Oh Ryder...

So, the running joke has always been (and probably always will be) that when you do something absolutely horrible to your child (on accident! Not abuse...), you should receive the "parent of the year award". In the 16 months that Ryder has been on this earth, I should have over 200 awards, at least. I'll name a few here...

• At 5 days old, he was poked, prodded, catheterized, and eventually wound up with an IV coming out his forehead (after I FOUGHT them not toshave his head! I won.) because I had a raging Group A Strep infection (not Group B, which is pretty common at birth). We both received HIGH doses of antibiotics for 4 days in the hospital and I continued IV antibiotics for an additional 10 days at home. Poor Ryder.

• He started crawling around 4-5 months. I had taken him upstairs with me to get something in my room. He wasn't THAT fast of a crawler yet so I didn't even THINK to shut my door. About 5 seconds later, I heard it. The tumbling and banging. I remember thinking "Oh God, PLEASE let that be a toy that Payton just threw down!". About 2 seconds after the tumbling stopped, I held my breath, hoping to not hear screaming. I heard it. He had fallen down the stairs!!!!!

• At 7 months old (March 2010), I found out that I was starving him. Payton was a small baby (14 pounds at 1 year old), so it was no surprise that Ryder was small. At 7 months, he weighed 14 pounds so he was ahead of Payton (YAY!). I wasn't concerned and neither was the pediatrician. I had taken him at 6 months for his well baby check up and he was just over 15 pounds. I started cereal with him as well during that month to attempt to get him to sleep thru the night. At 7 months, we had a WIC appointment and they weighed him. He was just BARELY 14 pounds. I panicked but said nothing to WIC because they would have probably called CPS on me or something... I called the pediatricians office, explained what happened, and they had me come do a weight check. Sure enough, he'd lost weight. So, the dr had me nurse as long as Ryder wanted and then weighedhim again. He gained 3-5oz.... That's NOT enough for a 7 month old! So, the pediatrician said I had to supplement with formula. That would have been perfect if I had a baby that would actually TAKE a bottle.... So, I was forced to stop nursing, cold turkey. :( I cried for a few days. The guilt I felt was overwhelming. He was STARVING and it was my fault! The next 3 days were filled with days and nights of screaming while I forced a bottle in his mouth, squeezing it so the formula would dribble down his throat. I felt terrible. What mother starves her child!? What mother is so disconnected that she doesn't even know she's not making enough milk for him!? Me. :( Needless to say, he drinks just fine from a bottle now (still...) and is healthy and fat. :)

• About 6 weeks later, on Mother's Day, we were walking around Target and I was holding him. He wasn't wanting to be in his carseat so that was the logical option, until, I DROPPED HIM. Seriously? At least it was on carpet but still. Poor Ryder!

• Shortly following the Target incident, he had another tumble down our 17 million stairs. Way to go MOM!

• I'm not going to even COUNT the multiple head wounds he's had... It's just not right.

• Fast forward to 2 nights ago... We were headed to a birthday party for one of Payton's buddies, Keaton. The daycare kids were late leaving (of course!) so we were in a hurry. I slipped on socks and shoes on Ryder and off we went. About 45 minutes after we'd been at the party, Ryder was unnaturally fussy and starting to scream. He's had a never-ending cold for the last 3 weeks with a NASTY cough, so I figured he just wasn't feeling well. We came home. He screamed the entire way home. This is the kid that doesn't ever really cry, except for when he's hungry or tired. He's so even-keeled. There was definitely something wrong and it was a hurt cry--not a hungry or tired cry. So, I got him home and laid him down to change his diaper, thinking it was that. He was grabbing at his shoe. As I took his shoe off, I noticed that his toe was curled UNDER his foot! The sock had caught it and he wasn't strong enough to straighten it out. In my hurriedness to get out the door, I didn't pay any attention to that. I mean, really, how often does that happen?! It's a first for me! So, I got his sock off and his screams were getting worse. My initial thought was that it was broken because he SCREAMED when I touched it. I didn't bend it, I just touched it. After a minute or so, he was calming down and I was able to move it. Tom was holding him and his eyes rolled back in his head. He was done. All the crying plus 2 hours late to bedtime made for a super sleepy baby. So, I got his jammies on and then just held him while tears ran down my face. I felt (and still feel) terrible! Who does that?! Just me.

• The never ending cold... About 3 weeks ago, Payton had a cough/runny nose and it cleared up within a few days. As his was clearings, Ryder's started. Of course. They share everything! So, I just knew I needed to buckle down and accept that I'd be snotted on for 3 days and then it would be over. After a week and a half, accompanied by LOTS of crankiness and disgusting other things, I took him to the pediatrician. I was concerned that his ears were infected because he was SO cranky and the snot was just not letting up. The dr said he was fine, wrote me a rx but told me he wasn't sure if it was viral or bacterial so it might not even help. I HATE antibiotics, so I waited a few days to make sure he wasn't going to get worse, and then threw the rx away. I didn't even fill it. The NIGHT after I threw the rx away, Ryder woke up in the middle of the night (1-ish?) crying. He's been sleeping thru the night for a long time now so I was NOT going to get up and give him a bottle. I had done that the night before because he had been with a babysitter and I wasn't sure what he had for dinner, how much he'd eaten, or how much bottle he'd drank before bed. He was hungry. So, I wasn't wanting to start a habit... He eventually stopped crying and we all went back to sleep. The following morning, I went in to get him and found him and his sheets COVERED in dried puke. Yep. He had been coughing so hard that he'd puked and just wanted me. :( I cried, again. Poor Ryder. The coughing got worse. So, I took him back into the dr yesterday and he wrote me another rx for the same medicine. This time, I filled it. His hacking/puking has to stop! It's not in his lungs but it's hanging out in his throat, which makes the cough sound terrible and also is what's making him gag and puke.

I really hope he makes it to his 2nd birthday!

Sewing is my love language.

Is that even possible??! Tom has been working 15-18 hour days between his regular job and a side job, so I've had more "me" time on my hands. As much as I love sitting down and relaxing while watching one of the MANY shows I have recorded on my DVR, I do feel like it's a "waste" of time. My body is resting, which is good, but if I'm not doing something productive, I feel like I accomplished nothing. Maybe that has to do with my dad ALWAYS telling us to "go do something" and not just sit around and/or watch tv? If it was, I now appreciate that statement (along with PPR--Perseverance Produces Reward) more than I ever have.

