Great Big Balls

When I arrived at Grandma Barb's to pick up the kids from daycare today, Barb told me the kids entertained her with stories of their wonderful snowman. I barely raised an eyebrow - the snowman is from Christmas Day - nothing new to discuss, right?

"They told me their snowman has great big balls."

I chuckled.

She continued, "Just like their daddy."

We both cracked up.

Christmas Highlights

Yes, I realize it's the middle of January and I'm just now sharing the fun of our Christmas. Yes, I'm still building the website for work, and yes, I am SO ready to get it launched so I can just not work for like - I don't know - two nights in a row or something crazy.

Back to Christmas, this was our first year we didn't have to travel. Oh, the joys of relaxation! And not only did we not have to travel, we didn't have to host. Technically, we did a little traveling, and technically, we had two very-loved guests in our home, but it didn't really count toward holiday stress. My parents came to our house on Christmas Eve day and we lounged. They're so low-key that we didn't have to stress out about cleaning super duty or serving everything to them. We ate great food (we made our first crown roast and it was delightful)! We had a birthday party for the guest of honor, including cake and the "Happy birthday dear Jesus" song. The dads took the kids out for sled rides and gigantic snow-woman building (they named her Crystal). And we thoroughly enjoyed the beauty of the children.

Then on Saturday we went up to my folks' place and had a weekend with them, with my darling sister, brother-in-law, neice, and cousin joining us. Dan even got to bow hunt in my parents' woods and shoot a deer, which was the highlight of his holiday.

All season long, whenever anyone asked Miss Breanna what she wanted for Christmas, she said she'd like a purple candy cane. Miss Lillian wanted happiness, and perhaps some candy, too. Needless to say, they received their treats and more and it was all truly magical for these little pumpkins. We spent a lot of time reading Christmas story books for children, and the kids really got into that. In one book, Breanna pointed out that Mary was riding on a beautiful dog into Buffalo-hem. Lillian corrected her that Mary was on a camel. Breanna reminded her that camels have lumps and that Mary's dog had no lumps. Ah, the memories.

Favorite gifts: the jumpolene, the soft babies, and the train set. Way to go, Gramma and Papa. Here they are in the new playroom, trying out the jumpolene, which is mugh bigger than I'd expected, but great nonetheless. Note Breanna's "hat." She came upstairs from the playroom wearing the doll sweater on her head just before Christmas, and when asked what she'd found, she replied with a shrug, "What, my head was cold." We've had a hard time getting her to remove it ever since. And note Grant's socks, er, his dad's socks. DH is finally learning to pick up after himself a little bit.

As a whole, the holiday was delightful. We all enjoyed the relaxed pace, had some time for reflection, and even got some wonderful fresh air. I know we're all feeling mighty blessed.

Reminder about bridges

My wise mother used to remind me from time to time to never burn my bridges. And once again, I was reminded to thank her for sharing that wisdom.

This world seems to get smaller each day. Just this week, I came across someone who I once was extremely tempted to spout off to when he was acting inappropriately. Now, this person has matured into a respectable professional who approached me about donating to one of the ministries I manage. How glad am I for that invisible muzzle?

That invisible muzzle is probably one of my most prized possessions, although it doesn't work 100% all the time. One of my worst traits is my ability to spew some of the sharpest venom without raising my voice. I rarely let it be heard, but it's certainly there and can be harshly cruel, particularly when I see someone doing something mean or greedy intentionally. Because it really is not in my place to judge, I have to work deliberately to overcome this trait.

It's times like this when I realize it's worth the effort. It's also times like this that inspire me to make a resolution for the coming year. I aspire to keep my venom from reaching any other person's ears. Or even reaching a point of developing. We'll see how it goes. In the meantime, I'm going to focus on being thankful for all the good that surrounds us.

Icky Sicky

Our household has the crud that everyone else around us also seems to have - going on 8 weeks now. I feel pretty bad for these kiddos, as everyone is drained and just not themselves. We're all starting a stronger antibiotic today, so hopefully it will do the trick once and for all. What a long fall/winter.

