Who shrunk my shirt?

You know your day isn't starting off the best when you get dressed and realize you shrunk your shirt about 5 sizes.  I literally looked at myself in the mirror for a few minutes trying to figure out how I could have possibly done that.  The only other explanation was that my waist grew several inches in length during the night.  I was at a loss until the words of grif from earlier in the morning popped back into my head "mom, where is my aggie shirt?".  I was wearing an 8/10 year old kids t-shirt.  When the crap did my kids get big enough that I could confuse their clothing with mine? 

Fight or Flight.........or pee?

I have to say, I am not a fan of this night class thing with Nate.  We have been doing it for about 4 years now and I still get freaked out when the kiddos are asleep and I am sitting in a quiet house without him.  I swear every little sound I hear is someone breaking in to kidnap me (because I am worth so much).  Or I swear I see people walk by the bathroom door when I am showering.  We have a see through shower curtain (I believe that was Nate's idea) and I just know I am seeing things out of the corner of my eye.  It doesn't help when I watch re-runs of Criminal Minds.  One of these days I will learn my lesson and stop.  It makes me think, what would I do if someone actually was in here? Yes, we have guns.  Yes, that was a bit of a fight --I am not a gun fan.  No, I do not know how to use them.  Yes, I am making myself sound really lame right now.  I'm going to add learn to shoot a gun to my to-do list.  But really, would I attack or would I freeze?  In my mind I see myself going all ninja on the intruder.  In reality I would probably just scream like a girl.  Okay, I know I would scream like a girl.  You see, a few years ago I was all by myself at Taco Time closing up.  Which by the way is a big no no but the lady who cleans the floors asked me if I could do it because she couldn't.  Me being the generous person that I am told the other employees to leave, I would be fine.  So I locked the doors and went to work moppin' away.  The whole dining room is filled with glass windows so I just know a creeper is out there watching me.  But I braved up and went to work.  I was just getting done, had all the lights off except one and was double checking (okay, triple checking...darn ocd) to make sure everything was shut down for the night.  I was over my fear for the moment and was happily singing Seasons of Love from Rent when I turned the corner and there he was.  My boss.  Smiling.  First, I lost all sensation to my entire body.  Second, I screamed as loud as my little vocal cords would allow.  And third, I peed my pants.  I'm not talking its like I sneezed and a little trickled out because i've had one too many kids pee.  I'm talking it was a good thing I was going home because I needed to change my drawers pee.  I swear that little incident took ten years off my life.  I didn't even try to fight.  Or run.  I stood there, screamed, and peed my pants. It's nice to know I have what it takes to protect myself.

Give the poor kid a donut already

Reason 589 as to why I hate diabetes (I know I said I was going to try not to blog about this much anymore but this one really got to me).  Dilon's class got to have a donut/doughnut? --don't know which spelling is actually correct and when I tried to google it both versions came up, interesting-- anyway dilon's class had a donut party yesterday because they all got 100% on a test or something of the sort.  His teacher is usually pretty good with the whole diabetes thing (she is diabetic herself) but yesterday when he asked to call home to see how many carbs it was for his shot she said no.  The poor kid had to sit there and watch everyone else eat their doughnuts because she didn't want him to call me.  My blood is boiling a little still thinking about it.  At least he has a good attitude about everything.  He just wrapped it in a napkin and ate it after school. 
I'm having another pity party week with all of this.  The other night I asked him to make a list of all the supplies we needed from the pharmacy.  It really sucks knowing that my 9 year old knows what humalog, lantus, needle tips, ketone strips, bg meters and syringes are.  I hate that he knows how to draw insulin into a syringe and give himself a shot.  I hate that he has to carry a pack around with him just so he can eat.  I hate that he has to have his emergency glucagon kit with him everywhere he goes.  I hate that the insurance is telling us they won't cover his insulin (which is a few hundred dollars for a couple months supply) anymore without a doctors note. I hate that he won't eat the grapes that he wants because it means having to give himself a shot.  He would rather go without.
But I do love this kid of mine who is fighting this stupid disease I hate.  I love that he is patient and cooperative and willing to do what is asked of him when needed.  I love that we have the medical supplies available to us.  I love that we have doctors who are near us and have the expertise to teach us what we need to know to care for him. 
I'm trying so hard to turn my hateful attitude into a positive one with all of this.  Things could always be so much worse and I truly do realize that.  I just get all grouchy and hateful when someone doesn't let my kid have a donut with the rest of the class. 

On a brighter note, there will be no surgery needed on his thumb!! Hallelujah. 