So, for the last week, I've been a busy little bee. Between keeping up on my Bumble Cover orders, working on new business ideas (more research right now than actual crafting...), and creating things that fill my happy tank, I feel SO accomplished! It's true, I dream about sewing. I love to create things. If sewing WERE a love language, it would top my list and be so far in the lead that there would be no competition. If someone was to give me a gift card (and free babysitting) to go spend at the fabric store, well, I'd probably cry with excitement. ;) Here's a few things I've been working on:

I also made another FANTASTIC purse last night but I don't have a picture of it yet. And, a few of these are NOT my inventions but from online. I'll post links when I don't have 2 children screaming for my attention. ;)

MIA...

I've been MIA for awhile... Oops! There's plenty of changes in the Stone household going on right now. That, added with the kids, daycare, the holidays, the gym (a MUST 3 times a week!!), a liver cleanse (thanks mom!), sewing new projects, Tom's side jobs (YAY!), and somehow finding some time alone for myself, have made it nearly impossible to sit and write! Payton is still saying funny little things, none of which I can remember right now... :( Ryder is starting to talk and says "car", "hi", "mama", "dada", and he TRIES to say "kids" but it comes out more like "ki". It's cute. :) He's walking all over the place and ALWAYS walks with his belly sticking out and his left arm in the air. Not sure why, but it reminds us to laugh as we watch him! I'll try and video it to post on here soon! He's sure a funny (and happy!) little guy!

I haven't even taken any real pictures recently! That's terrible. The main reason is because my old camera ONLY takes blurry pictures and it's time for a new, GOOD one. However, money doesn't grow on tree's (yet)! So, we're attempting to capture pictures in our memories of this time with the kids. It goes too fast and we hate not being able to capture it on film, but there's only so much we can do! Anyone who wants to donate is welcome too... ;) Our oldest (who remains anonymous on this blog...) is pulling us thru the ringer at the moment too. He waved good-bye to the 10's on his last birthday and said hello to an attitude! So, we're working on that. ;)

I hope to be back on here sooner rather than later... :)

**For those of you who care to skip this, feel free. Many family members reading already know the story and may or may not want to revisit it. :)

This is something I've wanted to write for awhile. Not for anyone else to read necessarily, but for me to have. Each year that passes I feel like I just forget a little bit more. It's time to get it written before it's gone!

A little background... My dad had accepted a job here in Denver somewhere between the end of 1991 and beginning of 1992. We (they) uprooted us and made the best decision EVER to move us here. I can say that now, knowing where we've been, what has gone on, and what my future holds. Then, however, was a different story. We all had a rough time with it (in our own little ways) and ALL wanted to move back to California (Redding), which got progressively worse the older we got. My dad knew though, that this is where God had us be and my amazing mom stood by his side, despite not knowing anyone and leaving all she knew behind. We got plugged into a church and met some great friends who remain friends to this day. The Palmerie's were truly a God-send in a time of need and we enjoy seeing them when my parents are here visiting. :)

Fast forward to Memorial Day weekend 1993. I was 10. We were in Buena Vista, CO camping with the Palmerie's. They have 2 kids, 1 boy and 1 girl, who are around our ages so we all had plenty to do! Fishing, hiking, creek exploring, etc... It was SO fun! I still have fond memories of that trip! The evening we got back from camping, we had all showered and got cleaned up and the laundry was quickly getting washed, folded, and put away. I specifically remember where I was sitting on the couch and folded my arms over my bent knees (so basically my knees were at my chest and my arms were wrapped around them) and remember feeling that my right arm was HARD. I still remember that feeling to this day--it felt as hard as my elbow did/does but it was in the middle of my upper arm. So, I told my mom to feel it. She did and motioned to my dad to come into the other room. After hearing her tell the story (many times), I know that she had called him into the other room to say that she knew I had a bone tumor. My dad essentially said it was "hog-wash" and that we needed to get it checked out before jumping to major conclusions--especially one like that. So, that NIGHT we headed over to our family dr's house and he looked at it. He said it "looked" like muscular distrophy and wanted to see us the next day in the office. So, bright and early we were up and being seen in the office by him as well as another doc who knew a little more about MD. That dr said is definitely wasn't MD, but wasn't sure exactly what it was because there was more than one thing it "could" be. So, we were referred to another doc to look at it. He didn't know either... So, over the course of a few days, we ended up seeing SIX different doctors. The 6th one took (more) x-rays and I remember the small room we were waiting in for him to come tell us his opinion. It seemed like a long time that we waited, but I was only 10 so it could have been shorter than it actually felt. The dr came in, called my mom into a different, smaller room, and said "Your daughter has a bone tumor and is probably going to die" and walked out. My mom was faced with having to go back in to the room the 3 of us kids were in, manage to keep her composure, and get us all out of the dr's office. My dad wasn't there because he was still new at his job and couldn't just "get the time off". This dr had given us a referral to Dr. Hahn, an orthopedic surgeon, for a biopsy. On 1 side of the paper was his name as well as directions to his office (remember, this is before cell phones and GPS!) and on the backside it said: Malignant bone tumor. I had picked up the paper and flipped it over as we were driving to Dr. Hahn's office. I remember reading "bone tumor" and even what those words looked like on that tan colored paper. Again, this is from my mom's re-telling of the story because I don't remember saying this but, apparently I read the paper and as my eyes welled up with tears, said "mommy, am I going to die?". My mom, with tears welling up in her eyes, said "No honey. They're not sure what's going on but it's a possibility you have a bone tumor so they just want to check and make sure". Being a mom now, I would have just LOST it. How she kept her composure (in front of me) is beyond me.

