actress was the worst of it. For violence, a young boy slaps Bean across the face in anger, which later becomes their method of greeting and is used several times. Negative aspects include Bean "stealing" a bicycle and a decrepid scooter. It seems that the worst of the movie is the fact that this stranger attempts to help a young boy, something we find shocking in today's world.

Deanna was reading the review over my shoulder and asked, "What's it rated?"

"G," I responded.

Dane, over my other shoulder: "G? What does that mean? Goofy?"

Moving On

It appears Turtle-y really is gone. But I did a little research on him prior to his departure.

Turtle-y is a male Eastern Box Turtle which, interestingly, is the state reptile of North Carolina. They typically live for 25 to 30 years but there have been plenty of documented cases of them living 50 years.

My research also indicated that they have a strong homing instinct that compels them to return to the area from which they were hatched. After reading this, I was a little surprised that he had stuck around as long as he did.

When telling my father about the lifespan and homing instinct, he suggested I take some spray paint or nail polish and put our phone number on his back. Late that night, I drug Turtle-y out of his sleeping area and, using my silver Sharpie, put his name, our phone number, and family name on his shell. I didn't realize that his shell wasn't solid. It had breaks like cracks in a sidewalk where each panel ended, so it might be a little difficult to read, thus our family name. Then I gently replaced him in his burrowed bed and went to bed myself. The next morning, he was gone.

Perhaps he was rebelling against being woken during the night. Or maybe he was angry with me painting up his shell and decided to teach me a less0n. But maybe, just maybe, that homing instinct kicked in and he headed for parts unknown.

I'm not depressed this time. I am very hopeful that he's gone in search of a female for courting and one day one of Turtle-y's offspring will show up in the yard. Also, my research convinced me all-the-more that Turtle-y needed to be free. Below is a quote from the website I found that explains the problem with keeping an Eastern Box Turtle captive.

"Although box turtles are still fairly common over much of their range, their future is uncertain. Box turtles are slow growing, have few young, and have exhibited delayed sexual maturity. These qualities make them particularly susceptible to damage due to human activities. Another concern is the capture of box turtles for the pet trade. The impact of taking turtles from the wild can be devastating to local populations. When box turtles that have been taken as pets are returned to the wild, they will head straight for their natal grounds. This journey causes the turtles to encounter many dangers, such as roads, predators, and humans. For these reasons, if you are looking for a pet, you should try to find a captive-bred animal or consider a different pet."

Turtle-y, wherever you are, we love you and would welcome you back at any time. But live and make babies, and keep Eastern Box Turtles from becoming extinct, my little friend.

The gardenias will always be waiting for you.

Groaning

I'm getting a little flack from the 11-year old female in our house about my plan for the summer.

Each morning, the children must do their routine chores, then we tackle some other job. Yesterday, it was cleaning off the microwave stand and all the children's school refuse as well as cleaning out the boys' closet while Deanna worked on her bedroom. Today we tackled cleaning their mirrored closet doors, the inside and out of the storm door, all mirrors, and the windows.

The boys pleasantly worked, knowing that good things await those who work hard. They ooh-ed and aah-ed at how much better their closet doors looked and seemed to really enjoy the cleaning chores. The little girl, however, fought me tooth and nail.

Later, while at Pizza Hut (the good thing that awaited them), I explained to her what the boys already understood but she seemed to have missed - my plan for putting order into the house. She made some caustic remark that only teenagers seem to be able to think up.

When we got home from a busy day (dentist's appointment, shopping at a Wholesale Club where we ran into HER godparents, lunch at Pizza Hut, then some fun errands), it was close to 4:00. The boys ran out to play, but she asked to watch TV, which I allowed and, later, to play on the computer, which I also allowed, while I tore apart my Crafts Room to reorganize it. While saying the blessing at dinner shortly after 6:00 (please note that we're talking only two hours after she began watching TV and playing on the computer), she asked the Lord to bless our summer since she was "bored out of our heads today."

She won't be bored tomorrow. I'm planning on spending this evening thinking up about 60 deep cleaning tasks for her to tackle tomorrow to keep her from being bored.

There are some things you just don't say to a Mom - especially not on only the second day of summer.

The Whole God-family

Driving home from the pool today, we passed Daelyn's godparent's house, which is near ours but on a main road.

"Who lives in that house back there on the hill?" he asked coyly.

"You know darn well who lives in that house, Daelyn," I responded. "It's your God-mama's house."

"My God-mama AND my God-daddy." A moment's pause. "And my God-doggies."

The First of Many Days

School's out and it's time to position ourselves for a long summer.

I dug through the pantry and candy jar this morning and got out all the little bits and pieces of stuff (1/2 bag of mini Oreo's, 1/3 bag of pretzel sticks, some crunched up granola bars, 3 bags of assorted jelly beans and jelly bellies, some left-over sour Skittles, chips, cheese crackers, . . . ) that we have left over from school lunches. I grabbed my big, metal mixing bowl, dumped bag after bag of "stuff" into it, mixed it gently, then dumped it into a Jumbo Ziplic bag.

