PKU Blues

I tried little girl, I really tried. I put up the biggest phone effort ever, and your Daddy can tell you that two hours of being on the phone with someone other than him, is a huge effort on my part. I talked to the government. I talked to health care officials and supervisors. I talked with lots and lots of "little guys". I tried to be super sleuth and convince the government with my evidence. I pleaded with truths. And in the end, I could not move the mountain of government for you. The laboratory supervisor couldn't convince them either. Even when the evidence showed that your PKU test was received in the lab three minutes later at the correct time.

I failed.
For a third time
I will watch over you
As white lab coats
Stick your heel
And squeeze
....And squeeze
.........And squeeze.

You'll cry.

The truth
Did not set you free.
Four millimeters of ink
Misplaced on a page.

This time
I'll cry with you.

Because, little one, Mommy has a deep desire to save you from others' mistakes. And as you get older, I'll even want to save you from your own. When you become a mother, you'll understand that it is not the pin prick that upsets me so. It's the bigger picture. I won't always be able to protect you from the mistakes of others. I can't. And there will be times in your life, when you are in the right, and it will still hurt. But I promise that I'll be there to watch over you, and spill tears with you. You'll always have my fingers to wrap a death grip around when it hurts more than words can say. Whether your three weeks old or thirty three years.

Fasting From Groceries

Grace in the middle of her nightly prayer: "...and I pray that You would help me choose something to eat tomorrow, because we have no food left..."

Guilty as charged. Behold, my fridge's mugshot.

Who says you can't sustain a family of five on frosting, a lemon, two onions, a bag of bagels, and diet Coke? And with a stack of cheese slices, the possibilities are endless! Tonight was "Finish It Monday". In other words, dinner is what is left in the freezer: Taquitos, Fish Sticks, Tater Tots, Peas and Rice. There is nothing quite like ketchup and sour cream on the same plate - let me tell you.

Truthfully, the thought of walking down aisles of groceries, pushing one of those mammoth carts with three kids inside, followed by a pelvis that I swear is being held together by a trembling strand or two of remaining muscle, makes me want to run to the fridge for a spoon full of frosting. Really, I think we could make it just a few more days on the corn, eggs, and bagels. Did I mention the 10 stale boxes of cereal? The cereal, peanut butter and Crystal Light packets buy me at least another week.

The Well Visit

There are some of you out there who know that one of my least favorite things to do in life is take my kids to go see the doctor. So naturally, this Mama doesn't DO most of the "Well Visits" our clinic would love to have set up. After your second child, you begin to arrive at the realization that well visits go against all motherly instincts. Probably because after attending a "Well Visit" at least one child shortly thereafter becomes very unwell due to the germ-athon that takes place in a doctor's office. Again, I stress, this Chick doesn't do well visits.

But, I have recently discovered that there is a point where a clinic begins to refuse to treat your child for a very real illness, because you have neglected to take him or her to two years of well visits. Hmmm....maybe the John Edwards Healthcare plan is already in operation? Go figure. Things get busy in this household, and the last thing I want to do is induce illness on my children just so the clinic can check some wellness visit box off on their chart. However, I did have to face the hard earned truth that my avoidance of wellness visits has put us a tad behind on the vaccinations. So it was time to face the music. A LOT OF MUSIC.

Today was vaccination make up day at our house. It was a day for much prayer and beseeching before setting foot in the doctor's office. Determined to set off on the right foot, I set out an hour ahead of time making sure hair was brushed, teeth were sparkling, and socks matched. What I forgot to do was an underwear check. So imagine my surprise when during Sir Bugga-Lot's inspection the doctor and I both discover together that Jack has decided to go commando for the day!

But really, everyone was in great spirits, and the visit went very well considering the odds against us. Sir Bugga-Lot even had to pee in a cup that his mommy held with two sisters looking on, and he did it to perfection. Now that is tough to do!

After a two hour long visit (another reason why I hate taking three kids into a doctor's office), it was time for the dreaded shots. My poor little man had to take FIVE shots in the legs, while the Queen received 3 whammies in her tiny little arms. Never in my life have I heard the Queen scream at such astronomical decibels. With both children shrieking for mercy, the littlest Princess began to live up to her name and wailed in terror over the other two tortured souls. And I'm quite sure that if I could have done a womb check, Baby Hope was also beside herself in fear. The shrieking, OH my friends THE SHRIEKING... it was impressive.

But really, we had a great visit. The kids are a bit stiff, but otherwise survivors. Next week will I'm sure be a different story when three out of five of us will have our heads in sick buckets because we succumbed to the WELL VISIT.

