re-dial

Tooth Fairy ... we're gonna need you back here, again.



Now, hopefully, his teeth will start growing in soon.

paging the tooth fairy

Unlike his previous teeth, thankfully, I'm not responsible for this tooth falling out...



I love the look of excitement in his eyes ... losing teeth can be such a thrilling experience!

disaster diverted

While William hasn't bridged from Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts yet, he has selected the Boy Scout troop he wants to join ... and last weekend, they invited him on an overnight camping trip.

The forecast called for days in the 50's, nights in the 30's, and rain.  Not what any of us, Charlie especially, would consider "ideal" camping conditions ... but he's a great Dad so he and William set off camping, while the other three kids and I made plans for a cozy weekend amidst soccer games.

Charlie and William pulled out at 6:00 PM and by 8:00 PM, I'd fed the kids dinner and we were gearing up to watch a movie on Netflix.  While the movie was queueing, I decided to start a fire.



One thing I should mention is that unlike Virginia, where we had a wood burning fireplace, our fireplace in Texas is gas, which is a much easier, and much cleaner than wood (no ash or soot).

We know gas fireplaces. We had one in San Diego. But the gas fireplace at our Texas house is different.  Notice the bookshelf on the right side of the fireplace?



That bookcase was constructed by the previous owners and the access to the valve has been cut in to the wood.



The previous owners built the wall unit AROUND the access valve.



The problem, that I noticed the very first time I tried to ignite the fire, is that in order to turn on the gas, you need to reach your hand INSIDE a small hole that was cut in to the casing and access the key which is approximately 3-inches from the surface.



From Day 1, I haven't liked this configuration because if you drop the key inside the casing, there's no way to get it back out.   I've had it in mind to fix this awkward setup, but haven't done it yet. 



And yes - yes - of course it happens on Friday night, when I'm home alone with the kids, I crank on the gas line and the key falls inside the wall. So there I am with the gas ON and what I should have done is immediately ignited the gas.

But my mind was reeling with, "I DROPPED THE *%#! KEY, MUST HAVE CONTROL OF GAS..." so I ran in to the bedroom, desperately looking for another key in our bedroom fireplace. By the time I got back to the living room, the gas had been on for more than 30 seconds, and I didn't want to ignite the gas because of the accumulation, there would likely be a fire ball.  So I instead stuck the key in to the dark casing and tried to turn the gas off.

Lefty Lucy ... Righty Tighty.



I figured we'd skip a fire, the accumulated gas would dissipate, and all would be well.  We watched our movie, and went to bed.  Everything is secure ... so I think.

Saturday morning, we wake up and scramble out the door at 8:00 AM to Henry's soccer game.  I think I smell gas when I go outside, but am not entirely sure.  When we come home at 10:30 AM, so the girls can get ready for their soccer game at 11:30, I notice that there are two fire trucks parked in front of our house, and at least five firemen are walking up and down our street with monitors.

They're popping sewer lids and checking air levels.

The definite smell of gas hits me when I walk past our side yard and in to the garage, but I think it's probably off gas from our next door neighbor igniting his hot tub.  The thought flashed through my mind to have the firemen come check out our yard, but my anxiety to get to the soccer game on time, won out.

We return from the soccer game, and when we pull in to the driveway, the smell of gas hits me, again. This time it's stronger. Much more concentrated - along the side of the house.  "That's odd!" I think, as I sent Charlie a text message. "There's a strong smell of gas, not sure where it's coming from. Might be our outdoor kitchen? Fire pit? Perhaps its the neighbors?"

The kids and I take down our Christmas tree - cleanup the house - and each time I walk to our side yard to throw out trash, I'm taken aback by that smell of gas.  I'm curious, but I'm not overly alarmed, as I walk around the perimeter of our house, checking the various gas connections and can't seem to find anything out of the ordinary.

Saturday night, we watch another movie, and go to bed.

Sunday morning, I get up and take Louie for a walk.  Coming back to the house, I still smell gas and for whatever asinine reason, I'm not alarmed.  I'd like to blame my lack of concern on my recent brain surgery and obvious diminished competency.

Within a few hours, Charlie comes back home and when he goes to the backyard and pops up the saturated tents to air out, he is downright alarmed at the smell of gas.   He immediately calls the Gas Company and reports a potential leak. Within 15 minutes, we have a technician at our front door and he walks the perimeter with a gas monitor and confirms that there are hits all around the house.  He then instructs us to turn off all the gas coming in to the house.

I'm in the kitchen cleaning up from breakfast and Charlie comes in saying, "Jen, you need to turn off ALL the gas in the house."  I reassured him, "Everything IS off."

The technician is talking to Charlie from outside, and my husband yells in to the kitchen, "He says the gas meter is spinning...."  The technician then comes in to the house with his gas monitor and walks through the kitchen.  He walks over to the fireplace and opening the glass doors, yells, "THIS IS IT! TURN OFF THE GAS!!" 

