Oh, Darn It!

Have you ever noticed they don't make socks like they used to? I don't remember mine becoming as hole-y as quickly from years past? Should we bring back "darning"? Do you even know what darning is?

And speaking of hosiery, I wore nylons, aka panty hose, the other Sunday for the first time in years. The outfit called for it, and luckily the only pair I own is black. Yet, the elastic waist was a little flimsy. (Must be all the weight I've lost. Ha!) Having a little fun running/simple jog up to the sidewalk of church with the little guys, I noticed these nylons had let go of my waist and were headed on down to about the hips. No big deal. Yet, a trip to the bathroom after dropping the boys off in Treasureland was needed after I realized they were most likely going to be shown falling down at the hem of my skirt shortly. The rest of the church service and trip home were most uneventful, but it was great to come home and rid myself of them. I was tempted to throw them away, but who knows when I might need another pair of black nylons again.

"Five what?"

Adam's teacher pulled me aside after I helped with Group Time yesterday. "I have to show you something," says Mrs. DeVries.

"Uh oh," I utter wearily. (I shutter when the teacher needs to talk to me. Or the school's name shows up on the Caller ID.)

She showed me this...

A standard paper the boys use to learn their numbers in Pre-K. I've seen them before.

"What do you think those are?" she asks, referring to the 5 brown objects Adam drew.

I was clueless. She said she was too when she asked Adam what they were.

"They're 5 wieners!!" Adam had happily proclaimed.

I wasn't shocked or surprised. And if it had been any other teacher besides Kristin DeVries, I most likely would have been a bit embarrassed. I just shook my head, knowing my son too well. Knowing that "poop" is his current favorite word or knowing that my boys have no qualms about their privates or knowing what is appropriate or inappropriate.

Actually, I found it quite amusing, not laugh out loud amusing, but smile-to-yourself amusing, feel-the-love-for-your-child amusing.

Oh, Adam, you make me smile. You are one of a kind!!

Trick or Treat, Smell My Feet

If any of you know me at all, you would know that I would not shell out $20 for a Halloween costume - for something you will wear for only 2 hours in one day! So, as I was glancing through my digital pictures, I was reminded of how my boys earned their way to become Clone Troopers.

In order to obtain the costume of the year, I told them they had to raise half of the cost of it. Our chore chart that rests on the frig lists, among many, household tasks in which to get some cash of their own -- dusting the upstairs bedrooms - $1, vacuuming - 10 cents per room, cleaning the powder room - 75 cents, sweeping and mopping the tile floor - $3. And the last item is change Gise' diaper - 50 cents pee-pee, $5 poopy. Never since the week before Halloween has this item been approached, as I have thought it would never be approached, just a joke in the midst of all the work.

Yet, Grant needed $4.50 more.

"Mom, I'll change Gise' poopy diaper," Grant said hesitantly.

I believe Gise was so dumbfounded that his brother was wiping his bootie, that he laid so still. He always gives his Momma a hard time, kicking, screaming and squirming.

Here's some pictures of my hard-working boys, Adam & Grant...

And Gise...

And Will...

Triple Bops

It has happened again. Tonight we had simultaneous triple dumps among the three older boys.

Will was the last one to announce his intentions. So, I steered him toward the remaining bathroom as I explained the others were occupied. He states he remembers the last time, and that it was "cool".

As a house full of girls most often get their cycle at the same time, is this what happens in a house full of boys?

(Please enjoy another toilet photo of one of my children. This is Adam, age 4, last Christmas.) (He'd be so embarrassed if he knew all that I was doing.)

Sun & Sand

"Let's go to the beach this summer, Auntie Liz," Grant asks.

"Good idea, Grant," Liz responds. "Let's do it."

Three months later...

"When does school start, Grant?" questions Liz.

"Next week Tuesday," responds the 7 year old.

"I guess we better go to the beach Monday then, seeing as we haven't gone yet this summer if we want to get it in before school starts," replies the Auntie.*

*(conversation is not exact words, please understand)

So, off to North Avenue Beach, as requested by Grant, for a day of beachy, beachy fun! Uncle Brandon, Uncle Bryan and Grandma Docter joined us in the outing. It was a bit chilly, but when the cloudless sky came upon us, we took off our shirts (Brandon) to enjoy the sun and soak it in. Grant and Adam loved the water, especially jumping and riding the huge waves that were formed that windy-ish day. Will was my sand man, as we dug big holes and made tunnels and built our own sand guy. Frisbees and footballs were flying as uncles were tackled.