We moved Lillian's bed into her new bedroom in the basement this past weekend when we had our Nelson family cookie bake, which was fantastic in every way. We're excited to see that Lil loves her new room!

Because Breanna was feeling so icky on Sunday morning, she and I stayed home from church and watched it on TV. It was the TV Mass that I produce at work, and I was so proud of her for recognizing the cross on TV as the one in the chapel/studio at my workplace.

After TV Mass was done, she and I went into her new bedroom, which is still furniture free (at least until DH transfers the bed and dresser from Breanna's current bedroom upstairs). I asked Breanna where we should put her new bed and she said, "Right next to Lillian's bed in her new bedroom."

Ah, no. No way. Not a chance. Not even if pigs fly. They'd be up all night for years on end.

We opted for the second choice - using the window overlooking the pond as the headboard.

DH is going back into contracting full time as of Monday - meaning less than a week. That means no more evenings/nights at the factory. It also means that things around our house might start to be done, such as moving Breanna into her new bedroom, which has been completed and clean for a couple months now. Hooray!

Wish us luck as we all adjust to having a healthy house and two parents home each night again.

Where have I been?

I've been trying my darnedest to keep up with my crazy busy trio, who have been battling colds for the last month. Because I don't use a computer when the kids are around/awake, that means I've been pretty lax on the social networking end of blogland.

Besides rocking and reading to coughing kiddos, we've all been enjoying the new developments in our children. Grant is telling knock knock jokes like crazy, and is also potty training himself.

Breanna and Lillian are bringing home homework and special requests for stuff from preschool every Tuesday and Thursday. They're also having a ton of fun learning Christmas songs and the difference between uppercase and lowercase letters. We've moved Lillian into her new bedroom into the basement and will test out the new room tonight. Breanna's moving down next, once we (meaning DH) move her stuff into her room.

Besides starting to get ready for Christmas and building a huge website for my company in my freetime, I'm also recovering from a recent surgery on my other foot. A hobbling and elevating and icing I go.

So that's where I've been. Certainly not in a mode that's relaxing or peaceful, but survivable and kind of fun nonetheless. Once this dang website is done, I'm taking some vacation time from work and am going to decorate my house finally and maybe some other "me" stuff.

If I don't get a chance to wish it to you in the next week or two, have a wonderful Christmas!

If only they knew

The kids are chatting up a storm these days - never stopping even to breathe, it seems. And the things they say are, well, let's just say it's good they don't know what they're saying in "grown-up speak."

This weekend, Breanna was whining to us because our neighbor boy "keeps trying to turn me on." He was chasing her around with toy keys. He kept taunting, "I'm going to turn you on," clearly not realizing why we grownups were having such a chuckle.

That prompted his mom to make a comment about Lillian's funny statement to the neighbor dad. The week after my foot surgery, the neighbor dad took my van and picked up my kids from daycare each night. Apparently, one night, Lillian asked him if he was going to sleep over with Mommy. We continued our chuckles last night and his cheeks pinkened.

Then this morning, Lillian wanted to be with me while I got ready to go to church. I curled a chunk of her hair with my curling iron - something we've never tried before. She loved it, but we didn't have time to curl the whole head, so I told her we would curl the rest after lunch.

After church, Breanna commented that she wanted crows. Crows? Yes, lots of crows on her head. I asked if she meant curls. No - crows. Huh? She explained that they are noisy birds and she wanted me to put a lot of them on her head. Uh, ok. Perhaps not.

Grant appears to be not much of a talker, unless you tune out the chatterboxes and listen to him. He's much quieter with the softest little honey of a voice, but he's got a lot to say. He keeps imitating noises, such as a train, Dad's diesel truck, my coffee bean grinder, the garbage truck, the hair dryer, the flushing toilet, and the washing machine, to name a few.

The fun continues...