Charlie fumbled his hand in to the wall unit, through the little hole, and cranked down on the key.  Then both he and the technician turned around and stared at me with bug eyes.

They both began rapid firing me with questions, "When did you say you turned that on?  Do you realize it was opened to HIGH? Which way did you turn it, when you thought you were turning it off?"  The technician looked at us and said, "This could have been very bad.  This could have been a real tragedy...." His voice trails off, as Charlie looks and me and his eyes are filling with tears.

I'd been in the kitchen, with a soapy pot in my hand, feeling very indignant.  "I turned it off!! I know that I totally turned it off! It must be broken....!"

Denial. 
 
The technician left, and as I contemplated what had happened, I barked, "That damn fireplace!  Whoever built it where you can't access the key properly ... what the hell were they thinking?"

Anger. 

The gas to our fireplace, had been on high, for more than FORTY HOURS, un-ignited.   If not for the draft which caused the warm air from our house to be pulled in and up through the chimney, and accumulate on the side of the house (where I smelled it), the gas would have come in to the house, displaced all oxygen, and we would have all asphyxiated; particularly if it happened at night when we were sleeping and didn't notice the odor.  Or, there might have been a catastrophic explosion ... like this one had someone ignited something like a cigarette along the side yard.

My Promise to the Universe is that I am going to rip out the entire bookcase and have a new ignition valve designed.  OR, I'm going to concrete in the entire fireplace.

Bargaining. 

By Sunday evening, a dark cloud was upon me.  On some subconscious level, I knew there was a problem as early as Saturday morning, because I had considered calling over the firemen to investigate.  My neighbor would later tell me that another fire truck came by on Saturday afternoon, and the Sheriff's car was outside of our house on Sunday morning.  By the time I went to bed, I was physically sick with the what ifs of what could have happened to me and my three children.  Monday morning, I could hardly move from the grief and sadness at the thought of 4/6 in our family being wiped out because of MY negligence.  Me and these three ...



Depression. 

This weekend, I am feeling better and confident that YES, we will be redesigning the fireplace.  We will be cutting out a more appropriate access point for the gas valve, and exploring a remote control system.   Charlie asked me how I didn't know that I'd turned it wide open, instead of off.   Didn't I hear the gentle, whooooosh of the gas?   Answer, no, because I'm still partially deaf following my surgery, especially low range sounds.  Didn't I remember "Righty Tighty, Lefty Lucy?" Answer, yes, of course I know that.  But I have no answer what happened Friday night except, I was flustered and tried to get it off as quickly as I could. So when we do the redesign, we will clearly add a label that reads, "OFF" with an arrow pointing to the right.

Acceptance. 

So many times in life, things happen where our life, or safety, might be compromised and we may not even realize it.  This wasn't one of those times.  This is up there as the scariest WHAT-IF moments of my entire life.  I think it's hit me so hard because I've been raised in a safety culture where ALL accidents are preventable.  And this could have been prevented, or curtailed, at so many points:

• Had I fixed the valve sooner, the valve that I knew was a problem, I wouldn't have lost the key inside the wall, that put me in a mild panic and caused a mad dash for me to run and find another key.

• Had I ignited the fire, anyway, I would have known it was on, and I would have properly turned the gas off before we went to bed.  It was the NOT igniting it, that got me in trouble.  

• Had I summoned the firemen to come investigate on Saturday, they likely would have found the source.  It was like God whispering in my ear to have them come over ... and I ignored it.

• Had I been more alarmed (why wasn't I alarmed?!) at the smell of gas on Saturday morning, Saturday afternoon, Saturday evening, or any point on Sunday - I would have called the emergency response line at the Gas Department and figured it out sooner.

Isn't this life?  Things happen, so we must learn from our "near losses" and we must remain diligent. Most of all, we must listen to that little voice whispering in our ear.   Adding to my own personal list of what I "Should Have Done..." I really Should Have bought a Power Ball ticket last week when the jackpot was at astronomical proportions.

With the amazing luck I've had, I'd probably now be a billionaire.

learning moments abound

Ever since we've been parents, Charlie and I have vacillated on having someone come in to help clean our house. For a while, we had a service come through twice a month, and then once a week. They'd mop and vacuum, scrub counters, dust, and change linens.



But I always found that I spent so much time getting ready for this housecleaning service, if I wanted to get the most out of their visit.  It wasn't like I could just let the SWAT team of maids loose and expect it would be done to my satisfaction.  I had to put things away where I wanted them to go, or run the risk that those things, including toys and important papers, would be stacked and placed in some random location.  To me, that's the hardest part ... putting things away.  Once everything is where it's supposed to go, the mopping and vacuuming and dusting is easy.

