A Christmas Carol

Houston's teacher sent out an email requesting for volunteers to chaperone their upcoming field trip to see a performance of A Christmas Carol at a local theatre.  Since I happened to be on my email a mere thirty minutes after her message hit my inbox, I promptly replied back that I would love the opportunity.  With such a swift response, I felt as though I had an edge on all the other working parents.  I didn't care where they were going, what they were doing, or when it was happening.  I just knew I wanted to be there!

My mother never missed a single field trip when my brothers and I were young.  But, you see, these days, the opportunity to chaperone a field trip in elementary school is not like it used to be.  It is extremely competitive.  I even volunteered to be the room parent one year, hoping that would give me an advantage.  Complete falsehood.  I have yet to be able to attend a class outing with either of my children.  There's been a total of four chances over the last two years, but sadly, my name was "never drawn from the hat".

When the note came home that I had attained a coveted spot, I felt as though I'd won Publisher's Clearing House!  I perused the red flyer twice and gave Houston a gigantic embrace.  I won!  I won!  I finally won!  I didn't hesitate to send in my $8 the very next day, for fear that my space would be filled with another eager parent.

Field trip day arrived.  Parents are not allowed to ride the bus so I met them at the theatre.  Once the kids exited the bus, I joined up with Houston's class on the sidewalk.  There were a sea of second graders!  Teachers were nervously trying to herd their children.  I approached Houston's teacher.  "Where are all my parents?" she frantically inquired.  "I only have four parents.  All the other teachers have ten or eleven," she continued.

And just like that, my sense of good fortune disappeared like a gallon of milk with a threat of snow.  You feel less like a winner when everyone's a winner.  At least I was there!

As we filed into the auditorium, Houston looked at me, giddy with joy, "I'm SO excited!" he giggled.  Truth be told, I was just as excited.  We sat on the second row.  There was a good twenty minutes to kill before the show began, which gave me a chance to socialize with some of his classmates.  I learned many little golden nuggets.  For instance, the fake snow that was sprinkled all over the carpet will magically transform you into anything you want, should it land on you.  It was about that time that she blew her collection of white, plastic flakes at my face.  Another child made known her Christmas list to include, but not limited to, a Taylor Swift CD, an Easy Bake Oven, fuzzy purple slippers, and a hot pink Ipod.

I also deducted through observance that Houston's good friend is a troublemaker.  It was pretty obvious when Calvin (name changed to protect the guilty) was switched from his seat farthest away from the teacher to a spot right near her.  "I thought you'd like a better view," she reassured him as she patted his back and winked at me.  All the while the little girl dressed in all black and seated right next to me continued to bounce up and down in her seat and re-adjust her headband a ga-jillion times.  "I'm dressed in Goth today," she announced before she began sucking her thumb.

As the performance began, the kids quickly settled down.  They became far less interested in devising a way to "accidentally" fall into the orchestra pit.  Ten minutes in, the first spirit visited Ebeneezer Scrooge.  The ghost of Jacob Marley was quite scarier than I remember from childhood.  Houston loved it!  Goth girl grabbed my arm and squealed with fright.  Another student, shielding his eyes, scurried down our row searching for refuge in the lap of the teacher.  He ended up having to leave altogether.  Later in the play, my next-seat-neighbor yanked my arm down when I held my cell phone up to take some pictures.  She scolded me in a whisper, "No flash photography!"  I had already turned the flash off, hence the slighly blurry pictures.

All in all, the play was exceptional--especially being so close.  It was a short sixty minutes, perfectly suited for an eight-year-old attention span.  We grabbed a quick snap-shot with one of the leading role actors and high-fived Tiny Tim on the way out the door.

I can't wait to re-live the experience with Hayes next year, since I now know that the Christmas Carol is an everyone-receives-a-trophy-in-little-league field trip.

Christmas Catalogs

Today was the day my children have been anticipating for nearly 320-some odd days -- the arrival of the Christmas catalogs!  However, little did my children know, that I remembered from last year what a horrible experience this was.  The circling of pictures and making of the Christmas wish list, that is. 

