Purely Random Thoughts

The night before last, I dug out my great-grandmother’s recipe for Scrabble, basically a chex mix. I have such fond memories involving this chex mix and Grammie; every Christmas she’d have her roaster going and the smells of Scrabble would fill the air. Oh, it’s mouth-watering! And last night, those same smells filled my home and instantly I was transported to the days of watching Grammie mix the Scrabble; an apron tied around her waist and a rap across the knuckles for anyone who tried to sneak a taste. *sigh* I miss Grammie.

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Lately, I have joked with Jon that I’m ready for another baby, mainly because Hudson just doesn’t count as a baby. Seriously, I have never seen a baby develop as fast as I have with our little guy. He now no longer takes breast milk in a bottle; it must be in a sippy cup. Are you kidding me?! A sippy cup at 9 months of age? Oh man, I have a feeling this little guy is going to keep us on our toes.

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Devyn received a Cabbage Patch doll from my sister, Christine, for her birthday. First of all, it is so perfect that Christine be the one to buy my daughter her first Cabbage Patch doll. There is a photo of Christine and I, we’re probably about 7 and 5 years old, each with a wide smile holding our Cabbage Patch dolls that we just received for Christmas. It’s a great picture! And I got a little teary as Devyn opened her first Cabbage Patch doll too. The hysterical thing though, is that Devyn has named her baby, Donna. I have no idea how she came up with that name, no clue where it came from. But she is passionate about Donna and Donna must go everywhere with us. I even caught Devyn giving Donna a bath in the bathroom sink. Donna promptly went into the dryer, much to Devyn's dismay. I wonder if there’s a grand-daughter named Donna in my future.

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I am loving my new work schedule. It is so absolutely wonderful to take our time in the morning, to spend time with the kids cuddling on the couch, painting, reading, eat breakfast at a slow pace, even taking time for a quick nap with Hudson. It is wonderful! Yesterday morning I woke up at 5:00am and I just couldn’t go back to sleep. So I left the kids with Jon, ran to Walmart really quick, and got all of our baking and chex mix ingredients in record time. It was great! And then I was able to get back home and share the morning with Devyn and Hudson. I am so thankful for part-time work!

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And I really, really hesitate to share this moment with you all. Some of you might shake your head and never read my blog again; I hope it doesn’t come to that but this is me, a real live woman just sharing her life.

Jon’s mom was recently visiting over the Thanksgiving weekend and she and Devyn disappeared downstairs to play with Devyn’s toys. Devyn usually gets out the teapot and cups and will share tea with whoever is playing with her. This time, however, tea just wasn’t going to cut it and instead decided to share “beer” with her grandmother. My mother-in-law, sure she had misunderstood, had Devyn clarify what she had just said. Devyn again invited Nana to partake in “beer”. So, let me get this straight… my daughter cannot say “movie” but can quite clearly say “beer”? Oh my word. How do you explain that one to your pastor?!

Great Appointment

Is it weird that I am over-the-moon with excitement about our appointment this morning?! Our appointment went far better than I could have possibly imagined and I am so excited to see where God takes us on this journey with Devyn.

First and foremost, we met our therapist. Her name is Deb; she is a Christian and is really going to give Devyn just the push she needs. She also happens to know Jon's extended family and we have mutual friends in common. How awesome is that? That is most definitely a "God-thing".

Secondly... the good news is that Devyn is a very bright, very smart child. She comprehends quickly and understands cognitively. However, there is a speech delay and that is what we'll be focusing on in our speech therapy sessions. We'll be going every other week until Miss Deb (our therapist) feels that Devyn is where she should be.

