A weekend McKay will not likely forget

Our Memorial Day weekend was definitely, shall we say, a memorable one.

It started off with a literal bang when McKay crashed his bike on the street Friday afternoon, leaving (in his words) "a three-foot trail of blood and skin behind him."

He was wearing his helmet, which left his head in tip-top shape. We can't say the same thing for his knees and elbows, however.

Saturday was spent at a water park that masquerades as our city pool. It really is fantastic. Sometime I need to take my camera along with me so you can see what I mean. Giant water slides, a lazy river, diving pool, and watery playground. All within two minutes of our front door.

I'm pretty sure if they had beds there, our family would permanently move in every summer.

Sunday, the boys joined scout troops from all over Missouri to place flags on every soldier's grave at Jefferson Barracks. It was a profoundly patriotic experience for them both, despite McKay and a little incident involving vomit.

The poor kid really hasn't felt good all weekend, but we dragged him there anyway. Mostly to appease his brother, who was in tears that anyone would miss an opportunity to pay their respects to the veterans.

Have I mentioned that Chase LOVES the veterans? So much so, that he tried to donate the entire contents of my checking account to the Marine Corp veterans taking donations outside our grocery store on Saturday.

I had to help Chase see that a few dollars was good enough, though I am fairly confident he was not convinced.




Monday was spent at the movie theater seeing Night at the Museum, part two. (Our take: Not as funny as the original, but still made us laugh. Especially the Darth Vader/Oscar the Grouch part).

Poor Mack sat feverish and clammy through the entire show. I was prepared though, and brought a giant Ziploc bag, you know, just in case.

Luckily, we didn't need it.

Monday morning brought more vomiting, fevers, and a sharp pain in McKay's right side. Thus, Monday afternoon and evening was spent most memorably at the E.R. getting a CT scan to rule out appendicitis.

Scans came back negative (thank goodness) and after many hours spent watching Sponge Bob from a scratchy hospital chair, we were sent home with anti-nausea medicine and paperwork on gastroenteritis (which is really just a fancy word for stomach virus).

Stay tuned tomorrow for the concert tickets winner and pictures of a pretty exciting annual event around here involving Chase, the Husband, and a barber.

Heaven help me.

This one's for you, Peter Skeever

On Tuesday of this week, our Crazy Uncle Pete (as is he affectionately called around here) was hit by a car while riding his bicycle to work. He went flying, landed on his head, and was knocked unconscious. The woman who hit him got out of her car, shrieked, and promptly drove away.

Yes, leaving him injured, unconscious, and alone. Not even sure if she had left him alive.

Thank heavens some witnesses to the accident called the ambulance, and Pete was rushed to a nearby hospital. He suffered a broken neck, broken back, sprained ankle, beat up face, and broken front tooth. He is not paralyzed, but will be recovering for MONTHS.

The person who did this has yet to come forward and own up to it.

Instead of focusing on the blinding rage I feel when I think about her cowardice, I am channeling my energy to well wishes for Pete and a little reminder for all you. My friends, when he landed on his head, his helmet split in two. Had he not been wearing one, well, I can't really even bring myself to think about what might have been.

The helmet literally. saved. his. life.

Please, please, please, wear your helmets. Make your kids wear their helmets. It only takes a minute, and can mean the different between being here today and not being here tomorrow. As a mother who has gotten a little lax herself when it comes to this, I can tell you, we will not be making that mistake again.

And hang in there, Pete. We're all praying for you here.

We heart these Idaho spuds of ours

Hello? Hello? Is there anybody out there?

Yeah, yeah, I know. Pink Floyd, I am not. But I am back and I've got lots to share with you.

Last week, we spent a lovely few days with this beautiful family:


My brother, Craig, and his family came for a little visit. His wife, Laura, is the sister I never got and always wanted. I LOVE her to pieces. She totally gets me. We stayed up until the wee hours chatting, pontificating, You Tubing, and cookie dough eating. Pretty much my four favorite things EVER.

We also took them to some of our favorite St. Louis sites. Like the new Five Guys restaurant, (which we love!), and which really isn't helping me any with the matter of my chubby thighs. They fell in love with it, too. And there's nothing like traveling all the way from Rexburg, Idaho to eat potatoes that are brought in from, yep, Rexburg, Idaho.

Only here in Missouri, we don't actually know how to spell "Rexburg," as you can see.

My children begged and pleaded to be kept home from school, and, good mother that I am, I used that as leverage to get them to do my bidding for an entire day. Nothing like a little motivation, eh?

Heh, heh. Suckers.

Of course, in the end, I let them stay home from school, and we had a blast at the science museum, the zoo, the park, and terrorizing the old people in our neighborhood.

Please come back soon, you Idaho spuds. It was so fun hanging out with you guys.

Plus, I could really use some leverage over these children around here. They seem to have lost their desire to do my bidding.

Stinkers.

Bliss

I am startled out of sleep by the loud, merciless beeps. It is chilly this morning, and the tiny warm body in my bed is snuggled up close, stealing my body heat. I smile at her tangled mass of hair and wonder how she makes that perfect rock star hair in her sleep. I sigh and hit the snooze button at least three times before I can force myself out from under the warm covers.

I strip down and stand on the scale. I smile, for today it has been kind to me. I pull on the workout gear and slip into my pink, fuzzy slippers. I plod down the hall to wake the boys. As usual, they are already up. Up, at the crack of dawn.

Just like their father.

I chuckle and shake my head in awe, not comprehending how it is they manage to wake so early every day. And do it so cheerfully, too.

