middle of a vacation.

We have been at home this week... vacation time! I am absolutely having a blast with the kids. Today was day three of hanging out by the pool with the kids. So far, in the past three days, I have logged in 10 hours at the pool.

This is what happens when little boys go to timeout under trees after they skip naps.

My kids look like little brown biscuits. That is what I have been calling them. They are so toasty, and sweet. I wish I could take pictures of tan lines - but I would get in trouble.

Tomorrow, we are off to the houseboat for some family time. We are going to stay for a few days. The kids are super excited. We have done such a bad job of taking them to the lake. We had them down a couple of weeks ago and Emma saw a jet ski.... she said, so excitedly, "Look! A water motorcycle!"

It is gonna hurt when I have to go back to work next week. I am NOT looking forward to it. I like my productivity in the office. But, boy, do I miss my babies.

It's Friday and Eli's Home!

Is that exclamation point a good one or a bad one?

It could be interpreted as this:

Eli's Home! :)

or

Eli's Home! :(

Just kidding, Eli. You get the happy face. We missed you so much. You are a joy (most of the time).

My vacation starts today at 3 p.m. I will go home, clean house until about 5 p.m. I need to go to the grocery store. Then, I am off with some girlfriends for a get-together. It is a dad's night with the kids. I am hoping to spend some time talking, laughing and just hanging out. With no thoughts of school, dirty laundry or misspellings on the church bulletin. (Some people were just plain nitpicky this week, I tell ya :)) Nothing like an 8:02 a.m. phone call that informs you that your bulletin did not match up with the previous night's announcements at church.

My thoughts for next week are this: I hope to spend some time playing with the kids, at the pool, taking naps, jumping on the trampoline and being a mommy.

We will see how it goes.

A place for everything and everything in it's place.

I have some friends that are missionaries, and they write a blog. I read this just this morning... and I really liked the thought.

" A place for everything and everything in it's place"

This statement was made in reference to keeping a clean home.

There are many different places that I can apply this principle.

For example, with my recent weight issues, I think about those parts of my body that were affected by childbirth. I would like some things back in their normal place(s). Where they are supposed to be. Oh, well.

And, on the family side, I can apply this to the actions and attitudes of my children. I have to teach them that there is a time and a place for everything, right?

As far as my house goes, well, I have always liked this. When we had ONE kid, it was easy. I love to know where things go. I ABHOR disorganization. Unfortunately, my family of five does not feel the same way as I do. I really don't understand that why cabinet doors are not shut after plates are taken out, why empty juice boxes can't go into the trash can, and why chairs are not pushed up after the sitter-inner has gotten up from said spot.

As I have examined my thoughts on this subject just recently, I know why I do not like disorganisation. It comes from my childhood, when my family and I lived in "that house".

You know... "that house" that you passed by on the school bus, the one with the un-mowed yard, with junk sitting outside, the paint peeling off? Well, that was my house. I absolutely hated growing up in that environment. I wanted parents who took care of what we had - or didn't have - and I wanted cleanliness and organization. I knew- JUST KNEW - that when I grew up and got married, and had my own children, that my kids would not go thru what I did.

And they don't.

When I get angry, stressed out, or frusterated, I clean. I mop. I dust. I like to do housework.
A clean house is a happy house. That is my thoughts.

Well, this has taken a whole 'nother direction that what I meant for it to. I could tell some stories. But I won't. Not today, anyways.

Sunburn. Ouch.

We had a busy, busy weekend. Well, a busy past-week for that matter.

It all started when Emma Bell made a family time to-do list last week.
It went something like this:

1. Play in the yard.
2. Watch a movie.
3. Eat popcorn.
4. Sit around the fire.
5. Go swimming at the lake.
6. Have a picnic.
7. Have Mallie over.

Let's just say, over the past few days, we have done everything except #4.

And several of these, for instance like #5 (without the lake part, everytime) and #7 , we have done several times. Feeling extremely waterlogged and sunburned, I will say that we have had an wonderful time of being together and doing lots of "stuff".

As for this week, well, Eli has gone on to Short Mountain Bible Camp. I am sure he is having a great time of not bathing, not washing his face and not doing dinner dishes.

Tripp has his last ballgame tonight.

I love summertime.

I had an epiphany. Its not good.

Yesterday was picture day.

Family picture day.

I realised that I am fat.

I am fat.

Oh, I am not supposed to say that anymore. Dave told me not to say that I am F*T anymore.