What a way to end the summer! Enjoy the slide show.

Ahhh... The First Day of School

It started out as a wonderful, quiet morning. I was awake before everyone else, getting cinnamon rolls ready for the first day of school breakfast. It was commercial-like as I woke my children up. Grant says, "Ahhh... I smell cinnamon rolls." "This is an exciting day," exclaims Will as he is climbing down the bunk bed ladder. The children had arisen without a complaint of hating school or wanting to stay in bed. And sitting around the table wasn't a battle; it was expectant and joyful.

"Boys, we need to be in the car by 7:40," I state at 6:42am, thinking we have plenty of time this morning.

Things were going smoothly along until about 7:20. After quelling up with anxiety and impatience, I erupted. Mr. Grant tests me to no-end on school mornings. He is the biggest dilly-dallyer I know, besides Dave. And it drives me insane!!! I can't send him upstairs for anything because he gets lost in the process of it all and unloads his mind by playing Legos when he should be brushing his teeth. Then, I yell up to him again. "LET'S GOOO, GRAAANT!!!"

"Mom, why did you yell so loud?" questions Will. "BECAUSE I HAVE A SECOND-GRADER WHO CAN'T GET READY BY HIMSELF!!!" I scream.

At 7:35am, an accident happens by one child, right after they had just sat on the toilet for 5 minutes. Dave can't help me out, because he is wiping his own butt on another toilet. I make Grant cry as I pull his hair while combing it. And I get frustrated because my eldest is a sissy, crying all the time over the littlest things, like a little tangle in his sun-streaked locks.

It is now 7:46am, and they grab their shoes. "GET IN THE CAR!!" "WE'RE SO LATE!!" "AND IT'S ONLY THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!!" "UGGHH!!"

"Ah, shit, we have to take a picture," I say, followed by my thought of "I hope they didn't hear me say shit. Maybe I can play it off as 'ah, ship.' "

"Don't make us take a picture in the front," Grant states, "The sun is in our eyes there."

"JUST GET OVER HERE NOW!!" I utter loudly to them, not wanting to wake any neighbors and bring attention to the crazy lady who loves in that house. "AND IF YOU DON'T SMILE, I WILL GIVE YOU A SPANKING!!"

Happy First Day of School, boys! Your mother sure made it joyous for you!

In conclusion, I have got to come up with a better morning plan. And pray for more patience. And have another apology ready for my new second-grader when he gets home.

Back-to-School Bash

The Gibson mother wanted to bring Grant's boy classmates together before the school year began. So, a messy party was planned. T-Shirts were spray painted. Jello balloons were tossed. Dirt pudding was eaten. Life Savers were sought after in whip cream pies. Mud was abundant in tug-a-war. Soapy water was splashed all around on the slip-n-slide racetrack. Silly string was discovered. And water fights were aplenty.

Boys need to be boys; they truly defined the word "boy" yesterday. They embraced it. They dove right in, figuratively and literally.

And I loved it. I loved watching them be their boyish selves. Running, jumping, getting disgusting. Having water fights, going crazy with the water balloons. Most of all, I relished their huge smiles and carefree spirits.

Over the past 3 school years, I am beginning to know these little guys better. And I have seen what special kids they are. They are most often filled with joy, seeing it in their smiles and bouncy demeanor. Grant is blessed to have such wonderful classmates. It's going to be fun watching them grow over the years.

"I've Got Bops!!!"

From the powder room, Adam states, "I've got bops!!!"

Grant proclaims from the master bathroom 10 seconds later, "I've got bops!!!"

And another, "I've got bops!!" is heard right after that from the upstairs bathroom from Will.

This is a phenomenon. How often have you ever had 3 of your children going Number 2 all at the same time?

Will says to me later, "Mom, what if we didn't have three bathrooms?"

Insightful.

(By the way, Grant, age 3, likes to peruse magazines just like his Daddy.)

