Breakfast With My Buddy

This morning I had a special treat. A breakfast date with my favorite three year old. Jack, my early riser, headed out with Daddy to move cows. Sam, my sleeping beauty, stayed in bed until I shook him awake asking him to join me for breakfast. We went to Cracker Barrel where we ordered way too much food (Sam couldn't decide what he wanted) and just enjoyed each other's company. It is a rare treat to have one on one time with one of my boys, so I cherished this morning with my sweet boy. We talked and I found myself just staring at him in amazement, amazed at how much he's grown and just how wonderful he is. I just love this little one so very much. More and more with every passing day. I am so blessed to be his Mom. Even if he suckers me into spending money when I shouldn't. I should have headed to McDonald's instead of Cracker Barrel. What was I thinking choosing a restaurant with a gift shop? A stuffed red fox, a stuffed lemur (because we didn't have these animals and they are a necessity to any animal enthusiast), two John Deere shirts and $60 later (not counting our food) we headed home. Sam proved to be an expensive date but I enjoyed every second with him. Every expensive second.

We Need to Talk

Dear Jack,

My sweet, precious son...we need to talk. You know I adore you, every inch of you in fact, but today you nearly drove me insane. What did you do to drive me mad, little one? You decided to take removing your diaper to a new level today. Today you moved past the occasional, daily diaper removal, into a relentless game of "let's see how many times I can do this before she really goes crazy!" Yes, today I saw you remove your diaper at least twenty times. Twenty. And while I think your chubby little bottom is beyond adorable, I grew quite tired of seeing it today. Because you don't just remove your diaper and go on about your merry way. You, Jack, insist on forcing out some kind of bodily waste to leave behind. You took three dumps on the rug in your room today. Three. And I lost count of the number of pee puddles I cleaned up today. Today consisted of little more than this...

your naked heini, running through the house sometimes with your diaper and pants dragging behind you. Tonight during bath time, I pulled you from the tub first. I wrapped you in your favorite hippo towel and turned to get Sam out. I turned back to see you with no towel, peeing all over the rug. "Golly, son," I said. "What are you, a dog or something?" Without hesitation, you began barking and then proceeded to finish soaking the rug. Your daddy even tried to intervene when you removed your pjs and peed down the hall. He tied a dish rag around your waist in an attempt to teach you a lesson. This trick didn't phase you and you actually seemed to enjoy your new "cloth diaper."

As usual, you find humor in everything and when I am frustrated the most, you still make me giggle.

But, Jack, I am asking (really I'm begging) you to please refrain from the diaper shananagins tomorrow. Your poor, tired Mama needs a break from cleaning up after you. You see, sweet boy, if I wanted to clean up pee and stinky of the floor, I would get a chihuahua or a poodle. So try a little harder tomorrow, son, to keep your pants pulled up and the carpet dry for yours truly. I love you.

Mommy

Revelation

I recently read an article from a website affiliated with Focus on the Family.  It was a revelation for me and I fully intend on ordering and reading the book.  The excerpt made me think,"Hey, this is my life they're writing about!"  It's a little long, but a great read and I encourage you to take the time to read every word.  I feel certain it will speak to you as it did me and give you a new insight into our job as parents.  It asks the simple, yet powerful question, "What if God didn't give us children to make us happy, but to make us holy?"

 An excerpt from Start Your Family, by Steve and Candice Watters. 

Sludge.

It’s the sticky, gooey, too-thick-to-walk-through stuff that floats on polluted, oily water. And it’s the word we use to describe much of our lives as parents.

It’s what we feel walking through our home at the end of the day, as the house that was clean at 6:00 a.m. now feels like the trash compactor scene from Star Wars. Just trying to walk from one room to another, we get the sensation of the mess wrapping itself around our ankles and keeping us from getting anywhere.

