"You'll shoot your EYE out!"

When Jack was born, it took us three years to allow anything in our home that even resembled a gun. Even then, we called them "shooters." His very first actual gun was this wooden cork pop gun we got downtown at the Alamo this summer.

And, fast forward to Baby #2.

Here is my barefoot, mis-matched PJ-wearing 13-month old using a pop gun like an old pro.



We took two videos: one is 33-seconds long and he uses it to hit the dog. The other is 40-seconds long and he smacks his brother in the face.

Lost in translation.

Jack: "Mom, there is a boy in my class who always makes bad choices."

Me: "Like what?"

J: "He tries to share snacks, breaks the tips off all his pencils, doesn't listen, and he drizzles."

M: "Drizzles? What does THAT mean?"

J (making huge circular swirling motions): "He just goes this way and that way and all over the place and makes a huge mess! I tell him not to, but he swirls it around every time! He even gets it all close to me and I always tell him to stop but he still doesn't listen!"

M (disgusted and mortified): "He gets pee-pee all over the place?"

J: "Eww, that's gross!! Why are you talking about PEE-PEE??!"

M: "Okay, Mommy doesn't understand, WHAT does he drizzle all over the place?"

J (exasperated): "His CRAYON!"

M: "Oh, do you mean he SCRIBBLES?!!"

J: "Yeah, not drizzles... He SCRIBBLES! I tell him not to, but he just does it every single time."

M: "Oh, okay, well you just concentrate on your paper and let Mrs. Brockman worry about his."

End of our second week... SO happy for a long weekend.

Jack loves his new teacher, Mrs. Brockman. Here is her adorable door all decorated. I am amazed at how quickly she got this classroom together. The inside is awesome.

Eager Kindergartners all lined up outside their new classroom waiting for an exciting week.

Does every single Mom in this world look at a classroom full of kiddos and feel like hers is the sweetest, cutest, and most gifted of them all?

This ain't yo Momma's Alphabet.

"You down with ABC? Yeah, you know me..."



Can you imagine 22 of these hyperactive little rascals in one classroom? Holy cow.

Is this MY kid or what!?!?

Last week:

"Jack, It is NEVER okay to roll your eyes at an adult. Do you understand?"

"Mom, you NEVER have to get mad at me for that because it is NEVER on purpose. It's just that when I get frustrated, my eyeballs get really loose."

You might be a redneck Mom IF...

... you just checked the ingredients on the Hill Country Fare Dogfood label to make sure your 1-yr-old's "snack" ain't gonna upset his egg allergy.

Happy Happy Birthday, Baby...

Happy 37th birthday, Jeff!

I do not tell you often enough how much I appreciate all that you do for us. I've recently been reminded of how vital you are to this household by having to "cover for you" during the few late nights you have been working.

I admire how you keep your nose to the grindstone in a tough industry during a tough economy. Your confidence that "everything is going to be okay" helps keep me calm(ish.)

Thanks for being the driving force behind getting us to church on Sunday, for making sure the car seats are tight and heavy groceries are unloaded, and for changing the baby's dirty diaper before you even have a chance to change out of your work clothes. Thanks for putting up with two dozen charges on the debit card for $1.08 sodas.

Thanks for putting all my flip flops away. I don't always thank you when I see you walking to the closet with six pair at a time because I am sort of embarrassed.

Thank you for NEVER leaving the toilet seat up, NEVER failing to call on your way home, and NEVER fussing when I tell you the baby's shoes don't match his outfit. Thank you for putting the phones back on the chargers for me. Thank you for taking video of the boys when I am not home because you know I don't want to miss anything. Thank you for letting me experiment with hair styles.

Thank you for meeting me at the door whenever you hear me drive up. Thank you for putting up with late-night typing even after the third time I've said, "It's my LAST paragraph." Thank you for watching "The Biggest Loser" with me even though you hate it.

Thank you for checking in Jack and the Epipen into Sunday School each week, for bringing in empty cans and stinky sippie cups from my car, for filling my gas tank, and for stopping at SONIC for me even though we're running late. Thanks for putting my keys on the key hook and the fitted sheets on the boys' beds.

Thanks for coming home after a long day and being willing to grill dinner. Thanks for eating corn and macaroni as your two "vegetables" several times a week. Thanks for taking your lunch to work, splitting meals with me at restaurants, and driving a cash car without a grill in order to allow me to stay home with the boys.