So, Dr. Hahn scheduled a biopsy and everything went fine with the surgery. I went home a few days later and we all anxiously waited for the news: benign or malignant. I remember staying home with my Auntie Wendi while both my mom and dad went to a "meeting". Little did I know... This meeting was with a pediatric oncologist. Of course I didn't know what those words meant either! ha! I knew they were going to talk about me and what was wrong with me. They came home and I can still remember where I had walked to greet them and FINALLY get to ask what was wrong with me. This timeline was all within about 2 weeks or so from the time I felt the lump until now--pretty fast but incredibly slow without having any answers. I remember asking "what's wrong with me?" in a slightly excited tone, hoping they'd have some magical answer. They had an answer, but it wasn't magical... My mom looked at me as my dad cried and said, "you do have a tumor and it malignant." I have no clue what my initial reaction was. It really didn't register with me WHAT that actually meant. However, she started talking about surgeries, having a broviac (permanent IV that's now been replaced with a PICC line), chemo, etc... I remember crying. My whole life had changed and I didn't even know where to start. It was AWFUL.

At that meeting, my parents met Dr. Cullen, who would be my pediatric oncologist. Dr. Cullen explained that I had a rapidly growing stage 2-3 malignant bone tumor called Ewings Sarcoma. He also said that there was less than a 15% chance I'd survive this disease because, with the current treatment, there were no survivors within 5 years of diagnosis. The situation was grim and offered little hope. He then offered a suggestion that would later save my life: He had come up with a new protocol of treatment with chemotherapy (no radiation) and was hopeful it was going to work, but it was still VERY experimental. There was currently ONE other patient in this treatment, and she had only had 2-3 treatments as it was. His pose to my parents was: "I'd like to try this treatment on her and really feel we have nothing to loose. She's going to die if we treat it the old way and she has a CHANCE at life if we try this." My parents, with their tear-stained faces and swollen eyes, agreed. Chemo was to start immediately.

During this time, they also met with my orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Wilkins, to decide 1), if surgery was necessary and 2), when it was safe to remove the tumor. Dr. Wilkins was also a lifesaver. He is known all around the globe as one of the top orthopedic surgeons, ever. He was a colleague of Dr. Hahn's (the original Dr. that did the biopsy), which is the ONLY way we would have been able to ever see him. The original MRI showed that the tumor had started inside the bone and had completely encompassed my right humorous and the main nerve that ran right along side it. An immediate surgery was out of the question because the tumor was too large and the cells could EASILY spread to my lungs, which would be "the end". Dr. Wilkins, along with Dr. Cullen, decided 6 months of chemo would hopefully be enough to shrink the tumor and then safely remove it.

I have to say that, even then, the faith my parents had in God far surpassed anything I could imagine. They knew that He was the only one who could save me. As much trust as they had in the doctors, they relied on the only promise they had: God gives us a time to live and a time to die. Their faith brought them thru this. As much as they didn't want to let go, they came to realize that they weren't in control in the first place. I'm sure there were many times of questioning God: "Why? Who? How? Huh?" As a parent, I hope to NEVER have to be in their shoes. At some point thru this, I remember hearing my mom say: "You know, we always think things like this will only happen to 'someone else'. We are that 'someone else'." It wasn't in a "ho-hum poor me" way though. It was a reality check. In life, this is so true. "Oh, that won't happen to me. Only to someone else". Some person WILL be that "someone else". However, on that same token, we're all "someone else's". I believe God allows different things to happen to different people. I do NOT think God "makes" things happen. He ALLOWS them to happen, knowing that He's filled us and one's around us with the faith to perservere thru them. Only once we're thru them do we see, and are able to share, the testimony of the miracle God did for us. That testimony builds faith in us and others around us. Faith can move mountains. Only now do I realize what God has done for me and even now, 18 years later, I cannot say I FULLY realize the incredible work He's done. This year-long journey has shaped me to be who I am today, both positive and negative. I'm not done with it yet. Yes, in the physical I am, but emotionally I'm not.

So, within a few days, I was admitted to the hospital to have them put in my Broviac (remember: permanent IV) and start my 1st round of chemo. The first 3 treatments were back to back and then spread out to once a month after that. The surgery for my Broviac was miserable. It's essentially a plastic tube that fed into a main artery in my heart so there was an incision made in the crease of my neck to feed it down. The other end came out of the middle of my chest at the nipple line. I remember the pain. The dressing had to be changed every 2 days, unless it got wet. Then it had to be changed immediately. Oh the tears I cried in that hospital room after that surgery. It hurt SO bad! The 1st round of chemo was started the following day and lasted for 3 days. I think there was 1-2 drugs each day. I had 5 IV drugs that I had to take and 1 drug that I took at home thru my Broviac nightly. The 1st day of drugs wasn't too bad. I remember just feeling tired. It made my eyes feel funny--sorta like when you take an allergy pill or cold medicine that makes you drowsy. I couldn't really focus on anything physically and was too tired emotionally to care. Just 3 weeks ago, I had been camping with some of our only friends in our new "life" here and was a happy, healthy (or so we thought...), 10 year old. My world had been turned upside down. This is where our friends, the Palmerie's, played such an important role. Every time I was in the hospital (which was too numerous to count...), they watched (and homeschooled) my younger siblings, Ashely and Garrett, who's lives also had been abruptly turned upside down. I stayed in the hospital for just under a week and began a small recovery before my 2nd treatment would start, about 3 days later. I was weak, tired, and really just didn't understand the severity of what was going on. The remaining 11 treatments were to be done in the dr's office, which was a much more comfortable setting than the hospital!

After the 3rd treatment is when my hair really started falling out. I had accepted that it would and was okay with it. I didn't love it, but it's one of the side-effects and if loosing my hair for a year meant I could live, then so be it! I remember sitting on the couch and my mom brushing my hair. This wasn't an every day occurrence but once they knew it had started falling out, they brushed it so that I wouldn't see exactly how much was actually coming out. The hair brush would be FULL of hair after just a few brushes. It's almost surreal how it just "falls out" like that. It didn't hurt but just came out. I remember running my fingers thru my hair and getting a handful of it. It didn't bother me. I chose to laugh about it, knowing it was "just one of those things". I could have let it affect me but what good would that do? None. It was going to happen no matter what so I made the best of it. Plus, God invented hats for a reason. ;) I never wore a wig because I didn't want to hide the fact that I was bald. And really, in all reality, who do you know that has a full head of hair but no eye brows, eye lashes, arm hair, leg hair, etc... ? I don't know anyone! Plus, Sinead O'Connor made bald beautiful!