Another One Bites the Dust

Storm Results August 4, 2008: A trampoline mangled after flying 3 lots over through 1 side of a new fence and resting upon the other.



And who could forget the results of an early morning Christmas present on December 23, 2007: Besides the side of our house being attacked and torn and scratched away, this trampoline was never to be jumped upon again.

Yet, it all started in June of 2003 at 12700 Goldenrod Place with the invention of the "trampo-kite". After taking off from the back corner of the yard, the maiden voyage of our first trampoline/trampo-kite ended up 100 yards away over our untouched fence onto our neighbors tree. We will have to work on that landing.

Some More Gratuitous Photos

Anyone else frustrated when they visit this blog and see it hasn't been updated? Yeah, me too! I don't have much to say, but at least when you come on over to our web "home", you will see some cute faces just for the fun of it! Thanks for sticking with me!

No-Sole Mates

Needing to return a pair of shoes given to Gise for his birthday, I called up the store Sunday night hoping a machine would give me their hours. Yes, Sole Mates, would be open at 10am Monday morning. I loaded 'em up at about 9:50 and arrived to find a closed store. We waited awhile. And we happened upon a sign stating their store hours. With the wonderful invention of Wite-Out, MONDAY'S HOURS WERE VANISHED!!

A call was place to the mis-informed machine. In short, I told them I was upset and how unprofessional it was that their hours were contradictory. And that I would not be shopping with them again. (There was another incident also awhile back.)

I got a voice mail later that day, apologizing for the mix-up. He also gave me the correct hours they are open.

Tuesday arrives, and our van is loaded up again at 10:00am. I get hopeful as I see a truck parked right next to the entrance. Hope went to the wayside as the lights were off and the Closed sign was once again on the flip side. UGGGHHH!!!

We left, after placing another message on a now-blank greeting from the establishment telling we were there and they weren't, we got Dunkin' Donuts next store. After paying for my Munchkins, I stormed into that parking lot and shoved the bag of shoes in their mailbox. I left another message telling them to call me for a credit on my credit card.

He called. He was rude. He wasn't apologetic. He gave excuses. He gave me my refund.

Would you do what I did? Was I right? Is it acceptable? Do most people usually blow these things off and get taken advantage of? Don't these businesses need to know when they are wrong and could be better?

I have had a similar experience with another local business a couple months ago also. I called and left a message about my disgust. I know both of these businesses are run by Christians too. It makes me less upset, but more saddened. I know we are human and make mistakes and sin, but to repeatedly be that way? And to treat me like crap on the phone?

Maybe they don't run their business the way I would if I had one. Don't you think they could open up the door on time though? Is that too much to ask when running a business? Whatever. I thought I would throw it out there for you all. I don't care about it anymore. I made my peace and spoke my mind. And I will not be going back to Sole Mates in Crown Point, Indiana again.

Date Night

I recently received the following e-mail from my mom, which she received from her friend.

"Good afternoon!

After trips to the beauty shop, hardware store, etc. we went out to the new house this afternoon. Later we stopped at Dairy Queen for a late (2 p.m.) lunch & saw the cutest couple out on a date. It was a May-Sept. kind of romance. The woman was quite a bit older than the "man", but they looked good together. I don't think it was their first date, but I have reason to believe that she is seeing a few others on the side. But she has her reasons, probably pretty good ones. From the giggles that were coming from that end of the room I would say they were having a really good time together and enjoyed each other's company. Amy & Adam were out on a mother/son date.

It was really sweet. They weren't there too long & may have had other activities prior to the DQ visit, but what we witnessed was just great. We saw them when we first arrived & when I asked where everyone was, she said that they were on a date. So we made sure to sit at the other end & did not speak again until they were leaving. Makes me miss all the fun times I shared with my son when he was little. Amy is doing a wonderful job building memories & cementing her relationships with her children."

I am only sharing her e-mail because of the adorable way she put it into prose and not to toot my own horn about what she said about me. But it does feel good that an outsider, or at least one who knows us and the family, can see my intentions in planning dates with my little men.