But it’s more than just the massive sludge footprint that forms by each day’s end. It’s the constant intrusion into every corner of our adult lives by LEGOs, Matchbox cars, miniature plastic-doll shoes (smaller than our fingernails), and countless stuffed animals.

It’s having to grow used to juice spills, broken toys, pungent diapers, grass stains, and midnight vomit.

It’s conceding our vehicles to candy wrappers, crumbs, Cheerios, free-range sippy cups, and windows clouded by crayon masterpieces.

It’s sharing our favorite chairs with baby dolls, library books, art projects, and old egg cartons that have been transformed into “treasures.”

It’s looking out onto a backyard (that often looks like an exploded toy factory—littered with bikes, scooters, snow boots, basketballs, and missing gloves and mittens) and seeing our grass, dirt, mulch, rocks, and tree leaves mixed into “landscape soup” and then poured out into various surprise locations.

Then there’s the psychological sludge. It’s the stuff that piles up around your heart and mind as you deal with the interruptions, whining, constantly shifting plans, inane children’s programming, sleeplessness, incessant demands, decline in intimacy, and more that come with children.

Over the past eight years, the presence of this sludge has felt like our dirty little secret. In that time, we’ve written articles about having kids and captured notes in the hopes of writing this book some day. As we accumulated insights about the purpose and blessing of children, we continued to struggle with the reality that being a parent is just plain hard.

There are days we’ve faced the perfect sludge storm of mess, whining, disobedience, illness, and other challenges, and in the middle of it all, one of us has asked the other, “Should we really encourage other couples to do this? This is brutal.”

Sometimes it seems there’s just no good explanation or justification for the tedium that you come to know as a parent.

At this point, you might be thinking, “Steve and Candice just don’t know how to train their children.” Or maybe you’re thinking, “They just don’t know about product X or program Y that addresses the problems they’ve described.” Maybe you’re also thinking, “It will be different for our child.”

You might be right. We know we still have room for improvement. And we do wish you the best in training your own children. But we still feel safe predicting that sooner or later, you’ll run into plenty of areas of challenge. We’ve got the backing of Jesus who predicted, “In this world you will have trouble” (John 16:33).

Thankfully we have found that there are things you can do to minimize the sludge—to simplify your home, to work hard at staying on top of cleanup, to keep a lot of wipes on hand, to adjust your expectations, to better train your children, to try to keep a healthy routine, to pray for grace and mercy, and so on. But even when you do all that, you’ll always have the sludge with you to some degree while you’re a parent.

The sludge is unavoidable.

So is it just something you have to endure? Is there some point to it all?

We believe there is. The thing we’ve come to grasp is that we need the sludge. Reflecting on the difficulties of maintaining happiness within family, Gary Thomas observed that maybe God didn’t give us marriage and children to make us happy, but to make us holy. We’ve come to realize that the sludge we encounter works like a crucible—that it generates the state of pain or anguish that tests our resiliency and character.

There are many wonderful concepts of the Christian faith—things like selflessness, patience, sacrifice, and unconditional love—that, to be honest, were little more than good intentions for us before we were tested as parents.

Scriptures abound where God uses affliction, suffering, and trials to refine us. Isaiah 48 talks about being tested in the furnace of affliction. First Peter 1:6–7 talks about rejoicing in trials so that our faith may be proved genuine and “may result in praise, glory and honor.” Romans 5:3–4 talks about rejoicing in sufferings because of the way “suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”

The truth is, we just didn’t have many opportunities to rejoice in our sufferings before we had kids. We didn’t have the benefit of being tested by a furnace of affliction so that we could grow in our faith. We know many believers have been tested through a variety of afflictions—troubles that grew their faith: through illness, disability, or personal tragedy; through missions; or through ministry to the sick, poor, or imprisoned. It’s easy to see how God uses such dramatic life challenges to accomplish what is difficult to do in easier circumstances. What’s often overlooked is that the inconvenience, annoyance, and frustration of being a parent is the most common venue we have in life to experience the kind of refinement God intends for us all.