Lillian's Eyelids, Breanna's Marriages, and Grant's Chair

Tonight my Lillian kept walking around, telling me her eyelids were dirty. She couldn't see out of them. They needed to be washed in the bathroom sink - and she needed her privacy. Wise mom that I am, I went in with her, only to learn that her "eyelids" were actually her green binoculars.

Breanna has been telling me each day who she just married. "I got married yesterday," is the line. So far she's married our daycare lady's son (who happens to be extremely punk/alternative, complete with spacers in his ears and tattoos galore), Auntie Lissy, Dominic (her classmate from preschool) and Daddy. Hmmm.

And, they're getting into knock, knock jokes. They don't understand them quite yet, but they roar with laughter when they get each other going. The favorite right now is, Knock, knock. Who's there? Cow. Cow who? Moo. They find it to be the funniest thing in the universe.

Grant isn't talking nearly as much as the chatterbox twins, but he's trying really hard to get in a few two-syllable conversation pieces. He's enjoying saying body parts and pointing to them. When he points at his diaper, he says, "Dirty. Poop. Pe-ew." Even when he's all clean. I honestly think that's what he thinks the name is. Poor kid. Hopefully we won't be worrying about that complex for long. He's peed in the potty chair about five or six times now. And he'll tell us now when he has to poop. Not that we make it to the chair in time very often, but once so far. Keep your fingers crossed.

The little tykes are growing up quickly. Our evenings and weekends are full of these things. What a treat!

Halloween at Home

We had a lovely Halloween at home this year, and my dear ol' Daddy Do was able to join us for our fun day. My poor mom was battling the bug, so she kept her germs at home. Lillian was beyond elated to be a lollipop. Breanna was ok with being a peppermint, but she kept changing her mind. In the last month, she wanted to be a puppy, no kitty, no monkey, no toaster, no pumpkin, no sunshine...

I thought Grant was going to wrap up the theme in his cotton candy costume that I'd spent a couple hours working on -- until he boycotted it, that is. He was terrified of the bag; he wouldn't let me near him with it and when I snuck up to try it on him, he threw himself to escape and ran and hid behind the recliner. Plan B - he wore Lillian's puppy costume from last year. All was good.

After the trick-or-treating was done, we celebrated my dad's birthday with a smiley cake and then some presents in our new basement family room - what a treat to hang out by the fire together! All in all, the "holiday" was a real treat for all of us.

Are we the only ones?

DH and I saw each other for about 15 minutes this afternoon. It was a lovely little date. And we had a great visit. About our "normal" state of chaos.

I've had a nasty cold the past week or so, and it's really done a number on me - I think the cold medicine has made me particularly panicky about dumb stuff. Stuff like Lillian's special bag, among much other stuff. Poor DH must be beyond frustrated with me at this point.

On Thursday when we picked up the girls from preschool, Lillian came out with a canvas bag. I had her bring it back to her teacher to ask if it was supposed to be left there. The teacher said it was a Sharing Bag or something like that and that it was mentioned in the newsletter. Lillian was expected to bring it back on Tuesday.

This weekend, I dug through all kinds of papers and artwork and newsletters and junk mail, but to no avail. No newsletter explaining this bag. So I sent the teacher an email, asking for more specifics. Do we need to bring it back with stuff to share (i.e. snacks) or something of Lillian's to share for a Show and Tell type of thing? No response. And of course, the newsletter section of the school website is empty. I finally gave in and bought a big pack of snacks to bring incognito in case that's what's needed. And I helped Lillian pick out a special toy to share. Wonder how it will go...

I mentioned all this to DH this afternoon and he chuckled, commenting that the teacher would understand - life with preschoolers is chaotic. Then I pointed out that our life is way more chaotic than most, which is why I'm becoming neurotic in so many ways. He questioned me. Duh.