Voila! Sweet, salty, cheesy and sour snack mix for the summer months and a much cleaner, neater pantry and candy jar, to boot.

While cleaning out the boys' room last week, I used two large decorative bins I purchased at Wal-Mart to use under the bottom bunkbed for sorting toys which, unfortunately, didn't fit when I got them home from the store, to pack away items that we wanted to keep but was unruly in the boys' closet. One whole bin is full of foam shapes and projects. The other has other crafts items that I've purchased over the years for the kids. I've probably invested $200 in crafts stuff for my children.

For some reason, I couldn't get an idea out of my mind last night. I even dreamed about it. We have a foamie blue cross that we bought a couple of years ago for Dane to decorate and give to Grandpa as a Christmas present, but nothing ever became of it. Neither Dane nor I had a vision for the blue cross. Then, I saw a brochure at Michael's with foamie faux stained-glass. We already had EVERYTHING we needed, so I described it to Dane this morning. We got out the cross and all the foam shapes and he designed a beautiful stained-glass cross for Grandpa. If we get some puffy paint from the Craft's Store, coat the cross in it, then insert the foamie pieces per his design, it'll look like the black metal that goes around the edges of stained-glass pieces. We just have to get to the store now and get the puff paint.

Yep! We're off to a great start. Cleaning and crafting, getting ready for Christmas.

I love summer.

Zesty!

If you haven't yet tried Pringles Extreme blazin' buffalo wings potato chips, you're missing out. Just have a glass of milk close by when you take the plunge.

Says Deanna the other day while looking at the assortment of cans of Pringles in the pantry: "Wow! Dad did really good. He got all our favorites."

Me: "Glad you're giving Daddy credit, but I bought the Pringles."

They were 5 cans for $3 or something. A great deal.

Summer Plans

Tomorrow is the last day of school. Last year, the final week of school was so chaotic that I decided to make myself a list this year to help prepare for each day. It went something like this:

Monday: Deanna - last PE, school uniform, bring PE clothes, change of clothes, watergun, beach towel, regular lunch. Dane - pool party, wear bathing suit and t-shirt with sensible shoes to walk to the pool, beach towel, change of clothes, 2-ltr. root beer, water bottle, picnic lunch. Daelyn: uniform, regular lunch.

Tuesday: Deanna - school uniform, regular lunch. Dane - school uniform, regular lunch. Daelyn - last PE, wear PE clothes and water shoes, take change of clothes, watergun, beach towel, and regular lunch.

Wednesday: Deanna - school uniform, regular lunch. Dane - last PE, school uniform, bring PE clothes, change of clothes, watergun, beach towel, regular lunch. Daelyn - end-of-year party, wear bathing suit and t-shirt with water shoes, beach towel, change of clothes, water bottle.

And so forth.

Between last PE's (with slip-and-slides and watergun fights), end-of-year parties, field trips (Dane's on one today), and the outdoor cook-out the 8th grade is sponsoring today for lunch, it's all a little overwhelming. Last year, I only had two children in school, but the list helped this year tremendously. Tomorrow, they get out at 11:50 (11:45 for the Kindergarteners so their parents can pick them up before mass pandemonium) and Don and I will take the kids out to lunch to celebrate the beginning of summer.

I decided I couldn't handle another summer like last year. We had way too many trips planned almost back-to-back, and the summer was more exhausting than the school year. This summer, we're going to take it slower, go out to the Lake some, spend a lot of time with friends, and try and spend one day each week doing school work. Deanna has a summer reading list and Daelyn has 1st. grade preparation work, so we'll throw some in for Dane and have a weekly school session. Perhaps we can also devote one day a week to crafts.

In any case, I can't wait until the children are home all day. Last night at dinner, Deanna prayed that they would all get along well this summer and not fight. Amen to that. She'll go to her grandparents for a week, as will Dane, giving them some time to themselves without their siblings around. And we'll spend a week at the beach and a week in Vacation Bible School.

I have some goals this summer, most of them geared towards projects on the house and building relationships between my children and their classmates. Early preparations for Christmas and trying to sell some of Deanna's jewelry and my soaps are also on the burners.

But, mostly, I want to be a family and build our relationships with each other. I want to spend time with each child doing the things they love to do - maybe taking Dane to a professional baseball game and going horseback riding with Deanna. I hope we can manage to not lose our focus. It wouldn't hurt to become more disciplined and for the children to start to take on more cleaning and cooking chores. The summer is a good time for teaching.

But, most of all, I hope we can spend this summer honoring the Lord in all we do. And focus on the most important task of all - loving each other.

Come on, summer. We have high expectations for you.

Brain Damage

After almost 13 years of marriage, I'm beginning to rub off on Don, poor man.

