Today I will share with you that I am thankful for crude humor in our house.  I know it sounds awful to be thankful for that, but it really does crack me up.  It’s also God’s safeguard for me to keep me from a.) going insane over potty humor and b.) smacking little people. 

God is so good. As you can see from choice b., He keeps me from getting in trouble with the law.

This was the conversation this morning.  DS#1 is going to school for the first day this week because he has had the dreaded flu. 

DS#1, “That nap Grandma made me take really made me feel better.”

DS#2, “I know what you mean.” giggle giggle

DS#1, “What?”

DS#2, “You toot when you sleep and that probably made your tummy feel better.” louder giggles

DS#1, “I don’t do that.” said whilst laughing in a near uncontrollable state

DS#2, “Yes you do.” raucous laughter and all hope of containing the situation is gone.

DS#2 had another discussion about toots last week.  He was home with me last week because had a sinus infection. 

Before I knew he had a sinus infection, I took him to the dr. in the big city. 

My momma happened to be in the big city.  We met up at Baskin Robbins to get some ice cream to make DS#2’s throat feel better.  It made us feel better too.  We sat in the car together and ate our ice cream.

I must divulge what happened there.  I passed gas.  DS#2 thought it was gross, but cool – because he’s a boy.  There’s a point to this.  Really. 

Later, he told me he missed his daddy and was going to write him.  I said, “Awwwww.  I think that is so thoughtful.”

DS#2 brought me three pages he’d written and stapled together to make a book for his Daddy. 

Isn’t that adorable?

I read the following:  Daddy i missed you today.  We ate ice cream in Grandma’s car and mommy tooted.  (page 1)

You are the best. (page 2)

I like you the most. (page 3)

And that was the end of the story.  I’ll have to take pictures of it and post them on here tomorrow so you too can share in the glow of honesty and love that children possess. 

It just touched my heart that he would want to share the day with his dad like that. 

These are what real family momments are made of people!

And for this, I’m thankful.

Blessings & Hugs, Elizabeth

OK.  So yesterday after I posted about the pigs I live with, I went to a bloggy friend’s blog and found out it is National Blog Posting Month.  She said if you live on planet Earth you probably already know that about November.  

You know, our heavenly father says we’re not of this world, so I’m going to go with that since I was not aware of this national event.

Every day, if you choose to participate, you’re supposed to post about something you’re thankful for. 

Well, to make sure, I momentarily left here to look it up and it just says you post every day for a month, but I like the thankful twist so I’m going to go  with it.  

Would you like to take bets on if I can do it? 

Shame on me!  I don’t gamble and I sure don’t want to encourage you to do so. 

Just take guesses.

Maybe I’ll surprise us all.

Today I am thankful for just being here.  I really do feel blessed by the life that God has allowed me to lead.  It has not been one without any trouble or strife, but then again, what kind of life would that be?  You know, it’s the bumps and bruises that make us appreciate everything else.  They also contribute to my somewhat twisted sense of humor that I enjoy.  I think some of you enjoy it too. 

Today, DS#1 is not so well, but my mama is helping me out by taking care of him. 

Another “Thankful”!

Thank you Mommy!

Wow!  I think I could really get on a roll here, but then what would I do for the next 26 days? 

Would you like to join me and respond to things you’re thankful for during NaBloPoMo? 

NaBloPoMo is what those who are in the know call National Blog Posting Month.  

Do you think I’m cool now? 

I think I’m cool now.  Does that count? 

Blessings & Hugs, Elizabeth

I realize that Halloween was four days ago, but in remaining true to form, I’m late.   

I thought I would share the costumes that were worn by the boys.  We started out thinking they would be the Three Musketeers, but the closer it came, the more it seemed like a ton of work.  Since I’m a procrastinater, it became overwhelming. 

Maybe if I start on it now for next year . . . . . . .

Then, as DS#1 was discussing my lack of initiation on the project, he said his friend suggested the boys be The Three Little Pigs.

Brilliant!

I could picture it all in my mind.  I knew exactly what I would us for the ears, nose, tail, and everything in between. 

