Coffee pot kisses.

My day began with the sudden awareness of urgent little feet running up the stairs, and the quick heavy breathing of an excited little boy.  Harrison.  I knew it was him simply by the familiar sound of his footsteps, and the sound of his breathing.  I thought to myself, "Oh, here we go!"  As the bedroom door flew open, he yelled "Angelina Ballerina was on today!"  My sweet husband bolted upright from his sound sleep, as if he had just heard a gunshot go off.  Now that our dear son had  thoroughly dashed any hope of a casual awakening on this fine Sunday morning, Harrison turned and ran right back downstairs to watch his favorite show.  My handsome husband laid back down on his warm pillow and muttered, "Let the noise begin." 
I'm not sure how Sunday mornings go at your house, but at MY house, it is a delicate balance of trying to enjoy the last day of the weekend, and trying to get a bunch of boys cleaned, fed, and ready for Church.  And let me say, Church for us is not something we do, it is who we are.  Friday night's are for date night, and Sunday's are for Church.  Saturdays are open for interpretation.  So, my beloved and I groggily pulled ourselves out of bed, to begin the list of tasks that needed to happen in order to get us to our usual Sunday destination.  We operate as a silent, but efficient team.  One of us pulled out the breakfast food, and milk, as the other one retrieved the baby, who was by now awakened by the sounds of his older brothers singing and dancing loudly to Angelina Ballerina on the floor just below his room.  One of us gathered clothes for the shorties to wear to Church, as the other one packed up the diaper bag.  It's always a blur as to who does what.  But somehow, someone, ALWAYS puts on the coffee to brew.  It's as if, it is our magical task that gets done, without asking, without thinking, without recognition, but without a doubt, is the most important task that gets done in the midst of our busy mornings.  And I don't know if it's the intoxicating smell of freshly brewed coffee that draws us to the kitchen, or just by chance, but my beloved and I always finding ourselves standing face to face, in front of the coffee pot.  I can't tell you how comforting it is to know, that in the midst of our morning chaos of missing shoes, and answering the goofy questions like, "Will I get sunburned at church?  Should I wear sunscreen?", I can always find peace in the fact that my best friend will be waiting for me in front of that coffee pot.  No matter what is going on, I know that I will always get a kiss and strong hug in front of the coffee pot.  It's as if, it is our "romantic destination" for the day.  Just as I know the sound of each of my childrens footsteps coming up the stairs, I know that the smell of fresh coffee brewing will bring me to the coffee pot, to meet my beloved, and I will get my morning kiss. 
And these, are the moments that I cherish in life. 

OK....I suck at blogging

My name is Kristin, and I SUCK at blogging.  This was a great idea, in theory, by a friend who is just an amazing Mother, Wife, Christian, Worker, Dish Washer, and Laundry folder, and she showers and puts on makeup EVERY day.  She is HOT, and her hubby is a lucky guy.   I say this in all honesty, she really is.  Yae....good for her.  Well, let me just say, that I not only suck at blogging, but I have PILES of laundry in my room in random baskets, just yearning to be folded, and I usually run my dishes from the previous nights dinner, while I am making my morning coffee.  You have done it too, so don't be all "Oh my goodness!"  Plus, I work nights, so my nights tend to run over into the next day.  I DO shower everyday, but I rarely wear makeup, and "hot" is probably the least descriptive adjuctive there is for me.  There.  You have the dish.  I try my best to get to this dang blog, but let me say, that there are usually 428 things that hit me all at once during the course of any given day, like a battering ram against my head, that usually interfere with me actually sitting down to type it all out.  That's why I love Facebook.  You say it....your done....at the end of the day, you see what your "friends" have to say about it.  Why does blogging have to be so "interactive" anyway?  When are they going to invent some sort of contraption that will just read my thoughts, then put them down to print?  Oh....did they already do that?  Sorry, I don't even text, so I'm a bit behind.  I will once again blame it on "the others" who so lovingly occupy my time. 
I DO love to write.  And I DO love people.  Especially the ones that God put me directly in charge of on this earth.  Let me say, that I have SO many people who say "write that book!" and I am writing.  Maybe not as speedily as I need to.  (again, I blame "the others" because they can be SO distracting!) 
So here is my challenge to myself.  1. I challenge myself to POST on this stupid thing (the blog) at least 3-4 times a week.   2. I challenge myself to post without going through 600 proof reads because I fear you all will judge my grammer and punctuation.  "JUST POST IT WOMAN!" (said by my 18 y/o "other")  3.  I will apply my favorite scripture, "Don't be afraid, just believe" Mark 5:36  Because fear, is Satan's way of stopping us from doing what God has called us to do in the first place. 
There you go.  I just rambled, and I won't proof read it. 
Kristin
a.k.a. Kiki