I explained to him when I was pregnant with Deanna that pregnancy hormone (beta hCG, for those of you who know) kills brain cells. For some reason, when you're pregnant, you forget major things, like to turn the water off in the sink after brushing your teeth and before leaving the room and closing the driver's door on the car after exiting it. Don would just shake his head at me.

And the memory loss isn't limited to while you're pregnant. This morning, Deanna asked me if she could leave her hair down for school or if she had to put it up. I know she gets tired of "doing her hair" every single day, but that's what happens when you have long hair.

"Honey, I know it's easier to leave it down, but it's really hot, and if you leave it down, it's just gonna get in your hair."

Long pause. "Mom," she started, hesitatingly, "it IS my hair."

I stopped slathering mustard on the sandwich I was making, thought for a minute, then began to laugh. The boys had paused with their forks halfway to their mouths, unsure if this was funny or if Mom was just losing it. Perhaps I understood something that they were too young to get and my sentence made perfect sense. My laughter convinced them that, yes, Mom was losing it.

A couple of years ago, I purchased plastic boxes to put under the Parson's bench in the mudroom for the children's shoes, since they always seemed to end up in that general vicinity. I used a Sharpie and put each child's name on their box, then informed them that any shoes left in the kitchen area had to go in their box.

They seldom make it into the boxes, so I've started charging Dane $.50 everytime I find a pair of shoes out of the box or his closet. He has to pay me $.25 for his bookbag if I find it anywhere but on its hook. Deanna's pretty good about her shoes. Unless they're wet and she leaves them in her box to dry, she puts her shoes in her bedroom. Daelyn leaves his everywhere. I'll have to clamp down on him next, but right now Dane's the one in intensive training.

So, Sunday, we're all sitting around the kitchen table eating lunch after church. Don was commenting about the children's seeming inability to pick up behind themselves.

Says Don, "You don't even seem to be able to manage to puttin' your shoes in the box Mommy bought for you."

"Puttin'?" says I, with one eyebrow raised. Deanna choked and came dangerously close to nose-squirting. The boys cracked up. Don, who NEVER laughs outloud, threw his head back and opened his mouth as if to let loose with a whopper. Instead, he silently laughed, which tickled us all the more. He was really laughing - not with sound, but with his body positioning and his mouth. Finally, he regained his composure, looked over at me, and shook his head.

"See," I told him, "I'm rubbing off on you. That's the kind of thing I'd say."

At least we provide cheap entertainment for our children.

Insignificant

Over the last two days, I've sat at the computer several times to write and . . . nothing.

Where are all the cute little things Daelyn usually says. Where are all the funny stories about Deanna? What's happened to all of Dane's interesting escapades? Not even a scrap about Donovan sprung to mind!

You see, Turtle-y went away. Several times a day, I check under the gardenias. No turtle. I even crawled under the deck yesterday, in hopes that I might find him there. Nope. He definitely left home.

He's a turtle! How attached can you get to a carnivorous, walking shell?

Apparently, very. I guess my mothering instincts have not yet been exhausted with only 3 children, so they've turned them on Donovan and, now, a little green turtle with yellow spots on his head and a large lump on the right side of his neck.

I missed him terribly and worried myself sick. I just couldn't understand where he could be. He doesn't really move very fast. Did we do something wrong? Was there a need of his that we failed to meet? Was he thirsty and out looking for water? Didn't I serve up enough raw hamburger for his taste? Don said he was probably hungry and I hadn't fed him enough. Just how much do turtles eat? Maybe he needed more variety. The scrambled eggs I threw in occasionally just didn't do the trick.

Don told me I should have caught some flies and fed them to him. I drew the line at flies. There are some things a human mother JUST DOESN'T DO - even me. And I highly suspected Don's comments were tongue-in-cheek.

In all honesty, as pitiful as this all sounds, I really did think all these thoughts. He seemed so happy and always returned home from his daily excursions until, suddenly, he just disappeared. It occurred to me late yesterday that maybe he had gone back to Grandma's house. Dane found that suggestion very interesting.

For days now, I've been mooning around the house, avoiding posting to my Blog, and looking out across the lawns, hoping to see a green spot moving. Deanna was shocked by my level of disappointment. She kept saying, "Mom, he's just a turtle. He's a wild animal!" Maybe she'll begin to understand a little bit about how, by comparison, I love her, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone. She's a very perceptive child and she's paid attention to my reactions to this situation. How much more must I love their daddy and them when I'm struggling over the loss of a little turtle that's only been hanging around for 2 weeks.

I was making the children's lunches this morning and doing Deanna's practice spelling test while the children ate breakfast and Don put on his tennis shoes, when there was a knock on the kitchen door.

"I'm in my pajamas," I yelled to Don. "Somebody else answer the door." I ran around the corner into the dining room where I could listen to the conversation with the neighbor.

