Tie Game, Bottom of the Ninth, Full Count, Two Outs, and There's the Pitch...CRACK!

I fixed the washing machine by watching a YouTube video on how to replace the rubber boot. Our leaking machine stopped leaking in a matter of 2 hours; the guy on the video did it in 12 minutes but that is beside the point.  The dryer now that is a different story; our dryer had been squeaking for at least 6 months and finally I went to restart it after adding a few things and it wouldn't go back on.   I assumed this was the poorly neglected belt and rollers but after two evenings of solid dryer-cursing work and an annoyingly sub-par YouTube video my husband and I had it back together only for it not to work again.  It needed a new motor which I, of course, ordered from Amazon.  My father, brother-in-law, and husband spent an few hours putting it all back together after my dad made a part that they lost in the rush to dismantle it.  My husband later told me he just knew it was never going back together when they looked for the part for 30 minutes and couldn't find it and he was shocked when my dad fashioned a new one out of random parts in the garage.  Honestly, I never had a single doubt.  

Smiling Through My Teeth

We were recently watching an episode of Word World on PBS and they were talking about what a sweet tooth was.  I immediately told SH1, "You have a sweet tooth!"  He readily agreed and proceeded to identify the other teeth our family members have.  

"SH2 has a salt tooth, Daddy has a pepper tooth, SH3 has a milk tooth, and Mommy has a..."  

Oh God, I thought, please don't say wine, don't say I have a wine tooth.  

"Mommy has a caffeine tooth!"

I laughed for a minute straight out of relief and his adorable honesty. 

"I said that because you love a mamilla latte." 

Even at 3 years old SH1 appreciates a well decorated cookie
Photo credit: Terah Lake Photography

Eating Bald Pan-a-cakes Atop Laundry Mountain

There was a little girl,

Who had a little curl,

Right in the middle of her forehead.

When she was good,

She was very very good,

But when she was bad she was horrid.

       --Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I wanted to make the post-church Sunday breakfast.  I like my scrambled eggs better than my husbands (this is the only thing that I make that I like better; he is an amazing cook) and I really wanted to see if I could make donuts or some other pastry this happy morning.  Despite the lack of time I have for it, I really like to bake.  It feeds that A+ in organic chemistry lab part of me that likes to measure precisely and see things turn out how they are supposed to when you follow a recipe to the letter.
This book, however, haunts me...

I made them once and they turned out okay at best.  I spent all this money on a stupid pan, an unrealistic book, and lemon curd all which I have used once in 5 years.  The batter requires you to whip egg whites to stiff peaks prior to folding it into the sifted dry ingredients or something like that.  My world with three starving kids under six does not afford me opportunity to whip a multiple step batter into anything other than a frenzy.

I got an idea.

We are a pancake mix family on those weekends when we have the time and energy to make them.  These are just round stuffed pancakes, right?  I read the cooking instructions for the Ebelskivers substituting pancake mix batter for crazy fancy batter.*

A Spring Break in the Daily Routine

Everyone has a story of their best spring break EVER.  I have mine and it involves being in college and having access to a house boat, friends, and sunshine.  For the past few years spring break has meant very little to me at all.  Following the second hardest February of my life one year ago this week, SH1 had just told us he had pin worms again. The depression and laundry piles that I was left with made me completely unable and unwilling to acknowledge spring break at all. This year is miraculously different.
Don't get me wrong we had a scare when SH2 complained her bottom hurt last week; my poor husband and I inspected that kid's butt-hole for at least 60 seconds straight.  She grew uncomfortable with the attention to her anus and we literally had to look at each other and say, "If it is so what?!"  She does not have pinworms; she was constipated and decided to start poop holding, a mere speed bump in our world.  (That will teach my kids to complain of pain in their bottom.)  
Monday when I came home from work to their screeching laughter, I realized that SH1 (6yo), SH2 (3yo) and SH3 (18mos) have a thing or two to teach me about spring break.

