In A Perfect World....

My son T. likes to make books with his little sister. I found this one on the kitchen counter yesterday morning.

The story and illustrations pulled at my heartstrings. Bullying seems to be in the forefront lately; it's on the news, on the covers of magazines, I hear of my children's friends being tormented, and I have been dealing with the issue in my own household.

I, myself, was bullied as a child and know the hell a bully can put you through.

Maybe some day tolerance and acceptance will allow for an outcome, like my son has portrayed in his story, for everyone.

We can only hope and pray.

He Needs Spell Check and His Teacher, Probably Some Smelling Salts

My two youngest children are learning like crazy this year at school. They have both learned how to read. And T. is beginning to spell.

They are like little sponges.

It's amazing to watch how quickly they catch on. One day they can barely sound out the word cat and the next day they are reading books to me.

It is quite awesome.

T. had homework last week that involved measuring area. He was to draw a shape and then place pennies within that shape. Next he needed to record how many pennies were able to fit inside the shape.

He wanted NO help in spelling any of the words.


Next he needed to compare the pennies to the space quarters would take up. Could he fit more pennies in the shape or more quarters?



Is it me or does that "n" seem to illustrate his answer?

I Wonder If Our Insurance Will Cover That

My boys can be somewhat obsessive at times.

When their minds lock on to something, you'd better go run and hide because they are going to drive you completely batty.

They will talk incessantly about it. They will ask over and over and over again if they can have it, do it, see it, touch it, eat it, buy it, or use it.

It's enough to drive me to drink. Not that I need an excuse for that.

A friend of W.'s recently got glasses. All of a sudden, my boys went blind. They begged and pleaded for me to take them to get glasses, "RIGHT AWAY!"

T. feigned headaches. W. began squinting at the television.

"Your eyes are totally fine!" I informed them. "T., you just had yours checked at the pediatrician. And didn't you, W., just have the school nurse perform eye exams?"

They looked at each other and then back to me, in unison they whined, "Moooommmm! Our eyes are bad now!"

I rolled mine and walked away.

For the next three days they pestered me. "Did you make us appointments with the eye doctor yet?" and "When are we going to get our glasses?"

W. must have gotten tired of me telling him that the doctor was out of the country because on the fourth day, the school nurse called.

"Hi, Mrs. Schmitty? I have W. here. He's saying that he's having problems seeing the board in class and that he's been having headaches."

Oooooohhhh, that little booger!

I asked the nurse if they had just recently given the eye exams. She told me they had and he had done fine.

Ummmm hmmmm.

I explained the situation to her and asked her to send his ass him back to class and that I would beat speak to him when he got home.

About thirty minutes after I hung up with the nurse, the phone rang again. I saw the school's number on the caller id.

"Mrs. Schmitty? I just gave W. another eye exam. I'm going to send home a letter that recommends he be examined by his doctor. His vision is 20/50 in both eyes."

I burst out laughing.

"Thank you, I'll take care of everything."

Upon arriving home, W. handed me the letter from the nurse. "Did you make my appointment?"

"Don't worry honey, I'll handle it."

It's been two weeks since I received the nurses recommendation letter. Both boys have moved on to obsessing about the new flavor of gum they want to try. Their headaches are gone. The squinting has stopped.

At dinner last night I said to W., "Wow! It was truly amazing how you read that small print on the television last night! I guess your eyesight has been restored! It's a miracle!"

He grinned his special, I can't lie to mom because she knows me too well grin.

"W., I am going to make an appointment for you with a doctor."

"You are?" He questioned.

"Sure, you need to go see a proctologist to get an enema because you are full of poop!"

For Sale: Two Boys

The boys have been driving me crazy lately.

I'm sure it's their age. I'm sure it's this stage of their development. But seriously? Military school has been in the forefront of my mind these days. Either that or I'm auctioning them off on Ebay.

W. has been having focusing issues. Again. His homework that should take an hour, is taking HOURS. His grades are all over the place. We've crawled up his ass again, so we are more aware of when he has tests. We study, study, study with him and yet, though he seems to know the material, he'll still sometimes come home with a low grade. And then the next time, he'll ace it.