I heard our next door neighbor tells the boys, "There's a turtle over in our yard. Would you like him?"

"TURTLE-Y," I shrieked and ran back into the kitchen. Deanna's eyes got big around - not with surprise that we may have found our turtle, but that I ran into the kitchen in my pajamas. The boys were just running out the back door, heading for the neighbor's yard. I sat down on the bench, facing the window, and watched as our neighbor led them around to the front of his house. They were gone a long time, but Dane finally reappeared carrying OUR LITTLE TURTLE. He looked up at the windows, caught sight of me, and grinned.

"It's Turtle-y, Mom," he yelled. I smiled back, then opened the window and yelled to him,

"Put him back under the gardenias and give him some water. I'll cut up some hamburger meat."

When Dane came inside, he told me that Turtle-y was next to their garden hose. Dane thinks he was looking for his water pan and couldn't find it. We're all convinced that he got lost and was trying to find his way home, but wasn't sure where we were. I don't think turtles have a very good homing instinct.

Dane filled up his water pan and Turtle-y immediately ran to it, stuck his head out, and had a very long drink. I began slicing thin pieces off the frozen 3lb. block of hamburger meat and putting them on a plate, which I delivered to our Prodigal. He was just finishing his drink and began his feast while we all watched. I was very happy to see him home again, needless to say.

He must be a male, because it occurred to me that he's going to break my heart over and over again. I'm sure he will disappear many more times, and at some point, won't reappear. And I'll be sad . . . for a while. But I'll get over it. After all, he is a wild animal.

For now, though, he's home. And his little gardenia house seems full of life again.

Not a Bad Place to Be

I guess today is a day for updates. Eventually, I'll get some new material and get off the same stale old topics.

I wrote about Turtle-y a few days ago. He escaped on Saturday but reappeared again before dark that evening. We've continued to feed and water him under the gardenias.

Yesterday, after talking with my Mom while driving to my sister's, I suggested to the children that we move him from under the gardenias to under the deck. We thought it'd be cooler there for him and he could wander out into the grass, if he wanted. So, after school, Dane and I moved his water pan, refilled it, and move Turtle-y. Later, we checked on him under the deck, but he was nowhere to be found. I thought for sure he had left home.

Deanna wanted to play in the hose, it was so warm out, so I agreed. She and Daelyn donned their bathing suits and headed out to the backyard. I heard Deanna shriek from the faucet.

"Turtle-y, I almost stepped on you! What are you doing over here?" I ran to look and there he was, on the cement next to the faucet.

Dane and I discussed whether or not to return him to his spot under the deck. We decided to leave him alone, thinking that perhaps he was exploring his new surroundings.

After dinner, I couldn't stand it any longer. I went looking for him. On a hunch, I checked the gardenia garden. Sure enough, he was under the gardenias, dug into the cool dirt below the pine bark mulch.

This morning, I encouraged Dane to put his water pan back under the gardenias. Apparently, he's chosen a home, to which he returns after field trips, and he needs his water nearby. Dane moved it back and filled it for our new little pet.

I helped out at the school this morning then stopped to check on the little guy after pulling into the driveway at home. He was sitting in the middle of his water pan, enjoying the coolness.

Yep, we've got a new pet. Perhaps we ought to think through a more clever name for him.

Standing Tall

My mother and I took a trip out to see my niece and sister yesterday. I had only been to visit once since Amanda came home, so it was high time to see my family.

Amanda looked great and was sitting on the couch. Her hospital bed is in the living room, over on one side, so there's still lots of room to move around. She told us that she's thinking of getting rid of the hospital bed and moving back into her own bedroom. We were shocked by that news, but she says she's figured out how to get in and out of her sleigh bed and would be much more comfortable in her own room.

Later, she commented that they'll be getting rid of the walker.

"What are you talking about?" Grandma asked. "If you get rid of the walker, how will you walk?"

"I'll just . . . walk," Amanda tried to explain.

"How, honey?"

"I'll just stand up and walk. Besides, the walker hurts my back because I have to bend down to reach it." Amanda is close to 6 feet tall and she has to stoop down to the walker. I can certainly understand how her back would hurt from using it.

"Show me," Grandma challenged, unable to quite grasp what Amanda was saying.

AND THEN SHE DID IT! She pushed herself up from the couch using her hands and arms (seemingly very easily), stood up straight, and began walking across the room. Grandma and I got very quiet.

In the midst of so many miracles, what's one more? But the truth is, we don't take any of this for granted. We both welled up with tears. Watching that girl walk - on her own - less than 4 months after a devastating accident that came so close to taking her life the nurses can't even believe she's still around is just almost too much to take in.

I don't even know why we're still surprised by her progress. That girl has more fight in her that Muhammed Ali. Her gait is a little strange, her hips are still rotated outward, so she sort of thrusts her pelvis forward, then moves her legs to balance, but she's walking, unaided, smoothly, FAR. I get choked up just remembering.