I learned more about my daughter in our 2-hour evaluation than I thought was possible. Seriously. How is it that a perfect stranger (albeit a therapist, who is obviously trained to notice these things) can tell me things I didn't know about my own daughter?! When asked if Devyn was a strong-willed child, I shook my head no, I went on to describe how Devyn is sweet, sensitive, and shy. Within a half-hour, Miss Deb told me that no, in fact I have a VERY strong-willed child. (Go figure!) She pointed out that Devyn is able, capable, and can say the very words that we've been trying to get her to say, Devyn just chooses NOT to say them. And with that, Miss Deb also pointed out some behaviors that are manipulative in nature. Miss Deb said that her stubbornness and strong-will are very subtle, but very apparent, and will serve her well in the future.

And lastly, Mom and I learned how we may have helped contribute to some of Devyn's speech delay. As the oldest grandchild on both sides of the family, it's pretty safe to say that Devyn is a bit spoiled. And by not making her use words, letting her gesture and nod for what she wants, has hindered her more than helped. So, these sessions will not only be for Devyn, they're also going to be "re-training" us as well.

Our homework until the next appointment:

• Increase the amount of choice-making; either by pointing or saying the choice. If she points, then just say the words for her – she doesn’t have to repeat, but if she does, great!
• Try to avoid “asking” too many questions – just label for her when you are playing or reading a book.
• When she does ask you “what’s this?” – just tell her.
• Don’t respond to “huh?” – I would have her ask “what’s that?” or “look Mom”.
• Go ahead and expect the words that you know she knows – if she battles, let her know you will wait for her to communicate.

All in all, it was a very successful appointment. I am eager to learn, I am excited to see how Devyn's vocabulary grows, and I'm elated that God brought Miss Deb into our family. I think it’s going to be a very beneficial relationship for all of us. Thanks for all the prayers and well-wishes; they have helped more than you know!

Let Me Hold You Longer

"Precious simple moments and
bright flashes from your past--
Would I have held on longer if
I'd known they were your last?"
~Karen Kingsbury, Let Me Hold You Longer

I often read the book Let Me Hold You Longer to Devyn at bedtime. I love it; simply for the fact that its a wonderful reminder to cherish these moments with my babies. I think as parents we become so focused on their firsts... their first smile, their first laugh, their first step, the first milestones that we look forward to so much. But we rarely stop and hold on to the now, not knowing if this is going to be the last time that you carry them on your hip. Personally, with each milestone that my children reach, it is with both excitement and sadness as I realize I'll never get that "first" back. And it's with that same bittersweet feeling that I celebrate my children's birthdays.

Please tell me that I'm not the only mother that gets teary as each birthday draws near. Please tell me that I'm not the only mother that crawls into their bed on their birthday and just cuddles them close while they're sleeping. Please tell me that I'm not the only mother that runs the story of their birth like a movie in my mind. Please tell me that I'm not the only mother whose throat grows thick at the thought that their child has grown another year older. Please tell me that I'm not the only mother whose is both awed and terrified that God has given me the responsibility of being this child's mother. Wow. I am still as humbled today at the thought of being Devyn's mother as I was three years ago when they laid that tiny baby girl on my chest.

She is beautiful, my baby girl. Sweet, tender, sensitive. She lights up a room with her smile and her spirit is so soft that it touches even strangers in the stores. She is loving, affectionate, funny, and, for the time being, she is mine. I don't know what I've done to deserve such a precious, gift but I am holding on to these moments tightly, with both fists, because her "lasts" are slipping away. As each year comes and goes, she's becoming who God intended her to be and I get the honor of witnessing it from the very beginning. I...am...blessed. Happy birthday, my beautiful girl. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me!

Misc. Weekend Moments

Guess who we caught coloring on the wall? And guess who was happily encouraging him? We knew something was up when Devyn started whispering and laughing. LOL! Oh well, at least its behind our dining room table.

I finally finished Devyn's stocking and I couldn't be happier about it. Whew! One down and one to go. Do you see those sequins on there? Each were hand-sewn by yours truly. I may have to count how many there are when I do Hudson's stocking... NAH!

And now I leave you with a fun video of our troublesome twosome. They seriously play like this for hours on end. [You can also see the scribbled wall in the lower, left-hand corner of the screen.]