At breakfast, their sleepy faces start to light up as they speculate about the upcoming day. I take the morning poll and find out who is bringing and who is buying. I can almost always predict this, even without asking. Today they all surprise me and want to bring.

I suspect it has something to do with the pan of brownies on the counter.

I do dishes. I pack lunches. I blow dry the now smooth and very un-rock star-like hair. I smile and listen as she chatters on about every boy and girl in her class. I love her endless chatter, and silently wonder if everyone is lucky as I am.

I tie shoes. I zip backpacks. I look over and notice that both boys have a peanut butter smile on their cheeks. I laugh and send them in for a wash. I wipe counters. I sweep floors. I give hugs. I give kisses. I miss them already.

I stand at the door and wave. I watch the big, yellow bus take them from me, as it does each morning. I pray in my heart for their safety and happiness, as I do hundreds of times a day.

I sigh, content.

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

A perfect match

Have you ever found someone you connect with on such a profound level that you immediately begin to wonder if somehow you just might be related?

Well, I had that experience over the Christmas holidays.

And the best part? We ARE related. We just haven't seen each other in a really, really long time.

This is my cousin, Liz. [please ignore my giant head in this picture]

She and her family came to visit us over the Christmas break. Neither one of us knew what to expect, as we have not spent much time together as adults. Sure, we got along great as kids. But back then I was the cool, older cousin with big bangs and pegged jeans. Now? I'm just the older, fatter cousin with a muffin top and three kids. What if we had nothing to talk about?

Well, we had plenty to talk about.

We had a blast. The kids immediately became fast friends, and the husbands chatted it up while bonding over the football. She and I stayed up late, laughing, joking, and never once running out of things to say.

It was a little eerie, though, how similar our families are. Our kids were a perfect match for each other.

Her oldest is a polite, tender-hearted bookworm, who is very eager to please. Just like my oldest.
Her second child is spunky, curious, energetic, and passionately creative. Just like my second child.

Her daughter is a sweet, pink-loving princess who can climb trees with the boys, but also happens to be a devout Dancing Queen fan.

Just like my daughter.

Her baby boy is a chubby ball of content, smiling love who never once cried in the three days we drooled over him.

My baby boy is...oh, wait.

I don't have a baby boy.

Sorry. Got a little carried away there, what with the similarities between our two families and all. But I could not have hand picked better friends for my kids. It truly was the icing on the cake for our holiday break. We were so sad to see them go.

The kids have not stopped talking about their new cousins, and I am thrilled to have connected with my cousin. Thanks for everything, guys. We can't wait to get together again soon.

Which we will. Because when you find people you like this much? You just have to get some more time with them. And soon.

Ghosts of Christmas Past

Last week, my friend Annie did a post in which she revisited the ghosts of Christmas past -- in card form. It was so fun to walk down memory lane with her.

And since there are no gorgeous, half-nekkid, singing men to post about today, I thought I'd take you on a walk down our family's memory lane. On seeing these old cards, I found myself full of emotion. Some of them made me laugh, and some made me cringe. But most of them simply made me smile, and I caught myself wiping a tear or two away, as I wistfully noticed just how big my babies have gotten lately.

First up is our Christmas card from 1999. In this picture, McKay was about 21 months old, and Chase was probably two months old. The Husband traveled out of town every week, Monday through Friday, for a year-and-a-half during this period of time. It was tough. It was definitely the first test of my independence as a wife and mother.

I must have fared rather well, as he is still traveling up a storm today, and I don't find it nearly as hard.

Please note that a child ABSOLUTELY had to be placed in front of my body, as I was not yet recovered from the pregnancy weight gain and looked like a bloated cream puff, held up by thighs the size of tree trunks.

I also had really bad hair. Kind of like right now.

The next card is from 2000. This photo was actually taken in Seattle, right before we moved to Boston. McKay was two, and Chase was not yet one. This angelic photo was just weeks before THE INCIDENT. Oh, if we only could travel back in time. What we'd tell ourselves, no?

And, at this time, I was still quite the porker, and couldn't risk long-distance friends and family seeing that.

Just in time for Christmas of 2001, I was five months pregnant with Hannah. That fact alone explains away the absence of a family picture. Do you sense a theme here? [Quit judging. You know you do it, too.]

This was also our way of announcing the impending arrival:

[Please note her due date. Her actual birthday is April 25th. Why couldn't my babies be born on-time? WHY? Was that simple request too much to ask? UGH.]

In 2002, I was finally part of the picture again. Not because I was trim and slim, but because it had been so many years, and I worried people would think I had run off with the mailman.

Which, I'll be honest, I considered at times. Having three kids in four years will do that to you.

Skipping ahead to 2005. Here, we sent our first "top ten list." I kept a journal handy and wrote down funny things the kids said throughout the year, and we had them printed on the inside of our card.


It's become a tradition we still do today. The funniness factor, I think, was maxed out two years ago, in 2006, when some of our top ten items were:


"Dad, if you get pulled over one more time, you're getting a van." (Chase)

"But I just can't find a man to fall in love with." (Hannah)

"The directions don't tell you a damn thing!" (McKay)

"Be a peacemaker or I will stab you." (Chase)

"You should never get mad at me because I am so pretty." (Hannah)

Yeah, we'll totally never top that. Best top ten list ever.

So stay tuned next week, internets, and I'll post our card from this year. I just mailed my last big stack today, and I don't want to ruin the surprise for anyone who hasn't gotten theirs.

Play along, won't you? Let's see some of your Christmas card ghosts.