a day in the life (part 1)

When I first started blogging, I actually selected the blog URL "A Day In The Life" although I ended up changing the title to Amazing Trips before I ever made the blog public.

I've always wanted to record a full day in the life but I've never had the mind to do it. Until today. Today, Charlie will be working the first shift - so I'm home with the kids. And I'm interested to capture a full day so that I can one day look back on this and wonder how I ever kept my sanity intact. I'll come back and insert photos in to the posts later because I've got to be efficient if I'm going to do this any justice.

6:03: Henry wakes up. We are trying to wean so Charlie took him out to the couch to sleep for a few minutes while I stayed in bed.

6:12: Charlie fell asleep on the couch. Henry comes in to the bedroom, climbs in to bed and starts nursing. I'm semi-conscious and think that I'm dreaming.

6:39: William is awake looking for his elephant straw. His screaming wakes up the entire house.

6:41: Everyone is awake. Elizabeth is looking for bunny. Carolyn is telling William to BE QUIET. Henry is nursing. Charlie starts getting ready for his day at work. I am summoning strength for the day alone.

6:48: I get dressed and make my way out to the kitchen. The kids have already dressed themselves and helped themselves to breakfast. Elizabeth is a fairy with wings, Carolyn is a ballerina. They have opened cartons of yogurt and dived in to a loaf of bread. I decide that life was a lot easier when the kids were confined to cribs and I could lift them out and put them in highchairs and feed them in an assembly line. The kids start opening random boxes of cereal and I say, "Wait a minute! Let me get it!" and Elizabeth says, "No mom, it's OK, we'll take care of ourselves."

7:14: After a survey of the refrigerator and realization that a lot of our fruit from last week is going bad (which we didn't eat due to the bug), pull stuff out to juice. First, I have to pour cereal for Henry because otherwise, he'll be climbing on chairs and causing a commotion.

For the next 45 minutes, the kids help me peel fruit, sort through bad strawberries, stuff various fruit in to the juicer and then for a few minutes of blessed peace, sit back and in relative quiet, drink fresh juice.

7:25: Charlie grabs a banana and leaves for the day. He is driving to San Clemente for a business meeting at a fancy restaurant. He looks clean and fresh. And very happy. After being home with the children most of the day yesterday, he skips out the front door waving good bye over his shoulder. Before he leaves, he poses with William who has done his best to match his outfit to his father's.

8:04: I'm cleaning up from breakfast and the kids are giving their plastic dinosaurs a bath in the sink and trying to wash each other's hair.

8:15: I finish updating my first segment of the day and am wracking my brain as to what we are going to do today. Must unload dishwasher, make beds, finish cleaning up from breakfast and start a load of laundry.

And then, I have no idea...

dinner

Tilapia. Basmati rice. Whole wheat bread. Organic vegetables and grapes.

The kids ate grapes.

And bread.

Sometimes, I wonder why I even bother.

Oh yes. I'm trying to instill good eating habits in to our children. Although, I think I'd have a better chance of having them calculate the average wing speed velocity of an African swallow than eat a single grain of rice without clutching their throats and falling off the chair.

snack time

Damn Charlie making me a chocolate cake for Mother's Day.

Notice I'm not even putting it on a small plate anymore. I'm eating it right off the plate that my husband frosted it on. This is the reason I can't have sweets in the house. I am absolutely, positively weak and lack ALL self control when it comes to chocolate.

The kids had an afternoon snack of pretzels, apples and mozzarella cheese sticks. I ate this when they weren't looking. I'm due to run a marathon in less than three weeks. So not only am I the model of good health, I am the model of an obsessive compulsive closet eater.

I'm an enigma wrapped in a paradox.

lunch

Chips, homemade guacamole and water.

My stellar eating habits continue.

Aren't you glad that I share so much of my personal life with you?

Now it's your turn. What did you have for lunch today?

breakfast

In case you thought I was kidding.

Seeing as this was a Mother's Day cake, I had to be a good mother and wait until Charlie took the kids out on an errand before I had a piece because I wouldn't want them eating chocolate cake for breakfast. This has nothing to do with my inability to share. I'm just trying to establish the best eating habits I can for our children.

"Yes, the cake is all gone. But children, I ate it because I love you."

I can only hope that all mothers love their children as much I love mine.

favorite thing ... sunday

I meant to write this post on Friday night but well, Charlie and I rented a movie.

(This is a picture from the day I thought it would be a good idea to take two-year-old triplets to the movies by myself while I was eight-months pregnant and needed to use the restroom every 10 minutes. I often refer to this day as the most asinine day of my entire life.)

I would have written this post on Saturday night, but I settled down on the couch with my husband and we watched another movie. Because there are very few things that I enjoy more, in this entire world, then watching a good movie with my beloved while sharing a bowl of popcorn.

Charlie and I are huge movie buffs.

Before we had children, we watched a movie at least three nights a week. We watched movies every weekend. We went out to movies. We rented movies. We watched the Academy Awards with a notepad and pencil in hand so we could write down all the movies that we needed to see.

Once we had children, we took a movie hiatus. We would rent a movie once in a blue moon and the last time we went to the theater together was when Henry was a newborn.