I'm Thankful

• There is something magical about fresh-fallen snow; it beckons like a moth to a flame. I'm thankful for the look of glee on Devyn's face as she proclaims "nits no-wing". I'm thankful for the pink bite on her nose and cheeks as she comes in from playing in the snow.



• There is something comforting about coming in from the cold and sitting by a fire. I'm thankful for our home; for the shelter over our heads and the fireplace that completes our living room. I'm thankful for the opportunity to snuggle together in front of the flames.



• There is something enchanting about the holiday season; the lights, the music, the spirit. I'm thankful to live in a country where I can freely celebrate the birth of our Christ. I'm thankful for the kind smiles and warm wishes from perfect strangers in the stores at this time of year.



• There is something heartwarming about sharing a life with someone. I'm thankful for a husband that knows me so intimately, better than anyone else on this earth, and yet still chooses to love me day in and day out. I'm thankful for his heart, his love.



• There is something breathtaking about becoming a mother. I'm thankful for the moments that happen every day that I have to stop and take a breath because I am so awed that God will bless me with these beautiful babes. I'm thankful for the word "Mama".



• There is something exhilarating about getting online and seeing messages in my inbox. I'm thankful for the family and friends that take the time to send me an email, to catch up on each other's lives. I'm thankful for the men and women who take the time to leave me a message on my blog. I'm thankful for the family and friends that offer me encouragement, support, and love on a daily basis. I'm thankful for the internet, the opportunity to connect with Christian women all over the world.



• There is something mind-blowing about a God that would sacrifice something so important to save me! I'm thankful for a God that would send His son to give me life. I'm thankful for a loving God, a God that knows my every thought before I have thought it. I'm thankful for a God that sends me just the right message, the right scripture, the right person, to calm my anxious heart. I'm thankful for a God that will listen to my fears and send the perfect response to keep my eyes on Him. I'm thankful for a God that would send me all of these blessings in my life; I am far from worthy of such wonderful gifts!

Searching for Peace

It has been a teary, weepy couple of days. This is an email I sent to close family and friends today:

This is a hard email to write, because for the first time I'm actually writing out the words; I'm making an admission that I've tried to deny until now. So bear with me, I'm having a hard time with this.

Yesterday was Devyn's 3rd birthday and a visit to the doctor for her 3-year “well child” check-up. In good news, Devyn has gone through a major growth spurt this year. Last year at her 2-year check-up, she was in the 10th percentile for both weight and height. This year she is at the 50th percentile for both of those things. That is no surprise to Jon and me as we've gone through M-A-N-Y clothes this year; she's grown like a weed this past summer. So, praise God for that.

In other, not-so-great news, we're forced to admit that Devyn is seriously lacking in both verbal and social skills. At the doctor appointment, the doctor asked us how much of her vocabulary was understandable and we were forced to admit that only 20% of what she says we can understand. At this age, we should be able to understand about 70% of what she says. We believe her lack of vocabulary skills play into her lack of social skills too. Devyn has a hard time interacting with other children her age, preferring instead to either play by herself or playing "next" to kids, just not WITH them.

The doctor has decided to have a therapist do an evaluation on Devyn and that appointment is next week, on Wednesday. The therapist will spend time with Devyn, interacting with her, measuring her vocabulary, etc. for about an hour and we'll then discuss her findings and decide what she thinks will best benefit Devyn at this time. Please pray with me… for calm and peace through this time; that the therapist will not only find what is wrong with Devyn, but that they'll be able to unlock the speech that I know is in there; and that Devyn will flourish with this extra attention.

Thanks, my prayer warriors.
With love,
Jenn

More on Devyn's birthday party and the bittersweet feeling of watching her get older later this week.

Happy Birthday Munchkin!

And the winner is...

Ok, I used a random integer generator from Random.org and the winner is...

