He likes me! He really likes me!

For years I have wanted a turtle. A little turtle in a tank would be OK, I guess, but I want something bigger. I want one that would be a bit awkward to pick up. What is it about turtles that I like so much? Patience. Or at least the appearance of patience. I have no patience. A lot of folks at work tell me that I am a very patient person. They only say that because they can't hear all my mutely screamed expletives or the incessant sour complaining in my head. Those people don't know me.

I have never thought about it before, but maybe turtles aren't patient. Maybe humans have attributed patience to the turtle because it takes them so long to get where they are going when they are travelling on land. Maybe, as they slowly trek across the living room, turtles are silently screaming turtle expletives in their heads or sourly complaining about how long it takes to get from here to there...

I think turtles are beautiful...in a weird prehistoric sort of way. And quite honestly, the only thing I find more adorable than a tiny baby turtle is a tiny baby baby. So I was devastated a few months ago when I heard a commentary on my beloved NPR about turtles being natural carriers of Salmonella. I had tuned in when the program was talking about it being illegal to sell turtles smaller than 4 inches in the United States. This didn't bother me as I was looking forward to welcoming a larger turtle in my home someday. Then the commentator dropped the bomb: People who are at higher risks for infections should not keep turtles as pets. This would include children under 5, the elderly, women who are or who might become pregnant, people with diabetes or other such conditions. Well balls. Nearly every person in my house falls under one of these categories.

John and I celebrated our 9th anniversary this week. We were -so- fancy. We dressed up. We ate at a nice place (whose name I don't remember) where we had never eaten before. We went to see A Christmas Story The Musical at The Rep. We had our picture taken with Santa in the lobby to commemorate our anniversary. Santa was actually done taking pictures for the night, but he graciously posed with us when he heard it was our anniversary. Thank you, Santa! After the show we stopped for some dessert at a place in Brookside where we had never been to before.

Aixois (pronounced x-wah) is a lovely little French bistro and coffee bar. The owner/chef is from the south of France and Aixois literally means "a person from Aix-en-Provence". We ordered a sampling of desserts; creme broulee, bittersweet chocolate mousse, some custard thing whose name I can't remember but translates to "an island" because yummy stuff is floating on top of other yummy stuff. I don't recall what else was on that plate. I only remember that I nearly went into a "That's sooo yummy" coma. (John and I will be going back for what was referred to as "some serious down home and non-snooty French cooking.") You can check them out at aixois.com.

We were settling down for the night when John reminded me that in all our running around, we hadn't exchanged our presents. He handed me a beautiful red bag. I reached inside and found something about the size of my fist and made of wood. I began to feel around the object and when I was sure I pulled it out of the bag excitedly. "You got me a turtle!" I looked at it and saw a big red tag tied around it's neck. "Hi, I'm not quite full grown yet but I will be soon, Maurice."

My wonderful husband hadn't just picked out any old wooden turtle from a hobby shop. He went out, bought a block of wood and was hand carving a turtle for me. For more than a month John has been using his breaks at work to transform this wooden block into a little dream of mine. He even tried to feed Maurice a left over turkey sandwich to see if he would grow a little quicker. He likes me! He really likes me!

Peace, love and blessings,
amy

"Mama, he's dirty."

When I was little I had to have my stomach pumped on what seemed a regular basis. The first time it happened I was two and Mom had been cleaning the cabinets in the kitchen. She walked across the room to find me sitting on the floor with an open blister pack of Contact Cold Caps. I had split apart multiple capsules and hundreds of tiny time release pellets were all over the floor. There was no telling how many capsules or pellets I had consumed. At the hospital the nurses had to strap me down to what was called a papoose board in order to keep me still enough for a tube to go up my nose and down my throat for the stomach pumping process.

The next time Mama took me to the hospital for a good stomach emptying session was after she realized I had most likely ingested an entire bottle of Cotillion, a cologne by Avon. Mom wasn't sure how much cologne I drank but the bottle was empty and I smelled lovely. Off to the hospital we went. This time I was given dose upon dose of Ipecac with no results. An orderly was told to stay in the room with us to help Ma push fluids into me until the Ipecac made me cack. At some point the orderly reached in front of me for something and I looked to Ma saying "Mama, he's dirty!" Now this young man smiled and said something along the lines of "It's ok. She's a baby." Mama however was mortified and spent days having visions of being sued by the NAACP.