While the cost of having a service wasn't totally cost prohibitive, I felt like it was a waste of money because within a day, the house was a wreck.

What is it with boys and bathrooms?

Kids and muddy soccer cleats?

Lego parts?

The unending laundry?

Then it dawned on me.  We have six very abled bodies that live here.  So more recently, we're of the mindset that our children are old enough to clean up after themselves and help contribute to the running of a house.  A few months ago, I spent 30 minutes teaching the kids how I like to clean a bathroom, and then set them loose with small gloves, cans of Comet, a broom, mop, and toilet brush. I figure this solves two issues:

1) It teaches them the importance of cleaning up after themselves, and how to do it.  When they move out in to the world one day, it's unlikely they'll have a maid following them.

2) It helps us to stay focused during the week on the task of keeping things tidy because they'll ultimately be responsible for dealing with it.

Because this has been a particularly busy week and we haven't stayed on top of things so well, today, the kids helped do several loads of laundry. They also vacuumed their rooms.  With all the hands on deck, we were able to get the house picked up in less than two hours.  Of course they're still learning and their efforts aren't totally flawless. For example, today they learned that you don't YANK the vacuum cord plugged in upstairs, when you're standing downstairs.



On the upside, tomorrow, we get to learn how to replace an electric plug!

winning in the game of life

We love a good family game night.



So every night during the children's winter vacation, we played games.  We played card games like Crazy 8's and Crazy Bridge, and board games like Clue, Scattergories, Sorry, and RISK.  One night, we divided in to teams and played Monopoly.  We played Monopoly a lot when we lived in Virginia ... usually when the kids had a snow day and we'd be camped inside near the fire.  Back then, the kids would substitute the official Monopoly tokens for their own tokens because a Killer Whale is much more intimidating than an old shoe.



But back then, the games didn't last very long because the kids lacked a critical component called "Strategy" and would wind up trading every dollar they have, plus their railroads and Park Place, for a monopoly on something like Mediterranean and Baltic Avenues.



Last week, we divided up so that William and Henry were one team, Charlie and Elizabeth were another, and Carolyn and I were the third.  Sadly, the rolls weren't going in the latter teams' favor and we kept landing on Community Chest and/or Chance, which would send us directly to jail, levy a tax, or require a medical co-pay.



Meanwhile, the Gods of Favor were smiling on William and Henry.



When they weren't rolling dice that would take them to an unowned property, that they would quickly purchase, they were landing on Free Parking and taking all the money that our teams had to keep paying in fines and expenses.



Within an hour, they had a monopoly on Pacific, North Carolina and Pennsylvania Avenues and were building houses.



And then hotels.   



I've watched and read too many Jane Austen works to the children because William would say in his best attempt at an British accent, "Where shall I construct my next hotel?  Pray tell, would it vex you greatly if I put one ... HERE?!"



Eventually, we'd get out of jail and within two rolls, would unavoidably land on the brothers' property.  The universe was totally conspiring against us and our little white dice.  Still, we laughed and had so much fun - because these moments are totally life and such a perfect example of how things can so often go.

"Seriously, what is wrong with these dice?? ARE THEY BROKEN?!" 



Once William and Henry had constructed "Brother Row" Charlie and Elizabeth never made a full lap around the board.  Since Charlie had been the banker, his parting gift to me upon his bankruptcy, was to unethically slip us $5K in hopes that we'd have a fighting chance.



Even with the embezzlement, it didn't matter.



What is meant to be, will be.

Note: I did wind up telling William and Henry the truth about how that stack of $500's suddenly showed up in our pile.  While it seemed like a hilarious idea at the time, I let the kids know it was really wrong and we need to be honest and lead by example.  Sometimes what might seem like a funny or good idea, turns out to be a really bad idea and you can quickly get in over your head.

And if there's one thing we know for sure, it's that we'd never want for greed or the quest for control, to overtake us such that we'd put money or possessions over people.  

While it was so easy to take ... integrity is doing the right thing when no one is looking.  Whether in a board game - or life - every so often, you aren't going to get the rolls that you want and there isn't much to do about it, except laugh and know when to surrender gracefully.   Everyone agreed its best to have "growth opportunities" with family because with a sincere apology, those that genuinely love us - despite our shortcomings - tend to be the most forgiving.

Me being forgiven. Again.  

Speaking of family and genuine love, this photo ...



Reminds me so much of this one, when Charlie played Monopoly with Tommy and Diana, who were only 12 and 11 at the time...



You know what they say about apples and trees.

this is why I wear elastic waist bands

Like so many people the world over, Charlie and I jotted down a few thoughts for how we were planning to make this year ... 2016 ... our best year yet.  Those thoughts included, but are not limited to:

Taking an abundance of vacations and seeing as much of our world, and the Great State of Texas, at every possible opportunity.

