Out of the mouths of babes

Here's some funny things Claire has said the past few days:

"I've got gas." (In reference to her shopping cart going to a gas station. Of course, this was followed by an accident in her new panties.)

"I love my big sister." (Yes, she has a hard time distinguishing herself from her brother.)

"I want a coupon."

"Where is her mommy?" (In reference to every character in every book I read her.)

"I'm a Kick-a-Poo Indian!" (Actual tribe. I've been calling her that since she was a baby and would kick her dirty diaper....You get the picture.)

Fat

This morning I was trying to take advantage of cancelled activities to exercise with my "Arms and Abs of Steel" video. My arms and abs remain flabby and the video remains paused in the VCR.

I was interrupted during my 15-minute workout by:
one phone call
one poopy diaper
one load of laundry
one crying toddler who walked right into the 3 lb. weight I was swinging
one giant glass of water spilled

The workout is, as I said, only 15-minutes.

Panties and patience

Today is day 11 of Claire wearing panties. She is officially potty-trained, kind of.

I wasn't pushing her. We've been working on it off and on for over a year. Santa brought her a singing potty for Christmas 2007. We've done bribery, celebrations, explanations, peer pressure, and many other techniques, but I finally just had to bite the bullet and do it.

The catalyst was when she was at a playdate and told the mom that she needed a diaper change. "If she's telling you that," the mom said, "She's ready." The next day we were in panties with few objections.

That's not to say we haven't had any accidents. The first couple of days were rough, with pee-pee and poo-poo accidents, but we're getting better. I'm also getting more observant to her body language.

Sometimes it's real hard to figure out what she's telling me, like when she crawled under the table the other day and hid. She kept putting her hand on her backside, feeling for something. It was pretty funny, but what was hilarious was Adam laughing so much about it that he imitated her later. (She was unaware.) So a hint to all those potty-training parents out there: When your kid hides under the table and grabs her crack, she probably needs to go potty.

We're doing much better. We haven't had an accident in two days, with the exception of church last night. I left her and Paul in the nursery for an hour. I took her potty before I left. While I was gone, she wet herself twice. The nursery worker got so frustrated (I do understand) that she stretched Paul's diaper out and put it on Claire. Paul's bottom is so big that the 7 month old baby's diapers can be stretched to fit a 2 1/2 year old!

And now I am completely immune to being grossed out by poo.

Paul at razoo's

Claire at Happy Hopper

Paul's Baptism

Paul was baptized Sunday. It was crazy, in true Boyette fashion.

We attend Arlington Heights UMC. I was raised Baptist, but grew up knowing I didn't agree with many of the Baptist doctrines. After Adam and I got married, we joined AHUMC. We feel completely at home. Our kids do, too, which is a blessing and a curse. Claire felt so much at home on Sunday that immediately after the baptism, when we were trying to make our way back to our seats, she decided to crawl around the front of the sanctuary and declare that she was a puppy dog. I was calling her and she said, "I not Claire, I a puppy dog." I said, "Okay, puppy dog, come on."

I was so preoccupied with all the family and friends we had there and making sure everyone was okay that I didn't get to contemplate or even focus on the event. Of course I can now, but I was frustrated that I was just reading the script and not thinking about what it said.

Adam was baptized as a baby and I was baptized in third grade. Although I think it's an important thing to do, I don't believe it has anything to do with getting into heaven. I think of it just as a public declaration of a life that is (hopefully) devoted to God.

In Sunday School our friend Leigh read a passage out of a book that was titled, Being Methodist in the Bible Belt. It talked about how people are saved and how to answer the question, "When were you saved?" I liked the response...."In A.D. 33 when Jesus died for me."

Funny, huh?

Claire by the Central Market cheese

The Poop that Saves/ The Hypees that Hurt

Claire's poop saved Adam's life yesterday. Laugh, but it's true.

To tell the story correctly, I have to start at the beginning......Wednesday night, Adam came home from work about 8 p.m. and he had what we call "the hypees." He was running around the house yelling, "Hoo-Hoo-Hoo with a little razz-ma-tazz!" He was clapping and jumping and grabbing Claire and throwing her over his shoulder and wrestling her. He was hyper. It took me a while to get him and Claire calmed down to eat dinner.