Random Integer Generator

Here are your random numbers:

17

Timestamp: 2007-11-17 16:06:03 UTC

Number 17 is Amy from Carson and Declan Times! Congratulations Amy! I'll be in touch to get your mailing address and the Hobby Lobby gift certificate will be on its way. =)

There Is Hope

She tightened her grip on his tiny hand, trying desperately to calm her nerves. She glanced nervously up and down the street, willing the bus to move faster. After all, the sooner the bus got there, the sooner they’d get to their destination, and the sooner they’d have their answer. The little boy pointed into the air and grunted, trying to get his mother’s attention. “Yes,” she whispered, “that’s a bird.” She curled their fingers together and tapped them against the side of her skirt; she was doing to her best to mask the apprehension she was feeling about this appointment. Just as she was about to ask Jimmy to settle down once more, the bus rounded the corner. She breathed a sigh of relief; never had she been so thankful to see the city bus.

They settled themselves into the seats; her five year old son gazed in wonderment around the big bus. She patted his hand, which was tucked securely under her arm. They were soon on their way across town; heading to an appointment that would answer all of her fears and questions. Along the way, the bus pulled to a stop in front of a red light; across the street was a school yard where children were laughing and running during their morning break. She felt her heart break a little, watching the children play without a care in the world. She looked down at Jimmy, wondering if he understood that he should be one of those kids. “Would he ever be like the other kids?” she wondered. “Has God really given me a handicapped child?” Fear tightened its grip on her heart, she felt as though she was unable to swallow the lump in her throat.

She looked at her son, absolutely perfect on the outside; dark, wavy hair, chocolate brown eyes, and such a happy smile. He was the easiest of her six children; the most laid-back; he was her heart and soul. It wasn’t until he was three years old had the rest of the world started noticing that something wasn’t quite right. Of course, in her mother’s heart, she refused to believe it. But when Jimmy still hadn’t started talking by the time he was four years old, she was forced to admit that something was desperately wrong. She began to notice that in addition to not talking, he stayed mostly to himself; he never interacted with his siblings, only interacting with her. It was as though they had become one person, she was able to anticipate his needs before he was able to point out what he wanted. He was her constant shadow. When fall came around, the fall that he should have been starting kindergarten, she had resigned herself to the fact that Jimmy was special and would never be climbing onto that school bus with his brothers and sisters.

And then one day, a relative suggested that they get Jimmy tested. “It won’t take long,” they offered. “It couldn’t hurt, could it?” She mulled over that question time and time again, did she really want to know? Would the answers hurt more than the unknown? And then as she and Jimmy were both huddled on the kitchen floor, both in tears from the frustration of not understanding each other, her heart breaking that she would never be able to communicate her love for this son, she realized that she needed those answers. Not only for herself but because she owed Jimmy a life, a life outside of the two of them. And so, here they were, on a trek to the Children’s Hospital across town, where doctors were waiting for them.

Upon their arrival nurses whisked her five-year-old away and doctor led her into another room to answer questions. Hours later and numerous visits to the hospital’s chapel while she waited for news, a doctor approached her. She stood on shaky knees, her rosary in hand, determined to face the prognosis head-on. The doctor grasped her gently by the shoulders and looked kindly into her eyes, “There’s hope for your son, Mrs. Sanchez. There is hope.” And with those words, tears trailed down her cheek.

It took three years of speech therapy but Jimmy eventually started talking, carrying conversations, and was soon joining those children on the playground. Decades later, when his third daughter was admitted to the same hospital where he was diagnosed, he walked to that floor. He and his mother did a small tour, he pointed out the rooms he remembered, and shared his memories of that time. They stopped and spoke with the nurses in the Speech department. “Thank you,” he said to them. “Thank you for giving me a life.” She stood there next to him, tears swimming in her eyes. She was once afraid that he would never talk, and now here he was, her Jimmy, a father of four girls, thanking the very nurses and doctors who taught him to speak. All because of a little hope…