Seizing moments - like while dinner is cooking - to play a quick game with the children.  

Reading at least one book a month as a family.   

Handwriting more letters.  

Finding a church community.  

Being more disciplined with our time and patience. 

Being more gentle with ourselves, and others. 

Like every year, one of the big things that we're planning to do this year (and we really, really mean it this time) is get in to a GOOD exercise routine.  While we've been walking a couple miles every day, we haven't been very disciplined about going to the gym that we recently joined. And with Charlie turning 50 this year - we figured we need to change that, post haste.  And there's no time to really embrace this like the start of a new year. 

We were planning to go to the gym on Thursday to end 2015 on a high note, but when we arrived at 3 PM, we were surprised to see that they had already closed. They were closed again on Friday. Saturday and Sunday, we didn't even attempt to go because we had these amazing holiday recipes to make with food that was about to expire and ....... see the problem, here? 

Following brunch yesterday, Charlie was tidying up the kitchen when he had a wardrobe malfunction. 

With my husband's permission, I present to you Exhibit 1: The the button off of Charlie's brand new LL Bean shorts.  According to Charlie, it didn't just "fall off."  No, it came off with the velocity of a missile, when my husband bent over to tie his shoe.   Upon closer inspection, you can actually see the fracture patterns. 

Stepping back, I think it looks like a face. 

The look of a face that says....



"PUT DOWN THE DONUT AND GET YOURSELF TO THE GYM." 

sweet things

First and foremost, thank you so much to everyone who has lifted up our sweet Kathryn in your thoughts and prayers.  Last night I was on the phone for a few hours with my cousin Margaret, and she indicated that at that time, Kathryn was still unconscious.

Margaret was planning to spend the night at the hospital with Lisa so she wouldn't be alone, and as she told me about the people who had been with them throughout the past 36 hours, I got so choked up thinking about how powerfully awesome families are .... and have the ability to be.

Not since this accident happened has Kathryn been alone.  While the crash happened on a deserted country road, thankfully it was witnessed and she was quickly rescued.  And since then, she has been surrounded by love from her parents, her siblings, her cousins, her congregation, her friends, and so many people she may never have the privilege to meet.

Over night, Kathryn opened one eye and responded to her mother.  And the most recent update - just a few hours ago - is that she is off the respirator, alert and coherent.

Can I get a Hallelujah?!

Considering what she has been through, it is nothing short of a miracle.  While she still has a long way to go in her recovery, I'd like to thank the power of prayer ... and the ability of a strong young body to heal.  Lisa has updated her blog, so please stay plugged in for further updates, and please continue to keep her in your prayers. They do work and are felt by the entire family.

In other news, this is how we decorate a gingerbread house at our house...



We'll need more frosting over here!

We'll also need another two weeks off from school.  The daily baking, lounging, and game playing has been insanely fun and rejuvenating.



The jury is in, and the consent is unanimous.  We're not quite ready for the holidays to be over and schedules to resume.

with all of our hearts

I've written before about my family in South Carolina.



My Aunt Grace and Uncle Bill, who have always been like a second set of parents to me.  And I've written before about my cousins Margaret and Lisa, two of Aunt Grace and Uncle Bill's five children, who are sisters to me.  Lisa is also a blogger and an amazing photographer.

While I haven't written about it before, my cousin Lisa is married to a kind and gentle man named Mark, who last year, underwent a heart transplant.  While the transplant saved Mark's life, they still are required to make three hour drives, each way, to Emory University in Atlanta, several times a month so that Mark's progress can be closely monitored.  While this situation has taken a toll on them, it has also strengthened them.  Whenever I've talked to Lisa, she emanates patience, peace, but above all - faith and gratitude.  

Mark and Lisa are an amazing couple, they are deeply in love, and over their 25+ year marriage have raised four incredible children.  Lisa has homeschooled them all, and they are such good, good kids.



There is Matthew, the oldest, who is now in college and planning to pursue graduate studies in philosophy and theology.  There is Stephen, the gentle giant, who wears a size 17 (!) shoe and has a heart bigger than his soles.  He is always there to help and do whatever he can for people, including my 82-year old mother, and 92-year old Jim.  Mark and Lisa's fourth and youngest, Mary Elizabeth, shares a birthday with my mother (July 7, hence her name, Mary!), and is a year older than Henry.  Mary Elizabeth is our daughters' pen pal, although Mary has proven to be a much more "consistent" correspondent.

This summer, during our move from Virginia to Texas, Charlie and I spent the night in South Carolina at my Aunt Grace's home and we had some time to sit and talk with Kathryn, the third of Mark and Lisa's children.  Kathryn is soft spoken and beautiful, a mirror image of her mother.



Kathryn told me how she was taking classes at the local college, and working in a restaurant as a waitress.  As I was talking with her, I was so excited for her, because to be standing on the threshold of adulthood with your whole life in front of you is awesome.

