7 Things I Want My Children To Know

Life is hard. But it’s worth it. Keep focusing on those silver linings. 

Life is filled with happiness and sadness, good and bad, like and dislike.  There are times of incredible hardship, when just the simple act of waking up in the morning and putting both feet on the floor is almost impossible. But even in those times there is light. Even when you feel you’ve lost everything or you have nothing or you can’t imagine taking one more step, there is something to be gained. 

There is always something positive to see, if you take the time to look. And there is always hope for a better day and a reason to keep on going. If you can just take that next step, just keep going, you’ll see that even in the darkest and longest tunnel, there is a light at the end.

Make mistakes and don’t be afraid to admit you did.

Nothing will ever be gained if you don’t take a chance. I’ve spent a good portion of my life being afraid to fail and ultimately failing miserably at so many things because I never took the chance to succeed. When things got hard for me, I quit them rather than fail.  The thought of trying and not succeeding at something was just too much for me to handle. I had to be in control.  

It wasn’t until I had children, something I couldn’t give up on, that I realized it’s okay to make mistakes. It’s NORMAL to make mistakes. I’ve made a mountain of mistakes raising the three of you and I’m sure I’ll make a couple mountains more. But you all are STILL amazing. I’m still in absolute awe of you and your little minds and your big ideas… and I realize that all the mistakes I’ve made have made you into these wonderful people. 

Don’t be afraid to tell other people about the mistakes you made.  Help other people learn from your mistakes and you’ll ultimately be making the world a better place. There’s no shame in screwing up if you can pick yourself up and move on. Just don’t give up just because something gets hard or looks scary. If it doesn’t work out, you learned a lesson. 

Don’t ever be afraid to be yourself.

The world is full of people trying to be something they’re not. But you have the opportunity to be real and true by being who you really are inside. What you think and believe makes you who you are. Don’t allow someone else to do your thinking for you. You’re smart and quick witted and kind and the thoughts and feelings that come from within you are more important than any thoughts that someone else tries to put in your head. 

In your life you’ll be bombarded constantly with propaganda. Messages trying to convince you to think a certain way or feel a certain way. But you know what is right for YOU. Be true to yourself, always, even when it’s difficult.  This life is a gift, don’t waste it living for anyone other than yourself.

Don’t be afraid of change.

The best things have come about by change so don’t cling fast to old ideas and comfortable surroundings for fear of change. The world will never stop changing. Get used to it. One day you’ll look back at your life and wonder what happened to one thing or another place. Hold on to your memories of those things you’ve loved in the past, but look forward to the wonderful things you will love in the future. 

It’s not an easy thing, to accept change. You’ll have to watch your parents get older, you’ll see people and animals that you love die and you’ll have to go on without them. You’ll move, you’ll start a new job, you’ll have a baby. And every time something changes it’s a little scary.  But with every change there is an opportunity for things to be even better, even more amazing, and for you to live an even happier life. 

And there’s always the opportunity to change again if things aren’t what you want them to be.

Be honest.

I think it was Mark Twain who once said “When in doubt, tell the truth.”  Honesty is almost always the very best policy.  There are few people in your life that you will be able to trust without question, but those people will mean more to you than everyone else. Because there is nothing that can compare to trust. 

Be that person that other people can trust. And not just with other people. Be that person with yourself, too. People lie to themselves even more than they lie to other people, and those little lies you tell yourself are the worst kinds of lies. 

If you know you’re always being truthful, you’ll create a sense of peace and tranquility within your life that can never be equaled by any amount of wealth or fame or friendships. Always be honest. 

If it feels like it might be the wrong thing to do, it probably is.

You have a voice inside yourself that will let you know when something is wrong. When your friends are about to do something you don’t feel comfortable with and are urging you to go along, listen to that voice. When someone offers you an opportunity that seems like it might be shady or dishonest or might hurt other people, listen to that voice. When you drive your car into a parking lot and hesitate to go inside whatever building is there because something just doesn’t feel right, listen to that voice.  You might never know what you avoided, but there’s a reason that voice is within you. Use it. 

You’ve been blessed to have wonderful people in your life that have given you guidance. That guidance has given you a conscious and a moral fiber that will help you for the rest of your life. Don’t waste that little voice inside of you, it’s there to keep you safe.

I will always love you.

No matter what you do, who you love, or path you follow, I will never stop loving you. Even on my most frustrating days, the days when I am disappointed and can't imagine how you could have made whatever decision you made, I will always, ALWAYS love you. You will always be my child and I will always be your mother and I will never give up on you.

Where Goober proves he's not afraid of anything! (Except for loud birds and the opening to HBO's Crashbox...)

Last weekend was my youngest niece's 7th birthday celebration at the fair.  When I was a little kid we went to the fair almost every year for B2's birthday as it always fell around the same time of the year.  So it was sort of nostalgic to go for her daughter's birthday this year.

It was probably the coldest day we've had so far this year in South Florida and it was slightly overcast which probably was what kept the crowds at bay so our kids could freely jump with practically no wait from one ride to another.

But before we even really got started, Goober, my youngest child at only eight years old decided he wanted to ride the Drop of Fear.

Let me just let you linger on that name for a minute. Drop of FEAR.

I had to do a little research just to figure out how big the Drop of Fear is and what I found was that the Drop of Fear is 131 feet high. And my eight year old wanted to ride it.