Mystery Solved

The mystery has been solved! Apparently our meter reads in the hundreds, but the computer that conducts the meter checks reads in the thousands. So basically when our water bill said that we used 49,000 gallons of water last month, we really only used 4,900. B-I-G difference! We should have some credit coming our way…

Weekend Recap

This weekend was, in a word, divine. Jon came home on Friday afternoon to the sound of squeals and animated chatter. It was as though he’d been missing for months, instead of merely days. And the excitement continued throughout the weekend; Hudson flailed his arms and squealed every time Jon walked into the room, demanding to be picked up by his daddy. It was really too cute for words. And while I never got to sleep in, it was ok because it was such a laid-back, easy-going weekend that we both commented about how rested we both felt. It was wonderful.

I got to put in hours (yes, hours plural) on Devyn’s stocking. I’m not sure if you can see the detail in this picture but the tiny details that are involved with this stocking are exhausting. Do you see those red and white squares at the top of the stocking? I had to cut out each and every one, and then sew them on by hand. Exhausting? Yes. Worth it? Totally. And ladies, if I can make these stockings, anyone can. Devyn is truly excited about her stocking taking shape, constantly wanting to see it and touch it. And she is such a great big sister; she is constantly reminding me that I need to make Hudson’s stocking too. Yes, my love, all in due time. I am hoping to finish Devyn’s stocking within the next week or two, take a break, send out the Christmas cards, and then start on Hudson’s stocking. We shall see how my intentions play out.

We seem to be having an issue with our water bill. We received our bill over the weekend and for the second month in a row our bill is over a $150. Jon and I are perplexed; the meter reads say that we’re using approximately 50,000 gallons of water in a single month. “How?” I ask you. We have no lawns to water; we don’t run our dishwasher every night; Devyn and Hudson take their baths together every other night; and I only do approximately five to six loads of laundry a week! We’ve asked around our neighborhood and our neighbors are only using about 4,000 – 5,000 gallons a month, their water bills are averaging about $40-$50. So, yes, we have a call into our water supplier and hopefully there is something screwy with the meter because we have no other ideas and I refuse to believe that we’re actually using that much water.

Last night, the end of our long, three-day weekend, all four of us climbed into our bed, snuggled under the covers, and watched Ratatouille. Seriously, this is one of the cutest movies I’ve seen in a long time; if you can get past the fact that we’re talking about a rat. There were some scenes where hordes of rats are crawling over floors, etc. and I caught myself cringing at the idea of that many rats in one place but overall, a thoroughly enjoyable movie. And quite frankly, it was the perfect end to a great weekend. There we were, our family of four, all cuddled together; Jon and I taking turns holding them, taking pause breaks for tickle wars, and just the overwhelming feeling of being blessed. I know it sounds as though our family is perfect; trust me, we’re not. But for one weekend at least, things seemed to go pretty smoothly.

A Revelation and A Giveaway

I had a glorious revelation today! This past week, a purely stressful week by anyone's standards, was my last week of full time employment. Oh the bliss just writing that sentence brings to me, you cannot imagine. This week I will only be working four days, as I have Veterans Day off. Then during the week of Thanksgiving, I will only be working a day and a half. And finally... at long last, I start working part-time. I cannot believe this time has arrived, and I'm cherishing the thought of having mornings with my babies!

And so, ladies, in celebration of this long-awaited goal of my life, I'm doing a giveaway. The idea first came to me when my boss finally said yes, and I've tossed and turned over what to give away. First I thought of hiring a maid-for-a-day for the lucky winner, but then I realized how pricey that could get. And quite frankly, we're not made of money. Then I thought about putting together some kind of cooking package, but that felt a little hypocritical since I don't enjoy cooking myself. And then I thought of decorating for the holidays and I got all giddy. And so ladies, without further ado, this is a drawing for a $30 gift certificate to either Hobby Lobby or Michael's (winner's choice) for one lucky person.

