Why I Try To Say Yes

When kids are little, they often want to do whatever Mom does. We moms must have a real nack for making the mundane look exciting! Sometimes all that "help" can be overwhelming and it's tempting to just do things yourself. But taking a little extra time now to let little ones help can pay big dividends later because they will learn the skills and they are more likely to be willing helpers later if they have been allowed and praised for helping. That's why tonight I let my well meaning 11 year old male dinner tonight (even if it may have been faster to do it myself).  I also let my 2 and 6 year olds "clean"the floors. I will thank myself someday when dinner is on the table and my floors are clean. And even if that dream never becomes a reality, maybe a future spouse can harvest these seeds.

And so it Begins

Here is an actual text conversation with 10 year old Ray.

Done
               Be there soon.  Sam is in the bathroom.
Did not need the bathroom part, or the big text.
               Be there as soon as Sam is done wiping his butt, washing his hands and ready to go.  Theo
               already went potty.  I need to go, but I will wait.
               How's that for too much info/big text? ;)
Did not need that, again.

So what is the first thing he says when we pull up?  "What took you so long?!?"  I tried to tell him. Oh, let the embarrassing of the tween begin!  I've been practicing my whole life for this ;)

Play as Worship?

Sit down, behave.  Can't you just be quiet and listen?  You are embarrassing me.

Let's be honest.  Anyone who has taken children to worship and said things like this, or at the very least thought them.  When I leave worship, I want to feel fed for the week ahead.  Refreshed, renewed.  However, worshipping with children often drains me more.  It's hard work.  When my boys were young, I had thought it would get better as they became school age.  On some Sundays, it is better.  On other Sundays, it's more difficult.

Let's face it, worshipping with children is tough.  It's hard work.  We often wonder if it's worth the effort.  Maybe we should just stay home.  After all, we could just worship on they days that the children can conveniently be carted off to Sunday School.  The attempt to worship in the midst of a fear that your child will rip the pages in the hymnal, ask an inappropriate question too loudly, make you appear like a poor parent, drop a toy into the pew in front of you, laugh/scream/cry during a moment of silence can feel like it isn't worth the effort.

IT IS!!!

In the middle of a Holden Evening prayer service one evening, I was becoming very frustrated with my then 7 and 10 year old boys.  I could understand the 5 and almost 2 year old playing and lack of participation, but surely the two older boys were capable of more.  Yes, we were in an informal setting, yes it was a family style event, but come on boys!  Get out from under the chairs, and quite playing with the battery operated tealight candles.  My frustration and annoyance was peaking and I bent low to tell them to get off the floor and worship with us when I saw what they had been doing. They had taken the extra battery operated tea lights under the chairs and with them built an illuminated cross.  They had huge smiles of accomplishment and asked if I liked their cross.  Later, the 7 year old told me that they built a cross with candles because Jesus is light.

Years before that, one year around Easter, I was shocked when I walked into the playroom to find my then 3 year old pushing over my then 6 month old from a sitting position to the floor.  The baby, popped back up, the 3 year old threw his hands in the air and yelled, "He has risen!  Alleluia!"  and they both exploded into a fit of giggles.  They played "the resurrection game" over, and over, and over that spring.

Let's not forget the times that each of my boys has "baptized" himself or a brother in the bathtub.

What had looked to me like play was them worshipping.  Did their worship look the same as mine?  No, but should it?  The teacher with a master's degree in education knows how important developmentally appropriate learning, not to mention the immense need that children have for hands-on, concrete learning opportunities before they can move to abstract concepts.  The early childhood educator in me is well aware that many children learn best through play and movement.