Here's how it went down last year:

As a child, my brothers and I had a blast looking through the Christmas catalogs.  With each flip of the page, we were dreaming of what we would possibly find under the tree on Christmas morning.  Fast forward to 2010.  When the Target and Toys R Us ads arrived in the mailbox, I couldn't wait for the kids to arrive home!  I greeted them at the door with markers and magazines in hand.  I think I actually had visions of sugar plums in my head as I offered the catalogs, chock full of the best toys that retailers had to offer, to the pack of hyenas disguised as my children.  Within a matter of minutes, they had nearly devoured the shiny circulars as if a delectable, lone wildebeest.  The remains were nearly unrecognizable.  I had to intercept a few fists, snatch some markers, and enforce time-outs.  I could not convince my children that an item on one child's list was actually a win for the whole family.

As the toy catalogs began to arrive this year, Adam and I decided to dispose of the evidence quickly and permanently.  Until today.  When I checked the mail, there was another holiday teaser.  I guess I had a change of heart.  Who am I to deprive my boys of such an exciting and joyous pasttime?

Once again, I greeted them at the door with the catalog.  I enticingly offered to Houston, "How would you like to pick out your Christmas list?" as I dangled the fresh meat in front of his face.  His eyes popped open and his mouth dropped.  "I get to go first?!"  He couldn't believe it!  He snatched the catalog and bee-lined for the kitchen.  He ravaged the junk drawer for a Sharpie marker and came up empty.  He settled on an ink pen and plopped down at the table, never even stopping to remove his backpack.  You could see the elation and expectancy grow with each page turn.  The anticipation was killing him as he scrambled to get through the "girls section".  Worry began to set in as he realized he was nearing the end and still had not found anything for boys.

And then the unthinkable happened...he reached the last page.  He was completely bewildered that there was not a single Transformer or Bionicle.  Not even the most basic of boys toys, a truck or a train, were present.  That's when he flipped back to the front cover.

"You can order the dolls to look just like you!" I taunted him.  "And they have every accessory in the world you could think of!  Wanna have a tea party?  They've got you covered!  Wanna hit the slopes for some skiing?  They've got that too!  How 'bout a pet?  So many to choose from!"

He was not amused.  I presume it worked out for the best, considering I'd have to refinance the mortgage to afford such a gift.

Hawk-ism: Where's Mommy?

Adam was being a sweetheart this morning and letting me sleep in.  In my house of loud, rambunctious boys, the only way to accomplish this is to banish them to their room until Sleeping Beauty awakens.  Adam was playing a video game in the living room and the boys had been playing altogether in the big boys' room.  Hawkins emerged and was crying profusely.

Adam:  Hawk, what's wrong?
Hawkins:  <still balling his eyes out>  Where's Mommy?
Adam:  Shh.  Shh.  It's okay.  Mommy is sleeping right now.  What do you need?
Hawkins:  I need Mommy!
Adam:  Baby, she's in bed.  What do you need?
Hawkins:  <still crying>  I need a drink!!
Adam:  <laughingly>  I can get you a drink!

And instantly, his entire demeanor changed.  He immediately quit crying and began grinning ear to ear.

Proof positive that the kids do not view Adam as any form of caretaker or provider, although we really don't know why.

Check-Up Time

Well, it's the second week of November and that means at least one thing is for sure...annual check-up for Houston and Holt.  When I made the announcement this morning, the fear in Houston's eyes was immediate and unmistakable.  He hasn't had a vaccination since he was five.  Nor will he need another one until he is twelve.  This he knows and relies on for a confidence booster with every mention of the doctor's office.  "But I'm NOT getting a shot!" he declares with much authority.  And with a slightly more vulnerable tone he questions, "Am I getting a finger prick?"

I nod my head and in efforts to blow right past that terrifying truth, I offer with a gigantic grin, "And you get to pee in a cup!"  With my affirmation of a needle, that's when the panic began to set in.  You could almost witness the beads of sweat roll down his now pale face.  Since the cup didn't excite him, I felt another distraction tactic was in order, "I'm checking you guys out from school today!"

He didn't even look up from his bowl of Cookie Crisp.

Later that afternoon, as we walked up the sidewalk to Dr. Owen's office, the Funeral March playing in Houston's head was audible to us all.  I filled out the same paperwork for the ump-teenth time while Adam attempted to psych Houston up about the finger prick.  Once I was done with the forms, I pulled up last year's blog post on my phone about Houston and the finger prick for purposes of encouraging him.

"You were very reluctant to hand over your finger for a prick.  However, you finally did and realized it doesn't hurt!  (Just like Mom and Dad were trying to convince you.)  Hopefully, you will remember that next year.  Perhaps we should read this blog before going to your 8 year check up."

