we called it.

Well, Troy and I predicted it would happen.
We knew Grant would be the one to get us to the ER first.
And today was the day.

So, I'm going about my day, you know, pretending to teach and all, when my phone vibrates in my coat pocket. It's the lady who watches Grant.

Isn't it amazing how seeing that number can stop your heart for a second? What happens the instant you become a mother that makes it impossible for the daycare provider or babysitter to be calling to remind you to buy diapers or ask where you keep the extra sippy cups? No, in a mother's mind, that number on our cell phone immediately sparks images of wounds, or fires, or amber alerts.

As soon as I said hello, I could hear Grant's screams.
There is nothing worse than hearing your son's screams of pain and not being there.
I managed to make out that Grant had fallen, hit his head on the edge of a table and had a pretty deep gash on his forehead.
Luckily, an aid was in my room, so I told her what my plan was for the day, grabbed my purse and ran to the front office to sign out while I explained to the school secretary what was going on.

When I got to JoJo's, Grant was still screaming. It was terrible. I mean, I've never heard him cry anything like that. We went to the bathroom so I could see the cut once she removed the band aid.

I'm pretty tough when it comes to blood. I don't even mind watching when I get blood drawn. It just doesn't freak me out too bad. But seeing Grant literally shake convulsively from the pain as she pulled back the band-aid to reveal the deepest cut I've ever seen nearly sent me over the edge...

I loaded him immediately into the car, and started driving downtown, because there were two things there - Troy and the ER. I called the Doctor's office on the way there and for the first time EVER was actually put on hold while waiting to speak to just the receptionist!!! It was in that moment that I officially decided to hate Shannon and will begin making preparations to make the transition to Community.

Finally, a nurse told me to just take him to the ER, but I stopped by the bank first to see what Troy thought we should do.

Have you ever tried to have a calm, rational conversation about your child's headwound while he screams bloody murder with blood oozing through his bandaid? It's difficult.

We decided on the Emergency Room.

The title Emergency Room is one I use loosely. We were essentially sitting in a room with a bunch of semi-sick people. Some were actually able to have a pretty decent conversation about whose baby that really was on Days of Our Lives. I don't know, but shouldn't the Emergency Room be for like Emergencies? And at what point do they bump you up on the list?
"Oh, ma'am, I'm sorry. I see your arm is half detached from your body, but that poor man over there has a cough!"

Anyway, after waiting a tedious THREE WHOLE HOURS in the waiting room, we were finally seen.

I pause here to say that I have the best sister in the world. Not only did she rush to the so-called emergency room when I texted her, but she had the presence of mind to bring Grant a Capri Sun and a bag of goldfish crackers. Best Aunt Ever award goes to Rebekah Lewis.

So, finally we go in to see the doctor. Grant cries. stitches are needed. They start bringing in all the necessary tools and the nurse asks, "Do you want to stay in for the procedure?" Well, of course I said yes. I knew I wouldn't watch, but I wanted Grant to at least be able to hear my voice.

I hadn't eaten anything all day. I was already shakey sick hungry. Then they strap my baby into a papoose thing to keep him still. One big male nurse holds his head, another, stands over Grant's other side to aid the doctor and the doctor starts working. And Grant, my baby, starts screaming crying. I tried. I did. I said sweet things, tried to look away, but eventually it was just too much! I just had to get out of there. I truly felt like I was going to be sick. Just sick from my poor baby having to go through anything like this.

And you know what else I was thinking about? I couldn't stop thinking about all those poor moms in Haiti. My son had what would seem like a scratch to them. It was heartbreaking - I was heartbroken for Grant, I was miserable thinking of those moms, I was tired and hungry and I just wanted to leave.

Finally, after 2 inner stitches and four outer, tears shed by mom and son, we were dismissed.

And he's fine as can be now. He was all playful and cute and darling like always tonight.

It's hard being a mom. I don't ever want another day like today. ever.

in love.

with this picture.
the colors.
the face.
the big eyes.
her sweet pudgy two year old arms.
in. love.

tons of randomness.

I have thoroughly enjoyed spring break. I do not want it to end. Except that its end means summer is quickly approaching. That makes my heart beat wildly with anticipation.

I'm deleting pictures from my computer. I have deleted 17 gb, about 4000 pictures, and have barely made a dent. Managing the massive amount of pictures I take is something I should be more...well, it's something I should, like, do.

I am absolutely adoring this spring weather. I love it. Today, with its 42 degree frigidness, is stupid. But I know it won't last! I just feel like spring makes me want to go, do and smile! It's like the house just feels cleaner, the world just seems happier...I always love spring in spring and fall in fall. I think, maybe, I just like seasons.

I also like to overuse the word just.

Would you still consider me a friend if I...told you...no I can't.

It's just that I wanted something to watch.
You know...something to watch while I edited.
And the thing that sounded best was...no! I can't tell you this. It's too shameful.