I stole "dating your children" from a few of my guy friends. You know, I have boys, why can't I date them? (For sure, they are going to need the practice for someday, or maybe never, for their mama's sake. Ha!) Dates for the Gibson duo is usually a trip to local somewhere for a little something. For example, an ice cream treat at Dairy Queen or a trip to Target for popcorn and pop. Yet, it isn't about the destination, it's about what happens there. With my boys, it is like pulling teeth to get them to express. They know how to talk and say all the goofy, crude boy phrases, just not the dig-down-deep words to have a conversation that doesn't have the words fart, butt or poopy in it. (I'm exaggerating a bit.) I usually bring along my little book "Ask Me" by Antje Damm to help me pry some things out of them. It is a wonderful book that asks simple, accompanied by rich and varied images that are designed to stimulate conversation. Questions like, "Which of your dreams do you remember?" and "What do you wish you could do really well?" are a few examples.

Getting to know my children deeper is not just about dating them, I know. Yet, it is a helpful way to get intentional, focused attention on just one child away from your home. I love seeing these boys in different lights individually. Having a big family like ours, it is easy to be clumped together, especially with two of them coming into this world already a duo. I cherish these little dates and my forever-little boys.

And speaking of dates... Grant had quite an extraordinary date with his mom today that I had to share because he had a blast. And he can't wait to tell everyone at school and show the picture we took. He even made me tell the drive-thru girl at McDonalds' where we went. "Blue Man Group" was the destination!! I want to instill the love of culture and the arts in these guys, because there is so much to offer out there. Grant loved the percussion sets and all the goofy moments these guys share. He was upset because there wasn't more "tubes" that beat on. He even had me pray for the opportunity tonight; so I know he must have loved it. And his mom loved it too!!

What to Do? What to Do?

I've pulled the summer programs book out to glance at for my boys. I don't want to get into too much trouble overscheduling, but it would be fun to do something different, something a mom can't offer.

We already signed up for the necessary swimming lessons, and a possible Vacation Bible School is always a good option. So, Adam wants to do karate and tumbling and Little One's day camp. Will wants to do gymnastics ("Maybe, Ally will be there!" Ally = special girl at preschool.) and golfing. Nothing in the book interests my oldest Grant.

No basketball or baseball skills camps. No arts camp. No karate. No nothing.

A little background on him - he takes after his father on being more mild and more timid than others. (Notice I didn't say "more wussy.") Grant likes to play tag, chase/tease the girls, and play on the equipment at recess, because playing football and basketball with some of the other boys is "too rough," and, "Someone might kick me." Also, Grant gets hit by a ball at least once at every one of his baseball games and, bless his heart, he cries most every time.

So, after offering up Tennis Lessons from the St. John summer program book to my sweet child, he questions, "Is the ball hard?"

Grant

My sweet child. My firstborn. He was, like most parents believe, a perfect baby. He came into this world with a non-conical shaped head and no zits on his face. He was cute; looked like a Docter. His personality was brilliant - good-natured, happy and smiling, eager to see the world, bright.

My firstborn. Grant.

Each year brings new adventures and a variance in their nature. The early years, ages 1-4, are just hysterical! They see everything for a first time, giving words to their visions. And the words they use usually aren't spot on. And that is what makes everything in the world disappear, as you see it through the eyes of a child - innocence.

These youngsters age each year, becoming more wise, growing into that soul that will become old. They don't make those "word mistakes" anymore, but correct those that do. They form their own jokes and riddles, actually making sense, and not using the words "poopy" or "toilet" to get a laugh. They start to ask the tough questions; they understand more of reality than given credit. They learn things in school that you don't know and have now become smarter than their parents. They surprise you with their generosity and care for others.

Grant turns 7 next Friday. Sometimes I wish I had my sweet precious tyke back. I caught a glimpse of my little guy as he lost his other front tooth. I love a child without his two front teeth-sweet, youthful, uninhibited-are just a few words that come to my mind. This little stage is fun, until I see the gnarly, gangly, yellow teeth that take its place!

Has my Uncluttering Gone too Far?

While doing research as to how to "dye" ice cream for an upcoming birthday treat, I happened upon the McCormick website - home of food coloring and spices and such.

Intrigue set in as I caught a glimpse of the tab "How Fresh Are Your Spices?". Ooo, I couldn't wait to be done with my "project" to head on over and click.