So why is it that I KNOW all these things and even applied them into my years of experience as a teacher, but fall short when giving my children worship opportunities.  In the last year and half, I have left classroom teaching and now serve as the Director of Faith Formation at our family's church.  This has made me more mindful of trying to provide my children with authentic, age appropriate worship experiences like our family summer worship experience planned with the kids where offering included them choosing a toy to donate, a message delivered by a 9 year old, and where the body and blood of Christ was served to all, including the dogs, in the form of saltine crackers and grape Kool-Aid.  There is no doubt in mind the Jesus was there in our backyard that Sunday morning as much as He was in any sanctuary space.  My children enjoyed our non-traditional yet traditional worship service immensely and look forward to making it a summer tradition.

While our backyard worship was an awe-spiring experience for our family (and Wookie and Ewok, our family dogs), how feasible is it to bring this type of experience to the whole congregation?  If we leave it to parents, how equipped do they feel to plan and lead this type of service themselves?

I can plan and lead the best Sunday School units in the world, the most engaging VBS experience ever and still fall short to give the families I serve what they thirst for. Authentic, engaging, worship opportunities for the family to experience together.  A common experience they could talk about together beyond Sunday morning.  A tool that helps them take their faith beyond Sunday morning, into the rest of their week.  As amazing as that sounds, how on God's great Earth is that ever going to happen?

When I first took my idea to the Pastors and worship coordinator at my church, I suspected there was a good chance it would be shut down.  I was elated when it was embraced and I am ecstatic, but nervous, to have our model of worship go live for a trial run this coming January.  After the holiday season, we will be inviting our whole congregation to worship in multi-generation and interactive style.  We have named this maiden voyage of our interactive worship "January Journey with Jesus".  Beginning with the first Sunday in January, we will journey with Jesus from his infancy through His baptism.

What does it mean to have in interactive worship service?  The best way I can think to describe it as as a Sunday School meets worship collision.  We will begin with traditional worship elements, including gathering music, Word and prayer.  When the service gets to the place where a sermon would normally be, people will be invited to choose from a host of stations.  Each week, people will be able to worship and learn in a way that they are drawn to whether it be creating a craft, trying a science experiment, playing a game, participating a Pastor led discussion about the scripture, doing a crossword or reflecting on a series of images projected.  As our activity time draws to a close, we will regather as a community to round out our worship experience with more traditional worship elements including Holy Communion, music and a blessing.

As I mentioned, I am eager, ecstatic and also quite nervous to try this style of worship with our whole congregation.  I am praying that God will help us all to keep open minds while giving us faith like a child so we too can be drawn closer to Him through this process while also inviting the youngest worshippers closer too.

The Art of a Deep Breath

Hi. My name is Billie Jo.  And I may have some OCD tendencies.  (I can hear my mom snort and say "May?" as she reads this.)

Pre-kids, I had it.  I had it bad.  Of course I denied it to myself as I wiped the bathroom counter down every morning.  As child after child has been born, I have had to learn to let more and more things go.  And as those babies grew into toddlers.  I let more.  My bathrooms does not sparkle the same way it use to.  There are dirty dishes in my kitchen sink more than there aren't.  Try as I may, my floors have a little sticky spot or grit more than I care to admit.  And the laundry.  Don't even get me started on the laundry...

Those toddlers have grown into boys and with boys come dirt.  After all, the definition of a boy is a noise with dirt on it.  Part of me knows those boys are old enough to help.  But let's be honest, what 5, 7 or 10 year old boy can clean as well as mom?  They won't do it as well as me.  They might make a bigger mess in the process.  I don't want to fight with them about it.  I could make a laundry list of excuses to not let or make them help, but as I mentioned, I already have PLENTY of laundry to do.

But by not letting them help, who am I serving?  Who am I allowing them to serve?  The list is pretty short and my name seems to be the only one on the list.  When I take the patience, the time, the patience, the energy and the patience to help them help me, I get to serve them now, and in the future. I am serving their future roommates, families and co-workers.  I am serving God by helping shape men who will know how to serve others.  And don't forget, I am serving me in the future!

If I allow it, I can find the me of today being served.  If I can learn to get past the fact that that's not the way I would do it or accept that even if it isn't spotless, it's cleaner than it was, I can find myself being served by my children.