At first I thought that I would be saved by ride height limitations, but lucky for us, Goober has evidently just reached the 48 inch limit and was cleared for safety. Because my child plummeting 131 feet to the ground is safe.

Goober and The Man climbed aboard the ride and were strapped in safely and sat in anticipation while the rest of the riders buckled in.  Once everyone was strapped in, the ride began it's ascent.

And with every foot they rose, I felt that little panic ride in my throat. The one that causes me to do stupid things like start screaming obscenities at the ride operator in order to convince him to bring the ride down slowly and allow my baby to get off.  This is the same panic that caused "The Great Dragon Boat Freak Out of 1989" when B1 convinced me to get on that stupid dragon boat ride and I had a full on panic attack resulting in me screaming obscenities I didn't even know I knew to a poor unsuspecting ride operator as we flew back and forth through the air. I was absolutely SURE I was going to die.

Evidently I'm very foul mouthed when I think I'm going to die.

I felt my heart beating faster and I started to sweat a little in the 55 degree weather as I stared at the well worn soles of my little boy's sneakers as they dangled 131 feet above me. The wait for them to come back down was agonizing. 

But I kept it together as I watched Goober and The Man rise to the height of 131 feet and I only slightly dug my fingernails into B2's arm as they dropped.

I'm fairly certain they dropped even faster than the speed of 9.8 meters per second that natural gravity allows. I'm fairly certain I had a little mini heart attack as I watched.

I didn't get video of it because I was busy keeping myself in check, so I present you with a video someone else took of their own loved one aboard a similar ride.





Yeah.

When Goober got off the ride he was a little dizzy and slightly freaked out. He was actually so freaked out that he was a bit hesitant to go on any other rides for a little while until he realized that after the Drop of Fear they were all yawnsville.

I'm glad he's not proving to be an adrenaline junkie or anything.

The fair was wonderful, though. My favorite part was the baby cows in the Mooternity tent. We watched the wobbly little babies attempt to stand for the first time and it truly made my heart melt. I could watch them all day.

And we ate. And ate. And ate some more. I even ate an Italian sausage and felt terrible about it. I haven't fallen off the vegetarian wagon very often since I started, but it has happened a few times. The fair and all the yummy smells and delicious flavors pushed me over the edge. I did manage to stay away from the Krispy Kreme burger and the fried Oreos. But the sausage got me.

So back on the wagon... and the ground.

Ups and Downs and All Arounds

The Spaz is back!

I'm alive and well and so is the rest of the Spaz clan. Life is busy around here and when life gets busy I don't seem to have any blog worthy thoughts. I guess when I'm trying to keep up with the day to day, I don't spend a lot of time pondering the life, universe, and everything so the blog suffers.

In the past couple of months we've taken a trip to North Carolina, kicked around the idea of moving there and then decided to shelve the idea for the foreseeable future. It's beautiful up there and the idea of raising the kids in a small town environment is definitely appealing, but for right now we think it's best to stay put.

Though, when we returned home to find that we needed to drill a new well, fix our air conditioner, and replace our stove, I almost got back into the minivan, pointed it north, and refused to come back. A nice, new house in the gorgeous Great Smokey Mountains sure beats a messy, hot, and humid one with no running water in the middle of hurricane season in South Florida.

But responsibility won out and we got to work fixing the home owners nightmare we had returned home to. At this point, the biggest issue has been repaired (we dug the new well), the AC is in the process of being fixed, and the stove has been put on the back burner. Literally... that's the only burner I can use. The back one. But it's so hot I don't want to cook anyway. See how things work out?

This is the time of year I start obsessively checking weather.com and wondering when we'll get our first cold front. I do it every year, knowing full well that we'll be sweating while we trick-or-treat at the end of next month and I need to just give it up. In January I'll be complaining that my feet are cold and that my winter coat (aka ratty old hoodie) isn't warm enough.

The kids all went back to school in August and it's Bug's first year of middle school. He started making farting noises playing the clarinet with the beginning band and seems to be adjusting relatively well to the new, HUGE, middle school. Aside from his ridiculous new schedule that doesn't get him home from school until around 4:30, he seems to like school. We're having a bit of a hard time with homework since he doesn't appear to have enough time to complete it all before any reasonable hour, especially with karate three days a week, but we're working on getting it all organized. I have hope.

Munchkin is currently enjoying her "top of the school" fifth grade status and has found her passions lie with horses, skinny jeans, and this glam-goth style that would have been the height of cool when I was in high school if only we'd had the foresight to figure it out ourselves. She brought home a poster of Taylor Lautner from school today so I fear that she may have discovered boys.  Is it too early to start crushing birth control pills into her oatmeal?

Goober has started second grade and has joined the chorus. He's having a bit of a rough time because his best friend moved away last week and he's feeling a bit alone and sad at school. I'm really hoping he finds a new niche to settle into soon. His best friend has been in his class since kindergarten and to say they were tight is an understatement. He just celebrated his 8th birthday and the main focus of the day was, again, on LEGOs. He has amassed a LEGO collection worth several thousands of dollars I imagine and could probably build us a new house out of them if he put his mind to it. So we'll always have that to fall back on.

