Mini me

Or more accurately, Mini Jeff. Look what I just happened upon:


Sweet Wyatt took it upon himself to sweep the garage! Jeff will be thrilled with the outcome and even more excited about his son taking on manual labor without being asked!

Font of Knowledge

Natalie listens to the radio as she falls asleep at night, but apparently is starting to pay attention to what's being said. Namely, she listens to the non-music aspects like ads and dj's. A few days ago, she wandered into the kitchen for breakfast telling me all about how the weather was going to "be a yot yike yesterday, sunny and tool" which I didn't really think much about. I figured she'd gotten up, looked out her windows, heard me telling Wyatt what to wear to school and put the pieces together. But no. She later informed me she knew it because the man on her radio said so.

Please imagine my delight when I just went in to check on her quiet time and she told me that "on Monday, we tan get tickets to Disney, and then we tan get ice!" You guessed it, she heard an ad for Disney on Ice coming to a nearby arena. Fortunately for me, she believes will be unable to get the Disney Ice "betause we are going to church and den yeaving for dampa and dandma Rock's." Dodged a bullet.

Conversations

My girl is pretty sure she's got stuff figured out and I dare you to tell her she doesn't. For instance, today on the way home from school, we had this conversation:

Me: What where you working on today at school?
N: Well, we were practicing the letter seven. And I already know the letter seven (said in an exasperated voice).
Me: Oh, really? What do you know about seven?
N: I know that it's down and then across.
Me: So then you also know that it's a number and not a letter, right?
N: No, it's a letter. And is it the one that has a dot over it?
Me: It's a number, Natalie. and none of the numbers have dots over them. You might be thinking of a lower case letter i or a lower case j.
N: No, I'm thinking of a lower case one.
Me: There's not a lower case one, Nat. There aren't any lower case numbers. Only lower case letters.
N: No, Mom. That's not what I'm talking about! I'm talking about the lower case one that has a dot that my teachers put on my papers.
Me: Are you maybe thinking of an exclamation point?
N: Yes, Mom, that's what I said.

And a few weeks ago, we had this conversation while driving and listening to music:

N: Mom, this is Adele!
Me: You're right, this is Adele.
N: What's the name of this song?
Me: It's called "Rolling in the Deep."
N: No, it's Adele.
Me: Right, it's Adele singing her song that's called "Rolling in the Deep."
N: No, Mommy (in an escalated voice), this is ADELE. I know because Daddy told me.
Me: And that's right, Adele is the singer and this is her song is called "Rolling in the Deep." She has lots of other songs, too.
N: Mom. You're not listening. Daddy said this is Adele, so this. is. ADELE.
Me: (realizing this is a ridiculous conversation) Yes, Natalie. You're right and Daddy is right. It's Adele.
N: Thank you, Mommy. That's right.
30 seconds of silence
N: Now what's the name of this song, Mommy?

Or just now, she came barreling into the kitchen with her keyboard and microphone (thanks again, Mom and Dad) and, with a delighted expression on her face, said, "Mom! I've got some really loud noises in here! Let me show you." She then proceeded to push the volume button all the way up and play before saying, "I told you it's loud!" Indeed, Natalie. Indeed.

Uncle

I am so slow on the uptake. Clearly there are some lessons for me to learn that I'm too dense to receive. How do I know? Just when I was basking in the glory of all in my family being well, Millie had to make a trip to the vet. Now, she has a long and fascinating medical history, but yesterday was the first time we had to acknowledge her age (nearly 12-and-a-half) and the thought the vet would bear devastating news. Thankfully, we have a guarded diagnosis of spondylitis which means her spine is swollen/irritated/maybe infected and we have a treatment plan. The prognosis is okay, which only means that the damage can't be undone but we can, hopefully, prevent more damage and get her some relief. She's such a good girl and is getting a little more attention from all of us.

So let me say this: I am thankful that all of our illnesses have been those which run their course or can be treated. I am thankful for the days we all feel good. I am thankful for my littles, including my four-legged one and for the medical care available to us. Maybe that will do it.

UPDATE: I wrote this yesterday and then didn't post it because I wanted to find a picture of Millie girl. I realized I haven't taken a picture of her since October (!). Also, the vet says her labs look good so he's optimistic about being able to aggressively treat her. Finally, I'm glad I've adopted this thankful mentality, otherwise I'm sure the guy who pulled out in front of me tonight on my way to a fundraiser at Natalie's school would've have completely crushed Nat's side of the van. Instead, I came to an abrupt stop with maybe an inch to spare and no one was hurt. Shaken, but not hurt. I wasn't even mad about the giant pan of homemade mac and cheese landing in the floorboard because lo, I am THANKFUL.

