Category Archives: Sarah Annabelle
Sarah Speaks – and it’s All Boy
NOOOO!
My precious dolly is taking after her brothers in a big way. We’re having a nice Sunday breakfast and suddenly a large “TOOT!” escapes from under the table. It comes from Sarah’s chair. She immediately beams with pride and says,
“Oh yeah!”
Really? We need some tea cups, stat.
How can this dress-loving, girly-girl enjoy a good fart? Scandalous.
Sarah’s Massive Boo-Boo
Facebook won’t let me post on my own wall (?!?!?!) so hopefully it will let me share this blog entry!
Thank you everyone who replied to my request for prayer! She seems to be doing okay: no vomiting or other signs of a concussion which I think is AMAZING. God really designs these little ones to withstand amazing feats of scariness. She basically nosedived down our garage steps into a pile of wood. It was HORRIFYING. I’m not going to post a picture of her goose egg but it’s really bad and she won’t let me put ice on it to reduce the swelling. Dave thinks she’s okay to just monitor tonight so if she throws up we’ll immediately take her to the children’s ER at Duke. Thank you for all the prayers and comments, I really appreciate them 
Good Morning from Sarah!
This is Sarah’s favorite song, I try to play it every morning, but some days I forget it. I recorded it this morning so that when she’s 20 she can look back and remember that there was a day when she danced with uninhibited joy…along with her brother in his skimpy pajamas!
Henry Caves to the Man
Henry looked up from his copybook the other day and said, “I want to go on an airplane. I don’t care if anyone touches my pee-pee.”
Well I do, I’d make the national news.
Sometimes I wonder if I am the strangest parent on the planet and maybe I should just stop talking around the children, period. He’s with me almost 14 hours a day, most of what he picks up is straight from me, so I’m to blame for these weird out-spoutings. The inner struggle between airplanes rides and the blue glove treatment must have been going on for awhile, I don’t recall grousing about the TSA lately. And the indifference to the TSA and the would-be molesters of freedom and otherwise sort of surprises me. Henry, true to his name, is the one I’d expect to bellow “Give me fondle-free airplane rides or…OOOH!!! Airplane rides!” Okay, nevermind, he is a six-year-old boy.
I’m still not cool with that, I would still end up appearing as some Adam Kokesh podcast segment. I’m sure the screenshot would not be flattering and it would probably be stock footage of me, played by a frothy-mouthed Rottweiler and the ubiquitous cover of “Home Alone” as Henry, post-TSA “inspection.”
Geesh. The things you have to put up with just to get to Disneyworld in this country.
Maybe I shouldn’t write that because:
- We’re not going to Disneyworld.
- Henry can read.
- If Henry reads we’re going to Disneyworld he’s going to be really disappointed when we don’t go to Disneyworld because mama hates Disneyworld without ever even having been there. I have been to Epcot, it was boring. I am not spending any more money on Disney. I don’t care if I went back in 1996 and my parents paid for it and I was 19 and a lot has changed since then and it wasn’t even really Disneyworld, it was Epcot. I’m not wasting my money on not-Disneyworld again. And Florida is HOT, even in January, except it was cold when I was there, and that wasn’t fun either. LOGIC, people!
- Is it Disneyworld or Disney World?
- Oh, I’m seeing it’s Walt Disney World Resort. Well! Pretentious now, aren’t we? Add that to #3!
- There is NO pleasing me. See again #3.
Another Henry-ism, while we’re still on the subject of Henry. Our nightly routine goes as follows:
Read the daily Bible verse and devotional from “My Utmost for His Highest” by Oswald Chambers. Yeah, it’s way over their (our collective) heads, but it’s good for them to hear and I hope maybe they get something out of it to mull over. And if I read it in a librarian voice, I’m thinking this makes it go into the brain better.
Read a chapter or two from the New Testament. We’re almost done with Matthew so you can tell this is a fairly new routine. If the chapter ends with Jesus healing a demon possessed person, I usually read the next chapter so that’s not what they’re left clinging to all night.