It's confusing the hell out of me.

T. has been going through a rebellious, obnoxious, whiny, "I hate you" stage. Quite honestly, I believe that the child that has always been my easiest, has been abducted by aliens.

And the roughhousing! Oy!

That is ALL they do. It is constant. And without fail, T. will get hurt. He engages in it, laughing away, and within minutes, the crying starts.

There is a four and a half year age difference and never mind the fact that W. doesn't always know how to stop the wheels in motion. Sometimes he doesn't get when enough is enough.

Please someone tell me that they are going to grow out of this. Tell me this too shall pass.

Mama needs a cocktail.

Hey Mom, Back Me Up

I've had a horrible cough for what seems like forever. Actually, I think it's a second round of a cough. Allergies started it in October and once the cold weather set in, it began to go away.

Well, it's come back with a vengeance.

I've been hacking up a lung the past four nights in a row. The living room couch has become my home so I don't keep the entire family up with my barking.

I'm freaking exhausted.

This morning I MADE myself get into the shower, because seriously, I couldn't stand the stench anymore.

I told the kids that I'd only be about ten minutes and to please behave.

Pfffft.

Two minutes in and I could hear T. and R. arguing. Damn it, I wasn't even going to be able to shave my legs.

As the two of them shouted over each other through the bathroom door, I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair and hopped out of the tub.

Now, I would normally have just let them duke it out, but the lack of sleep and the fact that I forgot to take my happy pill this morning, just wouldn't allow me to tune out the ruckus.

I wrapped a towel around my body and flew open the door.

"Can't I even get a shower in peace?!"

They proceeded to spout he said/she said words at me. All I heard was "Wah, wah, wah."

"Enough! If you can't get along, just stay away from each other, please!"

T. turned and ran up the stairs. He was probably off to antagonize his brother.

R. stood and looked at me. I could see a lump in her cheek. She was rolling her tongue around on the inside of her mouth. This is something new she does, which immediately tells me that she is going to tell me she did something I would not approve of.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Um, mom, did you hear me call T. a bad word?"

"No, I didn't. But you aren't allowed to use bad words, are you?"

"No, but he was being mean."

"Well, it's not okay for you to call him bad words. What do you think I should do about this?"

Her sweet little face looked up at me and she said, "You should call him a bigger bad word."

Ahhhh, the mind of a six year old.

Why Do The Girls Always Get The Crappy End Of The Deal?

I was helping R. get ready for school the other day. She was tired and not very motivated. I grabbed her clothes and told her I would help her get dressed.

"Why are you getting me dressed?" She asked.

"Well, you seem to need a little help this morning."

She began to wiggle and be less than cooperative as I tried to put her dress over her head.

"C'mon R.! Mommy's getting too old for this!"

She giggled.

"That's funny?" I giggled back. "Will you let me come live with you when I'm really old?"

"Yes, mommy!!"

"You might have to help ME get dressed." I said.

"I will!"

Suddenly I heard T. shout from his bedroom, "Mom, you can come live with me!"

"Awwwww!" I thought to myself. My boy loves his mama!

"Really, T.? I can? You'll take care of me? Make me dinner? Take me to doctor's appointments? Help me find my teeth?"

He laughed and said, "YES!!"

"You'll even change my diaper?"

Silence.

"You know what? You can go live with R."

Definitely NOT a Kodak Moment

Tonight, after attending a wake together, our best friends came back to our house for a drink of wine and a bite to eat.

We all sat around my dining room table, eating, drinking, and talking.

Suddenly, as he stared at me with widened eyes, Mr. Schmitty said, "OH! I forgot, I have to show you something!!"

"Uh-oh, that doesn't sound like a good thing!" I responded as I mocked a concerned look. Everyone at the table laughed.

Mr. Schmitty approached me carrying a Nintendo DSi. As each of my children owns one, I wasn't sure who was the subject matter for the situation.

"Okay, who did what?" I inquired, still giggling as I figured I was about to see something very funny.