Here they are.

They look a little pitiful, don’t they?

Well anyway, it occurred to me later that night that I really do live with three little piggies.  I’d show you the living room floor or their room, but I just can’t bring myself to do it.  It would pain me.  It would pain you too.

Have a great one!

Blessings & Hugs, Elizabeth

Sometimes sorry just isn’t good enough – is it?  Well, it seems to me that I am constantly telling you that I haven’t been here for this reason or that, but the real truth is I haven’t made what I say are my priorities a priority. 

Was the above sentence even near grammatically correct?  I shudder to think what would happen if I stopped to break it down.  Therefore, I won’t.

So, do you all ever find yourselves in this dilemma?

I told my BFF the other day that I think I’ve been this way since shortly after DS#3 was conceived – 5 1/2 yrs ago.  I believe it’s brain damage and I believe it’s a genetic defect that I have passed on to my offspring.

Poor babies.  They don’t stand a chance. Pray for them sisters!

Back to the issue at hand.  I seem to have been plagued with a lack of commitment, follow through and general irresponsibility. 

I know. 

It’s bad. 

I have neglected my house, my finances, my body, sometimes my hubby, sometimes study time with the kiddos, personal time with the kiddos, study time with my sweet Jesus and very sadly, my blog.  These are in no particular order, by the way. 

Yep.  I’m a bad, bad girlie.

Now, I know I’ve been down this road with you before.  The road that reveals every pothole and crack in my life.  The road that needs milled and resurfaced, not just repaired and patched. 

Is your road rough?

I think I’m in desperate need of transformation.  I also may need to alter my expectations, but that’s a conversation for another time.

This is what I want for my family and my house and myself.  I want a picked up house.  I want the people in my house to help each other with dishes, clothes and dusting and vacuuming.  I want to go to the bathroom without having to see if the toilet seat has dribbles.  I want to allow myself ample time in the morning to do meditation, prayer and exercise.  I want to have a family night and a weekly family devotional.  I want to teach my children, but example, that when you give to others, you get so much more back. I want to have dinner at the table with conversation, real conversation, instead of telling people, “Noises that mimic bodily functions are not acceptable while eating!”  I want to have a budget that reflects what’s really important to my family.  I really truly want to write for someone besides myself.  I want to unleash my crafty creative side.  I want to be 2 sizes smaller.  I want to be my hubby’s help mate and support.

Good gracious!  That’s a lot of wants.

More than all of those listed above, I want to be in the center of God’s will for my life and remain steadfast in my devotion to Him.  I’m cheating Him, and He doesn’t approve.  If I could get it through my thick skull, when I cheat Him, I’m really cheating myself.

So, at what point do you feel desperate enough to put the pedal to the metal? When do your feet go walkin’ where your mouth’s been talkin’?  When does the rubber hit the road?

Any other sayings you’d like to add?

I’ve made these confessions before.  I’ve even professed to repent, but my repentance has repented and I find myself back in the same hole, but a bit deeper.

I want order for my family and myself.  I want the order that God promises when we follow Him.  I’m not so naive to think my life will fall into place and I’ll never have another problem.  I do know that I won’t have the worry and fret that accompany problems. 

Hmmmm. 

Maybe I should force you all to be my accountability partners.  I think my situation is such that it requires more than one person to bear this load. It’s a pretty heavy load and my mom will tell you it’s no picnic.  It’s not for the the faint of heart my friends.

Should I post a weekly goal and have you check in? 

That doesn’t sound like fun. 

Maybe a year long experiment?

We’ll see.  Maybe.

What’s your road look like?  Is it basically smooth at this point in your life or do you need a bail out plan to fix it?  Do you feel your life is revealing to others what you say is important?

Blessings & Hugs, Elizabeth

This is DS#3. 

He started kindergarten this year.

He has had a hard time with learning the letters of his alphabet.  He’s already in an early intervention program to help.  Because of this program, he was screened at school for his hearing and vision.  The nurse called me to say that my baby failed his vision exam.  I said, OK, we’ll get him checked out.  We did so that weekend and as you can see,  he can now see. 

