because i don’t have enough lists in my life

I’m so OCD. Nothing makes me happier than to cross something off of a list, and as a SAHM and small business owner, it’s pretty much the only way I’m able to have any semblance of balance or organization in my life. So to celebrate the end of spring and beginning of summer (which has been heralded by a string of 92-97 degree weather for the foreseeable future), I naturally decided to make a list of goals for the summer. I mean, I sure know how to party it up, huh? There’s nothing worse than realizing an entire summer has passed by and you have nothing to show for it. Along with an unnatural affinity for lists, I also thrive on accountability, so hopefully me sharing my summer goal list with you won’t be entirely too boring. Allow me to present to you my Summ-ah Goals (all of which allow plenty of room for flexibility):

1. Finish Beth Moore study

*I’ve been doing this study with two other women from the church for a few hours a week while our older kids were in preschool. We’ve fallen off the bandwagon since preschool has ended, but I’d really like to see it through myself.

2. Wake up early 2-3 days/week to study and pray.

*I miss this, I need it, and have been sadly neglecting one on one time with my Creator and Abba. I like the idea of waking up before the kids and reading on our back deck now that the days are longer, but depending on Preacher Man’s work out schedule I may need to plan on doing this at nap time or bed time instead.

3. Teach Bug all of his letter sounds and begin teaching phonics.

* My original summer goals for him were to wean him from the pacifier and potty train him, but those goals are mostly already accomplished. He knows most of his letter sounds, but I’d like to make sure he knows them all and begin teaching him how to sound out words. I’d also like to teach him how to count from 1-20. Most of the time he can do 1-13 with a fair amount of accuracy, so it’ll probably just take some focused teaching to improve this.

4. Teach Bear to walk

*I guess this should be “help Bear learn to walk,” since I know every kiddo walks on their own timetable. I just felt badly that none of my goals included him and felt like I wanted to be conscious of working towards something with him.

5. Lose 30 lbs.

*Losing 30 more lbs this summer will put me at my goal weight by fall, which would be awesome. I’ll start official training for a half-marathon in the fall and would really like to not worry about losing weight when I’m training.

6. Save X-amount towards a house down payment.

*Of course, I have an actual amount in mind, but it seems rude to post that. It’s a goal that’s attainable with a lot of self-discipline and will help us be on our way to being able to put down 4-5% when we’re looking for a house at the beginning of next spring.

7. Get Serwa Chic products stocked in a local store.

*Yeah, this one scares me. I’ve made a list of several local baby and/or cloth diaper stores, but have procrastinated contacting them for fear of…well…failing, I guess.

8. Sew 20-40 more Perfect Fit AIOs to stock.

*I used Bug’s time at preschool to sew off my hiney so I could focus on other aspects of the business throughout the summer. I’m loving not having to worry about sewing, but would still like to re-stock some of my Perfect Fit diapers by the end of the summer. I can likely take my time and sew occasionally during nap times or after bed times.

So there you have it – my eight official Summ-ah Goals. I have other goals in the back of my mind – like making sure I get the boys out of the house at least once a day, teaching Bear to say and/or sign a few more words, allowing Preacher Man regularly scheduled time to work out, and getting 1,000 fans on the Serwa Chic Facebook page, but the eight goals I’ve listed are the ones on which I want to focus my attention for the next few months.

I recognize this probably isn’t my most fascinating post to date, but I’ll check in once a month or so to let you know how I’m doing. Accountability and all that. So how about you? Do you try to define summer goals, or do you like the freedom of experiencing each day as it comes? If you have goals, what are they? I’d love to help keep YOU accountable, just as sharing these with you helps keep me accountable!