The questions of a 3 yr old.

This morning, as I tried to drink my first, precious sips of coffee to get my day started, I could not help but notice that my 3 y/o son, Harrison, standing next to me in his frog pajamas, already had a few questions for me. Now, anyone who has lived with a 3 y/o knows that on any given day, they ask about 783 questions, usually in rapid succession, most of which make no sense, and have absolutely no answer at all.  For the most part, I am able to  muttle thru them with a quick Yes or No, and move to the next task at hand.  There are those questions that require more attention, and time to explain, and occasionally will leave me a bit amazed at their level of understanding of some pretty deep things.  But for the most part, their questions are an odd concoction of thoughts and ideas, mixed in with things they hear from friends or on T.V., and are usually somehow tainted with what their immediate needs are, such as what they are about to eat, what they are about to do, or if they need to go to the bathroom.   I decided to jot down some of the random questions one day as they were being shot in my direction, and let me say, the results were rather interesting.  Here is a sampling, of the peculiar thought process of a 3 y/o boy.  

Do I have lungs?  Do cats drive?  Is the Easter bunny coming today for New Years?  Who's bringing us dinner?  Do my drums make me cough?  If I take a shower will I melt?  Did you know green, smells better than red?   Do germs make music?  If I stick my finger in my ear, will I pop my brain?  Can I be in charge?  Can I go to Texas today?  What comes out of my belly button?  Do dogs have mom's?  Where does dark come from?    Do you allow monsters in the house?   What happens if you punch yourself?   Why do you have white speckles in your hair?  (white "speckles" at my scalp, indicate a touch up is needed)  Does our house run out of batteries?   Do you know anything about bats?   Do you know anything about chocolate?   Do you know anything about worms?   Do you know anything about aliens?   Do my muscles smell good?   Do bugs poop?   Are you going to grow little someday?    Does Jesus live in me?  Is he all squished inside of me?   Does he want to get out?   Where did I come from...Costco?   Did you have a coupon to get me out of your tummy?   When I grow up, can I marry you?   Can it be my birthday today?   Can it be my birthday tomorrow?   Can it be my birthday on Saturday?   Why do my fingers always stick to my hands?    Why does it get dark when I close my eyes?   Mommy, are you a girl?   Does Daddy know you are a girl?   Do cowboys know how to dance?   Do cowboys like to eat popcicles?   If bugs are lost, do they cry?   Can I have a gorilla?   Can you put the refrigerator in the mailbox?   Does my feet need to potty?   Why do my feet like shoes so much?   Do you think my poop is pretty?   Do you think YOUR poop is pretty?   Do trees get mad?   If I play baseball, will my head hurt?    Why can't I fly?   Why do you like to wash dishes so much?   Can I drive?   Does our fish have a cell phone?   Why doesn't our fish have friends?   Can we go to Disneyworld after dinner?   Why does Daddy kiss you so much?   Do you love Daddy or something?  (the answer to that is YES!!!) 