Two weeks ago we were mourned the loss of our beloved cat, Felix. His death was sudden and heartbreaking to our family and the kids were truly crushed. You might remember reading about him when our dog, Sudo, found him outside in a nest of kittens with his brothers and sisters causing him to be abandoned by his mother and then adopted by us. He will always hold a special place in our hearts as we bottle fed him and raised him from a little ball of fur with barely an eye open.

Without missing a beat, we decided to adopt two new kittens from the animal shelter to help heal our broken hearts. It's been a little over a week since we welcomed our new babies into our family and they've provided a great healing joy in our house. The kids have named them Mordecai and Rigby, but I call them Buddha and General Tso. The Man has decided to call them Sneezy and The Free One (kittens were buy one get one at the animal shelter... I kid you not).

So we're all getting back into the swing of the day to day here at the Spaz house. It's go-go-go around here with an activity every day. Between school, the barn, karate, eBay, girl scouts, and chorus, the minivan is getting a work out and so are we. I'll try to get back into a regular posting schedule soon. :)

The Spaz lives vicariously through her daughter... and other stuff, too...

I haven't had a lot of blogging time lately and part of that is due to my attempt to organize my life.  Working on getting my proverbial crap together hasn't left me a whole lot of time to flit around the blogosphere or post anything of my own.

But things are looking a little more together in Spazland.

One of the things on my list was to get the kids involved in the activities they've been begging to do for years. While my kids have always been fairly busy with friends and family, they've never been really involved in too many extra-curricular activities. Bug was involved in scouts for a year, Munchkin has girl scouts and Goober played one season of flag football, but other than that the kids mostly spend their time playing with friends and lounging around the house proclaiming boredom.

So it was a big goal of mine to get them each involved in an extra-curricular activity.  Bug enters middle school next year and I know how easy it is for unoccupied middle-schoolers to get themselves into trouble.  Munchkin's only a year behind him, too.  So in an attempt to keep them out of the path of certain mayhem, I'm planning to keep them busy.

Not only that, but summer is quickly barreling down upon us and I definitely want the kids to have some stuff to do this summer. 

The boys have both been begging for karate lessons for what seems like forever. In fact, I distinctly remember last summer getting a pamphlet for a karate school outside of the movie theater and thinking that I had been thinking about putting the boys in karate forever.  And that was a year ago. 

So the time has come.  Today the boys will take their first karate lesson.  They're following in the footsteps of The Man who spent nearly his entire youth in a karate studio.  They're both so excited they reminded me of the lesson this morning before school. 

Munchkin, a girl after my own heart, wanted nothing more than to saddle up and take riding lessons.  I winced when I researched the cost of lessons, but finally found a place not too far away that was almost reasonable.  I set up a lesson for her on Friday afternoon and went on an all day quest to locate boots and a helmet at thrift stores before her lesson.  I did score a pair of paddock boots in her size for $5, but the helmet we had to buy new.  I guess it all evened out.

Friday afternoon, Munchkin could barely contain herself as we drove to the barn. We live in horse country. We have dressage show grounds so close to us that we can hear the announcers from our back yard when the wind is right. We're a hop, skip, and small jump away from polo country and the most elite of Florida's hunter/jumper society.

But that's not what I want for Munchkin.  When I was growing up, the barn I rode at was laid back.  Sure, we could put on our best breeches and boots and fit in with the crowd at the shows on the weekends, but back at the barn there was no pretension.  We had broken fences and weedy grass and broken pick up trucks in the back.  And when I was growing up it was my favorite place to be.

So when I pulled into the driveway at the barn where Munchkin was starting lessons, I was thrilled when a little Jack Russel terrier came running over to us and jumped right up on us.  I was elated to see patches of sand and fences that hadn't seen a coat of paint in at least a decade.  We called over the fence to a girl who was in the barn and she motioned for us to come on in, even though there were several horses grazing in the yard right outside of the barn.  A big, dark brown Thoroughbred named Bud walked right over and greeted us and I thought Munchkin might faint with delight.

The girl brought out a large pony named Misty and clipped some leads on to her to get her tacked up for Munchkin's lesson. Munchkin couldn't resist giving Misty a hug as she was being brushed.  I thought I might cry.  Instead, I took pictures.



During the lesson I had to keep myself from shouting my own instructions out to Munchkin.  I kept apologizing to her instructor, who was incredibly patient with both Munchkin and her pain in the ass mother.  I promised that from now on, I'd just drop Munchkin and go since I obviously couldn't keep my mouth shut.



Munchkin gained a lot of confidence during her lesson and by the end of it had gotten the hang of trotting and posting and getting Misty to move even when she didn't want to.  When the lesson was over, Munchkin truly didn't want it to end.  Misty, however, was thrilled to be done and ready to get back to grazing.



Her next lesson is scheduled for tomorrow. I promised I wouldn't stay and watch. Hopefully it won't kill me to just drop her off.  

Still tired... so very, very tired...

So when we were preparing our skin for melanoma sitting outside at Outback on mother's day we were discussing this blog.  Affectionately referred to as "the blog" by my family.

B1 has taken to saying to people when we're together "Be careful! She'll blog about that!"

Which delights me to no end, actually.

Anyhow, B1 noted I'm always trying to improve myself and that she might not like the new and improved me as much as she likes the old and spazzy one. I couldn't help but chuckle.