That's why today when Ray was vacuuming the entry way and flipping rugs over to get their undersides and I could hear the dirt skitter across then entry way, I resisted the urge to snatch the hose from him and do it myself.  Instead, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a minute before I turned to him and smiled.  "Thanks for helping Ray."

And in that choice, in that deep breath, I found not only did future me get served, but so did present me.

A Matter of Life and Death

Yesterday afternoon Ray came home Michael and I sat down with a friend of ours who is finishing up her training as an insurance agent.  She and her manager were reviewing insurance policies with us and discussing what our top insurance needs might be.  The boys were all doing their own things and all in all our meeting went along just fine.  Upon their departure, I got dinner made and on the table.  Ray said he didn't want dinner and asked if he could be excused to his room.  Not being typical behavior for Ray, I was concerned and went to check on him.

"I just don't feel well."

"What doesn't feel well?"

"My head and stomach hurt."

"Did this just start?"

"No I felt like this all afternoon."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want to worry you.  I was concerned that I might be dying and I don't have any life insurance."

I managed to keep a straight face, take his temperature, and get him some meds before I almost died laughing.  Turned out to just be strep throat and he made a full recovery.  Whew!

Raising a Reader

All parents hold their newborns close to the heart and dream dreams of what that child will grow to do.  First steps, first words, first day of school, and on and on.  We all have different hopes and dreams for what our children will do and who they will become.  Books and reading was always part of my vision for my children.  I adore that Theo's face glows when he discovers a book.  I love hearing Sam ask 100 times a day if he just made a rhyme.  I get giddy with excitement when Rob reads a word a little harder than ones he could read yesterday.  I smile to myself when I catch Ray sneaking a few more pages.  I love reading.  I love my boys.  And I especially love that my boys love reading.

So what is the downfall of this?  How could there be right?  When they just don't know when to stop!

Ray's third grade conference:  His teacher's biggest "complaint" was he that he just didn't know when to stop.  He was having to be told to put the book away.  Close the book.  Time to work.  Time to listen.  But even still, he just couldn't help himself.  It was as if the book was like a magnet that wouldn't stop pulling on him.  He doesn't even realize he's doing it.

I can't even begin to count the number of times a week I have to tell the boy to put the book away.  It's bedtime Ray, put the book down.  It's time to get out of bed Ray, put the book down.  We're ready to eat now Ray, put the book down.  Finish getting dressed Ray, put the book down.  We're ready to leave and you still don't have your shoes tied? Put the book down!

So when I got a call yesterday that Ray has having bus trouble, I immediately knew why.  I got a call that Ray was on a bus but wasn't sure if he was on the right bus, where was he suppose to go after school?  He was suppose to ride the bus to daycare.  That was the bus he had gotten on, but he hadn't gotten off.  He was so absorbed in his book that he rode right past his stop.  By the time he realized it, he panicked.  His brother was not there so he thought he was on the wrong bus.  Rob had been there, he just got off when was suppose to.  After a phone call or 4 by the bus company, they safely deposited him at daycare.

Sigh.  What am I gonna do with that kid?  Who'd thunk threatening to take all his books away would be the best threat I could think of?

The Fair is Coming, The Fair is Coming!

It's that time of year again.  August in Austin means FAIR TIME!  The sight of the ferris wheels lights spinning in the sky, the smell of corn dogs, that taster of cotton candy, ah, I love the fair.  And so do my boys.  We drive past the fair grounds multiple times a day most every day and they often recount stories from fairs past.

In the days leading up to the fair, the sight of tractors and trailers had them very excited.  Heard from the backseat:

"The fair is so close I can almost taste the puke in my mouth!!!!" exclaimed a very excited 9 year old Ray.

That may not be my favorite sensory experience of the fair, but to each their own!

Seven

One evening a month or so back, we were having dinner at Culver's.  I don't remember what started the conversation, but Ray informed us that 7 is a pretty special number.

"For every 7 kids, you are guaranteed a girl."

