I am overwhelmed with feelings of awe in regard to my family in general and husband in particular.
 
He still has this hard mass of something in his gut that causes him to shrink back when I forget about it during a hug.  I also forgot about it when I asked him to change a flat tire for the other lady of this house (dumb, dumb, dumb– he never mentions it and I guess with the chaos that is our life, the fact that he’s injured gets pushed out of sight/mind more than it should!!!).  He didn’t even bring it up!  He’s still going to work as scheduled.  Take that, all ye who skip work because of a head cold or hangover! 
 
Tomorrow afternoon he gets to go in and find out the results of his ‘culture’.  That word will forever bring to mind the idea that one should be sprouting wooden shoes or a kimono once ‘it’ is revealed. 
 
Add to that our budding fashionista.  She received in the mail a beautiful butterfly shirt with a matching long sweater that her grandparents found at a clothing sale.  I almost waived the "We change ONE time… ONCE… and you’ll know it’s time to change if you’ve woken up and it is MORNING."  (leading to at least once a day being asked… "Is it morning yet?") but knowing that faltering on a rule with this child will lead to months of set back in that arena, I held fast.  This morning she hurridly doned the coveted clothing only to become stuck midway through the changing process because she "didn’t have any pants to go with it".  I quickly explained that jeans would go with it if none of her other items did.  She knew that already, but she didn’t HAVE any jeans.  So into the clothing mix goeth I.  (God knew this house needed at least ONE individual with fashion sense, but why couldn’t it have been ME instead?) Oh, you DO have jeans, they are just underneath your other clothes.  See? Here are these flower jeans.  "No, I need some with nothing on them."  Deep breath.  "Okay, here are these.  They’re just right.  They don’t have anything on them."  She hesitates with them in her hands "No, they aren’t scratchy enough." and gives the jean-colored pants – not real ‘jeans’ jeans, just pants that look like jeans.  With the feeling that we’ve suddenly switched from dressing to playing ‘go fish’ I dive back in the drawer and come up with a pair of pants that aren’t quite ‘jeans’ material, but aren’t light pants either.  "Here, honey, these will work!" She studies them doubtfully and scratches at them with her thumb. 
"Yeah, those’ll do.  They’ll be okay, I guess."
 
Ten minutes later she’s outside in her butterfly tops, her winter coat and REAL jean SHORTS, her pants discarded on the floor of her room.  Apparently they weren’t scratchy enough after all.  Time for us to empty the kids’ hamper so that her ‘scratchy jeans with nothing on them’ will get back in her drawer.
 
Then there’s Asa who learned a new word today.  The kid is turning TWO in a month, so the fact that he just started saying ‘mom-mom’ and ‘dad-dad’ recognizably and in context is a little disturbing.  The fact that he can also do a resonable impression of the word ‘marshmallow’ if he knows he won’t get one until he says it is ALSO disturbing.  (Okay, he can also say ‘tato’-potato, ‘ello’ -oatmeal, and ‘tuh-tuh-tootsie’ – tootsie roll – the boy has his priorities straight at least.) So he and his daddy managed to find a word he can say very clearly and Asa is SO excited.  We even took a video of his little repetitively spouting new word happy dance in case we need to bribe him into mowing the lawn someday.  And the word is…
 
BUM!! BUM!!  -he yells as he races to me, his eyes glowing with excitement – "BUM BUM BUM" he calls out rushing back to daddy for a high five.  He is obviously male as the bathroom related words rank at least 10 minutes of complete ecstacy.  Good grief!!
 
You must understand that I’ve never cared for the word ‘butt’.  Nor is this because it is slang or because it is crude or for any of the other reasons that older generations dislike it… I just don’t like it.  I also don’t like "bottom".  Don’t ask me why.  Many years ago during high school and a severe lapse of judgement I tuned in to a Tom Green show which I later found to be disgusting most of the time.  But at the time I flipped to it, Tom was chant/rap/singing a rather enchanting song about his bum "My bum is on the cat, my bum is on the dog, my bum is on the man, my bum is on a log…..  My bum is all alone." (enter the showdown corral whistle whistle here OOO EEE OOO EE OOOO) The switch from infomercial to this completely random song had me ROLLING and granted me my approved term for the posterior.  (Hmmm.  That’s not bad.  maybe I should have used that.  Can’t you see my toddlers running around talking about posteriors?)  I was thrilled.  This is what my children have grown up with.  Never mind that it has completely confused my eldest who is convinced that while both he AND Lithany have bums, SHE does NOT have a BUTT.  =) My husband is thinking some reeducation is in order here.  I’m thinking, you bet, go for it.  Reeducate all you want. I’m WAAAAAY behind you.
 
So Asa, congratulations on your first anatomical word.  Maybe I’ll actually record it on the calendar that I’m over six months behind recording in.  (Worse than Sonata with whom I’m only behind three months or so…  unless you count ‘percentage of life span’.  Then she’s the more deprived.)
 
Then there’s Orion who, unbeknownst to me, clipped a clothspin to my back pocket at some point today (I don’t know why I’m teaching him to write, since I’m sure this is the prelude to ‘kick me’ signs.)  Upon finding it, I asked who on earth had done such a thing.  (Sounds like a stupid question, but ‘the dad’ WAS still in the house at the time… it COULD have been him).  Heard a tell-tale mischievous giggle from the boy.  We then commenced to chasing about the kitchen until his slippers wiped out on the slippery kitchen floor (just assume it’s slippery because it’s freshly washed, okay???  At least it’s not so sticky as to keep him from slipping.)  Returned the favor by pinning it to the cuff of his pants (no back pockets available) and then ran out the door and around the swingset while he’s chasing after me with a full-on grin.  One I wish we saw a little more often.  He also ran meds and water out to daddy when Matt forgot to take them before heading out to work.  He also volunteered to change Asa this morning.  Both diaper AND clothes.  He changed Sonata last night and laughed his head off when her kicking feet kept getting the best of him.  He also randomly pointed to a page number in the book we were reading and said "33!! It’s 33, mommy!" – I know we’ve been counting with a number chart up to 40 and 50, so perhaps it shouldn’t have shocked me that he actually learned something but it did- He later pointed out 35 and 37 to my growing amazement. 
 
And in other news, I found a child’s copy (read, ‘has a very few illustrations within the covers’) of the Living Bible paraphrase and read it during blanket time.  It was a little rough what with Sonata whining and Asa fussing about something or other and Lithany wanting us to look at the ‘pictograph’ she made out of her magnets (more like a giant rectangle, but who’s going to argue with a fashionista, anyway, unless, perhaps to point out that we don’t talk to others during blanket play?) but it got done and the kids were all present and accounted for and (what really made it worthwhile) Orion asked me to continue after we concluded.  So we’re making progress.  Also, Asa enjoyed hearing the first chapter of The Big Picture Story Bible, otherwise known as ‘Asa’s Bible’ despite the fact that he’s never actually had it read to him.  He liked it.  He listened.  He didn’t try to get down.  More progress and on multiple fronts.
 
So you can see, perhaps, why my overall feeling tonight is one of ‘blessedness’.  God is good.  Not just on days like today, He is on the ones where I whine too, but I’m FEELING it today.  And that’s good too. 
 
 
 
 
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