My Dad noted that I just thrive on having goals.

But the truth is that I really am just not happy with my disorganized, crazy, messy life. I know I'm missing out and I know my family suffers for it.  It's that thought that is keeping me going with this little project I'm working on now.

Because if it weren't for those "goals" in my head, I would have totally given up on this "Becoming a Morning Person" thing today. 

I'm sure it will take some time for me to get used to this new schedule of mine where I wake up early, stay up all day, and go to bed early.  But in the meantime, I'm absolutely so incredibly tired.

Today I was pretty okay until about 3 pm.  And then the tired set in.  It took everything I had to keep on trucking and not just crawl into bed for a nap.  But somehow I managed to finish work, feed the kids, get some laundry done, get Munchkin's supplies for her project (due tomorrow, of course), and take Goober over to the park for this season's football pre-qualifying session.

Goober will be playing tackle football this year.  Not flag.  This makes me nervous... but darnit if he won't look cute in that uniform. I can't wait to get pictures.

I can totally handle nature that hides in its protective shell until I get far, far away from it

I spent last weekend at Disney's Fort Wilderness with four grown women and eleven 9 and 10 year old girls. That's why I haven't been posting... because it has taken me a while to get my life back together. Camping with eleven girls takes a lot out of you. Go figure.

I'm still not completely back together. But then again I'm not sure I was together before we left.

I think I'll post about that soon, but for right now I'm going to post about Mr. Turtle.

Today while I was busily listing stuff on eBay, Munchkin came in to say "There's a TURTLE in the yard! A TURTLE!!!"

And I guess I watch too much TV because my first thought was:

But then I realized she was probably talking about the reptilian version.  And since we live in the backwoods of South Florida, turtles aren't really odd occurrences.

So I looked at her and said "Yeah, so?"

Because I'm an awesome mom.

So I guess that reaction wasn't enough for Munchkin. Because about 3 minutes later she came in to my office holding the turtle.

A good blogger would have immediately grabbed the camera. But I'm not a good blogger, because I screeched "OH MY GOSH! YOU BROUGHT IT IN THE HOUSE!!!"

And Munchkin turned and ran with the turtle.

Outside I allowed them to pose with Mr. Turtle, all the while reminding them that turtles are VERY SCARY and will reach their little necks out and BITE YOUR FINGERS OFF.



I'm all about giving my children complexes.  So they can grow up fearing nature instead of embracing it, just like their mother.

I hope Mr. Turtle figures out how to move his little turtle legs quickly because my children probably won't be leaving him alone until he figures out how to sneak out of the yard without them noticing.  Or he bites a finger off.  And that will make an excellent blog post, don't you think?

What's the big deal about organization anyway? Maybe he's just creative...

Today I had a parent/teacher conference with Goober's teacher. I dread parent/teacher conferences. Before my kids were of school age, I never thought I'd be the mom who hated parent/teacher conferences... but alas, things are never what you expect when it comes to children.

The first thing I hate about conferences is the fact that they're always scheduled at 7:30 in the morning.  I typically get the kids to school around this time (they don't have to be there until 8, but Munchkin demands socialization time) so it's not as if I'm not awake.  It's that I'm not awake.

At 7:30 the coffee has not had a chance to work its way through my system. It is all I can do to drive the kids to school without veering into a ditch and the kids' teachers expect me to be wide eyed, bushy tailed, dressed in something other than pajamas, and ready to listen to them tell me my kid sucks criticize my parenting tell me I suck talk about my child's strengths and weaknesses.

So yeah, that's the first thing I hate about parent/teacher conferences.

The second thing I hate about them is that they consistently tell me the same things that I've already read in notes, or noticed myself, or heard from other people already.  And I want to ask them why it's important that I come in and listen to them tell me these things to my face so I can bask in the humiliation of it all in person.

I can remember back to Bug's first parent/teacher conference in kindergarten.  It was no big deal.  Because, really, in kindergarten as long as your child doesn't eat paste or stab the other children with dull scissors, it's pretty much no big deal.  I figured we were off to a great start with school and patted myself on the back for a parenting job well done.

Unfortunately, things have changed over the years. I'm now fully aware that Bug is slow when it comes to writing, that he's disorganized, that he's melancholy, that he forgets to turn in assignments.  I know that Munchkin talks too much in class, has a hard time when she doesn't get her way, and can be bossy.  Shocking!

Today's conference wasn't all that bad.  Goober's in first grade now and I've learned that the conferences really don't start to get rough until about third grade.  But I did get to hear how polite he is, how he's disorganized, and how he's a strong reader.  Like a criticism sandwich.  They must hold teacher seminars on how to have these conferences because it always goes like that.  Compliment, criticize, compliment, sign paper, check.

The thing is, these are things I already know.  Yes, Goober is disorganized.  He's messy.  He's the kid who jams papers in his backpack sans folder and forgets to give me permission slips until the day before the field trip when his teacher finally threatens that he'll have to sit in the office while the rest of the class goes to the zoo.  I know all of these things.  He's like that everywhere.

Just once I'd like to sit down with their teacher and act shocked.

But Goober's room is spotless at home! He asked for file folders and a label printer for his birthday! We forced those LEGOs on him in an attempt to get him to think outside the box.