Please leave a comment for this post by the end of the day on Friday, November 16th and I'll announce the winner on Sunday, November 18th. Please also leave a way for me to get in touch with you. Good luck to everyone!

Ode to This Week

He kissed us good-bye
and wished us well.
Five days he was gone,
left to fend for ourselves.

Tears were cried
and feelings were soothed,
Into the car and
off to Nana’s we moved.

With a quick kiss and a hug,
I was out the door.
Ready to face
the employees and their roar.

Open Enrollment in progress,
insurance to decide.
Questions to answer
and decisions to guide.

Employees irate, confused,
and upset;
Unwilling to listen;
often saying, “I just forget.”

After much hair pulling
and grimacing abound,
I pick up the kids
and we’re soon homebound.

Scrambling after Hudson
and dinner to be fed,
Story time commences
and prayers were said.

A kiss good-night,
lights turned out.
I collapse on the couch,
trying to avoid burnout.

One day down,
four more to go.
Upon his arrival,
a smile I’ll bestow.

Come Saturday morning,
asleep I will be.
Once again I’ll be fun,
energetic, loving, carefree.

This week was hard;
there is no doubt.
A two parent household,
is what this family is all about.

Welcome home babe; you were most definitely missed! And yes... it is my turn to sleep in tomorrow…

Like Father, Like Son

It was his eyes that caught my attention; those deep, clear blue eyes that absolutely sparkled with mischief and life. They were expressive eyes, eyes that shone from clear across the room; they were enchanting eyes. And then I noticed his smile; the crooked, wide smile that flashed brilliantly at whoever crossed his path. When that smile was bestowed, one couldn’t help but return the smile back; it was that contagious. The mixture of those eyes and that smile were a deadly duo, giving him the opportunity to get away with the most mischievous of actions.

We were 15 and 16 years old that night that we first noticed each other. It was our last night in Guatemala during a youth group mission trip; Jon, two other teens, and I had congregated on the floor of the common room. We sat around for hours just talking, teasing, and recapping the two-week trip. And during that whole time I was thoroughly fascinated by him; his eyes, his smile, his gregarious personality. I remember looking at him that night and thinking to myself, “This guy is going to be someone special in my life.” Little did I know that a year and a half later we’d be dating, or that we’d someday be raising a family together.

Ten years later our little boy has joined this family; our little boy that is the spitting image of his father, right down to the sparkle in his eyes and the same infectious smile. And if I thought it was nearly impossible to say no to Jon, just imagine how much harder it is for me to say no to my little man. Hudson flashes that smile at me, the same twinkle in his eyes, and I simply melt into a puddle on the floor. It matters not that he has just strewn every single one of the beads from my stocking kit all over the floor. It matters not that I can’t put him down for fear of becoming deaf from his screams. I’m a sucker for mischievous eyes and a captivating smile.

Picture Me

Rachelle from Seek First His Kingdom has tagged me for the “Picture Me” meme. I’m supposed to post a picture of me, write about it, and tag three people.

This isn’t a great picture by any means, but it’s incredibly sentimental to me. This is the three sisters and I September of 1999. We were picking up our sister, Allison, from the airport (with my parents of course) after being separated for three solid months. Alli had been at Remuda Ranch, an incredible facility that deals with eating disorders, for those months getting healthy. It was a wonderful reunion!

I'm going to tag Amy, Sarah, Dana, and anyone else who wants to play along.

Guess Who

Learning a Lesson

As I was placing the dishes in the dishwasher this morning, a post started forming in my head. I promised myself to clear the sink before heading down to the computer and now I can put my thoughts to paper (or computer, in this case). This week has been a hard one in our household, mainly because my attitude just sucked. I did not treat my husband with the love or respect that I am called to do. In fact, I even went on "strike" this week in regard to household chores.