Some months later I was home watching cartoons with my Daddy. Mom came home and was not happy to discover that although I was behaving, I had consumed an entire bottle of Flintstone's vitamins. Mom says she called Poison Control this time. After talking to the nurse, Ma decided there was no need to take me to the hospital for the Ipecac treatment as she had already picked up a few bottles for the medicine cabinet after our last hospital adventure.

The last epsiode Ma remembers is the time she was pregnant with Melanie (making me 4 years old) and Daddy was out of town. Mom came around the corner to discover an empty bottle of thyroid pills in my happy little hands. Mom grabbed me, the empty bottle, the Ipecac and the phone. She called Poison Control who told her to skip the Ipecac and get me to the hospital immediately. Off we went. After having the tube up the nose treatment, the ER staff sent me up to ICU for the night. Mama says I was wound up like an 8 day clock, jumping up and down in bed all night long, ripping off the monitor leads at every turn - causing the nurses to come running every time this happened. She tells me that I didn't sleep for two days.

Tuesday November 24, 2009
Devlyn wears night time pull ups because more often than not she still wets the bed at night. I understand she can't control her bladder in her sleep. And, it's not like she goes to bed thinking "What can I do to upset everyone tonight? Oh! I know! I'll wet the bed!" I don't have a problem with her nocturnal bladder control. Thank God for night time panties! What I do have a problem with is how she does or doesn't dispose of her 'used' panties. The rule is that her night time panties go in the bathroom trash can. That child puts those things anywhere EXCEPT the bathroom trash can. I find them shoved under her bed, mingled in with the girls' dirty laundry, lying on the bedroom floor, the bathroom floor even the hallway floor a time or two. She has even put her night time panties in the tub at Devon's apartment.

John and I discussed this with the counselor who recommended that we get Devlyn her very own big girl diaper pail. On Tuesday we found a small trash can with a pop up lid and brought it home for Devlyn. I explained that it was hers and that we needed her to put her night time panties in that trash can. She was very excited and proud about having her very own trash can. We demonstrated how to open and securely close the lid. Then she carried it upstairs to her bedroom for me. As we were swapping out the new trash can for the old one, I found a handful of empty Jr. Tylenol blister packs...

Sunday November 22, 2009
Shortly before dinner, someone found three empty Jr. Tylenol blister packs in Devlyn's bed. She could have gotten the packs from the bathroom cabinet, but she could not have opened them. No one fessed up to opening the packs.

Tuesday November 24, 2009
There I was in the girls' room looking through the trash and counting these opened blister packs - 4, 5, 6...10, 11, 12...22, 23, 24...30, 31, 32! I WAS FREAKING OUT! Project calm. Project calm. I called out "Abby! Come here please." I showed her my hands full of opened empty blister packs. "When did this happen?" I asked her. "I don't remember. Maybe Saturday or Sunday?" she tells me. Crap, what day is it? Tuesday. It's Tuesday. I let out a sigh of relief that no one was sick or dead. I calmly asked "Who did this?" She says "Me, Connie, Jack & Devlyn." My mind was rushing to do the math. Jesus, I hate math. OK - 4 kids. 32 pills. That means 32 divided by 4...uh...uh...uh...4, 8, 12, 16, 20, 24, 28, 32...that means uh...uh...uh... I count by 4s on my fingers...8 tablets per kid - IF they split them up evenly. Abby seems to think she was not as responsible for the problem because Devlyn was the one who would run down to the bathroom, climb up on the sink and get down another page of pills each time they ran out of "candy".

I will never know who ate how many, but thank God, the kids are ok. We all had a big talk about how medecine is not candy and that the kids could have gotten very sick. Mom, Devon and I went to the store and picked up 2 large tackle boxes and padlocks. ALL meds have been put into the lock boxes which have been put up and away. The keys have been put out of sight in secure locations. What next?

Happy Holidays.
Amy & the gang.

The Not-So-Little-House in Overland Park

We are coming up on a fun filled week here in Overland Park; Jess will be home on Tuesday. The 'rents, Devon and Connie are off to see A Christmas Story at The Rep that night. John and I celebrate our 9th anniversary on Wednesday and will see the show that evening. Thanksgiving will be different and special in its own way this year. We always celebrate with mom's family, which is huge. This year it will just be the Abels clan at our house. I have already decreed that we will put up the tree that night. I'm very excited about it! Then Friday is Mama's birthday. Happy Birthday, Mama!