potty post

We’ve been potty training for a little over a week now, and I say with much surprise that it’s going stunningly well. Of course, I realize that by blogging about it, Bug will instantly regress and cause me to write an entire post about how I shouldn’t blog about progress until I”m 100% confident. And yet, I will risk being jinxed by the blog fairies and tell you that our little 2.5 year old is well on his way to being potty trained. He still wears diapers at naptime and bedtime, although he often wakes up from his naps with a dry diaper. I think the thing that’s most helped me not get frustrated at the process was reading to expect accidents until the child is five years old. Accordingly, I’ve packed an extra pair of pants and a pull up pretty much everywhere (the stroller, the diaper bag, my purse, the car), and will probably keep a spare set of underwear and pants on hand for quite awhile. Expecting accidents helps me be patient when they do occur, and having a Plan B helps me to not have to cut short what we’re doing and head home. However, Bug IS doing awesome about “holding it” until we can get to a potty, and we have had a good amount of successful “poo-poo”s in the potty.

The phrase, “Let’s go say bye-bye to your poo-poo!” is not something I thought I’d say. Along with, “The sticker doesn’t go on your bing bong, Bug – it goes on your sticker chart.” Yes my friends, this is how I’m currently using my college education.

He’s had very few accidents and is learning about the entire sha-bang eagerly. Since he’s only pottied on our little toddler potty at home (he’s always kept his pull-ups dry when we go out), my plan this week is to get him used to using the  adult potty and help him understand how to take care of his bizz-ness himself. I just have to tell you that I was very tempted to make a pun on the phrase, “bizz-ness” I just used and say “whizz-ness” instead. Remind me again why you choose to read this blog?! Bizz-ness isn’t even a word.

The most rewarding aspect of potty training has actually not been the promise of less cloth diaper laundry or no longer buying disposables for Sunday School. The most exciting part is not when I consider the extra space Bug will have in his room without a changing table, or the time I’ll save in not having to change one child’s diaper or the other every hour. And even though it does warm my heart, my favorite part of potty training is not when Bug tells me he’s going to keep his “twain umma-wear” (train underwear) nice and dry. My absolute favorite part of potty training is the look Bug gives me when he’s gone potty. His little blue eyes are big with pride, and he can’t wait to tell me so I’ll be proud of him.  We’ve not had to use any “bribes” beyond a sticker because it seems like our reactions of joy and excitement are reward enough for him. Even though Bug can be one of the most stubborn kids I’ve ever met, my Mommy heart melts when I see how much he longs to please us and make us proud of him. Little does he know that while I am happy about his pottying progress, it doesn’t take a thing more than Bug being who God created him to be for me to be proud of him.

Still – if me wildly clapping my hands and doing a potty dance (that may or may not include a little move  called The Sprinkler) is what it takes to get my boy potty trained, then by no means will I be stopping anytime soon. Don’t be surprised if you come over and I break out into a dance when 13-year old Bug goes potty. Just a Mom trying to show her kid she’s proud of him – and maybe show off some sweet dance moves in the process.


riled up

I came across a post recently about which I can’t stop thinking. It’s a post by Rachel Held Evans titled, “Thou Shalt Not Let Thyself Go.”  I can only imagine that I was intrigued by the title because of my sinking feeling that after two back to back kids I have indeed, “let myself go.”

When Preacher Man and I were dating, he told me one time that it was every man’s secret fear that his wife would bait and switch him. That she would look one way when they got married and another (presumably less attractive) way after they’d been married for awhile. That she would let herself go. If he reads this, I have a feeling that he’ll probably wince at the thought of those words representing his mindset and tell me that I’m lovelier now than the day he fell in love with me. But still – those words are a part of the larger message I’ve received about getting older, having babies, getting wrinkles, having stretch marks, getting grey hair, and having widened hips. That larger message is loud and clear. At best, the message is that those aspects of my body are to be covered, highlighted, and creamed to death. At worst, the message is that I’m only as valuable as the amount of heads I turn. Having just lost 30 lbs, I can attest to the fact that I’m treated very differently by men then I was 30 lbs. ago. That’s not to say I was ever disrespected or ignored, but I’m no doubt smiled at more often now. I’m listened to more closely. My jokes are laughed at more. In short, I’m treated as if I’m worth more because I’m more attractive. This sometimes subtle and sometimes overt message that women of faith are given seems to creep ever-so-closely to the message we’re given by society. Our worth is equated to our level of attractiveness. A good Christian woman remains attractive to her husband because that makes her worth staying faithful to.