But we missed the anticipation of sitting down for a show with a big bowl of popcorn. We missed watching movies that are so good ... so thought provoking ... they would keep us talking about plots for days. We missed watching movies that were so funny, we would laugh until our sides hurt and incorporate random quotes in to our everyday vernacular.

"Dad is great. He gives us chocolate cake!"

(where's that from?)

For a host of reasons, Charlie and I don't go out on date nights too frequently.

There's the finding a competent babysitting dilemma, the sheer exhaustion we usually feel after a full day dilemma, and the cost of a "fun" night out dilemma. But the number one reason we don't go out very often is because we're a bunch of losers homebodies that would much prefer to spend an evening at the house dilemma.

However. Ever since we upgraded our home theater system at Christmas, we've been watching more movies than we have for the past five years. Still, the whole process of procuring movies was a real chore.

Usually, by the time we realized that we wanted to watch a movie - the kids were all in bed - and it would take far more energy than either one of us possessed to drive down to the video store, peruse the aisles, pick out something that we hoped was worthy of our time, drive home again, and then watch a movie that we would most likely fall asleep midway through.

So this past week, we joined Netflix.

We might be among the last people in the country to have joined this online video rental program, but in the off chance we're not, we are offering up a contest where you could win a one-year subscription to Netflix in exchange for a $1.00 donation to the Tuesday Fiona Whitt Foundation.

I wrote about Tuesday last week before the hellstorm virus hit and before I found out that our beloved Jimbo has pancreatic cancer. If you missed the post, Tuesday is the beautiful two-year-old daughter of Jessica Kate and Charley who lost her battle to neuroblastoma this past January. Every time I read her mother's blog, it feels like my heart has been ripped out of my chest.

So why do I read her blog?

Because I can't look away.

Cancer is bad. I hate it.

Netflix is good. I love it.

Donating money for research that will one day rid the world of cancer is even better. Because no child should ever have to wear a shirt that says this:

For every $1.00 that you donate to the Tuesday Foundation, your name will be entered in to the raffle to win a one-year-subscription to Netflix. Since I'm late joining the party - this particular contest will end on Saturday, May 16.

Click this link and it will take you directly to the fundraiser.



In case you were wondering, this is a $108.00 value.

If you want to be a part of this contest - please be sure to leave your NAME and the amount of your donation on THIS post. For example: "Enter me to win! I want to be your Netflix Movie Buddy!! I'm Jen and my donation amount is $10.00!!"

I'm so excited about our new subscription. How it works is you pick all the movies you would like to watch and put those in to your "queue". From there, Netflix will send you the first movie in queue. Once you watch the movie and return it in a pre-paid envelope, they will send you the next movie you have in queue. There are no late fees. You can have 1 DVD out at a time, and you can exchange them as often as you want.

And, if you win this raffle, you can be our Netflix friend and we can trade comments on the movies that we've watched and enjoy. Charlie is heading up the queue and trust me when I say Charlie has an awesome ability for selecting good movies. Much like he has an awesome ability to do pretty much anything.

Exhibit 1. Check out the cake he made me for Mother's Day.

My husband baked us a chocolate cake.

And tomorrow, we might eat it for breakfast.

for all the moms of the world

This message if for all the moms of the world, regardless of where they may be on the road of motherhood.

Happy Mother's Day to you.

And you.


And you.

Love, The Amazing Trips (& Henry)

all you need is love

I don't know if I ever mentioned it before, but Charlie and I fell in love on a tennis court.

We're both geologists and we graduated from the same program. And the first time I actually met my future husband was a Friday morning after one of my classes when I was exiting the room and he was entering the room. He was campaigning for President of the Geology Club in an upcoming election and he said that he'd pay me $20.00 if I'd vote for him.

I told him if he'd make it $30.00 he had a deal.

We both laughed and I thought he was cute. And funny. And driven, seeing as he was campaigning for President of the Geology Club. And when he won the title by a landslide a few days later, I thought he was smart.

And then, when I joined the geology softball team and he was the Captain and he could hit a ball out of the park and throw a ball from one side of the field to the other and he rescued me from having to "catch" any balls that were hit in my general direction, I realized he was athletic.

And chivalrous.

I was definitely smitten. But true love didn't happen until a few months later when the two of us made it all the way to the finals and played each other for the title of Intramural Singles Champion.

Once upon a time, I was actually a fairly good tennis player.

I had played tennis all through highschool and had lettered my senior year. I received a tennis scholarship to college where I played for two months before severely straining my knee and having to sit out the rest of the season.

By the time I transferred to school in California for what was supposed to be a four month "semester exchange", I hadn't played tennis in at least a year. But, I signed up for the intramural team because I thought it would be a great opportunity for me to get involved again in a sport I had once thoroughly enjoyed.

And as it turns out, I hadn't lost too much of my competitive edge seeing as I made my way all the way to the finals where I played my future husband for the Championship.

(Guess who won?)

I doubt that I ever would have even known the first thing about how to play tennis if not for my mom dragging me out of bed every Saturday morning during my youth and taking me down to some public tennis courts where a small group of people from our church would gather to play.

Every Saturday at 7 AM they would be there.

And so would we.

I was the youngest player by 40 years. Some of the players like Buck and Joe were in their 70's. But I learned a lot. I learned all about scoring and the difference between singles and doubles. I learned how to serve and I perfected my backhand. I learned how to hit lobs and I learned how to dribble a stopped ball up on my racquet.