He nervously smiled and headed back over to solemnly watch whatever preschool show was blaring on the waiting room television.

I have failed to mention up until this point, although you probably assumed, that the entire Schwartz family was represented today.  We hadn't really thought about the logistics of cramming into an exam room when Adam and I agreed to all go to the appointment.  The open space is no more than 4 x 10.  Hawkins was in the stroller crammed all the way by the window while Houston and Holt sat on the exam table.  Adam and Hayes took up residence in the only two seats.  I stood in the "aisle".  I'm positive the room could not have held anymore Schwartz's.  Should we decide to have another child, I think our pediatrician should consider building a bigger, family-friendly exam room.

"Mommy, Mommy!  Can I wash my hands?" Hayes pipes in over the continual shuffling of weigh checks and height checks and blood pressure monitoring and head circumferences.  I'm not sure what it is in my second born, about the doctor's office that sparks a newfound passion for hygiene.  Due to the fact that we're snug in there like a jigsaw puzzle even without the two additional nurses, I asked him to wait.

Enter "Bug Lady".  That's what our kids have nicknamed the sweet nurse from the patho lab that comes in to prick fingers.  She got her name because she tells the kids that she is checking their blood for bugs.

Houston objected to every finger she wanted to use.  "That's my gamer finger!" he protested.  He began to beg.  And grovel.  Then he resorted to crying.  I decided to let her go ahead and prick Holt since Huey was having difficulty with accepting reality.  Commence Holt crying which made Hawkins cry.  Holt was screaming, Houston was crying, Nurse Julie was repeating "It's okay, it's okay" and the Bug Lady was calmly requesting "Let me see your finger.  It isn't gonna hurt!"  Adam and I were very sternly suggesting for Houston to man up and stick a finger out.  The poor kid in the exam room next to us probably thought that someone was getting their arm chopped off with all the sounds of anguish exuding from Room 12.

Adam managed to pry a finger out of the deeply clenched fist and that's when the bug lady swept in for the kill.  Houston instantly quit crying because he realized, Hey, that didn't hurt afterall. The medical staff departed, quite enthusiastically, and the room was finally quiet for half a minute.  A nice reprieve from the last five minutes of screaming and/or crying from eight individuals simultaneously.  We all just sat there, catching our breath and re-hashing in our heads, what in the world just happened?!

Hayes broke the silence first.
"Hey, Mom, can I was my hands now?!"


Here's Our Stats:

Houston
54.5" tall  96%
92 pounds 97%

Holt
30.5" tall  75%
22.10 pounds  50%
49.5 head circumference  97%

Holt is 12 Months!!

So, we had a pretty busy month and I kind of neglected to write down your achievements from this last month.  And since I am writing this on the eve of your 13th month, that doesn't help much either.

Here's what I can say in all certainty...

Not much changed this month.  You're getting better at standing unassisted.  You're up to twenty seconds or so without falling down.  You like to practice walking while holding on to both of my hands.

You've become a bit of a food snob.  You no longer eat bananas.  I guess I've fed you too many of them over the last few months.  However, you love to throw the chopped up pieces on the floor.  Your brothers think it is hilarious.  In fact, this is what you do with all of your meal-time offerings that you decide not to eat.

You are drinking a few whole milk bottles a week as I am beginning to wean me and you from breastmilk.  You don't seem to care one bit which I'm not going to lie, saddens me a little.  However, it is great that this transition is easy for you.

You have perfected the 'stink eye'.  You are constantly furrowing your brow at things/people/situations that displease you.  I'm afraid that I taught you this because that was one of my silly faces that I used to flash you.  I just hope it doesn't sink all the way into your personality.  That could cost you a lot in therapy down the road.  Oops!

You're still a Mommy-addict.  We're in the process of searching for care groups to curb this pattern of behavior.  (sarcasm, people)  No really, but we are researching some kind of child seat hip implant.  We figured that would save my arms from falling off having to hold you all the time.  Unfortunately, the implant is only available on the black market as of yet.  Something about the titanium coating on the four inch bolts, that are manufactured in Taiwan, which have the ability to cause dysentery.

You're still not talking.  Not even Mama or Dada.  You make those sounds when you're babbling but it doesn't mean anything, yet.  Everything is 'eh' or 'uh'.  And if you really, really want something, it's 'eh, eh, eh".  I can't wait for verbal skills!  Well, at least, 'Mama'.