Well, I gathered up my own trays of spices and began to seek the freshness through their "Fresh-Tester." If my spice didn't have a best by date on it, I then plugged my code into it. Some interesting results ensued.

I had spices that were over 13 years old! 1995, 1996, 1998, 2000, etc. (And McCormick was even pretty cute with witty sayings dating our spices to what was going on that year.)

So, needless to say, I now have 2 empty bins to place in my cabinet. As you can tell from the picture below, I threw out 20 spice jars and kept only 8. I was shocked that spices went bad so quickly. According to their site, the shelf life is from 1-4 years, depending on the spice. I know many of folk who have spice racks, and most of those sit around for years and years!



So, I just wanted to inform any of you ladies out there about this wonderful tool on the McCormick website. http://www.spicecheckchallenge.com/ Check it out sometime! It will change your life! Or at least a shelf in your life!

Weird

"Mom, you look weird," says the second born William.



I'm wearing a dew-rag today. It's tied underneath my hair like a huge headband, a bit like a babushka. Anyway, I used to wear it like this in my earlier years. And I wanted something to keep my hair out of my face today because I'm going to help Lizzie & Brandon clean their new house.

Will said I looked "weird" because I believe he never sees me like this. I am pretty plain in my style - pajamas pants, t-shirts, glasses and flip flops. He most likely didn't have the words to say, "Mom, you look different."

So, William, you will be my inspiration. An inspiration to look "weird" a lot more - to get out of my comfort zone of pjs and t-shirts and get more exciting in my approach at life! Will, thanks for what you said. And little do you know that the yellow and orange rain boots I wear around the yard, which you think are normal, are a bit weird. Yet I have confidence in myself and don't care what others think. I pray my boys will have a style all their own and be confident in who they are also.

My Dear Child

Adam John, oh, Adam John. I shake my head daily with him, wondering where he came from.

Lemons - likes to squeeze them... into his milk! And he enjoys eating them - rind and all!

Afternoon comes, playing with a buddy outside. Will joins him and drags him off around the side of the house. All three boys squirm on back.

"Mom, I went bops outside."

He's kidding, right? Nope.

They've been asking for a dog. I don't think so.

Right in the Wanker

"I made a new friend in Treasureland today!" Adam exclaims.

"What's his name?" the mother asks.

"I don't know," Adam says.

"Well, good for you, guy!" states the mother.

The next day on the way home from preschool from the back seat of the Ta-Ho, a discussion begins among Will & Adam.

"I made a new friend in Treasureland," repeats Adam. "I kicked him right in the wanker and he laid right down! It was so funny!"

"Did he cry?" questions the mother.

"He didn't cry," says Adam. "He said thank you and he kicked me right back. He's my new friend!"

As the mother continues down the road, shaking her head, she smiles to herself. She thanks God for her little boys and the beauty of their ways.

Out of the Mouth of a Child

As I am sitting at my computer checking my e-mail and such, this is what I see from my viewpoint. Will needs to go potty and "bops."

"Mom!" shouts Will. "Can you please close the door? I need my private seat."

He actually needs his "privacy", but "private seat" actually works in this situation.

Enjoy the day! Our little buddy will since he had his morning bops already!

A Lingering Longing

Brandon copied a CD for me after hearing of my woes. "Woe is me - Dave wouldn't let me get the soundtrack at the venue." "Woe is me - Dave wouldn't even let me get the greatest hits."

"Jersey Boys" is what I'm talking about. After attending the hit musical, I knew I needed to have those songs - not only for me to remember my night, but also for my boys to culture them with good tunes. I stayed up late after leaving the Windy City, ordering the greatest hits CD's. I got 2 for $15. Yep, beats the price at the theatre.

And then along comes the younger brother surprising me with the pirated soundtrack. "It's kind of boring," he states. "It was only pieces of the songs and lots of talking."

After hearing a little ditty from the soundtrack popped in my Ta-Ho by husband, I became a bit elated hearing my guys singing once again to me.

Don't get me wrong, The Four Seasons will live forever through their clever tunes, but these Chicago "Jersey Boys" will live on forever in me.