When I talked with my mother last week, she mentioned that Lisa and Kathryn had come over to cook her and Jim dinner one night (and then stayed to clean up!) and Mom said how she had asked Kathryn what she wanted to do one day.  Kathryn said she didn't know yet, and my mother asked her, "What brings you the most joy?"  Kathryn told my mother, "Biology. I love studying biology." And my mother responded, "Well then, that might be the field for you!"

Now I tell you this, and I give this small glimpse in to Mark and Lisa's family because I think it is necessary to know them, and by knowing them, you are more likely to care for them.

Yesterday morning, beautiful Kathryn was in a car accident.  She suffered severe injuries, including a head trauma that has required her to be placed in a medically induced coma and intubated.  The next 48 hours are critical. While we will not know about brain damage for several more days, she has broken bones, bruised her lung, and damaged her pancreas.

I've often heard the phrase, "God doesn't give you more than you can handle" and I'm not sure that I fully agree.  I believe life happens because of circumstances and sometimes, things occur that are way more than we can handle.    

How do you nurture and sustain that critically necessary strength of spirit to shield you in times of misfortune?  And how do you continue to have FAITH when life seems to hit you with one thing after another?  How do you continue to believe that the Universe is unfolding as it should, and God's fingerprints are on everything?

As for me, I have come to believe in the incredible power of community, gratitude, and on your knees prayer.  So today, on the first day of what I know will be a beautiful and growth-inducing new year, I am gratefully asking my communities to join me to pray for my Aunt Grace's grandchild; Lisa and Mark's daughter; Matthew and Stephen's little sister - and Mary Elizabeth's big sister.



Kathryn Grace with the beautiful face, who I pray like her incredibly strong cousin, Emily, will make a full and complete recovery.

And become the best biologist the world has ever seen.

our sergeant major

My mother called this morning to tell me that her big brother, our Uncle Bernie, passed away this morning.  From all the stories that I've heard through my mother, as far as brothers go, Uncle Bernie was one of the greats.  He was the third in line of nine children, and for her entire life, he absolutely adored my mother who is number nine.



Uncle Bernie doted on my mother when she was a child, and fiercely supported her during the painful divorce from my father.  Because of his kindness and compassion, Unk Bernie will always have a special place in my mother's heart. And my heart, too.

I've written about Uncle Bernie before here and here and here and here and here.

Legend has it, he was the youngest Sergeant Major in the history of the United States Marine Corp.  He enlisted when he was a teenager, during World War II, and because of his work ethic, tenacity, and fiery spirit, he rapidly moved up the ranks and achieved Sergeant Major by the age of 21.   He was at the infamous Battle of Guadalcanal and has long had the reputation of being tough as nails. 

When I introduced him to Charlie, many years ago, at his daughter Jackie's wedding in 1992, I told my then boyfriend that my Uncle "was a former Marine." The words hadn't even completely left my mouth when my uncle sternly corrected me, "Young Lady, once a Marine ... ALWAYS a Marine!" 

(Thank you Uncle Bernie ... I've never made that same faux pas again!)

When he first ventured in to the world of personal computers nearly two decades ago, Uncle Bernie's email address was SgtMaj21, and he'd often forward jokes, stories, or various anecdotes with a sentence or two about how much he was enjoying this "new technology!" We swapped emails for the next few years, and I'm honored that my then 83-year old Uncle left a comment on my very first blog post in 2006.

Uncle Bernie and his beautiful wife, Aunt Lorraine, had eight children themselves and after the triplets were born, they sent me a lovely note to express how proud they were of triplets in our family, and to warn me ahead of time, that they'd be bragging about them on our behalf.



During his time in the USMC, he was stationed in San Diego for a while, and would tell me how much he loved the brilliant blue sky against the rugged desert mountains.  He once told me the story of a plane that he took off from Coronado Island that crashed very soon after lift off.  He and the pilot parachuted to safety, but the plane is still somewhere off the coast, in the depths of the Pacific.

Uncle Bernie is one of the greatest generation.  He was a great Marine, a great brother, and a great Uncle - who was the inspiration for my brother Frank, to enlist in the Marines as well.  But more than any of that, he was a great husband and a great father and I know this because his family is solid and that doesn't happen by chance.

Tonight, it is my heart felt prayer that our fiery Uncle Bernie's spirit is once again united with his beloved, Lorraine, and his daughter, Andrea. While we will mourn his loss, we will also celebrate the amazing life that he has led ... an abundantly full and predominantly healthy life that spanned 93.5 wonderful years.