(This was actually taken in the isle of Walmart! about 8 months in to treatment)

Confirmations, Answers, and Provision

I blog tonight out of complete awe in what's happened in the last 24 hours. Most details will be spared to "protect the innocent" until everything is settled. Sorry to you nosey readers! ;)

It's funny how when you question the path your on and the vision you have, God comes along side you and confirms your directions. About 2 weeks ago (or so), my wonderful friend at the Mama Always Said kiosk in Park Meadows Mall said that she wasn't sure she was able to continue selling my Bumble Cover's because they weren't selling. **I completely understand from the business point of view that if she has things on her kiosk that are not making her money, she really can't afford them. I totally get it and I'd do the EXACT same thing.** I was/am heartbroken. She's had a few months recently that NONE have sold. Not one. I get so discouraged when that happens. I start to wonder if I really DO have a good product that's well made. I start to wonder if I'm just fighting an uphill battle in an already too flooded market. There are nursing covers GALORE out there. I have to admit that my persistence with this is only because my nursing covers are different. It's MORE than "just" a nursing cover--much more. Is there a market for it? Is it worth the hassle? These thoughts have been running thru my head for the last few weeks as I figure out what I should do with it all. It's been 3 years and feels like it's gone almost nowhere, even though I've blessed more people than I probably know. So, thru a crazy series of events, there's an amazingly generous few people who have come behind me and backed me with this business--just in time. I LOVE what I do and was really struggling with the thought of having to "let go". These unnamed people are making a way for me to proceed to the next step towards my ultimate goal of mass producing (whether on American soil or overseas...) and being able to pitch to a room full of "buyers" for large corporations such as Nordstroms, Target, Macy's, etc... and successfully produce my nursing covers to supply the demand of these stores. This has all started with a simple conversation and ended in a way I never could have DREAMED of! AND, in the midst of it all, I get to bless 75 women with Bumble Covers by the end of this year. That's a daunting task, but one I'll gladly take. These women may not have the financial means to purchase one and with the generosity I've been given, they'll now be able to have one. I've always said that EVERY WOMAN should be able to nurse comfortably in public and if one can't afford it, I do everything I can to try and help. Most times I can't financially do anything and it tears. me. apart. Now, these 75 women are going to be blessed this Christmas season. My prayer is that they are faithful with what they've been given and pay it forward when their time comes. This is my ultimate dream and I get to live it. And, you better believe I'm gonna pray over each cover as I sew it! :)

All of this to say, God knows the desires of you heart. He know what you need and when you need it. The second you start to question what direction you're supposed to take, He'll confirm it for you. He'll be the one to tell you what to do next. With Bumble Cover, it's happened time and time again. EVERY TIME I start to question whether this is right for our family, I ALWAYS get a confirmation that I'm doing the right thing. Always.

You know who you are and all I can say is, thank you. This means more to me than you'll ever know.

A few funnies...

I've been kinda quiet because... well, I just have. :)

Yesterday morning, Payton decided he only wanted one bite of his cereal. So, he was warned that he'd have to wait until snack time (3 hours later...) and that his "belly would be angry" (growl) at him if he didn't eat. He accepted that and really was a trooper until snack time. Snack time and lunch time were great. Then, afternoon snack was due to arrive... He had skipped his nap and at about 2p started asking for snack. Snacktime isn't until 3p and for him, we HAVE to keep that schedule or he'd eat 24/7. Here's the convo:

P: mooooommmmmmyyyyyyy...... I want snnnnaaaaackkkkk.....<

M: Sorry buddy! It's not snacktime yet! When the timer goes off, it'll be snack time!

P: {frowns} Mommy, I'm ANGRY at my belly. My belly wants snack.

M: You're ANGRY at your belly? Is your belly growling and angry at you?

P: YES. I'm angry at my belly because my belly wants a snack.

He just didn't get it! It was SO cute!

Honour has been OBSESSED with having a "6-pack" of ab muscles. He's still a scrony little stick and until puberty hits, he's gonna look like his same skinny little self! So, last night as we did dishes together, he was talking (again) about how bad he wanted them and what he could do to get them. Here's the convo:

H: Mom, what can I do to get a 6-pack? Is it hard?

M: Well buddy, until you hit puberty, you're not going to have much of them. Your muscles aren't ready to be built like that. They will be someday and yes, it DOES take hard work but you can do it!

H: Can I at least get a 2-pack?

M: {laughing} There's no such thing! It's a 6-pack or nothing! (I didn't dare tell him you can have MORE than a 6-pack--for now)

Sometimes 10 year olds DO still say innocently funny things! ;)

And the Mommy of the Year Award Goes to...

So, for anyone that's in our lives on a consistent basis, you know that poor little Ryder has had a ROUGH go... From being admitted to the hospital at 5 days old (which included NUMEROUS times of torture for him and me, both physically and emotionally), to being "starved" to death while I was nursing. And of course, we can't forget the time I dropped him in Target ON MOTHER'S DAY. Oh, and there was the 2 complete falls down our long steep stairs... Yep, I'm a great mom folks! ;) Anyone who would like to contribute to his counseling fund, just contact me.

