Fast and Furious

Our news is spreading. Since Her Highness and The Storm were told almost two weeks ago, most in the Southeast were already aware. They are excited, which is making this pregnancy even more special.

To answer the questions on ALL of your minds.... No, we're not crazy. No, we weren't "trying." Yes, there's only one baby in there. We had an ultrasound last week to prove it. Yes, we are trying our best to prepare our Pretty Princess for being the only Queen in the family. We remind her constantly that GOD knows what we need. Her response is usually something along the lines of "Well, God KNOWS I have THREE brothers, so He KNOWS I NEED a SISTER!" Explaining God to a five year old is hard. Let's face it, explaining God to an adult is hard.

And of all my favorite questions: YES, we do know how this is happening/what's causing this to happen/any other funny line you want to ask us. (well, funny to the super quick witted person making the joke. (Dripping with sarcasm)) Seriously, let's retire that one, okay? If you have said that to ANYONE in the past, please understand this out of love: it's just not that funny. And the sweet couple you are saying it to probably loves and adores their children more than anything in the whole wide world, and actually has become shy when it comes to sharing their wonderful news all because of DUMB jokes like those. Here's the thing... I'm really not being overly defensive here. If you want to make jokes at my expense, fire away. I love to laugh at myself. I'm one of five children with pesky older brothers and smart-alek sisters, so being made fun of is nothing new to me. I just like to laugh for real. Not a courtesy laugh. Not a "Tee-hee... that's so funny. But if I wasn't a lady and I had guts, I could tell you that we do actually know how this is happening. That's our problem. We can't get enough of each other...." For real though, make jokes that are FUNNY please. Duh. I'm getting off my soap box now.

We are thrilled about number five and honestly don't care either way if it is a boy or girl. Since I'm in boy mode and know what to do with them... ie: throw them in the back yard... I could definitely handle one more member of The Storm. What to call him though? Torrential Down Pour? Straight Line Wind? I'll need some help with that. What do you think? A girl would be super fun too. Oh, all the pink and matching dresses and another BIG BOW HEAD. Either way it will be a blessing for us to adore. I just worry if it's not a girl, Her Highness might quit going to Church at the age of five. Now that was a joke.

Since Thunder just woke up vomiting, I now have a houseful of babies to spray Lysol all over. Maybe if I mixed some in their sippy cups it could kill the germs in their stomachs.... hmmm... why haven't they created something like that yet anyway?? And, why do stomach viruses always have to start after 11 pm?? Like sands through the hour glass..... But, I still wouldn't trade it for the world.

Sites and Sounds around the Zoo

"We're going to be best friends forever. And when we go to Heaven, we'll be best friend Angels!"

Me: Say Cheese!

Thunder: Butt-cheese!

Me: That's gross.

Thunder: As gross as butt-cheese?

"Momma, sometimes Batman do needs a passie."

Our own little barber shop... quartet and all.

Peek-a-boo!

Riding the big wheel... Dukes of Hazard style.

You can lead a horse to the front door, but you can't make him leave.

"Momma, I've been praying EVERY SINGLE NIGHT for a baby sister...."

#5 Due November 24th... Cookie's Birthday!

Dear Future Mrs. Thunder, Mrs. Lightning & Mrs. Hail...

I would just like to apologize in advance for your husband's behavior. There is no excuse for it. I would like to say, I've tried my best, and so far, it has been in vain. Please do not take out your anger on me when you fall into the toilet at 2am because they never would put the seat down. Since the day I began potty training, I swore I would make it second nature for them to put the seat back to it's original position and close the lid. Thus far, Thunder & Lightning both REFUSE to complete this task. I still have hope for Hail, as he is not yet potty trained. Last night, as I sleepily trudged into the bathroom to do my middle of the night business, I took an oath once again, to force those two boys to help a lady out and lower the seat. Yes, I fell directly into the icy cold water, which immediately jousted me out of my half unconscious state, causing me to lay in the bed WIDE AWAKE for nearly an hour before getting back to sleep. During that hour I had ample time to think about all the things I wanted to train my boys to do better.... Not just for themselves, but for their future wives. The ones I've been praying for since I first met my baby boys. The ones who would someday (hopefully) give me loads of grandchildren. The ones I secretly hope are orphans so they'll always want me around and have a need for an overbearing mother-figure in their lives. Yes, for those girls are the ones I want to make my little men be the best they can possibly be.