My poor baby could’ve had all the extra help and one on one intervention the world offers, but it wouldn’t have done him a bit of good because he couldn’t see it. 

Now, I don’t want you to think he’s been stumbling around and walking into doors for the past five years.  He has had his share of accidents, but nothing really out of the ordinary.  Unless you count those four fractures in one year, but the nice people at child and family services came to the conclusion that it was not our fault.  Rest easy in knowing we do not beat our children – even if it may seem like a good idea sometimes. 

Just kidding!

Really.

Seriously.

So when DS#3 was in getting his eye exam, the Dr. told me he had astigmatism in both eyes.  Apparently this can be in one or both eyes.  If you are not aware, it causes those who have it to see things with a distorted view.  Things just aren’t in focus.

But you know what?  If you’ve never seen clearly, you don’t know what the difference is. 

He got the glasses on Saturday, but really wore them for the first time on Sunday.  We went to my mom’s house after church on Sunday.  The boys were playing on their scooters in the driveway while we talked in her living room.  I looked outside and saw DS#3 lying on his back, in the grass, under a tree.  He was intently gazing up.  It occurred to me that he really hasn’t seen the leaves on trees before.  It simply looked like one big green puff ball on the top of the trunk.  I was excited for him to discover new things, but saddened that he’s missed out up until now.

This all prompted me to think about my Christian walk.  Isn’t this the way we are before we find Jesus?  Don’t we too have a distorted view of the world?  Do we know what we’re missing out on seeing?

Even though I’ve been walking with Jesus for 20 years, I know there are seasons where my view becomes distorted again.  I don’t believe to the extent it was before, but none the less, there’s distortion.  It is so easy to look at the world through the eyes of the worldly. 

Isn’t it?

The eye doctor said that we would have to come back every few months for the first year because DS#3’s prescription would change that often.  He said the lenses would retrain his brain/eyes to see without distortion.

Hmmmmm.

Let my prayer be today that God retrain my brain to see His plans, His calling, His world without distortion.  Let me see it clearly, Lord.

Blessings & Hugs, Elizabeth

Do any of you lose one shoe?

I mean, we all lose socks.

Right? 

We know it’s the dryer that loses them.  There’s some mysterious time space continuum that goes on in the belly of a dryer.  When one closes the dryer door, I’m apt to think a door opens up in the back side and there are little dryer gremlins that decide which pair of socks will no longer have mates.  I also think they sometimes smudge a stain here and there on a shirt or pair of pants. 

So, it is universally understood that socks do not stay together because the dryer, or some entity associated with the dryer, eats them.

Right?

Right.

Now, about the shoe situation.  I don’t believe there are shoe gremlins in the back of my closet.  My main reasoning here is that my shoes rarely end up in my closet.  (I’m disorganizationally challenged.)  I do know that I take my shoes off  in pairs – usually by the couch or in the bathroom.  (it depends on which place I sit first)  I take them off and physically see that there is a pair of shoes setting off to the side of where I last sat.

I do have a problem with my boys taking off with my shoes.  They think it’s fun to wear them.  No, I’m not too concerned because they also think toilet humor is king.  I don’t wear a very big size, so they can easily take off in them and they do. 

And I then have difficulties figuring out where they went. 

 And they never seem to remember where they left them because which ever son I’m speaking with assures me repeatedly that he was not the last person to have my shoes. 

And then I will find one, but not the other – for days – sometimes weeks – maybe months.

This was my dilemma yesterday morning.  All I wanted was one pair of brown shoes with a bit of heel to go with my outfit.  Should I have planned this the night before?  Well, yes, but I will again repeat that I am organizationally challenged. 

I could find one of my brown heels, one sling back and one of my heeled mules. 

I looked under the couch, beds, in closets other than my own, the bathrooms, the playroom and corners of the kitchen.  I even sent the little darlins’ off to help search.  It was no surprise when they turned up empty handed.

I did have a pair of brown flats, that looked a little dorky, that I wore because I had no other choice and the only other option was to change my clothes.  ( I did laundry last night, so that was not an option either.)