For those of you that do not know, the DSi has a built in camera and comes with software that allows you to manipulate photos into hilarious pictures.

Mr. Schmitty handed me the opened, blue DSi. I glanced down and the smile was immediately erased from my face. My mouth hit the floor and I let out a sound, one I can't really describe. It was one of utter disbelief.

I slammed the DSi shut.

I looked up at all of those around me. Their eyes questioned.

"Oh My God!! Did...did...did you talk to him?!" I asked Mr. Schmitty.

"No. I haven't had a chance."

"When did you find THAT?!" I asked.

"At the doctor's office."

"THAT.WAS.7.HOURS.AGO!!! AND NOW YOU TELL ME?"

I was completely flabbergasted.

My son, my middle, innocent child, T. had taken not one, but TWO close up pictures of his "WENIS", as he likes to call it.

It looked like kiddie porn!!

I quickly deleted the photos. Just then T. came up to me. He saw the DSi in my hands and asked if it were his.

"UM yea....and I'm not too happy about what I saw on it."

He began to chuckle.

"NOT funny, dude. We NEED to talk."

Please someone tell me that raising boys gets easier!!!

My Sister's Got Cooties!

T. loves to give me kisses. And I, of course, LOVE to get them. He's got the most adorable lips, ones that are going to make some girl very happy some day.

Well, as long as I approve of her first, that is. heh.

I can get kisses from T. whenever I want. He's only six and not embarrassed by kissing his mom - YET. But, other than myself, he is very particular as to whom he shares kisses with. If he's not in a giving mood, he really needs to be coaxed. He's even snubbed his Grandmothers a time or two.

And if you are a female sibling of his; you might as well mooooove on.

I have a policy at home. After my children have had an argument, I like to see them hug one another and apologize. I try to emphasize that everyone has disagreements, but we are family and we still love and respect each other.

One such altercation took place not too long ago. After sending both fighters to their opposite corners for a time-out, I asked T. and R. to make peace. R. ran to her brother and threw her arms around him. T. gave her a quick pat on the back and looked completely repulsed.

Suddenly, R. jumped up on her tippy toes and tried to plant one on him. I thought, "OH NO! He's gonna freak!"

Without missing a beat, he turned his cheek, slipped past her and said, "Nope not happening!" He faced his sister, looked at her pointedly, and exclaimed, "Not in this lifetime, kid!"

There'll Be NO Centerfolds In Her Future!

Yesterday morning I spent most of my time on the telephone. I was putting the finishing touches on the Ad Journal for the Elementary School's Chance Auction. I was getting bombarded with phone calls for additions, corrections, and changes.

Before I knew it, it was less than an hour before T. and R. had to be to school. I still needed to give them baths and lunch. I also needed a shower for myself. I told them they were going to have to get into the tub together and that I was going to wash them up because we didn't have a lot of time.

Just then the phone rang....AGAIN. I directed the kids toward the downstairs bathroom and asked them to get undressed. I grabbed the phone and ran up to their bedrooms to pull together some of their school clothes.

I talked and piled items in my arms. When the call was done, I hung up and ran back downstairs. In my office, next to the bathroom, my two naked children were running wild. The had brought out R.'s easel from the playroom and they were dancing around it laughing their heads off.

I looked at the chalkboard and saw a drawing.

"Mom, I drew that picture of R." stated T., my young artist, who was beaming with pride.

"I'm neeekiiiid!" Exclaimed R.

"Had my son drawn his first nude portrait?" I laughed to myself.



The moment of cuteness, however, was cut short as R. proceeded to drop to the floor, lie on her side, throw her hands up behind her head, and inform me, "That's my sexy pose!"

I guess she wasn't going for nude model....but perhaps, Playboy Bunny?

Sorry, Hef, I'm locking her up until she's forty.

My Klutz

Recently, T. went to a gymnastics party to celebrate a classmate's birthday. The local place does a really great job with the young kids. They start off with warm-ups and then an obstacle course is set up for them to maneuver.