Those Saturday mornings on the court is where I first met Jim and Pat. This husband and wife duo were not only great tennis players, they were extremely good to my mom and I. Pat spent an exorbitant amount of time standing at the net and coaching me as I hit ball after ball to her and she would patiently give me pointers on my overhead serve.

I remember like it was yesterday, the afternoon that Jim and Pat came over to our house and presented my mother with a brand new Prince graphite tennis racquet. Which, at the time, was the finest tennis racquet known to mankind.

(And which I quickly confiscated borrowed.)

When Charlie and I were married in 1994, Jim and Pat traveled from South Carolina to Massachusetts so that they could attend our wedding. Unfortunately, a few years later, Pat began experiencing complications from breast cancer.

My mother and Pat had always been good friends, but when Pat was ill, they became even closer. With my mother's background in nursing, mom would frequently visit and lend support. She rearranged furniture to make it easier for Pat to get around and when Pat's health began to decline, mom would give her sponge baths and rub her hands and feet with lotion.

I believe it was ten years ago this year that Pat died.

Within a few months of Pat's passing, my mother and Jim began spending time together. They would go see a movie and perhaps have dinner. They'd sit next to each other at church. They'd spend time working on crossword puzzles together. They took a few small trips to the beach and to the mountains. And then in November of 2001, they drove from South Carolina to California to spend Thanksgiving with Charlie and I.

By the time my mother and Jim started spending time together, it had been over 20 years since my parents had divorced. Infact, Jim was the first man my mother had in her life since she divorced my father. I had always wished that my mother would meet someone, but she never did. She didn't want the distraction when I was still living at home. She wasn't ready. She didn't have the time. She just wasn't prepared to share her life at that point.

But then...

There was Jim.

Since she had known him for so many years - and he was such a good friend - the two of them quickly found a comfortable companionship with each other.

A few years ago, Jim proposed to my mother. They are engaged and mom has a diamond ring. They haven't yet tied the knot, but they were spending so much time together that Jim recently sold his house and moved in with my mom. From April through November they live in South Carolina. From November through April they live in Florida. And at various times throughout the year, they will drive up and down the coast to visit family and friends.

Unless my math is wrong, Jim will turn 86 in December. He flew a blimp during World War II. He played basketball at Brown. He has three children and six grandchildren. He has an additional seven children and 20 grandchildren that he inherited from my mother. He has a brother, Bob, who is two and a half years younger that lives in Canada. Every year, for the past thirty plus years, the two brothers have vacationed together in Florida.

Jim is quite possibly the most crazed sports enthusiast on the planet. Lending, I'm sure to the fact that his father and grandfather and uncles were all professional baseball players, the man is completely obsessed with sports. He could watch ESPN from sunrise to sunset. He might take a break to complete the New York Times Crossword Puzzle (in pen), but he'll never lose track of what's happening on the field. It doesn't matter who or what is on. It could be baseball, basketball, football, tennis or hockey.

Heck, it could be preschool ping pong and Jim would be perched on the edge of his seat.

In addition to loving sports, he has more close friends than any man I've ever met. He is still friends with people that he went to grade school with. And although they might live in various parts of the country, he makes every effort to visit them. Frequently.

He loves sports. He loves crosswords. He loves traveling. He loves his friends. He loves reminiscing. He loves laughing. He loves his life. He loves my mom.

And my mom loves him.

And I love that the two of them have spent the past several years together because I believe that their friendship has brought an untold amount of joy, happiness and purpose to their lives.

How is it that my father's health has deteriorated so rapidly?

How is it that my Uncle Bill who was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer and given three months to live four years ago, will be flying to California for a vacation at the end of the month?

How is it that Charlie's 81-year old father Alex, who lost his wife 17-years ago, is currently on a trip to the Bahamas where he is swimming with dolphins?

I think that a large component of a person's happiness and survival depend upon not only having a sense of purpose in life - but having someone that they love and that loves them back. I believe that companionship is important. Because having someone to share your life with - generally speaking - makes living more fun.

Earlier today, Jim was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

I am sickened to think that this wonderful man who I've known for the past 25 years and who helped teach me to play the game that would one day lead me to my husband, must now face this dreadful disease. I am heartbroken because cancer has once again struck someone who is a part of our family. He is my mother's best friend and our children's beloved Jimbo.

Throughout today, I kept reminding myself that Jim has a lot going for him. He has a winning spirit. He has a warm heart. He is kind. He is gentle. He is optimistic. He has a lot of people that care about him and are praying for him.

But perhaps most importantly he has my mom.

Someone that loves him, by his side.

what's in you wednesday

What's in me?

Well, I can tell you what's not in me.

About eight pounds that I've lost since Sunday night.

Across the six of us, I'd guess that we're down close to 30 pounds since Friday. I don't know how that's really possible since we haven't expelled 30 pounds. But surely the scale doesn't lie.

Yesterday when I woke up - and I saw that Charlie was unable to move because he'd been up all night sick - I realized that if I didn't get up and get the kids breakfast, they wouldn't eat. So, I slowly climbed out of bed, made my way to the kitchen and fed my children a meal of bananas and Cheerios that I tossed across their activity table while they sat watching the movie, Ratatouille.