Read a chapter from a book. We recently finished Little House in the Big Woods and now we’re on to Farmer Boy, both by Laura Ingalls Wilder.
First, during our Bible reading the other night, Henry stopped me and asked me something like this,
“Mama, why did you tell me that God can only write with his left hand, again?”
WHA?
To which I replied, “Wha?”
He said, “You said He could only use His left hand because He’s sits on His right.”
OH!!
So I explained it wasn’t that God was sitting on His OWN hand, or that He couldn’t write with just one of them, it was that Jesus sits at the right hand of God. Maybe I’d been saying “Sits on the right hand of God.” Maybe some translation says that? Maybe all do? Believe in/believe on. There it goes again, even Dave’s mom brought that up or maybe she brought it up because I’d mentioned it and she saw it somewhere and noticed it too. I don’t remember now. So now I have two phrases to confuse me. I’m just not going to say either if I can avoid them, I am just going to do charades.
He (Henry) also saw that “Oswald” the cheerful cephalopod was on Nick Jr. ”It’s Oswald Chambers!” he cried. Which is just absurd, there’s no way an octopus could be a missionary in Egypt, it’s too dry.
And happy 18 months to Sarah! As we were preparing things to move a china hutch into the house, I found myself saying, “Where’s Sarah?”
Oh. Sitting on the table, sucking left-over icing out of the bag.
Don’t knock off my computer! Oh and don’t get hurt. But I know you’re sure-footed.
We didn’t get you a present, but if I thought about it, I would have wrapped up our newest hole puncher so that in 25 years you could take a picture of the one you got as a present to make me smirk and hiss “Ingrate!”
I will NEVER give you a hole puncher as a gift. I will leave you one in my will.
When Sayings Go Wrong Part Deux/Around the House and Southern/Final Shingles Update
Not as funny as Part One.
“Mama! Are we going to Luke’s house?”
“Not that I know of, why?”
“Because Rhys said we are; he’s just pulling my pants off!”
*************************************************************************************
I am southern and while I am no southern belle, I like doing things southern-ish (much to Dave’s befuddlement) which include:
Wearing a gauzy scarf with sweatpants and a sweatshirt to dinner last night. I thought it added just the right touch of “lady” to an otherwise Walmart look.
Traipsing around the house at 7:30 this morning in perfume and wearing an apron. I love aprons. My friend Ede makes the most gorgeous aprons and I want her to teach me how, or at least point me in the direction of a good pattern for a fitted apron. She has some – dare I say sexy – aprons in her collection. They are sort of 50′s style aprons, fitted at the waist and just beautiful with ruffles. Unfortunately I’ll have to buy out half of JoAnns to get enough material to make one for ME, but the end result would be very cool indeed.
Really wanting a china cabinet to display our good china, even though we never eat on it, at the expense of using the space for things that might have an actual use sitting in the china cabinet. Like school books (NO!!!)
He’s confused by this new wearing of perfume and scarves. I LOVE the scarf trend. It’s like a dream come true. They’re luxurious, and soft and lady-like and make me feel pretty even though there might be an unbrushed, un-makeuped, head sticking out above. You throw on a scarf, you feel like a queen. I’ve been buying my scarves from Target because they’re inexpensive and pretty but my mom went all out (read: Target was sold out and she gets the senior discount at Belk) and got me two beautiful scarves at Belk for Christmas. One is so nice I don’t even have anything good enough to wear with it. Hah. I guess I can find something but it’s really nice and I feel like I’m not giving that scarf it’s due.
Here’s an awful picture of me and Rhys and one of my scarves. I think it’s the ONLY scarf picture I own:
Red eye and all. We had gone to a Mexican restaurant that had been one of the best in Raleigh but it turned out to be an absolute nightmare. I think we waited an hour for our food, then they only brought part of our order, no silverware, there were some other issues I can’t remember now but waiting an HOUR on food? With kids? Night. Mare. Waiting an hour on food with ME?? Just as bad.