The Godly woman is asked to walk a very fine line that is infuriating. On the one hand, we’re told that we need to be attractive to our husbands in order to keep their eyes and hearts from wondering. But not too attractive, lest we draw unwanted attention. We need to dress in figure flattering clothing, but not too figure flattering – lest we cause a brother to stumble. Mark Driscoll (for whom I actually have a lot of respect) was quoted as saying, “It is not uncommon to meet pastors’ wives who really let themselves go; they sometimes feel that because their husband is a pastor, he is therefore trapped into fidelity, which gives them cause for laziness.” I audibly laughed when I read that, because my experience has been in stark contrast. If anything, the pastor’s wives that I know are like guard dogs. Because our husbands are in a position of leadership and are looked at with great respect, we well know that some women will be attracted to the man God has given us. We know that some of those women will even subtly flirt with our husbands, and some of those women will gladly flaunt their bodies in hopes of getting a second glance. From our husbands. The pastors’ wives I know fall into the opposite category of trying to dress and be attractive enough so as to keep their husband’s eyes and mind where they belong. So before you get all judgey -judgey about how the wife of one of your ministers is dressed on Sunday morning, keep in mind that she’s most likely deeply insecure and is just trying to keep her man.

And you know what? It’s not working. Pastors with beautiful wives are being unfaithful. Men married to celebrities, super models, and porn stars are cheating. I think Christian wives have had a great disservice done to them with the message that you have to earn faithfulness, and I think it’s killing us.

I would agree that in a healthy marriage, each spouse desires for the other to be attracted to them. However, my message to all you men out there is this: I’ve never met a woman (at least a woman who wasn’t in an abusive relationship or with a husband who was steeped in sexual sin) who DIDN’T want to be attractive to her husband. Even a newly postpartum Mommy whose belly still looks six months pregnant, who can’t find time for a shower, who walks in pain and shudders at the idea of sex, who smells like spit up and who may have under-eye circles a mile wide – yes, even she wants her husband to be attracted to her. She wants her husband to marvel and be in awe of what her body has accomplished and is accomplishing in those early weeks. She wants him to know that he has never seen a more beautiful sight than a woman’s body doing what it was created to do.

Even the woman who has worked in a stressful job for two years and whose body has taken the brunt of that stress – who has gained 20 lbs, whose face has aged, and whose shoulders literally look weighed down with the weight of the world. She wants her husband to be inspired by her dignity and strength, and find her beauty absolutely stunning simply because it’s her. It’s the her he pledged to love, honor, cherish, and be faithful to. There’s no clause in there about that only being the case if she gussies herself up and earns it.

Most females I know have a very clear message spoken into their hearts from the time they reach about six years old. Every woman feels like she is at the same time “too” something and “not enough” something. I’m too fat. I’m not curvy enough. I’m too brainy. I’m not smart enough. I’m too busty. I’m not busty enough. I’m too reckless. I’m not fun enough. I’m too proper. I’m not lady-like enough. It’s overwhelming, and everywhere we look we are only reaffirmed in that message. As often ( or possibly more) as men say they are confronted with lustful temptation, we are confronted with the message that we will never, ever, ever measure up. That at our core, we are simply not good enough.

It’s shameful to me that the men in our midsts are only affirming this message. Our men who love God are heaping condemnation on their wives for so-called “letting themselves go.” They are only affirming what we’ve been told and shown since we were little – that our worth is based on how attractive we are. In this case, Christian wives are being told that they must earn faithfulness. What would happen if men loved their wives truly unconditionally? What would happen if men were genuinely so in love with the soul of their wives, that instead of being chagrined when life circumstances change her body, he is amazed and in awe of the transformation? What would happen if Christian husbands spoke beauty into their wives, instead of showing her that she’ll never be as beautiful as the things that tempt him?