As I started thinking about being F*T, I realised that I needed to own it. O.W.N my f*tness.

And I discovered, while I was deep in my special thoughts, that I haven't even weighed in a couple of years. It seems that in the past couple of years, I have let lots of things go.

I knew I had gained weight. My clothes don't fit. I had already examined, purchased and decided to own that fact. I talked about it freely.

Yet, the amount of weight I have gained, well, I had no idea. And it is there. ugh.

So, anyways, I have decided it is time to get rid of it. I have a belief about life. You can either be a victim or be a survivor. So far, for the past two years, I have been playing victim.

I have blamed the weight gain on lots of things: depression over my mother, hungry, not smoking, stress of kids, six times of having surgery in two and one-half years.... but, truth be told, it is no one's fault but mine - I love chocolate.

I am owning it right now.

I understand that I am fortunate enough not to have gained weight in the Kirstie Alley proportions - that lady was a public figure who got her Jenny Craig diet FOR FREE and then she stepped on the scales after a year long scale-hiatus, and BAMMO! she had gained close to ninety pounds.

Talk about your clothes not fitting...

I am debating whether to start a "lifestyle change" blog (not using the word "diet" here) so that you can choose whether to subject yourself to my food-exercise rants.

Anyways, these are my thoughts for the day.

Mel

By the way, I gained 25 pounds. :)

Birds on the porch. And my favorite nature scenes.

This is the wreath on the front of my house.

I bought this at a cute little shop here in town.

I loved it and I put it by the front door when we moved in.

Aaawww!

Little did I know, that there is a bird who likes to birth her babies in this vicinity.

As I was admiring my purchase one day, I was shocked to find a little nest there.

I climbed up in a chair to take it down.

But, when I saw the little home that the bird had made,

I realised that couldn't destroy it!

Where would she have her babies at?

How would she provide?

How would I feel if someone destroyed what I had built for my children?

Several weeks later, baby birds were born in my lovely floral wreath.

Much to my dismay, one little baby bird fell out,

and its carcass is now embedded in my house decoration.

On to other scenery in my yard...

I like this picture.. this is called "Sunset Over the Garden"

Look at this rose 0n the rosebush!

This is my favorite tree in the yard.

Too bad my view is marred by some type of line.

I can't wait to take pictures in the fall. It is awesome.

Here is my grapevine in the yard.

There is a TON of grapes that are not quite ready yet.

I can't wait. yummy!




Here is the storm that came thru a few days ago.
Isn't this impressive?
It happened about 3:30 in the afternoon.
I just knew a tornodo was gonna get us. So we went to the basement.


Nothing happened.

behind in school. so i am blogging instead of studying.

I am taking a dumb, dumb, math class this semester. Geometry, to be exact.

Now, tell me, what business does a thirty-four year old mother of three have taking a Geometry class. online. in the summer. ?

For some reason, the college diploma gods think that I need this class to get that pretty little piece of paper that I covet.

I wish they would change their minds.

Of course, this is no different than what I go thru every.semester.

Every semester, I complain of the difficulty of specific classes. MATH classes, in particular. Really only these math classes that are so, so hard for me. I think I have a math disability.

I told Dave last night that if it was an English class, I could just whiz thru it. I guess that is why I took all my English/writing classes first.

If I don't get caught up, I will have to drop this class.
Off to study.

Funny. So. Funny.

So, last year, I discovered this lady who writes a blog... and I love her writing.



She is seriously amusing.



And today, she wrote Thursday Confessions on a Monday. Seriously, I want her to be my friend.



But I am not Mormon. Does that matter?



I crack up everytime I read her blog.



To my sister Melissa, you should check her out.



I could do a confession every day. Maybe I will.



I am going to be a copycat and do my own Monday Confession.

Here We GO!

Mel's Confession Monday (now Tuesday)

1. I am sick and tired of being at work. I am dying for a vacation. And a clean house.

****Update**** I am scheduled for time off of work the week of June 26th)

Horray for me!

2. I want to drop my class this semester. I am overwhelmed. I need a break. And I hate Math. Now I hate Geometry.



3. I am sick and tired of all the whining crybabies in my life. Including myself. Being one myself, it just makes others harder to take. There is no more room for whiners. Just me.



4. I was accosted this past week and it is my own fault. I tried to save 19 cents a lemon. And I was attacked for it.

5. I believe that if people in your life cause you mental issues, you can cut them out. I may be wrong. But it makes life easier.