It is not about learning to tie shoes
It is not about homework, practicing phonograms, or spelling words
It is not about backpacks or lunch boxes
It is not about schedules and spending the day buckled in car seats 
It is not about using inside voices or keeping our body under control

It is about asking every.single.day. "Do we have school tomorrow?" and when I reply "Nope not for # of days" they dance around me excitedly planning what they will do with ALLL that time
It is about watching Frozen or The Croods or Turbo (over and over)
It is about eating every meal outside and pointing out the hummingbirds
It is about SH3 saying "Do" and nodding her head as in 'I do' instead of 'Yes' when you ask her anything 
It is about a trip to the zoo along with every other bored school age kid's family in your district
It is about a muddy pile of clothes and a happy naked toddler who was stripped because she found the sand and water mixture to be glorious fun
It is about blowing bubbles in the tub until you are out of breath from laughing and bubble making
It is about pretending to be a baby (insert animal here) for hours on end
It is about SH1's T-ball practice and spring training games
It is about walking to the park and watching SH3 go up the steps and down the slide 30 times in a row
It is about staying up late to build Lego cars 
It is about couch cushion forts that get cleaned up before I get home because they make me crazy for some unknown reason
It is about movie night with fizzy lemonade and popcorn
It is about SH2 thinking that every day that has passed is either "last year" or "yesterday"
It is about dance parties to Backyardigan's ditties and Frozen songs 
It is about three hour naps for exhausted toddlers
It is about coming home to colored pictures and stapled pages ('books') that simply say 'I love you mom' over and over again with drawings of SH1 and I together

Couch cushion den for my happy baby foxes

Spring break is magical.  It is hard.  It is not a break at all.  It is a week-long chance to look back on who they were this time a year ago and who they have become in one very short year and one very long week.

Miracles Miracles Everywhere But Not a One I See

Two years ago this past month my Dad was in the intensive care unit (ICU) for two weeks on a ventilator (machine that breathes for him).  I came home one day from the hospital scream sobbing because I knew he was going to die.  My sister and I were 4 and 5 months pregnant respectively and my brother and sister in law were 8 months pregnant.  Those were the worst days of my life.

I have a rule about hospitals.  I work in them every day so I know how they work.  If you are unable to speak for yourself, someone has to be there at all times to advocate for you.  I am especially interested in patient safety and know that you are more likely to die of a medical error in a hospital than to die of motor vehicle accidents, HIV, and breast cancer combined. I have four siblings and between us, our significant others, and my mom we tried to be there all day every day around the clock.  This was very hard on all of us with families, work, and babies on the way.  Circumstances and exhaustion being what they were I was there every.single.day.  I burned through my accumulated days off that I had been saving for my maternity leave to post vigil by his side.  I couldn't do the nights because I needed to be home, but I was the physician of the family so I felt it was my duty to be there to ask questions, get answers, and fill in the gaps during the day. 

I had two small humans at home with a third on the way.  I went to my obstetrician (OB) for no reason other than I was irrationally terrified that all this stress was killing my unborn baby.  I could barely hold on, how could this small human growing inside of me?  I wanted to hear SH3's heartbeat.  I don’t know how he knew, but he offered to pray with me.  I sobbed as he prayed and couldn't believe how he knew that is exactly what I needed at that moment.  

SH3 and her Pa Pa sharing laughs and a snack

My Life is Poop

SH1 loves animals.  He wanted a petting zoo birthday party.  He was the ONLY kid that stayed in the gated area with the animals for the entire time they were at our house.  He missed eating pizza dinner at his own party because of his dedication to petting, holding, and chasing the animals.  Of all the parties we have thrown this kid, this is by far our greatest triumph.  

Best party ever!

Trader Joe and the Return of the Strawberry Hiccups

Dear Trader Joe's,

I am so sorry.  It was not meant to happen in your store.  I had a just picked up SH1 from school to have his teacher tell me that he complained of belly pain and was not himself.  I was not worried; I knew this was constipation.  I gave him some juice to drink on the way home both as a treat and to help hydrate.  After all I am an internist and have been pregnant three times such that I know the curative benefits of having regular bowel movements.  We went to Costco to pick up our photo Valentine cards.  My son reassured me that he was okay and really wanted to do this.  I had one more stop to make to pick up salsa for the class party tomorrow as well as bottle of wine for liquid patience and stamina as I helped address and put together 27 valentines with a 6 year old.

Finished product with a homemade flower in mine instead of a lollipop