All the kids came out to see the Little House on the Prairie last night and they had a great time. Connie is still asking when she will get a turn to come to the theatre with me - though it hasn't been in the form of badgering, whining or tantruming this week. She doesn't want to come with everyone else, she wants it to be just the two of us and I understand that. She really wants to have her turn today, but I just can't wrangle her and a double header Saturday. (This is the beginning of our Christmas show work week with 12 shows a week - up from 10 - meaning double headers on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Due to how the holidays fall this year, we even have two double header Sundays. I really shouldn't complain about that - folks everywhere do double headers on Sundays, but I am SPOILED ROTTEN at the Coterie.) Anyway, I will talk to Connie about coming with me tomorrow.

Mom has a counselling program through work that we have been taking advantage of in the last few months. The woman we are talking to has recommended we try using 1-2-3 Magic with the kids. It is a system that helps adults identify Stop behavior (badgering, whining, tantruming etc.) and Start behavior (cleaning, homework, going to bed etc.) and how to get kids to stop or start those behaviors.

Jack went to a counseling appointment with me this past week and he was so well behaved that I took him to his beloved K-Mart for a new Thomas train. We were walking down the aisle when...well, I'll just give you the instant replay:

Jack: Look, Mommy. It's a damn CRACKER.
Mommy: Excuse me?
Jack: It's a damn cracker.
Mommy: What did you say?
Jack: I said "It's a damn cracker!"
Mommy: Where?
Jack: Right vere. (He really could have said "DUH")
Mommy: OH - you mean the nut cracker? (As in the wooden Christmas-soldier-nut-cracker-guy.)
Jack: Oh - vat's right! It's not a DAMN CRACKER!
(Meanwhile, I am looking around to see if anyone is judging me and what might be going on in my home.)

Mom & I have picked up a few copies of the 1-2-3 Magic book that the counselor recommended. Beth has offered to implement the system at her house. I have just finished reading the first half of the book, which discusses handling Stop behavior. There are 2 rules for parents in dealing with Stop behavior - 1. NO TALKING and 2. NO EMOTION. If you count one of the kids for running in the house you simply say "That's 1" and you do not say anything else unless you know they have no idea why you counted them - then you could say "For running" and that's it. Once they get to a count of 3, they get a time out with mom or dad saying "That's 3, time out" and NOTHING else. If they don't go to their room or the time out spot, you carry them but say nothing. And when time out is over - you tell them they are done and you do not discuss why they were sent to time out unless it was truly warrants a discussion.

The whole thing is rather fascinating. It puts the pressure on adults to let the kids figure out why they are in trouble and decide to shape up instead of parents going blue in the face (or red from frustration and anger) explaining all the reasons behavior is inappropriate. There is more to it all, but this is a blog and I don't want y'all to glaze over. Anyway, I started counting the kids this week and I swear my life has been near bliss with peace in my heart and head. Once I decided to SHUT THE HELL UP and let the kids figure out what they are doing wrong instead of going on and on and...

Well, if these kids can fill John's big shoes, maybe I can be hush and help usher some peace, quiet and more effective discipline into our Not-So-Little House in Overland Park.



Love and blessings,
Owenland Park

Fork, anyone?

Wy is learning to dress himself. He really doesn't like to do it though. I tell him to put on his pants and he whines "I can't do iiiit" until we have him in his pants. I tell him to put on his shirt and he whines "I can't do iiiit" until he has his shirt on. The other morning he just stopped putting on his shirt when he reached this point. He laughed so much that he was slap happy about looking like a monkey. Every time I would call him "My little Monkey" he would dissolve into another fit of giggles. The next morning, he wanted to put his shirt on like this again.

The other day Wy sat watching the cats. He watched and watched them playing and after they took off for other parts of the house he began to play like them. He managed to tip over this hamper, crawl inside and tip it right side up again. I heard Wy giggling for the longest time so I finally came over for a picture.

My friend Shannon had a birthday this week. Happy Birthday, Shannon! Here is Jack writing his card to his Aunt Shan. John wrote out "I love you" on the card and Jack wrote it out below John's example. I stood there amazed. It just shows me how much the kids' homework books are helping.