I am almost off the Neurontin which sucks my ability to think and type, hence the long hiatus in blogging. The shingle spot is still there but almost healed. There are days I still have residual PHN (post-herpatic neuralgia) pain from the shingles that goes down my leg and partially up my back and over my hip to my hipbone. If you’ve never had it, it’s a hard pain to explain. The pain in my leg feels like it goes all the way to the bone but the hip/butt pain feels very superficial, like a cobweb of fire is laying on my skin. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. And the hip was sore, like a bruise. That really surprised me.
Well that was a whole lot of boring. Maybe this will liven it up, it’s Sarah riding the heck out of her zebra. This child is ROUGH! You can tell she is growing up around boys.
Frankenstorm is Ruining my Marriage
At 2:45 am Rhys woke me up, scared of the wind. I realized Dave wasn’t in bed with me, which was now, us. I checked the computer room – empty. I heard a door make noise downstairs – ah! He’s outside! Rhys heard it too and before I could stop him (it could have been a burglar, after all) he ran downstairs. A few seconds later, he was back, deflated. No dad.
No dad? Then what was that door? Good gosh, I had just sent my 4-year-old downstairs to confront a robber. Then a thought occurred to me. What was Dave doing out of bed, wandering the neighborhood at almost 3 am? He must be having an affair. I ran through a list of potential adulteresses and coming up short, it briefly occurred to me that he might be selling drugs, but he wears such tight pants, I dismissed that notion rather quickly as well.
Finally, he appeared, no explanation for his whereabouts given, but he did seem…well, mad. I said “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?” and he said “Staying up with THEM!” Seems the storm was keeping “them” up (plural, yet referring to only Rhys. This is why I do language arts and he does music). It’s a shame Rhys isn’t a 64-bit armless figure or he would have been oodles of fun at 3 am.
We all tromped back to bed but after about three minutes of poor Rhys coughing and snuffling and curling up like a shrimp yet taking up 3/4ths of the bed, Dave grabbed his pillow and announced he was going to sleep in the guest room. I cringed as I offered, “There aren’t any sheets on the bed…” Rhys piped up and happily offered,
“Grandma took them with her!”
As if Grandma is making off with our sheets when she leaves after a visit. In fact, she brings her own so I don’t have to do any extra washing. Plus hers are way-hay-hay-hay nicer than ours, so I can’t say I blame her for supplying her own.
“Donna! Where are all the good towels?”
Happily, “Grandma took them with her!”
Fast forward to 6:30 am, after a horrible night of sleep with the shrimp who had half of an entire king-sized bed at his disposal, yet still managed to nudge me to the very edge of my side. I love that he wants to be close, but can’t we be close in the middle? Who wakes then, but Miss Snuffles of the Whole Foods Bloody Nose? That’s a story for a later date. Rhys was back asleep so I wanted to get in and out of her room without waking him up. It almost worked until I brought her back upstairs with some milk and she started breathing and he heard it. Why must she insist on making so much noise?
Into the king-sized bed we all piled. A light came on in the hallway, I figured it was Dave. Until Henry appeared in the doorway and then wedged onto the sliver that was keeping me from sliding off the bed into the floor. At this point, I threw in the towel.
Downstairs. Breakfast. Daily routine.
I am sore, tired, but so tired that I am silly, so that’s a bonus, I suppose. Rhys has a horrible chest cold going on, with a lot of wheezing and we’re having to give him shots of his inhaler every 4 hours. Sarah has a clear runny nose (except when she sticks her finger up it, nicking the delicate blood vessels and blood POURS out to many a shopper’s horror). Henry seems find. I have a horrid sore throat but – BUT - I got a bottle of my elderberry syrup at Whole Foods last night so together we can ward it off. Using that plus a regime of tea made with honey, lemon and cayenne pepper (yes, you read that right) I can stave off the soreness. The cayenne is the trick. Just a smidge. JUST. A. SMIDGE. And my master tonic is ready today but I still haven’t replaced the french press that leapt to it’s death from a high, high cabinet in our kitchen many years ago, so I can’t really strain it. If nothing else, it gets the old blood pumping. I love herbal remedies. Some work, some don’t, but they’re fun to try nonetheless.