Absence...

Has it made your heart grow fonder? Let's see…When we last met, it was early February and I was amused with Wyatt's steam drawings. Shortly thereafter, February fell apart. We began with a weekend family trip to Atlanta only to have it cut short by a puking kid (W) in the amazing Georgia Aquarium. Seriously, that aquarium is beautiful. I hope we'll make it back and actually see all of it on our second go. I also hope that our next visit doesn't involve anyone making an abrupt exit from the dolphin show. That was awkward.

The next weekend had us celebrating Wyatt's final basketball game of the season. He played on a church team through the Y, and our last game was against the other team from our church. In other words, they played their friends. It was great fun to be cheering for both sides and it cannot be said enough how much we love our church here. Everyone headed to the church activities center afterward to eat lunch, get trophies and play. It was during the play part that Natalie tripped over a basketball and knocked herself out. She was airborne for a brief moment before landing on her head, so she got some style points but the part where she passed out cold took all the joy from her gymnastics abilities. So, we spent the next few hours in the ER where we learned that she was technically okay but needed to take it easy for the next ten days. I thought she was going to tell the doctor where to put it when he said she couldn't ride her bike.

I think it was the Monday following that little escapade that I reminded the kids we'd be meeting my parents in Hilton Head for the coming weekend. I was even so brazen to say something along the lines of, "so no one can get sick, no one can get hurt, we just need a good long weekend at the beach." I'm so freaking brilliant to call out the universe like that. So we all know how this ends (spoiler alert: not well) - Wyatt got sick for the weekend. He rallied enough (while well medicated against his ever-present fever) to visit the beach, play in the hot tub and do a little exploring in the area. He did not maintain that rally, though, and by the middle of the next week we were at the doctor's office where we learned he had the flu. Ugh. So then Natalie got the fever and we started her on Tamiflu. She, thankfully, never got very sick. I, however, thought I might not ever feel well again thanks to testing positive for flu and getting a raging sinus infection (I'd like to give a special shout-out to the flight doc who thought I needed to let it keep 'running its course'. That didn't quite work out and after 13 days of fever I found myself at urgent care on a Sunday afternoon, pretty sure I'd never participate in real life again.) In the midst of all that, my parents visited us in Sumter and despite our hopes that they would escape the misery, we infected them too. I'd like to give virtual awards to Jeff and my mom for being the only two who didn't require medical intervention.

Here's the best part: I started this post two days ago, thinking that I could finally look back on all this and laugh. LAUGH AT THIS, said the universe! And so Wyatt came down with a high fever and sore throat on Sunday evening which brought a diagnosis of strep yesterday. I have never, NEVER, been so glad to hear a doctor say that it wasn't a virus. I'm super-impressed with my kid for getting strep without having tonsils, but I'm even more impressed with how fast cephalexin kicks in. He'll be back at school tomorrow, praise be.

So that's it. That's where we've been. I have many pictures to share from all that time (always taking pictures, just never posting) and more importantly have a little someone's 4th birthday to share. But I had to get all of that out of the way first. Next post will be picture-heavy, I promise. My final wish to anyone who's still reading: may you never, ever, for the rest of your living days, get the stomach flu, a concussion, the for-real flu, a sinus infection, or strep throat. And Universe? I hope we've paid our dues for the entire calendar year.

This Explains the Water Bill

I guess it's pretty important to get all that steam generated. Can you guess which small person was in this shower?

All airplanes, all the time. That's my Wyatt!

What Goes Around

Jeff grew up a military child and lived in Valdosta, Georgia in his preschool/early elementary years. He remembers there being alligators, the mean dog that bit him and his mom correcting his pronunciation of "five" by saying, "Jeffrey, it's not fahv, it's five." We laugh about it because he's still convinced there's a gator in every body of water (every. like ponds, streams, lakes, puddles…), doesn't like Afghan dogs or those named Isis and has a few words in his repertoire that come out a tad southern (hill = heel and grandpa = graympaw) on occasion.

So here I am, on a beautiful southern Sunday afternoon, listening to my kids and our neighbor friend coloring in the other room. Their chatter turned to counting and then the boys were counting by fives. That's when I heard it: the dreaded "fahv" from my own sweet boy. I asked him to say five, which he did just fine, but when the counting started out again, so did the fahv. I have to assume this is because it's practiced out loud with the entire class, but I found myself saying the infamous phrase with a smile on my face, "Wyatt, it's not fahv, it's five." He laughed and so did I. I'll keep correcting it, though I know he'll turn out just fine, like his daddy, and in truth, it makes me awfully happy to see that each place we live leaves a little imprint on us all.