Semper Fi, Uncle Bernie.  I've always been so proud to be your niece and have often bragged on your behalf, too.

the texas polar bear plunge

When I went on my solo-house hunting trip to Texas this past June, I assured Charlie and the children that I would find a house with a pool.  As luck would have it, our pool has an adjoining hot tub and I'm happily surprised at the amount of use they receive.  Even as the temperature has continued to drop, Charlie swam in the pool, nightly, through October.  But now that the air temperature is in the 50's range, and the pool temperature is in the low 60's range ... we haven't been using the pool at all.

Until tonight. 

After sitting in the hot tub for all of five minutes, the boys decided that they would jump in to the pool which was frigid cold, and swim one full lap.  Charlie led the charge, followed by his two thrill-seeking sons.  Here's Henry paddling and kicking as fast as his little limbs can manage:



Meanwhile, the girls stayed in the 103 degree hot tub because while we love a challenge, we're not totally crazy.  And given the option of being miserable and cold ... or happy and warm, we unanimously opted for the latter.  Must be something about the XX chromosome.

it came upon a midnight clear

This time of the year is always magical.  But this year, the lights are a little brighter ... the songs are a little merrier ... and the feeling is just a lot more holy.

All the pathology reports are back and the right side tumor was negative.  My healing is progressing - slowly but surely - and I'm grateful for family, friends, and joy.   I've been like George Bailey, smiling from ear to ear, hugging my children and husband at every possible moment, and winking at the heavens every time I hear a bell ring.

"Atta boy, Clarence. ATTA BOY!" 

When my mother was here, in between working with the children on their knitting...



And playing games of Connect Four ...



Mom took on the task of wrapping all of our December books for us while the children were in school.



Each night this month, we've read a page from our Advent book, and unwrapped a Christmas book while the excitement has been steadily, steadily, growing.



Last year at this time, William and I had "the talk" about Santa.  And this past October, as I was tucking the girls in to bed one night, they asked about Santa.  They'd already had several questions about Jackson the Elf (including why they found him in our Virginia closet this past summer before our move?!), and after hemming and hawing, I told them the truth about the Man in Red, just as I had told their brother.

I also let them know that although William knew, Henry didn't and it was very important for us to preserve the magic for him.

Even though the older kids KNOW the truth, the girls choose not to BELIEVE the truth, about Jackson or Santa, which is 100% fine by me.  If they want to keep writing letters to Santa, and excitedly hunt around the house each morning for the Elf alongside Henry, I'm more than happy to oblige.

Now before I go any further, it's important to mention that last year we put the triplets in braces.

I'd seriously debated putting Elizabeth in, because she was still sucking her thumb and I didn't want to put for the effort (or money), if she wasn't committed to having straight teeth.  But she promised me.  Crossed her heart and pinky swear'd and all of that.  No surprise to anyone (least of all me), she didn't give up sucking her thumb, because she couldn't function without Bunny.

So this year the braces came off, and the thumb is still in and I'm again reminded how the wise do not trust their children with a secret, nor make deals with said juveniles.  I've also been frequently encouraging Elizabeth to try and go a day or more without Bunny and thus, thumb sucking.  Because the only time she sucks her thumb is when she has Bunny.

So this week, Jackson the Elf - who let me remind you, the triplets know is not real - hijacked Bunny.  When we woke up on Sunday morning,  as I posted on Twitter, Jackson was perched way on top of the kitchen cabinets, with Bunny in his clutches.  We laughed and laughed, thinking how funny it was that Bunny would get a ride to the North Pole and meet Santa.

Everyone laughed, including Elizabeth.

The Amazing Trips ‏@AmazingTrips  Dec 20

Jackson our Elf-on-the-Shelf has taken a hostage. Looks like Bunny is going to the North Pole...!

I'm thinking how great it would be if Bunny appears at the bottom of Elizabeth's stocking on Christmas morn, smelling of peppermint and wearing a little red scarf.

I've got it all planned out. 

But the next day, when Jackson appeared on a chandelier still clutching Bunny, it wasn't funny anymore and Elizabeth wanted Bunny back.  Now. Now. Now.

On Monday, Henry sneaks in to our bedroom closet and discovers (almost) the entire unwrapped present stash which had been hidden beneath blankets.  Fortunately, we intercepted him before he gave a FULL REPORT to his siblings. We immediately sit the children down and talk to them about the excitement and anticipation of Christmas, the element of surprise, and the feeling of magic.  Much of that will disappear if they are sneaky, so please let's not ruin the surprise, or we'll have no choice but donate all those toys. And they'll get coal.

Charlie takes off to bring Henry to a birthday party, and I'm home with the the trio and we're sitting down at the table, beneath Jackson (and Bunny) to work on math.  While I'm all for sleeping in, and watching movies, and playing nonstop ... I'm also an advocate for keeping their minds sharp.  At least a few times during their break from school,  I'll have them write in their journals and work on IXL.  (If you have children and haven't yet discovered IXL, discover it now ... it's the best online math program I've found!)