I guess I did a good job remembering afterall!  Your Dad and I, along with all your brothers, love you so, so very much.  We are so blessed to have you in our family.  I can't believe this first year has come and gone so quickly.  We look forward to this next year as we really get to see your personality begin to blossom.  You will learn to navigate the world on two feet and to speak up for yourself.  And trust me, around here, that is very important!  This next year will be full of so much adventure.  Just wish there was a way to slow it all down.

You are wonderful in every way and there is nothing your Dad or I would change about you!

Huey-ism: Bedtime Prayer

Houston said the bedtime prayer tonight.  He thanked God for important things like his brothers and Pokemon.  Then he said this jewel that melts a parent's heart...

"God, you are such an awesome God.  I don't think I could ever figure out how to make an elephant or a giraffe!"

Huey-ism: Finds from Schoolwork

At some point every week, each boy brings home about 500 sheets of paper with schoolwork for us to "keep at home".  I pilfer through it all and pick only the greatest of treasures to hold onto, since we'd have to rent a decent sized storage unit to keep it all.

This week, Houston's work, in the most classical Houston way, contained these golden nuggets...

Exhibit A
Apparently, he read a story in class that was set in a baseball field.  The main characters were Dad, Mom, and Ronald Morgan. The question on the school work read, "My favorite part was..."  To which Houston answered, "Win Ronald hit his Dad in the knee with a ball."

Nevermind a sweet family sharing an American pasttime.  Bodily harm.  The kid loves it. 

Exhibit B
I presume with the arrival of Fall, his class is discussing things related to the new season.  He brought home a list of three things he would do if he were a scarecrow.
   1.  scare the crows away dy making scary 'fases' (he still mixes up d's and b's)
   2.  watch the pumpkins so they would be safe
   3.  Make a 'nuter' scarecrow so I d't do all the wock
     Translation of #3:  Make another scarecrow so I don't do all the work
     (we have some trouble recognizing r sounds and haven't quite grasped all the acceptable contractions yet)

But the funniest thing is that he would replicate himself to share the work with.  But that is Houston in his purest form.  He is more the foreman/bossy/supervisory type.  However, boy's got a point, I mean, hanging on a stalk is exhausting and guaranteeing the safety of pumpkins is serious business!

Hawk-ism: Aging

This morning Hawkins, Holt, and I had the wooden block letters and numbers set out.  We like to practice learning with them.  He made a line of six blocks and wanted me to teach them to him.  Only one of his chosen blocks was blue.  I started with the block closest to me, which was not blue, "This is a 'V'.  V is for Victor."

Hawk:  No, Mom!  You have to start with the 'boo' one.  Always start with the 'boo' one first!
Me:  Okay.  The blue one is a 2.
Hawk:  I know that.  <giggles>
Me:  Are you 2?
Hawk nods his head
Me:  Oh!  I thought you were 3?!
Hawk:  <with head cocked to the side batting his eyelashes and very matter-of-factly>  I growed up!

Holt is 11 Months!!

Oh my goodness!  Just one short month before your first birthday.  I am filled with so much excitement and sadness all at the same time.  I look forward to you growing up because you will begin toddling and babbling.  But I also know that eventually means less cuddling and kissing.

*I guess we can now call you an official crawler.  You very rarely do the belly scoot anymore, just every once in a while when you think you can get somewhere faster salamander-style.

*You have been pulling up on things for forever but now you will let go and balance yourself for as much as three seconds before you drop to your bottom.  We're slightly off track with my goal for you to walk by Halloween.  But, it does seem that you might walk earlier than your older brother, Hawkins, did.  And that is a plus!  Besides, I only want you walking by Halloween because you can show off your costume better when you're not crammed in a stroller or wrapped around my hip.

*So I'm still totally your favorite.  Sadly, I haven't seen much plus to this fact.  It means you crawl all around the house hunting me down when I leave your sight.  Which, okay, is completely adorable.  Until you find me, that is.  As soon as you spot me, you instantly want to be held.  You make your wishes well known (commence incessant crying until baby gets what he wants).  Mind you, there is a room full of brothers and Daddy, any of whom would love to hold you, that you pass right by.  It's so severe now that if your brothers pull you two inches away from me, you immediately bust out.  If they put you right back, you immediately quit.