What would happen if instead of affirming the message of worthlessness in their wives, our men of God redeemed them? 

I’ll leave you with one final thought from the blog post that inspired me to get all riled up. I don’t know that I realized how pervasive these beliefs were in my life until I saw them in writing. I wept when I understood the distance these lies have caused between God and I, and the sense of worthlessness I carry around. I pray that I would look to God to find out what He thinks of me  and how I’ve cared for my temple- something tells me it’s vastly different than the lies I’ve allowed myself to believe.

Rather it (the goal of the author) is to help set women free—from the lie that God is disappointed when our bodies change, from the lie that it’s our fault when men cheat, from the lie that we become worthless as we grow older, and from the lie that that the Bible is just another glossy magazine whose standards of beauty we will always fail to meet. 

i want to remember this

Since this blog is as much of a baby book for me as it is an update for friends and family, I occasionally feel the need to document the details of something I want to remember forever. This phase of my life will most likely always be enshrouded by the fog of exhaustion, so it’s important to me to remember before I forget.

Bear’s most favorite game in the world right now is his game of “flip-around-on-my-stomach-during-diaper-change-and-try-to-rocket-off-the-changing-table.” As thrilling as that game may sound, it results in me having to put my cloth diapers on him upside down and nearly having a heart attack every time he lurches toward the side of the changing table. Occasionally I can grab a new toy that will occupy him while I do a diaper change at warp speed. I happened to grab this toy from Bug’s pile of toys last night:

One of Handy Manny’s faithful companions, Turner the Screwdriver.

Because he’s not a fan of me taking toys out of his hands right now, I let him keep and play with ‘ole Turner while I gave Bear his last bottle before bed. Bear’s second most favorite game in the world right now is, “I’ll-put-this-in-your-mouth-and-you-pretend-to-eat-it-and-I’ll-giggle.” He usually likes to pretend to give me his paci, and I love seeing his eyes squint in joy at the silliness of Mommy eating his paci. As he was drinking his bottle, Bear put Turner towards my mouth, and I pretended to munch on the toy (You know the drill…”Nom Nom Nom Nom Nom.”). He chuckled a little, but then my sweet nine month old got the giggles.

He would drink his milk for about five seconds, then look at me out of the corner of his eye. When he made eye contact with me, he pushed the bottle out of his mouth and belly laughed. Then I belly laughed, which made him laugh harder. After a minute of laughing, he’d get serious again and try to drink his bottle. After about five seconds, his eyes would start to shift towards me, and the entire process was repeated a good ten times. I wasn’t doing a thing but making eye contact with him, but you know how it is when you have the giggles – that’s all it takes.

I did my best to soak in every detail of that moment. We had just come home from a walk in the 95 degree weather, so his hair was all sweaty and he smelled especially baby-like. When Bear grins, he literally smiles as wide as his little mouth will let him, and all you see are his squinty eyes, cheeks, and four teeth. I took a moment to treasure the look Bear gave me when he laughed – one of trust and familiarity. It was almost like I was sharing an inside joke with my nine month old son. With each giggle spell, he leaned in towards me and we looked at each other and laughed. It was a moment of perfect sweetness.

I want to remember this forever.