So, this morning, Tom got up at his usual 5a to get ready for work. As he walked down the stairs, he turned on a light and Ryder woke up. Not sure if he was already awake or if he heard Tom tumble over the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs. Either way, he was awake. I have a rule: I NEVER get Ryder out of bed before 6a, even if he's crying. I do not want him thinking "the earlier the better!" and I refuse to leave my warm covers before 6a, and even that's pushing it! So, back to this morning... Ryder was MAD that no one had come to get him yet. I simply allowed him to scream. The bigger boys sleep thru anything so I wasn't worried about having 2 more bed-bugs join me in my nice, warm bed (can you tell I LOVE to sleep?). Tom was still downstairs eating and making his lunch for work. I was coherent enough to know that Ryder was (still) screaming and could hear Tom's spoon hit the side of his cereal bowl, but my eyes were not open. All of a sudden, I heard a loud "THUD", followed be even louder screaming. At first, I thought Tom had gone out to the garage and was moving something around and Ryder was even more mad because now he KNEW someone was downstairs completely ignoring his every attempt to make it known that he was indeed awake and ready for his day. However, the hall light turned on and I heard what sounded like elephants running up the stairs. It was Tom and he was racing to Ryder's room. At this point, I'm still laying in bed. I knew Tom was going to his room and I thought I'd see how it played out. About 5 seconds later (and more screaming): "HONEY! Ryder just fell out of his crib!!!". In my fight to keep my eyes open, I asked, "did you put him back?" and he said "Yeah, I didn't know what else to do!!!". Umm... what? why? It was obvious at that point that our day was beginning. So, Ryder screamed louder. I went and got him and he was sobbing. I felt terrible for not just getting him when he woke up. It certainly wasn't my fault that he fell out of his crib, but still... So, he had a bottle in bed with me and then I finally dragged myself out of bed to get a shower at 5:50a, and was greeted by a smiley 13 month old... I never actually went back to sleep--I just laid there. He did too actually, which was nice. I had to be ready for daycare kids to get here by 6:10a and at that moment, was totally regretting ever taking them on. But, I made the commitment so I follow thru. Just to add to this story... The said daycare kids didn't get here until 7:15. Awesome.

Oh Payton....

We were driving in the car this weekend to a friends' bbq (one of 3 we went to over Labor Day weekend) and only had Payton and Ryder. Honour had gone camping with a friend (holler!). Although we missed him, it was SO quiet in our house! Crazy how much noise an almost 11 year old can add! Anyways, so, Payton has a love-hate relationship with Ryder. And, when they play, it's ALWAYS on Payton's terms. If he's not in the "mood", he's mad. If he's in the mood, however, the giggles I hear from the backseat of the car are priceless! This one particular trip, Payton wasn't in the mood... Here's what I heard:

R: {SCREEECHHHHHH!!!!!!} *This screech is more like a high-pitched squeal*

P: RYDER, NO!

R: {kicks his legs and waves his arms while wildly laughing}

P: RRRRRYYYYYDDDDEEERRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!

R: {SCREEEECHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!}

P: {now ready to start crying} Ryder. NO.

R: {laughing again}

...3 seconds later...

R: {SCREEECCCCCHHHHHH!!!!!!}

P: {burst into tears} moooommmmmmm!!!! Ryder {sob} hurt {sob} my {sob} fffeeeeelllinnnggsss.....

Really? Where did he get that? I couldn't help but laugh.

Ryder's 1st Birthday!

Ryder's 1st birthday pics! :) We had a bbq with lots of great friends and family. Ryder didn't really know the difference, but it was so fun to just hang out! Here's some pics!

"auntie 'cole" and Payton


Funny little baby... So happy to be crawling in the grass!


Opening presents! He didn't really know what was going on... ;)






That darn pacifier... It's become an extension to his body!




Cake time!








Not too sure about it... It took him a full minute before he'd taste it. ha!







aaaaaannnnnddddd..... Done. I think that was enough sugar for one day!

One Year Ago...

One year ago yesterday, I became a mommy again. Although he was one of the biggest surprises of our lives, our little Ry-guy is the perfect addition to our family. We couldn't imagine our life without him. One year ago, he was a tiny little "alien" with 10 little fingers and 10 little toes. He relied on me 100% for everything. Now, he still has those 10 little fingers and 10 little toes, but his independence has surely grown. He's not walking on his own yet, but walks around anything he can hold on to! He's a FAST crawler and loves to laugh. One year ago, he didn't even know he had fingers to grab or toes to eat. He didn't know what the feeling of "I'm hungry" or "I need a diaper change" meant. All he knew was that he needed me and trusted I could meet those needs. I pray that, after these last 365 days, I've done nothing but meet his needs and encourage him in his little ways to grow big, be confident, enjoy life, and keep exploring the newness of everything around him. We love you Ryder!

Last picture pregnant! This was taken 3 days before he was born...



Just a few weeks old and SO tiny!



About 2 weeks ago...



ON his 1st birthday... He's changed SO much!

Yep, it's Confirmed.

No, I'm not pregnant. If you would have asked me that last week, I would have told you I wasn't sure but alas, I'm not. :0) Anyways...

Today I confirmed that I was NEVER made to be a full time mother to 6 children under the age of 5. Don't get me wrong, I adore my own children and would happily add more a few years down the road, but taking 6 children out in the heat to drop off one and kindergarden and then drag the other 5 around our small town (which seems very large while you're driving with 5 children under the age of 4) to run errands that should have been done last week, well, it's just not fun. It's miserable actually. At one point, Ryder was screaming (mad), Payton was crying for Ryder to "be quiiiiiieeeeeettttttttt.....", the 17 month old was screaming (for fun... you know, those short, HIGH pitched squeels), and the 4 and 4.5 year old were fighting about who's air to breathe. I kinda wanted to blare the music, pull my hair out, cry, scream, and laugh all. at. the. same. time. I now am also reminded why I never go anywhere during the week with all the kids. Not sure how I forgot in the first place.

That's all.

"All Done" and "More"

I thought I needed to follow that post with something a little lighter, so here you go! We taught Payton sign language as a baby for "all done" and "more". He did NOT catch on until AFTER he could say both. It must have something to do with his gigantic head... ;) Ryder, on the other hand, just caught on! He'll be 1 on Monday but his momma didn't birth a dummy I guess! Last night he was devouring chicken and rice and after the first helping was gone, I heard "mo! mo! mo!" accompanied by the sign for it! I said "do you want more?" and he just smiled like "She got it!!! she understands!" He started kicking his legs and feet as I got him more. After that 2nd helping, he did it again. I was so proud! Then, at his 3rd helping, he didn't finish it and I heard "duh! duh!" followed by the sign for "all done". The sign for "all done" is somewhat difficult for a child (think: "jazz-hands" but not) so we simplified it with a simple "wave" with his fingers. He's doing great! I'll post pics here soon!

Sombering Realization

I've been noticing, more frequently than not, that I do NOT know how to have fun. All I know is to be "responsible" in every situation. I don't know how to be a "kid" and just enjoy the situations life brings. Tom and I had been talking about a different, somewhat unrelated issue a few nights ago and I burst into tears because what we had been talking about made me realize what was REALLY going on with me. The initial topic of conversation had NOTHING to do with me! Funny how God does that... Over the last few months, I've been really trying to figure out WHY I don't like to go do things that are different, unknown, or possibly even dangerous (certainly not life threatening--just "risky") and it took that conversation to bring it to the surface.