Brandon says I'm a dork, but I was once again brought back to my night at the LaSalle Bank Theatre where Frankie Valli and his Seasons sang right to the first row of the mezzanine at me. (No, not "Walk Like a Man." That was to Dave.) "Can't take my eyes off of you. You're just too good to be true. I want to hold you so much." "I need you baby. I love you baby."

Well, yes I am a dork. I have this "weird" thing where I attach myself to others. It is hard to explain, but let me give you an example. After the births of my children, I felt an instant sadness because I wouldn't have the same relationship with my OB-GYN anymore. After seeing him so much in the past nine months, I would only see him again in 6 weeks and then only yearly. And it is never the same either.

I felt a bit sad when I couldn't talk with Tim, the funeral director, anymore. (Thankfully, I don't have to speak with him.) But when you go through some emotional times, the sense of calm they emit is comforting.

I also have this "weird" thing with others who I haven't had any personal contact with. I have dreams with celebrities. Dreams where we become boyfriend and girlfriend, I lead him to Jesus, and then we get married. Matt Damon, Tom Cruise and even Dennis Rodman have highlighted my nighttime thoughts/dreams. (In my Rodman dream, he wore a wedding dress to our nuptials too.)

Anyway, I am really putting this out there for you all to think I am even crazier! I don't care; it shows who am I. And right now, Frank Valli thinks I am "just too good to be true" also!

The Story of the Easter Hat

Once upon a time...

No, we are not telling it like that. So here it goes, my way.

Today was the big Easter party at Thornridge Preschool. Will & Adam were to have a decorated hat for the "parade." Three years ago, Grant's mother (me) was a bad mom and didn't know about such a thing for the party. As Grant walked the parade and was introduced wearing a straw hat Miss Pam and Miss Cindy found in the dress-up clothes, tears streamed down my face as thoughts of how awful a mother I was.

So, three years later, I was determined to do it up big and make this whole hat experience wonderful for my boys.

But the dilemma is that I don't go for the commercialism of Christian holidays. Santa, the Easter bunny - blah, blah, blah. And I was reminded of this viewpoint after visiting Grandma's house for hat ideas and decorations.

Here is how it went down. A couple of my brothers, I believe it was Bryan, Blake & Brandon, were over there at the time eying my hat decorations. They were doing a simple brainstorm among themselves and decided Will needed to wear a crown of thorns. And he should carry a cross. Oh, my. What would the other mothers think of that?!

But it got me thinking more. Maybe we could go this route, but could I get my guys on board? Thus, I found all the Easter books and stories in the house and read to them. I read to give them knowledge of the whole story; I read to them for inspiration; I read to them to give them courage if this hat thing went through.

Out with the girls for a birthday, the topic came up again. Suggestions included painted styrofoam balls to symbolize the empty tomb. Mary could be "branched off" the grave, along with the risen Lord. Another boy could wear a crown and wear a sign "Jesus is Alive" and "Jesus is Lord". (And for any of you out there who knows what sputtin' is, this might be the appropriate time to use it. Forgive me Lord.)

When shopping for materials for my grave, I was also looking for supplies for a foam Easter basket hat. Walmart had all the supplies for both projects. And after much contemplation and weighing the difficulty of making a hat out of styrofoam balls, I decided to go with the foam route.

I am glad we did this. After I cut and constructed the foam framework, it was all them. They had a blast creating. Adam loves the glue and pipe cleaners. Will loves stickers and is a bit of a perfectionist. And Grant even got in on it, with his hat having "symmetry" as he says.

And not to forget about the true meaning of our Holy Week, the boys both put a cross on their hat. Adam made one out of pipe cleaners. And Will had cross stickers all over. He couldn't wait to wear his "Jesus hat" to school today.

I guess a bit of commercialism isn't bad. As long as they know what we are really celebrating! As they waved palm branches this past Sunday in church, they knew. "Hallelujah! Hosanna! Jesus is Lord! Jesus is Risen!" Happy Easter!

You are 40, not 70!

Someone please save me. Dave is watching Gaither Homecoming on TV. What are you doing right now? Be thankful you don't have to listen to your tone-deaf, toe-tappin', finger-snapping husband singing bits and pieces of this.