The kids line up and follow each other through tunnels, over mats, and across balance beams. The instructors teach them how to do somersaults and bounce up from their butts on the trampoline. The grand finale is to hang from the rings; only to drop, laughing hysterically, into a pit of foam blocks.

As the party-goers have their fun, parents can watch from a loft on one side of the gym. As I watch T. scurry about, I am amazed at how agile he seems to be. I mean, this is a child who, since his first steps, has repeatedly tripped over his own two feet. He is completely accident prone and falls at least once or twice a day. He falls up stairs. He falls down stairs. He runs into walls. He bumps his head on his bunk bed. He's clumsy and knows it.

So, imagine my surprise when I was leaving the party and was stopped by one of the moms at the front desk.

"Yes, this is T.'s mom!" She enthusiastically said to the instructor who had run the party.

"Hi! Has T. ever taken gymnastics before?" He asked me.

"No, never, why?" I questioned, totally curious to where the conversation was going.

"Wow. I'd LOVE to have him on my boy's team. He's very talented!"

"Um--really?!" I said with a giggle.

"Absolutely, please think about it."

I was dumbfounded because I worry every time he goes out to play. I always want to wrap him in bubble wrap or dress him like this:


I guess you just never know!

I'll Save $276!

My son, T., wants to be a veterinarian when he grows up. I do believe, however, that he may just become a fashion designer. He like clothes....waaaaaay too much.

He has a tendency to pick out his sister's clothing when it's time to get ready for school. He also is very particular when it comes time to purchase new items for his wardrobe.

And he's only six.

Today the new Lands' End Kids catalog arrived in the mail. The younger Schmitty kids usually attack me at the front door as I empty the mailbox. They love to open my junk mail and search for mock credit cards. Much to T.'s disappointment, as well as my own, there were only bills and that summer clothing catalog.

"Here T., why don't you circle the things you like in here?" I said, as I handed him a red pen.

"Okay! Can I get some new stuff?" He asked.

"We'll see what you come up with and what you might need for the summer, okay?" I replied.

He set to work as I viewed some email.

"All done!" He shouted, not fifteen minutes later.

"Great! Show me what you circled."

I should have said, "Show me what you DIDN'T circle." For every pair of pants, shorts, or swim trunks he chose, there was a coordinating shirt or rash guard, a hat, and a pair of shoes to go along with it. He even picked matching beach towels for some of his ensembles.

I wanted him to see how crazy expensive his wish list was, so I turned on my desk calculator. I began adding up the pages of red, circled items.

The total came to $1510.50. Wow.

"Um, T.? I think you went a bit overboard. Do you really need twelve rash guards?"

"Sure. They match the bathing suits I want."

"But we can't even fit rash guards over your head, remember? They get stuck."

I have no idea why but it's the same thing with turtlenecks. His head doesn't LOOK that big, but he just can't wear them.

"Oh yea. But some of them are tie-dye. I love tie-dye. But they do hurt coming off. Okay, cross those off my list."

I subtracted the price of the twelve rash guards.

$1234.50.

"Cool mom! It says 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 -5! But that zero should be a 6!"

Yeah cool T. and there's free shipping too!

I Hope HE Didn't Teach HER That!

I was sitting in the living room emptying out backpacks and going through school papers, when I heard footsteps pounding across the floor above me.

T. came bounding down the stairs, with Ruby at his heels. He was shrieking with glee and she was yapping, her tail wagging furiously. The two were filled with so much excitement, I thought they might burst.

"MOM!!! I need to give Ruby a treat!!" He exclaimed.

Now I know why Ruby was beside herself and in an all out frenzy. All you have to say is "tre" and she goes bananas.

"Calm down T.!" I laughed, "What's up?"

"Ruby learned a new trick!!!" He shouted as he jumped up and down.

"That's awesome! What can she do?" I asked, sure that she had done something accidentally, as she's about as smart as a bag of rocks.

"This!" He said, grinning ear to ear. And with that, he plopped down on the floor, bent his knees slightly, put his arms between his legs with his palms flat, and proceeded to scoot his butt across the rug.

Don't Swallow Your Gum!