Devon had her Rite of Acceptance last Sunday. (She is going through RCIA to be Confirmed.) I'm a schmo - I forgot to bring my camera for a few pictures. It wouldn't have done me any good though because I'm her sponsor and so I was up in the front of Church with her. My brother-in-law has his Rite of Acceptance today. (He is going through the process of becoming Catholic as an adult.) Congratulations to both of them!

Now this one is special to me. The thin little tree in the side of the picture here was a Mother's Day gift to me from John and the boys. John planted it in the front yard for me this fall. And what are he and Jack planting? They are planting the iris bulbs that we dug out of Gran's yard last year. I am going to be so happy when those irises come in.

Our week was far from fun and games though. As you saw in the last post - we have flaring tempers and streaks of stubbornness in each of us. Less than 24 hours after Jack nearly dropped the 'hate' bomb on me, he dropped it on Poppie. I believe the sequence of events went as follows: Beth brought the kids home and shortly after she left Jack hit Wy with a paint brush. Poppie and Jack had words and Jack was sent to time out. En route to the naughty step Jack dropped the bomb. I got home while Jack was in time out and asked why Jack was in trouble. Daddy told me about the paint brush and said "he was just being naughty." After time out, Jack and I talked about hitting and how it hurts people. He said "I promise not to hit anymore and I promise to not say 'I hate you' to Poppie again." I nearly cried. I just pointed at Daddy and Jack went over to apologize. It turns out that he and Jack had already made up and Dad wasn't going to drag out the incident so Jack and I had a short talk and I let it drop.

The following morning I was getting ready for work and the kids were eating breakfast when I heard shrieking and crying. Connie and Wy were fighting over a fork. I settled the dispute and 60 seconds later Connie came flying up the stairs crying that Jack had just poked her in the eye with a fork. Thank God, Connie was fine. Jack however had just stepped in it. I was so upset I couldn't even talk to him. He had to follow me from room to room and sit within 5 feet of me. I finally asked him what he thought his punishment should be and he said "Time out." I told him "A fork in the eye is serious business and time out doesn't cut it, Mr." I talked about taking away his trains or taking everyone out for pizza and he could have a salad. He cried and cried. By the time we got into the car to leave for Beth's house Wy had had enough. He sat there in his car seat and demanded that I "Paw-gize to my brudder! You don't be cross wiff my brudder, Mommy!" I was proud of Wy for sticking up for his brudder - I mean you gotta give the little guy props for defending Jack when he was in a tight spot - but I said I was not going to apologize to anyone when JACK was the one who stuck a FORK in Connie's EYE!

And Friday night, Connie and I had a meltdown in the bathroom. I was taking Jack to the show and she jumped all over my case about when was it going to be her turn and she never gets a turn and on and on. I started crying and yelling that I try to do special things with each of them but that as soon as I settle my attention on one of them, they all swarm around us and no one gets the special attention. I reminded her that she and Abby were in a Coterie class and the other kids weren't. I reminded her that they each got to go see U:BUG:ME and be in the booth with me but that it HAD to be 1 kid at a time. I told her it's hard for me too and not just her. I told her I want to do special things with my kids without making her and her sisters feel left out or feel like I don't love them - because I do love them. And of course as I was having this meltdown - everyone came in the bathroom. Connie was crying. I was crying and the rest of the kids were all just standing there. I felt like an ass because she is 6 and she can't understand and she shouldn't be expected to understand and I just unloaded on her. But I just felt so defeated in that moment. Connie said she is going to try to wait her turn and to let the other kids have their turn too. We ended this episode with hugs and I love you's and promises of everyone getting to go to the show with me.

I talked to John about what happened and he is going to do special things with each of the kids as individuals so all the pressure isn't on me and getting to go to my shows. I'll let you know how it goes this week. In the mean time, I really have to get ready for work.

Love,
Amy & the gang.

p.s. - it's raining today!!!

I'm not ready for this.

Tuesday 7 pm:
Abby, Connie and Jack had pulled out a puzzle and were hard at work. (I had helped them put together the outer border of the puzzle, but once that was done, they cranked it out.) Wyatt was on the floor tearing pages out of a super-sized coloring book and Devlyn had been sent to her room (I don't remember why now) where she proceeded to scream at the top of her lungs "Mommy!" and "I will behave next time! I will!" until I couldn't take it any more. I told her repeatedly that she had to calm down. Once she managed to be calm for 5 minutes, I went in and told her I was proud of her for staying calm and that if she cold continue to be calm then her mom would come up and read when it was time for Abby & Connie to go to bed too. I didn't hear another peep out of that girl until her sisters came upstairs for bed.