For a time, the desire to grow spiritually drew Gary Thomas toward the monkish life. But that was a challenging life to pursue with a wife and children. “Rather than trying to mimic a monk in my marriage,” he says, “I came to realize family was the most spiritually formative aspect of my life.”

“The process of parenting is one of the most spiritually formative journeys a man and a woman can ever undertake,” Thomas writes in his book Sacred Parenting. “Unless we are stone-cold spiritually—virtually spiritual corpses—the journey of caring for, raising, training and loving children will mark us indelibly and powerfully. We cannot be the same people we once were; we will be forever changed, eternally altered. Spiritually speaking, we need to raise children every bit as much as they need us to raise them.”

My Boys

Brotherly love...

or something like that...

Africa

Sam has left his love for farm animals behind and is now consumed with safari animals.  He still enjoys visiting the animals around the farm and bears are still his all time favorite, but he has developed a real love for Africa.  He loves watching movies about the grasslands and was thrilled when we found an African safari set for him.  It has a huge tree, tons of animals that he didn't have and a safari car and lots of little men.  He sets up "Africa" all the time and sometimes even brings a few "woods animals" on the safari.  He has learned quite a bit about the animals and begs to go to the real Africa one day.  We've told him that sure would cost a lot of money and it is really far away so we'll have to wait until he's older to head across the ocean.  He still asks nearly everyday and I have to tell him over and over why we can't leave that very minute to go on a safari.  I made the mistake of showing him Animal Kingdom on the computer and now he begs every day to go there too.  I tell him one day we will be able to visit there but it is a long drive and we have to plan our trip.  Yet still he asks.  Every single time he gets in the car.  Every time.  I look forward to the day I can tell him we're really going..to Animal Kingdom that is.  Africa will have to wait a little while.

Getting his animals lined up...

Bears, according to Sam, can go to Africa too...

His safari man, ready to go on an expedition...

"Sam, how happy would you be to go to Africa?"  "This happy, Mommy!"

Happy Birthday Nana!

Happy Birthday Nina/Nana from your five favorite little ones...

We love you!

Busy

We've had a busy few days around here.  We celebrated my grandmother's 75th birthday, stayed busy at home the rest of the weekend, headed to the ENT for Jack's six month checkup on Monday, hosted a kid's clothing party Tuesday night, swam, swam some more and my office is currently overflowing with guys for the ever so important Fantasy Football draft.

The highlight of the past few days was late yesterday when Sam opened our front door to find his best buddies standing on his doorstep.  Yes, the Lees are back in town and life is wonderful for my boys.  We went to a new pool today and I forgot the boys' swimmies.  Luckily the pool has a very large shallow end so I didn't have a total nervous breakdown.  Soon Sam was swimming under the water (we're still working on the whole kicking part) and even went down the big water slide.  He was loving it until the fourth time.  On this trip down he flipped and ended up coming down backwards on his belly.  And that was it for the water slide for today.

In other news, one would wonder why I have no pictures to show the reunion of the cousins or the fun at the pool.  Well I'm not naming any names (JACK STANDLEY), but someone in our house thought it would be a brilliant idea to squeeze a full tube of steroid cream (for my current case of poison ivy) all over my camera and lens.  Yes, my lovely black Nikon was completely white, every inch covered in ointment. He managed to squeeze out enough to cover my Mac too just for giggles.  I cleaned my camera and lens thoroughly and thought all was okay until I attempted to take a picture of the group swimming last night.  I hit the shutter and received a nice message "ERROR.  PLEASE PRESS SHUTTER RELEASE AGAIN."  I am hoping for a simple fix.  I'd hate to have teach my boy a lesson and cash in savings bonds to pay for his handiwork.

Adoration

There just aren't

enough words, little one,

to tell you how much

you mean to me and

how very much I adore you.

Even when you leave the garden hose on all day and flood our backyard.  

Yes, even then, I adore you still.