I work full-time days with a workload that could easily take at least 80 hours a week to fulfill. The kids are shuttled between daycare and school. I raise them and have all the house duties on my shoulders alone in the evenings. He works an evening job for 40 hours a week, and spends his daytime hours trying to start his contracting company here in a new community, as well as finish up our basement (which I'm convinced will never be fully complete, but that's another post). We still haven't moved into half our house, which means our three-stall garage is still full of boxes and I'm still parking outside. In our freetime, I'm having foot surgery and colds and other dumb stuff, trying to find some "normal."

We then talked about how almost all the other preschool kids are dropped off by moms in workout clothes and big fancy SUVs, clearly not ladies headed for the office. No wonder they always seem so calm and slow-moving. And no wonder we always seem to be on the run. But I guess it's par for the course. It's the decision I make each night - to read and work puzzles with the kids, to enforce bedtime routines and ensure we all say prayers - instead of plunking the kids in front of a TV and working on unpacking and organizing. It's a conscious decision, and though there's some sacrifice of sanity, I do deep down believe we're going in the right direction.

But man... is there hope? Will we ever get to be just a couple of 40-hour/week workers on the same schedule, eating as a family and visiting without one of us having to be home on sick leave in order to do it? Some day...

Patience of a Saint

It's a phrase I hear often - in the top 10 of most repeated phrases. "You must have the patience of a saint." And each time I hear it, I smile. Not because I actually am patient - in fact, I am one of the least patient people on the planet - at least on the inside. The reason I smile is because that phrase brings to mind my mom, every single time I hear it. Because she IS as patient as a saint. Perhaps she is just plain a saint. Too early to know for sure.

I had the wonderful opportunity to see Mom's patience in action just this past weekend. She took me in to the surgery center at 4:30 a.m.(!) on Friday to get my foot operated on. And when I woke up, she stuck with me as I faded in and out, never getting frustrated when I'd stop the conversation mid-sentence.

Throughout the weekend, I was not a model patient - well, maybe I was a good patient, but not a good hostess. I sat back and let Mom and the kids wait on me, and Mom wait on the kids, and also do some major slave labor. With a song and a smile, she just kept asking how else she could help. Even when the kids were whining, not feeling good, fighting, being toddlers, she smiled and tried distracting them with games and activities. All the while, she had the washer/dryer going all weekend and scrubbed stuff every time the house quieted with nappers.

If any of you know my mom, this doesn't sound like anything new. After all, she's been the Mrs. Cleaver role to many of our childhood friends. She's one where you just know that her true calling is to be a mom, whether to her own children or someone else's, she's always a mom. She nurtures, she has wise advice when she's asked for it, she doesn't push, she doesn't pull, but she always helps keep the big picture in perspective. She's one of those people who, when she says she's going to pray for you, you know she's going to do it diligently.

This semester, she's teaching a few college classes on top of her full-time career. Building a stronger base for her retirement (see? wise...), she's swamped every day, weekends included. Her patience is getting a real run for the money and poor Mom is simply dumbfounded by all this. And yet, she politely responds with the ultimate appropriateness, sounding patient as ever, continuing to lead by example.

I sure hope I pick up more of that patience trait as life goes on - it seems to really suit her well. May God bless my patient saint of a mother.

Radicchio

As the kids and I snuggled into a pile of blankets on the floor with a pile of books tonight, Lillian looked up at me and grabbed my nose. "Mom," she said, "You have a big nose. It's almost as big as Daddy's."

Breanna piped in, "Almost, but his nose is big big big, like this," as she extended her arm all the way out to show how incredibly long the nose is. "His nose is like bumpernickle's."

"Bumpernickle?" I asked.

"Yes, that naughty boy who didn't tell the truth," she explained.

Lillian quickly corrected her, "That's not his name. It's Radicchio. Silly girl."

None of them noticed that I was laughing so hard I had tears.

A Time to Cleanse

I just returned from a TEC weekend in Belle Prairie, MN. I helped staff a Christian retreat that has held a spot in my heart for the last 16 years; I was a resource, which means I guided and journeyed along with a small group of people experiencing TEC for the first time. The people on this weekend's retreat were amazing - beautiful souls - wonderful hearts. The spiritual director made me proud to work for the church and honored to be part of the experience. I made a lot of new friends and enjoyed working with some folks whom I really respect.