She turned around to head back to the couch and stopped to grin at me. What a beautiful look. And what a beautiful, precious young woman.

My niece, Amanda. The accident survivor.

And surviving, she is. Quite well, if you ask me.

Just Desserts

Today was our Church Picnic. Last year and again this year we decided to hold the picnic on the grounds of the church as opposed to a nearby Retreat Center. There were two rented inflatable water slides for the children, our Folk Group played mostly 70's music on the steps of the church, we had a booth where you could buy a chance to "slime" a staff member, and the church provided smoked chicken to go with our side-dishes.

This year, we had a dessert contest for children and one for adults. I decided to make my Amaretto Cheesecake that I developed a recipe for not long after Don and I were married, since cheesecake was his favorite dessert. I stayed up until 2:30 a.m. baking my cheesecake after Don and I got home from our date last night.

Deanna had talked all weekend about making strawberry shortcake for the contest but, 20 minutes before we were to leave for church, she hadn't started them yet. I should have known better than to assume we could get ANYWHERE on time.

She breezed into the kitchen and began the frantic process of making strawberry shortcakes. I have a pan that makes heart cakes (4) and she used it for the cake part. The strawberries were frozen, but she dutifully microwaved them and sliced them, then liberally sprinkled sugar on them. Wailing for whipped cream while pressing the shortcake dough into the pans, I realized it just wasn't happening. Either she'd have to give up her plan or we'd miss church.

We missed church. When we finally arrived at the picnic, she and I carried our creations into the Fellowship Hall.

"What are these for," a friend asked us.

"For dessert and for judging," I explained.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but we just finished the judging." I looked wide-eyed at Deanna. She stared back and I could see the lump in her throat.

"Are you going to cry?" I asked her gently. She shook her head vehemently, something she usually does just before she cries. "It'll be okay, honey. Everyone will still get to eat your dessert."

In my most encouraging tone, I talked her over to the dessert tables where we were met by one of the church staffers.

"Are these to be judged?" she asked me.

"Yes, but I understand we've missed the judging," I explained, one eye on Deanna's face to make sure she didn't lose it right there and then.

"Oh, don't be silly," she said. "There are still several judges around. We'll just make out a quick form, call them back, and have your desserts judged in a jiffy."

Deanna admitted later she was ready to cry and was only holding back the tears by shear willpower.

She told me just after claiming her certificate and $10 gift card to Breuster's Ice Cream for winning Best Dessert in Show.

I got a humble third place ribbon for my cheesecake.

And my friend, Terri, the church staffer who's the mother of a teenage girl, saved the day for us.

No crying in the shortcake.

The Rest of the Story

I'm sure you must be quite bored by now with baseball news, but I have yet another story in the "Dane pitching" saga.

He had his team pictures today and, on the way from the parking lot, we ran into his coach and walked together.

"I'm putting Dane in as pitcher again the next game," he told me.

"T.J., I don't get it. WHY are you putting him in? He walked two batters." I don't mean to be unkind, but let's be realistic here. I love my son and think he's a wonderful ball player, but I want us to win at least one game this season.

"Patti, didn't you watch him?" he looked funny at me.

"No. I couldn't see his pitches from where I was sitting," I explained.

"Every single one was directly over home plate. Not a one was to the right or left. They were perfect pitches, just a little too high. If he can just learn to pull them down a little, he'll nail it every time." He sounded like a father, bragging about his boy.

"Well, he's done exactly what you recommended. His daddy bought him a pitch-back and I got him a football, and he's throwing the football at the pitch back 50 times per day, per his daddy's instructions."

"And you can tell." He gave me some tips on how I can work a little more with Dane but was very encouraging about his pitching.

I guess so. I had no idea his pitches were so straight. We just need to bring them down a little. T. J. thinks it has something to do with how far he stands from the pitch-back when he practices.

He's getting another try on Tuesday. And his team will be playing his best friend's team. If he's going to walk a player, let's hope it's Tim.

Turtle-y

Deanna appreciates my humor. Unfortunately, I fear she's the ONLY one in this family that appreciates my humor.

Like the situation with turtle-y. Last week, my mother found a turtle in her yard. Not a tiny one, but a nice great-for-a-pet-sized turtle. She couldn't wait to show the kids. Dane and Daelyn became quite the turtle expert, showing all the neighborhood kids how to scratch his neck and head without getting bitten. He seemed quite a friendly turtle, following Mom around the yard as she worked, so Grandpa offered it to the boys.

"But you can only keep it a few days, and then you have to let it go," he told them. They rushed home to ask me.

The boys wanted to put him in a cage on the deck. I vetoed that idea and suggested we make a nice home for turtle under the gardenia bushes on the side of our driveway. The boys agreed. Dane gave him a planter drip-pan full of water and changed it daily. I was pinching raw ground beef off of Don's frozen hamburgers to feed him. Several times a day, different members of the family would traipse out to the gardenias to check on turtle-y, as he came to be called. (Note the verbal aplumb with which we named him.)

