1 John 4:10-11

(Little Boy is in the hospital recovering from his open-heart surgery, so I will be posting a couple more videos of Little Girl during these busy busy days. Enjoy!)

Hallowing Christ This Halloween

My husband Scott recently wrote about how Christians should interact with the holiday of Halloween. This is a copy of the article he posted on our church website this week.

What are your plans for trick-or-treat this year? Will you lock the door, turn off the porch light and retire to the basement? Will you go shopping, or out to eat? Or will you embrace the reality that dozens of little lost souls are parading up to your front door with their hands out, asking you to give them something — anything?

For the first few years of our marriage, Joy and I were the former. To us, participating in any Halloween activity was an endorsement of the demonic. It meant we were OK with the fake human cadavers and the blood-soaked mock murder scenes up and down our street. To us, Halloween had gone way too far, and we were not about to participate. In hindsight, that was not a biblical response.

As years went by, we became convicted as we began to see that the Bible calls us to have a much different attitude toward society. Instead of burying our heads in the sand and plugging our ears, we are to be the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13). Instead of turning our backs on what’s going on in society, we are to shine as lights in the world (Philippians 2:15). Salt cannot have a seasoning effect if it is left in the cupboard. It must come in contact with blandness before its saltiness can be realized.

Not to mention the biblical commands to show hospitality (Romans 12:13; 1 Timothy 3:2; Titus 1:8; 1 Peter 4:9). By holing up in our house, we were sending an unspoken message “not welcome” to our closest neighbors, many of whom we had never met — and many of whom probably didn’t know Christ.

We often think of hospitality as entertaining friends in our home for a meal. But the true definition of hospitality differs on three levels. First, hospitality doesn’t necessarily involve an invitation. Secondly, hospitality is extended to strangers, not friends. And thirdly, hospitality isn’t limited to your home.

If you want to get really technical, hospitality is making an uninvited stranger feel welcome in the space where God has placed you, no matter where that is. It can mean welcoming a stranger into your office at work. It can mean extending a warm greeting to a new face at church. It can mean putting your briefcase in your lap on the bus so someone can sit next to you. There are hundreds of other examples.

Halloween is a magnificent opportunity to show the love of Christ to strangers, which moves us much closer to the true definition of hospitality. Sure, these passing strangers are dressed funny and are lugging candy-filled pillow cases. But consider that no other 2-hour window during the year affords us such an obvious opportunity to reflect the glory of Christ to our community.

Joy and I still hand out candy like everyone else, but we include an invitation card to our church. It is subtle. But each time we drop one in a bag, we lift up a prayer that the card will make its way into a home that needs Christ, or that needs a church home. Our job is to plant the seeds and God will grant the fruit in His providence. You may want to use Gospel tracts. Either way, it’s a tremendous opportunity to reach out to the neighborhood with the message of hope.

It was only a few years ago that God helped me to see that as a believer, I had something of infinite value to offer to the witches, goblins, super heroes and scarecrows — and their parents — who graced our front door every year. And that removing myself from trick-or-treat was a terrible mistake. I was wasting our opportunity to simply show the love of Christ, drop an invitation to church into their pillow case — and who knows, maybe even start a conversation that leads to sharing the Gospel.

So this year, don’t retreat to the back bedroom or the basement. Turn on all the outside lights. Open your door and do everything you can to make your house an outpost of heaven — and your life a salty seasoning to your lost neighbors who need Christ. You won’t have this easy an opportunity until next year!

Matthew 13:44

A Day to Celebrate

I never dreamed that one day I would celebrate tossing a pile of bibs into the trash. But today I realized that Elli's saliva gland surgery had been a success, so therefore I had no more need of the massive pile of bibs I've collected over the past 7 years.


This is only part of the collection -- about 3 years ago I weeded through my collection at that time and destroyed many decrepit or permanently stained bibs. The towering pile you see here is all permanently stained and decrepit. With great relish I tossed the lot into the trash tonight.

The two smaller stacks are memento bibs or ones that I think I can use with Little Boy (one has bibs that need some bleach work and one are bibs in good conditions -- must have hidden in the bottom of the drawer!).