I have decided that I’m suspending all TV and eating of meals and snacks until my shoes are paired together again.  I think this will encourage the little darlins’ to remember a little better and maybe look a little harder.

Anyone else have this problem?

(crickets chirping)

Anyone?

(deafening silence)

OK then.  You all have a great day!

Blessings & Hugs, Elizabeth

This past weekend, the family plus my mama, went on a day trip.  My mama’s bday is Oct. 4th and she said she wanted us all to go to William Henry Harrison’s home in Vincennes.  I’ll tell you he was the Governor of the North West Territory and our 9th President so you aren’t frantically searching through the recesses of your mind.  I know you would have come up with it eventually, I just thought if I told you, I could get back to my story. 

Thank me later.

This is what you do when your mama is a retired 5th grade teacher.  She ate, slept and breathed American history.  I’m not saying this is a bad thing.  I quite enjoy history myself.  I’m just saying things like this make her heart flutter. 

It was a small thing to do for her, considering all she does for us, to make her heart flutter for her birthday.

We started out from our house to go pick her up at her house – a mere two minutes in travel time – and I could see there were going to be issues if  I didn’t nip them in the bud.  All three boys had to sit in the back seat.

Yes, together, as in next to each other and touching each other.

DS#1 has found great delight in knowing how to make his brothers unhappy.  This makes me unhappy.  His father is none to happy about the situation either. 

It began.  Not 10 seconds into our trip, and it began.

I turned around in my seat and in my best “I’m serious” voice said, “DS#1, I am telling you that you will not behave this way today!  You will make it a point to get along!  If you do not, you may consider your life in peril when we get home.  Do you understand?”

DS#3, “That means you’re in deep doo.”

DS#3 didn’t miss a beat. 

 The baby started kindergarten this year and he’s still not completely sure about which letter is A, B or C, but he knows what the word peril means.   Because I’m his mama, I find it impressive.

This isn’t us at William Henry Harrison’s home.  It’s us at the George Roger’s Clark Memorial, also in Vincennes.  Please don’t confuse George with William Clark of Lewis & Clark.

Thank you.  My mother will appreciate it.

Here’s a pic of the kiddos that I’ve recently fallen in love with.  DS#3 is on DD’s back.  You can just tell that he’s going to have an extensive vocabulary – don’t you think?

Blessings & Hugs, Elizabeth

How could anyone be bored with kiddos in their house?  It’s beyond me.  Then again, there are quite a few things that are beyond me, but that’s for another post. 

Yesterday I was sitting at the computer with DS#2 hanging over me.  He waiting for his turn at the computer – not so patiently.  I couldn’t help but notice his breath. 

Yuk, yuk and double yuk!

I turned to him and said, “Aaron, you didn’t brush your teeth this morning.  Why?”

DS#2, “I don’t know.  I forgot?”

Me, “You didn’t forget.  I told you. Listen, honey, I had a friend that I grew up with that had horrible oral hygiene.  I don’t think he ever brushed his teeth and his breath smelled awful!  Other kids made fun of him and he never did have a girlfriend in high school.  I’m pretty sure it’s because of his breath.  He had a yuk mouth.  I know you don’t care about girls now, but you should care about your teeth.  You need to brush them every morning and evening before bed. ”

He looked at me.  A smile crept across his face.

DS#2, “I brush them every Monday mom.”

Me, “DS#2!  Do I have to take you to the bathroom and supervise you to make sure it’s done?”

DS#2, “I’m just kidding.  giggle giggle giggle  I brush them more than that.  That was funny, wasn’t it.”  Big Grin

Me, “No, it wasn’t.”  But really, it was. 

Of course, he may only, truly brush his teeth on Monday and decided to make it a joke when he saw the terrified/horrified look upon my face.  I’m going to cling to the hope that he was being clever. 

Then there was later in the day – around dinner time – DS#2 came into the kitchen and gave my bottom a “love tap”.  Then he decided to act like he was playing the drums on my bottom.  Oh what fun.