hands and feet

Without an ounce of shame, I’m copying and pasting this from Patrice’s blog. I’ve spent some time today thinking about why exactly I’m so passionate about these orphans with EB. Here is the conclusion to which I’ve come – I’ve known Jonah since before he was born, and I well remember the initial prognosis. Matt and Patrice were told that he likely wouldn’t live past a year, and every month of his life that passed was a miracle. I know the massive amount of research, care, money, time, and even spiritual warfare that Matt and Patrice have spent to care for Jonah. I know that for most of Jonah’s first year of life, Patrice didn’t have a minute to herself because she was 100% spent on caring for Jonah. I remember how hard she worked to give him breast milk so that his immune system would be as healthy as possible, I remember the battles she waged (and still sometimes does) to get him to eat enough calories to allow his skin to heal, and I know that she watches him closely for signs of illness, and it’s because she’s able to keep such a close eye on him that none of his illnesses have threatened his life.
Taking care of a child with EB is not easy. It’s quite literally a full time job. With lots of overtime and back to back shifts. I can literally feel my heart weighed down in heaviness when I think about these EB kids in an orphange. My prayer is that they’re getting the best care the staff is capable of giving, but you and I both know that kind of care doesn’t compare to a Mommy’s care. A Mama who knows that child inside and out – knows him so well that she knows he has a cold before he does. Knows exactly where he’s prone to blister, and can address each blister right away to prevent further damage. Knows when he’s hurting especially badly, and has the time to hug him, kiss him, and speak into him words of strength. A Mama who prays every night, every morning, and often in between for her kiddo’s health and safety.  The fact that these little boys are in an institution when someone across the world wants nothing more than to hold the boys in their arms and bring them home is heartbreaking. And dang it if I’m going to sit idly by and watch them stay in that institution.
These families have been equipped so well by God to bring these boys home. God has provided them with a support network, paperwork guidance, and EB experience. The one thing…
The ONE thing….
standing between them and these sweet EB kids is money. Plain old money. And I think God wants us to step up here. We can be the hands and feet of God and help bring these boys with special needs home to their forever families who want so badly to care for those special needs. We GET to be a part of this. If everyone who read this just donated $5-$10, this family would be able to bring these two sweet EB brothers home. Skip that coffee this week. Say no to lunch. Put those jeans back. Your small sacrifice can make a HUGE difference.
And after that ridiculously long-winded introduction, here is Patrice’s original post:
You guys are so amazing. The fact that your donations raised about $4,000 in just a few days to bring John and Carson home just blows my mind.

There’s big news. Karrie and Donnie’s dossier was submitted in Eastern Europe today. They could get their appointment and have to travel in one to four weeks. Because the boys are separated and in two different regions, they have to pay for two adoptions. AND they have to stay longer in the country. That means more expenses over a longer period time and more time that Donnie is out of work.

They still have so much to raise – 
facilitator fees – $18,000
plane tickets for the four of them – $7,000
medical checks for the boys before they can leave the country – $300
passports for the boys – $2,000
the boys’ visas – $808
housing while there (8 weeks) – $4,480
food while there – $1,680
in country travel (the boys are 400 miles apart) – $3,000

With the $12,500 they’ve already raised for this part of the process (they’ve already had to spend thousands on the stuff that came before this), they still have around $25,000 to raise before they can travel. And that’s not including the money that would be helpful to raise for Donnie’s lost wages while they’re gone. All of that to say, it’s a lot. The fact that there are two boys and they are so far apart and in different regions makes the process much more expensive.

They are running out of time to raise the money. The boys know they are coming. They are waiting.