It was a real treat to celebrate such a positive milestone for Elli. She barely dampens the collar of her shirts these days! Before the surgery, she would soak a shirt to her waist in an hour -- two if we were lucky. Not only is her skin healthier, but her lungs sound better, she coughs less, and she doesn't stain up her shirts like she used to. Little Girl will actually get hand-me-downs now!

Out of the Mouths of Babes

I have been saving up a few of the kids' latest "isms." I want to write them down before I forget!

Little Girl:
Many "r" and "l" sounds come out like "w." Examples include Dor-wuh (Dora), stwaw-beh-wies (strawberries)

Little Girl spent 20 minutes of a recent drive singing the same line from a Veggie Tales song over and over and over and over. It was from "Esther" and the last half of it was pretty mangled. She belted out something like, "The battle one doo wah doo wah doo doo!"

Little Girl is my drama queen. Everything is a calamity, from Big Boy "not wetting me share" (which means he wasn't sharing with her) to having wardrobe malfunctions (she hates to need help and loses it if I give anything beyond what she asks for!) to being unable to locate a sippee cup.

Little Girl absolutely loves Little Boy. She snuggles up next to him when he's having floor time, strokes his face and head, kisses him, helps with the "straps" on his diapers, and finds countless other ways to shower him with affection. Sometimes I'm a little freaked out by her suffocatingly-close attention, but aside from squeezing his nostrils shut a few times, so far she seems harmless. (The nostril incidents have been sternly addressed. I know I have gotten through to Big Boy, but I'm not sure about Little Girl  yet.)

Big Boy:
One day we were getting ready to eat. Big Boy had been singing this song he made up. It goes, "I like Spiderman; You like Batman too." He was mid-song when I told them to stop so we could pray. He stopped, just as I asked. Then as soon as we were done thanking God for our food, he resumed right where he left off!

It went like this:
Bigi Boy sings, "I like Spiderman; You like Batman...."
I interrupt. "Ok kids. Stop so we can pray."
Little Girl prays. "De-uh God. Thank you for our food. In Jesus' name. Ay. Men."
Big Boy sings, "...too!"

One day Big Boyasked me about the picture on our fireplace mantle. It's of Scott and I at our wedding. I explained to him about marriage and husbands and wives. He wanted to know where we were, so I told him we got married at my parents' church. He started thinking about who he might like to marry. I told him that church is a good place to find a wife.

He pondered for a few seconds. Then he announced, "Mom, I think I'll marry Erica."

I told him Erica was a fine choice, but I also said that he might not have met the girl yet. I told him that his dad and I didn't meet until we got to college.

A few days later, he came up to me and declared, "Mom, I'm not going to marry Erica. I'm not going to get married at all."

I had no idea why the change of heart, but I told him that was ok too.

When I shared the story with Scott, he laughed outloud. Apparently Big Boy had talked to him about being Spiderman and about getting married when he grew up. Scott had told him that Spiderman has to work nights and weekends a lot, so it would be better not to be married if he was Spiderman. Big Boy decided he'd rather be Spiderman than get married!

We're getting a family portrait taken this week. Scott and I were talking about it and how I was planning coordinating outfits for everyone. Big Boy overheard the conversation.

"Mom, you know how we all have those star shirts? We could wear those! Dad and I have the same ones!"

The "star shirts" are school spiritwear -- for Elli's school. I was thinking of something a little more formal.

Elli:
We visited some old friends for dinner a few days ago. The man of the house always plays Veggie Tales videos on his wide-screen TV for Elli. However, when we arrived, it was dinner and he had the news on.

The first half of the meal, Elli kept looking at him and then looking pointedly at the TV, as if to say, "Excuse me, but haven't you forgotten something???"

Then we discovered that Big Boy was too busy watching the TV to eat. So we turned off the TV. Elli turned on the most sour face you've ever seen.

Elli has been walking really well at school! Today I got a note that she had walked 15 feet! I need to get going on a home modification here -- we need to rip out a bunch of carpet so she can practice here at home too. I'm so excited to read of her progress -- it is SO healthy for her bones and posture for her to bear weight like that.

Baby Socks

It's a rare thing to give a knitted gift and immediately get photos of the recipient modeling it! I actually got these socks done before little Jude outgrew them. This is a big accomplishment for me, small as these are.