6. I am living a never ending, full blown battle with dirty clothes in the house. Seriously, I am thankful for summertime and the lack of socks that I have to wash and fold. But soggy towels and washcloths seem to be everywhere in the house. They multiply like rabbits.

7. I hadn't done dishes in several days. I realised it yesterday when I stuck my hand in the bottom of my kitchen sick. There was a slimy dish towel. And slimy water. Yuck. So, I came home from work and proceeded to bleach the kitchen. Now I am happy.

8. I have had recent injury to one of my eyebrows. My last eyebrow waxing left me with a missing portion of my left middle brow. Now, I am spending time waiting for it to grow back. As punishment, the other parts of my eyebrows are now conjoined and I am becoming Uni-brow (but with one missing section).

Whew! I feel better.

A cranky working mommy.

you really know that it is a crazy day when one kid falls down the slide steps at the pool, one kid gets stung ON THE EAR by a wasp, and you get a phone call to come home and wipe a butt - ALL WITHIN AN HOUR.

Guess what happened to whom?

Facebook. Friend or Foe?

Ah, Facebook.

Where was I before I found you?


I will tell you where I was. I was secure, in my own little world. All of those "special friends" that I had made throughout grade school, high school, single years, and married years were all stored in their own little file. Now, all of those friends are mixing together, haunting me with different stories of what I have done in my life. Ugh.

Another issue that I have with Facebook is the hilariousness of people who don't speak to me in public, yet they want to be my "friend" on the internet. I think that they are referred to as "friend whores." So, what I do is this. I hit the IGNORE button, and bam, they are gone. For a short time. Then, they resurface. Again, and again. I just have an issue with sharing my everyday life stories with people who pass me at the Food Lion, and won't make eye contact.

I do love the Facebook feature that allows me to pick and choose who of my "friends" see what of my profile and pictures. But, really, if you think about it, shouldn't you feel comfortable enough to share with everyone?

I enjoy seeing what my "real" friends are doing. My tryst with Facebook begain after my mother- in- law joined. She called me and taunted me, saying "I am on Facebook; are you?" Not one to be outdone, I ran straight to the computer, and I joined up, too. Soon after, Dave joined. Then came Eli. There was an outpouring of Sadler family members. Soon, there was a Sadler group. Almost like a small Sadler-ville. "Well, this is nice," I thought.

Well, it was nice until people I hung with in a previous life found me. Then, I felt like a dirty, shameless hussy. Not really. But, it is kinda creepy to have all these people in one place. It is like a life reunion. Without the good food.

I know that there is a solution that allows me to go back to my regularly scheduled life. I can delete my account. But for some reason, I like knowing what happened to everyone. I like seeing the pictures of kids, vacations, and hearing about general day-to-day activities.

A busy week.

Lots of things going on this week.

The kids -Emma and Tripp - are in swimming lessons again this week. This time, they are in the mornings. Tripp is such a morning kid (not!). He has a routine that he likes to follow when he gets up.
1. He comes downstairs.
2. He hugs and kisses.
3. Then, he goes to the couch and he lays down. He has to have a pillow and be covered with a blanket. And, his feet cannot show. He doesn't like to sleep with feet uncovered.
4. Then, he has to have a sippy with red juice.
5. Following this, he likes to watch Spongebob. Handy Manny does not work for him. He used to watch Wonderpets in the morning. Now they are not on - that I know of - this early.

So, his morning routine has been comprimised by the swimming lessons. And he is not happy.

Emma, on the other hand, is a fish. She is ALL ABOUT swimming... and is doing really well. She is not afraid. She has already jumped off the high dive this year. She actually has jumped for the past two years, but it takes some time to build up her courage.

Eli was a fish from birth. He is already backflipping off the diving board. And front flipping.

Remembering where I came from.

Yesterday, Dave and I were able to sneak off in the afternoon and head out to the lake WITH NO KIDS. Yes, you read right. We had NO KIDS.

Not only did we get to go to the lake, we rode the Harley. When we left, we started talking and realized that it had been two years since we had our last Harley trip.

When we got to the houseboat, I was sad to find a collection of very small diapers in the bathroom. Along with the diapers, there was a collection of small swim diapers. Guess what that means? Well, the last time we went to the lake, Tripp was a baby and Emma was a toddler. I guess we have been having so much fun at home, we forgot to visit the lake for the last three or four years.