They need better care. Many of the wounds they have could be prevented. From the looks of their photos, I’d say they’re most likely anemic. And they may have infections too. So much of it could be prevented and fixed if they could just make it home.
There is no reason the boys should be suffering these huge, deep wounds. With the right bandaging materials and daily care, they will have a life they’ve never known. One filled with the love of friends and family, the hugs of parents and siblings, the safety and warmth of a real home, and some of the best medical care in the world.
I know $25,000 to $35,000 sounds like an overwhelming amount. But just think if we all shared this story everywhere we could think of (you can direct them to this post if you don’t have the time to write one up yourself) and donated anything we could, just think how quickly we could raise this money?
My God is so Big, so Strong and so Mighty, there’s NOTHING my GOD cannot do!
I know there are critical people out there (I got a snide comment from one just this week) that think, “Well, if they’re going to make it so expensive to adopt the kids they don’t even want, why don’t we just say no? When is enough enough? Take care of your own kids.” 
I didn’t respond (trust me, it was better that I didn’t), but my thought was, “Well, I guess we say no when we’ve determined that when Jesus commanded us to take care of the orphans, he only meant the well ones, the convenient ones, and/or the American ones… or maybe when we decide that that command doesn’t apply to us at all.” The Cannells have stepped up to do an amazing thing. Families like them step up every day to do the same kind of amazing things. What if we took “bear one another’s burdens” to heart and did all we could, as a community, to bring these sweet boys home?
What a testimony. What a story we’ll have to tell, Friends.  
A couple practical thoughts on raising funds quickly – collect change from your coworkers, ask to hold a special collection at church, get a dollar from everyone you know, post about it on Facebook and/or your blog and ask everyone to give $5, email all your friends and family and ask them to donate (give them a direct link), ask for donations to the Cannell boys instead of gifts for upcoming birthday/graduation gifts, participate in the Cannell’s puzzle fundraiser, give your leftover PayPal balance if you have a PayPal account, host a meal for friends/church family and ask them to bring donations, offer your skills/services (photography, organizing, sewing, whatever) for donations instead of payment (if you can afford that)… the list can go on.
Now, please, I know many of you have already donated all that you can. Please know how much I appreciate that and I’m not trying to guilt you into donating more. But if you have felt this tugging at your heart and haven’t yet donated, now would be the time to do so. And if you have already donated, we just ask that you please spread, spread, spread the word… anywhere you can think of. (I just emailed a short version of their story and a link to this post to everyone in my contact list. Yep. Sure did.)
You can donate HERE or HERE. Of if you’d feel more comfortable writing a check, you can send one made out to Donnie Cannell to our PO box (right sidebar) and I’ll be sure to forward it on to them.
May God bless you as you bless those in great need. Thank you, Friends. I love you all (even you, Snarky Comment Guy).
Peace and love.

sickie bug update

Having a sick kiddo is the worst. First of all, your Mommy heart breaks to see your child acting so lethargic and sad. When your kids are young and unable to articulate what hurts (or maybe yours can. anytime i asked bug what hurt he answered, “nooooooo huuuuuuuuwt!” and buried his head in his blanket. alright then. sorry for trying to help), it’s also tough to feel like you know why they’re sick and spend a lot of time second guessing how you’re treating the illness. And then of course, there’s the selfish part of you who knows that once you’ve drained yourself staying up all night taking care of your sickies, you’re going to get whatever illness through which you’ve watched your kids suffer yourself.

Sometimes I think the anticipation is worse than the actual sickness. But then I remember how awful being sick feels, and I realize that’s a ridiculous statement. Nonetheless, the anticipation IS a killer. With every meal I eat and every cup of coffee I drink, I think Is this really what I want for my last pre-sick meal? Will this hurt when I’m vomiting it up in four hours?  I know, I’m all sorts of cheery today.

The good news is that Bug is definitely on the upswing. He’s on a steady dose of ibuprofen, but his fever is definitely going down. It got as high as 103.8 yesterday and he felt warm enough to cook an egg on. He’s not vomited in 24 hours and is eating mostly normally. He had developed a subtle rash yesterday, which had me ready to take him into the ER. I decided to wait until today to make a call, and the rash is almost gone. And his mood? Well – at this moment, he’s bouncing around our living room saying, “Hip-ily, Hop-ily! Hip-ily, Hop-ily! (Hippity, Hoppity, of course)” He also tried to jump from the couch onto Bear, so….

I think he’ll be alright.

Now we just wait to see if Bear, Preacher Man, or I get it and pray that if we do it’s a significantly less severe case. Preacher Man will be out of town for a bit, so I’m not eager to experience Bug’s virus with no help for the boys. So we wait. And eat really bland food in the meantime.

*This photo was actually taken about six weeks ago, but that’s pretty much the exact face I’ve seen for the past couple of days.

our last day before the end of the world

It’s one of those questions that people will be asking for decades to come. “What did you do in your last day before the world ended?” Did you empty your bank account? Did you tell your loved ones how much they meant to you? Did you spend all day at a theme park riding roller coasters?