Quieting My Soul

I haven't written about Little Boy much lately. It is hard to type through tears, and I get pretty emotional when I think about what lies ahead in less than 2 weeks. He had a sedated echo (ultrasound of his heart) Tuesday, as one of the preparatory steps for surgery. He did great, but it was another reminder that time is ticking inexorably onward, ever closer to the big day. He has open-heart surgery on October 29.

But lately I've decided that pretending everything is fine is deceptive. It also makes people believe that I am a strong person in myself. This is completely false -- anything anyone sees as strength in me comes from one source alone: my God.

So I have to be completely honest. I've been struggling. I'm weary and when I'm weary I find it so tempting to just mentally lay down and quit, albeit temporarily. Sometimes I do this unintentionally simply because it takes every ounce of me to lift up one foot and set it down in front of the other and I get to the point where I just can't go on (this is because I'm failing, not because God is failing). Other times I consciously start listening to the whispered doubts in my head and ride with them for awhile.

Here's the odd thing (or not so odd -- it really makes sense when you think about it) -- usually I start listening to my doubts after I've mentally quit for awhile.

I've been thinking about this pattern for the last several days. I've noticed a trend in my approach to difficult situations, particularly the ones that just go on and on and on.

• I start out really strong in the Lord. My faith in His goodness and strength is fueled by daily reading of the Bible and prayer.

• As the days begin to pound me down, I get tired. This is an all-encompassing tired: physical, emotional, mental, spiritual.

• In order to keep going, I have to make a key decision. I can choose to move forward in my own strength and make sleep the do-or-die ingredient in my day, sacrificing the activities that plug me in to God's strength (which I have to confess is my usual, almost automatic choice). Or I can acknowledge that I can't do this on my own and make sure that I feed my spirit with prayer and Bible reading, finding God's truths to lean on.

• If I choose to go it alone, I find myself in a vicious cycle. Because it turns out that I can't do it, no matter how much sleep I get, nor how much help I'm given, nor how much time for myself I take. I just get more and more weary because my mind and heart are waging war against the lies and doubts of the enemy and I'm not giving them any reinforcements.

• As my spiritual energy gets depleted, everything else follows and that's when I confront the temptation to quit.

• Once I recognize what is happening and why, I return to the only source of strength and rest -- God -- and begin fighting those lies and doubts with His truth. And God is so faithful, because no matter how many times I repeat this cycle, He is always there with the strength I need.
  

Don't get me wrong. The battles aren't easily won even when I do cast my anchor in God and take the time I need to focus on the truth He teaches about our circumstances and His work in our lives. This is a relentless task. Even more relentless than motherhood. At least as a parent, I can get a babysitter and go out for a few hours without the kids. I haven't found anything like that for my spiritual walk -- I can't leave my battles at the door because they are in my head!

And that is something I've been asking God about lately. Where is the rest? I'm tired, but I know that dropping everything and laying down is not the way to rest. So where is the rest I so desperately need in this grueling path He has placed me on?

And you know, He answered. (I shouldn't be surprised.) I have been reading the Psalms all year, and I came across two this week that answered my questions.

Psalm 131
1 O LORD, my heart is not lifted up;
my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
too great and too marvelous for me.
2 But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me.

3 O Israel, hope in the LORD
from this time forth and forevermore.

I never really grasped the meaning of the line "like a weaned child with its mother" until I had weaned a child. Before weaning, no matter how full a child might be, whenever a mother cuddles with them, they think of only nursing. They are restless and discontented. But once nursing is past, they can rest quietly in your arms without thinking only of food. What a beautiful picture. That peace, that tranquility and confidence in the love of God is what I need. And the Psalm ends with the source of that peace: hoping in the LORD, not in myself or doctors or other people or money or anything else.

Then I read Psalm 130.

Psalm 130
1 Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD!
2 O Lord, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive
to the voice of my pleas for mercy!
3 If you, O LORD, should mark iniquities,
O Lord, who could stand?
4 But with you there is forgiveness,
that you may be feared.
5 I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
and in his word I hope;
6 my soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen for the morning,
more than watchmen for the morning.
7 O Israel, hope in the LORD!
For with the LORD there is steadfast love,
and with him is plentiful redemption.
8 And he will redeem Israel
from all his iniquities.