Yes, I know my kid is disorganized.  It's probably my fault because I'm disorganized.  Or maybe that's just how he is.  Maybe he's going to be an artist or a musician and his right brain is just too dominant for him to bother with petty little details like paperwork and color coded folders.

Or maybe he's just a disaster. But either way, I know.

Goober has two teachers.  One is considered his "homeroom" teacher and is where he reports in the morning and learns science and math.  The other teaches him reading and writing.  They played good cop, bad cop with me this morning.  His homeroom teacher told me how polite he is and how he hugs her and how he wants to please.  The reading teacher told me how he daydreams too much and how he won't finish assignments because he is scatter brained.  Then his homeroom teacher told me how he's so smart and above grade level.

Criticism sandwich, with two chefs.

And I smiled and nodded and signed. Check.

Goober & The Dentist

Yesterday Goober had his first trip to the dentist.

Yes, I am a terrible mother and my almost 7 year old had never been to the dentist before yesterday. I realize this officially extinguishes any chance I have for entering the mommy hall of fame. Bite me.

To be completely honest with you, I would have put it off even longer. Because I'm about as scared of the dentist as I am of frogs jumping on my face.

I do attempt to not force this fear on to my children and I lie to them the entire way to the dentist by saying things like "Oh honey, don't worry! The dentist is GREAT and he keeps your teeth healthy and strong! The dentist is a wonderful place!"

All the while I'm shaking in my flip flops at the mere thought of entering a dentist's office.

Anyhow, as I was saying, I would have put off the dentist even longer if I could have. But Goober had an issue. Some time when he was 3 or 4 he was playing in the bathtub and fell and hit his front tooth on the side of the tub. The tooth then turned an interesting shade of off-gray and his pediatrician assured me that it just had nerve damage and would fall out just like any other baby tooth, but that I should probably take him to the dentist just to be sure.

I chose to not hear that last part because dentists are evil... so what I heard was "Everything is fine. Don't worry about it. You're a great mom."

(I happen to know of a wonderful dentist who is a brownie mom in Munchkin's troop and she is not evil at all... but I may think differently if I saw her at work with one of those horrible drills in her hand.)

So a few months ago the funky off-gray tooth started to get wiggly and I got excited that the sucker was finally going to be gone. Except... it never fell out. And his new grown up tooth was coming in all funny behind it. So I consulted Miss Wonderful Brownie Mom Dentist at our last meeting and she gave me the look. The look said "Get your kid to a dentist and get that thing yanked, lady."

And then she recommended to me a good pediatric dentist.

So I took my poor little nervous Goober yesterday morning, bright and early, to his very first dentist visit. And he was scared. And I lied to him the whole car ride there, telling him how great the dentist is and all that complete BS.

Little nervous Goober bravely sat down in the intimidating dentist chair and as he waited for the hygienist to come clean his teeth, he listened intently to the screaming child across the hall getting his teeth cleaned. He looked at me and said "Well, at least I'm not that kid."

And I wanted to grab his adorable little self and haul him out of there. My mommy heart was breaking.

He had his x-rays done and then his cleaning and he was looking pretty strong and happy. The dentist came and took a glance in his mouth and then did a wincey noise and gave me the look that said "I'm going to cause your baby a great deal of pain and you'd better buck up and not cry in front of him."

The hygienist frowned a little and told Goober he could pick three toys out of the treasure chest.

Goober thought he was all done when he got to get up and pick out toys. I'm sure his little head was thinking "Hey, mom was right! This dentist thing wasn't so bad at all!"

Oh, my poor sweet boy.

I had to go out to the desk and sign a paper that consented them to cause a horrible amount of pain to my dear little man. And then they took Goober into a different room. And I couldn't be in there with them. Probably because mothers have previously smacked the crap out of that dentist when he did what he was about to do to my baby.

I looked through the glass section of the door and watched helplessly as they strapped my baby down so he was powerless to move. I watched them give him a little nitrous oxide (evidently not enough), and then I watched as the dentist yanked both of his two front teeth out and I heard my little Goober scream bloody murder.

And I cried.

But not in front of him.

By the time he came out, sniffling with a mouth full of bloody gauze. I had dried my tears and gave him a big smile. The dentist made some joke about Goober being full of drama and I resisted the urge to smack him.

I know, I know... he was just doing his job.

Goober got over the sniffles pretty quickly when the hygienist showed him his teeth and put them in a little container so he could put them under his pillow for the tooth fairy. That was pretty darned exciting, because Goober had never had a visit from the tooth fairy before.

So all is well again in the Spaz household. And Goober now has more cash than I do.

Now he is SIX

ZOMG I'm posting something.

I know it's been over a month since I last posted and it had been a while before that. It's just... the pressure... the pressure got to me.

But you know what? I'll get into that more in another post.

Because today's post is for something else. It's for GOOBER!

Today is Goober's 6th birthday. SIX! My baby, my last child, my youngest. He's six. It boggles my mind how fast the time has flown by.

So, of course, we must have another birth story.

Goober was scheduled. It was a Friday. My doctor wanted me to schedule him for Thursday but I refused, not wanting his birthday to be a day of mourning for the rest of the country. I remember she seemed irritated by that. Whatev.

That Thursday night, as memorial programming graced our TV, I folded laundry and scrubbed the floors. I washed the bathroom, I dusted the windowsills, I made sure every dish was put away and everything in place for when we brought our brand new baby home. I didn't get even a wink of sleep. Because, really, who sleeps when they know they're going to have a new person the very next day??