And a few happy pictures to brighten the mood outside my window, which looks like imminent death. I’m glad we got that little container of rice milk an I have a frozen loaf of Ezekiel bread in case of a real disaster. Wonder if the generator takes gasoline?
Amazement at the pumpkin Daddy carved for her!
My fearless one at the pumpkin patch. Seriously, I think that part of his brain is missing.
My helper pulsing the Cuisinart. Tim Hawkins would say he has a servant’s heart. Enjoy stacking chairs, Rhys.
Rock, paper, scissors – Sarah wins!
Related articles
- ‘Frankenstorm’ Barrels Toward the US (weather.aol.com)
- Rare ‘Frankenstorm’ to Pummel US? (weather.aol.com)
The Post Where I Mention Friends – You Might Be In Here
Sunday – Great day! I volunteered in the nursery at church and loved it. I’m so glad I decided to get the nerve up to volunteer to serve, as idiotic as that sounds. Working with strangers makes me nervous (because church people are so scary) so I’d been putting it off, but decided to text my friend Denise, take the plunge and she helped me contact the right person to get the ball rolling. And it was fun! After church we went out to eat with friends who I am testing to see if they read this blog and the woman danced on the table and took her top off and twirled it around her head. Tarheels. What can I say? I guess Red Robin brings out the wild in some folks.
Increased loyal readership by one via paranoia? Check.
And if I were from Michigan and looking to support a local sports team, I’d pick NC State. I’m just throwing that out there, perhaps based on false anecdotal evidence cited above, but mostly because we have a cow with a see-through stomach.
Later that afternoon my mom came up and brought a red velvet cake which we promptly ate.
Want to burn your hand? Try lighting that many candles at once.
Tuesday – The alarm went off and I found Rhys in bed with me. Dave had already gotten up to go hunting with one of our friends. I don’t know if that set Rhys off or what, but it was a scream-fest from the moment he got up until *pausing to think* bedtime. CC was a nightmare. He wouldn’t sit in his chair. AGAIN. It’s just so frustrating. He KNOWS two of the kids in the class, he’s been to one of their houses several times and she’s been to ours, for heaven’s sake! I know he knows a third one’s name because he calls him “Little Noah” (they’re the same size, so from where the ‘little’ comes, I am clueless) so that’s half the class he’s familiar with. He has the same tutor from last year!!! And I am sitting RIGHT. THERE. But still, he persists in clutching to my pant leg and making faces like he wants to murder someone.
Then Sarah decided she didn’t want to be in the nursery any more. Poor Mrs. Lori now had a class with seven kids, two of which were mine, both of which didn’t want to sit still and pay attention. Rhys slowly inched up towards the front of the room, still sitting off to the side as if he didn’t trust that the other kids weren’t going to circle him like a hoard of zombies and rip his guts out for snack. Sarah finally got so loud and rambunctious (read: climbed up on a table in the back of the room and threw her hands up in the air and waved them like she just didn’t care) that I had to remove her. Rhys stayed put. RHYS STAYED PUT!!!! The classroom has a Dutch door which made all these comings and goings interesting, but it did come in handy for checking back in on him. He was standing in front of the class doing his presentation on Henry’s little green motorcycle like a normal human being.
That’s it. I am never going to class with him again.
For the next 45 minutes, I followed a happy, exuberant Sarah around the church, killing time until CC was over. Nursery? No. Wasting my time in the hall? Yes.