(I should probably add here, for those unfamiliar with the movie, this storyline has to do with a rat who dreams of becoming a chef in a five-star French restaurant. He teams up with a down-and-out garbage boy and together they become the greatest chef in Paris.)

Although it might not seem like much, preparing for and serving this great feast completely drained me. So while the kids were scarfing down their breakfast, I settled down on the couch with Henry, where I promptly fell asleep.

I don't know exactly how much time lapsed but I awoke a short while later to the whispers of children hushing each other, "Shh! You gonna wake up Mommy! It's a supwise!!" and the smell of something I couldn't quite place.

Was it cinnamon?

Maybe pepper?

Perhaps dill weed?

A little bit of cumin?

There was definitely curry.

Lots of curry.

Because of the virus that had been ravaging my gastrointestinal system, I felt instantly overwhelmed by the strong smell and was terribly nauseous. I put the baby down and grabbing a hold of the arm rest on the couch, pulled myself up. Once the room stopped rocking and with one hand touching the wall, I staggered in to the kitchen.

It took a moment for my eyes to register the sight before me.

There were empty gourmet spice containers all over the counter and broken on the floor. There were of puddles of something pungent across the counter and tables. While Henry was grabbing at my leg and crying to be picked up, William and Elizabeth were positively beaming.

They grabbed my hands and ushered me in to the room saying, "Mommy! Welcome to our KITCHEN! We are Ratatouille! We've been cooking and we made you a special cake for your birthday!"

The children had me several "cakes" using whatever food that they could find, most notably anything that we've been eating since this virus has hit the house and we've been living off the BRAT (bananas, rice, apple sauce and toast) diet. They took a moment from pointing their creations out to tell me, "We are your little rats!"

I just smiled and agreed, "Yes, you SURE are."

To create their masterpieces, the kids had employed the use of our grater, melon ball scoop, ice cream scoop, all of their little pots and pans and every single spice that they could reach while standing on their tippy toes on the children's chairs they had shoved up to the counters.

The first cake was several pieces of bread with a banana on top. There was a cake that was a saltine covered in pumpkin spice, dill weed, pretzels and pepper with a heavy splash of apple juice. There was a cake comprised of a squashed banana delicately overlain by curry, a half cup of Kosher salt, and cumin with a 1/2 bottle of orange Gatorade.

Oozing out of the oven was another batch of "cakes" that they had spilled when placing on the racks. These cakes were made with ice cubes, cumin, bread, grapes, apple sauce, rice, ginger, oregano and pepper. They had set the oven to bake at 300 degrees, but fortunately, they didn't know to hit the "Start" button or else I'm sure the mere smell of the concoction brewing in the oven would have resulted in the immediate expulsion of an additional eight pounds.

While I stood there, surveying the damage, something miraculous occurred.

I kid you not, people.

Over a matter of seconds, the cloak of illness and fatigue that had plagued me for 38 hours was instantly shed. I don't know how to explain it except to say that I could actually feel good health rushing in to my veins and flowing throughout my body. The fog in my brain cleared. My stomach settled down. The pounding headache dissolved, taking the body aches and cramps with it.

Within a minute ... perhaps two ... I was healed.

Now, I'm not sure if my prayers were suddenly answered and God took pity ... or if various substances when merged together by four-year-old hands have an aromatic healing power ... or if my mind rapidly communicated with my body HOLY SMOKES LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENS when two parents are leveled with the flu and small children who think they are rodents that can cook take control of the house.

But whatever the case, the virus that I thought was going to kill me just five minutes earlier, was instantly squelched.

For the rest of the day, I set about cleaning and sanitizing. Because even though I had already cleaned and sanitized the house thoroughly on Saturday, I spent all day Sunday holding a sick baby and all day Monday sick in bed while Charlie took care of four sick children.

By Tuesday, it looked and felt like a dirty infirmary flipped upside down and coated in cumin. I mopped floors, changed all of the linens, washed an untold number of dishes, wiped down surfaces and completed ten loads of laundry. And then, when I put Carolyn down for the night and she threw up all over her sleeping sister (and the fresh sheets that were on the bed), I started my eleventh load of laundry.

In 25 days, I am due to compete in a marathon.

Last week at this time I was intimidated.

But this week, I know that if I can survive yesterday, I can survive anything.

this is bad

William and Elizabeth were violently sick on Friday.

On the mend Saturday.

Henry woke up sick on Sunday morning.

William and Elizabeth were feeling better on Sunday before relapsing, Sunday night.

I was sick late Sunday night - early Monday morning.

I was violently sick all day Monday.

Carolyn and Charlie were skipping around the house telling everyone they'd take care of us throughout the day, Monday.

Carolyn started throwing up Monday afternoon, every 10-15 minutes.

Charlie looked like a deer in the headlights.

He knew he was next.

The bug hit Charlie hard at 1:11 AM Tuesday morning.

Quick recap.

Today is Tuesday.

Everyone is sick. This has never happened before where every person in the house - specifically - both parents are incapacitated. I can't stand up for more than 15 seconds without feeling like I am going to pass out. Charlie is completely horizontal. Carolyn is completely horizontal. William and Elizabeth are feeling better, but still unable to eat and are perfectly content laying in bed. Henry is sick but doesn't realize that he is sick and runs around the house getting in to things. Like a toilet brush from the bathroom that someone left the door open to ... and a razor from Charlie's drawer that I just found him chewing on.