Mr. Messy

Give Jack an ice cream bar as we ride to check the cows to keep him quiet and occupied and this is what you get...a big, big mess.

Learning from the Best

Jody recently had a cow put in the freezer for us (I think that's the nicest way to say it).  We have several different cuts, mainly hamburger and steaks, to last us for the next year.  One of the cuts is cube steak, one of Jody's favorite.  He asked me to cook it tonight and since I had no clue where to start, I headed over to Marie's to learn from a pro.  She is just the sweetest person in the world and the best cook around.  She cooks for a living and is quite famous in our town for her country cooking and desserts.  I was thrilled to have her teach me, although it turned into me doing a lot of watching and not so much cooking.  I did attempt to do the mashed potatoes myself (I do know how to make these thank you very much) and she ever so sweetly came up beside me and removed the mixer from my hand and said, "Here, honey.  Let me mash those for you."  I don't know if I'll ever be able to make country style steak myself, and I know mine will never taste like hers, but I sure enjoyed my afternoon with her.

Sam set up "Africa" on the counter while we got started cooking.

I watched intently, trying to learn all of her secrets.

Jack stayed busy doing a little light housework.

Soon, Sam joined in, clearing off the cabinets and wiping them down for his Mema.

Sam lined the table with "groceries" from the shelves as Jack and Papa watched.

Sam even begged to open up the canned goods and eat them.  I think he was happy he waited for the good stuff.  And it was delicious, as always.

Missing Cade...

and Cannon and Landry.  Jack fell in love with Cade shortly before they left for Connecticut. He learned how to say his name and loved when Cade would ride with us places so he could yell, "Cade, Cade!" over and over again.  And Cade, sitting behind him in his booster seat, would always sweetly say, "What Jack, I'm right here."  For days after they left, Jack would still call out in the car, "Cade, Cade!" hoping he'd answer.  Both boys are miserable without their best friends and counting down the days until they get home.  It can't come soon enough...for any of us.

Excitement

Sam ran inside yesterday afternoon after swimming at Robin and Meme's with Jack and his Daddy.  

"Mommy, Mommy, you're never gonna believe this!"

"What, Sam?" I asked as I met him in the den.

"Look! Look!" he said, pointing to his chest.  "I have hair on my chest!"

I got down on my knees and squinted to see the light, nearly invisible peach fuzz.  "Wow, you sure do Sam.  What does that mean?"

And with more excitement than I've seen in a long time he yelled, "I"M GONNA BE A DADDY!"

Honored

I had the honor of speaking at Randy's funeral a couple of weeks ago.   Since then, I've had several people ask me to read what I said.  So I'm sharing it here and hoping my words continue to honor him.

I feel I was taught so much through this experience.  I think we all were.  And I feel it is an honor to share what I've learned along the way.

The first thing I learned was the importance of knowing where you stand with God.  Are you saved?  Do you know for sure?  Randy knew for sure.  And this certainty is what granted him a peace, a peace in knowing that while he may wish for more time here on earth, he was hopeful and happy about the possibility of soon meeting his Savior.  I was amazed by his courage through his dismal diagnosis.  I can remember struggling with the news and wondering, how does one go on after hearing such news?  How do you wake up in the morning and go about your daily activities, all with the knowledge that you are dying?  I knew I couldn't be that strong, that positive.  But Randy was.  I talked to him a few days after his diagnosis and I asked him those very questions.  How are you coping?  How are you handling this so well?  He responded to me very matter of factly, saying that he had prayed and he was at peace with his future.  He revealed that he was sad about the idea of leaving behind his family and friends so early in life and that he had prayed to God for more time.  Oh, I thought, he feels the same way I would feel.  He's sad, upset, angry, just like I would be if given news that I would be leaving my children and loved ones in such an unexpected, unfair way.  But immediately Randy went on to finish his statement.  "But," he said, "if God is ready to take me home, I'm okay with that too.  I really am."  And so while he did have those human thoughts of worry and sadness, those thoughts were quickly replaced by a peace in the understanding that God's will would be done, no matter what.  That peace and understanding can only be found in knowing that as you face your final moments on this earth, that your heavenly father is there with His arms outstretched as He welcomes you to your eternal home in paradise.