New Carpet Vs. Four Dogs

On Friday, our new carpet was installed. Praise GOD! I can't even begin to tell you the difference that it has made in the house. No more mystery stains and smells in the carpet left behind by the previous owners who lived with an indoor zoo. No more hee-bee-jee-bee feelings. We are finally over the hump of disaster and on our way to moving in completion. It feels good, not to mention super squishy soft on the toes.

With just over a month left to go before Baby Hope arrives, Tom Builder has discovered that I will move heaven and earth (or king sized mattresses) singlehandedly with or without his help to finish the job indoors. I will not be stopped. Unless it comes to rebuilding the closets, and then I am admittedly at his mercy. But I can make the grand announcement that nobody is sleeping on the floor anymore. After five months, The Queen's Grace and Sir Bugga-lot have their bunk beds and can say Adieu to sleeping with mattresses on the floor.

That's the good news in the cleanliness department. The bad news, is for ten days we have inherited three additional doggies. They're good girls, but included in the bunch is a live wire puppy on a course of destruction through our house while my brother and his good wife are on a Carribean cruise. I'm beginning to realize how good we had it when Maggie, our beloved now in doggie heaven Golden Retriever was a puppy. Since Saturday, Ms. Sadie the Bloodhound puppy has sought out and destroyed:

1 Pacifier
3 Markers
1 Red Uniball Pen (which of course exploded all over the hardwood floors)
3 Strips of weather stripping for the doors
3 Stuffed animals (with stuffing carried throughout the house)
2 Wooden Beads
1 Window Screen
1 Baby Gate
1 Bowl of Mini Wheats

And that is only a short list of things that were left behind with a remnant for evidence. I can't imagine what foreign objects lie within the bowels of this canine...

We're on Day 4 or 5 of the trip. I ALMOST put them all in the outdoor shed after the Red Uniball explosion as that was the result of a third escape from the sunroom at 6:00 am. The escape was accomplished by pulling at the weather stripping underneath two closed doors, which then pulled the doors open and released the hound to do her bloody red business...so to speak. Her life would have been extinguished if she had decided to carry the ball point pen over to the freshly carpeted side of the house.

The first escape took place sometime during the morning hours of Sunday, when all three dogs busted through a window screen, and then busted a hole through a baby gated deck. Dogs are much harder than kids. I don't know how my sister-in-law does it. But I can tell you that 4 dogs, plus 3 kids, plus toys and homeschooling supplies strewn around the house is a disaster from the get go. You just can't win with that formula.

Missing: One Rolodex Thingy

As promised, each week I will be sharing with you a portion of how the Knucker Hatch household runs. Last week, I revealed our laundry management system that falls on every Monday. Tuesdays, are reserved for bathroom duty. But after cleaning SIX toilets today, the last thing I feel like doing tonight is blogging about the worst chore ever invented. I'll save my blogging about bathroom routines for a day other than the dreaded bathroom day. So this Tuesday, I'll give you a glimpse into how I try, (and I do stress try) to keep things organized. More specifically, how I manage keeping track of the daily outside activities and appointments for a busy family.

Does anybody else out there have a mother that keeps one calendar on a wall somewhere, but honestly that is just for back-up, because she has an unbelievable Rolodex in her head? When I was growing up, my mother amazed me with her ability to rattle off everyone's birthday. I can remember thinking, that when I grew up, I would one day get one of those Rolodex thingys in my head. Sadly, I never received the Rolodex thingy. I'm horrible with five very important and basic things in life: names, birthdays, phone numbers, anniversaries, and anything that requires RSVPing.

I'll give you one example that will immediately make you understand how much I stink at this side of life management:

I have a cell phone. I couldn't tell you to save my life my cell phone number.
On a really bad day, I will hesitate before I can tell you the full birthdate of one of my children.

I learned a long time ago, that to keep up with the Rolodex Mom's in this world, I would need to write it all down. In essence, I don't think I have ever departed from the required "Assignment Notebook" all of us as teenagers carried around in junior high and high school. It is tempting to go all electronic with my information management, of which I partially do, however, I need to have a hard copy at my finger tips. Leaving notes on a wall calendar in my kitchen doesn't help the helpless. I need it to be portable. As a result, almost every year I have used a bound monthly calendar to stay organized.


Last year, I stumbled upon a wonderful calendar/organizer created specifically for mothers with children by a company called MomAgenda. In addition to the monthly calendar in the front, each week is laid out with space for myself plus individual spaces for four children. I use different colored happy face stickers to identify each child's weekly row. There's even a space for dinner plans. I have enjoyed the classy feel of this calendar, and it's many, many extras that are included. It is the only bound calendar I have found that allows me to manage my entire family's numerous outings and activities. Last week, I purchased my second refill for the Pink Executive Portfolio Tom Builder surprised me with last year. (MomAgenda calendars are 17 month day planners beginning in August.)