We agreed that we would let him go Monday afternoon after school. On Sunday, it occurred to me that there was no need to "let him go". He could "go" anytime he wanted, so I let the boys keep him under the gardenias.

Towards the latter part of the week, twice the boys found him someplace other than the gardenias. Once he was in the yard, once under our van. They carefully replaced him in his little floral home with his pan of water and raw hamburger (which I watched him eat one night - man was that nasty!) This morning, turtle-y was gone. The boys searched and searched, but never found him. While I was sorry for them, I tried to explain that he was a wild animal and HAD to be free to leave when he wanted.

This afternoon, Deanna and I went shopping. As we returned home and were coming in the house, I told her that our little pet had flown the coop.

"Oh, I feel so bad for him. But he couldn't have gotten far. Maybe we should look for him," she added.

"Are you kidding? He's tried twice to escape and the boys keep bringing him back. Last night, he planned it strategically. He waited until all the house lights were out, then made his getaway, quick, so he had hours to travel before the boys checked on him this morning and drug him back. The poor guy was desperate to get away."

Deanna snorted and choked on her root beer float. I have to watch her carefully, though, when we're together. She tends to squirt liquids out her nose.

Baseball

So, Dane pitched on Monday night. He was neither terrible nor wonderful. He walked two batters, then the coach replaced him. But he was happy as a clam. He got to stand on Pitcher's Mound. Him. Dane Doughty. The boy the coach didn't even bother to work with at the beginning of the year because he didn't think his arm was strong enough to ever pitch.

He smiled through the whole pitching experience. I held my breath, winced a few times, and prayed fervently.

But the oddest thing, by far, was last night after his game. Dane, although he played outfield all night, never was really IN the game. No balls ever made it to his neck of the field. He just stood there, poised, ready for the imminent ball that never came. After the game, which was close but a loss for our team (however, it was against one of the top two teams in the league, so we felt pretty good about even scoring against them), the coach gave the players his nightly pep talk. After expressing how pleased he was with every member of the team, he singled Dane out.

"Double D (his nickname for Dane), I talked about you all day today at work. I told everybody about you and how you pitched last night." He went on to talk about how well Dane had pitched and how proud he was of my son.

This seems to happen after every game. He singles Dane out and praises him. I can't quite figure it out. It seems he really likes Dane, which thrills me, but I don't completely understand.

I have to chalk it all up to one thing: we prayed for Dane to make it onto whatever team the Lord wanted him on. And I'm certain the Lord answered that prayer.

He has never enjoyed playing a game as much as he has baseball this season. He practices non-stop and talks baseball constantly. His skills have hugely improved and he's much more secure and confident than I've ever seen him. He's right where God wanted him. . .

. . . pitching occasionally, playing outfield mostly, striking out some. Right where God wants him - and darn happy about it.

Practice Makes Perfect

In early spring, Don and I were trying to decide whether or not to sign Dane up for baseball. His birthday isn't until June 14, so he's still actually 8 and would be in the machine-pitch league. However, since he has a late birthday, the Athletic Director told us that we could apply for a Dispensation so he could play on the Live Pitch with the other boys in his class. Live Pitch teams are chosen using try-outs.

Dane wanted to play and he wanted to be in the 9 and 10-yr. old Live Pitch League. We explained to him that since he would be trying out and the coaches do a schoolyard pick based on the try-outs, he may not make the team with his classmates. He said he wanted to try, anyway.

The day of the try-outs, he had been sick for 2 days and was running a hefty fever. We were told when we signed him up that he HAD to make it to try-outs if he wanted any chance of being on the team coached by his classmates' dads. He drug himself out to the field, me worrying the whole time.

His try-out was okay, but not great. He caught EVERY outfield ball (which was pretty amazing and showed a huge improvement over last year), but didn't get his mitt down close enough to the ground to pick up the grounders for the first few. Finally, he bent lower and got some. Batting was another can of worms. He's a fair batter, but just as he was in position, a coach stopped him, moved him, repositioned his bat, and it really knocked him off his stride. He missed the first 3 pitches but finally connected a couple of times with the ball.

Knowing how bad he felt, I was very pleased, but the coaches had no idea how sick this boy was and the conditions under which he was trying out. We prayed - not that Dane would make the team with his classmates, but that the Lord would put him on the team where He wanted him. Our prayers were answered.

The coach for Dane's classmates' team later told me that Dane got picked in the second round. I just couldn't believe it. Since then, I've asked his coach what he saw in Dane.

"He looked like he was having fun out there," he said. "And I also got the impression from him that he loves to play ball - any position, any time. He just loves the game." He added that he remembered Dane from last year and had been impressed then with Dane's love of ball.