I had not been back to the TEC center for nearly four years - the last time I worked I was newly pregnant with the twins - it was there that my belly "popped" and I began to show.

Since my last retreat, I had certainly experienced a lot. My life is completely different now than it was then. Thankfully, a few important things have remained constant. My faith life has remained strong, my husband has grown even more cherished to me, and my family has continued to be awesome.

As I began to mentally recap the in-between years, I realized why I'm so tuckered out these days - life has been absolutely wild. There's been a lot of good and I SO greatly appreciate it. But there have also been a huge number of hardships - some really big ones - in a very condensed period of time. I was stricken with sickness, had babies who faced death, got "fired" from our first daycare provider, survived a really tough first year of preemie life (times two), started working for and soon left a totally nutso ad agency, gave away my dogs of 7 years, lost half my grandparents on the same day, dealt with way too much alcoholism from my in-laws, watched a couple cousins get cheated on, sold a house, built a house, lost my biggest client ever and sold the new house without even moving in, took a job on "the client side" - nonprofit - church, no less!, uprooted us all into central MN to take a job where those who need me the most don't want me there the strongest, inherited an explosive employee who actually tried to sabatoge me, learned that our hiring freeze meant that getting rid of crappy employees simply means I've doubled my workload, watched my poor husband give up his thriving company and move here at the worst possible time, became a single mom each M-F while my DH took a "factory job" working evenings, struggled with the massive pay cut that resulted from DH's giving up his company, spent a fortune on the kids' teeth to fix the prematurity problems, juggled myself between docs trying to find a way to fix my face, developed killer bunions, watched some loved ones suffer from cancer, etc.

No wonder it's felt like such a long road.

During this long road, I haven't given myself the time to process it all and grieve - the last time I'd even cried was when I was still in the hospital with the twins - heavily drugged and extremely foggy due to the physical pain. This past weekend, I finally had the luxury of time to let myself deal with it all and rejoice in surviving it.

I am so relaxed and so grateful for the opportunity to finally let go of some of that baggage. And so exhausted. I'm pretty sure I'm a little disfunctional, since I only seem to let go that freely at the TEC center, but perhaps it means I just need to go back more frequently than four years at a stretch. Next time, I'm bringing DH with me.

If you love yourself even the tiniest bit, you owe it to yourself to attend one of these retreats. It's based on Christianity, but I know of a couple people who went there as atheists who even had great experiences. It's the best investment of less than $100 I can possibly imagine. www.cmtec.org

The toad

My kids are a little too sharp for their own good, I'm afraid. When I drove up to daycare yesterday, all three kids nearly knocked me down in excitement to show off the toad Breanna was holding. I asked his name and Lillian replied, "Frog." Breanna said, "No, toad."

They then announced that they were going to bring him home with us. Uh, no. Smarty pants that I am, I explained that he doesn't have a carseat, so we couldn't buckle him in. Breanna quickly retorted, "I'll put him in my cup holder. See? He fits?" Oh, no no no. When I had her remove him and take him back outside, she commented, "I can use my shoelace to buckle him in. He'll be nice and safe."

She stumped the mom here - pretty good logic for a three-year-old. I talked her and Lillian into leaving their new pet in a box with some leaves. They each kissed him goodnight. Thankfully, no prince appeared.

This morning when the girls were dragging, not wanting to put on shoes, I reminded them that we'd better get to daycare to check on that toad and see if he needed breakfast. With that, they leapt into their shoes, raced to the van and buckled in before I even had MY shoes on. Another day in the life...

Missing

This crazy life is crazy. Not in a wild, drug-dealing, night-club dancing kind of crazy, but a much less subtle, equally-as-wearing kind of way. I miss "normal." Along with normal, I miss alone time with my hubby - awake alone time. I miss my patience. I miss work-free evenings once the kids are in bed. I miss down time. I miss my energy.