This is my Rolodex ladies. This is the only reason I know what pregnancy week I am in. It allows me to write it down, and permits me then to let go and forget it. My only responsibility is to check it every day, BEFORE my day begins. So how do you survive the day to day grind? Are you a mental Rolodex Mama, or do you use another method to keep life organized?

Airing Out The Dirty Laundry

I am always interested to know how other mothers manage their daily tasks. Whether you are sharing with me how many baths your kids get a week or I am sympathizing with the more mundane bathroom cleaning. There is this drive inside of me to be more efficient. More organized. It's a sickness really. But I constantly have my ears and eyes on the look out for tips and tricks used by other veteran managers of the home.

I thought I'd start a new series of weekly posts sharing how we at the Knucker Hatch home manage some of our "stuff". And in return, I'd love to hear from you, and how your day goes on these topics. Are you game?

Let's work from the bottom up: Mondays. I don't know about your house, but Mondays are the heart of the Mother-Lode work week here. Second only to Tuesdays. Mondays are all about the ever prevailing, never ending laundry. Other than the daily tasks that are required around the house, laundry management is my sole focus. It used to be that I followed the FlyLady's philosophy on laundry which required a load a day, but after trying that method for a year, I quite honestly grew tired of having to look at laundry every stinkin' day. Just give it to me square on for a full day, and let me be done with the entire ugly thing for the rest of the week.


I know my limitations on this however. And I have a two too many loads to do, to get things completed on Monday before I grow weary of the assembly line. Almost always, I never get that last load out of the dryer and it sits for a week. So to offset this pitfall, I usually start Sunday evening with two loads that require very little attention, or if I don't do Sunday evening, I'll save these loads for last: the table cloth and towels loads. That way, if they sit all week in a drier, no one cares if they are wrinkled, and there is no big loss. Or if I get them washed Sunday, they can sit over night in the drier until Monday when I throw the first clothes load in.

I will confess that with the new house we have two working laundry rooms. However, with 10 loads of laundry to do, it is still quite a project to tackle, requiring firm commitment to complete. For the extra nitty gritty details I'll share that I am a liquid Tide, Bounce drier sheet, Oxi-Clean stain removal user. TMI, I know.


What may make our house different than your own, is our closet management. This is something that I started after moving into our new house, and it has been one of the best changes in my life of laundry and closet management. I have often read how larger families have found it liberating to pool all of their clothes into one hanging closet. I wasn't sure I would like that idea, but I decided to give it a try when we moved to the farm house. We have a large walk in closet on the older side of the house, which is also the side we do all living in right now...aside from sleeping. There is room enough for my daily clothes and all of the children's clothes. The clothes are on low enough poles that the children can access their own, and we hang everything short of underwear and pants/shorts. Ken has his own closet in the master which still works well for him. Each child has their own PJ bin on the floor. High above, are storage bins of clothing and shoes sizes that are not in use.


Two things have resulted in using primarily one closet. First, I have more control over the daily mess that can occur in the closet, rather than being surprised with a trashed closet every week, and I can stay on top of the kid's habits better. (Mom's you know what I am talking about here.) Their rooms stay amazingly clean since all clothing and baskets reside in a closet on the other side of the house.

Secondly, when I put laundry away, I go to one closet. No more trips through three rooms to deposit all of the clothing. No more going to three different rooms when the kids need help with clothing selections or dressing. And the added bonus is all hangers and dirty laundry are in one location. Ahhh....consolidation.

We still use our dressers for winter clothing storage. But honestly, most of them are empty with the use of one closet. The extra closet space is used for other needed storage. I can tell you, that once I was over the "oddness" of using one closet, the entire concept was a dream.

So there you have it. My dirty laundry. Monday is laundry day at the Knucker Hatch house, we do it all in one day, and we use a one closet management system. How do you manage your laundry and clothing? And readers want to know...What is your laundry detergent formula?

Home Alone Again

(insert Willie Nelson tune of On the Road Again)

Home alone again
Just can't wait to get Tom Builder home again
It feels like this moving thing is never going to end
And I can't wait to get on with life again

Home alone again
He's gone and left me with these kids again
Crumb crunching children who undo organ-i-zation
Mom has gone and lost her head while home again

Home alone again
I've got two more weeks of on my own again
Who were we kidding
So much for middle May
We'll be lucky if we're ready by Christmas Day

Home alone again
The belly's growing large and round again
Bending, lifting, and climbing stairs are not my friends
Summer heat, and napless Faith confirm
I'll never move again

Home alone again
Just got to keep the faith and think "Little Blue Engine"
Oh, I can't wait to get on with life again.
Oh, I can't wait to get on with life again.