It was nice to be back. We hung out, I got some sun, read a book and drank several cold, cold bottles of water. Later on that afternoon, we went for a boat ride.

This takes me back to many years ago. Dave and I had our first "official" date (see, Waffle House doesn't count) at the lake (well, following Red Lobster) and we went swimming at the dam about 2 a.m.

As I sat in the sunshine- on a boat- in the middle of the lake- I remembered our life pre-small children. I thought about how we used to spend the summers on the water, leaving Friday after work, and not coming home until Sunday at dark. I thought of all our midnight conversations out on the water, our trips to the A-Frame to karaoke, the obscene amount of alcohol that we consumed. I remembered how quiet the lake gets at night. I missed it all. Well, not all. Not the alcohol. :)

Sometimes in life, I get so busy that I forget to stop and take a deep breath. Thanks, Dave for yesterday. I had a blast.

Happy Birthday to my Be-Be.

Tripp arrived on June 5th, 2005 at about 6 a.m. in the morning.
It was magical.

In the end, all things worked out. Dave was there. He did all the wonderful, supportive stuff he does every time we have a new baby. He held my hand. He kissed my forehead. He told me he loved me.

In the operating room, I told Dr. Terry a big "I told ya so." He asked me if I picked up those new Oreo's at Wal-Mart the night before. I musta just missed them.

Tripp had the cord wrapped around his neck either three or four times. Dr. Terry announced it in his doctor jib jab, and unfortunately I understood his medical terminology. I had a moment of panic, then the baby cried, I cried, and the world was OK.

I thought I would be smart and so I requested NO MORPHINE because I got fever blisters when I had Emma (and was told that it was from the morphine). Boy, was I stupid. Who has a C-Section with no morphine? This request only lasted just an hour or so. By time I got back to my regular room (which combined with recovery time) I was M.I.S.E.R.A.B.L.E. And then, the nurse laid the drugs to me. Wheee!

I looked at my sweet little boy, the baby who looked like a baby version of my sweet Dave, and I was IN LOVE. Some mothers talk about falling in love with their children over a period of time. Some fall instantly. Well, I fell hard - right then.

As with all my kids, I held that connection when he was born.

Over the last four years, I have completely enjoyed being Tripper-Do's mother. He is wonderful. He makes me laugh. I enjoy his temperament. I love him just because he looks like his daddy. They have the same personalities, the same mannerisms, the same smirks. Every one of these four years have been wonderful.

I love you so much, Tripp. You will always be my be-be.

The Night Before Tripp Was Born. Part 2 of THE SAGA

June 4, 2005

In the early afternoon, the contractions started again. I knew that this time, I was having a baby. So I started getting ready. I vacuumed out the van. I ironed all of Emma's clothes for the week. About six that night, I took Emma and Eli and we went and got groceries at Wal-Mart.

While I was there, I ran into Dr. Terry.

I told him that I would see him in a few hours. He just laughed.

My contractions became much worse over time. I knew that Dave would be home about midnight, and I did not know if I would make it that long. I put the kids to bed about nine. Then I showered, put the finishing touches on my bag, and got comfy in my mu-mu. And I waited.

Around 11 p.m., Dave called. He was going to be home soon! When he drug himself in a few minutes later, I could tell how tired he was. So, I did not say anything yet. But I knew it wouldn't be long.

He walks by me in the laundry room, rubs the baby and says,"Boy, your belly is tight." So I say, "That's because I am in labor."

I would like to say that he ignored me, but that may be a little inaccurate. Maybe he was just hoping it wasn't true.

So then he says, "Are ya hungry?" So I cook him a cheap pizza. And he ate it. And I think I was baking cookies, too. And he ate those, too.

After some time, he turns to me and says, "You ready to go to bed?"
And then I say, "Buddy, your not gettin' it. I am in labor."
And he says, "Don't you think your are over-exaggerating?"

And I killed him. Well, not really. But I could have.
So, he gets his paper. And he starts to time my contractions.
And then he says, "well, they are 5 minutes apart." Surprise!
And then he says, "You ready to go to bed?"
And then I say, "I am calling your mother. I am having his baby tonight. You can go to bed and call me in the morning. I am going to the hospital."

We called my sweet mother in law. She came over and looked like, well, like she had just been woke up at 3 a.m. A little shocked, but a lot excited, too.

And off to the hospital we went.