Before everyone headed up to bed though, we had to clean up our big ole mess. I asked Abby to go do her eye exercises with her mother. I asked Jack & Connie to put away the various games they had pulled out and I told Wy to pick up his coloring book mess. Abby & Connie jumped right up and got to business. Jack and Wy ignored me. Three times those boys ignored me. I told Jack he could go to his room since he wasn't going to help out. He stood still. I told him again that he needed to go to his room. He just looked at me in defiance. I looked at him and said "Mr. you go to your room right now. Move!" I set him on the stairs, he turned, looked at me and yelled "I HATE (pause)"

OK - I think this was the longest pause of my life. That boy looked me in the eye and I knew right then it was coming. I thought "No, no, no, no. He's only 4. I'm NOT ready for this. What am I going to say?" and then he said "moving."

What? What did he say? I had to process for a moment - "I HATE...moving." Had he been about to say he hated me? Had he changed his mind? Had he seen the panic in my eyes? Had he smelled the fear? I don't know, but I can deal with "I HATE...moving."

He sat in time out for being so sassy. Then I asked him what he had been thinking about while he sat there. "Um. I was finking when I could go to a movie wiff you." "Oh? I was thinking you might apologize for being so sassy." Jack apologized and we made friends again.

As he slipped upstairs to put on his jammies, my mom said "You know what to say when he finally says that, right? You say 'Well I love you." I remember Mom saying that to us girls when we were younger. Each time we hurled that hateful comment her way she responded with an "I love you" until we stopped.

Then there was Devon. "I love you" didn't work on Devon. She just kept on and kept on hurling "I hate you!" at Mom until one day Mom looked back at her and said "Oh yeah? Well I'm not too fond of you right now either." And Devon never said it to Mama again.

I gotta get outta here

John's DOD was in town the other week. (DOD stands for Dear Old Dad.) He evaluates physical structures and determines the cause of damage (for insurance companies, court cases etc.)He and John arranged to meet for dinner with the boys. (Unfortunately, I was in rehearsal.) Well the fellas met for pizza and had a great time. John says the boys were a bit confused that we didn't take a long trip to get to see their Papa.

Jack is nearly beside himself in his desire to go to work with me. He doesn't understand I can't take him to rehearsals. He keeps asking me how many days till he can go to my work. We are finally in performances though, so I will be able to take him on Saturdays again. Here comes the unsolicited plug people; come see Little House this year. It is truly a show to warm your heart and share with the people you love.

John got in his truck Monday morning to take the girls to school and within seconds discovered he didn't have breaks. (The boys call John's truck "Mavis" because Mavis is a black engine and John's truck is black) Anyway, John spent a good part of the day at home repairing something. He tried to explain it, but I glazed over. Anyway, it's fixed.

Jack has been attending Sunday school with Abby & Connie for a few months now. The gentleman who leads the kids is Mr. Curtis. Last Sunday Mr. Curtis told my folks that when it was time for the kids to say the Creed, Jack jumped right up and led the kids through it. Now, for those of you who don't know, the Creed is a pretty long recitation. I don't know how much Jack knew, but it was enough to impress Mr. Curtis. I try to keep the kids involved during mass. I think it helps them keep up their behavior. I say the responses and prayers to the littler kids and encourage them to say it with me. I let them have snacks, but they have to put them down during the Gospel and Communion. Jack knows that when he turns 5, he won't be able to take snacks to Church anymore. (I picked this trick up from my sister, Melanie.) Jack has already started the countdown. He has asked me to show him how many Sunday's he has left before he has to give up his Church snacks.

Wy has taken to responding to nearly every comment made to him with "in a minute."
He has taken to calling Libby "My special cat."

John takes the kids to Beth's house on Thursdays and Fridays. This week he decided to swing though the car wash on the way out. He wasn't sure how the kids would handle the car wash, so he started to holler "AAAHHH!!!" in a way that said he was having fun. So John yelled, then Devlyn yelled, then Jack yelled, then Wyatt whispered "I gotta get outta here."