I'm A Pooped Pooper Scooper

Day FOUR. One more to go. It's been four days since Mr. Incredible left me with three wiggly children who have not been homeschooled for two weeks. I don't know what it is about homeschooling, but it sets the pace of the day, and gives the children a feeling of accomplishment. It also must give them a sense of freedom when the work is done, because the bickering is much less. But after two weeks of school break and now four days of the "alpha male" being absent, not to mention the incessant moving duties, I'm about to chew my left arm off.

By 4PM all I can think is, "I can't wait until I am tucking every last one of you in bed, and I have a moment of peace." Translation..."I want to hit the farm alone." And for over a week, that is exactly what I am doing. After a full day of managing the home, I am more than willing to get outside in the cool evening and manage the farm. I've been bonding with the miniature horses, who will soon be finding a new home (we are told) at a center for disadvantaged children. With their winter woolies coming out in tufts, and with their current owner never showing up on the premises to pay much attention to them, I made it my mission this week to get reacquainted with horse care and grooming...ehem...starting in miniature.

I only have a year of riding under my belt, and that was back in college. And I'll admit it has taken me a bit to find my self confidence and relearn how to become part of the herd. Believe it or not, the most difficult horse on the premises is the miniature stallion. He can turn at a moments notice and give you a drive by charge. Being preggo with Baby Hope, I've been extra cautious, but still determined to bond with the little dynamo. My heart, however, is set on the gelding. He and I have turned into buds. He patiently lets me harness and lead him, or spend hours grooming him, and in return he gets to visit a green bit of pasture instead of his dirt pen.

Tonight I shoveled miniature horse poop. How cute is that? Horse poop in miniature. The horse poop piles had turned into horse poop lanes, so I decided to get out there and get my hands dirty. Three large wheelbarrows full of the stuff. But it was lovely. Just me, my shovel, the horses, and poop. Nobody said a word. Tomorrow, if someone gave me the choice of 8 hours with my children or 8 hours with a shovel...I think I'd take the mute and well behaved shovel.

But then again, shovels don't give adorable forehead kisses.
Tough call.

Confessions of a Do It Yourself Woman

This week was officially declared by Tom Builder to be "moving week". Hence the sans blogging on my part. It has been an exhausting week with sunny visits inbetween. Tomorrow, the movers come to pick up all of the big heavy furniture. Today, the painters come to paint the house going up on the market a neutral color. And this morning, we interviewed our second interior designer to help us with the new house.

Yep...you read that last part right. For two die hard do-it-yourself-ers this is a big step in acknowledging that we can't do it all ourself on this one. Two houses all connected together is a bit much to coordinate. It is also a large step towards swallowing some major pride as a woman. These days, there is great pressure to be Martha Stewarts and do everything by hand. Beautifully. Creatively. Simply. (And then of course for the conservative homeschooling mother, we should be grinding our own grain.) But I'm biting the bullet, and keeping an open mind. As we delve further into the interior deco world, I'm getting more relaxed about the entire thing.

It would take me years to accomplish what an interior decorator with a good hand and reliable contractors could do in hours. And I need to face the fact that what I could whip up 10 years ago (not that I was any good folks), is not happening with land, babies and schooling. I mean, I honestly haven't had the chance to go get my unibrow waxed and my hair cut in almost over a year. Poor Tom Builder has been dealing with scrubs material, for pete's sake. Look at that hair! This is my head all day every day - twist and a clip. (Thanks to my wonderful sister-in-law Kristy who made us an amazing handmade made desk calendar with family photos, I've been staring at the oh-so younger version of me and Tom Builder in our engagement photos this month. It's getting to me.)


But honestly, when am I going to have the time to decorate two kitchens, six bathrooms, and six bedrooms?? I want to dream and plan over chickens, horses, a rip roaring garden, and an adorable baby we'll know the gender of on Monday...and perhaps get my tail back into a salon. Not fuss over fabrics and finishes. Can you tell I'm trying to talk myself into this?

To give you an idea of how controlling I am with things of the home, I would never, NEVER, participate in a Trading Spaces episode. Love to watch the show, but would never want any room my house to be the brunt of someone else's style and creativity. I wouldn't be the one that cried because I hated it, but you can bet I'd be at Home Depot that evening picking out the paint color I'd be using to paint over the newly decorated walls. For me, hiring an interior decorator is equivalent to a person afraid of heights deciding to walk along The Great Wall of China.