*You've learned to drink from a straw, which you now believe entitles you to anyone's drink with a straw.  And when you are denied things, such as Coke, you get very upset.  One day, I did cave and let you have some of my soda but you hated it and spit it right out.

*You love to play Pete and Repeat.  Basically, you make a noise, such as "eh" and then one of your audience members will repeat it in the exact same manner and pitch as you.  And we continue on and on.  It's so cute that it hasn't come close to getting old.

*You really kinda need a haircut.  But your precious hair is still so baby fine that I feel as though length = thickness and a trim would set us back a few months in the density department.

*When we go down to the park, you like to swing but you absolutely love, love, love to slide.  You like to attempt crawling up the baby slide.  Surprisingly enough, when you're in shorts, your feet/knees/hands are gummy enough that you can actually make it about halfway up.  But your favorite is sliding down, especially when Houston slides with you down the big tunnel slide.  When you reach the bottom, you giggle and squeal with joy.  I imagine that in a few months your squeal will be followed with "again, again!"

*You get into everything!  You leave a little wake of destruction behind you.  While your big brothers are at school, Hawkins loves to play with you.  He shares his super heroes / builder tools / trucks / anything that he's playing with at the moment.  He talks to you and tells you how to play correctly.  He also lets you know when you are not doing it right.  When your big bubbies come home, however, you get left on the side of the road.  All bets are off.  But that's when Houston swipes you up and loves and adores you.  Hayes always makes sure to come give you a hug and kiss.

*Have I mentioned yet that you poop all the time?!  Like, I sing praises when the diaper isn't dirty because it is such a rarity.

*You wake promptly between 6:30-7:00am every morning without fail.  Unless you're at Grammy's, of which your 9am mornings are of no benefit to me.  Anywho, you and Hawkins entertain each other for a good ten minutes before he makes his morning debut.  Then, I begin heating your bottle.  Once it is ready, I hand it to you and for the next 30 minutes, you are held captive in your crib.  You see, from 7:00-7:30am is massive chaos trying to get your big brothers dressed, fed, backpacked, and out the door to catch the bus.  If I set you free, there is too much commotion going on to drink your bottle!  Also, you always wake up with a stinkie and I literally do not have two extra minutes to stop and change you to avoid the potential for leakage onto the carpet.  Hence, confinement to the crib.  Some mornings you comply, other mornings you protest.

Holt is 10 Months!!

Since at your nine month check-up, your weight was calculated in the 25th percentile, your grandparents have made it their personal mission to fatten you up.  You've always looked thick and healthy but apparently, they believe that the numbers don't lie.  I'll bet you've gained at least two pounds in the last month, all courtesy of your loving grandparents.

When anyone says "Yaaaay!" you clap and then immediately smile, the big open mouthed one.

You now have two more top teeth which makes for a grand total of six teeth.

You have the most adorable little smirk face.  You squint your eyes, scrunch your nose, and grin ear to ear.

You're really starting to get around on two legs, with the assistance of a table, couch, etc.  You still aren't completely crawling on your knees yet, but you are beginning to use that mode of travel more and more.

You played peek-a-boo for the first time the other day.  It doesn't really count, since I was not around to witness it.  However, your Grammy, Papaw, and Daddy all insist that it happened and say it was the cutest thing ever!

You're officially an omnivore and now eat things like Lasagna with Meat Sauce, Chicken Noodle Dinner, and Ham with Pineapple.  You can eat an entire banana in one sitting.  We have yet to find something that you do not like.  You are such an eater!

I Have a Confession...

We've lived in our home for eight years and I've never mopped the floors.  EVER!  Come to think of it, I've never mopped any floor.  Ever!  Now don't gross out on me just yet.

You see, the United States Coast Guard equipped my husband with many skills, some more practical than others.  For instance, scarfing down a meal in thirty seconds flat and blowing up a toilet with a single firecracker, not so much.  Rescuing a drowning swimmer and scaling a light pole are skills that could possibly be useful but haven't been thus far.  My Coastie can pack a mean suitcase and tie some serious knots.  However, it's the mopping floors and cleaning bathrooms, that I completely exploit, even though he has a tendency to use way too much bleach (also courtesy of the good ole USCG).