I told him to stop it.  I told him to stop it several times.  It’s hard to be serious with this boy, because as I have stated before, his laugh is carbonated joy.  It is so infectious and just bubbles up from his toes and spills out over his vocal chords, out his mouth and continues upward – straight to Heaven, where I’m sure the angels smile when they hear it too.

Yep – I love this kid.

Anywho – I said, “Why do you do that????”

DS#2, “It’s fun!”  Big Semitoothless Grin”

Me, “What is fun about beating my behind?”

DS#2, “I like to watch your bottom jiggle.”

I still love him, just not as much after his candid answer. 

Maybe that’s what I get back for telling him his breath stinks. 

Possibly I should let this inspire me into getting rock hard buns. 

Or, maybe not.

Blessings & Hugs, Elizabeth

I believe we discovered a new strain of disease in our home the other night.  I’m sure we’re not the first to have it, but we are the first to name it.  To be more specific, DS#2 gets the credit for the name. 

I bet you didn’t know we took science so seriously in our house, but we do my friends.  We really do.

It came on all of the sudden.  DS#1 had crawled behind me on our couch.  I told him, ever so sweetly, to kindly remove himself from my backside for it was making me a tad uncomfortable.  When he did . . . . . well that’s when it started.  He was moving from one place to another and – there’s no delicate way to put this – he passed gas. 

Yes.  I know you find it hard to fathom that crudeness of this nature exists in a home with three boys.  It’s one of our ugly little secrets.  Please don’t chastise us now that you know.

It was then that the epidemic hit our house.  DS#1 couldn’t stop laughing and it caused more passing of gas.  His laughing induced more of the same from DS#2 & DS#3.   

It was horrible to watch.  My poor boys were unable to control their own bodily functions. 

The tragedy that was playing out in my living room was too much for me to bear.

I, myself,  was almost overcome with the fumes.   

(Sob, sob, sob)

Bare with me as I compose myself.  The memory is still so real.  I . . . I  . . . have no words to describe it. 

So in the middle of all this confusion, chaos and suffering, DS#2 had a lucid moment.  He proclaimed, “Mom!  It’s Toot Disease!”

Toot Disease.  Beware my friends.  This is not something to take lightly.

I have found that it is more likely to occur in homes with two or more boys. 

At this very moment I am trying to contact the CDC and warn them. 

When you see it on the evening news, you can shake your head and say, “We knew this was coming because Elizabeth told us.”

Yep.  That’s just the kind of friend I am.

Blessings & Hugs, Elizabeth

I have been a bad wife this year.  I did not get DH a birthday card.  I have given DH a hard time in the past when he did not get me a card.  I didn’t do it to get even.  I have simply been thoughtless and careless in my actions where it is concerned.  (Will your forgive me dear?)

Since I didn’t get him a birthday card, I thought I’d give him a birthday blog.  (I hope this makes up for it, honey.)

I told you about my husband last year on his birthday, but I’d like to add more.

In addition to him making my heart go pitty pat when I witness the tenderness he shows to our kiddos, he has been blessed with more patience than anyone I’ve ever known.

He’s a wonderful mediator with family matters and other matters.

He has a kind and caring and giving heart.

More important than the kind, caring & giving heart is his heart for God.

He has a deep abiding desire to lead his family in a Godly manner.

He is handy around the house.

He is humble and completely underestimates his talents and intellect.

He has the ability to make me feel safe from the world’s ills and untouchable when he wraps his arms around me.

He is a fun Daddy.

He is a fun Hubby, too.

He strives and stretches to grow emotionally. (OK, this probably isn’t a good manly thing to say, but who doesn’t want to feel like their hubby is listening and relating to them?  Hmmmm?  I didn’t think I’d get any lip!)

He just finished teaching The Love Dare to our Sunday School class and it was his idea to do it. 

Now that you’re all jealous, know he’s mine. 

Happy birthday honey!  Thank you for all these things and a few others that I can’t mention because I strive to keep this a family friendly site. Hubba Hubba!

Love, Elizabeth