Mom and I have started a little tradition of a themed Christmas tree. This year Mama thought it would be nice to decorate a tree in honor of my sweetie. So we are doing a cowboy tree. It can be pretty expensive going out each year to buy ornaments that fit a new theme, so we have tried to use lots of things that can carry over from year to year - simple garlands, simple but pretty colors etc. Instead of purchasing ornaments this year, we have started making them. John has tons of cookie cutters that rarely get put to use. I thought we might combine cookie cutters and the holidays when I came across a cinnamon salt dough recipe on the internet. Friday night the kids and I rolled out a cinnamon salt dough and cut out about two dozen ornaments. I thought it would be loads of fun, maybe it was for the kids, but it was fairly stressful for the grown-ups. I was glad when it was over. The finished product isn't nearly as nice as I thought it would be. These things all look deformed in some fashion. I didn't think they would be pieces of art, I just didn't think they would be so awfully awful. John and I are thinking of painting them. And, if they are still awful, then oh well. The kids will still love them.

And here is a little bit from my Mama;

Jack puzzled me for a minute Saturday. He kept asking for something, but I could not figure out what he wanted. First it sounded like Rushland, and Rush Limbaugh popped in my head. I knew the darling boy could NOT be asking for such a vile thing, so I listened again to what sounded like Brushling, Rushland, Rushlan - then it finally hit me - he wanted the Russian nesting dolls! I have two sets - one is a snowman set that was Mama's, the other is one I bought at a Russian shop at Christmas on the Cove in Pacifica, CA a couple years ago. So I got them down and he and Abby sat and played with the Rushland dolls for an hour or so.

Tonight we did battle with Abby and Connie over folding clothes. They each had one basket they were supposed to fold. I finally said, "The first one done gets to stay up 15 minute past bedtime tonight." Well, they got busy, then Amy popped in from the kitchen and added, "And TWO pieces of chocolate!" Well, Connie started crying (cause it's what she does) that Abby would get done first. Abby whispered to her sister, Connie stopped crying, and they both got busy. Then they shouted that they were both done at the same time! (Abby helped Connie so they would tie) I said they both got the 15 minutes AND the chocolate.

OK - I know I don't have any photos - I will do better next week.
Love and blessings,
Amy & the gang.

Give one to me!

Buster is dead. Do you remember Buster? The Beta fish? Well, he's dead. And I think I killed him. I changed his water and thought I had done a good job of carefully mixing the old water with the new distilled water...but I killed him. Fortunately, no one has noticed except the adults...and Abby. She asked about Buster the other day and I confessed that he was dead, (I didn't tell her that I killed him) but I ask her not to tell any of the other kids. Is that like lying to them? I don't know. All I know is mom is the one who held the funeral services for Buster. Alone. In the bathroom.

Devon and I were headed home one day last week and I was talking to the kids about how beautiful the trees were. Someone made a comment about so many of the trees not having colors. I thought for a second and said off-handedly that "the trees look naked, don't they?" Well, the kids went WILD. Now everywhere we go they are squealing about naked trees here, naked trees there, naked tree on my side, naked tree on that side. They work themselves up into hysterical high pitched fits of giggles about these naked trees. When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?

Jack is excited to see Little House on the Prairie. He asks me all kinds of questions about the show. We have a large turntable in the set (and we all know how Jack loves Thomas' turntable) so after my dinner break today John and I took the kids back to the theatre for a ride on the turntable. Holy Moses, those kids had a blast! Jack and Devlyn told me I was too heavy for them to turn the table and I had to get off...Nothing like a bit of honesty eh? Jack tells me all sorts of information about "Daddy's show is A Christmas Story. It is about a little boy who wants a toy for Christmas." He is pretty keen to see that show as well.


Connie had a terrible stye in her eye this week. We wound up taking her to the Doctor's office for it Saturday morning and that leads me to my story of the week...
We had tech for Little House on Friday. After tech I stayed and did some prep work on one of our upcoming shows. When I was leaving I ran into the crowd that had just wrapped up their 3 show day for Maul of the Dead (which was fantastic, by the way!) I stopped in at the bar to chat with the actors and finally headed home at 1:15 or so. I had hoped to crawl into bed, but Jess was up and we talked for a while. I finally staggered to bed bleary eyed and bone weary around 2:00. The boys were all in my bed and I didn't want to wake anyone so I just crawled in bed with them. Wy proceeded to kick me for about half an hour so I finally transferred Wy & Jack to their own beds. Well, Wy woke up and had a fit about not being in my bed. I had to soothe him till he went back to sleep. I managed to lay down again around 2:45ish and right around 3:30 Jack fell out of bed - hard. I sat and rocked him for I don't know how long. He was terribly upset. I was so cross-eyed tired that I finally decided to lay down with Jack and Wy had a fit about my being in Jack's bed, so we invited him on over - the 3 of us squashed ourselves into Jack's twin bed and again attempted to sleep. It was probably 4:30 when Jack woke up crying that he wanted to be in my bed. So I sent him on in to sleep with his daddy.