I've posted before how Adam, with his back injury, is not able to do much beyond lie on the couch.  In his absence, Holt has really risen to the occasion in cleaning the kitchen tile.  He continues to do a decent job with his onesie.  What he lacks in thoroughness and effectiveness, he more than makes up for in persistence.

Needless to say, the floors have been haunting me for weeks.  With a family of six, and all but me are boys, the floors probably should have been haunting me for months.  But hey, I'm all about honesty here and it has only been a few weeks.  The slate stares at me with big googly eyes and tauntingly laughs at me.  You know the monster type laugh, "moo hoo ha ha ha".  And increasingly so everytime Holt chased me through the kitchen.

It was well beyond time to tackle the domesticated skill of mopping.  After scooting around the floor, inch by inch, scraping mashed in who-knows-what from all the crevices for nearly an hour, I was ready to mop.  I sought instruction from Mr. Couch Potato and ended up mopping the floor twice.  I could have mopped a third time since the water was still a little brown but I was exhausted!

We left for a late afternoon swim at my parents before I got a good look at the finished product.  By nightfall, I explained to my parents that I was anxious to go home and just stare at my kitchen floor.  Can you tell I was proud of myself?!  So proud that I considered serving breakfast on the floor the next morning, but decided against it.  That would mean mopping it again.  And I'm not looking forward to doing that in the next few months weeks, even though I'm no longer intimidated by the monster.

Holt is 9 Months!!

You are getting dangerously close to 1, big boy.  It still feels like yesterday that you were brand new.

You weigh 19lb 2oz, which no one would have guessed is only in the 25% since you look pretty chunky to all of us.  You are 28.5" which is in the 65% and no drumroll required, your head is above the 97%.

You now have 4 teeth which turns out is the minimum amount required for grinding.  Definitely not one of my favorite things that you do lately.

Along with the grinding, you are also growling/grunting.  This is definitely one of your more hilarious skills.  You growl for lots of reasons, but especially when food is not coming to your mouth fast enough.

You're still crawling with your tummy on the ground.  You have taken a few "steps" with your tummy off the ground, but nowhere near enough to say that you are officially crawling.  And occasionally, you will go from lying on your tummy to sitting.

You are pulling up on everything!  You love playing on the Leap Frog learning table.  It is just the perfect size and all the jingles and lights keep you thoroughly entertained.

You can now wave.  Whenever we tell you "Hi!" you smile and wave with one of your hands, open palmed with hand moving up and down.  Of course you never perform on cue, like when trying to show one of the grandparents.  Your wave also happens to be your one and only dance move thus far.  Every time you hear music playing, you start waving that hand.

You LOVE to eat.  If we're not feeding you fast enough, you do this clearing throat/machine gun noise "uh uh uh uh" followed by slapping the table three or four times.  You've moved in at the dinner table and you sit right next to me.  If those hints don't work, you lean over with your gooey hands and either grab and pull my shirt or pinch my arm.  Also, not one of my most favorite things you are doing lately.

You've not been the best napper this month.  Most days you refuse to take a second nap.  You're still too young to drop that second nap and Mommy really enjoys/relies on your second nap.  So can we bring it back this month, please?  When you wake up, whether from the night or from a nap, you do your best to shove the empty bottle through the rails of the crib and then you toss your pacifier out of the bed.

29

You might ask, so how does one celebrate her birthday when her husband is incapable of doing anything but this all day?:

 On birthday eve, while picking up groceries to cook your favorite items the next day, you spot flowers on special.  Roses are not your fave, but for $3, they'll do and will give a sense of birthday cheer in the house.  You splurge on a case of 4 Starbucks Frappucino and a 6 pack of Snapple Peach Tea.

You stay up much, much later than you anticipated baking a cake for yourself.  Since you've been on a crazy almond kick lately, you dump a bottle and a half of almond extract into your homemade buttercream a half teaspoon at a time, in efforts to achieve a strong almond flavor, which actually just ends up making the frosting taste funky.

Since your husband was supposed to have back surgery the day before your birthday, he had your presents wrapped and on the table for two days now, which he begged you incessantly to go ahead and open.  However, you stayed true to your convictions because a birthday doesn't feel like a birthday if you have no presents to open on your big day.  Therefore, on birthday morning, his impatience could wait no longer.  So after being permitted to sleep in until 8 a.m., you are greeted with a bed full of boys, grins, and presents!