Thru my emotions that night, I realized it's because I was robbed. I was robbed of a childhood from the age of 10 on thru adulthood. I had to grow up way too fast and deal with a disease that NO ONE should ever have to deal with, especially a child. I had to face fears and struggles that no child should EVER have to look straight in the eye. I had to be around adults. Be responsible. Be brave. Be strong. I didn't get to do careless adventurous things like skiing with my friends. Gosh, I barely got to go sledding! I can't golf. I can't ski. I can't snowboard. I can't play baseball. I can't play basketball, tennis, or football. I can't, I can't, I can't... My physical limitation keeps me from them. I've accepted this and have positioned myself around this life. However, these are the things that I imagine are full of fun, adventure, and just pure "play" time. Childish playtime fun that I miss(ed) out on because of the past. Certainly NONE of those things are childish, but you can ACT like a child doing them and NO ONE cares. It's all about having fun. Did I go thru "normal" things tweens and teens go thru? Of course. The awkward "middle school years" curse, the "I have a crush" period, learning how to drive (and how TERRIBLE I was at it!), learning and instrument, figuring out where I fit in the social ladder... The list goes on! However, there were so many things I wasn't "allowed" to do because of my arm that I lost out on. Those fun, "dangerous", living-life-on-the-edge things that every child should have the opportunity to experience. I grew up knowing those were "dangerous" for me, even though for any regular human being, they're pretty much harmless. I wasn't allowed to be irresponsible and "risky". IF anything was ever to happen to my reconstructed arm, it would/could cost more money than I've made in my entire life up to this point, not to mention the pain and the fact that I have 3 children and a husband to take care of...

To sum it up: if there's a REMOTE possibility (literally, a .01%) of a risk of me getting hurt, I can't/shouldn't do it. That's what I've learned/believed in the last 18 years. As I continue searching this, seeking it out in order to take care of it and LET GO (literally), I'm learning that I've applied that deceptive motto to the most of my life, even in the little things. I'm learning that I make decisions out of fear. Fear of getting hurt, either physically or emotionally. I don't like to do many things because there's always a "risk" of getting hurt. This all sounds so ridiculous but it's so... me... right now. It's an awful place to live in. I've believed this lie long enough. I will conquer it.

So, for those of you around me (a few of you KNOW who you are...), I'm asking you to "push" me out of my comfort zone, taking into consideration that literally, I CAN'T swing a golf club or baseball bat, but CAN have so fun.

TO MY PARENTS: I want you both to know that you are NOT allowed to feel any guilt for this! It's ugly. It's weird. It's me--for now. You did the best you knew how to keep me and my arm safe. You followed what you felt God was speaking to you and for that, I'm eternally grateful. I can honestly say that, as a mother, I would do the same thing, knowing that in the long run it would be a better solution for my child. I love you both and am so thankful for you. :-)

Family Pictures

Here are some family pictures we took while ALL of us kids and grandkids were together earlier this summer. SO fun!



Grandpa and Grandma and the grandbabies--ALL boys!



Our cute little family :)



Everyone! And Lucy the dog... She's not very photogenic. ;)

Another Poop Post... Beware. ;)

No... this is NOT all we talk about. However, when you're potty training a 2 year old, it does become a topic of conversation at times. Have a listen (read):<
Preface: About a week ago, Payton ran inside and exclaimed in a LOUD voice: "I have go poop mommy!". So, like always, we run into the bathroom and he works it out. When I knew he was done, I said: "Good job buddy! Poop is SO happy in the toilet. NOT your undies or the back yard." He looked at me like I was a freak and went on with his day. I assumed he forgot all about it. So, here's today's conversation:

P: Mom! I have go poop! (he says the same thing every time--for reals)

M: Ok! Let's GO! {run into bathroom}

P: You help me on twaaaalet?

M: {help him on the toilet} Push it out buddy!

P: {grunts and then smiles} I did it!

M: YAY! Good job dude!

P: Mom, is my poop happy? Will you look at it to see?

I couldn't help but laugh. Seriously. HOW did he remember that!?

Payton-isms...

I just need to write more of these down... They're SO funny!

Payton has started to use his imagination thru play:

P: Mom, I'm Iron Man! (in a growling voice)

M: That's awesome! Can I be Iron Man too?

P: Okay. We both Iron Man.

M: What do we do first?

P: umm... fight the bad guys?

Here's another...

P: Mom, I go to King Soopers. You need somethin?

M: umm... Yes. I need milk, eggs, and crackers.

P: {looking confused} I don't have that!?

M: Well, go to the store and get it!

P: {walking into the kitchen} It's all gone. You don't get anything.

And, a sad one to finish it off...

M: Payton, did you go potty in your undies? {there's a big wet spot...}

P: no.

M: umm... let me feel. Ohhhhh.... You did.

P: {frowns}

M: Let's go to the bathroom. You know pee-pee belongs in the potty!

So, we headed into the bathroom, took off his wet clothing, and he sat on the potty. When he was done (he had nothing else to pee....), I stood him up and spanked him. *Let me preface his spanking with: He KNOWS to go in the bathroom and can go by himself. He just didn't want to because he was playing. He breaks his play daily to go to the bathroom so this was just a lazy accident... If I thought he had actually tried and just not made it, he would NOT have gotten a spanking. So, after the spanking, here's what he said:

P: {tears rolling down his face in a crying voice} You gave me a swaaaaaaaaaattttttt..... I go pee-pee in potty next time. Sorry mommy.

My heart broke. But, I think he realized that we mean business with the potty in the toilet and not his undies!