I don't want to have anyone come over for fear that we are dealing with the plague. I definitely wouldn't want to expose anyone to this highly contagious virus. We have a load of food in the house since I went shopping on Thursday. Laundry can wait. And I am doing a fine job crawling around on my hands and knees.

Rest assured, there is good news.

Our refrigerator was fixed yesterday for *only* $400.00. The repairman said that had it been the compressor, it would have cost $900.00.

So, at least we have ice chips.

the world around us

A few weeks ago, Charlie and I rented the movie Slumdog Millionaire.

For several days after we watched the movie, we discussed the intense poverty that so many people in the world experience. We discussed the unimaginable living conditions and the orphaned children that were forced to look out for themselves from a very young age.

We discussed how people in this situation are so vulnerable because they are easy targets for violence and manipulation and that cycle of violence and manipulation can so easily perpetuate in to the future without intervention.

When we went to visit with our friends the gardeners last weekend, our friend told us that perhaps part of the reason his wife tolerates their living conditions is because she is from India. She was born and raised for much of her life in a third world country. She has been surrounded by - and a part of - some of the most severe poverty conditions on earth.

She doesn't mind that her shower is moldy. She doesn't mind that there is dust on the table, or spider webs on the ceiling. She doesn't mind that her children don't pick up their toys or wear the same clothes today that they had on yesterday.

And might still be wearing, tomorrow.

Having a clean house isn't a necessity for her. It never has been. What's important is that they are alive and safe. They are fed and warm. They are healthy. They know that they will have a bed to sleep in tonight and they will have food on the table when they wake up in the morning. They know that they love each other and they are free from violence.

What else is important?

What else is really important?

Perhaps it's because the movie Slumdog Millionaire is still so fresh in my mind - or perhaps it's because of the visit with our friends this past weekend - my head has been spinning with the absolute bare minimum that it takes to get by in life.

Over the past week, I've been following several bloggers who have been recording their experiences as they travel with Compassion International to India.

The stories that they've posted on their blogs have moved me more than I expected. Each time I would click over to read what they had seen during the day, I was moved to tears. Not just tears in my eyes, but sob tears. That oh dear God, people live this way?

How?

I hear the stories. I see the pictures. I watch the movies. I cringe over the horror of desperate poverty. But soon, I forget, because it's not part of my every day reality. I don't think about it because it's not my immediate problem. I have my own life to live. I've got a career and future to contemplate.

For the past several months, I had been planning to sponsor a child in an impoverished part of the world. My plan was to actually sponsor four children, one for each of ours. My plan was that our children would write letters and send pictures and small gifts to the children that we are sponsoring. We would learn about that part of the world where our sponsored children lived, and in return, our children would develop a compassionate heart.

But I forgot.

Now, I truly believe that a good deed doesn't count if you tell the world about it. But when I recently read that 10.5 million children will die as a result of conditions induced by poverty this year, I felt like I had to do something right away. And now, I can't stop myself from telling the world about the four new children that we are honored to sponsor.

This is Eti from Bangladesh. She was born on October 13, 2004, the day before William, Carolyn and Elizabeth.

This is Elvis from Peru. He shares the same birthday as Henry, but was born three years earlier.

This is Ankit from India. One day William and Ankit will go research (chase) bears together. Ankit doesn't know this yet, but William has it all planned out.

This is Charity from Uganda. Elizabeth has already painted a picture for her that we will be mailing out soon.

All of these children were born in 2004. It is my plan that our children will grow up knowing the children that we are sponsoring. It is my goal that our children will form a lifelong relationship with the children who we have sponsored and their lives will be transformed in a positive way, because of each other.

It is my goal that we will never forget again.

If the spirit moves you to sponsor a child that desperately needs support, this is an organization that I would highly recommend.

**********

Several months ago, I found a blog written by a woman whose daughter, Tuesday, was battling neuroblastoma. Within a few days of my discovering her blog, little Tuesday died.

Tuesday was two-years-old when she passed away. She had been diagnosed with cancer only eight months prior. She left behind a heart broken mother and father, two older brothers and an identical twin sister.

I know how my heart breaks when my children have the stomach flu.

Watching your baby suffer and die from cancer?

There are no words.

This coming Tuesday - May 5 (Cinco de Mayo) - a blog party will be hosted in an effort to raise funds for Pediatric Cancer Research. The money raised from donations will be funneled directly to neuroblastoma reseach, which is purportedly, the least funded of all cancers. I've posted a button on the top left corner of my blog that will take you directly to the blog party.

If the spirit moves you, please pop over and make a donation for a critically important cause. Or, if you feel compelled to offer up some type of prize that could be entered in to the blog party, please drop Debi an e-mail. If I can convince Charlie to offer up one more prize, I might have another raffle up within the next few days with donations benefiting Pediatric Cancer Research.

Who needs a scarf?

**********

I met with my boss for lunch on Friday afternoon to conduct my annual review.

Because I was out on maternity leave during the annual reviews in 2008, the last time I met with my boss to discuss my performance and career path, I was incubating our fourth child.

Within the past two years, in addition to adding a new member to our family, the value of our home has dropped by 50%. A large percentage of the equity that we had in our house has almost completely evaporated.