My daughter LOVES bubble gum. I am constantly finding her rifling through my purse looking for the pack of Trident. She chomps away at it like a pro. She reminds me of a gum cracking waitress from the '50s. Or a cow chewing it's cud.

Mr. Schmitty bought her a pack of her very own at the grocery store. Darn those candy displays at the checkout.

I did not know she was in possession of this pack of gum, not until I began to find the wrappers, like a trail, to her room. After making her hand over the remaining pieces, I told her that she is only allowed to chew ONE piece at a time. I explained that I would hold on to her gum and that if she wanted some, she needed to ask.

I left her room and walked into my bedroom. Here I found shreds of foil, along with an apparently chewed up gum wrapper.

RUBY!

Thus, another reason that R. should not be allowed to "hold on" to her own package of gum. She leaves it on the coffee table and on the rug in the living room. She might as well put it in the dog's food bowl.

I called R. and T., as he can have a tendency to leave things lying around too, to my computer. I told them that they needed to be more careful with their things and to make sure to put them in their places. Especially food like items. I showed them the half eaten wrappers and then told them that I needed to show them something.

I pulled up a picture on the Internet and said, "This is what happens when you swallow gum. I'm not sure if Ruby actually ate any gum, but we don't want this to happen to her if she farts, do we?"


Their eyes got big and their faces took on a mixture of concern and amusement. I'm sure they were contemplating whether or not I was pulling their leg.

I then pulled up this next picture. I pointed to each word on the poster and read it out loud. T. and R. looked at each other. Could this really happen?


I do believe they will keep track of their gum from now on.

What Would Possess A Child?

When the subject of "the things kids do" comes up, my mother always likes to tell the story of me destroying the bathroom walls. Apparently, when I was young, somewhere between the ages of 3 and 5, I got an idea. While sitting on the toilet, I began to pull the wallpaper off the walls. Not just small pieces, mind you, but entire panels.

I vaguely remember the act, though I am very clear on my father's reaction. What would possess me to do such a thing? Was I constipated and things were taking too long? Did I need a way to entertain myself? I certainly was too young to be reading the newspaper. What else was a kid to do?

Was I just an evil little shit that loved to get into trouble? Nah, that couldn't have been it, not with a father like I had.

Or was I just a bonehead? Because, really, what makes a kid decided, "Hey, let's strip this paper off the walls?"

A few days ago my daughter was sitting on the toilet. She had a pen in her hand and she was trying to write on a tissue. I handed her a notepad and told her to write on that so the pen didn't rip through the tissue and get on her leg.

She began to doodle on the paper and I told her to call me when she was finished. When I returned I found the notepad on the floor. I looked at my daughter and saw that she had completely covered her thighs in black ink.

She smirked at me and instantly I knew what possessed her; the devil in a pint-sized package. Her mischievous behavior I could totally understand because, well, that's my daughter in a nutshell.

But what was my son thinking last night? The kids had gone up to their rooms to get in bed and watch cartoons. Mr. Schmitty and I were in the living room catching up on some DVR'd shows.

T. came out of his room and asked, "What happens when you put water in your ear?"

Mr. Schmitty told him not to try it and to get back to bed. I knew better than to let something like that go.

"Why T.? Did you put something in your ear?" I asked.

He came down the stairs with that LOOK on his face, "Ummmm, no."

After a few minutes of a tug-of-war with words, crying, and denial, he finally admitted that he had put something in his ear. We placed him on the table and looked in. Sure enough, we could see something small and white, just inside the ear. It looked like a tiny, rubber stopper from the bottom of a toy.

After waiting in an emergency room for two hours, a doctor was able to pull the object out in seconds. Thankfully for T. there was minimal pain.

He told me that he learned his lesson and will NEVER put anything in his ears again. I asked him the question, "What possessed you to do that?"

He replied, "I don't know, I guess I was bored."

He forgot, to add "And I'm a bonehead!"

It appears that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Second Round

Well, my middle guy, T., was dropped off after lunch, for his first day of Kindergarten. He is in the afternoon class, as we only have half day Kindergarten here.