We arrived at the hospital at some ridiculous hour. It was still dark outside. I was dressed in my favorite maternity shirt and our bags were packed. Sitting in the hospital bed, all hooked up to monitors and waiting for the doctor to get there and perform my Cesarean, I carefully applied makeup and made sure my hair looked great. I knew people would be taking pictures and for ONCE I was going to be prepared.

As the sun came up, family began arriving. Our hospital room was filled with all the people who loved us, all fresh faced and excited. Before long, The Man was dressed up in some weird meshy get-up, and I was being wheeled into the operating room. Yeehaw!

I sort of wish The Man was writing this because his perspective of the whole thing is so much different than mine. His involves blood and a screaming purple alien and a horrible fear that I would die.

Mine is much less gory.

Perhaps from lack of sleep or a bad reaction to the anesthesia or who knows what else, I had to continuously ask my poor anesthesiologist for one of those little barf trays while they prepped me. It never stopped. Luckily I had followed directions and not eaten anything for 12 hours so it was nothing but water. Oh how fun.

It all seems like a blur... not as clear to me as when Munchkin was born. The Man was very attentive... perhaps a little horrified at what was going on around him.... and before I knew it we heard him cry.

And yes, he was screaming and purple, but somehow my heart grew again and made room for another love of my life.

It wasn't a perfect delivery, though. I was reacting badly to anesthesia and caused The Man some huge amount of worry. Poor Goober had a ton of fluid in his lungs that had to be cleared out and all in all we had the nurses running around in a small panic.

Once my vomiting was under control and I was simply an odd shade of greenish blue and shaking uncontrollably, I was deemed a-ok and ready to head back to see my family. Goober was already in the room being fawned all over by everyone.

And he certainly was adorable.

And he still is!

The One Where Goober Says "WHAT?!"

We spent the last few days without water. Or without much water at any rate. It's all well and good now... thanks to my wonderful brother in law who knows a thing or two about plumbing. :)

I can't tell you how wonderful having running water is when you haven't had any for a few days. Hot running water. Hot running water that comes out in a gushing river of happiness. Oh, to be clean again! I've never been so excited by a load of laundry and a full dishwasher!

In other news, I think we're finally done with all the sickness in the house. It took us a good 2 weeks but I think all three of the kids are finally ready to go back to school. Except it's Saturday. Poor Goober has to take antibiotics for the next 10 days, though, since his sickness turned into ear infections on both ears resulting in a ruptured ear drum in one ear.

I know... that horrified me as well.

In fact, I had always believed that if you ruptured your ear drum you were pretty much going to be deaf in that ear forever more. Evidently, this is not so. Goober should be able to hear us again within 2 months. That's right, he's a little hard of hearing right now. The world must be very peaceful to him... I'm sort of envious.

To the person who searched "putting your man back into diapers" and arrived at my blog - I'm just confused. Please comment and explain. :)

Did you know that rats can't vomit?

They can't... and they can't burp, either. Weird, huh?

Kids can vomit, though....

Monday was my birthday and that's when I awoke to the first sick kid. Munchkin had a fever and generally just felt like crap so I let her stay home from school.

In doing so I gave up my birthday lunch, but such is life. She was such a good sick kid, too. She basically just curled up in blankets, watched TV, and slept.

That night I dragged her out for a birthday dinner with my family because I'm a bad mommy who cares more about celebrations than her child's welfare.... and her temperature was under 100 so I figured she'd live.

At dinner there was much fun and ruckus. My friend, Jenny, tagged along as she had just flown in from PA that afternoon. I think my family may have frightened her a bit... but I'm sure she'll get over it. I received gifts of 8 Tervis Tumblers and a Wii Fit from my wonderful family. Sweet! I've been playing with the Fit every morning and it continues to insult me for being a fat ass, but in a very cute way.

Tuesday morning I awoke to two sick kids. Munchkin was still running a fever and Goober was starting one up. I packed Bug up for school and drove him in, letting the other two sleep in. Unfortunately by 10:30 I received a call from the school nurse. Again.

So Tuesday and Wednesday was spent with me emptying bowls of vomit, taking temperatures, encouraging kids to sleep, settle down, watch Disney. Oh, it's been fun around here. Today Goober and Munchkin were well enough to head back to school but Bug's temperature has been all over the place and the poor kid just feels terrible.

And me? I'm just exhausted.

Surgery Update

We waited forever for Goober's surgery yesterday. Poor little man hadn't eaten for over 12 hours and I had to watch him like a hawk. He managed to sneak 1 piece of popcorn by me but the nurse didn't seem very concerned with that.

When we got to the Surgery Center Goober was not happy to have to take off all of his clothes and put on the hospital gown. I guess no one's really pleased to have to do that, even when they're only 5.

He was a little nervous, but mostly remained the little champ we know him to be. He did not cry, he asked a couple of times if anything would hurt, and he was mostly quiet and thoughtful while everyone talked and buzzed about him.

Once he was in surgery I was a bit of a wreck. I tried to busy myself by filling out the invitations for my BFF's upcoming baby shower but I couldn't think. The Man kindly made me a cup of coffee which I proceeded to spill all over the place and then burn the crap out of my mouth on. I then locked myself in the little bathroom and cried for a minute while I got myself together.