I'm still me.
Just...me...on the dark side.

Okay, here it goes.
I went to Hastings last night at midnight and bought New Moon.

I just heard the massive click of all of you deleting me from your blog rolls.

It's not that I am that obsessed with it. really! I just had to be up late anyway...and I was going to buy it anyway...and what's the sense in waiting when you could have it now...and it's spring break and you should do crazy stupid things like that during spring break...

And then stay up till 2:30 am watching it.

I swear I won't show up to the eclipse premiere three days early with a tent.
I hope...

To prove that I am still me, I will now write about laundry.
I am sick of jeans. I am sicker still of socks.
Sicker still is a perfectly fine phrase to use.
The other day I was holding 9 socks in my hands. All Mason's size. Not ONE matched the other. These were all white athletic socks.
I am very tempted to throw away every pair of socks we own and enforce a Hanes only rule.

This sock comment reminds me that when I was growing up we had our initials scrawled on our socks with sharpies, so my mom could match them for us. Right now I have two thoughts on that matter.
1) My mom was a smart woman.
2) How in heaven's name did she match socks for all eight hundred of us?!
Every day I realize new superhuman qualities that my mom embodies.

If you need something to do on Friday nights, because maybe you're like me and would prefer to do nothing but sit on the couch at the end of a long week, then watch "Who do you think you are?" on NBC. Celebrities search to find things out about their ancestors. It's not that I really care who Lisa Kudrow is related to, but it's history. Maybe, I'm just a nerd, but I've always been fascinated with who is on the highest branch of my family tree. Last night's episode with Lisa Kudrow was especially...haunting. Her family history took her to Nazi Germany... Next week Matthew Broderick is up...tune in!

I've got like 20,000 pics left to delete...sheesh.

our first conflict.

It's been a long honeymoon. Three months.
I've fallen madly in love with you.
You've simplified my life, and renewed my love of color and vibrance and sharpness.
We've had lots of late nights together.
I've learned from you.
You've made me smile.
But I knew this day would come.

Photoshop, we are at odds.

Where is the secret place in your many many menus and folders and hidden toolbars that allows me to shrink an image so that I can share it via the internet? Where? Where??? I beg of you!!! I know there must be a simpler way than what I've been doing. I know it...
I can't believe that we would be so perfectly matched in every other way only to discover that this major defect (on your part) is pulling us apart.

Perhaps your pal lightroom can help?

I have many pictures I want to post.
Posts of spring break fun.
Of a best friend's baby boy.
Of pancakes eaten at a diner.
Of spring...

But, alas, photoshop, you...disappoint me.
I simply cannot continue doing things the way I am. It's too hard. It's too many steps. It's too much.
You are here to simplify, not complicate.

If any of you can help mend this relationship, please do so.
How, in lightroom, or in photoshop, or in any other PC way can I shrink several pictures all at once? I know I have to resave them of course, but in my old program I could highlight as many as I wanted then clicked a "batch resize" button. Surely, photoshop or lightroom has the same feature and I'm just too dumb to find it! Help!!!

an army dude

This post is about a boy, I'm sorry, a man named Adam.
I said boy first because I still, even though Adam is in his twenties, think of him as a boy. I think somehow in my mind he's been frozen at about age 8. But, Adam is most certainly a man...

Adam, along with his mom Tammie and his sister Amber, lived with us for about 7 years when I was a kid. Technically Adam is my nephew, but for all intents and purposes, Adam is my brother. He tormented me relentlessly when we were younger. I'm older than him, but it doesn't matter. He teased and taunted and drove me absolutely crazy for a good many years. He did all the things a brother should do - bugged me and my friends, got into my stuff, teased me about boys... Brother.

But he was also pretty cool to have around. He was THE guy to have on your team during Cops and Robbers. If you had a bug that needed killing and Dad wasn't around, he had your back. Need a boy to play the prince in your rendition of "The Beetle Ball" from Thumbelina? He was the one to go to. Well, you had to bribe him a little first, but eventually he would give in. He could beat you at any card game, would brave the icky waters of the turtle pond when us girls wouldn't, and could be pretty darn funny... Brother.

Now Adam is going to Afghanistan as a soldier in the United States Army.
He leaves this month. In all honesty, I haven't thought much about him leaving.

Because it's surreal and scary.

I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about him being in danger. I don't want to hear the news and think about knowing someone I love dearly being there. I don't want to ache for his mom. I don't want to even begin to imagine how Tammie must be feeling and when she wrote about it here, I sat and cried...and hugged my own boys tighter that day.
I don't want to think about any brother of mine being anywhere but safe at home...
He's Adam. He's eight. He is just playing army dudes...

But Adam's not eight. And he is the army dude.
He's dedicated and brave and has facebooked his way through the training, always putting his lighthearted, positive spin on things. He knows where he's going. He knows why he's going. Adam is all grown up. In a very real way...