You hate to make a big deal about your birthday, but you ARE a big deal. We've been through some tough times, but you have always believed in us. I thank God for that because I can't imagine my life without you.

Happy Birthday, Sweet Husband.

That's our boy.

I decided yesterday to show off the fruits of my labor and get Davis to demonstrate his object retrieval skills for Daddy. I laid out several household items and asked Davis to bring them to me, one at a time. Jeff was amazed as Davis brought the correct item to me every single time. I was so proud and I could tell it surprised Daddy. The newfound one-on-one learning time with Davis is really starting to pay off.

After our successful "trial run," I say, "Get the camera. Let's have him do it again." Needless to say, he did not get a single one right and completely lost interest in the process altogether. Jeff and I were cracking up.



When Davis is done, he's done. He is smart as a whip (if I may say so myself) but he definitely lets us know when he's ready to move on to the next thing.



Yep, that little face pretty much sums it up.

Immersed.

I almost fell asleep in church today. Who am I kidding? What I really mean to say is, I almost stayed awake. It feels like it has been one of the longest weeks of my life.

We are completing a study at church we're calling "Immersion" in which we listen to the entire New Testament on audio (with voices and music and everything) in 40 days... just 23 minutes per day. The free CD's, MP-3's, and Bible sticks were handed out to everyone who walked through the church doors. It was to start Monday - the first day of school.

Last Sunday, as soon as the assignment was given I realize now that I had immediately allowed myself to be exempt. Sure, all the other families were starting school too, but I knew I hadn't room for ONE more thing on my plate and I knew better about how much I could handle. It was better for me accept that I'd skip the first week than feel like a failure when I couldn't manage it all.

Monday morning, the "Immersion" experiment began. As the week dragged on I felt more like I was DROWNING than anything else. As I struggled to stay afloat, I started justifying, "See... there is NO WAY I could have squeezed in another thing. I mean, look at me! I am a total mess! Imagine if I had tried adding the tapes on top of this?!"

As I half-listened to Pastor Jeff today, thoughts of "it all starts again tomorrow..." started to take over my mind. "Tomorrow, it's early bedtime again, backpacks again, we're out of milk again..." I started wondering what doors God was going to open for me as far as work goes. Would the door include full-time? What doors would that extra money open? What door would that huge decrease in medical insurance open? Would a daycare opening come up?

Jeff squeezed my hand at one point, snapping me out of it.

Jesus instantly reminded me that He IS the DOOR! He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. I started to imagine how different last week would have been if I had made the priority listening to His Word, for just 23 minutes a day. The truth of the matter is, if I am not immersed in God's truth, then I am immersed in something else. This week, it happened to be that I spent the week immersed in pity, selfishness, pride, and busyness of the world.

The texture of each day would have felt so different had it started or ended with an escape... not an escape into housework, phone calls, or blogging... but a meaningful escape into God's Word... our Living Instruction Manual.

The goal this week is to become immersed in the Story, immersed in God's Word, and immersed in TRUTH. God stands at the door and knocks. He is a gentleman and will never force His way into our homes, minds, or our hearts. He has the answers for us because He IS the answer. This week I will let Him back in - back into my home, back into my schedule, and back into the driver seat of my racing mind.

My attempts to be in control last week have left me utterly exhausted. I need rest. Thank goodness His arms are always open so I can find rest in Him.

It's a New Day. Again.

I dropped Jack Everett off at the curb this morning and he confidently marched off to class wearing his Scobee tee. He called out, "LAST day of SCHOOL!!!" I drove off wondering if he understands that he will be coming back Monday. (This ain't Vacation Bible School, buddy...)



After Davis spent some time "feeding the puppy" and "hitting Mommy's camera with the plastic food" this morning, I decided I am going to take him to Open Gym at Sunburst Gymnastics at 11:00am.

We'll see how it goes.

I am having such a hard time.

I am exhausted, disoriented, and pretty darn emotional. I can cry at the drop of a hat. Just ask me how it's going and I will prove it. Davis is also pretty out of sorts. I am sure he is picking up on my melancholyness. This morning he wandered into Jack's room and looked around saying, "Bubba... bubba... bubba?" After which, of course, I cried.