We'll also be looking into hiring a landscape design service...another major gulp of pride for me the gardener girl. I must stress this is all rolling out in phases over many years. But this is now our home for decades out, and we want it to feel like a retreat away from home for our friends and family. It needs a professional touch. Someone who does this for a living. It is just really hard to admit that person should not, and couldn't possibly be me the control freak. {gulp}

About This Moving Thing

Honestly? Cards all laid out on the table...This is really hard. How do people with kids who stay at home ALL DAY move? Is there a temporary public school out there that just takes kids for about three weeks while Moms make sixty thousand trips with overstuffed minivans? By the time I take all the children with me and trek back to the old house, and grab our school work to tackle while we are there, I've got a passenger side seat and a trunk available. Its ridiculous. Then there are my really stupid days when I let the dog come with us.

Ken bought one of those nifty WorkSport trailers that hauls a boat load of stuff, but that would require me to be a braver animal then a chicken to haul things with it. And so I creep. Along. Agonizingly. Slow. Each kitchen cabinet in TWO kitchens, needs thorough wash downs to disintegrate the grime and the kitty hair left behind. Meanwhile the baby is found scribbling with four markers on the freshly painted walls of the new playroom, or can be found swishing her hands around in the closest toilet (for the third time that day). And then of course there are all of the daily requirements that don't disappear when you move: the groceries, the cleaning, the laundry, the yogurt, cocoa puffs, ketchup and juice spills in the last 12 hours, dinners. The demanding baby who has discovered how to whip up screaming temper tantrums and is tired of being fifth string, wanting her Mom to just sit and be still.

Add a deadline to the mix of May 15th for placing our old house on the market, that needs its own TLC, and its paralyzing. I feel like I am trying to run in water. So in case you started to think we were all tip toeing through the buttercups, and toe dipping all day in the crystal blue water, this is what is REALLY brewing 95% of the day.

We really do live in paradise though...check out the double rainbow smack over our farm from last week.

I Fold Pajamas Because...

As I stood this weekend folding an entire Google Plex of laundry, I caught myself contemplating how on earth I was going to do life if one more responsibility walked into this family's schedule. Where in the world was the much needed 25th hour of the day going to come from? Glancing down as I neatly folded the ninth pair of kiddie PJs, I paused.

I fold pajamas. WHY, I ask you, do I take the time to fold pajamas?

WHAT. Am I worried that someone is going to catch our entire family in our PJs one morning and actually think to themselves, "Look at that family! They look like they slept in those clothes. Who dresses them?"

Has Anyone Seen September?

It has been forever and a day since I've opened up a blogger window. There is a time to blog, and September wasn't it. Everything was more important. Taking care of a sick family, spending precious time with my husband, homeschooling, preparing to lead my Women's Bible study, or trying to keep up with a just turned 8 month old who is already cruising like there is no tomorrow. It all took top priority.

Yep. She is CRUISING. When Faith is on her toes, we ALL are on our toes. Just today I caught her peeking out the window. It doesn't get any more precious than this...

In the morning she toodles around the crib from one side to the other. Every morning, it takes me by surprise. The petite little 16 pounder doesn't seem like she should be able to make such fine tuned motor coordinations. It looks surreal. But the beaming glow on her face, is very real. Pride never looked so cute.

On a daring day Faith will hang in the air before she reaches over for the next piece of furniture. She's discovered the stairs, but has only braved the first step. The little toot is a daredevil though...again a glimpse from today...


I've learned the hard way on some things. Asking the children to watch Faith for a moment so Mom can use the loo for two minutes, is NOT a safe idea. Two minutes is enough for Faith to raid the dog's kibble dish and then move on to taking a giant bath in the dog's water dish (while the kids look on in half paralyzed horror and half "let's see what she does next".) I find that I now have to pay closer attention to the older children. Grace wants to carry her everywhere, and Jack can't seem to be less than two inches away from her. In September, we went from code "Yellow" to code "Red" in two weeks.

The cuteness factor makes it so worth it...


...and so do the naps. I have NAPS now!!! Finally she is exerting enough effort to send her into two hour slumbers. And it is wonderful!

BLOG UPDATE: No sooner than after I hit the publish button, the children were sounding the code red alert. As if to put a giant exclamation point behind my entire post, I wanted to add one more visual aid. Apparently Faith considered my mention of hanging out no further than the first stair a challenge. In the time that it took me to blog this post, she decided to work a little harder...

Now you understand. This is my world folks!!!!!

Eeeny---Meeny----Mighty----Cold

I think we've bought what would qualify as a Mini Mart drugstore. We are a prime example of how panic can set in when everyone in the entire family comes down with a rotten cold. All I wanted was one box. One box of Tylenol's Concentrated Cold Drops for Infants. But the little drops evaded us wherever we looked.