After writing these down thru the course of the day, and reading back over them, I had to laugh at myself, remembering an incident earlier in the day, when I had actually tried to reason with him about why he needed to eat something for lunch, other than his favorite, peanut butter banana.  My question to him about what he might want to eat, other than his favorite peanut butter banana, must have been as bizarre to him, as some of his questions were for me.  Clearly, reasoning was not something I should have attempted with a 3 y/o.  The direction that their little brains go, at any given moment, can be excited, entertaining, and frightening, all at the same time.  It's always a reminder to me, that they absorb EVERYTHING happening around them, and I must mind my actions and words, because they will always mirror it, and usually have more than a few questions about it.  And those questions....ALL of them.... require answers.  There are the questions that they ask every single day, such as Harrison's daily question, "Who's bringing us dinner?", that you have to answer every single day, even though you  have absolutely NO idea why they keep asking such an odd question, but you can place a bet on the fact that tomorrow morning, they will ask it again.  Then there are those seemingly random questions that they ask, that give you a brief glimpse into what their minds are trying to digest and process at that particular moment in time.  The trick for me as a parent, is knowing which questions can be answered with a Yes or No, or the questions that I had better invest a bit more attention, and time.

Sleepovers are all fun.....until someone throws up.

Everett, my 7 y/o, has been asking to have a sleepover with some of his friends, for as long as I can remember.  The delay has not been if  Everett was ready, but if his friends were ready to stay a night away from home.  It has been one of the goals in his life, and he has spent many hours imagining and planning all of the fun things that he and his friends will do......most of which somehow involved explosions of some sort.  (he has a huge imagination)  With the new backyard swing/playset/fort thingy that Santa somehow managed to sneak in for Christmas, Everett felt this was the perfect opportunity to have friends over for a night of good times.  He invited 2 of his buddies to come home with us from Church to spend the day, and sleep over.  None of the boys had ever spent the night away from home, so there was discussion among the parents regarding a backup plan, just in case any of the boys stout bravery at 1 P.M., began to fade at 1 A.M.  With the security of a backup plan in place, we loaded up, and headed home.  The day was filled with lots of laughs, and LOUD kiddos running around the yard being pirates, indians, spacemen, and whatever their little brains could come up with.  At age 7, there is not a whole lot more entertainment that is needed, past their own imaginations.  They do however, need food.  So we decided to crank up the ice cream maker, and get some pizzas.  After a successful dinner, we decided it was time to institute a "calm" activity, in hopes of getting them to calm down enough to eventually go to sleep.  (yes, we dream big around here)  We laid out a huge blanket, and some pillows in front of the living room T.V., and popped in a movie, "Night at the museam, 2".  The three 7 y/o boys decided that the blanket was a boat, and NO little brothers were allowed, much to the disliking of my 3 y/o, Harrison, who was banished to the couch.  About 1/2 way into the movie, I noticed one of the boys rubbing his tummy and making a face.  I asked if he was OK, and he said he was fine, and that he must have eaten a cookie that he didn't like.  As I watched him, fidget from the comforts of the  boat blanket on the floor, up on to the couch and curl up in a little ball, much to the disliking of a very disgruntled Harrison, it became clear that we were in serious trouble.  Harrison, who was up WAY past his bedtime, and feeling a bit cranky by now, was not thrilled that now one of the boat boys had invaded his space on the couch, and kept crying that he wanted to sit in the very spot that his intruder now occupied.   After asking the obviously distressed little boy if he was OK several times, and each time him trying in vein to reassure me that he was, in fact, feeling fine, and having fun,  I decided I had better call his Mom, in hopes that she could determine if he really was feeling bad, or if I was over reacting.  As he spoke quietly to his Mom, I heard him cough one of those little coughs, that every Mother knows, precedes vomit.  Yes, there it was, and I knew what was coming next.  So did his helpless Mom, who from the other end of the phone,  yelled, "RUN to the bathroom, QUICK!!!"  That little "cough" instantly threw the entire universe into slow motion.  I watched from across the room, in slow motion, his poor body heave up every speck of nutrition he had ingested in the past 2 days.....all over the phone, the couch, the floor, and any toys lying nearby.  Gallons on vomit, rejected from his little body, projectile style, as he held my now vomit covered cell phone in his hand, and his Mom listening on the other end. 