"Huh?"

"For every 7 kids, you are guaranteed a girl."

"Really?  What makes you say that?"

"That's just how it works in big families.  So you only have to have 1 more and it would be a girl."

"Well, I'm still not sure where that come's from, but would mean 3 more kids in our family.  We have 6 people, but only 4 kids."

"Oh yea.  That's what I meant."

"Hmm, that's a lot of kids.  What would we drive?"

"Well, I guess you'll have to wait a few years and then I can get another Yukon and drive some of them for you!"

Juvie

I'm sure by now, most of my readers would have to agree that Sam is a free spirit.  He is SO his own person.  He also had a bit of an independent streak to him.  This being said, you can understand why we are occasionally late for things.  You'd think by now I'd allot 5 extra minutes for him to brush his own teeth.  Oh, and 5 more to put on his shoes.  And 5 for him to buckle his own car seat.  Well, you get the picture.  It can be incredibly frustrating to find out that even after giving him extra time to find out he has not done the task he was suppose to but instead find him engaged in some sort of distraction.

The other evening we were about a block from our destination when Sam hollers from the way back for Michael to stop the truck immediately.  "Dad!  STOP!  I'm not finished buckling yet!"

"Oh, Dad's going to go to jail now!' commented Rob.

"No, Sam's going to juvie!  That's kid jail!" chimed in Ray.

I'm not sure what part of this bothered me the most, the fact that Sam was not completely fastened in or that my 8 year old knows about juvie.  Oh well, I guess back to double checking everyone's buckles for the one and prayer is about all can do for the other.

5 Quarters

"Did you flush the toilet?  Did you wash your hands?"  These are the questions I ask multiple times a day when I see one of my boys tearing out of the bathroom.  Whether they readily admit it or not, the answer is almost always no.  I do not understand this.  I have tried drilling it into them, beating them over the head with it again and again, but still, they "forget" these important steps in sequence of using voiding themselves.  Time and time again I turn them back around so they can head right back in there and complete the process.

Boys being boys, they have of course tried to figure out how it is that I know whether or not if they have indeed done these things without even listening to their verbal responses.  They seem to be truly stumped as to how I just know.  Of course, listening to hear for a flush followed by a rush of water is one way, but my boys aren't stupid and they figured that one out early.  They were truly amazed the first time someone turned on the sink but neglected to wash that mom caught on.  They of course then moved on to the wetting without washing of the hands trick, but somehow Mom still knew.

In the not so distant past Rob went in and out of the bathroom rather quickly.  When asked about flushing and washing (knowing the response should be affirmative and negative), Rob's word were quickly yes and yes, but his eyes told a different story.  Dad happened to be closer and made a move closer to Rob when Rob balled his hands up and said, "You can't small my hands."

Michael stepped closer and zoom, off ran Rob, "Only if you can catch me!" said a giggly blur.

"Mom! You should get this on video.  If you posted it on Youtube, you'd already have 5 quarters by now."

"Huh?  What do you mean Ray?"

"For every 1,000 hits or something like that, Youtube pays you a quarter.  You could make a lot of money that way!"

The Best Dinner

The other evening, dinner time was looming.  The boys were hungry, the baby was hungry, and I was tired.  So I headed to the pantry and found a jar of Alfredo sauce, opened the freezer and pulled out some chicken that I had cooked and cut in advanced, and put on a pot of water to boil some noodles.  I mixed it all together, added some peas, and viola! Chicken Alfredo was on the table.  I wasn't 100% sure how this would go over given the fact that the last time I made it, Rob refused to even take a bite.  So when Rob asked what it was, I knew better than to use the common name,, "chicken, peas and noodles," I said.

"Yum!" Rob enthusiastically replied.

Alright then.  Ray and Rob ate with must enthusiasm and eventually Ray declared, "This is probably the best meal we've had since the baby's been born!"

"Thanks," I think.  Never mind the home cooked meals I've made, sometimes you just have to take a compliment when you can.

