Jack turns five

It's so hard for me to believe that my first baby is turning five tomorrow.

I can't stop looking at him.  Seeing in his big boy face that same little baby face that has always been there.

He's the person who enabled me to become a mother.  That's kind of amazing.

He has the kindest heart of any five year old I know, and is the most loving boy.  He is curious, independent, intelligent, creative, and comical.

We went on a birthday date this past weekend to the Academy of Natural Sciences, and I had such a fun time with him - riding the train into Philadelphia, eating breakfast from a street vendor sitting outside the museum, checking out the fossils and bugs and bones (he was fascinated) and then riding the train back home again.  What precious time with my sweet boy.

Happy birthday, Jack! 
I love you so very much.

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For better or for worse...

Today is our sixth wedding anniversary.

When I think back over the past seven years since we met, at a little pub in Concord, Massachusetts, and I think about the person I've come to love with every part of my heart, I am so thankful to God for bringing us together.

Of course, as blissful as our new found romance was then, I knew that Patrick was the kind of person that I'd been dreaming about.  I could tell that he was special.

And the more I get to know him, the more I know for certain that I was not wrong.  Because not only is he the kind of husband who makes me feel beautiful, and special, and treasured.  The kind who isn't afraid to roll up his sleeves and help with whatever needs to be done.  The kind who loves children and being silly with them and singing to them, and comforting them when they're crying.  The kind who loves God with all his heart and soul and mind and strength, and not just on Sunday mornings at church, but in every part of his life.

But he's also the kind of husband you want with you when you go through a year like our past year has been.  The kind of husband who holds you when you are afraid.  Who cries with you when the doctor tells you he's sorry, but there is no longer a heartbeat.  Twice.  Who works a full day and then prepares dinner and packs up the bags for your three young children and then drives them almost an hour away every single Tuesday for months because you have a hospital appointment the next day.  Who brings every meal up to you in bed every single day for eight weeks, while working a full-time job.  He's the kind of husband who gives you unbelievable amounts of slack when your emotions are all over the map and you can't rein them in.  Who can see you at your absolute worst and still think you're great. He is the person who supports you even when you know he needs support, too.

I have never known a love like that from another person, and I'm convinced that God knew what lay ahead for us when we met way back on that cold December night in New England.  I remember him walking me to my car and thinking I'd really like to see him again.  I didn't know yet that he was the one for me (it would only take me about three more dates to know), but I just liked him.  He's unbelievably likeable.

Yes, God knew that we had a rough road before us, and that we would fit a whole lot of living into the next six years, but he also fit us together perfectly.  See how even the curves of our faces fit together?  He knew that we would each be the missing piece the other would need to get through something like we just went through, and I am so grateful that He did.  Because there is no other person that I want to go through this life with than Patrick, and I can't wait to see what the future will hold.  If we could get through that, we can get through anything.

Bring it.

Dinner prep

Every once in a while, I like to give a little glimpse into the craziness of our house.  I love doing what I do, but there are times when it is just too much and a mommy needs to get out of the house. 

To babysit someone else's children.  (Yes, that's what I did. Now I realize why I was so very wrong to think that I'd have no problem being a mother for the first time because I'd done so much babysitting.  The two are not alike in the least. That was a piece of cake.  And there was wine.)

Here's how tonight's dinner preparation went:

I was using a meal that I had to add my own shrimp to, so it's basically just seasoning the shrimp and cooking it and then cooking the pasta that it gets served with.

I set the three boys up at the table with some new coloring books and new crayons, (well, Jack with a new doodle pad and sharpened pencil 'cause that's how he rolls), since the box for the meal says it takes about 15 minutes. Blarney is at the bark-her-ever-loving-head-off stage, so I have her gated in the (postage stamp-sized) kitchen with me.

The boys did their thing for about one minute. Then PJ wanted to show Jack how to play the box game (you know, finish the box by connecting the dots and put your initial inside. I just showed him that yesterday) well, Jack wouldn't let PJ use the pencil, there was yelling and hitting and finally Jack spit (!) on the book so I gave him a time out. He screamed "no!" and I gave him the option of a time out by itself or a time out with a spank. He opted for the first, but threw a toy across the room before he went to the time-out spot. That's an automatic smack on the hand for him today since that was his fifth toy throwing for the day, and he was warned. I'm sauteing shrimp and the water is boiling for the pasta, but I go over the gate, smack his hand, and Blarney grabs something off the counter. 

I come back, turn down the shrimp, add the pasta, get the papers from Blarney. She's looking for something else to get, so I squirt her with some water in a squirt bottle as I tell her no, then Thomas is trying to climb over the gate into the kitchen, so I squirt him with some water too, which sends him screaming (it was not my finest mommy moment, admittedly), then Thomas goes back to the table and falls off his bench. 

Over the gate again, kiss the booboo, back to drain the pasta quick so it doesn't overcook, bring Blarney outside. finish up with the shrimp, add the seasonings to the pasta, combine the two and Blarney is scratching the shizzle out of our screen door so I bring her back into the kitchen. Jack hits PJ with a plastic sword and PJ is screaming. I head back over the gate to separate and threaten the two of them with timeouts. 

Then I go back to kitchen to finish stirring, and Blarney has left a puddle on the floor. I pick her up to take her back out onto the deck - this time leaving the screen open and just closing the glass - and realize that she must have walked in it too because where her paws touched my teeshirt is soaked. I ran upstairs to change my shirt and come down to Blarney out on the deck barking, Thomas asking me to read him a book for the thirtieth time, and Jack and PJ seeing how far they can run and slide on their knees on the new laminate floor. I'm counting down the minutes until we're going to need stitches from that new game.

Dinner is ready, but now I'm sweating and exhausted. 

15 minutes my arse.

Wondering how long it will be before I'll have the time to cook something from scratch...