With my DH working evenings, I try to get home at lunchtime a couple days a week to have a quick bowl of cereal and then visit with him for a half hour. I miss him so very very much. Then the weekends come and we try to catch up on life and what's all happened in the past week. We end up talking logistics of children and work and always seem to run out of time for just "being" and laughing. He tries to give me a break from the kids, yet they all want to be all together, so I end up exhausted by the time Sunday night rolls around.

The last several weekends, my DH has been gone - working or hunting - which means I've been a single parent all week, and then the weekends, too. Needless to say, I've crossed into the realm of beyond overwhelmed with our three precious children. I feel it in my crabby voice, in the way I holler, the way I snap and the way I don't sing to or with them much these days. It's so sad and I feel awful that the situation has gotten the best of me, and yet, even when I pray about it, I only seem to mellow out for a few minutes before yelling at whoever dumped cinnamon all over the floor. It's a constant race and I'm absolutely drained.

Thank God DH will be home with us tomorrow for a whole day. I know some quality family togetherness would be lovely, but I'm using the time to take a break. I'm going to the salon in the morning and then finding someplace to wander around aimlessly. It's my only chance for the week. On Sunday, DH is going to run back to Fargo for another day of work, so I'll be at it alone again. But come next Friday, I'm going to do something really exciting! I've signed up to work a TEC retreat - which I haven't done since having kids. I'm elated just knowing the kinds of refreshment comes out of those experiences. And I'm delighted to truly get a break from the kids!

I know that with the way God works through TEC retreats, I will come away most likely with a renewed focus - not on what I'm missing but what I'm blessed with. And that's what I miss the most. I'm so thankful to know of a do-able means to getting that perspective back in check.

First Day of 'cool

I'm beat after the twins' first day of pre-school today. Once I finally got them to bed last night, I was able to pack their backpacks with all the stuff on the list from school. And pick out clothes. And iron little pants. And prep for breakfast (since we'd be getting up almost an hour earlier than normal in order to make this all fly). It all added up to a late night for me.

The girls are in separate classrooms across the hall from each other in our local Catholic elementary school. I was delighted when the teachers called a few weeks ago to say they have so many students they had to open up two classes and that meant I had the option to keep the twins together or not - my call. Hooray for options! The decision to go with different rooms was natural for us - they are such opposite kids.

When we went in to wake up Lillian this morning, she popped up and excitedly asked, "Do we get to go to 'cool today? Today?" Yes, finally, the day had come after many weeks of buildup. Up early, we had a lovely family breakfast of real opeemeal (oatmeal) with fresh blueberries and cream, yogurt, and bacon. The dropoff of the kiddos at school went well, as did the dropoff of Grant at daycare - alone.

The pickup was uneventful, too. Both girls were exhausted by the time 11:30 rolled around and nearly conked out on their way to daycare. Both had a great time (and Grant loved having Grandma Barb to himself all morning, too).

Neither twin exhibited any anxiety about her sister (I was so curious), but they did talk a lot about each other. For show-and-tell, Breanna brought her little watering can so she could talk about all the "plowers" she and her sister helped water this summer. Lillian wore her green admission bracelet from our trip to the farm on Friday. She told her class about how the crabby donkey tried to eat Breanna's finger but he tasted some blood and decided not to bite it off. Thankfully, there were no stitches needed for show-and-tell.

I guess this means we officially have a couple of big kids and a toddler. I don't know if that's better than three toddlers or not.... will have to get back to you on that one.

My cousin's inspiration

I have a pretty cool cousin out in Washington. Even though I haven't seen her in person in at least a decade, probably more, I know she's cool because we've connected through Facebook/blogs in the last couple years. We've even visited on the phone and hit it off famously.

She recently started a blog that simply states things she's grateful for that day. Simple, but beautiful. Now I'm inspired.

I've been struggling with trying to figure out the relevance of Twitter in my life, and this might just be the connection I've been searching for. I haven't been drawn to tweet in the least, but I kind of feel like I need to use the technology just for the sake of understanding it. Aghghghgh - the pressures of being a communications consultant. This might be my ticket, though. Do-able and not much of a chore at all.