"You see, I've been doing this for a long time. I've gotten pretty good at sizing kids up. Often, the kids that are really good are only in the game for themselves. They don't care about the rest of the team. They're hotdoggers who want all the glory. Dane struck me as the kind of kid that wants to be a part of something and will do exactly what he's told. I can win games with a player who's good and who listens to instructions. And Dane's never disappointed me. He always listens and does exactly what I tell him. He soaks it all in, and I really like that."

It's true. Dane listens carefully to everything the coach says. It's a shame he can't rattle off verbatim the things I tell him about life and chores the way he remembers what Coach says. And this Coach works with Dane. He's teaching him how to bat better. The assistant coach spent a good bit of time talking with me one evening about the length and weight of Dane's bat and advising me as to what kind he needs.

One day I asked the Coach if he'd work with Dane on pitching a little bit.

"I'm sorry. I haven't worked with him, because I didn't think his arm was strong enough to pitch, but I'll be happy to teach him some of the basics," he said.

"It's just that I'd like him to learn the technique, even if he never pitches. If you could teach him HOW to wind up, he could practice at home. He really does love the game and wants to learn every aspect of it."

Coach worked with him, explained that the real power in pitching isn't from the arm, but the legs. He explained that Dane would have to have the balance and poise of a ballerina. He gave him exercises to do, perching on one leg with the other bent at the knee, toes pointed downward. He told Dane to get in that position, then hold it for a 10-count. Dane's been faithfully practicing.

So faithfully, in fact, that his daddy went out and bought him a Pitch-back. Dane loves it and it really has helped with his placement and aim. Everyday he doesn't have a game, he's out in the backyard practicing.

After his game last Thursday, the coach told the players that there was an optional practice Saturday morning.

"I'll be out here at 10:00, if anyone want to come and practice," he said. Dane was there. Don canceled the fishing trip he was planning with the boys, and took Dane over to the field. The coach decided to do Pitching Practice.

Dane flew through the door around 12:15, running into the kitchen, obviously bubbling over.

"Guess what, Mom, " he shouted out of pure excitement. "I GET TO PITCH AT THE NEXT GAME!"

The coach had been favorably impressed with Dane's progress and promised him a spot on the mound at the game tonight. He may only pitch a part of an inning, depending on how well he does, but he at least will get a chance. Not bad for a boy who started this season never having wound up before.

We're praying he does REALLY well and will get lots more chances. In any case, I couldn't be prouder.

My son - the ball player!

Whoppers

I had lunch with Daelyn's teacher on Wednesday. It was a special luncheon to which I was invited, also, so I traded my day in the classroom with a good friend who helps out on Tuesday. She is also the Kindergarten substitute, so she was teaching while we were eating.

Karin: "Guess what Daelyn told me today?"

Me: "There's no telling with him!"

K: "He was playing in the woods last night at a cookout at a friend's house and he found an old shack in the woods."

M: "Yep. There is an old shack in those woods."

K, quoting Daelyn: " 'I saw a dead person tied up to a chair in the shack.' I asked him what he did about it and he said, 'I told my Mama and she told me not to go near that shack again.' "

Oh, ye of big imagination!

Home again, home again, clickety-click

Amanda comes home tomorrow. I took the kids to see her after school today. Trina's been sick with a cold and was taking a nap, but Amanda was sitting up in bed, watching TV. She motioned to us to come in, so we all tip-toed quietly over to her bed. We were just settling in when a nightmare jerked Trina awake. She smiled at us, then asked Dane to come snuggle her - my snuggly boy. He gave his Aunt Trina some wonderful lovin'.

Amanda is bouncing off the walls. She was unbelievably excited. She's going home tomorrow. She practiced getting in and out of her parents van and in and out of Grandma's chariot. Life will be a little challenging at first at home, I'm sure, but the excitement of familiar surroundings and the improvement she knows goes with being able to go home are all buoying her forward.

It's been a long, hard road, but it's finally leading her home. Thank you, Lord, and make the road smooth - my darling could use a few less bumps.

More Wedding Pictures

My wonderful nephew, the groom from 2 weeks ago, with his lovely new bride.



My unbelievable mother between Haley's two grandmothers. Isn't it incredible to see three women of this age who are all so beautiful?! Hope I have this to look forward to!

Prayerful Issues

Don and I are trying to make a very important decision and could really use prayer. We've spent the last 2 1/2 weeks praying together daily about this issue and asking the Lord to unite us and to give us clear signs as to what He would have us do. We've sought Wise Council and are now in the discussion phase.

We really want to be in the center of God's perfect will for us and our family. We've asked that He clearly block this and that that be our sign or that He swing the doors wide open. So far, there have been no roadblocks.

I'm not willing to say that lack of discernable roadblocks mean this definitely is what the Lord wants. It's so easy to interpret signs the direction you want them to point. But I do think it means that the Lord MIGHT want this to happen.