He is the most bashful boy. All blushing and burying his head in my stomach. He may be my shyest child, but he is so great at "sucking it up". He is such a brave little soul. Hanging tough and confident that HE.CAN.DO.THIS!

All of his class was lined up waiting for the bus kids to arrive. The moms all stood close by, gushing. When he didn't think I was looking at him, T. would just glance around at the other children. He was as white as a ghost. Well, except for the small rash that broke out on the back of his neck. Nerves will do that to him.

Suddenly, we would make eye contact, and he would beam. He has the most radiant smile in the world.

I asked him if he was okay. He nodded and then admitted that he felt like crying. My heart just fell to pieces.

And then he smiled at me again, fully determined to be a big kid.

My Little Lady Killer

T. is, if I do say so myself, a very handsome fella. He has one of those faces you just want to grab and kiss all over. And he's got the most kissable little lips, ones that are going to make the girls swoon some day. Though shy, he seems to draw in those around him. He does so without saying a word and with almost no effort. He smiles and the room brightens. He's got this amazing aura.

On Saturday, Mr. Schmitty took the boys for haircuts. W. has finally given up the latest trend and cut his long, shaggy locks. He is currently sporting a not-too-short crew with the front spiked up. Very adorable and very easy for him. That's all he cares about at the moment. Ease.

I was cleaning when they came home and had my iPod blaring some P!nk. I jumped a mile high when I turned around and they were standing there staring at me. Once I recovered from my mini-stroke and their ears recovered from my scream, I took a better look at my newly cleaned up boys. I had to do a double take when I saw T. He had the identical cut his brother did. He looked absolutely precious!

And he down right knew it. He grinned ear to ear anytime anyone noticed. He was beside himself. W. told him that the girls would all be chasing him on the playground come Monday. He blushed 4 shades of red. But in his eyes, you could see that he couldn't wait for the weekend to come to a close.

Sunday morning he made sure that I put some "Crew" wax or gel or whatever that gunk is, in his hair. He then jumped up on the vanity and combed his hair up, making sure it looked perfect.

Later on that day, I was talking to my brother in our living room. T. walked in, stopped, and whipped out his sister's compact mirror in one hand and his comb in the other. He fixed his flip and pocketed the mirror and comb. He then continued on his way without missing a beat.

We rolled on the floor laughing.

Monday, after school, I overheard him telling his brother that Zyasia, Emma, Elizabeth, and Sarah all noticed his haircut. I had to duck into my own room to avoid getting caught giggling.

Today when he was getting ready for school, I again helped him with his hair. When I was done, I said, "There you go, does it look okay?" He smiled, then looked deep in thought, he finally said, "I wonder if Miss Meagan will be there today."

Miss Meagan is the teacher's assistant. A pretty little blonde, about 22 years old, that T. has a MAJOR crush on. I told him to stick to girls his own age.

What a little Casanova!

Some Abuse For My Birthday

"Mom, who was the first person born on earth?" asked my inquisitive T.

"Well, Adam and Eve were the first humans created by God...." I began to reply.

T., cutting me off in mid-sentence asks, "Was it you?"

Once you turn 41, it's all downhill.

Little stinker.

A Day In The Life

Today is kindergarten registration for T. He seems a little apprehensive, but that's my T. He's the most shy of the Schmitty children, though he probably is the most "popular". People just take to him. Kids, I've noticed, seem to flock to him. He's just got that natural attraction. You know, there's just something about him.

I reminded him yesterday that we would be going to the school to sign him up. I informed him and his sister that we'd have some errands to run. The registration to start, then to the school's administration building, which is across town. There I will be turning in R.'s registration papers for Preschool.

Our elementary school has a Preschool for children that have special needs, ranging from severe to minor, such as speech therapy. The Preschool also accepts applications for other resident children with no special needs. There is a limited space for other resident children and they are chosen by lottery. I'm hoping R. gets chosen. It will be great to have her and her brother begin the same school together. It will be a lot easier for me. The kids will be in two schools, not three. It will also elevate some of the financial burden as this is free compared to the Montessori Academy she will attend if not picked.