And for those of you wondering about Sam, don't worry, he still kept the whine with dinner going refusing to try his food until the rest of us where long gone from the table.  He cleaned his plate while I washed dishes.  He did like it, he just wanted to make sure our dinner time wasn't enjoyable. ;)

Put a Bow on It

Robby doesn't just like babies, he LOVES babies.  If there is a baby around, he is right there cooing and ohing and ahhing.  Given that he is always at his side to hand him a toy, play with him, and even share food with, it was not to surprising when "Wobby" was one of his daycare baby buddies spoke.  So you can about imagine how he is with a baby brother of his own.  We are having to constantly remind him to let Theo sleep, to not pick up him constantly, to get off of him in his car seat, etc.

Just this morning I was peeling Robby off of the baby who was buckled in his car seat ready to go when Ray had one his stroke of brilliance.

"Robby, when we grow up, I'm going to adopt a baby, put a bow on his head, and put him under the Christmas tree for you cause you love babies so much."

"Okay!"  Robby liked that Christmas idea.

"Um, I don't think that's going to work," I interjected.

"Why?" they both asked.

"Well, because babies aren't puppies.  You can't just adopt one, and you don't just give them away to other people like that."

"What do you mean?"

"To adopt, people need to meet you and learn all about you to make sure you will be a good parent.  They come to your house to make sure it will be safe.  It can take a long time.  And they aren't going to let you adopt if you are planning to turn around and give the baby away."

"Oh," they seem disappointed, but seem to understand.

"Well, then, maybe my wife will have 2 boys and then she'll let you have one of those," Ray decided.

"Cool," said Rob.

"Good luck with that boys," I state.  I'm not thinking it will work out quite that way. ;)

Socks & Underwear

Michael's birthday falls on October 31, yes, Halloween.  I try to make it special for him, but often feel like his day is overshadowed with pumpkins, costumes, and all things trick-or-treat.  For years I have told him that I am not decorating for Halloween, but for his birthday.  I even have a tote marked "Michael's Birthday Decorations" but since he doesn't particularly love black and orange, I think he knows I'm just humoring him.

As October drew to a close, I knew I was running out of time to get him the perfect present.  Granted, I had not a clue what that was.  So, I asked.  Apparently he didn't have a clue either.  Sooooo, I asked the kiddos.  One by one I asked them what they wanted to get Dad for his birthday.  Here are their replies.

Ray, "I was thinking I would make him a hug coupon book like I did for your birthday."  Not bad, very sentimental.

Rob, "Hmmm, how about a new shirt?  Maybe Angry Birds or Star Wars."  Well, it is the thought that counts.

Sam, very enthusiastically, "Underwear!" Huh?  What?!

"You want to get Daddy underwear for his birthday?"

"Yup, and socks."

"Socks and underwear?"

"It will make him smile," says Sam with a face cracking, light up the room smile.

"That it will!" I agree laughing.

Later that day, Sam, Rob and I stop into Target.  After careful consideration, Rob chooses a green Yoda shirt and Sam ends up finding "pirate" underwear and socks for Michael.  What soon-to-be 34 year old man doesn't want to wear skull and cross bone undies and socks?!

That same evening, Michael informs me that he thought of a gift idea for his birthday.  Sam overhears this and yells, "Underwear!"

"Huh?" asks Michael.

"Shh! Sam, remember, it's suppose to be a secret." I try to interject.

"You want underwear for birthday right Daddy?"

"Um, sure," Michael replies.

Sam is very pleased with himself and at least the print of the undies and the socks will be a surprise.

Which One is the American?

After two plus years of his inquiring, we cracked and let Ray join the YMCA swim team this fall.  Following swim practice, Ray makes his way to locker room to shower and dress and believe me, he takes his sweet, sweet time with this process.  (Apparently the Y has a better hot shower than we do at home...)  That leaves me, my big round pregnant belly, 5 year old Rob, and 3 year old Sam waiting patiently (or as patiently as a 3 year can) in the chairs outside the pool while the big kids start their practice.