I'm not sure what these drug companies are thinking sometimes. When you are sick, and all of your little ones are hacking up green goo you can barely see straight. However, you find yourself blindly trying to pick the wonder drug of the year, while you read through a small font all of the symptoms on the box that the medicine claims to aid. With chagrin, I picked Dimetapp's Cold & Cough medicine for children, hoping I could sneak the larger liquid amount in Faith's pears or something. The medicine had a laundry list of relief for Nasal Congestion, Runny Nose, Itchy, Watery Eyes, Coughing, and Sneezing. In my stupor, I just assumed a fever would be covered too. Silly me.

Trip 1: My purchased loot.

Ken takes the next shift and goes back to the store, looking for those prized infant drops. He comes back with loads more drugs. But no drops.

Trip 2: Ken's purchased loot.
Three miserable nights, 2 empty Kleenex boxes, and more kiddie throw up later, Ken goes BACK to another store looking for the holy grail of infant cold drops. I swear these drugs can only be found on the black market. You literally need an ID to buy these bad boys.

JACKPOT and Alleluia!!! He finds the drops. In a store I have looked twice in before (when my mommy instinct kicked in and I thought I should be prepared for a week like this). In typical father style, he buys two boxes. And then he buys two boxes of other stuff. And then three more boxes of stuff for good measure. God love him.

Trip 3: Ken's purchased loot w/ the Holy Grail.
This will never, NEVER, happen again. Why? Because next time, we'll be ready. REALLY ready. You think?

Junk

There are two parts of my day that I can count on for peace. In the morning, I enjoy a fresh cup of coffee with yogurt, a happy squealish baby in her excerbuggy, and a warm dog snuggled up in the arm chair. It is a wonderful time. It is my favorite time of the day because I know there is a consistent level of predictability and happiness.

As the hours pass, a gradual state of decline follows. Predictability goes out the window, and truthfully, much of the happiness. There are days (like yesterday) where my little nugget decides that one full hour of sleep will be all she needs for her 12 hour day. Two 1/2 hour naps. Just enough time to eat lunch and cry a pity river. On days like these, the mail is my best friend. It keeps Faith entertained (and fed) for a lovely hour. How I love junk mail.


I know there are some mothers out there who are shocked and alarmed at how I allow my child to chomp all over magazine paper that has been in the dirty mail. I assure you she is supervised, but other than that...she can have at it. When your child doesn't sleep, by about 2:00pm all bets are off and junk mail becomes golden. I can't get this child to eat a spoonful of bananas, but she'll shove the Halloween specials in her mouth with gusto. Faith shows no mercy in the arena of catalogs - literally ripping the paper with her mouth from her hands like she's a lion wrestling meat off an antelope.

Watching Faith wiggle and giggle about in a sea of unsolicited mail, is a daily reminder to not try so hard. A metaphor to find the joy buried in the junk and boredom. I have a hard wired need to feel like I have accomplished a task or four in my day, and it is hard for me to feel like I've accomplished anything on a mediocre day. It bothers me. Like I've wasted the day watching the carpet collect dirt. Ken keeps suggesting we hire a cleaner to help lighten the load, and is always surprised to hear an emphatic "NO!" with a hint of panic in my voice. If I didn't have the opportunity to feel like I've at least accomplished something through cleaning a room or two during the day I might crawl in a hole.

I am longing for cooler days, so the children and I can at least go outside mid-day to the park, or for a walk. Something, ANYTHING, to divide up the day that doesn't involve a shopping cart or an errand list.

Forced Sabbatical

I had one of THOSE weeks last week. Some bloggers have been there. A week where frankly, I've got plenty to say, but no energy to say, and no will to blog. Just didn't feel like it. I kind of surprised myself with my blog lethargy.

Faith had a tough week dealing with her first cold. Which meant that Mom had a sleep challenged week along with her. Faith could make it only a few hours at a time before giving up on the Land of Nod and deciding to hunker down for an hour or two at 3:00am in the Land of Play with Toys and Watch Old FOX News Reels. (yes..the TV is back on since football season has arrived).

The week included few showers, way too many bouts with reflux and puke on top of the cold, and as a result, hanging out like this, while I tried to go about the rest of my day in a dragging stupor that coffee couldn't remedy.


To top off the end of the week, Mr. Hatch took advantage of an unattended open door, and chased after God knows what (I heard him crying) to disappear for an entire night. I was nursing upstairs, so he had a good half hour or more to get out of dodge.

Yep. Lots of tears on that one. Remember this post? Far from coincidence when you consider that Hatch just happened to run off only minutes after Ken had left for his first Elder meeting. I can tell you it is almost an impossible feat to look for a dog when you are dog tired yourself, your baby is SO ready for bed, every emotion in the book is boiling in your blood at the turn of events, your husband is unavailable to help, and you are trying to drive slowly, but quickly as the daylight comes to a close.

