Bad thinking

My children haven't had nightmares for a long time, so I think I was due for some nighttime disturbances.

I heard Weston upstairs whimpering and went to see what was wrong. He was standing at the top of the stairs, with a very concerned look on his face. When I asked him what was wrong, this is what he said...

"I had a bad thinking. I was thinking and it was very bad."
"What was your bad thinking about, Weston?"
"I was thinking about what would happen if you put a mouse in the toilet and then when I went potty late at night, the mouse would try to bite my butt and I would try to get away, but it would chase me."

Either, he has some very disturbed going-to-sleep-thoughts, or he has some VERY creative methods of avoiding sleep altogether.

Sorry about the technical issues we had yesterday.

Speaking of technical difficulties...it seems that Weston has one. We have spent a flurried week at the dentist, doctor, and eye doctor's offices. Three kids times three appointments. Waiting rooms, paperwork, and huge bills later we find out that we have relativly healthy kids and that Wston has flat feet and most likely also has something called "Myasthenia Gravis". We had heard this term before, when he was just a few weeks old but had thought it had been ruled out. When we first did our internet search on MG just 5 years ago, the news was grim. After re-researching it this go-round, I wonder if I had somehow been researching the wrong thing all those years ago. Nothing is the same. The dire predictions that had brought us to tears- the thought of breathing tubes, and feeding tobes, and early death....they are no longer there. Now it is replaced with this sentance: Although once a severe and often fatal illness, myasthenia gravis can now be well managed with several relatively safe and effective therapies.
I had a really bad day yesterday and threw myself a good ol pity party, sans cake and icecream (which was really stupid. According to my children, no party should EVER be without cake and ice cream). Then I realized that I should be shouting for joy for two reasons...
1. My child is not going to die from this disease.
2. He will never be able to be drafted into the military.

I am unsure as to what the future holds in regards to this. Our next step is to see a nurologist and we will go from there.

Those eyes are what is causing all the hullabaloo. I wish I could explain in layman's terms what it all means, but scientific medical information reads like this to me: "blah blah blah blah gobbldeegook" If you are interested, here is a site that explains it a bit more.
Myasthenia Gravis

Rice: Good for Gratitude

I left my camera at a friend's house (after a tea party) and since I hate blogging without pictures, here is one of my three children, right after Esther's birth. This is before they became spoiled brats. Did I just call my children brats? Why yes. Yes I did. See how sweet they are here? Little Esther was content to nurse her days away and Marcus thought we were heroes just for sharing our french fries. Weston was always a bit of a whiner, but lately, oh my! Lately it has snowballed into something very unpretty.

If I give them a cookie, Weston will cry, and call me a liar, because he will say that I did, in fact, promise him ten cookies. Which is completely untrue. Esther will cry because her cookie only has three billion chocolate chips and she wanted fifteen gazillion chocolate chips. Marcus will pout because...well, actually, I have no idea why Marcus will pout. He has been in a constant state of poutiness lately.

If I fix their favorite dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches with granny smith apples, mayo, and green olives (don't mock it, they LOVE it), Weston will complain that his has a brown spot on it, Marcus will cry because I only had enough to give him four full sandwiches, and Esther will suddenly decide she hates bread.

If I take them to the park, they will throw a fit because I ask them to put on their shoes, because we have to walk, and because I didn't know they wanted to go to THAT OTHER PARK.

If I take them swimming, the sun will be to hot, or they will be too cold, or we will stay too long, or we will not stay long enough.

If I bake them a surprise cake, someone will cry because they wanted lemon, not chocolate.

And on and on and on to kingdom come. Do I sound as if I am complaining? My dears, I don't know any other tone of voice. I have been surrounded by whining and complaining for so long, I have forgotten how to converse any other way.

BUT. But, I found a solution. It hit me one night just like a lighbulb turning on and illuminating the deep recesses of the parenting brain I had shut off. We were in the van listening to Weston and Esther whine because we were not going to the restaraunt THEY wanted to go to (which happened to be two different ones). Marcus did not whine. Rather, he gave this deep sigh and rolled his eyes. the sigh ended with a deep disgusted grunt.
Something inside of me snapped. I am not sure when the last time I have heard my children say thank you, but I can gaurantee you it was so long ago that we might as well consider that they never said it. I told them, "you have this weekend to learn gratitude because by Monday, if you haven't learned it, I am going to start feeding you rice with every meal. I am going to feed it to you until you will bow down in gratitude to just see a boiled egg.
Let me just say that their response was... Well, I don't know how to describe it. Bad. We are talking screaming. And kicking. More screaming. Calling us names. Remember now, that I have only threatened this course of action. I look at Dustan, he looks at me. The looks says, "What did we do wrong? How did we raise these monsters?"