Thankfulness and A Dream

I've had THE hardest time in the last 2 years keeping my house clean. I simply HATE cleaning--especially bathrooms. I'm ashamed to admit that it's been a month (or more) between bathroom cleanings before. I know, gross. It was a constant struggle for me to clean my house, although I LOVE the way it feels when it's done. My kitchen always managed to stay "clean" but not CLEAN. In the last month, with lots of prayer, I've managed to keep my house clean! I decided that the selfish part of me just needed to die. It wasn't fair to my husband or kids (or me, really...). I prayed for a new vision of what it looked like to raise a family. Kids (and a husband!) will follow by example. How could I expect Honour to keep his room clean if mine wasn't? How could I expect Payton to help clean up his toys if I didn't clean up my own? It's not to say that they don't "have" to if I don't because they still totally do, but I find there's less of a struggle to get it done if we are all doing it together. I'm thankful for the renewed sense of vision in my life and am looking forward to this new season for us. I think Tom is too! :)

I was thinking this morning... Well, I think this a lot actually... How great it would be to have unlimited amounts of money. Everyone dreams of this I'm sure, but my dream isn't to drive a nice car, live in an extravagant house, have a maid, personal chef, and a nanny, and not have to watch another kid in my whole life, but to live exactly the way we are now--able to pay our bills and enjoy a few "extra's" every month. Nothing more. Both Tom and I's dream is to be able to bless other people who are living a life of constant financial struggle like we have the last few years, whether it be from a job loss, sickness, or just situations that cannot be helped. I don't believe money can buy happiness, but having lived thru 2 years of financial stress, I know how much relief it can bring. What would it feel like to be able to write a check and pay off someone's mortgage when they had just lost their job so they didn't have to worry? What would it be like to provide a reliable car for a struggling family? What would it be like to "financially set" your overworked parents so they could enjoy the things that are REALLY important? Too bad you have to play the lottery to win it... However, making smart financial decisions now can only enable us in the future to achieve the goals (both financial and personal) we've set for our family. We've decided to take on this motto: "live like no one else so later you can LIVE like no one else." ~Dave Ramsey

It's so true...

And now, the kids are getting crazy-hyper in the house, Ryder just woke up, and I'm off to the reality of lunchtime, diapers, potty training, cleaning, and loving on my kids. :)

Two Year Olds are SO Funny!

Here's a few of the conversations we had this week. Nothing particularly amazing about them, but they're just funny coming from a 2 (almost 3!) year old. ;)
Driving in the car, singing:

"God is big-ger than the, booooogie-man... {insert 5 second pause}... and my dad" *This is the Veggie Tales version of the song, except for the dad part. ;)

We have a gate up at the stairs so I don't have to chase Ryder up them all day long (although my hips might thank me if I did...). I was coming down the stairs, where Payton was patiently waiting at the bottom to be lifted over the gate so he could come downstairs. Here's the conversation:

P: What are you doing, mom?

M: Coming down the stairs.

P: Oh! Be careful! Don't step on me mom!

M: Thank you Payton. I almost did.

P: MOOOOMMMMM!!!! That's SO silly.

HOW do they come up with these things?!

I Beeped Mom!

So, for those close to us or who have spent ANY time around us, you'll know Payton is ALWAYS hungry and has no problem sharing that fact in the most whiny voice he can: I'm HUUUUNNNNNGGGRRRYYYYY mom!" over and over and over. I can remember my mom saying "If you say my name one more time, I'm going to change it and not tell you what it is!". Well, I feel the same way about this phrase--except I can't change it. I literally probably hear it 30 times a day... So, I started setting our kitchen timer for every mealtime, including snacks. He tries to say "I'm hungry" (which is usually means he's just bored considering he either had breakfast or a protein filled snack within 30-45 minutes....) and I say "Oh! The timer hasn't gone off yet! It's not time to be hungry!". It usually shuts him up. Today was different:

P: I'm HUUUUNNNNNGGGGGGRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYY.....

M: Sorry buddy! The timer hasn't gone off yet!

P: {frowns}

M: It's almost time though! You're gonna make it!

P: BEEEEEEEEEPPPPPP!!!!!!!! Mom! I beeped! Time to be hungry!



Kids.

It just gets better!

ANNNNDDDDDD.... 1 more for today.

I have upped my daycare to full time again. This certainly isn't my favorite thing to do, but right now, it's necessary. Today, I have all boys: my 2 (Honour's 1st day of school is today), a 17 month old, a 3 year old, and a 4 year old. Yep. I have 5 boys in my house. This morning was filled with bumps, bruises, scrapes, and LOTS of outside playtime. After lunch, ALL the kids started getting cranky so I decided to sieze the moment and be hopeful for some "me" time. I told the 3 and 4 year olds to sit on the couch for rest time and I'd put on a movie and was getting ready to put the 3 little's to bed. Here's a timeline of how naps/rest time went:


1:03p: take 17 month old upstairs to bed.

1:05p: Come downstairs to find 3 year old asleep on the couch.

1:07p: Make Ryder a bottle, feed him, and put him to bed sans bottle.

1:15p: Come down to get Payton and put him to bed.

1:18p: Turned on cartoons for 4 year old

1:23p: 4 year old asleep. TV's going off!

1:25p: Ryder's not yet asleep, but playing so I leave him. He usually takes a 3 hour nap.

1:35p: Ryder's voice is escalating to a frustrating cry. Leave him.

1:54p: Ryder is now screaming mad that I haven't come for him.

1:55p: "Me" time is over. Ryder is up.


So, I had about 20 minutes to sit and do something today. I was hoping for more and was feeling SO accomplished for getting all 5 boys to sleep (I thought...) Ryder's just going to take a late nap I guess today because he never went to sleep. :( Oh the life of a mommy!

Adventures in Potty Training

So, I thought I should probably write down the few "advetures" I remember us having over these last 4 months or so, especially after my last post. Some of it is just too funny to not write down! So, here's a few...

Adventures in Potty Training, Part 1

"When your child says he has to go to the bathroom 15 minutes after he had previously gone, he probably does"

Thru a LONG series of events, we ended up at the baby department in Nordstroms. I like (well, love) Nordstroms (hellllooooo SHOES!) but the prices... eh, I could go to Target for the same thing at 1/3 of the price. Anyways, we were looking at diaper bags (Petunia Picklebottom for anyone wondering...) and Payton announced he had to go. I was finishing up and told him that he'd just went a few minutes ago (literally, less than 15 minutes earlier and he hadn't had anything to drink...) and we'd head there in a minute. Him and Honour were playing, but just next to me and not being unruly at all. So, a few minutes passes, I finish up, and look over to find the leg of Payton's pants wet and a big puddle on the floor right in the middle of Nordstroms! umm... If it was K-Mart, I don't think I'd be so mortified. The lady behind the counter looked at me as if I was a white trash mom that just let her kids make a mess and not care. Awesome. I cleaned it up and we swiftly left Nordstroms. I haven't been back since.