Through Randy's diagnosis, sickness and death, I have been reminded that life is short.  Our time on this earth is fleeting.  None of us are guaranteed another day.  We are not promised another breath or another day in a healthy body.  Our bodies may fail us, leaving us an unhealthy shadow of our former self.  Life can change in an instant.  Accidents happen.  Doctors deliver grim news.  Our future changes in a second.  None of us sitting here would have imagined a year ago, or even six months ago, that we would be gathered here today in this manner.  But we are.  And it should be a wake up call to each of us, as it was to me, that nothing is guaranteed.  Do the people you love know it?  Are you sure?  Did you hug your children today?  Did you call your Mom?  Did you stop what you were doing to visit your Dad?  It is never too late to make things right.  To repair relationships and mend broken hearts.  And while I pride myself on bestowing many hugs and kisses on my boys and telling them I love them until they grow tired of hearing it, this experience taught me that I can always do more.  We can always do more.  We can always say more and show love more.  Now is this time to be kind.  Today is the day to apologize.  Today is the day to offer forgiveness.  Randy did it.   The days before his death Randy offered forgiveness.  He spoke kindly.  And he made sure to tell each and every person that he loved them.  He was teaching us all.  In the hours after his death, as his family sat in the hospital waiting room, I heard dozens of I love you's as his loved ones embraced one another.   And I know Randy was proud.  

I learned that God can use anything for good.  Even the simplest things.  Like cows.  I can remember when Jody decided to venture into the cattle business three years ago.  Sam was a newborn and I must admit that I didn't find the cows and all they entailed too amusing.  In fact, I resented those cows.  I resented the fact that it meant I was often left at home, alone with a newborn, for most of the weekend.  I often gritted my teeth and I'm sure rolled my eyes when Jody would announce that he would be gone again because he needed to give shots, tag ears or mend fences.  But those cows soon became a way of life.  I knew every Saturday, and many Sunday afternoons, would be spent the same way.  Joe, Jody, Randy and Andy would be doing something for their little cattle business.  Soon, Sam was old enough to go with the guys and later Jack would join in too.  And while I was grateful for the opportunity my children had to be around animals and develop a love for them, I didn't fully understand that the importance of those cows was so much more.  Those cows mended relationships, healed hearts and built friendships.  They allowed two brothers to become friends again, and two sons  to develop a new found love and respect for their father and their uncle.  Those simple cows were the vehicle God used to create an unbreakable bond and to make things right.  And today, I am thankful for them.

I learned about faith.  But this time, Randy was not my teacher.  His mother was.  I have watched in amazement as Willa carried herself with such grace in a time when her heart was surely breaking.  When I would visit the hospital, I would find myself not watching Randy, but instead watching Willa.  My heart ached for her.  At 56 years old, he was still her child and I knew while every one's heart was broken, nobody was hurting quite like she was.  I wondered how she could be so strong, so resilient.  I thought of myself sitting there, watching my child slowly leave me as I helplessly could do nothing.  Be he three or 63, it wouldn't matter.  Could I watch my son's body fail him and exude such a Godly presence that I was an example to all that saw me?  Could I hide my pain in order to keep the focus on him?  Willa did.  And she did it with a grace I've never seen before.  I finally asked her how she was handling things so well, how was she being so strong.  "Faith," she said.  Faith in knowing that her son would soon be in the presence of his heavenly father and that she would indeed be reunited with him again.  I so admire her for this.  I admire her strength, but more than that, I admire her for being a Godly mother and raising her children to be God-fearing believers who strive to serve God.  And while I know she never expected one of her children to precede her in death and while I know that her heart is broken, I also know that the reason she can face these hard times with such grace is because she did her job as a mother and she did it well.  She knows her children will one day be joined with her again in heaven. As a mother I know this is such a blessing to her and that knowledge is what will sustain her and offer her a peace that a mother can only find in knowing that her child is a child of God.