This entire Psalm speaks to me and speaks for me. And it points out that my biggest need is for God's forgiveness for my sins, not for relief from difficult circumstances.


I added the italics -- these verses seem to be the climax of the Psalm, the high point. In Hebrew writing, repetition adds emphasis (it's like bold italics to us).


We don't stand in watch through the night, guarding our homes and cities anymore. So we could easily miss the significance of this. But imagine how a night watchman might feel, standing out in the pitch dark, every nerve tuned to see or hear any approaching threat hidden by the dark. The approach of morning would bring safety and rest, and would be something you would eagerly await. That is how we are to wait and hope in the Lord. And our rest and safety is coming, just as sure as the morning comes after a long night.

Then our pastor quoted Jesus' words in Matthew 11 this past Sunday.

28 "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Rest for the weary and burdened. If I'm not getting rest, I'm not looking to Him for it. Because here is a great promise straight from Jesus' mouth. And when I honestly examine my life, I can see a clear correlation between earnestly seeking God and His truth and having peace and rest in my soul. When I stop listening to God and preaching His truth to my heart and to all my questions, that peace vanishes like fog in the sunshine.

What Got Into That Boy?

I like to think I'm an experienced mother. I've had four babies, been changing diapers and feeding kids and cleaning messes and washing clothes for 7 1/2 years now. I've had more than the usual motherhood experiences too, since I have two kids with medical needs. Especially when it comes to diapers and their contents, I've seen it all.

At least, I thought I had. Until today.

I took the three youngest kids to a park today to play. The city had replaced the old playset, swingset, and wood mulch with concrete sidewalk, brand new playset, and recycled rubber mulch. Unfortunately, this park has only a portable toilet -- no running water of any sort.

While the older two kids played, I chose to bottle-feed Little boy. A dad was there with his kids and I didn't have my super-large-but-lightweight blanket to cover up with. At one point, he (Little Boy, not the dad) grunted and I heard some rumbling. Nothing to get my attention though.

I turned him around to burp him when he finished the bottle and felt a wet spot. On his back. I pressed it.

It. Squished.

He had somehow pooped up. It reached all the way up to between his shoulder blades. And he was wearing a onesie that would only come off by going over his head.

Now I've seen poop go up before. But I don't remember being away from home and having only wipes at my disposal for the clean-up. This was a hose-him-off-in-the-tub kind of mess. And the onesie issue was the biggest challenge of all. I really didn't want to smear poop over his head, face, hands, or all over me during the removal.

We headed to the van and I set out all my supplies like a surgeon prepping for a procedure.

Change of clothes. Check.
Clean diaper. Check.
Wipes, with several pulled out already. Check.
Spit-up cloth laid out as a changing pad. Check.
Plastic bag for the mess. Check.

I decided to try to reduce the amount of poop on his person before attempting onesie removal. I removed the diaper, dropped it on the parking lot, wiped as much off as I could, put a clean diaper on, and then sat him up. He's holding his head up well, but at 2 1/2 months old, is still quite floppy when sitting up. So he was draped over one arm while, with one hand, I tried to roll up the onesie, thereby containing the poop within its folds, and wipe. I rolled it up an inch at a time, wiping as I went. He got quite upset because he was suddenly cold. I struggled to hold onto him, as his body was slippery with poop and the moisture of the wipes. And yes, I had poop all over my hands.

I finally pulled the onesie off completely. Despite my best efforts, the mess was so great that I still ended up smearing poop up his back, into his hair, and onto both arms. I'm not sure how much came from the onesie and how much came from my hands. It took about 7 wipes to get us both clean enough to redress him.

I poured about a cup of hand sanitizer on my hands once I had all the disposable mess in a trash can and all the washable mess in a plastic bag. It seemed rather silly given what I had just dealt with, but without running water, it was the best I could do!

We headed straight home where I scrubbed and scrubbed... and then scrubbed the clothes and spit-up cloth to try to prevent the standard newborn-poop yellow stain. Little Boy will get a bath tonight.

He would have gotten one earlier, but he pulled the same stunt at his next feeding, just after I got the older two down for naps. I had to clean carpet this time! He shot poop up his diaper, onto my jeans, and onto the floor. So I'm waiting to bathe him until tonight in case he has any more tricks up his diaper,

What Is a Trustee, Anyway?