What complicates things so much more for me is that Don and I are such opposites. Don is VERY slow to make decisions. Although I may think about an issue for a long time, I tend to ponder it in my heart and never mention it until I've made my decision. Then, I'm ready to act immediately. In almost every other way, also, Don and I think at opposite ends of the spectrum. Often it's laughable how differently we think and still love and respect each other so much.

My natural inclination is to do the research involving any issue, pray, seek wise counsel, then act. Don's typical course of action is to pray, pray, pray, ponder, pray, pray, pray, ponder . . . until the issue goes away or resolves itself. It's very difficult for me to have done the research, prayed, sought wise council, and then sit and wait while Don works through his extensive and slow process. But out of love and respect for him, it's necessary that I allow him to work through issues the way he needs to.

I try very hard not to nag. I try very hard not to bring the topic up. I try very hard to keep myself busy with other things. I try very hard to allow him the time he needs.

Often, I fail. I don't mean to make excuses for my shortcomings, but I am human. If Don and I could both learn to meet somewhere in the middle - me spend more time pondering, Don spend a little less - making any decision may be easier for us.

He's such a sweet and darling man, such a great father and wonderful husband. After the timeframe that we agreed to pray and discern, I broached the subject.

"So, honey, what do you think God is saying to us?"

"I DON'T know!" he said in a frustrated, yet somewhat resigned tone. The truth is, I don't know either. The path has NOT been clearly marked for us. And neither of us really believe that this is a situation where one path is the "right" path and one the "wrong" path. It's more of a good, better, best scenario, and we both want the best. We're just not sure which is good and which is best.

Please pray with us. Ask the Lord to light up the runway for us so we can see our way in the dark. Ask him to bond us even tighter together so this decision can be made by two people who function as one. Ask that if hearts need to be changed or softened that they be changed or softened. And ask the Lord, for my sake, to speak clearly to my husband sooner as opposed to later.

If and when we have an answer, I'll let you know. Until then, keep us lifted up.

Thus and Such

It's been an eventful week. Dane's baseball team has had three games. Unfortunately, they're yet to win, which I find surprising since their team has 5 or 6 returning players and they've taken the championship 7 times. No such luck this year.

Dane has played quite well. The first play of the first game was a hit that went straight to him in right field. His quick response and good throw resulted in the first out. He was psyched. In the second game his first-base run began the streak that loaded the bases. Last night, he was on the bench letting some of the other boys play. His game was to start at 7:30, but it never really starts until at least 8:00. He came dragging through the door just before 10.

"I never got to play, Mom," he whined. Shocked by the news, I began asking questions. Turns out, they didn't even finish the first inning. The game was called with a score of 11 - 7 before the first inning was over. No wonder Dane didn't get to play. He never got up to bat and the coach was letting some other boys play outfield. I'm sure Dane would've been put in the game by about the third inning, but they never got that far.

Daelyn started coughing yesterday while doing his homework. It got worse as the day wore on. He coughed all night long and I decided to keep him home from school today. I guess I'll be going to T-ball this afternoon without him. One of my friends and I started a backyard t-ball league for the Kindergarteners and I have to be there this afternoon to work with the children.

This weekend, there is a work party to build a ramp to the front door of my sister's house so Amanda can get in the house when she's able to go home. Alex is coming over to help my brother-in-law and they expect to be able to complete it.

Don has a sleep study tonight to figure out why the man is awake half the night. Night before last, I awoke around 2 am to discover Don was no longer in the bed. Last night he took one of my Ambiens so he could get some sleep. I was able to wake up to my husband this morning - something that RARELY happens around here, and it was wonderful. We're praying they'll be able to diagnose him and solve the problem.

One last little tidbit. The company Don works for has lost the contract at the nuclear plant where Don works. They appealed the decision by the Department of Energy and the final response to the appeal came out this week. It was denied so Don will no longer be working for Washington Group shortly. When he got home from work last night, he told me that he had received a call from the man who was the Project Manager for the England project, Dan Curry. Dan will be in this area in a couple of weeks and asked Don if we could join him for dinner. Don says he wants to thank us once again for the sacrifices we made to complete the project. I raise my eyebrows, wondering how Don can be so naive. Obviously, he's going to offer Don a job. It'll be interesting to see what he's offering and how Don wants to proceed. It's a little scary to think that Don may want to consider a job that would require him to travel without us. I'm just not sure how we'd cope, but, ultimately, it's his decision. I guess we'll see on May 21. Maybe Don's right and he just wants to thank us . . . yet again.

I hadn't yet mentioned, but Nicki, our single friend who moved in with us before Christmas, moved out a couple of weeks ago. She moved back home. We miss her terribly. But we've been so busy we haven't even had a chance to see her since she left.

Summer's just one short month away. I can't wait for peace and quiet, although that might be a pipe dream with the children home all day long every day. At least we won't have to rush for awhile. And that's worth waiting for.