Don't get me wrong. I do appreciate this music. I actually like it, but I am not one to sit in front of the tube singing along and making comments to the singers like they are my own family and I'm at the reunion with them. "Get on up, Vestal." Yeah, rise from that lazy boy you sit in all the time. But be careful you don't fall and break a hip.

I just can't believe it. I am sitting here one room away, giggling to myself, shaking my head. This really is something.

He just said, "Steady, Vestal, steady."

Oh, Dave, you are one of a kind, Grandpa.

Get out the Popcorn, People!

Anyone else excited that the Smurfs has finally made it to DVD?

Lucky Number 5?

I didn't know I had five kids until my husband would become sick.




And that day has come again.

After a 2 hour visit to the pediatrician and a three hour visit to the outpatient center, here is a rundown of my basketball team on the injured reserve list:

Grant - bronchitis, ear infection, and we got to watch the huge tonsils
Will - bronchitis, fluid in the ears (along with some pussy eyes)
Adam - a cold, most likely the start of the above
Gise - not checked, because his chest was clear and phlegm loose at dog bite appointment last week, but his cough remains and his boogers remain green
Dave - gross, don't even let me explain, you would lose your lunch, he now knows he cannot wear white underwear

I didn't think this blog would take the direction it has taken in the last couple days, but it sure is fun letting you all in our world. Don't feel bad for us; this is no big deal. Now if there were 5 pukers, boy I would be pulling my hair out! Enjoy the day!

And then there were four...

Attention, attention!! Number four sickie has arrived at the Gibson household!! Please send help!!

The Monkey in the Cage

Grant never climbed out of his crib. In fact, after his transition to a "big boy" bed, he wouldn't even climb out of that. I had to go get him after his naps.

Will never climbed out either.

Adam, he climbed out, but I was diligent in doing the whole "Supernanny"-putting-him-back-in-his-crib-without-talking process. Eventually, he was trained to stay and go to sleep in his crib.

Number four child comes along. He climbs out of crib. We put him back. He climbs out of crib. We put him back. He climbs out of crib at 5am. We let him sleep in our bed. He climbs out of bed. We let him play unsupervised while we sleep.

Gise will climb out of his crib for his nap, up to 10 times, and play with his toys. I sometimes will sit in his room until he falls asleep. It works, but do I really want to do this every day? I wouldn't want to have a sitter do this.

The final straw was a 4:30am wake-up call at the top of the stairs from our little buddy. "Dah-dee!" Thus, the day had begun. Later, naptime was upon us; the crib tent was put together. Baby was put into his cage and was not happy.

When I only had Grant, one child around, if you told me that my fourth child would use a crib tent, I would never have believed it. How dare someone put their little baby in one of those cages! Yet, until you have been there, don't knock it!

Oh, I forgot.

I forgot to mention the trip to the dentist for a dead front tooth. And my youngest is now in a cage, I mean crib tent, because he is a monkey and wakes us up at 5 in the morning.

Oh, such is the life.

A Little Glimpse

I'm not complaining, but tonight I did ask God to give me more patience and to make my life a little easier. I know, selfish, but it doesn't hurt to ask.

It has been non-stop over here the last couple days. We have had a visit to the pediatrician for a dog bite and infection. We have 2 boys with super coughs and fevers. We have a toddler who won't stay in his crib. We have had 3 suppositories (or as Dave calls them, "butt bullets"). We have one who can blow his nose, one who doesn't blow hard enough, and another who sucks in. (Any methods for teaching a kid how to blow his nose?) We have 10 new Play-Doh cans all mixed together. We have had one sick day. We have had at least 7 changes of sheets in the last week from bed wetters.

Like I said earlier, I'm not complaining. But can you top it?

My Dad

My Dad went to meet his Creator two weeks ago today. I have been wanting to write about it, but was never inspired. Today I had to give some quotes, a personal view on my dad for a press release being sent out by the Jennifer S. Fallick Cancer Support Center. They are honoring him next Saturday at their President's Ball with the Spirit of Life Award. After typing out what I wanted to convey to her, in one simple e-mail (ha!), I felt what I wrote was just a tint of who my father was.