Add to that, yesterday I received my retirement account statement and it appears that the steady growth I have witnessed for the past 15 years of working and saving, has taken a sharp nosedive and my 401K has been reduced to a 201K.

(I'd like take a moment to interject here how really [really, really] glad I am that I wasn't planning to retire in five years.)

When I met with my boss two years ago, my job was completely stable and using forecast software, my job would remain stable for at the next 20 years.

Since 2007, my company has made a number of decisions that may result in the phase out of my position within the next three to five years. Maybe sooner. Of course the option exists that I could accept a new position and we could move. But my new job would be in an office. And the flexibility that we have now would be gone.

So there I sat with my boss on Friday.

Slightly amazed that my current position is not indefinite, like I once thought it was. Slightly shocked that a large portion of the financial security we had two years ago has vaporized. Slightly overwhelmed of what the future holds and what our next steps will be.

But when I take a moment to reflect on what is happening in the world around me, everything falls in to perspective.

We are alive and safe. We are fed and warm. We are healthy. We know that we will have a bed to sleep in tonight and we will have food on the table when we wake up in the morning. We are part of a loving family and we are free from violence. We don't have a working ice maker at the moment. But what else is important?

What else is really important?

Oy vey. As soon as I typed that last sentence, the virus has hit me. So I think I'll conclude that having my mother live next door is suddenly very important.

(And I just noticed it is now Monday. Once again, I was right.)

sunday morning

Charlie's theory that the apples made the children ill has been rejected.

Henry, who didn't eat any apples, is now sick. So my original theory that this is a virus that will eventually sweep through the entire family has been restored.

The problem with a toddler who has the stomach flu is that they don't know to grab a bowl at the right moment. It is sufficient to say, the floors that I cleaned so thoroughly yesterday are now in need to be cleaned again.

(Oh, and William was wide awake and bouncing off the walls at 3:11 this morning. Just as I suspected. Sometimes, I hate it when I'm right.)

saturday in pictures

I think Charlie was right in his assumption that the apples were to blame.

More than twenty-four hours later, William and Elizabeth remain the only two people in our family to have become violently sick. Considering they both fell ill within minutes of each other and their symptoms are virtually identical and they were the only ones to have eaten the apples, I therefore to and hereunder concede that the flippin apples, as my brilliant husband initially suggested, are indeed, the most plausible culprit of the sickness that has struck our house.

I called Costco this morning to let them know that we suspect apples purchased in their store were bad and had likely caused food poisioning in our children. They had not received any other calls, so either we're totally off base, the contaminated batch was very small, or any other people who get sick don't make the connection back to the apples.

If I suspected that the kids needed medical treatment, I absolutely would have brought them to the hospital. But seeing as they were able to tolerate fluids today and are doing noticeably better, I decided the safest bet was to keep them home where they could rest. I definitely didn't want to drag them to an emergency room where they could be exposed to the swine flu. Especially since I've been to the doctor on too many occasions and sat in the emergency room for hours and hours on end, only to be told that everything that I was doing at home was correct and that these things have to just run their course.

Oh, and that will be $100.00 per child because this is an after hour emergency thankyouverymuch.

When both William and Elizabeth were wide awake at 6:30 this morning, I suspected that they were feeling completely better. I was definitely surprised at their energy levels considering they didn't fall asleep until midnight - after having spent the prior eight hours throwing up every 10 to 15 minutes.

William climbed in to bed at 6:30 and happily announced that he wanted pancakes for breakfast. Elizabeth jumped in to bed a few minutes later and declared that she wanted sausage, too. And then, a couple minutes after that, they stopped talking and started clutching their stomachs in agony. Because just the talk of food was enough to cause another upset.

They stayed in our bed for the better part of the morning watching cartoons.

And were later joined by a perfectly healthy Henry and Carolyn.

Henry took a break from watching cartoons to ambush a basket of nicely folded laundry that had yet to be put away. I snapped this picture off a milli-second before Charlie yelled at me, "JEN! PUT DOWN THAT CAMERA AND STOP HIM!!"

(My husband has NO idea what it means to capture a moment on film.)

While the triplets were contentedly watching Special Agent Oso, my husband felt compelled to tell me the flaws with this particular character. How is it that Special Agent Oso who has highly advanced equipment and can spot a child who loses a wheel on their bicycle - is unable to identify terrorists who detonate bombs in a crowd of people?

After I listened for a grueling five minutes to my husband dissecting Disney's newest preschool television character, who in his opinion isn't really all that O So Special ... I kindly asked if he would please take the toddler that was climbing on the bed - and smacking his sick siblings in their heads with their puke bowls - to the grocery store because our bendy straw supply needed restocking.

And when you're sick ... you've got to have bendy straws.

I then turned my attention to cleaning out the refrigerator and freezer which have completely ceased working. Considering I spent almost $300.00 at Costco on Thursday, I can't tell you how thankful I am that we have two freezers. Because otherwise, there would be coolers with food packed on ice in every corner of our house.

Today in the midst of my refrigerator/freezer cleaning spree, I threw several things away. Including a bottle of Jägermeister that has never been open but has accompanied me with every move for the past 16 years.

Seeing as I am the anti-pack rat, I have no idea why I would hold on to something that long. I must have picked up this trait from my mother who once had a tin of SPAM in her refrigerator for 10 years. I suppose it sometimes happens when you know something isn't going to go bad - you just leave it there and think, "Maybe one day I'll be in the mood for some delicious canned ham."