Sorry about the downer post.  I fell much better now getting it all of my chest.  Diabetes sucks, but life is good.

buh bye tonsils

There are officially two less tonsils in this house.  Right now i'm not jumping for joy (the poor kid is in too much pain for that) but soon I will be.  It will be so nice for him to be able to breathe and swallow.  Those suckers were large and in charge.  Pretty much touching each other.  Dax was a champ yesterday.  He was super cooperative with everyone.  When he came back from the surgery he cried very little even though he was clearly in a lot of pain.  When anyone would ask if he was okay he would slowly croak "yes".  I think the hardest part of the day for him was trying to cover his legs/unders when they were walking him back to surgery.  Modest little fella. 

Last night and this morning were rough but he asked to play uno this afternoon so he must be doing somewhat ok.  Now if only I could get Baylor to leave him alone.

 **woody totally photobombed my picture**

my little monkey

So yesterday I decided to blog about how much I love the age 3.  Here is just one more reason to add to my list. When they are three they no longer do stuff like this:

 I love that he has to make out with the mirror to keep himself from falling.

This boy climbs on everything.  I get him down and he runs to the next room to see what else he can get into.  However, if I was as cute as him I would climb up on the counter just to look at myself in the mirror too.

3

I love the different stages of life my kids go through.  I look forward to (and fear) what will come in the future as they get older.  It makes me a little sad to know that certain things (like bringing a newborn home from the hospital) won't be happening again.  But I have decided one of my favorite stages of life is having a 3 year old.  Not that I don't enjoy this point in time with my other kiddos but there is just something about age 3.  They are becoming more and more independent yet they still have such an innocence to them.  They are inquisitive and funny.  And they love life and the simpleness of it.  Here are some examples, from my 3 year old, of why I love this age so much.

First of all lets start with a picture (or 2) of the cutest 3 year old I know.

Yes, I am biased.  I should be.  But seriously, look at that face.  You have to admit, it is stinkin cute.  I took these pictures because I thought he was looking particularly cute in his hat.  Little did I know that he had found a candy bar in the diaper bag and was hiding it under there.  Sneaky little devil.

**He is completely ecstatic over finding a penny.  "LOOK MOM!!! MONIES!  Where's my piggy?"

**He will look in the mirror every morning when he is getting dressed and say "i'm sexy and I know it".  I hope that confidence sticks with him throughout life.

**The best part of the day for him is kicking my trash at Uno.  Every time he wins (which is pretty much always) he throws his hand in the air and yells "winner chicken dinner".

**He isn't embarrassed to hold my hand or give me a kiss.

**He thinks I am his best friend and number one girl.  Makes me sad for the day he will have a new number one girl.  A new hand to hold and cheek to kiss. Even though I loved him first.  Makes me appreciate my mother-in-law on a whole new level.  She raised this a spunky little boy (i'm talking about nate here if I lost any of ya)  into a great man then passed him along to me when the time came.  I know my time to do that will come sooner than I want it to.  Until then, I am going to relish in the fact that i'm still Dax's number one gal.

**He thinks he has conquered the world when he gets his shoes on all by himself.  Pure delight covers his face.

**The best things come out of his tiny little mouth, for example:
     -can you hook me up?  (meaning tuck me in)
     -mom's have birthdays too?
     -WHAT?!  dogs get haircuts like people?
     -Can I have an ocosiple (popsicle)
     -Can we go see a whalephin (i'm still not sure if he's talking about a dolphin or a whale)
     -Excuse you pig face (when someone burps)


I know most of this won't mean anything to those reading it.  This post is mostly for me.  Because to me, these are the things that complete life.  They make me happy and whole and I want to remember that.  He reminds me everyday how great life can be if we stop and enjoy it.

burnt bacon anyone?

This is why sick moms shouldn't have to cook dinner

One of the perks that comes along with being mom is even when you feel like you've been hit with 1000 hammers, the little ones still have to eat.  Nate walked in from work to a smoke filled house, alarms going off, me standing in the kitchen trying not to cry and dilon trying to clear out all the smoke. The alarms went off for at least 10 minutes.   When I burn food I burn it good.

Never in my life have I burnt bacon so badly it was completely black.  And muffins.  Who burns muffins?  It's not that i'm completely lacking culinary skills.  I can cook decent enough to feed this family of six.  I don't know what my deal was last night, besides that fact that I thought I might die.  

At least Nate was awesome enough to load everyone in the car and take us out for a family date night to the maddox drive in.  Maybe I should burn the bacon more often.