I had quite a roller-coaster week at work last week. Amazing, considering that I only work 10 hours per week! Thursday was the culmination of months of work to promote and select winners of our annual "Award for Excellence in Family-Centered Care." On Monday we finally got an email together announcing this year's nominees and winners and sent it to the hospital's CEO to distribute to the entire staff (over 8,000 employees at this point).

The email went out Tuesday. Wednesday we began to get messages back that our list of names contained errors of spelling and credentials. Being families, most of us thought, "Oh well. It was an honest mistake, and heaven knows our names and our kids' names are mispelled and mis-pronounced constantly at the hospital. No-one lost money or got sicker over this. No big deal."

But the email replies continued and it occurred to us that we'd made a pretty visible error that reflected on us and on the CEO, under whose name we had sent the message. We'd missed one doctor's "MD" and hadn't had time (given that we only work 10 hours per week) to research the other credentials (like RN, CNP, SLP, etc) for the other staff. And we'd misspelled a particularly cranky neurosurgeon's name (Apparently he's wonderful with families but can be mean to staff.).

So in the midst of the final push to get the award ceremony and reception together for Thursday night, we had this hanging over our heads. We wrote apologies, corrected programs, and did what we could to make it right. But this mistake really threw a damper on the day.

At the reception we met with the chairman of the board of trustees for our hospital. He had enthusiastically agreed to speak at the event and is a very sweet gentleman. He asked me and the other parent coordinator for the Family Advisory Council (FAC) to step aside with him right before the event started. There he informed us that on October 29, the board of trustees will be voting to adding both of us as "ex officio" members of the board, by virtue of our positions as co-chairs of the FAC! We would hold those seats on the board so long as we were co-chairs, so he said we need to stay at least 2 or 3 years!

To say we were floored is an understatement. It is quite possibly the craziest thing (in a positive way) that has ever happened to me!

According to Wikipedia, a group of trustees for a company could also be called a Board of Directors. We're really not sure what trustees do, but it would seem that in a way, Kay and I, in our little 10-hour-a-week jobs, will hold positions at the highest level in the hospital! It's actually quite awkward. Our new supervisor is a middle manager, yet her little part-time employees will be rubbing shoulders with the CEO, a pack of vice presidents, and the entire board of trustees. This move pretty much smashed the corporate ladder into bits where we are concerned. It's uncharted territory for us and is going to require kid gloves.

Despite the awkwardness, we're both excited. It's a huge honor and a huge opportunity to influence the hospital's direction at the highest level. We're supposed to get a packet with more details after the vote (assuming we actually get voted in).

Anniversary Getaway

This narrow lake reminded Scott and I from the scene in "The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring" in which the fellowship takes canoes from Lothlorien to the land of Gondor. They end up a breath-taking gorge that ends with the river flowing between two enormous statues of kings of Gondor. (And I do mean enormous -- the people are only as tall as the statues' toes.)


We spent two hours on the lake, soaking up the quiet and the lack of human changes to the area. Scott tried fishing here and there, but got nary a nibble. Neither of us cared -- it was a beautiful day and we were together where no-one else could find us. We floated, we paddled, we got blown around by the breeze. We had fun. And it was SO cheap -- 2 hours on the canoe cost a total of $6, life-jackets included. And they loaned us the fishing poles and bobbers! A more friendly, hospitable area I've never seen.

They don't allow swimming in this lake, nor can boats go any faster than idle speed. The entire lake sits inside the state park, so no-one has built along the coast. Apparently Lewis and Clark trekked through here on their way across the country, and we loved that we might be enjoying the area exactly the same way they did!

(Ok, maybe they didn't knit on socks while crossing the lake. But maybe they did!)

While the weather wasn't exactly fall-like, it was one of the few days this fall that have felt even remotely cool. I've always been a recycler, pro-efficiency, and pro-alternative fuels. (I keep telling Scott I'll be first in line for a fuel-cell minivan since you can't put a wheelchair or lift in anything but a van.) But I'll admit it -- I've had my doubts about global warming. Weather patterns are cyclical. You can't jump to conclusions after just a few years.

