Feelin' Like A Super Star!

Hee, hee! It's 12:04 am and I am blogging. I am blogging...ALONE! T fell asleep on the sofa with his Fine Woodworking mag in hand and has been sleeping soundly for about three hours...the kids were tucked into bed long ago...and the house, the quiet, peaceful house, is all mine. My eyes are heavy and I am very tired, but how can I let sleep overcome me when I have this wonderful quiet all to myself? So...after finishing several freelance jobs...and still having two screaming at me to finish them...I decided to blog.

I also decided to include a random splattering of pictures throughout...enjoy!


(MW and I made cinnamon toast..)

Last night I felt like a super star! I couldn't wipe the silly grin off my face. Well, let me start at the beginning...you already know MW has croup. Well, we went to the Dr. yesterday afternoon for little man's 18 mo check up and for MW to have her 4 yr check up (a little late). T called around 3 to say he was heading home. I told him we'd miss him due to the Dr. apts...and he offered to meet me there! Hallelujah! If you have more than one child, you understand why this was a wonderful offer I could not refuse!


(T, in Venice...ahhh....Italy...another post...another day...)

So T and I caught up on one another's days while our children rubbed snotty noses with all the other snotty nosed children. T3 touched every surface, including a few patient's shoes, and promptly put his hands in his mouth. MW found an m&ms container on the floor under a table and asked if she could eat what was left of them..."no." I'm sure we'll be back in a few days! Anyway, finally we get called back and we were just chaos. MW was fretting over the possibility of getting a shot. Every two seconds (no exaggeration) she was asking, "am I gonna get a shot?" T3 was stripped to his diaper and because who knows how many kids have puked on that floor I insisted he wear his shoes...his camo cowboy boots! So he's climbing up on the bench in nothing but his diaper and boots and is squealing as he jumps off the bench to T. MW is fretting and asking about those shots in between pushing T3 out of the way so she could jump. The nurse wants to know who's been sick with what, and a hundred other questions. It was crazy...and I was thankful for T!


Both kids look great and get the thumbs up! And then...the shots...T3 had to have FOUR shots. MW also had to have FOUR shots and the flu mist! When the nurse came in with eight needles and asked who wanted to go first...do you really think there was even a question? MW jumped off that exam table before I knew what was happening and sacrificially let her bro go first.

He howled. I guess I'm hard hearted, but I've never cried when my little ones have gotten shots. I always think "how fortunate we are to live in a country where our children can be vaccinated and have such wonderful access to doctors." (I also play a variation on that sentence through my head again and again and again when I'm on the exam table at the ob/gyn...) All that to say, I didn't get even slightly teary when T3 wailed - and he wailed!

And then it was big sister's turn! The nurse quietly instructed T to hold her arms down FIRMLY and to lean over her so she couldn't see...we encouraged MW that she is very brave, etc. Whatever...I should've saved my breath. Her response to our encouragement, "I'll be braver next year."

So she cried and screamed. She was tough and brave. She cried hard, really hard. That made T3 cry hard, really hard! It also, for the first time ever, made me get teary eyed. We finally got them settled. T3 was playing with the sticker the doctor gave him and MW was whimpering. Then she said she couldn't walk...AT ALL! And T carried her out! At this point it was almost 5pm. I had planned to cook at home, but in light of four shots and a little one who still had croup, we offered to take her to her favorite restaurant...no good. She wanted to eat at church!

Well, that threw my plans - not that I minded not cooking, but since she was sick with croup, our plan was to eat at home and show up a few minutes before Bible study (T and I both teach on Wed. nights). We'd drop T3 at the nursery as usual and MW would color at a table in my room, away from her peers. Well, now that we were doing dinner things looked different. (Mind you, we had the go-ahead from the doctor to go to school Thursday and she hadn't run fever for 24.) So we did dinner at the church and the children's choir sang at the end of dinner - which included MW. I couldn't tell her "no, you can't sing with the choir 'cause you've been sick." So we let her sing...and from there she went on to her normal catechism class. I thought all was well...until after class was over. She came into my classroom and saw me packing up and saw the girls leaving and she broke into tears..."I wanted to come to your Bible study! I thought I was going to do your Bible study!" And so, with nothing but humility in my heart (SLIGHT exaggeration! I mean, I never realized how much my heart had this hidden longing for my own flesh and blood to beg me, in tears, to teach her God's word!) I told her that since T had a meeting, I'd take her to Sonic for a limeade and we'd go home, put T3 to bed and I promised her we'd pop popcorn put on our jammies and pile into our (mine and T's) bed for Bible study.

"No boys?"

"No boys."

And that's just what we did. (Might I add that little man put away an ENTIRE small limeade in the five minutes it took us to get from Sonic home?!!!)

So we put T3 to bed and we put on our jammies and piled into the bed and that's when the fun started.

This is a paraphrase of our hour long "Bible study" time. (Now, keep in mind, MW shows up with her little white New Testament from Aunt Katie and Uncle Matt - the same one we found her reading UPSIDE DOWN while sitting on the pot! (she was almost three then..) This is the same one I caught her highlighting with a green marker and the same one she takes to church EVERY Sunday! And the same one that she has recently cut off the majority of the ribbon bookmark - I haven't asked her about it and she hasn't offered. Aunt K - I hope you aren't sad and I hope you don't feel like we've not cared for that Bible. It remains beautiful on the outside and the inside is a story of love...in more ways than one! MW insists on keeping it on her bedside table. Anyway...) So there we were in bed. I handed her an extra copy of our lesson from that night.

MW: Oh my dear, thank you for inviting me to your Bible study.

J: Oh, well you are welcome.

MW: What is your name? My name is (and she said my full name), but you can just call me Jenn.

J: Oh, well.

MW: Your home is lovely. Did you arrange it yourself?

J: Well, as a matter of a fact I did.

MW: Well, where are you planning on moving this bed to?

J: Well, I kind of like it right here. Do you have another suggestion?

MW: Well, not right now.

J: Well, we've been studying James, so let's turn to the book of James.

MW: Oh, I know just the book and I know James! I am a grown up, but sometimes I need help finding his book. Would you help me a little?

So I helped her.

MW: I need a pen. I have a little girl named MW. All the time she likes to pretend that she is me and have Bible study. She is just so cutey.

J: Really?

And the night went on and on like that. We ate a lot of popcorn and sipped a lot of limeade. I did get a little teaching in there and we did spend some time praying. MW really let loose last night. Normally she's not too concerned with spilling her heart before the Lord, but last night, she spilled. It was sweet.

And then I drew her a butterfly while she "took notes" on her Bible study lesson. (Taking notes amounts to lots of letters written in absolutely no specific order...unless you ask MW.) After I tore out her butterfly she asked me to make her another. So I did. And then she made them fly. One flew to me and she said, "Oh, my name is JJ. Will you marry me and what is your name?" I told her my butterfly's name is Grandpa J. Then she made them kiss. (Just a peck.)

Could I just break into that little brain and see what's going on in there??? My four year old thinks I'm cool! She made me feel like a super star! (I've heard the cool factor pretty much disappears about the time she turns 6 or 7...so I've gotta milk it while I can!) Rock on!