Dream Song

Per Sam's request.

There are no piranhas in Sam's dream, in Sam's dream.
There are no piranhas in Sam's dream, in Sam's dream.
There's a sun and moon and coconut cream pie,
but there are no piranhas in Sam's dream, in Sam's dream.

Thank the Lord, at ALL Times

This morning, while eating breakfast, Sam announced that he need go potty.  "But don't worry!  I already asked the Lord to help me!" he loudly said as he ran for the bathroom.

Upon returning, he told me he thanked the Lord for helping him.

I guess he's taking the at all times thing pretty seriously.

Just a Word

Thii is 17 months and is a guy of very few words.  And with 3 big brothers at his beckon call, why wouldn't he be?  Pointing and "Uh!" elicit responses from all 3 big brothers quite well.
 "Mom, I think he's hungry."
"Mom, he needs you."
"Mom, he wants a cookie."
"Mom, he's thirsty."
"Mom, he looks tired."
"Mom, he wants his blanket."
and so forth.
And if that doesn't work, he does know the word "Mom" quite well.  I wonder how that happened???

So imagine my surprise this morning when he picked up a toy gun in the garage, pointed it directly at me and said "Die."  Yes, die.  Clear as day.

I guess Thii's been watching and listening to kids at daycare because I've taught my boys to NEVER aim guns at people and NEVER say things like "die."  Yup, that's gotta be it.  It couldn't have come from the brothers...

Before you start judging me, remember my last post?  The one where I started off with,
you know I have 4 boys right???   I tried keeping toy guns away from my kids.  They just made everything else into a gun.  I tried keeping them out of the house, the garage is a good compromise.  I tried teaching them not to aim at people, they wait till I'm not looking.  Sigh.  I tired.  I really, really did.

I Have Something To Tell You

I have a friend who says I should preface every story I tell with, "You know I have 4 boys right?"  There is so much truth to this that I sometimes think I should wear a sticker that reads, "Hello! My name is Mom of 4 boys."  You know for those days where I know I showered SOMETIME this week, my hair is in a ponytail because I don't have time to run a comb through it, I was lucky enough to get deodorant on but the idea of makeup is simply ludicrous and I somehow managed to get dressed in my "good" yoga pants.  And I forgot to mention the snot on my shoulder, something in my hair besides my hair elastic, a questionable smudge on my shirt and bags under my eyes.  Needless to say, I rarely feel attractive and I never feel glamorous.  There are days where I can feel downright repulsive.

It was on one of these such days that I was home with not 1, not 2, but 3 sick kiddos.  I spent a large amount of time rocking a feverish baby, wiping a preschoolers nose and giving neb treatments to a 1st grader.  When the 5 year old started in with, "Mom, Mama, Mommy,"  I took a deep breath and did my best to keep it together.

"Yes, dear?"

"I have something to tell you..."

"And what is that?"

He climbed up on the arm of the chair where I was rocking his baby brother, leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "I just wanted to tell you, (pause), you are beautiful!" 

Sure, the words are sweet, but the squeeze around my neck and ear to ear smile that accompanied it made me believe it.  

You see Moms, you ARE beautiful.  Despite what the mirror, magazines and yourself might say, you ARE beautiful.  And it isn't despite the shower, yoga pants and messy hair.  No, in fact, these very things are part of what make you beautiful because they are part of who you are.  You are Mom, Mama, Mommy. You are the rocker of feverish babies, the wiper of noses, the one who's kiss can heal and soothe better than any medicine.  And to your child, your husband, the grandparents of your children, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.  

I try hard and pray often that God will help me to see and love others the way He does.  Thank you God for using my sniffly 5 year old to help me see a glimpse of myself in that same way.

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!

Cheese

The other day Sam wanted a quesadilla sandwich for lunch.  I wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but asked him to help me get the stuff out.  He reached into the cheese drawer in the fridge to get the cheese out and came out with a block of cheddar.

"Well, it looks like we're going to have to use Canadian cheese, the other kind is all gone."

I guess I better remember to add American cheese to the grocery list...

Get Well Gifts

Last Sunday, Rob broke his tibia, but that should probably be it's own blog thread. Or a future chapter for my book someday. As you can imagine, that has meant a bit of an upside down week for the whole Wix 6. It has also meant get well gifts for Rob. I didn't think much of it until we were getting into our truck Thursday afternoon and Sam said, "Mom, I have the hiccups. Quick, call everyone and tell them I like Skylanders."