Let me just say, that a sleepover is all fun and games, until someone throws up. Then, what began as an exciting, fun night of good times, can disolve in a matter of seconds into a chaos, that one must experience first hand, to really, fully appreciate.  My husband jumped up to help the little guy, and scooped him up to the bathroom....I ran to get a bucket and immediate towels from the kitchen.....my oldest son Hayden ran to get big towels from the bathroom, and scooped up baby Carson who was crawling directly and excitedly towards the fun....my 3 y/o Harrison, saw his opportunity to now sit on the part of the couch he so desired, and did just that, right in the middle of the vomit.....our other guest, who obviously has an aversion to vomit, began to cry, and pace back and forth, saying, "Oh no.  There is vomit everywhere.  I'd better go home now."    What started in slow motion, was now going in fast forward.  I didn't seem to have enough hands, or mental capacity, to direct everyone quick enough.  I'm trying to comfort and clean a very sweet little boy, who, as he was covered in his own vomit, was appologizing profusely for what had just happened, and at the same time trying to comfort another very distraught, obviously traumatized, little boy who was by now REALLY pacing and crying about all of the vomit, while running his fingers thru his hair, and his claims that he was now sick....HOMESICK....and that his Daddy needed to be called immediately to come and get him.  This, while telling my hubby to put Harrison, who had so triumphantly reclaimed his rightful place on the vomit covered couch,  into the shower.  At the same time, I am telling my oldest son what to do with an 11 month old baby who NOW decided he needed a bottle and cuddle from Mom, and was making his demands known.  I called the poor Mom, who had just listened in horror as her baby boy threw up at his first sleepover, and let her know what was going on.  She said she was already on the way over to get him.  I then called the other little guy's Dad, and inform him of the "issue" at hand, and to let him know his son was now, without any shadow of doubt, certain that he was ready to go home.
With all of the chaos, I had not even had one second to look at Everett, who had started this day with such excitment about his first sleepover.  As I was in the kitchen, filling the water on the carpet cleaner, I looked up to see my sweet Everett, standing in the middle of his blanket boat....the lone survivor of a deep sea adventure that appears to have run aground.  He stood there, silent and still, with tears in his eyes and his hands out stretched, as if all of his dreams had just slipped thru his fingers like sand.  Then, it was time to comfort him.   As I gave him a hug, I tried to reassure him that there would be plenty of other sleepovers, and reminded him of all of the fun he and his friends had earlier in the day.  Then his friend, who was by now feeling much better after the offending contents of his stomach had been rejected, came over and said, "I'm feeling much better now, can I stay?"  There was a slight spark of hope in Everett's eyes with the possability of salvaging this wrecked ship, to which, I had to reply, "You know, I think we've all had enough excitment for one night.  It's time for everyone to go to bed."  His other friend with the vomit phobia, never once diverted his thinking from "Yes, get me outta here quick!"  So, as my husband made arrangments with this boy's Dad to get him home to safety, our other friend was taken home by his Mom, who was so kind to stay for a bit, and helped clean up the mess. 
When all was said and done, and his friends were in the safety of their own homes, there was some comfort for Everett with a midnight run to Quicktrip for a donut, and the promise of another sleepver in the future, with even bigger plans for fun, and maybe this time, one of the fun things would involve an explosion, of some sort.