William and Carolyn plow through their math, no problem.  Elizabeth, who was off to a good start and is fully capable of doing her math, starts to slip.  She becomes distracted and wants Bunny back. Her bottom lip comes out, as I'm telling her that first and foremost, legend has it we aren't supposed to touch the Elf.  Also, she promised me she'd stop sucking her thumb if we put her in braces and more than a year later - she is still sucking her thumb.  And then the tears start to roll. And roll.  

And roll. 

I'm probably going to do a dismal job of explaining what an overly dramatic tween is like.  But if you have - or have ever had one - you might understand.  This may come as a surprise, but my Elizabeth, my precious sweet child that I adore more than life itself,  is one of the most overly dramatic tweens that has ever lived.  At least,  she eclipses and then repeatedly orbits her identically aged tween siblings. As I've previously conveyed, one of her nicknames is Loki, because of the chaos she will intentionally cause.

I know there is a reason behind this irrational behavior, and I'm working on that tirelessly. The cure involves a lot of one-on-one time, patience, and love, love, love.

You know, the key ingredients to parenting, or life, in general.

But there we are on Monday, the Winter Solstice - the triplets and me.  Christmas music is playing in the background, cheery sparkling lights are on throughout the house, the smell of pumpkin spice muffins fills the air.  Carolyn and William have finished their math, and are writing to their Compassion friends, and Elizabeth is now on the brink of a seizure because her Bunny - which she knows is safe, and will come back to her, is currently in the clutches of a fictious Elf, above her.

After a few minutes of trying to logically work through the situation and fairy tale consequences, my patience meter - along with the patience meters of William and Carolyn - was tapped out.  I reached up and grabbed Jackson off the chandelier, and pulled Bunny out of his arms as a look of horror swept across Elizabeth's face.

Handing Elizabeth Bunny, I took a deep breath and said, "Elizabeth, how else would I get Bunny down if I didn't touch Jackson? You knew that this would happen...."

She throws her hands over her face and continues to cry, "YOU RUINED THE MAGIC! YOU RUINED THE MAGIC!"

ME? 

I RUINED THE MAGIC?!

The one who is slowly recovering from brain surgery and has done everything within my ability to make this Christmas a special one?? 

Suspecting that I might be trespassing in the parental fail zone from which there is very seldom any return,  I had an out of body experience and watched in disbelief as a mother who looked just like me went in for the field goal and dropped kicked that Elf across the living room.

Mrs. Clause shoots ... and scores.

After a brief stay in the Elf hospital, Jackson is back to work today, Bunny is MIA, and I'm reminded how fiercely human we all are.  Thank goodness for apologies and forgiveness.

And every so often ... egg nog with a little spot of brandy.

hark, the herald angels sing!

I've held off on updating my blog for the past few weeks because:

1) Recovering from surgery has really taken it out of me...

and, 

2) I didn't have any news to share because the pathology report wasn't back yet. 

But today at 5:09 PM, my doctor's office finally called ... after we've called them every single day for the past six days because the results were supposed to be in last week ... and I was told that the preliminary pathology report shows that the tumor they removed was benign.  They're now sending it off to other laboratories (Baylor and MD Anderson) to confirm the results.  

While we're waiting for those reports to come back, and hopefully validate the initial results, I'd like to take a quick moment to reflect on the past few weeks.  

My sister Eileen flew in on Monday, two days before the operation, to lend her moral support.  It was so awesome to have her here, not just because I love my sister and appreciated having her nearby ... but also, she totally helped the children prepare for their 5th grade Science benchmark test.  She also helped with Math. And Social Studies. And Language Arts. And laundry.  She deserves not only a Sister Award, but an Awesome Angel Aunt Homework award. 

Also, before I completely forget, I need to memorialize how when we arrived for surgery on Wednesday morning, as I was signing in, the receptionist looked at Eileen and Charlie and said something to the effect of "How nice it is that both of your parents are with you! Will they be remaining here during the entire operation?" 

Once I gained my composure from the long pause, followed by the hilarious outburst of laughter at my sister and husband's expressions ... I was reading and initialing my surgical orders, which indicated that I needed this brain surgery procedure because my symptom was, and I quote, "Tumor causing giddiness."  

I looked at Eileen and Charlie and said, "Hey Mom and Dad!  Who knew giddiness was a medical condition?!"  Funny moments abound! 

The surgery went well, the right side tumor came out with no apparent problem - and post op, I actually scoffed at the month supply of narcotic pain medication and anti-nausea medication that they prescribed for me.  Being the daughter of a pharmacist, and sister of two pharmacists, it's probably odd that I'm so opposed to taking medication unless absolutely necessary. 

Let's just say THANK GOD Charlie had the prescriptions filled, because within two days - once all the meds they'd given me along with my anesthesia were out of my system - I was a pill popping fool.  And then I was a napping fool because narcotics tend to make you very, very sleepy.  I can't say I remember a lot other than my wonderfully soft pillow between November 20 and December 10th.  