I hardly know what to do with him during the day. That seems weird to say, but when I was home with Jack at this age, we read book after book, did repetitive language drills, counting, sorting, etc. Baby Jack sat still, soaking in one quiet activity after another. He went with me to get pedicures, sat quietly through long lunches with friends, and was a deep sleeper at nap time.

Davis... not so much... on pretty much any of the things I just said. He goes from pulling on the Monster cable, to the remote drawer, to the electrical outlet, to yanking the lever off the recliner, to the drawer under the stove, to tipping the kitchen chairs. And then back.

I feel like I am telling him "NO" all day. I bring out blocks to stack and that turns into, "Don't hit the TV with a block! Davis, no no!" I get out wooden puzzles, "Don't throw puzzles at the dog! We're gentle with Sadie..." I pull out a bucket of toys, "Davis, where are you?" Oh, eating baby wipes, of course.

All of the doors are closed. All the time. The DVD's are blocked by two wicker blanket hampers. The top two blankets are out of said hampers because he can reach in and remove them now. The remote drawer and oven drawer are now secured. The treadmill is unplugged, plants put away, dog food up high. We had to do NONE of this the first time around. "Davis, the CD-RW's do NOT go in the toilet! JAAaaaaaackkk!!!! How many times have I told you, you HAVE to keep this bathroom door SHUT!!!"

It's entirely too hot to take him too many places in the afternoon, and he's still very much in need of his AM nap so the morning errand-window is short as well. Praise the Lord for the two-naps, because I need at least one a day as well. More often than not, I am tempted to take him to the store just because the carts have harnesses. But, what would I buy and with what money?
I just want to sit here and cry. Oh, and eat. His dimpled smile goes from ear to ear pretty much ALL DAY LONG and it breaks my heart that he's probably wondering why his Mom seems so exasperated with him all of a sudden.

Well, this morning I hit a low point with him. He was trying to tip over the wicker hampers again and I had said "No" and redirected him at least a dozen times. He was whining and throwing himself onto the carpet starting a mini-tantrum. "Davis, Mommy said NO!" He went back to the hamper, lifted the lid, yanked on the linen liner and I finally pulled him away and spanked his hand. Hard. He was crying and rolling around.

I went back to the hamper to straighten it back up. I lifted the lid and what did I see? His fresh milk cup had fallen into the hamper. My heart instantly jumped up into my throat and I felt just awful! Poor baby. All teary-eyed I scooped him up, hugged him and rocked him (for two seconds before he wriggled down), apologizing over and over. He, of course, holds no grudges and gives me pat-pats and a big toothy smile, but I still feel horrible. After all, there had been REAL tears in his little eyes and I am sure he did not understand why his Mother was not helping him get to his milk.

So today I prayed that God would renew my spirit, get me through this tough week of transition, and clearly remind me how precious this time alone with Davis really is. I also pray that I will find some new activities (can you say swingset!?), parenting tricks, and training tools to be an effective teacher and loving mother to this unique little rascal.

I guess no matter how many children you have, each one is an entirely unique experience. Just when I thought I had a fully-stocked bag of tricks for raising toddlers, I am realizing I need to start over with an empty bag. Some of my techniques will work for Davis and many will not. That's scary to me, but today I need to embrace it.

I want last week back. I want summer back. I want my mornings back, my routine back, my play group back, and most of all, I want Jack Everett back. I dropped my baby off at school and a different boy came off the bus. He's bigger, he doesn't need me to help him with his backpack, he doesn't feel like sharing about his day, and he certainly doesn't want to "snuggle" his Momma when she needs it most. Oh, and he rolls his eyes.

Tomorrow is Friday and I am ready for this week to end. I am going to dinner with several amazing Moms from our church tonight and I just hope they don't ask me how Kindergarten is going. Chances are it won't come up since most of them home-school (and I am starting to understand why), but I feel like if it does I will start crying right there at Salsalito's. I have already decided if I start to feel like crying, I will just eat faster.

It's worked for me for thirty years, so why stop now?

Pooped.

Day Two - About 20 minutes after we got home from the bus stop.

After receiving several immediate responses to my Facebook status that read: "Experienced Moms, how long should I let him sleep?", I promptly woke him up from his peaceful slumber.

No naps... push through... early to bed. I am learning.