Now I'm just holding hope that tomorrow a long lost friend won't drop by and say, "You know what I'd really love is a shot of ice cold Jägermeister. You wouldn't happen to have any ... would you?!"

Thank goodness for the fridge and freezer thermometer. If not for this little gadget, I might have been really confused as to why a gallon of water from our ice maker spilled all over my feet when I opened the door.

It was warmer inside our freezer than it was outside, today.

Once I finished cleaning out the refrigerator and freezer and transferring any salvageable food to our outside refrigerator and freezer, I set about cleaning the house. Because when any one gets sick, I get the overwhelming urge to sanitize. (Unless I'm the one to get sick. And then I get the overwhelming urge to lay on the couch and complain loudly.)

So I got down on my hands and knees with a brush and scrubbed the baseboards, cabinets and floors. With a bucket of diluted bleach and a can of Lysol, I washed down every possible surface that might harbor germs. I cleaned the windows, the blinds, the light switches, the door knobs and the trashcan.

Seeing as Carolyn was feeling good, and I genuinely enjoy seeing little handprints all over our mirrors, she helped. While wearing her Christmas outfit.

(I never would have dreamed that I'd get such mileage out of those dresses.)

Charlie set about reassembling the carseats that had been covered in puke. He took a break to tell me how much he loves our Britax. We own another brand carseat that we keep in Charlie's truck and compared to the Britax, they are junky.

Our Britax have been taken apart, washed and reassembled numerous times. They are comfortable. They are secure. They are easy to disassemble and clean. And seeing as they have held our children since they were tiny infants - up until they weigh 60 pounds - they are the only carseats we will ever need.

When Charlie had been at the store (shopping while hungry), he couldn't resist a sale that was being offered on breakfast cereal. Clearly he had another of these moments. Because after he opened the box and poured himself a huge bowl full, he declared - not surprisingly - Cap'n Crunch doesn't taste as AWESOME as it did 25 years ago.

"They must have changed the way they make it. I mean, this stuff tasted great! Wait a minute. Let me see that box... surely it can't be me ..."

What else happened today?

Elizabeth sipped on Coca Cola (helps with nausea) from a baby can.

William sipped on Gatorade (helps restore electrolytes) from a big bottle.

The mere action of standing in the kitchen and drinking fluids, completely knocked the kids out. So Elizabeth retreated to bed.

And William retreated to the couch.

We put Henry down for a nap and while three of her siblings slept, Carolyn had the undivided attention of both her parents. She was on CLOUD NINE.

She hosted a tea party.

(Note pinky finger correctly extended).

Then she hosted a birthday party...

For her dad.

Then, she took off an errand to Home Depot with her dad to pick up some wood for fence repairs Charlie will be making, tomorrow.

Soon after returning home, the kids started to wake up - and Carolyn not quite ready to relinquish the undivided attention she had been receiving - decided that she was terribly sick and needed to lay down with a blue bowl.

But oh!

When her siblings went to watch Cinderella, she was miraculously healed.
For the next three hours, the kids laid on the couch and watched movies.

Then, William and Elizabeth went back to bed and took naps.

Both kids feel asleep at around 2 PM. Elizabeth slept until 6. When I returned home from church at 7:45, William was still asleep in our bed. The bed (and William) were drenched because he had fallen asleep almost six hours earlier after having consumed 24 oz of Gatorade.

I woke him up to stick on a Pull-Up and put him in some clean pajamas. I then put him in to his own bed at 8:30. He opened his eyes once to tell me he was tired and fell right back to sleep. Since he's been sleeping soundly since 2 this afternoon, I suspect he will be wide awake, fully healed, and ready to take on the world by no later than 3 AM.

I should probably lock our bedroom door and wear ear plugs.

a flippin nightmare

Charlie arrived home at 4:00 this afternoon. William has been sick to his stomach every 10-15 minutes since that time and Elizabeth has been sick to her stomach at almost the exact same time as her brother. As soon as he starts - she starts. Or vice versa. These poor kids have been violently sick for the past seven hours. They are sweating profusely, throwing up what appears to be blood and unable to sleep.

I don't remember them ever being as sick as they are right now.

Thinking hard. Thinking hard.

No, this one definitely takes the cake.

Once we tucked all the kids in to bed, Charlie and I retreated to the living room to fold several loads of laundry. During our folding, we were trying to figure out when and where the kids could have picked up this virus. Although I think it probably came from an outing that we took yesterday to the Nature Center, Charlie thinks that they have food poisioning from a pre-sliced bag of organic apples I bought yesterday from Costco.

While Charlie was working through what the kids ate while they were out today, he realized that William and Elizabeth were the only two that had eaten apples. They were so hungry, they actually ate both bags of apples, by themselves.

"So, what you're telling me is that you think they got sick from the apples?"

"Yeah. That's what I'm saying. I just know that those flippin apples are what made them sick."

With that, my husband took out the box of pre-sliced apples from the refrigerator that I had just bought yesterday and slam dunked them in to the trash.