Before very long the surgeon came out and told us everything had gone great and gave us all of our instructions and we were allowed back to see him.

I went back first and Goober was awake but very groggy. Once I promised him I would not leave his side again, he fell back asleep.

A little after 5 the nurse began disconnecting him from machines and the IV and he woke up.

After a little orange Gatorade he was wide awake and ready to get his clothes on and get out of there.

Today he's hopped up on Tylenol and watching every Disney movie available to us. Thank goodness it's over.

I think I'm more worn out than he is

Thanks to everyone who sent their positive thoughts and prayers out to Goober today. I'm happy to say he made it through his ordeal just fine and is now home in Mommy and Daddy's bed watching Spongebob and coloring in brand new coloring books with brand new crayons. I'll post more detail later... we're all exhausted around here. :)

Nothing to eat or drink? Not even Benadryl?

It's always helpful to read the comments section of posts. Today I learned by reading Dawn's post, that if my toddler ever shoves anything up his or her nose I can plug the other side of his or her nose and blow a large puff of air into his or her mouth, therefore shoving the offending object out by forced air. Who knew? I no longer have a toddler, but I'm sure I will have one or five more in my care at some point in the future. If only my sister had known this trick a few months ago when my niece put a "princess bead" up her nose.

I think I've mentioned before that today is the day that my baby will have surgery. Me, worried? Never!

At this point I'm more worried about the doctor's orders that Goober eat or drink nothing, NOT EVEN WATER from 6 AM this morning until we go into the surgery center at 1:30. The other day when I received those orders I had a brilliant idea. I would keep Goober up as late as I possibly could and therefore he would sleep most of the morning away.

I know, I'm a genius.

So last night I declared that it would be Goober and Mommy night. I left The Man at home with Bug and Munchkin and I picked Goober up from pre school a little after 5. We perused his school book fair a bit, made a small selection and then headed over to my mom and dad's house. I dropped Goober with my mom for an hour while I met my sister at the gym. Mom read him his new books and entertained him with blocks.

Around 7 pm I returned and we all ate some dinner that my dad had picked up. Goober was entertained with a catalog of toys. He pointed to every toy in it that he wanted (all of them... except, oh wait, I already have that one).

At almost 8 we decided to run over to Walmart and pick up some new crayons and coloring books since Goober would be in bed for at least 24 hours after his surgery and might need some entertainment.

Around 8:30 (officially 1/2 hour past bedtime) we stopped into Friendly's where Goober enjoyed two scoops of ice cream and mommy enjoyed coffee.

Pardon my photo quality, I left my camera at home so all pictures are taken with my camera phone.

Next we decided to take in a film at our local cinema. Our feature presentation started at 9:40 so we had some time to kill. Goober enjoyed a bit of "pretend we actually did put quarters in the machine" Dance Dance Revolution.

By quarter after 9 we sauntered over to the refreshment counter and made a selection of giant popcorn and giant Mr. Pibb. It was then time to make sure we got great seats.

Here are the seats that Goober selected. The seats ALL the way at the top of the theater. I wonder how much my three times a week workouts are doing for me since I was positively breathless once we reached the top. Perhaps I should lay off the Twizzlers.

Surprise, surprise! We had the theater all to ourselves. I guess Igor doesn't sell too many tickets at 9:40 on a Monday night.

The movie was okay. A "wait till it comes out on DVD" flick at best.

Goober started to fall asleep about an hour in. I had to wake him up and hold his attention.

As we left the theater he got a sort of second wind. So at quarter after 11 we stopped at the playground! After 15 minutes of swings and chasing each other around I declared that the playground was kind of spooky even though it was well lit and decided we should leave.

We stopped at Walgreens on the way home so I could pick up deoderant. No one likes a smelly mommy. As I perused the facial moisturizers with SPFs of 30, Goober announced loudly that he was tired and hungry.

Officially making me appear to be the terrible mother who had her 5 year old out at almost midnight and hadn't fed him.

When we arrived home just after midnight, The Man's brother was here and provided more entertainment. I managed to give Goober a bath before passing out around 1:30 AM. Goober was still awake playing with the men.

I fell asleep knowing he would soundly sleep until at least 10.

He was up at 7:45 AM.

He's now entertaining himself by spinning in an office chair.

PS - If you haven't already, please take a moment to vote for October's Little Fish! Thanks!

Look! A Diversion!

Today's the last day Goober will have his "outie"... tomorrow he's having his surgery.

I said I wasn't worried about it.

I am.

I can't help it.

I know I'm being silly.

Today is Anne of Cleves birthday. She is my favorite of all of Henry's wives.

5 is so NOT a baby

Today is Goober's 5th birthday. He's the first of his pre school class to turn 5 and he is just SO proud. I, on the other hand, am a wreck. He's my youngest, my last, and he's definitely no baby anymore. There will be tears shed today by me.

I dropped him at school this morning, 18 Spiderman cupcakes in hand. Tonight we'll have a party at my parents and we'll continue the weekend as an all out birthday extravaganza, parties all over the place! Pictures will follow.

But for now? A Goober montage.

This is the first picture we ever took of him with our own camera. It's actually a camera phone picture from The Man's phone at the time. He stayed in that Boppy for a good two months as it seemed to be the only place he'd sleep.