Lately, though, I'm becoming a believer, especially since they changed the label to "climate change." It's October 8 and it's 90 degrees here! Fall is my favorite season, and I'm totally missing it! I just know that we're going to skip fall altogether, going from 90 degrees to 40 degrees in a few days' time... and then everyone is going to be sick. I wonder -- is winter going to be as cold as the summer was hot?

The Halloween Cupcakes

We made the cupcakes today. Our church is having a carry-in dinner tomorrow after the morning service, so I knew I could spread the sugar around. Scott and I are still seeing who can lose 20 pounds first, so I don't need 2 dozen cupcakes sitting around our house! (I've lost 3 1/2 pounds so far. Scott is beating me at the moment - he has lost 7 pounds. Hey honey - want a cupcake?)

As you can see, the kids enjoyed this a lot. Elli especially loved being a part of the mixing and decorating. (She talked about it all day with her Dynavox! It was so cute.) It can be really challenging to include her in kitchen projects, but she really wants to be included and loves to help. In the past, I've tried putting my mixer on a chair to get it low enough for her to see into, but this was very unstable and messy. Today I realized that if I put her in her stander, she'd be able to see and reach things on our counter. This worked very well and helped her feel more a part of things than ever before.

I have to say, though, that cooking with three kids is utterly exhausting. We have carpet on one side of our counter, so I'm always aware of the potential for major messes when the kids are standing on chairs on both sides of the counter. And, to be completely honest, I have a really tough time just letting them be kids and make messes with food. God is definitely growing me in this area. I guess I have to work on enjoying the process of things, not just the product!

Mission: Impossible

Yesterday I had to return to the scene of the pirate sighting because I made a snap decision about a planner in my rush to escape. I decided to return the one I bought and get a refill (much cheaper) for the planner I already have.

While I was driving, I noticed that all of sudden Big Boy got very teary. He was quiet about it because I had gotten a call, but he was upset about something. When we arrived at the store, I asked him what was wrong.

Through his tears, he said, "That temperature thing... the Spider man one... I was holding it on the window and it fell out!"

He had dropped a Spiderman ruler onto one of the busiest roads in our town, not realizing that I had the rear windows of the van open.

I have known that losing something out those back windows was inevitable one day. Part of me was relieved that it was only a 6-inch plastic ruler. But it was part of a birthday present and he was very upset.

"Mom, please can you go back and get it?" You know those moments when your child's small tragedy grips your heart? This was one of those moments.

Images of walking the entire 5 miles looking for a black ruler on a black asphalt flitted in and immediately out of my head. Perhaps we could narrow the search field.

"Do you have any idea where we were when you lost it?" I asked. Big Boy is excellent with directions and spacial awareness. If we deviate from a known route, he notices and within seconds asks where we are going.

"It was by McDonalds."

That was do-able. 500 feet of search area was more manageable. I returned my planner and we headed to McDonalds to look for the ruler.

I wish this story had a happy ending. But despite walking along the road a couple times, I didn't find it. Fortunately, Big Boy was satisfied by my assurances that we can buy other rulers. He has reminded me several times since yesterday morning. (In fact, he planned out our entire afternoon yesterday: we were to go to a farm to pick pumpkins, then take his too-big birthday clothes back, and then find him a new ruler! Too bad I had a well-check scheduled for Little Boy and naps on the agenda for both Big Boy and Little Girl.)

But I did manage one impossible feat: I escaped the McDonalds parking lot without buying anything!

Dislocated Elbows, Pirates, and Stuffed Trout

It has been a day. I woke up at 6am and realized that I slept right through Little Boy's 3am feeding. He definitely woke up, because when I checked on him, he had kicked off his blanket and turned about 110 degrees around in the crib. That only happens when he's riled up.

Then, while I was getting Elli ready for school, Little Girl and Big Boy got into it in the girls' room. Suddenly I heard an all-too-common sound: Little Girlcrying. I was totally overwhelmed at this point with the demands of the morning -- they had been extremely needy and started early and I hurt my back getting Elli from her bed to her wheelchair. (I had the brilliant idea of helping her "walk" through the house. That is not so easy when she doesn't sustain bearing weight on her legs. Carrying a limp 37-pound girl by the armpits while desperately trying to get her to stand is quite a physical strain, especially when it's only been 2 months since you've had a baby.)

So I ignored Little Girl, brushing her off as being melodramatic as usual.