"Mom!  Which one is the American?"  Sam loudly asks.

"They are all Americans, Sam."

"They are ALL Americans?"

"Yes, Sam.  We are in America, and all of the kids are Americans."

"And they are all human?"

"Yes, they are all human boys and girls."

"So ALL of those humans are Americans too?"

"Yes Sam.  They are all humans and they are all Americans."

"Wow.  Then how do I know which one to cheer for?"

"They are all on our team Sam.  You can cheer for them all."

"Oh, okay."

Once again, we provide the entertainment wherever we go.

What's in a Name?

Poor Wix #6 may actually have to write that on his kindergarten papers because we are in quite the dilemma trying to come up with a name for baby boy #4.  The boys all have family ties with their names, and we'd like to do so much for this one.  The boys all have names that they can grow into but have nice little nicknames for the times being, we'd like that for this one too.  The problem therein lies with us finding a name that meets these criteria while not causing Michael or I to scrunch up our noses.  I say a name, he responds with silence.  He says a name, I comment about such and such a student.

Add to the mix the opinions of the three boys, whom, for the record, get minimal to no vote, and the conversations get really interesting... Take the other day for example:

We were driving and I brought up the topic of names and even tried sneaking in one or two of my faves that Michael has already less than enthusiastically passed on.  "What is your dad's middle name again?" I know he's said it 100 times already, but maybe this time inspiration will strike and I'll come up with a creative way to make it work.

"Laverne," replies Michael.

I wait for the inspiration bolt of lightening, it doesn't come, I slump in my seat.  "There HAS to be the perfect name out there.  We just need to get creative.  Maybe I can come up with a cool way to combine Dale and Lee..."

"Like what, L'Dale?  Dalee?"

"Okay, maybe not."

"Let's name the baby Apple," says a voice from the backseat. We are at a stoplight near Applebee's.

"What about Target?" says another voice.  Target is kiddy corner from Applebee's.

"Oh!  What about Chip?" I say, "We all love to eat chips!"  A Frito O' Lay truck drives by.

"Sounds good to me!" says Michael.

"If it's twins, we can name one Chip and one Dale!" says Ray.

Michael and I chuckle, "Maybe, but I don't think it's twins."

"Yea, you're right, but his first name could be Chip and his middle name Dale.  Chip Dale! I like it," says Ray.

"We'll take that name into consideration," I say, trying not to bust out loud laughing.

"If he's anything like his brother, it could be fitting..." ponders Michael.

And consideration done.  I'm sure we'll pick a name before baby comes home from the hospital...

Shots?! Gulp.

I almost forgot to share another first from our experience at the doctor office yesterday...

Rob is going to kindergarten and therefor he needed a few shots before the 1st day.  By a few, I mean 4.  Gulp.  1 mom, 3 kids, 4 shots.  This had potential for disaster written all over it.  At the word "immunizations" panic broke out.  But not by Rob.  No, Ray was the one freaking out.  "He has to get shots?!?!  I HATE shots!"  Ray's face was flushed.  Tears welled in his eyes.

"Ray, you are not getting any shots.  Just Rob and he's really tough."

"But I don't even want to see a needle!" A tear slipped over the rim of his eye and rolled down his cheek.

"Fine, you don't have to.  You can wait in the waiting room."

"Okay." Ray reluctantly agreed.

When the time came for Rob's immunizations, Ray retreated to read, Rob climbed up on my lap and took the 4 immunizations like Superman.  He barely even flinched and didn't shed a tear.  As the nurses and I made a big deal about how amazing and tough Rob was, Sam decided he wanted a chance.

"My turn!  My turn!  I want a shot now."

"That's a first," commented the nurse. "I don't think I've ever had a child want a shot before."

It only got more interesting as we explained to Sam that he wasn't getting a shot today and he dissolved into tears.