Then, I fell back asleep. Woke up this morning and had a talk with Thunder & Lightning about the correct etiquette of the toilet....

"Okay, Guys. You can do this. Just put the potty seat down after you're done. That's all I'm asking. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am.... sure.... got it...." All while half listening since Scooby-Doo was blaring behind me.

Moments later, Thunder goes to the bathroom. I listened to hear if he would remember our little talk. Nothing. Not even a flush. I walk in as he's exiting and see drops all over the toilet seat, that had NEVER BEEN RAISED. I'm sure in his mind he was thinking, if he didn't raise it, he wouldn't have to lower it.

Boys are just GROSS!!!

Sorry future orphan daughter-in-laws. Still love me, okay?

There really aren't enough good songs dedicated to girlfriends.

I do realize that 80's rock is overloaded with them.... But I'm not referring to those types of girlfriends. I'm talking about MY girlfriends. The kind who take your whiny 18 month old for the afternoon, so you don't end up being questioned by DHR/CPS for "unexplained" bruises. The kind who walk into your child infested, trashed home the last week of tax season, (when you haven't seen your husband for the last six days straight since he works until the wee hours of the morning, then is gone again before your 6 am wake up call from said 18 month old takes place) and immediately engages your children with a new, fun game to keep them occupied. Once she gets them out of your hair, she walks straight to the laundry room and gets your broom and dustpan without saying a word and starts sweeping your entire house. Piles and piles of old cheerios, cheetos crumbs, and candy wrappers start to grow at her feet, as you look apologetically at her and pray to GOD immediately, "Thank-you for my sisters." No, they're not all my blood sisters, but they are still my SISTERS. The kind who laugh with you and at you for not stopping a phone conversation to scream, "If I have to tell you to get off your brother ONE MORE TIME... I'm going to hang up this phone and WEAR YOU OUT!" Which then leads her to come back over and take two more children for the afternoon, in hopes of giving you a much needed "time out" of your own.

Good Girlfriends are hard to come by. Great Girlfriends are even harder. I have the BEST. Being a single mom the last few weeks of tax season always reminds me of several things. 1. I have a wonderful husband who is very hands-on. 2. I take him for granted. 3. I don't have any idea how true single moms do it. Or moms whose husbands are in the military. I am now praying constantly for you. To me, you are the true heroes here. 4. The Girls in my life are my inner strength.

I grew up in a wonderful small town. Think Mayberry, but in color. Everybody knew everything. If something happened at 9pm, you better believe that Aunt Bea knew about it by 9:30, which meant your Momma knew by your curfew, so you might as well fess up when you walked in the door.

In our tiny Mayberry-town, there was this family who had five children. (This story is in no way related to my own parents, though there were five of us.) They lived in a single-wide trailer, on a dirt hill. ALL seven of them. When the kids were around middle-school age, the Mom left the family. Who knows why... Too many hormones raging... maybe a late bout with post-partum. Extremely late. Who knows, she never really said why. She just left. The Dad raised all five kids to the best of his ability. Worked hard building his family business, and supporting all five children both financially and emotionally. One day, after the last child graduated high school, and all the kids moved away and began lives of their own, the Dad, whose business had grown considerably over the last, oh, 10 years, finally had the single-wide hauled off the property and built a nice, big house- pool and all. Guess who returned shortly? The MOM!! And they worked things out and are living happily ever after. True story.

I'm totally beginning to understand that woman, and why she left, then came back after the worst years were over. All I know is, bless her heart, she didn't have the Girlfriends that I have, cause they would have never let things get that bad. They would have kept life in perspective, made her laugh a lot, and reminded her that this too shall pass. For that, my Sisters, I would like to express my most sincere gratitude. I love you girls, and if it weren't for you, I'm afraid I would be the town Mom who claimed post-partum and left until Bert built a huge fancy house, which The Storm was no longer invading. I owe you girls so much. Some day I hope to return the favors. For now, I just want you to know, you are loved and appreciated.