When I got back in the house from putting Elli on the bus, I knew something was wrong. Little Girl was carrying her left arm against her body and still crying. She pointed at her elbow, and wouldn't let me move it. I knew it was either broken or dislocated. Big Boy said he had pulled on her arm when they were playing.

I called the doctor and they got us right in. On the way, Little Girl did something that really hurt and burst into new tears. When I got her out of the van, she was using her arm fine. It's one of those laws of motherhood -- when you ignore something, it turns out to be a big deal; when you are proactive, it's normal and will run it's course or it corrects itself on the way to the doctor.

Turns out her elbow had been dislocated, and somehow she fixed it herself! I learned this is a very common injury and very easy to fix. No orthopedics or x-ray necessary. What a relief!

We all headed back home so I could actually eat breakfast. Then I made a menu plan and shopping list, grabbed snacks for everyone, and headed out for my big grocery shopping trip of the month.

Our first stop was the office supply store. With six people to keep track of, I need a calendar with larger squares and more room for notes. While we were looking, a guy entered the same aisle wearing biker clothes: bandana, ponytail, leather vest with some loud pattern on it, tattoos, the works.

Big Boy eyed him for a minute and then asked me, "Mom, is he a pirate?"

Stifling a giggle, I glanced at him, and then pondered how to answer that question. I knew the guy could hear our conversation and I was praying that he was laughing on the inside. I replied, "No, he rides a motorcycle." But Big Boy and Little Girl had decided that he was a pirate and spent the next 5 minutes til I could get them out of there running around saying things like "Run! He's going to get you!" and "Watch out for that pirate!"

At the grocery store, the kids were doing their usual masterful job finding such gems as super-sugary Shrek cereal, "spooky" toys (that's what they call ghosts), and chocolate-dipped Oreos. In a moment of weakness, I agreed to get pumpkin Funfetti cupcake mix and frosting. I figured it would be a great activity this week if we ever have a quiet day without last-minute doctors' appointments.

Then we arrived at the meat section. They had requested fish, so I had in mind something flash-frozen in the freezer. But we had to pass the fresh meat case on the way, and they spotted the rainbow trout. Eyes-in, fins and skin, still-looks-like-a-fish rainbow trout. In a strange turn of events, they began a campaign to try the fish with the buggy eyes. The guy behind the counter overheard us and told me how to fix it. So I got some. It was so nice to have them asking for something healthy for a change!

We had the trout tonight. It was kind of a bust. I stuffed it with a crab-meat and blue cheese concoction. This made it really filling for those of us who actually ate it. I learned that the kids don't like shell fish. They like simple, no-frills fish, which is actually easier and cheaper anyway. Too bad I have one and a half trout left over!

I wonder if Little  Boy will sleep through his 3am feeding tonight since he survived missing it last night?

Happy Birthday, Sam!

I'm a little behind (Sam's birthday was 2 weeks ago), but the whole crypto thing has thrown quite a wrench into life for the past 3 weeks. I'm still not convinced that we're past it, and we still haven't completed celebrating Sam's birthday!

Because I was so sick the day of the parties (I could barely drag myself to the doctor that morning, and then spent the rest of the day in bed), we canceled the usual big family shin-dig. Scott will tell you that it takes a LOT for me to miss or cancel something important, much less a child's birthday party.

I had the foresight this year to plan a little party for his friends at a park, since we had planned to have the whole family over the same day for dinner. Two parties at my house in one day with a newborn is far more than I can tackle right now, even when I'm feeling good!

Jacob, Sam, and Adam demonstrate how Spiderman
really does go with Star Wars when you're a little boy

So Scott was elected, and after some convincing, agreed to go ahead and host the birthday party in the park by himself. He did a great job -- as he said, it was chaotic but no-one got hurt. Sam had a ball with his friends, and one of the parents who came took a bunch of photos and burned me a CD.

Cool! Star Wars toys! (Are you seeing a trend here?)

It's hard to believe my little boy is 5 years old! He is really growing fast, and I'm so encouraged by some of the things I see in his life already. He cares about his sisters and brother so much and is so willing to help out when I need a hand. He is willing to try new things and loves to give gifts. I look forward to seeing what kind of man he grows into.

We couldn't find any balloons with the red Spiderman
on them, so we opted for a pinata instead.