"Hey, Sam, how about we come back in October and you can get a flu shot then?  We can all get flu shots to keep our baby healthy."

"Okay," Sam sniffled and agreed.  Just don't tell your oldest brother I thought as the boys all picked out a lollipop.

Who would've thunk that only child getting the shots, would be the only child to not cry about it?!?!

Things You See in the Rearview Mirror

Ray's cousins had invited him to their churches Bible camp with them this summer.  I personally thought 8 seemed too young for  5 nights away from home.  Then I realized it was more me, than him having a hard time with this concept.  And since he would be staying in a cabin with 2 cousins, a family friend, have another family friend for his counselor and an uncle on site as camp dean, I was about out of good excuses.  So Monday morning came his bag was packed, sleeping bag rolled, and he was off to meet the other campers from Austin.  My brother-in-law had the group meeting at Walgreens and then heading up together on the church bus.  When Bernie had to remind Ray (and others) to come back off the bus to tell their families good-bye, I knew he was going to be just fine.  (It was still me I wasn't as sure about.)  We sat in the parking lot a few minutes while the campers took some pics and loaded up and then drove off.  A few blocks later, I checked my rearview mirror and saw an empty booster seat.  My throat knotted and a tear or two slipped down my cheek.  Sometimes being a mom is tough.

Tuesday morning I was woken up to the sound of my phone.  I missed the call, saw it had been Michael and called him right back.  "Hey, what's up?"  It's not all that common for Michael to call from work.

"Bernie just called.  Ray fell from the bunk bed and they think he may have broken his arm."

I can honestly say I wasn't horribly alarmed or startled.  Somehow, and I know it was only by the grace of God, I kept my head together, devised a plan for getting the boys taken care of for the day (thank you Nicole and Grandma!) and headed off to meet up with Ray and the camp staff at the hospital in Mankato.  I will admit I did have to use GPS to find the best way and I did have to check with Bernie on the way to say, "I'm on my way, but my way to where???" because I was a little sketchy on the details.  It was a long couple of hours from wake up to arrival at hospital.

When I arrived at the hospital, I went straight to the ER desk.  I was impressed that upon mention of Ray's name, they instantly remembered "the adorable blonde boy who was trying so hard to be brave and not cry."  I was surprised when I was told it appeared that he was being discharged.  "Awesome!  Must not have been broken after all!"  I commented.

I spoke too fast.  "Oh, he is being taken up for surgery."  My heartbeat and feet both sped up at that point.  I managed to hear and follow the directions the lady gave me to the elevator and up the stairs.  I even managed to sign the appropriate forms when I got to the surgery desk.  It was such a relief once I finally got to see and hug my lil guy.

The surgeon explained that Ray had broken both bones in his right forearm all the way through and while it was not an uncommon pediatric break, it was not a desirable one.  (What break is???)  He performed a closed reduction to better align the bones and Ray was a champ through it all.  He fell asleep as we cruised home along highway 14, and as I saw his little head bob over his splinted and slinged arm, that same pesky knot returned and I let the tears finally flow, but only for 2 minutes.  Sometimes being a mom is really tough.

After some difficulty, I managed to get Ray follow up care arranged in Owatonna on Friday.  We were disappointed to learn his alignment was not ideal and a second surgery was to be on Monday.

Monday was a tough day.  A really tough one.  Monday was a long day.  A really long one.  But all in all, it went well.  Ray came through again like quite a little champ.  Michael veered for the pharmacy and I to get the other boys.  As we neared home, I glanced into my rearview mirror.  Three blondies all "mmmm'ing" their blankies with super sleepy, super sweet eyes.  And there was that familiar knot again and a single tear rolled down my cheek.  Sometime being a mom is tough, but it is oh, so worth it.