Thanks, Barbie. Wish me luck! Today, I am grateful for your inspiration.

My obsessive research topic of the month

As my dear husband would say, I'm dabbling in voodoo. After consulting with an MD who also has a naturopathic medical degree, we've agreed on an experimental treatment plan to kick me the rest of the way back from this Bell's Palsy crap that has been hanging on since April 19, 2o06. I went in to him because my podiatrist insisted I have a family doctor before he does surgery so he can have someone to send the results to. I told him to just send the results to me. We went round and round on that topic, as well. But that's besides the point.

I had a strategy on this one. The doc I picked is very well-rounded - traveling the world to learn different approaches and often lecturing on new and unique treatments that most American MDs have never bothered looking into. So I went in for a "family checkup." When he asked why I picked him, since he books out 4 months, I told him I really was hopeful he'd notice my BP and have some magic suggestion for how to get rid of it.

Aha. The more we talked, the more he explained that based on a lot of factors I'd shared, he'd be willing to bet I got BP due to Lyme disease that had been dormant in my system, but deep in my tissues. Once the twin pregnancy got to be a major strain on my body, the Lyme came out fighting and damaged part of my facial nerve. (I was delighted to hear this, because earlier this same year I had been to a different naturopath who diagnosed Lyme disease - dormant - through EDS - and helped me kill the virus homeopathically.) It made sense. Finally something that added up.

I asked if he thought surgery would open up my affected nasal passage so I can breathe through that side of my nose again and his eyebrows shot up. Surgery? Don't you think it's a little drastic? I told him it's been three years and I just want my nose to work. If my smile looks like a smirk forever, I can handle it. If my eyebrow never works again, ok. True, I'll never be hit on again by a stranger, but really, I'm married and I can handle it - I've had three years to get used to that ego blow. I just want my nose to be able to breathe so I can eat a meal and be able to chew with my mouth shut for every bite - and not have to wear a very unsexy BreatheRite strip to bed for the rest of my life.

So he came up with an untraditional treatment plan that is making me stink like vitamins, poop way more frequently than I'm used to, and clean out my savings account more quickly than I'd prefer. One of the protein products makes me gag, then shiver at it's grossness each time I take it - twice a day. I shivered just now as I wrote about it. If ever you get an inkling to drop 60 bucks to try K-Pax - listen to these words of wisdom - nothing could be grosser - it's like drinking someone else's puke. Add to that, 4 mega-concentrated fish oils, 4 lipioc acids, 4 CoQ10s and a D each day, as well as 5 portions of veggies and 3 fruits. Now as if that doesn't sound icky enough - I'm also doing something I consider to be extreme.

I started an IV therapy this week - 250 grams of Vitamin C and a concoction full of other mega healing properties. Next week I go in for 500 grams, the next week for 750, and then 8 weeks of 1000 grams. To put this into perspective, the daily recommended value is 60 milligrams. To convert what that means, I'll be receiving 1 million milligrams. It's expected to take around three hours to get that much into my system each time. Whoa.

So, between last week's appointment and this week's first IV, I've been researching online every free moment (not that there have been many at all - I've been SWAMPED at work). This is a treatment that natural-type people use to treat cancer. Needless to say, I'm cautiously optimistic. If it doesn't work, fine, I'm out a few thousand bucks and I'm stuck with a face that doesn't fully work but can live with. But at least then I'll know to just give up and finally allow myself to grieve and face the reality.

If it does work, though, wow - what a great investment! So, please say a prayer for this to work and for me to not get consumed with anxiety over it all. My wonderfully supportive husband is usually awesome, but he's really skeptical on this and less than happy with the amount of money I'm investing in it. I'm trying to explain that while he pours his extra money into hunting gear and trips out West, we can consider this my hobby. (It's still less than what he spends on hunting, I'm guessing.) But he is worried that I might grow a tail or start spouting green hair on my nose or something. Guess we'll just have to wait and see...