Yes, I know, I know it's not yet December 10th ... but I suspect even this time will be a blur to me because I'm still on pain and anti-nausea medicine. 

Scrolling through photos that the children took using my phone, I see that William polished off a half gallon of egg nog and is preparing himself for Bachelorhood.  

And I do recall hearing that Henry's adorable little soccer team won their final match. 

As of this writing, I'm feeling better, but my ear is troublesome.  The incision was behind the entire length of my right ear; and from what I can tell, they cut it and flipped the whole lobe over to make a 2-inch incision through my mastoid.  My ear lobe is numb, and I 'm almost completely deaf.   I've kept a cotton ball plugged in to it, because although I cannot hear - there's a weird painful pressure whenever it is exposed. 

Also, it pops all the time.  

But the popping is from the inside of my head. And it's loud enough that if I put my cheek next to yours, you can hear it.  It sounds like fireworks.  CRACK! POP! CRACK CRACK PZZZZZ! 

When I sleep at night, if I roll over on that side, the sound and feeling of it wakes me up because even the slightest pressure on the ear makes it sound like I've got Pop Rocks jammed in my ear canal. That in turns wakes Charlie up because I can't contain myself from saying, "COME ON! THIS IS SO GROSSSSSS!!" 

The doctor says my hearing should return in a a few months once the swelling around my auditory nerve subsides, and the popping noise should cease within 6 to 12 months as I continue to heal.  While that is a bit of an inconvenience, it's not totally miserable. 

Actually, it is ... who am I kidding?!

But after receiving my results today that preliminary reports show it as benign, I can assure you that any attempt at curing me of "giddiness" were tremendously unsuccessful. 

 

Within the next few days, I'll post photos of the past two weeks with my wonderful Mother Mary, who flew in and helped me convalesce.  Moms really are the best, and I'm so blessed to have one of the Greats.  I'm also blessed beyond measure to have so many friends that I've met through this blog who have been sending me an abundance of prayers and encouragement.  

Gosh darn it...  I love you guys!   xoxoxo 

our favorite veteran ever

This past March, we embarked on a 3,000-mile road trip from Virginia to Texas, in order to check things out as a family before we made the commitment that we would move south.  My goal was that at the conclusion of the trip, we would have 12 enthusiastic thumbs up.   Seeing as we're now in Texas, I'd say the trip was a success.  But the highlight of the entire trip was a surprise detour we made on our way home.

Now I may have mentioned that my nephew, Tommy, enlisted in the military last year. After thinking that he might go to the Naval Academy, he surprised us all - his mother especially - by deciding that he would instead become a combat medic in the Army.  And so it is, he headed off to basic training at Fort Sill in Oklahoma last August, a mere week after he was with us for our 20-year anniversary on Nantucket.



My children adore their cousin Tommy.  So during his time at basic training, they wrote him several letters, telling him how proud they were of their big cousin:



And they drew him many a picture of encouragement:



Tommy wrote them back:



And also included pictures of encouragement:



To this very day, William still does 100 sit-ups every night, because he knows that Tommy is doing it, too, and he pledged to his cousin that he'd be working out with him.  Following Halloween, the kids talked to several of their friends about donating candy, and we shipped off a package to Tommy that weighed nearly 10 pounds and the parents all agreed, if it had stayed in our houses - would have resulted in us gaining 50 pounds. It's a mass / caloritic ratio mystery ... so yay for 18-year old metabolism and intense PT activities every day!

On our trip home from Texas, we had a bead on Nashville, Tennessee. Our plan was that we'd make a stop and check out a show at the Grand Ole' Opry ... because as luck would have it, The Charlie Daniel's Band was playing.

In the midst of our road trip planning exercises, I received a text message from my sister, Eileen, and she asked where we were.  When I told her that we were heading to Nashville, she excitedly wrote to me that Tommy was at Fort Campbell, Kentucky - which was only an hour away.   And so it is, Charlie and I made the immediate decision that we would forego Charlie Daniel's and drive to Kentucky.  The kids meanwhile, were oblivious to all of this.  We just told them that because it was Tuesday, we'd be having a day of fun "T's".

For lunch, we'd have turkey with iced tea.  And then, we would drive through Tennessee, and stop by the T-Rex museum.  For dinner, we would have a T-bone.  But alas, on our way to the T-Rex museum, we started having terrible car trouble.  Or so the kids thought.  Little did they know, the best "T" surprise was in store.

Here's what happened next (pardon my totally obnoxious voice - I was just so excited!):



On this Veteran's Day ... my heartfelt gratitude goes to the young and old who faithfully, courageously, and willingly serve our country.



We love you, cousin Tommy.   Please (please, please, please x infinity) stay safe out there.