You love all of your gifts because your husband is the most thoughtful gift giver and remembers everything that you ever said you loved/wanted.  You love the new crackle nail polishes, in pirate theme no less, as well as the new beads for your bracelet - a skull and crossbones and a Celtic cross.  And you totally bust out the tears when you open this breathtaker:

That's a handpainted plate by my hubby of my favorite Van Gogh.

 After present time, it's on to breakfast, which just so happens to be your favorite meal of the day.  So much so that you are considering serving it again for dinner.  (It is your birthday.)  Waffles, hashbrowns, applewood smoked bacon (another birthday splurge), and it wouldn't be your birthday breakfast without something pumpkin or cinnamon.  Because you could not find canned pumpkin in the middle of Summer, despite multiple failed attempts, you whip up, from scratch, some french toast muffins you found on Pinterest instead.  However, don't bother next time.  The eyes feasted way more on these than the palate.

While you're deep in the thresholds of meal preparation, your parents call to wish you 'Happy Birthday', and you invite them to the feast.  You're excited that they agreed to join you, and wish the in-laws were in town so they could also attend.

You left no counterspace unharmed in the making of said meal, (refer to exhibit #4 on the right) and you were totally content with leaving the mess until your un-birthday.  But you have the sweetest Mom in the world who insisted on cleaning it up and then proceeded to fold some laundry and clean a bathroom.  Yes, you can all be jealous of my awesome mother.

You then pack up everyone, except for the hubby, to head over to cool down with a swim.  Some were more happy to be there than others, which directly correlates to the truth that some require more sleep (aka naps) than others.

You wrap the day up with a Papa Murphy's pizza and head to bed without doing the following, which were all on your birthday to-do list:

A. Blogging

B. Napping

C. Watching Beauty & the Beast with your home full of boys (You're brutal with your birthday requests, obviously)

D. Indulging in a slice of cake (you still haven't finished decorating your cake yet)

The next day, you do catch a nap and enjoy a slice of cake with a scoop of the best vanilla ice cream on the planet.  And as it turns out, your funky almond icing is actually not bad when paired with the sour cream almond cake.  Your doped up hubby had difficulty waking from his late nap so he missed out on the festivities.  It's just you and your boys.  It was a wonderful birthday weekend, despite all the sarcasm that may have led you to believe otherwise.  29 was truly awesome!  Stay tuned for my '30 before 30' list!

Proverbs 3:24

...and thy sleep shall be sweet.

Growing Up, Almost

Hawkins has only a few inanimate loves in life and they are as follows:

Candy
Scooby-Doo (which has recently replaced Dora the Explorer)
Frog BB (his blanket)

When Hawkins was just nine months old, he traded his bottle for a sippy cup on his own accord and rather suddenly.  One day he was downing a bottle and the next he refused it.  The same goes for his pacifier.  At around fourteen months, he traded his pacifier for a blanket.  It started off where any blanket would suffice, especially a fleece taggie blanket.  But after a month or so, he had chosen his favorite and from then on, only "Frog BB" would do.

For the last two years, Frog BB has gone everywhere with us.  He has been on multiple road trips, several hospital stays, subjected to hundreds of baths, and thousands of naps.

Adam and I had been discussing for months when we should take away Hawk's security blanket.  If he only snuggled with it, we'd have no problem with him keeping Frog BB indefinitely.  However, he sucks on it, which he calls "chewing".  His older brothers did not have a pacifier beyond 2 1/2.  Here Hawk is nearly 3 1/2.

I tried for about a week, as I tucked him in each night, to convince him to just cuddle with frog bb.  "Don't put him in your mouth."  Hawkins would sweetly nod and agree, though he didn't understand why.  Sure enough, he would "chew" on it all through the night.  (See here for one of my attempts to talk him out of chewing on his blanket.)  I knew talking him out of it would be futile and unsuccessful but I couldn't bring myself to remove what Hawkins loved most.  Frog BB was like a member of our family!

The three big boys slept over at Grammy and Papaw's house and we decided it was time.  Adam "hid" him up on the top shelf of Holt's closet, which also happens to be in Hawkins' room.  The next night, when we were putting him to bed, he asked for Frog BB but we told him that his blanket had disappeared and we couldn't find it.

He was slightly upset, but went to bed fine without it.  Over the next few days, each morning I found a substitute in Hawk's bed.  We figured since Hawkins was faithful to just the one blanket for two years, there would be no replacement.  Apparently, his addiction was a bit more serious than we had anticipated.