Adventures in Potty Training, Part 2

"Poop can be scary"

As we were driving down the freeway at 75MPH (that's the speed limit here folks!), I hear Payton crying. I look back and Payton is arching his back as best he can and holding his bunz. Here's the conversation:

PAYTON: Owie! Scared! Monsterrrrrrr coming!!!!

ME: Do you need to poop?

PAYTON: No poop in undies mom! MONSTER COMING! (still holding his bunz)

ME: Is your poop a monster?

PAYTON: Poop. Monster. Scary.

Poop can be pretty scary for a 2 year old when it's not in the toilet.

Adventures in Potty Training, Part 3

"There's always water to drink"

I had just given Payton a cup of water. About 3 minutes later, it was all too quiet... So, I went to look for him. I found him pouring out water into the toilet. Not a bad thing, EXCEPT, his mouth was wet and he said "Look mom! Water! I drink it." I can only imagine HOW much he had drank out of the toilet. At least it was flushed... Gross.

Poop and More Poop

Okay, if you know my family (namely, my mom) at all, you know that the topic of poop is something talked about (in an appropriate way) daily. So, it only seemed right to talk about it. That was also your disclaimer... If you don't like to hear about/talk about poop, just skip this one. ;)

First of all, I'm proud to announce, Payton is COMPLETELY potty trained. We were putting him in diapers at night but just ran out a few nights ago. I had forgotten to get them from the store so when I put him to bed, I just told him we were all done with diapers and that he needed to keep his pee in and let it out when he woke up. And, he did. :) He's done it a few nights now and it's a B-E-A-UUUUUtiful thing! Here's where the poop comes in...

Once summer hit, we started giving Payton the choice of PEEING (notice the caps... Poop ONLY belongs in the toiliet and he knows that) in the potty or on a tree in our backyard. We do NOT let him pee in public--ever, unless it's a public bathroom. ;) However, in our own backyard... That's different. And, ants make great target/aim practice. So, he was doing really well with it. However, last week, I had a daycare child come running in to the house saying "Rachael! Rachael! Payton pooped!". I knew he was outside but figured it was a poop accident in his undies, which is usually not an issue, but he was still learning so... I headed outside to find my child--half naked. Ummm...

Here's the conversation:

ME: Payton, where's your undies?

PAYTON: Over der... Der wet.

ME: Ohhhh nooooooo!!!!! That's SO sad!

(Enter daycare child into coversation)

DAYCARE CHILD: Payton POOPED!

ME: (looking at Payton) Payton, did you poop?

PAYTON: Yes.

ME: Where?

PAYTON: On a tree.

ME: (seriously?!?!?!) Show me where.

PAYTON: Over der... I show you.

(Enter a 2nd daycare child)

DAYCARE CHILD #2: (SQUEEL) EWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!! I JUST STEPPED IN POOOOOOOPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PAYTON: She found it!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gross.

And there's this conversation we had about a month ago:

(Someone had gone #2 in our downstairs toilet and not flushed... I live with 4 boys, 3 of which are potty trained. It remains a mystery as to who did it, but it's not a surprise.... I was doing laundry and didn't realize the toilet needed to be flushed)

PAYTON: Mommy! Poop!

ME: Yes. That's sooooooooo disgusting.

PAYTON: Disgusting. Mommy, is it poop?

ME: Yes. It's poop. We need to flush the toilet.

PAYTON: F-lush the t-wa-lette?

ME: Yes. Please do.

PAYTON: (insert hand into toilet). Mommy, I touch it first? It feels yucky!

Again, gross.

Time to Get Going Again....

It's only been like a year... right?!?!?!? I need to keep this thing going! So, with some "help" from a good friend, I am going to attempt to write down our lives instead of attempting to file it in my already over-stuffed brain. :)

So, I've had another kid since my last post who is now almost 1. That year has gone by fast! It would be too much to try and do a HUGE update since then, so I'll give the shot version. Tom's job has been up and down, good and bad, in the last year and a half. He's now working for a custom millwork shop in our town and loves every minute of it! And the fact that it's only 5 minutes from the house makes it all that much better! Honour is doing great. Going into 5th grade and just getting big. It's sad how fast time goes! Payton is 2.5 (he'll be 3 in October), potty trained, and is ALWAYS hungry.Seriously, we've talked about renaming him "I'm hungry" because no matter how much food he hasor if he JUST ate, he still manages to say those two words. I hear it probably 30-40 times a day--no joke. He's super active and LOVES to talk. Ryder is one of the best additions to our family we could have ever dreamed of! He's an amazing baby who naps religiously (think: 6 total hours of napping per day) and sleeps 11-12 hours a night. I had to ween him early from nursing because he wasn't gaining weight so I think formula has contributed to his sleeping habits as well. Hungry babies don't sleep. He's still a TINY little guy (5th percentile for weight and 75th percentile for height), much like Payton was, but he's healthy and happy and that's what matters! I'm still doing daycare and up until recently was just doing part time. I'm back to full time but not feeling stressed out this time around (as much).I think that probably has something to do with not being pregnant or having a small baby.... We're CONSIDERING another baby, but it won't be for another year at least! We want to get a few of our goals met before we make a final decision. We still have plenty of time. :)

Bumble Cover is going amazingly well. I have nursing covers at a kiosk in Park Meadows Mall, a few online stores, and a small adorable boutique in Redding, CA. We've also branched out to offer Boppy covers (Boppy is a nursing pillow), burp rags, and shopping cart covers. I love to sew! It's so fun to see a business take off like this! All the blood, sweat, and tears weren't for nothing!

Here's a few pics that were recently taken of the boys. We just had family pics done but don't have them yet. I'll post them when we get them. :)

This is Payton's "look". He's always had it and probably always willl..

Maybe a little bit happier?

This is Ryder all the time! Happy little guy!

Friends for life.