"Whoa tiger! Hang on a second. You have NO IDEA if the kids got sick from eating apples. Currently, only two members of our family are sick and although you may believe that is enough evidence, until 24 hours pass and we can see whether or not anyone else falls ill, you have nothing more to support your theory. By the way, do you have any idea how expensive pre-sliced organic apples are? They're two flippin bucks a bag so you need to get those apples out of the flippin trash post haste."

Charlie dug the apples out of the trash and while he was putting them back in the refrigerator, he happened to see that water was dripping out of our icemaker. He pulled open the door on the adjoining freezer and noticed that the temperature had risen to 50 degrees.

As we unloaded all of the food that I had just bought from our inside freezer to our outside freezer, I could hear my husband mumbling about the flippin appliances that are always flippin failing on us. But just then, the kids were sick again and Charlie was distracted from the flippin appliances long enough to launch in to another attack on the flippin apples.

I have no idea what to think. Thus far, no one else shows any signs of being sick so maybe this is food poisioning. Regardless, I hope it will be limited to only two because I don't think I could handle any one else throwing up every 10 to 15 minutes.

Oh, and did I mention all of our ice cream melted?

Flippin great.

I'm off to bed.

I just know it's going to be a long night.

there goes another weekend

While I worked today, Charlie took the kids to the zoo.

He arrived home a shortwhile ago. When he pulled in to the driveway, he called me from his cell phone in the car. "William threw up all over the place as I was driving down the freeway."

I ran outside to meet him.

Henry was awake, the triplets were all asleep.

I brought Henry in to the house while Charlie sat with the kids. Carolyn woke up a few minutes later and came inside, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. William woke up a few minutes after that and came in to the house crying, "I THROWED UP!" and then he continued to do so.

While Charlie was helping William and I was trying to keep Henry and Carolyn out of the way, Elizabeth woke up and started crying from the car. We ran out to check on her and she had thrown up all over the inside of the van.

Henry was grabbing at my leg and crying to be held and Carolyn was putting her face directly next to her sister while she wretched and exclaimed, "Huh. Now it looks like Elizabeth is sick, too. Look, I see a strawberry from lunch!"

If past experience dictates how this is going to go down, Henry will be sick by tonight. Carolyn will be sick by tomorrow. Charlie will be sick by Sunday. God willing, this bug will skip entirely over me, because otherwise, I'll be sick on Monday morning.

The first day of my first full week back to work.

This might be a sign.

hold on tight

I am due to return to work full-time on May 1.


A quick check of my calendar reveals that May 1 is tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

As in, the next time the sun rises in the eastern sky.

How are we going to manage this, do you ask?

Well. Um. Let's see.

Charlie is going to significantly reduce his work schedule from 32 hours a week to around 24 hours a week. (Although that doesn't seem very significant does it?)

He was planning to reduce his work schedule from 32 hours a week to 8 hours a week but his boss said that if he did that, they'd have to shut down his office. And seeing as he'd like to still to have an office - particularly since he has someone that works full-time for him - that arrangement would be no good at all. Especially for the guy that works for Charlie.

So, the current plan is that Charlie will work two half days per week and one full day per week in the office. Then, he'll work a few additional hours at home, at night. Within the next few weeks, he hopes to hire an additional person to help ease his work load. As for me, I will work two half days per week, two full days per week and I'll be doing work at night, too.

Thankfully, we have very flexible jobs.

But seeing as I currently manage around 30 projects in San Diego County and will be picking up approximately 30 (or 40 or 50) more projects in Riverside County, I know that I'll be busy in between playing with children and training for a marathon and knitting baby blankets and sleeping and blogging.

(Of course I'll keep blogging. I may as well give up oxygen.)

Although there once was a time when Charlie could have taken over my job ... and there was once a time when I could have continued working part-time indefinitely ... neither of those options are currently available due to some changes with my company's management.

When my boss asked me last week how we are going to manage this, I told him that we are going to do the best we can alternating schedules during the week. Much like we do, now. When he further asked if we were going to bring in a nanny or put the kids in preschool, I said "No!"

Because... I think that it would be too much for any one person to come and stay in our house for eight or more hours a day without taking the children out to a park or play dates.

Because ... I think it would be too much for our children to stay in the house for eight or more hours a day without going out to a park or play dates.

Because ... I don't feel comfortable with some one other than Charlie or I taking all four of our children out of the house to a park or play dates. Or anywhere for that matter that involves travel in a car.

Because ... I don't like the idea of putting all four of our children in daycare - or preschool - for eight plus hours a day. Or six plus hours a day. Or ... at all.

Because ... even though we could afford the $3,000.00+ tuition that would be required for all four of our children to be in daycare if we were both working full-time, our children would be gone from home for the entire day.

Because ... we've already done the whole "kids are gone from home for the whole day" thing before and it was terribly difficult on all of us.

Fortunately, we both don't need to work in order to make ends meet. And if this schedule proves to be too difficult for us to manage effectively, we will make adjustments as necessary.

But we both determined long ago that the best arrangement for our family - psychologically and financially - is if both Charlie and I have the outlet of working a few days a week. And although there certainly are times when I've considered giving up my career completely, my company has made that very difficult for me to do.

For the past four and a half years, my company has granted me an amazing amount of flexibility to work part-time. Minus those two years that I took off on maternity leave. But now my time is up and I must return to work full-time.

At least until we have another baby.

Because life just isn't exciting enough around here.