After dinner, Adam said his chest was a little sore. We both disregarded it as a fluke. By Thursday morning, it was hurting a little worse, but he took some Advil and went to work.

At noon, Claire went poo-poo in the potty on her own for the first time. This was a cause for major celebration at the house, which included Sarah running around shouting and dancing. We also called Adam to celebrate with him. Claire and I were so excited, but Adam sounded horrible. His chest pain had gotten so bad he could barely move, much less talk. We left the house immediately to go take him to the hospital.

At the hospital he had all sorts of tests run and exams given. After several hours, the doctors determined that they couldn't determine anything, so they sent him home with some strong painkillers. No heart attack, no obvious heart problems, no lung issues, no broken ribs. They told him to follow up with his doctor.

Today we took him to his regular doctor who thinks he pulled a muscle with his hypees the other day. He either has an inflamed or pulled muscle.

So, it boils down to two things. If Adam's hypees hadn't been so hyper, he might not have hurt himself. And if Claire hadn't gone poo-poo in the potty, we wouldn't have called him and he might have died. So Claire's poop saved his life. Isn't that amazing?

Adam at Harris Hospital SW

Adam went to the ER for chest pains.

Peace and Home

Since last Thursday, I have left the house three times. Twice to the doctor and once to the pharmacy and library. This would drive many crazy, but not me. I love staying at home. I crave staying at home.

Everything is so calm and peaceful. We listen to music or just to each other's voices. I play with Claire and her new toys. We read books and cuddle. I clean house.

Since I quit work at the end of the school year, I haven't been home this much. I intended to, but just haven't been able to. Paul's illness grounded us and freed our schedule.

I focus so much on helping others and saving money by going to several stores that I've been missing out on what's happening at my house. It's funny because I want to teach them empathy and charity but have forgotten to teach them and myself how to relax.

I am so much happier when we stay home, so my New Year's resolution is to do more of that. I think if I do my grocery shopping on Sunday or bundle my errands into one day, we can stay home all the other days. I am learning that I need to schedule at home time. It's importance had been lost to me.

It's so amazing that instead of cabin fever, I'm feeling more like myself.

The dirtiest laundry you've ever seen

Claire just finished her bath and decided to entertain her brother in the laundry basket.

RSV

Due to our flurry of activity and apparent exposure to germs, Paul is sick with RSV. Apparently that is a Latin abbreviation for a respiratory illness. Also apparently it is quite serious.

Both kids have been sick since last week when we got back from Louisiana. Claire has made a near complete recovery but Paul is still fighting it. I took both of them to an urgent care clinic on Friday and called the doctor several times over the course of the weekend and on Monday. I felt good because they kept confirming that I was doing everything correctly. (Isn't that sad that I got a boost of self-esteem from taking care of my sick kids?)

Yesterday Paul started wheezing. I had talked to the nurse several times and we came to a consensus that I would keep up the good work and he would be fine. I called back when he took a turn for the worse. They told me to come by in the afternoon, but if he started turning blue, call them back. I informed her that if my baby started turning blue, I was calling 9-11.

So Paul does have RSV; it's been confirmed by two doctors. I have to give him breathing treatments every four hours around the clock. (I joked with Adam that he could take the 4 a.m. shift, but he didn't think it was funny. It's okay; waking up is not Adam's thing.)

And we're stuck at home. Besides two trips to the doctor, we haven't left the house since Thursday. You'd think I'd have cabin fever, but I love it. I'm playing with Claire's new toys, cleaning house a little, and cuddling Paul. So I'd like to say RSV is a real stress vacation.

Claire and the Honey Bear

Said Claire to the Honey Bear,

"I love you, Honey."

"Does he have a tail? I like tails!"

"Is Honey a boy?"

"Does Honey have a head?"

"He is Ms. Honey."

"Tickle, tickle!"