3 Reasons I Love Raising Boys

I can't believe the number of people who act as if I should be deeply saddened by the upcoming birth of another boy.  "Maybe #5 will be a girl."  "It's too bad you aren't getting a girl."  "ANOTHER boy?!  You poor thing."  Would a girl be fun and exciting, sure.  But so will a boy!  I love my boys and can't imagine life without any one of them.  If given a chance to trade one of my boys for a girl, I couldn't and wouldn't.  They are each so wonderfully and uniquely made.  And besides that, don't you know people, little boys love their mamas forever!

Reason #1-Sam
The other day I was getting ready to lay with Sam for what he calls "fake rest time" (nap time, as opposed to "real rest time" or bed time.)  His shorts were damp from sprinkler fun so we left them to dry in the bathroom.  Upon climbing into my bed with me, he started tugging at his t-shirt.  "Mommy, help me.  I need to take this off so I can be your huzzbin."  I laughed as I helped him peel his shirt up over his head and then he snuggled into next to me for a lovely nap.

Reason #2-Robby Roo

"Robby Roo, why don't you stop growing, stay 5 and live with me forever?"

"I can't Mommy.  Everyone has to grow."

"Maybe I can find some medicine to help you stop."

"I have to grow up, but I can live with you forever."

"I think you will grow up and probably get married.  I don't think your wife will want to live with me."

"Yup, she will.  I will find a wife and she can help you with all the cooking and cleaning!"

It wasn't just the words, but look of sincerity and devotion in his eyes as he spoke.

Reason #3-Ray
It was a near perfect summer evening.  Swimming and pizza topped off with a backyard fire.  Michael and I sat on an old beater love seat watching our boys chase fireflies and roast marshmallows.  When Michael got up to assist one of the boys with the roasting process, Ray ran over, snagged his seat, put his hand on his shoulder and pulled me back till my head rested on his shoulder.  It was such a sweet, loving gesture and topped off an evening that will live in my memory forever.

I love my boys and they love me.  I would trade that for any amount of pink in the whole wide world.

Welcome Wookiee!

On December 24th 2011, our family welcomed our newest member, Wookiee Wicks.

Wookiee was found wandering around outside our home on Christmas Eve upon our return from church.  Ray noticed, "He has a collar, but no license!  I think that means we can keep him!"

Upon 1st greeting, the boys were all in love.  He is really quite a loveable lug.  But I thought we were getting a dog.  (He has since turned into a horse as he seems to double in size nightly on a regular basis!!)  The cute little furball was 1st thought to be possible be another Ewok, but I quickly pointed out to the boys he was a baby and would surely grow, it was then decided it was then clear that he was a wookiee and hence he was promptly named.

And just as promptly, Wookiee became one of the family.

Another?!?!

Robby shocked me yesterday.  (Yes, that is a frequent occurrence, but this time, he really got me.)  I was making dinner when out of nowhere I felt a tap on my rear end (gotta love preschool height).  When I turned around, Robby's big eyes looked into mine and he asked, "Mom, can we have another baby now?"

I must have fluid in my ears and not have heard right.  "What?"

"Can we have another baby now?  Sam's not a baby anymore and I really, really want one.  I love babies.  Can we have another baby now?"

I replied as any good mother would, "Um, go talk to your dad."

Robby set rounded the corner, found Michael and repeated his request.  I eavesdropped curious to how Michael would gently let him down.  Imagine my surprise when he responded with what other than, yes, you guessed it, "Go talk to your mom."

So Robby turned right back my way with those pleading eyes that scream "Please, please, puh-lease?!?!"

"Go talk to God.  But if you do, ask for a sister.  Tell him Mom really likes pink."

And he did.  He put himself straight into a corner, folded his little chubby fingers around one another, squeezed those big eyes and began to pray.

"I did it Mom!  Now we have to wait and see!" announced Rob a few moments later.

I looked at Michael and smiled.  "Remember what happened last time one of our children prayed a prayer like that?"

"Yup.  We got Sam."  Ray's prayer for twin sisters and a mini-van may not have been fulfilled but Sam and a Yukon are close enough for me.  I wonder in what mysterious way God might respond to Rob's request...