The way they talk

I'll be the first to admit, I am easily amused by my kids. The things they say and the way they pronounce them makes me chuckle at least a half dozen times a day.

They love talking about tooting and vehicles and babies and God and water towers and baking and all the wonderful places they spot letters and the size of poop and how much they love the dentist. They've just started roleplaying, Lillian always wanting to play baby Jayda and Breanna is a different kind of Jayda. When they sing the alphabet, each time they get to L they automatically sing "L for Lillian."

Some of my favorite mis-pronunciations include plutterbys and pink-o-lows (sprinklers) and me-plection (reflection) and tattoons and nicnacs (picnics) and neck-a-nicks (necklaces) and many more. Their F sound always comes out as a P sound, so that alone makes stuff sound silly. Life in our house is punny (funny).

Summer Fun

Here are a few of our summer memories so far, captured.

1. We survived our first family trip to the strawberry farm in late June. You probably can't tell in the photo, but I'm carrying Grant in the lead - he couldn't make it even one step without having to stop and snack.

2. The kids artfully made "trees" out of the bag of zip ties Dad left out the morning of July 4 - all in the time it took for mom to pour and deliver a cup of coffee to Dad, who was sleeping in.

3. Fourth of July was spent at home, with the family enjoying the wild and crazy sprinkler.

4. Grant tried out his vintage surfing suit and we all crashed in exhaustion after that afternoon.

5. We rearranged our living room, leaving just enough room for a hiding spot small enough for Grant. He loves peeking out of there!

I yelled back

While at the podiatrist today, talking about my upcoming bunion surgery in October, he tried having a little "chat" with me about the types of shoes I wear. He was shocked and disappointed that I showed up at my orthotic fitting wearing sandals. He implied that I didn't even want to get positive results from the upcoming surgery.

Our conversation went kind of like this.

"What kind of athletic shoes do you wear?"

You mean like tennies? I don't wear tennies.

"What do you wear when you work out?"

I don't have time to work out. I have three little tiny kiddos and a husband who works evenings. Are you kidding?

"Well what do you wear when you're running after kids?"

Whatever I can slip on and chase them in. Sometimes just socks. Never anything complicated.

"What about when you go shopping?"

I pay $20k in daycare annually and my husband took a 75% paycut to move here, and that's the extent of my shopping money.

"What about groceries?"

I try to order them online.

"Well then how do you stay so slim?" (as if he didn't believe me)

I chase after three kiddos and rarely have time to eat. Plus, if you saw me naked, which you never will, you'd know that my bones may be small, but the rest of me is plenty squishy. I clearly do not work out.

"Well then you need to get into some good athletic shoes. I'll write down a couple brands for you to look at and then buy them at one of these two stores."

The $100 sandals I'm wearing came from one of those stores and was recommended by the clerk to be supportive for bunions. Plus, the second I walk in the house with anything with laces, my kids will sniff them out and promptly unlace them and tie them in knots before we even get up the stairs. Plus, I wear dress clothes in my career - I can't wear tennies. We even have a dress code that says so.

"They come in different colors besides just white, you know."

Yes, but have you ever seen lace-up loafers look appropriate with a skirt? Can't I just avoid sandals and instead go with some nice slip-on loafers. Do you know how tight my hamstrings are after back surgery years ago? I think I'd ache forever if I had to wear flat shoes.

"You don't really expect this surgery to be the cure-all if you're not going to at least try to help the situation, do you?"

Well, you don't really expect me to dress like a grandma just to please you, do you? Who's your biggest competitor in town, anyway? I'm finding someone else who will support me in my lifestyle instead of listening to someone talk down to me and not even consider a discussion about finding a solution to fit MY life.

And off I went. And after work this afternoon, I promptly came home and plunked my new orthotics into some lovely slip-on loafers to break them in for the first hour - I even set the timer. See, I AM a good patient who listens, but only when the talk isn't nonsense. Flat tennies, my foot.