My beloved husband, even after a very full day, spent a good hour in the middle of the night on the prowl for Hatch, but to no avail. Thankfully, after printing out about 60 signs the next morning, we discovered Hatch dazed and confused in a neighboring development. It took him two days to recover from his exhaustion. We are ALL very happy for his return safely. Hatch has an new spring in his step. He's started giving wet kisses, and we just discovered the boy can suddenly lose it, and madly run laps around the house when his happiness overcomes him. It is as if he has realized that our family actually WANTS to keep him. The family passed the Search & Rescue test. Apparently, in his opinion, our house has qualified for the designation of HOME.

We did have some sweet times. One of my personal favorites was Faith's first experience with a biter biscuit. We actually quit doing the solids thing after a week. She's not interested. The child might go straight to eating filet mignon and skip the mush. But, my friends...a biter biscuit was much more fun!

The Truth On Diaper Disposal

Pure honesty. Let's just go there for a moment. How many of you abandoned your lovely thing-a-ma-bobbers which now only serve to take up space in a closet...


...for something a little more practical...
Another dose of truth: This has been the diaper disposal protocol since a month into the life of our firstborn. With every new child, I swear I'll be better with the diaper genie. I'm thrice a failure. But it is sooooo much easier to dunk then lift, push, twist, twist, and close.

Ok...one more for discussion: How many of you get your diaper genie thingys back out of the closet when you have company coming over with babes in diapers? Yeah. I gave that up come baby number two.

Oh Look! A Post About Babies & Dogs.

How original. I just can't help myself. I'll try and stop...after this post. But, put dogs and babies together, those great wide spheres o'happiness, and my heart melteth.

This moment begged for a photo. This isn't so much Hatch snuggling with Faith as it is Hatch saw me coming in Faith's general direction so he flopped down next to Faith to get a piece of lovin' action. Faith, capitalized on the moment and decided to get a piece of her own lovin' action laying a solid grip around Hatch's fur.

Mr. Hatch's personality is starting to come out of his shell. He's a trip. The dog knows how to milk a good thing, and could qualify as one of the biggest pushovers on the face of God's green earth. He's a dreamboat dog.


Yesterday, I felt like SuperMOM walking into the vet with a baby on my back, two kids in tow, one gerbil in a cage, and one happy go lucky dog. Minus the double trips for moving dogs and gerbils around, the visit went well (for all but the pet gerbil). It was worth the extra effort in that we weren't leaving the vet with just a euthanized dead gerbil to bury, but we had a very happy, healthy dog going home with us.

Jack was still very sad. While the gerbil was in the back room for the final countdown, I tried my best to keep the situation positive talking about the bright side of Marly's soon to be new and improved life. At one point, the thoughts overwhelmed Jack and he dropped into a corner on his knees and quickly said, "I need to think about something else." Jack's in need of extra warm hugs these days. Sad one moment, and angrily drop kicking his big sister the next moment.

Except for some "slightly arthritic back knees", Hatch walked out with a clean bill of health, stunning the staff with his adorable demeanor and manners. The vet's opinion is Hatch is a golden/collie mix (too big for a Spitz), around 2-3 years of age. We've got a lot of years to look forward to with Mr. Hatch. Which is terrific news for all of us.

The Dog Days of Summer

How many tears can one shed over a family dog? Our ol' girl is in such a bad way. Her bounce back over chicken has gone and left. And we've tried to pull her out of what appears to be a dark depression. We're back to vomiting, not eating a lick, and the tremors. This morning, she lost control of her bladder.

Her eyes tell me she's ready to begin her walk toward Glory. I'm not so sure I'm ready for it though. I wish I knew how to help her. How to best comfort her as she prepares for this journey. For some reason we've been kept in the dark on what ails her so, since all of the tests came back showing nothing. This would be slightly easier if I knew she was riddled with disease.

I've prayed over her, spent hours at her side, and asked the good Lord above to shower her with His warm lovingkindness and gently take her home. It is so hard to pray that kind of prayer. The miracle believer in me still holds a white knuckle grip on faith that the Lord will restore her back to health if it is His will. The very idea of euthanizing her is paralyzing. The last thing I want to do is drag her once more to the vet to lay in a cold sterile unfamiliar room. I want her to be surrounded by the warmth of home. Both sides of the coin feel cruel.

The tears just keep flowing fresh...
This is definitely not an eye makeup day. Blah.

I'm So Tired.