I actually didn’t even know about all this end of the world hoopla until I logged onto Facebook this morning (Mommy-hood means I’m kind of living under a rock lately), but it got me wondering how I would spend my last day if I knew it were my last day. I know my children’s children’s children will undoubtedly ask, “Great Grandma, how did you spend your last day before the end of the world?” so it’s really only fair that I document it. Right?

Fridays are Preacher Man’s day off, so we laid low during the morning and enjoyed our coffee and french toast. I decided to start officially potty training Bug, so he spent a lot of time running around in this Thomas “umma-wear.” It seems only ideal that he should be potty trained before the rapture, after all. I went for an 8 mile run around 10:30, but had to stop at 7 miles. It was already 85 degrees and muggy, and I think I need to work on making sure I’m super hydrated the day before I run and probably take Gatorade with me on my runs. You know….when I’m running around the track in heaven.

Preacher Man was on boy-duty while I was gone and he had them down for naps by the time I got back. When they woke up, Preacher Man took Bug on what he called a Dad-venture to get Draino and a new coffee machine. On the off chance that the world didn’t end today, I wasn’t about to put up with a stopped up kitchen drain and a non-working coffee maker. They headed out right as a severe thunderstorm rolled through the area, so they apparently had a lot of fun running through the parking lots in the rain. I did some Serwa Chic computer work and got some precious tickle/giggle time with Bear.

Once they got back, we headed to dinner at our friends’ home with a few other staff families. The Camacho family is from Mexico and Jose Luis is on the Family Life Team with Preacher Man.  Jose Luis and Adrianna made us some of their favorite authentic Mexican food. As in – they worked all day making homemade corn tortillas authentic. We drank beans from a cup, ate cooked cactus, put homemade pork rinds on our tortillas, and gobbled down every single bite. Preacher Man and I have discovered a love for a Mexican drink called horchata, a sweet cinnamon rice milk, and Preacher Man could eat a spicy salsa that Adrianna makes by the gallon-full.

By the way, I’m really that red right now. The Texas sun is no joke, and I can’t seem to help but soak up lots of it when I run. Yes, I’m using sunblock and yes, it’s sweat-proof. Apparently the Native American heritage in me is bound and determined to just be red all summer.

We had a blast, but Bug was kind of weird the entire time. He’d had a great day and was even making me giggle while we drove there, but once we got to the Camacho’s home, he hid himself behind Preacher Man’s legs and started being whiny. There were tons of other kids there – some of his favorite friends in the world, actually – but he only wanted to be near us. Very weird…especially for our little social bug. Right when we were sitting down for dinner, Bug plopped himself on the living room couch and fell asleep. Preacher Man moved him to a chair in the living room, and he barely stirred. All the other kids were running around him – playing swords, shrieking, laughing, yelling – and still he slept. Bug rarely falls asleep in the car and never-ever-ever just falls asleep in a random place like that. We ate our dinner and checked on him every few minutes. During dessert I noticed he was starting to feel warm, so we headed home. He cried quite a bit and didn’t want water or graham crackers (his favorite food in the world) on the way home.

I kind of knew it was coming. My Mommy instinct told me this was more than just an over-tired Bug. Sure enough as we sat in the car while Preacher Man gassed up the car, I heard the telltale sound of a toddler getting ready to vomit. Putting on my Super-Mom cape, I ran around to his car seat and caught what I could. Yes, in my hands. Once he was finished, I cleaned him up and kissed his hot forehead. Preacher Man grabbed a plastic bag from the gas station in case we had any future issues, and we hightailed it home. Bug thankfully fell asleep off and on for the trip home, and despite many false alarms, we made it home without incident. We laid the boys down and hoped for the best.

Bug was up a few times last night – sometimes getting sick, sometimes wanting water, sometimes wanting to cuddle in our bed with us. He’s on a steady dose of ibuprofen to keep his fever down and we’re slowly giving him water and some bland food. As I type this, Preacher Man and Bug are cuddling on the couch, because really – if the world does end today, is there anything better than that? Probably not.