And lastly I learned that children can often say things better than we can.  A few weeks after Randy's diagnosis, we were sitting at the dinner table.  And like every night Sam began to say the blessing.  It was his usual blessing..."thank you for food, thank you for bears, thank you for tractors"... but on this particular night he added at the end, "and God, please fix Randy, amen".  Jody and I looked at one another in shock.  You see, we hadn't told Sam Randy was sick.  Sure, he had probably overheard the discussions and he understood that something was wrong, but we hadn't told him directly that Randy was sick.  And from that night on, nearly every one of Sam's prayers included "and please fix Randy."  After Randy died, we told Sam.  He asked why he couldn't see him anymore.  Jody and I did our best to explain things to him.  The next morning Sam climbed into a chair and stood on his tiptoes, stretching his legs as far as he could.  And he asked me, "Mommy, am I tall enough now to see Randy in heaven?"  Even after telling Sam that Randy was now in heaven, he has still prayed several times for God to "fix Randy."  And I happily tell him that God has fixed Randy.  And while it may not be the outcome we all hope and prayed for, we can all rest in knowing that God did fix him and he is healed.

22 Months

Jack, my little one, at 22 months you are still every bit the charmer you've always been.  You are ridiculously silly and remain my funny boy. You are still very busy and very destructive and it is quite amazing what trouble your little hands continue to get you into.  Your vocabulary continues to grow every day and I am amazed by all you know already.  Your are so sweet and lovable and you do so many things that make me smile, as my heart overflows with love for you.  Your newest sweet trick is to climb into my lap, or on top of me if I'm in bed (trying to sleep), and put your chubby little hands on my face and grin at me.  Your face is only inches from mine and your eyes are twinkling with delight as you laugh and yell, "Mama, Mommy, My Mommy!"  over and over again until we are both laughing ourselves silly.  I cherish these moments because this is what makes you, you.

Your exude happiness and sugar but no one should be mistaken into thinking they can walk over you.  You have a fierce temper and get furious when you fall down and get hurt or embarrassed.  You're not easily consoled during these times but as quickly as the temper came, it leaves and my joy baby returns.  Sam is learning fast that his days as the boss are now numbered and you are quick to give him a stiff punch if he crosses you.  You two have begun the fighting stage that I'm sure will span the next ten years of my life, but you quickly make up and are buddies again.  Your love for your brother makes me love you, sweet Jack, even more.
You are constantly in motion, running as fast as your tiny legs will carry you.  Your run is still hilarious and remains one of my favorite things about you.  You rarely sit still and refuse to let me come near you with my camera.  If I do catch you, you offer me your silliest grin, yell out a loud "cheese," and are on your way again.  Therefore, many of the pictures I take of you are a blurry mess, out of focus and often of your backside.  But I'll keep trying, and I'm sure you'll keep making me work for it.  This is you in all your glory, fast and funny, making sure that I stay on my toes and enjoy the wonderful ride of being your mother.
So another month has passed all too quickly and now it is painfully close to your second birthday.  Only two more months as a one year old, where have the days gone?  They have surely been spent tickling, running, yelling and laughing our way through each moment.  You will never fully understand what you mean to me and our family because, sweet one, there simply are no words to explain the endless joy you bring to everyone.  It is you, Jack, who puts the laughter in my heart and the grin on my face.  I love you little one.  So, so much.

More Deep Thinking

"Mama, why don't you, me and Jack go ahead up there to live with God?"

"Honey, what about Daddy?  If we left, he would be so sad."

"Well, he can come too."

"And what about Mema and G-Ma and Nana?  And Cade and Cannon?  They would all be so sad if we left."