I know this is horrible of me to blog about, just coming off of a vacation and all, but it is so true. Truth is, nursing gets to be very hard on my body at about five months. I remember feeling like a walking skeleton after 8 months of nursing Grace. I'm a few pounds shy of my pre-pregnancy weight, and while this is great news in some respects, I can feel my body beginning the desperate search for reserves. And then there are the hot flashes, and the loss of hair in biblical drain clogging proportions as my body goes through pregnancy withdrawal.

This past week, I feel like I have aged by 10 years. It is the hardest it has ever been for me to wake up and start the day. As soon as my feet hit the ground they feel like they have been walking all night. My shoulders ache and my eyes refuse to let the light in. Meanwhile, Faith is ready to hit the ground running with her toothless grin, and froggy kick. God bless her.

This past week, Faith has decided to be an early riser, speedy napper, and a night owl. It is nine by the time she feels like turning in. And I am SO SPENT! Faith, is still waking up for at least one night time feeding, which isn't helping the recouping, but her smile certainly helps to ease getting through the morning sludge.

I'm trying to keep things in perspective knowing that 5-8 months is the hardest haul for me physically with childrearing. It won't always be like this. I'm passing the time this week daydreaming about starting my little girl on solids soon. And as if I'm not already crazy enough, I'm leaning toward making my own baby food for the first time. I must be nuts.

I guess the only other thing I need to start doing to be in the same place as the "far righters" and ironically the "far lefters" is begin cloth diapering. Don't hold your breath...
I can still remember the stomach turning smell of the diaper pail in the nursery from my childhood. (Nothing can undo that horrible olfactory memory ingrained in my brain cells.) I'll stop at the homemade baby food, thank you very much. That's as gran-nutty as I get.

Vacation! Vacation?

If I could sum up our vacation in two words, the title would be perfect. I'm a "glass is half full" girl, but I have been trying really hard focus on all of the wonderful good that our vacation generated. The first part of our vacation was spent with Ken's family in an unbelievable beach house just off the coast in Nags Head, NC. We had the beach, house pool, and hot tub just outside our door. I couldn't have asked for anything beach-ier. Mr. Alberto did drop a boat load of rain and wind in the middle of the week, but after the storm had passed the waves were perfect for boogie boarding for the next few days.



The company was excellent. The food was divine. I was deep into a good book. Faith was loving the new scenery and faces. Grace and Jack were well behaved and cheery children. All of the cousins got along so well. We had three babies under the age of 18 months in the house, and at times we joked that we were residing in a church nursery. The babies were a new joy to have around as they were but an inkling in the 2004 Beach Trip.


Where the vacation breaks down, is that a few days into the vacation a little bug started flying around. Just a fever, and a sore throat. A few cousins caught it. A couple of adults were battling a different kind of bug. I myself had spent a couple of hours in the bathroom in the middle of one night a hair away from losing all of my cookies, but I attributed it to a very spicy crab cake. As we packed up the car to head to Florida for my family's side of the vacation, I couldn't believe we had survived the bout with illness. Our kids had been unscathed. This I had immediately attributed to only the Grace of God. We actually have a name for a curse that appears to be on our household over the last five years...as every time we go on a vacation we get some gut wrenching illness that spreads like wildfire.

So we hopped in the car and headed to Kissimee, Florida. Deciding to divide the ride up into two days, we settled in Savannah. The curse...followed. That night, Faith came down with a 102 temperature, and congestion. She was a furnace and it was a miserable night for her. Jack reacted to the mite infested sofa bed and needed a breathing treatment in the morning. We hadn't escaped. I had no idea what our week would have in store. It could have been just the beginning. It was also Faith's first illness (not vaccination induced).

I felt like an absolute heel that morning. I had to tell the children, we had to double back home. No Disney World. No Sea World. No Grandpa. I had to call my father on Father's Day, of all days, and tell him we wouldn't be coming down for the week. And my little girl had to endure more hours in a car, with a sky rocket temperature. I felt like I had been wrapped up in a blanket of guilt.

The children took it so well. They really did. I was so proud of them. They were disappointed, but I had ignorance on my side, as they had never been to Disney World or Sea World before, so they had no idea exactly what they were missing. Faith endured her high temps without medicine (meds make her puke) and the fever broke the following night. She still has the nose stuff, but the wee one is feeling much better.

So we're home. I feel rested. I've been able to find the blessing in that the Lord allowed our family to go completely untouched for the first week so that we could truly relax. I've come home to my favorite flowers (scarlet bee balm) blooming in the garden that I thought I would miss during my absence. I have to believe that there was a reason we had to come home a week early. The Lord wanted us back home. And here we are. After all of it, vacation and missed vacation, it feels good to be home.