When class was over, I was thrilled to find out that one of the other boys in Rhys’ class had been making conversation with him. They both like green. I hope this was a bonding experience. Maybe we can have them over to play sometime so Rhys can make a friend – he doesn’t really have his “own” friends besides Colt and since we’re not at PLCC anymore we don’t see Colt as often. And Kaelynn MOVED. Ahem. :D Rhys really is a fun kid if he’d just let his guard down. I keep wanting to stand up and make an announcement, “There’s really nothing wrong with him, he just has horrible social anxiety and he’ll be fine by Christmas! He just likes to be with his brother and if he were in Mrs. Roxanne’s class you’d see a different child. We swear, don’t we Mrs. Lori!? Really, he’s normal! I promise!!!”
Oh Tuesday. The upside? I did not roll into anyone’s car.
Wednesday – I don’t know, but it was horrible. I cleaned up THIS.
TWENTY POUNDS OF LEGOS. DUDE.
Thursday – Sadness, my mom is leaving. I will bawl. We are going to go down next week so we can drive up to the mountains and see the leaves before they all fall off. The boys have never been to the real mountains. There are mountains around where I grew up, but they’re small. Of course the kids think they’re big but oh ho ho! Are they in for a treat! We’re talking the Blue Ridge mountains! We’re talking candied apples they can’t eat because of peanut warnings! We’re talking chocolate nut clusters they can’t have for the same reason! We’re talking about unpasturized apple cider that will scare me, but I’ll probably let them try. Woodworking and dolls and old-timey things. And steep, steep inclines, and sand ramps for 18-wheelers who can’t slow down on the descent. Ahhhh, mountains!
Oh, and before I forget, Sarah and I both got new purses this week. Here’s mine
Shout out to Emily for the oxblood red trend knowledge!
And here’s Sarah’s
Yes, that’s Sarah’s purse. No, that’s not Sarah. She’s playing with Rhys’ transformer.
“And there’s a smartphone in here!”
“What did I do with my keys?”
“TRANSFORMERS! MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE!”
Okay. There’s no accounting for taste. I’d play with the purse myself, but Sarah also likes to play with a bottle of Italian salad dressing so who’s to judge?
Break out the quarantine tape
Yet another round of sickness. This time it’s me and Sarah. I was sick on my birthday, so I don’t think it counts. I’m still 35.
I’ve turned into one of those ladies in houses of ill repute who got hooked on opium in the days of the gold rush, except I am hooked on (non-narcotic) elderberry tincture. From what I can tell, it does help my cough (I don’t have one!) and it tastes so good. I’m going to have to make my own because it’s pretty expensive at the store, and I think I can make it for $5.50 at home. There’s alcohol in the stuff from the store, I don’t know how to do that at home though…I fear it may not be as effective at creating a fun atmosphere knocking out my cough.
Last night was ghastly. I woke up on the couch at 9:30 pm, laying on my back, feet higher than my head, with my mouth agape, throat sore from breathing through my mouth. Everyone else had gone upstairs to bed. I drug myself upstairs and froze under four blankets, while wearing long sleeves and socks. I finally went back to sleep around 1 am, I think.
Sarah was up from at least 2:30 am when she threw up on Dave until 4:30 when one of us finally got her to sleep. I think it was Dave. She wasn’t having any of me. I tried, but she turned me down cold. It was insulting. Rhys was up the entire time so needless to say, today was horrid. I sent him to his room several times just because he was SO TIRED and I knew he was behaving the way he was out of fatigue and not just out of Rhysiness.
Would this garbage leave our house. This is week #2. I hope next week is not Rhys’ week to be sick. Either get it now, Rhys, or don’t get it, please!!
Oh and I am the worst homeschool mom ever. Monday we did math and CC. That’s all I could handle. Yesterday we did Phonics – same reason. Today…today we did (guffaw) PE! I sat in a chair, they played outside.
And now I am going to collapse onto the couch (again) and shove kleenexes up my nose so I don’t have to waste energy moving my arms to wipe and blow.
Post-Ice Cream Chaos
The definition of “sugar rush” along with a very sad Sarah who did not want her ice cream cone to end, nor did she want to be cleaned up.
See also: typical boys.