And so we went home. We did not go to any restaraunt at all. We had rice. No one said thank you. So we had rice at dinner. Weston gave me a very feeble "Thank you for the rice, mommy." By breakfast, Marcus, who can't stand rice at all, and who has now missed two meals, tells me that he "will be grateful for whatever I feed him." I say, "Good, cause we are having shoes." Marcus says, "Thank you for the shoes mommy."
I feed them all their favorite cereal. I recieve three hearty thank yous and some help in cleaning the kitchen. These children do NOT want another meal of rice.

But I have the container sitting in the middle of the counter- just in case. I think the visual reminder will be enough.

My day today is insanely busy

Here's a picture of the cousins while on our camping trip. We spent the morning wading in a creek and the kids loved it. Weston is missing from this photo because he was back in the cabin with Elly, throwing up. Poor kids.

Some really long thoughts for today: (I will come back and proofread later- I am just too busy right now)
The house is a mess, we have swim lessons, a tea party, and church...not to mention we need to fit some time in there for school and spanish lessons. Sometimes I feel like my life is spiraling out of control. I just want it to slow way down. Sometimes I get caught up in the chaos of a moment and forget who I am. This morning, a couple of blog posts reminded me to be still, to remember Who I belong to. They reminded me to take time to count my blessings and that my character is far more important than my label of mother.
Read this one.
And this one by a mother struggling with brain cancer

When I grow up, I want to be kind, gentle, creative, respectful, truthful, and friendly.

My blessings:
1. I am a child of God. His forgiveness for my rottoness outweighs any other blessing I could name.
2. I happened to have married the best and greatest man on earth. God saw fit to save him for me. He does dishes, he helps with the children, he provides me with a home and lifestyle I could never have imagined when I was a kid. remeber that sily game where we listed the cars we wanted, the places we wanted to live, our occupations, and the boys we wanted to marry? then we did some kind of silly counting method to cross them off one by one until the last ones left would be our future? I was supposed to have a Z-28, marry Micheal tucker, live in France as a famous author. I am glad God designed my future and not me or some random game.
3. I have two of the dearest friends on the planet. I spent yesterday complaining that the ladies at the pool ignored me and that I was being shunned when I tried to have small talk sessions with them. Who needs them when I have two best friends who are there in a instant when I need them, who love me despite all my flaws, and who inspire me to be a better person.
4. My sister. I can't type more or I will cry.
5. My mom and dad who taught me to love God, to see life as an adventure, and to adore learning. They love me unconditionally.
6. All of my grandparents are still living. And they all love God. I don't get to see them very often, but their heritage of faith surrounds me everyday. Who I am is so much a part of who they are. Not many people can gorw to adulthood still basking in the love of grandparents, but I can.
7. My brats. Ahem, okay, my children. Today they are driving me up a wall. But still. They are blessings. Weston has renewed his dream of becoming a hairdresser and thankfully practices on Esther's hair sans scissors. She looks so pretty today because he made her hair shiny and smooth. A few weeks ago he decided to follow Christ. Now I am choked up all over again. Two of my children know the Lord as their Savior.
8. I am alive. My health is good.
9. I am fat. Which means I am not hungry.
10. The plants I planted a few weeks ago are still alive. It's a miracle.

Two posts for the Price of one.

Which happens to be free!




My friend Danielle> is one of the most talented people on the planet. I envy her. She is not, however, selfish with her talent, and shares it freely. This generosity of hers astounds me. Without spending a lot of money, she imparts beautiful gifts to people. Want one? Look over to her left column and click on embroidery tutorial. Let her teach you a new skill. You wouldn't believe how much pure talent this woman has in her pinky finger, and lucky for us, she wants to give it away. For free. Take advantage of it.
My birds are from her tutorial and would have been done except that my my sister told me they had vacant eyes. Maybe I should add a little knotty thing.

The sheep I am making for my mother. I found the little coloring page somewhere online and knew my mother had to have them. She has a bit of an obsession with sheep. I think I will use it as a panel in a little quilted pillow and give it to her for Christmas.

Okay, so I am not dead.

I made it back from Ecuador and didn't even come home before attending an out of state wedding and the a family camping trip at Long's Retreat. My sister and her crew, as well as my mom and dad were there. Long's retreat is an awesomely fun place. Or it would have been if we had not caught the stomach flu that landed three of the kids in the ER. We stopped counting the vomiting episodes somehwere after 60. Trust me. It was horrible.
I came home to start VBS three days later and then my bestest friend Tara's baby who I had knly just met (she was born when I was in Ecuador) went into the hospital with some kind of horrible infection and I added Tara's other three tykes to my crew. We are at 6 kids now. My sister also came down to visit and she brought her 4. Thankfully we only overlapped one day. It was utter choas at my house for the past two months. Chaos, I tell you. I really need a vacation. Not kidding.

So, in case you are wondering if life has slowed down since my sister has gone back to New York, and everyone is well, and I am done traveling...you would be wrong
Click on this picture:

DITL

A bunch of my online friends have been doing a photo journaling project that follows them for a day. Here is mine. Enjoy. then come babysit for me so I can take a nap.