After we drop off her papers, we will need to go grocery shopping. R. said we needed milk. Of course we do. We go through at least two gallons every three days, we ALWAYS need milk. I told R. that we should buy our own cow instead. She then told me that cow's "pee" milk. Oh YUM!

I told them if we had time, we would then go to borough hall to get Ruby's dog license. T.'s eyes bugged out and he exclaimed, "Then she'll be able to drive a car?!"

Ahhhh....the stories he'll tell in kindergarten!

A Special Ingredient?

The kids are getting very excited about the visitor who is scheduled to come this weekend.

We've got our baskets ready, our cool, metallic egg coloring kit standing by, our plastic eggs are unpacked from the crawl space, and a bag of carrots has been purchased. I made sure I remembered the carrots because one year we had to leave the Easter Bunny an apple. And don't you know, though he was only 3 at the time, W. still reminds me of that EVERY.SINGLE.YEAR.

T. and R. were talking to me yesterday about what Mr. Bunny might bring them. They are a bit delusional, I must say. But rest assured, I was quick to point out that the big ticket items were more Santa's gig and they needed to downscale their thinking a bit. If not, they were going to be highly disappointed.

T.: "I hope he brings me lots of candy!"

R.: "Yum, chocolate kisses!!"

T.: "You know mom, they make some candy out of pee-pee."

Me: "Huh? I really don't think so T."

T.: "Yea, they do. You know, those yellow, squishy candies we get at Easter. The ones that look like chicks. The pee-pees."



Me: "Honey, those are PEEPS."

Happy Birthday My Little Man!

Five years ago today, I went through the world's easiest birth. It was a definite indication of the baby's personality. Of my three children, T. is the most easy going. Yes, he can be tough, just like his siblings, but he is so adaptable to most situations. He just goes with it. He is such a middle child, the moderator, the one who makes everyone happy ~ even if that means his own unhappiness, the child with a smile on his face. He is also the most sensitive, the first to cry, and when you are the middle child you get it from both ends. I know, I'm a middle kid. I think that's why I have a special bond with him. I love all of my children equally, but my heart tugs a little when I see what he endures as the second born.

T. was my easiest birth, but my hardest to conceive. I had been through years of fertility treatments to conceive W. and I knew that I wanted more children. We began trying for our second child as soon as the doctor gave the okay after W. was born.

We tried and tried for four years. There were a few breaks in those four years, because honestly, it's hell and sometimes you just have to step back and relax. Finally my RE told me that Invitro Fertilization seemed like the next route. He recommended me to another doctor as he did not do IVF.

I began seeing the other doctor, which was over an hour away. Now that doesn't sound like that big of a deal, but those of you that know how many times you have to visit your RE during a cycle know, it can be a big deal. You have to visit them practically every other day for blood draws and ultrasounds. I had a 4 1/2 year old at home that I had to throw in the car at the crack of dawn, in cold January weather, and drive alongside 18 wheelers. That's daunting enough, but when your nerves are already shot, well it's a living nightmare. But you do it. And you get through it.

I was also very anxious about having this baby. It was right after 9-11 and I wasn't sure I wanted to bring another child into a world that was so unsure. But then I reasoned that everything is unpredictable and the love of a child would bring joy to our lives.

So, I received my nightly injections in my butt. That needle was freaking HUGE! It sucked. But I did it. We had my eggs harvested and all looked great. Three babies were put into my uterus. Now it was all a waiting game.

The day came for us to drive the hour back to the RE's office to see what was to be. One, Two, Three, or no babies. I prayed all the way just for God to give us what we could handle. That's what I prayed, over and over in my head.

I had my ultrasound and there he was, my T., his heart beating on the screen ~ mine beating out of my chest.

He still does that to me, makes my heart beat out of my chest. He's 5, that's what they do. But my heart also beats because of him, and his brother and sister. They are my loves.

Happy Birthday my baby. I love you from here to the moon and back!

(T. holding a Boa from his birthday party with The Lizard Guy!)