I know I don't even have to ask this of all of you, but please pray for Adam. Pray for his safety. Pray for peace of mind. Pray for wisdom and guidance, and please pray that Adam will be a Light in the darkness while he serves in Afghanistan. And pray for his parents, Tammie especially. I can't...imagine. As the mother of two sons...I can't even...Pray for her to find comfort and peace in Him until her son is back in her arms again.


Adam,
I never would have thought that the little boy I used to fight with would one day grow up to fight for the freedom of my own little boys... I love you. Hurry home.

washing dishes

About two months ago I decided to stop using my dishwasher. I hated the process of loading and unloading the dishwasher, pre-washing to wash, cloudy glasses and often not all the way cleaned dishes. So I bought a stainless steel drainer from wal-mart and I haven't looked back. I still am lazy sometimes, but overall I feel my kitchen is cleaner more often. And in some ways I almost enjoy washing dishes now. For a few reasons.

Growing up we didn't have a dishwasher. Well we did. Their names were Micah, Christy, Josh, Jenny, Gina, Beki, Tammie, Mom and even Dad. We all had a dish night. Or two depending on who had recently gone to college. And I guess in some way, as silly as this sounds, seeing a dish drainer on my kitchen counter kind of makes me feel like I'm home.

And I can't seem to get warm in the winter. I am constantly cold. Except when I'm washing dishes in temperatures just shy of scalding.

But the main reason I think I have enjoyed this new process of washing dishes is during the times my hands are occupied with dishes, I have time to think. I'm not watching TV, or listening to music or yelling at 4th graders. Washing dishes requires very little thinking so my mind is freed up to just think. And have you thought about how very little time we have to think these days?

In our cars, we can talk on the phone, listen to music, even watch a movie.
While waiting to be seen at the dentist or doctor, we can play with our iphone or text a friend or check our email.
There's always something to watch on TV because we've recorded anything we might possibly want to watch.
We run with ipods plugged into our ears, pandora can stream our favorite music into any place we have an internet connection, and we can shop at any hour of the day for any item in the world.
If you think back just twenty years...how much more time did we give ourselves to just be alone with our thoughts?

I read in a Bible Study a few years back that women should appreciate the mundane tasks of running a household because while our hands our busy, our minds are free. Free to sort out a problem, dream, pray, imagine things we could do, think about the things we need to do, think.

Tonight as I washed the dishes, I thought about school, the boys, how I should do better at laundry, how I miss my best friend, why we need less plastic cups, how I wish I could be more dedicated about gardening. I dreamed up some ideas for a book, remembered the way dinner was when I was a kid, stressed about paying the bills, prayed a little bit, and smiled when I thought about spring break and what I want to do with my time...

It wasn't any serious thinking, that's certain, but it was...refreshing.

If I hadn't had dishes to wash (or laundry or a floor to sweep or socks to match...)I would have watched TV, read blogs, browsed on etsy or whatever and thought about other people's thoughts. And that certainly, most definitely has its place! Etsy is a therapy all on its own! and I'd lose it with my blogroll... But sometimes we just need only our thoughts, or His, to guide our thinking. Not music or an idea for a craft or... someone elses views on washing dishes. :)

Does any of this make sense? I'm terrified I have somehow just blogged against blogging or cursed the invention of the internet and cell phones. Completely not my intention!

It just felt good to think! And if I hadn't had the dishes to wash I wouldn't have.
There. I took like 3000 words to say what could have been said in 18.
Sheesh.

right now.

right now there are three little boys sprawled out on my pull out sofa.
One is wearing just pajama bottoms.
One is wearing a VBS shirt with plaid pants.
The other is my seven year old son.
Having spent the first part of their evening bowling, followed by breaking in a new wii game for the birthday boy, they are now watching Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.
I can hear discussions of motives ("he has a crush on her"), character analysis (she's weird lookin'), and plot development ("that's not gonna help"). A few minutes ago there was a lengthy discussion on the phrase, "what the." and how it's the beginning of a bad word.

My baby is seven. Seven.
He's old enough to know with absolute certainty that he wants to invite four people - Lottie, Lauren, Cade and Cole Henry - to his party, that he wants it at the bowling alley, that he wants a chocolate cake with white icing and "blue stuff", and that he wants Cade and Cole Henry to stay the night so they can "play the wii, watch movies and have donuts for breakfast."

He's seven.
And because I have to go be a cool mom right now that's all I'm gonna say about that. Too much more and I'll start crying. I doubt Mason really wants mom to break down into a "when did my baby grow up" crying spell...

This just in...
Cole Henry: Nothing is impossible!
Mason and Cade: yes-huh!
Cole Henry: No!
Mason: Finding God is impossible.
pause
Mason: He lives in your heart! You can't get in there!

:)