Dave carried in his laptop so he could catch up on some paperwork. And, he took the papers from the previous week, so he could catch up on the latest going-ons of the town.
Imagine his surprise - about 5 a.m. - when Nurse Amanda says, "well, you are having a baby.
In about an hour."

****disclaimer****

This story is told to the best of my recollection... I was in labor. It hurt a lot. Like, really bad.

Four years ago today.

Four years ago today, I was 36 weeks pregnant.

Four years ago today, I had a 20 month old daughter. And a nine year old son.

Four years ago today, I woke up in a hotel room in Nashville, TN after visiting my husband. He had been gone for about a week. He was heading up the building of the Cheesecake Factory in Nashville.

Four years ago today, I wore denim overalls from Motherhood and a white tshirt. And flip flops.

Four years ago today, I had plans to go buy baby stuff at Babies R Us... then, go home with the two kids and finish getting my baby stuff ready. Little did I know that when I woke up and went to shower that morning, my mucus plug would dribble, or drop out, or whatever it does. It stopped the shopping plans.

Four years ago today, I ate lunch at a hamburger joint in Green Hills at the mall, and I saw on TV that the guy who was "Deep Throat" in Watergate died. I found much enjoyment of running around all day saying "Deep Throat." In my "deep throat" voice. With my 50 inch belly jiggling.

Four years ago today, my mother spent the night with me. It was one of the best times in my life. It was the first time in many years that she was "my momma." I had no idea that it would never happen again.

Four years ago today, I spent the afternoon doing laundry, and getting stuff ready because I started having contractions. Really bad contractions. I realized when I saw Dave the day before that he was so tired. so. so. tired. So I didn't tell him. And when I drove myself to the hospital that night, all by myself, at about 10 p.m., I had devised my plan of how to call Dave - just at the right moment - because I knew that I would have a one and one half hour time slot for him to leave Nashville and make it to the hospital justintime to see the baby arrive.

Four years ago tonight, Dr. Terry stopped my labor. I was PISSED. But, he said if I went into labor again, he would let me deliver. So I spent the night in the hospital and never called my husband to tell him where I was. Why give him extra worry? Well, that backfired on me, four years ago tomorrow. He was PISSED.

Four years ago today, I would have never dreamed that I would be getting ready to celebrate my last babies' birthday, in just two days. And that my daughter would be 5 1/2 and my firstborn son would be 13, so quickly. And that I would be loving my kids so much.

The Mommy Club. And what is important.

During all the years that I have been a mother, there has always seemed to be some sort of standards for mothers from those in particular groups that I have hung out with. For example, in the past five years, I have observed the importance of these things:

1. What does your husband do/how much money does he earn?
2. Where does your children go to school/what preschool are they going to attend?
3. What type of diaper bag do you carry?
4. What brand of dress is your daughter wearing?
5. Do you have cool sippy cup labels?
6. Whose child is the prettiest/best behaved/smartest?

Yes, the list goes on and on. It just changes with the age of the kid(s) in question.

Once I got "out of the loop" and became different than other "mommies in the club" by going to work and school, it seems that I have changed in caring of what the other mom's thought of me.

For example, when Emma was one (!) I was asked at a playgroup by a group of mothers "where I had her on the list for preschool." Well, I had no list. I didn't know about a list. How could I not know about a list?!?

See, such things were always important to me. I just recently (well, as recent as today, in fact) figured out that I have always based my capabilities of being a good mother on keeping up with or outdo-ing others.

That is not what makes a good mother at all.

A good mother is made up of time, hugs and kisses, playing, cuddling and listening. There are so many qualities that make up a good mother. But, the type of dress, type of minivan, and type of activities do not define a good mother. What a relief it is for me to have this realization.

How did I come to this conclusion, you ask?

Well, as Tripp turns four this Friday, I am preparing for his birthday party - but I just started today. This is foreign for me. I am always months ahead in planning, down to the theme-matching outfit, color coordinated goody bag contents, and the coordinated brother-sister outfits. Yet today, my dad had (yet another) heart procedure, summer school has just started, my house is a wreck and I work a full time job.

As I started with the goody bags, I had an epiphany.

Tripp doesn't care.

The only person that cares is me.

The kids - as well as the party-goers - will not remember anything about the decorations, whether Tripp's swimming trunks matched his cake, or whether the color of the cups matched the color of the potato chips.

They will remember having fun.

Tripp will remember playing, laughing, and being with family and friends on such an important day.

And that is the most important thing. This knowledge will help me be a better mother.