Busy-ness and Chaos

Here are two photos of a typical scene at the Boyette household. Complete chaos. On the left side, you see Wesley the dog with his moose, trying to entice Paul to play with him. In the center, you see Claire with Christmas stockings on her feet, first talking on the phone, next trying to steal the phone from Sarah. Sarah is on her back, bare feet in the air. All around the frame you see clutter of toys and Christmas.

The holidays were so busy for us. I was happy the day after Christmas because I thought things would calm down. They didn't.

I know everyone is busy, but I hate it. I have this image in my mind of my children, and me leaning over them, arms around them, shielding them from the world and its busy-ness. As a former teacher, I know kids thrive on consistency and routine, and I haven't been able to give either to my kids for about a month. I've been trying to keep our schedule free so we can be at home and enjoy our family and Adam's time off, but we just haven't been able to.

Adam lost one of his great aunts this past weekend. She was very old and had been in the nursing home for a long time. She lived in Louisiana. We got the call on Sunday night, and while I am sorry that she died, neither Adam or I had ever met her, so we didn't grieve. Apparently his dad knew her a long time ago.

Every day for a month we had had something to do, so I had looked forward to this week for rest and relaxation, and actually cleaning the house. If you've ever seen my house, you know that is not my top priority, but it should get done sometime. I wanted to spend time playing with the kids' new toys and taking them to the park. I wanted Adam to go to the library with us and experience story time.

Adam's dad doesn't drive, and Adam felt that we needed to take him to the funeral. Adam also felt we needed to go with him. So we took our kids, exhausted from the holidays, to Louisiana. Five hours to get there on Monday, five hours back on Tuesday. Adam did all the driving, but I hated that we had to take up two entire days to go to a funeral for a woman that we've never met. I almost feel like it's disrespectful to go to a funeral for someone you haven't met and haven't even heard of.

Adam's dad wanted to go, though, so we took him. He was very appreciative, but I just wanted to stay home.

Wednesday the kids were starting to get sick. Coughing a little bit, runny noses. Again, I wanted to keep them home, but we also wanted to go to the two New Year's parties we had RSVPed to. So we took both kids out again.

Thursday I wanted to stay home again, but Adam had already promised my grandfather he would come and help him fix his lawnmower. He insisted we come with him. So we took both kids out again.

Friday I took a breath this morning and looked forward to a day at home. Finally. Then I realized both kids had fevers, Paul had 101.3, and I had to take them to the doctor. Our doctor's office was closed today, so we had to go to the Urgent Care Clinic on the other side of town. It took all day.

I don't know what to do. I am trying my best to keep them home and keep them well, but it's not working. Both kids are very sick with respiratory infections. I guess that will keep us at home.

Claire on a trampoline

Christmas

It's almost 11, and Claire is still asleep. We've had a hectic Christmas and I am letting her sleep as long as she wants and needs. Paul has been up for a while, but played with his new screwdriver and feel back asleep.

This was my first Christmas as a mother where Claire actually paid attention to what was going on. Last year she was 18 months and still a baby, not much aware of her surroundings. In the last year she has developed an incredible memory and keen observation skills. I wanted to start her off right, to teach her the true meaning of Christmas, and to not pollute her with consumerism.

As I thought about it this season, I realized that to me, the true meaning of Christmas isn't Jesus' birth. That is the focal point, or supposed to be, but to me, the true meaning is something different. To me, Christmas is about love. It's about expressing love and gratitude to all those that God has placed in your life. It's about giving, and not material things, but gifts of love and service.

I gave a lot of gifts of love and service this year. I baked at least 15 (I lost count) dozen cookies for the UMW cookie sale. I gave gifts daily to two elderly people through our church's 12 days of Christmas program. I baked cookies for church receptions, for neighbors, and for friends. I had people over for dinner, I shopped for an angel and for two elderly people that aren't able to shop.