Santa's gone commercial.

There are those little things, that in my opinion, go hand in hand with Christmas.  The smell of fresh cut Christmas trees & fresh baked cookies, the song "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire", sung by Nat King Cole, and of course the one thing that every child, and let's face it, every parent, looks forward to....a trip to see the Mall Santa.  Every family has their own way of answering that question, "Is the Mall Santa the REAL Santa?  Or is he a big faker?", but our family has always viewed him as one of the real Santa's helpers.  This opinion was formed after my oldest son noticed the varying degrees of authenticity of the Mall Santa's, and their "real beard" VS "fake beard", which is a dead giveaway for a child.  So, the day had finally arrived to go see Santa, and my children were over the top thrilled!  My 2 sisters and I decided to make it a family event, and meet at the mall, along with our parents, and all 8 of our combined children.  The store hosting Santa went all out with a little Christmas village, games, coloring station, remote control cars, and all the Christmas decor anyone could possibly imagine.  The thrill of meeting Santa was somewhat tarnished, when we got up to, what we soon discovered, was Santa's secretary, and learned we had to make an appointment to see Santa.  Well...OK, appointment it is!  So we took the "next available" appointment, which was in one hour.  We took the time to enjoy the activities at the Christmas village, and company of family.  When our appointment time finally came, the kids were completely ready, and had rehearsed several times, their Christmas list to give Santa.  Our rather large, and by now, somewhat unruly, group stood before Santa's throne, waiting for the big guy to appear.  Several of Santa's security team were milling about, with those ear microphones to communicate, to make sure the appropriate people were following the appointment schedule.   We really threw them off, when we asked if we could do a group photo of my parents with all of the grandchildren, in addition to the individual family photos with Santa. There was some strategic planning on the part of the security team, but they finally came up with a plan to accommodate this request.  One of Santa's posse finally came over to the kids, and started to prep them for Santa's arrival, by asking them if they were excited, if they had been good, and....."OH MY, did they hear the "thud" of Santa's arriving on the roof?!? "  And then, thru the door he came....SANTA!  This guy was the most authentic Santa I had ever seen, with his custom made suit, REAL beard and white hair, he could have easily passed for Santa's twin brother.  I always hold my breath for a few seconds when my kids see him, because that twinkle in their eye, could go either way at this point.  The twinkle could continue in their eyes, with the delight in seeing Santa, or it could turn into the glistening of tears, as the horror of this creepy stranger, who obviously wants to eat them, sends my kids into a panic attack.   This year was no different, and it was a split decision, with my older two boys being happy to see Santa, and the younger two boys......not so much.   We managed to get the whole group picture, as well as individual family pictures, with as little trauma as possible.  By now, it was time to feed the indians, who were pretty wild at this point.  Let me just say, taking a group of 8 wild indians to the food court is never a good idea.  Getting them to actually sit in the seats to eat is next to impossible, especially when there is an exceptionally slow waiter, and the charm of a carousel looms nearby.  We managed to feed the children, in the mix of them jumping up and down in the booths, a few walks to soothe cranky babies, and more than a few threats of torture from the parents.  The kids finally got their carousel  ride and they squeeled, and laughed like lunatics the whole time.  As I watched them on the carousel, I couldn't help notice the smell of fresh baked cookies from the food court cookie store, and the smell of fresh cut Christmas trees  in the air, that was obviously being piped in from some super sized Mall air freshening system.   Then I hear Nat King Cole's voice singing "Chestnuts, roasting on an open fire....Jack Frost nipping at your nose....". 
I had to laugh, because this was obviously NOT the Christmas of my youth.  It is, however, the Christmas of their youth.  Even though Christmas has become so commercial that even Santa has to have a secretary to make appointments for his visits, and a whole team of security handlers to keep the flow of things, they will always remember their visits with him, and remember the real beard VS the fake beard Santas.  They may get their memories of the scent of fresh baked cookies from home,  because we have a fake tree, they may only associate the smell of fresh cut Christmas trees with the Mall, and it being piped in for effect.  They will have memories of cousins, Grandparents, aunts & uncles, at family get-togethers, and at Mall's, and I can guarantee, at least one of those memories will be to triggered for them by the song about Chestnuts roasting on an open fire.  No matter how Christmas memories are made, rest assured, they are made, year after year, and our children will always remember and cherish them, and in vain, try to recreate them, in the lives of their own  children. 
In the words of my favorite Christmas song by Nat King Cole,....."It's been said, many times, many ways,....Merry Christmas, to you".

Welcome to my world!

For those of you who are reading this, let me just say, thank you for your bravery.  Hanging out with me, & my family, on any level, is not for the weak hearted.  We are a lively bunch, who find great humor in some of the oddest of things.  I have been encouraged to write this "blog",  by so many of you, who read my little quips & quirks and said I should be writing these things in some way, or the other.  The term "blog" is foreign to me, as I am not very computer savy.  Someone actually had to explain to me what a blog is, (thanks Lora!)  and how it works.....or at least she tried to, anyway.  So I hope this thing doesn't explode my computer, or worse, YOUR computer! 
   As with anything new, there is a great fear, that this will not be recieved well, or WORSE, will be viewed as one of the more rediculous things I've done in my life.  Fortunately, I have plenty of people who love me, and will remind me of things that I have done, that are far more rediculous & embarassing, than writing this blog. 
   So for all of the little possative things people have said to me along the way, or offers of encouragement, I really appreciate it.