It wasn't but a few days later and the boys discovered Frog BB.  It was as though they had uncovered a sunken ship filled with buried treasure.  "Mommy!  Mommy!  Mommy!"  They all bolted into the living room with such joy and excitement.  "We found Frog BB!  He wasn't lost, he was just at the top of the closet!"  It never occurred to them that his location might have been a bit more intentional than coincidental.

Perhaps all Hawkins needed was a bit of a hiatus to realize that he doesn't need anything in his mouth to sleep.  Hawkins now continues to sleep with his beloved Frog BB but he no longer chews on him.  In fact, some nights he has not even noticed that his favorite blanket is not in his bed with him.  Truth be told, I'm kind of glad that Frog BB is still around and not in anyone's mouth.

Noodles & Green Beans

This brings a whole new meaning to the old adage, "You're not getting down until you've finished your plate."

Now don't look at me like that.  I know for a fact that all of you have done the same thing.  It wasn't like we were torturing the poor kid with livers and squash.  It was a botched fettuccine alfredo recipe which turned out to be glorified butter noodles.  And Hayes is all about some butter noodles, just not these, for some crazy reason.  They were served with a side of fresh green beans, which is my children's vegetable of choice.

He nibbled on his lunch while we all enjoyed it.  Then, he sat there staring at his plate as we all got down.  After a few reminders that he was not getting down until he finished his plate, he just curled up in the hard wooden chair and took a nap.

Needless to say, when he woke, I showed him some compassion and gave him some mercy.  The kid took a nap at the dinner table!

Look What I Can Do!

 Ta Da!

Forgive my fuzzy pictures.  Daddy was letting Mommy sleep in when he discovered my new trick.  Daddy doesn't quite know how to work Mom's camera but wanted to capture the moment for her anyway.  And if it looks like I was wailing, I was.  You see, I didn't understand when Daddy opened the door to rescue me, why he turned around and hurriedly left.  But as you can tell, once he returned and I figured out what was going on, I even "said cheese."

Hawk-ism: Chewing On Frog BB

Hawkins' creature comfort at bedtime is his Frog BB, which is just a fleece blanket with frogs on it.  He sucks on it every night instead of a pacifier and has so for years.  However, he refers to this action as "chewing."  Frog BB has been confined to Hawk's bed for some time now.

For several nights, I had unsuccesfully tried to convince Hawkins to just snuggle with his blanket, rather than put it in his mouth.  "Your brothers do not put their blankets in their mouths," I would explain.  I knew it was asking the impossible of him but that didn't keep me from asking.

Me:  Goodnight, Hawk-man.
Hawkins:  Night, Night, Mommy.
<bedtime kisses>
Hawkins:  Please I chew on Frog BB now?
Me:  No, buddy.
Hawkins:  Why not?  I just chew on him when you shut the door!

Lizards

Does anyone else have a problem with lizards in their home?  When I was a kid, I loved searching  for lizards but very rarely ever found one.  My kids, on the other hand, are about sick of seeing lizards, mostly because we make them pick them up.

The cat always finds them first, we suspect sometime in the middle of the night.  The next morning, we find the tail before we ever spot the lizard.  They're always the same species of lizard but their size varies.  We did actually have one that was a good six inches long.  However, most of them are smaller than my pinkie finger.

We had two or three last summer and it was about the time that my brother and his wife returned our carpet cleaner to us.  We blamed them for our infestation of reptiles.  Since we haven't loaned them anything since, and we've had nearly a half dozen lizards this year, I guess it's safe to say Uncle Shep is not the culprit.

Highlights of Independence Weekend

* We caught a fireworks show the weekend before the 4th.
The boys and I met my Mom out behind the property of the biggest church in our area so we could catch "the bootleg" version of their show (aka not get stuck in their parking lot traffic for 30 minutes).

*  Hawkins caught Fifth Disease so he looked pretty sketchy.  Fortunately, no one else got it.  Did you know it's no longer contagious once you see the rash?  That's great!

* We swam to stay cool.

*  Our air conditioning at home gave out so we moved in with my parents until we could get it fixed.

*  So we swam some more.

*  We hung out with the Schwartz family on Monday.
We had some awesome shrimp and scallops!  And how could I forget the apple pie a la mode (both homemade) and both to die for, courtesy of Natalie.

God Bless America!