With that, I will leave you with the only true girlfriend song that came to mind....

"Thank-you for being a friend. (do-do-do-do) Travel down the road and back again. Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidant. (do-do-do-do-do) And if you threw a party and invited everyone you knew.... You would see the biggest gift would be from ME and the card attached would say, 'Thank-you for being a friend.'"

Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks...

Her Highness and Thunder are now playing t-ball. They are on the team, The Nationals, under the coaching direction of Mr. Hudson himself. They are having a ball, making new friends, and learning all the rules of America's favorite pastime. When they learned the team was called The Nationals, Thunder's biggest concern was, "What is a National? Does it eat snakes?" "Well, I guess in some parts they do." He thought all ball teams had mascots such as the tigers. He still doesn't fully understand, nor does he care. He just loves to pimp his uniform.


Her Highness on the other hand hates that the uniform has NO pink and was quite insulted that the pants were gray. "Have you lost your mind??" She asked me when I told her to get dressed. A question she hears me plead constantly to this house full of testosterone. "Momma, I've never worn gray pants before and I'm not gonna start now!" She did indeed wear her uniform, and was fine with it once she saw how cute she looked in it. Accompanied with her new flower clip, custom made by my dear friend, Ashley. There are only two girls on the team, Her Highness and her BFF, Emily, shown here sporting the precious flowa clips. They are hysterical to watch during the game. They laugh and jump up and down and clap for each other if the ball gets any where near one of them.

During their first game there were some super cute memories made... Emily ran straight to third, after her first at bat. Thunder thought he could bat again since the ball didn't go quite as far as he wanted it to, and just stood there while the pitcher tagged him out at home. And Her Highness laughed hysterically as she ran the bases each time because she thought it was so fun to be out there. She got so tickled one time that everyone in the stands began to laugh with her.

During the final inning Her Highness was tagged out just before she made it to home plate. After the game was over she said, "Momma, did you see that boy from the other team chase me and tag me with the ball?? I didn't even know him and he just tagged me!"

The nerve of that boy! I laughed and tried to explain that was the point and a lot of that would be going on during the games. She just sighed and rolled her eyes, as if the rules should be changed.

I'm sure there will be many more fun memories made this first t-ball season. We've got a sweet group of kids on the team, and fortunately some fun Mommas to sit by. Some of my good friends requested their children be put on Bert's team, so we will enjoy fussing at the coach together when the team doesn't win enough. Or when our children don't get to hit lead-off and play short-stop.

Yes, my husband is wearing black dress socks with his tennis shoes. He has always done this when changing his clothes after work. No, it's not because he's in such a hurry and it's tax season. No, it's not because he doesn't own athletic socks. He just simply doesn't care. Cause that's how he rolls... Too cool for school. That's my Babe.

Cheap Date

Our kids have been begging to go camping. Well, I'm not the camping type. I want to pee in my own potty and sleep (what little I do) in my own bed. So, I've been a great Mom and wife and kept saying, "After tax season is over Daddy will take y'all somewhere." Until that answer wasn't cutting it anymore. "Momma!! P-L-E-A-S-E!!!" They were all crying during spring break. Since Spring Break was actually "Tail End of Winter Break" and right smack dab in the middle of tax season, we didn't get to go anywhere fun. Waaaah. So, I decided to mix the kids request with my own and call it camping. Result: Super fun. Super cheap. We all win. Kids think they've now been camping.

We bought a tent and pitched it in the backyard. Bert built a "bonfire" (charcoal grill with a log in the middle) and we invited our good friends, The Fain's. Fun fact: Maureen, or as Jack calls her "Merine" is a redhead, and all three of their children are redheaded too. So, you can just imagine the comments we get when together in public with seven redheaded children running about.

We roasted hotdogs, made smores, let the kids play in the tent with flashlights, told spooky stories, sang campfire songs, and had a blast. Then, when it was time for bed, everyone went back to their own bedrooms and slept like champs. That's my kinda camping!

Mr. Beans even joined in the fun. This is a pic of the "campfire" the kids built.

Spooky stories... Oooohhhh!

Smore hugs

Rain, rain feel free to go away.

These Super Heroes have way too much energy and need to go outside and play...

So rain, rain... PLEASE go away!