The First Race

The first race is the toughest (not really)...

I did it. I finished my first race. Mind you, it was only a 5K, but I did it. I ran it in 32.19...6th place for my age, 30th overall.

I'm now going to begin training for the next race...8 mile run on Thanksgiving Day (Nov 27th) in the YMCA Turkey Trot.

Chili's in Rockwall
1st Annual 5K run benefiting St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital

Battle Royale

We are going through a battle of the wills in our household right now.

My battle, her will.

Truth be told, there would be no battle if dear old Mom would just give in and allow Little Miss 4-Year-Old to run the house. Wouldn't that be a sight?! Peanut butter and chocolate milk for breakfast, Dora the Explorer on TV 24/7, mismatched shoes, no brushed teeth, naked barbies everywhere. What would happen to my boys?!

This particular day she has been cranky from the moment she woke up...whiny, not listening, argumentative. She has been refusing to take naps for some time now, and I usually let it go as long as she spends some quite time in her room while the boys are napping. But today...she needed a nap. I informed her of this and was immediately met with MUCH resistance. After trying to reason with her...the spank stick came out...and Momma was a-swingin'. One pop...she screamed loud (not pain loud, defiant loud)...second pop (same reaction). She would quiet down long enough for me to reach for the door knob and then the screaming would commence once again. After the third pop I had to leave the room. I cried walking down the stairs (the screaming had still not stopped...I just couldn't spank her anymore). I cried for her ignorance, I cried for the sting on her behind, I cried because I truly hurt inside from disciplining her.

Why are we rebellious by nature? I didn't teach my children to NOT listen to me. Why do we REALLY test boundaries when we KNOW the consequences? Do we think there will be a different outcome if we push it two, three, four times? Why don't we realize that whether we choose to obey or disobey we are still a slave to something.

Romans 6:16
Don't you know that when you offer yourselves to someone to obey him as slaves, you are slaves to the one whom you obey—whether you are slaves to sin, which leads to death, or to obedience, which leads to righteousness?

Marshmallows and Peanut Butter

Our sweet baby Austin has had an issue with self-feeding. At 19 months, the fact that he will still only eat Cheetos, crackers, Goldfish...basically anything crunchy, has bothered me, but I blame it on the fact that he's our last baby. I breastfed the kid until he was 15 months! I made lunch for the older kids today and decided I would make the same plate for AJ. Without hesitation he picked up his peanut butter sandwich and started chowing down! He even decided to comment on the matter...

"Mmmmm, mmmmm. Dee-shish-shish."

Later on this afternoon he was reaching for the pantry. I opened it and gave him the first thing in front of me...multi-colored marshmallows. I had tried to give them to him in the past, but he would take one in his fingers, mash it and throw it on the floor (this is the usual reaction to any new food). He grabbed the marshmallow and popped it in his mouth...and kept reaching for more!

For dinner I had made tortellini with chicken. I cut up chicken and placed it in front of him...and he ate it too! I am so proud of my little man for FINALLY making a breakthrough in his feeding today! Keep up the good work, Austin Jimmy!

I tell ya...Perseverence pays!

The Minivan Years

I know we've all heard Jeff Foxworthy's take on, "You might be a redneck..." And it got me thinking lately after our latest vehicle purchase...

"You know you're a mom when..."

- a minivan has gone from "that is such a Mom car" to "this thing has enough cup holders for everyone's juice cup!"

- you can name all of the different spots on your shirt (oatmeal, milk, spit, blood).

- you sing The Itsy-bitsy Spider in the car when you're all alone.

- a trip to Wal-mart by yourself feels like heaven on earth.

- your husband thinks you look sexy and all you did was FINALLY take a shower.

- you make your 15th trip to Wal-mart because in all of the commotion of parking, kids, and checkers you forgot the real reason you came in the first place.

- you fully understand toddler talk...you get that "potty" means little business and "podda" means BIG business.

- you spell words to other adults even when your children aren't present. You may have even been spelling words around the kids that don't need to be spelled out. "Honey, I took out the T-R-A-S-H this A.M."

- you take the opportunity to smell each baby head fresh from the bath.

- you relish the sight of peacefully sleeping children.

- you cry in the shower...laugh when they giggle...ache when they're in pain.

What a great gift. I'm so glad I'm a mom.

The Protestant Irish Fan

Being a fan of the Notre Dame Fighting Irish makes as much sense for me as being a fan of the Brigham Young Cougars. I am not Catholic anymore than I am Mormon. Yet, I am drawn by the mighty pigskin. I am consumed by the roar of the crowd...the chant of the dedicated...the rumble of the stadium. I am intrigued by the die-hard fan that paints their face (and their body) to show support for a group of individuals that don't even know they exist. It is human nature to desire oneness...we want to belong.

Notre Dame Fight Song

Cheer, cheer for Old Notre Dame,
Wake up the echoes cheering her name,
Send a volley cheer on high,
Shake down the thunder from the sky!
What though the odds be great or small,
Old Notre Dame will win over all,
While her loyal sons are marching
Onward to victory!

And hey... my kids all look great in their football jersey.

(photo courtesy of Uncle Dave)

GO IRISH!

Out of the Mouth of Babes...Part II

The kids were sitting at the kitchen table waiting on me to finish making lunch. They were arguing about whatever a four and two-year old argue about when Ashlyn informed Aidan he was not being nice. She then proceeded to let me know...

"Mom, Aidan is not being nice."

"I'm sorry Ashlyn. What isn't he being nice about?"

"I don't know, but I think we should get rid of him. I think we need to get a new Aidan...at Wal-Mart."

Ahhhh, we have taught them well. Nice to see that our four year old realizes that practically everything in our world comes from Wal-mart. Sam Walton must be doing back flips in his grave!
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I was walking down the stairs with the three A's. The dogs were down below anxiously awaiting our arrival. Ashlyn made it down the stairs first and after announcing her first place standing - aka "I win" - she stopped suddenly. She made the most peculiar, "bitter-beer" face and exclaimed, "Lady smells like dirty Cheerios!"

P. U. - Hilarious...