"Well, why don't we all go ahead about there to live with God.  And then we can all be happy."

**************************

"Wow, Mama.  Look up there in the sky at that airplane.  It is so, so high."

"Oh, I see it Sam.  It is really, really high."

"Hey, Mama, if you see Randy way up there just say, 'Hey, Sam...Randy! Okay?' "

"Okay, honey."

Meet Baby

Meet sweet, little "Baby", the latest addition to the farm.   Not even two weeks old, Jody bought him and his Mom for the boys.  And possibly to sell baby donkeys, which I didn't realize was a booming business, but we'll see (Jody swears they'll sell like hotcakes around Christmas when people need them for their live nativity scenes...yes, I'm serious).  The boys love this little fella and I must admit that he is just the cutest little thing.  When Sam and Jack approach the fence, he comes over, waiting to be rubbed.  His mom comes too and she nips Sam's hands, as if to say, "Back off son, he's my baby."  We struggled to pick out a name because we wanted Sam to choose.  Well, Sam isn't so great at naming things.  He usually just combines syllables to come up with something he thinks sounds great.  Like..."Pun-dat" or "Chow-tock" or "Rur-pe."  We passed on all his "creative" syllable names and he insisted on naming him "Runs on White."  Yes, "Runs on White" like some old name given to an Indian Chief.  We have no clue where that came from.  Soon he changed his mind and insisted he be named "Baby Donkey."  Not to be confused with "Donkey Donkey," our other male donkey.  Not so creative, but he feels it's very important to include what type of animal you are in your name.  So we're shortening it to "Baby" and still debating over his Mom's name.  Although I'm quite certain it will likely be "Mama Donkey," in keeping with the theme around here.

Little Stinker

Jack has reached the not-so-fun stage of "Let's see how many times I can remove my diaper, today and manage to drive my mother insane!" Seriously, I know this is common and that all kids go through this stage.  I remember Sam doing it and it seems Jack's slightly younger cousin (by a mere 16 days), Landry, is driving her Mama nuts these days doing the same thing.  I know babies like being naked.  I get it, but Jack pushes it a little too far.  He is constantly removing his shorts and then his diaper, at least 30 times a day.  Let it go?  Encourage his free spirit?  Um, no thanks.  Why?  Because he doesn't just want to be naked, he wants to see how many places he can drop a turd on a given day. Yesterday, he removed his diaper and dropped a log in the playroom, on top of a pile of toys.  I spanked him, (he laughed) and cleaned up the nasty mess.  We then headed out to the office for a minute and I suddenly hear Sam gagging.  I run over to see that Jack has had diarrhea and removed his soiled diaper to finish the job in his little chair.  Again I spank him, give him my best mean look and stern talking to and head inside the house to clean him up.  Within 15 minutes, the diaper is back off and he has managed to squeeze a tiny little dropping out again.  Another spanking and by now I've had it and begin to threaten to put him in skin tight long johns that he can't pull off (who cares that it's 98 degrees).  So somethings got to give.  And I mean quick.  Until then, I will refrain from serving Jack fiber filled oatmeal for breakfast in a hopeless attempt to keep the turds on my floor/furniture to a minimum of one per day.  Lord help me.

 Naughty Little Stinker

Deep Thinker

"Mommy, how did Randy get up to heaven?  Did he fly up there?"

"Well, honey.  I guess you could say he flew up there like an angel."

"But why?"

"Because, honey.  Randy was very, very sick and God decided it was time for him to come live with him in heaven."

"Well, why doesn't he come get me when I'm sick?  Why don't I get to fly up to heaven with God?

"Because, Sam, it's not time for you to go to heaven yet.  You're just a little boy and I would be so sad if you left me, even to go to heaven."

"But Mommy, I'm ready.  I'm really, really ready."

"Ready for what?"

"To fly up to heaven and live with God.  I'm ready now."