In this day and age, where women can have it "all" (i.e., husband, children, home, and work) and the demand for equality among the spouses, I find its hard not to buy into that mindset. For instance, since I work outside the home, I feel I am "owed" equal share of the household duties. When I felt that Jon wasn't living up to his end of my expectations, I went on strike. Yes, you read that right. I stopped doing the laundry, beds went unmade, dishes piled up in the kitchen, etc. And with each piece of clothing that fell to the floor, I found my heart getting more bitter and angry. "Doesn't he get it?" I thought. "What is it going to take for him to realize that the bathroom is a disaster?" I even started participating in grumbling about husbands with the coworkers at work. Oh my heart is heavy as I realize how very wrong I was and how I need to ask Jon for forgivenss... again. (Luckily, I married a VERY forgiving man!) A simple discussion, a plea for help, was all it took for Jon to realize that we needed teamwork when it came to our household duties. We then started working on the house together... hence, my place at the sink with the dirty dishes this morning.

And then, as I was rinsing the last of the macaroni and cheese from a pan, I had another thought hit me. There are women all over this country, who would happily give up their "rights to equal housework", to have a husband AT home to clean up after. Right now, my uncle is on a R&R leave, from a 15-month stint in Afghanistan. His wife (my pseudo-aunt who is only a few older than me) is cherishing every single moment with her husband. She has counted down the days, nay hours, until he returned home for this visit. She anxiously prepared their almost-2-year-old for Daddy's return and watched in anticipation as they reconnected with each other. And I guarantee, she would much rather be washing his socks, his shirts, his dishes, than have him living half a world away, hoping and praying that he is safe. And our good friends, Cassie and Jeremy, are getting ready for his 15-month stint in Afghanistan. He leaves the day after Thanksgiving, leaving behind his wife, their 4-year-old daughter, and 10-month-old son. Again, I highly doubt she's complaining about her housework or other trivial things because she is just trying to cherish each day between now and November 23rd.

And so I'll return to my kitchen in just a few moments, with both a greater respect for military wives all over the country and a much better perspective and attitude about my "chores" in life. I am thankful for a forgiving husband, I am thankful for a husband that pitches in when asked, and I am thankful that my husband is here, in the flesh, for me to cherish and hug every day. The next time I feel my shackles rising about the plate that was left on our bedroom dresser, I hope that I'll smile, laugh at my husband's forgetfulness, and take the plate to the kitchen myself. But since I know I'll forget this lesson in a few months, I'll have to earmark this post to come back to for a good, swift kick to the rear end gentle reminder.

Halloween Fun?

What do you get when you combine a butterfly, a short (non-existent) nap, and a mother who is bound to show off the kids at work? A recipe for disaster, that’s what. Honestly, it wasn’t as bad I just made it sound, but it was close. Devyn was the grouchiest little butterfly I’ve ever seen, barely saying please, thank-you, or trick-or-treat. In fact, this is all she would do.


Oh well… Hudson more than made up for her attitude with his cuteness as a caterpillar. It was hysterical watching him crawl in his costume; the little legs on the side of his costume would wiggle and move with him. We had many laughs over our little “caterpillar”.


Once we filled Devyn’s tummy and we had some down time at home, Devyn’s attitude turned around and made for a much better evening. The original plan was to go trick-or-treating, but that idea was nixed in favor of our church’s carnival, inside from the cold. Devyn had a great time, especially in the inflatable jumping machine and the ball “pit” created out of a swimming pool. As you can see Hudson thoroughly enjoyed the ball “pit” too.


Our evening ended with a trip to Papa’s house, some more candy, and a hard sugar crash. But we made it through another Halloween and can now start preparing for my favorite holiday season.


Speaking of which, I’m feeling a bit ambitious and have decided to make my children’s Christmas stockings. I couldn’t find anything I liked and then I found these in the craft aisle of our local Walmart. My mother made four similar stockings for us and I have such fond memories of seeing those filled up on Christmas morning. Surely, I can get two of them done between now and Christmas. Good luck to me!