Here he is at his first visit to the park where he really got to play. He loved the swing. The wind in his face thrilled him!

One he was on his feet we were in for trouble. As a mom we're always encouraging our babies to take those first steps. What are we thinking?

Goober has always had such an animated personality. He's a comedian and has been trying to get us all to laugh since he could first laugh himself.

When he was about three we couldn't EVER go to a restaurant without him hiding under the table. He loved to go down there when we weren't paying close enough attention and pop out to surprise us.

Always inventive, always entertaining.

He has no problems making new friends, adults, kids, animals, whatever. He's the first to introduce himself in any situation and has no fear at all of anyone. If his outgoing personality keeps up, Goober is sure to go places. Goober for President, 2040! He's gonna change the world. :)

It's a novel little navel

Hey y'all! I've posted over at Mommy Matter today about how my kids are growing up at an insane rate of speed. I'd be thrilled if you'd head over there and check out the site! Mommy Matter is a fantabulous community. If you haven't perused the site, you don't know what you're missing!

In other news, today we scheduled Goober's umbilical hernia surgery. My baby's going under the knife.

He's going to hate doctors by the time this month is over. Not only did he have to get four shots just last month, but now he has to go back in two weeks for more shots and then surgery on the 23rd! How do you tell a five year old that doctors are there to help us when all they do is cause my poor little guy pain?

Goober is brave, though. He's excited that his button is going to look just like everyone else. I'm sort of sad, though. I always thought his little hernia was just a cute little outie.

And then the doctor said "See how that's blue right there?" (referring to a little spot on his cute little outie that I've always assumed was a vein) "That's poop!"

Orly? Somehow Goober's little outie just got a little less cute. Slice him up, Doc!

Oh, but I jest.

Even though this little "procedure" takes only about 15 minutes and Goober can come home with us after a few hours of recovery time and will probably even be cleared to go to school the next day, there's just something a little nerve wracking about handing my child, my baby, my youngest and last over to the capable hands of a surgeon. Oh I know, it's not a big deal and he'll be fine in no time at all. I know it's so much better to do this type of thing now than to wait until he's an adult because his recovery time is faster and all. I know he's a super healthy little guy and this surgeon is absolutely wonderful and he'll be fine.

Of course he'll be fine. He'll be better than fine. He'll have a new button!

I can't help but worry. I'm not so worried about him during the surgery or during the recovery time at the surgical center. It's when he gets home that I'm going to freak. I mean, can't they please keep him overnight for observation? Shouldn't professionals be handling his recovery? I'm expected to bring him home to this chaos and keep him quiet and calm for days while his siblings jump around and wrestle and create general mayhem?

Are you guys thinking it's time for Benedryl or is that just me?

Narcolepsy in the family?

Goober loves shots!

My Blogger Dashboard looks different this morning.

I've been frazzled, my peeps. School starts on Monday morning here and all of my 3 will be entering the school system again this year. Things have been a little crazy around here.

Goober is starting a new pre-school this year. Being that his birthday is September 12th and the school board's cut off date is September 1st, he's not eligible to enter kindergarten until next year. I was all upset about this a year or so ago but these days I'm sort of happy I'll have an extra year with him in the end.

He's so excited he can barely contain himself. He has a little box of supplies all ready to go to school on Monday with his name plastered all over everything in black Sharpie marker. This new school even has a pool and they give the kids swimming lessons once a week!

Goober had to get shots to go to school. His appointment was scheduled for Monday and on Sunday night I told him.

"Tomorrow I'm going to take you to the doctor and they're going to give you some shots."
"Shots?"
Goober knew nothing of shots.
"Yes, and it will hurt a little but afterward we'll get you a lollipop."
"Lollipops! I LOVE shots!"
Oh boy.

Monday we sat in the waiting room with about fifty kajillion other parents and kids who all needed to get shots. Goober is a talkative little guy and he had no problem making friends with some of the other kids.

"I'm going to get shots!" He announced with glee. "I LOVE shots!"

The other kids thought he was crazy.

When we got into the exam room (after an hour and a half of the waiting room) Goober was very excited to get to pee in a cup. I was not so excited, but was thankful it was Goober and not Munchkin. Munchkin peed all over my hand when we had to do this.

The doctor came in and checked him out and told me he was perfect.

Except for one little thing that I was worried about. Goober has an umbilical hernia. When he was born it was just nutty how big it was and now it's so much smaller I was sure it wasn't even a problem. It's just an outie, right?

Wrong. It's still a hernia and he needs to have surgery to correct it. I'm so sad about this. My poor little guy under the knife! Our appointment with the surgeon is the 28th so I'm trying to forget about it until then.

After I was told that my little man was going to be sliced and diced, it was on to the shots!

"I LOVE shots!"

Except shots hurt and Goober wasn't exactly anticipating that. He had to have two shots in each arm and after the first one he had had ENOUGH of that shot thing.

"I HATE shots!" he cried through tears. I cried, too.

My poor little man. I got him a hot fudge sundae from McDonalds to compensate.

Don't you just want to pinch those cheeks?

I don't have a lot of time today and I can't think of much to say... so I leave you with this:

Now, how can you not smile at that?!

Still looking for Little Fish Nominations, peeps!