He proceeded to cry for "Mommy" in my room until I couldn't take it any longer and drug myself into bed with John and Jack. I thought he would be ok once I cuddled him up, but he couldn't settle down. Every time I started to drift off he started fussing and crying again. Sometime around 5:30 he became inconsolable. John and I gave him some ibuprofen and John took him downstairs so I could try to get some sleep. The next thing I know, Mom knocked on my door (it was 6:30 now I think)and told me Jack had thrown up. Now I'm really worried because throwing up after a head injury is not good. And so we got dressed and headed out for Jack's Doctor's office. Since Connie's Doctor is right next door and she needed to see him too, I had Mom and Connie come along.

(Here's my side note - I call this pattern of repeated waking with minimal spurts of sleep between wakings "sleepus interruptus" and I think it is much much worse than no sleep at all.)

Jack was certainly not his active little self while we were at the Doctor's office and so I was worried. Dr. Sorapolus was concerned because of his having thrown up along with his listlessness. She told me if it was a weekday, she would just have us do a CT, but the lab was closed - sooo, we would get to spend the morning at Children's Mercy. Of course when we left the Dr's office Jack underwent a drastic change in disposition and was as chipper and playful as he could be. I decided we would still go to Children's Mercy as I wanted to be safe rather than sorry. You know how it goes at the hospital, see someone for 3 minutes and wait 45 minutes...Well, after examining Jack thoroughly, consulting with Dr. Sorapolus and with me, we dicided Jack was fine and didn't need a CT. Thank the Lord. We were home in time for me to fix lunch and I was never so grateful for a nap in my life.

Then it was up, fix dinner, yell at everyone to get to the table, to eat dinner, to change into their costumes, to let adults open the door for Trick or Treaters and for everything else under the sun as we tried to get 5 kids and 3 adults ready to go trick or treating. Abby went as a ghoul. Connie and Devlyn went as little fairies. (Mom made their wands out of big fat lollipops, straws and curly ribbons. Real cute.) I'll give you one guess about who the boys dressed up as. I couldn't believe there was no fighting over both of them being Thomas. Anyway, all the kids had a great time as we went through the neighborhood.

I remember how fun it was to go out Trick or Treating. I totally do not remember being yelled at by adults to look both ways when crossing the street. I don't remember being reprimanded to be nice or say "Thank you." Or not to crowd other kids off of the that neighbor's front step. And for as much as John, Devon and I yammered at the kids - I don't think they heard any of it. Even if they did hear it, they didn't care, they werre simply too excited to be Trick or Treating! We were making our way to the last house of the evening and Jack was not happy about going home. He held up his basket and said "My pumpkin is NOT full." And when Wy finally made it up to the last porch, I said "Wy, what do you say?" He held up his hand as high as he could and demanded "Give one to me!" I was mortified.

Jess came home for the weekend. She spent some time with the family Saturday and then hung out with her girlfriend, Caroline Halloween evening. John, Devon and I picked up the girls and attended the 11:00 p.m. closing night performance of Maul of the Dead. I thought the show was FANTASTIC and I was so excited that the girls got to see it. On the way home I kept peppering them with questions about what they liked or didn't like. They just said "It was really good." (like oh, that was nice) and went right back to texting and giggling. I felt like I had just given someone this super great birthday present and they responded with Oh, it's blue. Well, that's a teenager for you. Here's a shot of John and I - Zorro and a Devil Enchantress? I don't know - I hated the crown that came with the Medussa dress, so I put on horns. I wish I had snapped a shot of Devon in her outfit - but it was late and we were heading out the door. She looked geat. Maybe I can convince her to put it on again for a photo?

OK peeps, I need more sleep. Love and blessings,
from me and my gang.