"My dad was filled with humility. He would be very appreciative and thankful for this award, but he didn't do all he did for the notoriety or recognition. He would use this award to turn around and inspire others to use their God-given talents and gifts for good in the areas in which their passion lies. And he was truly an inspirational man. I remember listening to him give a speech for a campaign or just addressing a crowd at an event. He would win me over time and time again. Maybe I was biased being his "Princess," his only daughter among five brothers, but I believe he could motivate others brilliantly.

In regard to his cancer, my dad was diagnosed 6 1/2 years before he died, when they only gave him 1 year to live. At the time of his diagnosis, he had only 1 grandchild. And at the end of his life he had 10 more. My dad would say he was so blessed; he would wake every day thanking God for another day to be alive, another day to give to his community and family.

His death came as a shock to some people, because my dad kept his cancer to himself for the most part. These others knew he had it, but he was in such great shape, they didn't believe it. He was still attending to business, still ushering at church, still wrestling around on the floor with my boys up until the day he went into the hospital last December. My dad didn't let his cancer define him. My dad is the most positive man I have ever met, never a complaint about anything, including his illness. Next to my heavenly Father, my earthly father was my hero, my rock. Now that he is gone, the world will be a more empty place - in the business world, in the philanthropic world, in the government, in our family. But he wouldn't want us to think like that. He would want us to step up, fill his void in all his ventures and endeavors. He would hope that we would be inspired, not by his fabulous rhetoric as I mentioned before, but in the silence of his absence from death."

Precious

Over the past couple months, while my dad was at his worst and I helped my mom care for him and give her support, I have had many wonderful caregivers over here at the Gibson house. But the best one of all was the boys' daddy. Dave stepped up and gave me the freedom to do what I needed to do for my family in my dad's final days. I haven't told him enough how much I appreciate him for what he has done, and I don't know if I could ever convey it to the fullest. (I think I use that line a lot. Anyway...) He is a super person - always giving and not getting enough (especially in a particular area - ha!) My Dave might not make my birthday the grandest day for me. But for the rest of the year, he makes up for it every day by being there for me, by standing beside me at my best and worst, by loving me no matter what. He also is one of the most superb fathers around. From birth on, he has dove in to help in any way he can - from diapers to baths to feeding to putting on clothes. He is also exceptional at putting the kids to bed. The prayers, even though I tease him about how long they are ("congregational prayers"), he offers up to God with the boys are simply amazing. Those boys don't know how good they have it, learning to pray from such a Godly man. And learning how to lead a life of honesty and integrity from such an honorable man. And learning how to love unconditionally and without prejudice and judgment from such a self-less man. These boys are blessed. (I thank God at least there is one sane parent in this house. Kidding.)

Anyway, now that I have pumped him up, let me tell you what he thinks of them after having had to watch them so much lately. Here's the e-mail he just sent me:

"I figured out what to do with the Goose."




Gise gets into everything, is running around everywhere, hardly ever sits still. In addition to our crazy baby, the other boys demand a lot, needing things done instantly, whining, etc. Dave cannot handle this. Wait, he can handle it, but isn't too happy while watching them.

He is back at work today, away from the busyness and craziness of our home. He will come home refreshed, look at those boys and love them no less than when they got on his nerves. He will play tackle with them, he will shoot Nerf guns with them, he will put them to bed and check on them again before he goes to bed himself. Even if the day has been a bit unsettled, he will look at those sleeping children through his loving eyes and thank God for the way they are.

A Gaggle of Google

I recently read an article naming the word of the year. If you are curious, "subprime" made top honors. Yet, I was more fascinated and impressed with a runner-up - "Googleganger."

What's a "Googleganger?" A play on "doppelganger," the word is "a person with your name who shows up when you Google yourself."

Have you done it before? Googled yourself? I have. Now there is a word for it.

Meet Amy Gibson, a former soap star, and the leading consultant in the country for women afflicted with hair loss.

Meet Dave Gibson, a singer, songwriter and member of the Gibson/Miller Band.

Meet Adam Gibson, home improvement guru, contractor and designer.

Meet Will Gibson, a musician from the UK.

Meet Grant Gibson, award winning interior designer.

And our little buddy Gise has no Googleganger. (Isn't there a word for that, when you try to google and nothing comes up?)

Enjoy my little findings. Goofy, I know,but enjoyable.