I say all this not to get a pat on the back or a gold star on my celestial chart. I did it because I loved doing it. I think it's important for Claire to see me giving and serving, so she develops those skills herself. It wasn't always with a cheerful heart, I confess. A few days I was so stressed out I cried and wanted to give up. But then I would have a conversation with someone, like my old neighbor Jo, and it would put me back on track. I confessed to our friend John that I was overwhelmed delivering the gifts to shut-ins and he told me about his grandmother at our church and the delight and anticipation she has every Christmas as part of this 12 Days program. I confessed to Jo that I was overwhelmed shopping for everyone and she thanked me profusely and confessed her frustration at being blind and unable to drive or shop. I confessed to Adam my frustration with all the poo (literal) that I get my hands in every day and when I fell asleep in the recliner, he went behind me and cleaned house, washed dishes, and bathed Claire.

I find God funny and ironic. I think he has a good time teaching me lessons. I often laugh to myself at something I learned. Every time I get overwhelmed, he sends someone to save me. Every time I judge someone in my mind, he shows me the same trait in myself.

This holiday season I'm so thankful for everything I received, spiritual and material.

La Posada

Last week our whole family had the opportunity to represent the Holy family at our church's live nativity, La Posada. They selected us because I called the church in early October and volunteered. Several families have had baby boys since then, and would have been much more appropriate candidates, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I really wanted to do it.

I thought Claire would have to be wrangled down and kept away from the manger, but the lady that was in charge let her be an angel.

We had so much fun. I rode a donkey down Clover Lane in Ft. Worth. We had police escorts! Usually you only get a police escort after you die and the coffin is travelling down the road. I got a police escort for riding a donkey! Of course, the police were also there to protect the procession following us, but still, it was pretty funny.

My first attempt at mounting the donkey ended in disaster. He moved.

We had better luck the next time.

I tried hard to be reverent and serene, but those are two adjectives that don't fit me quite well. I was very honored that irreverent and funny as my family is, we were allowed to represent the Holy Family. I was Mary, mother of Jesus! Adam was Joseph! Paul was the Baby Jesus! And Claire was an angel! I still am amazed that we got away with it.

Sheep and camels came to bow down at the manger. Claire really wanted to go pet the sheep and shouted "Baa! Baa!" at them. (Coincidentally, she also shouted that when she noticed a stained glass window at church yesterday. During worship service.)

In this picture, Claire is about to go run to pet the sheep, but as I am holding the Baby Jesus, I am also telling his big sister to stay right there. Adam is attempting to look reverent. He did a bettter job than me on that.

After the drama was over, people came to greet the "newborn" 20 lb. Baby Jesus.

We had a lot of fun and laughs. Paul and I both passed out blessings to people. As much fun as we had, though, I also had moments of clarity. It was difficult for me to ride a donkey, but I can't imagine doing it when I was 9 months pregnant! It's tough to breathe when you're that pregnant, much less ride a donkey!

And as happy and proud as we are of our little "Baby Jesus," I am speechless when I think about the real Jesus and what an honor it must have been to be his mother. A few days later I was working on my Bible study and one sentence stood out to me. "He was born to die." We talk often about God being Jesus' father and he gave his "only begotten Son," but what about his mother? I can't imagine raising a child like that. It must have been excruciating! You know that your Son has the hope for the entire world on his shoulders, so you're proud of that, but he's your Son! You don't want him to die! I don't know how soon Mary knew that Jesus would have to give his life, but my children are like body parts to me. I can't imagine watching one of them die.

Playing this role has made me think this holiday season. I always try to focus on the true meaning of Christmas, but you understand the meaning a lot better when you act it out.

Driving

Yesterday I saw a lady with a cell phone in one hand, a cigarette in another. She was also driving. Today I saw a daycare bus driver texting while driving. What's wrong with just driving? Of course I am sitting at a red light blogging.

Claire-talk

Claire has been a riot lately. Here's a couple gems:

"I'm scared of the trash ma'am." (trash man)

"I not like that song. ABCDEFG Please!"

"Turn it ladder! (louder)"

To immigrant workman "Look at those big guys!"

At my grandfather's house, wanting to pick up his pecans, "I want to do nuts!"

We have a children's CD that we keep in my car changer. It has the ABCs, Three Blind Mice and other kids favorites. Every time the CD starts over, Claire giggles at the same spot. The other day when the music started, she didn't giggle, and that was the first time I realized that's not part of the CD. The ABCs just aren't as good without a giggle at the beginning.

Paul at Flying Fish