Cheer Kicks and Chocolate Chips

Gluten free, Dairy free Chocolate Chip Pudding Cookies! 

This is not a cooking blog. Trust me.  That would be the meanest prank on sweet, innocent, trusting people who need a decent recipe.  
I cook. But I am not a cook. I try new recipes. But I follow them verbatim because I just need to feed people, rather than impress them with my skills.  

However, I have always loved whipping up a batch of cookies and I have been known to make a pretty darn good one!  Baking is more my style.  I actually take a lot of pride in how a batch of cookies turns out.  I have a handful of friends who very predictably walk in and immediately ask if I've baked cookies that day. THAT my friends, does this girl's heart some good.  

Until last November. When I was diagnosed w/ Celiac Disease. Which happens to be Latin for "you can never just whip up another anything ever again".  Everything is more complicated.  

I've experimented with numerous gluten free cookie recipes for my family to enjoy.  I can always count on my sweet Ben to yell, "These are better than gluten Mom!"  That kid is the "pleaser" in the family though and I know he's actually dying inside.  The rest of my family is just quiet.  Jerks.

Things got really fun a couple of weeks ago when I had to eliminate dairy from my diet as well.  Don't ask.   I don't want to talk about it.  

What I DO want to share is that I came up with a DELICIOUS Chocolate Chip Cookie that is gluten free, dairy free and includes a little ingredient I like to call... Vanilla Pudding.  Trust me.  These cookies are "Better than gluten!" 

They are so good that yes, I did a few cheer kicks in my kitchen.  I may have swung a dish towel around my head like a helicopter too.  Old habits die hard. 

It's your call whether you tell people that they are gluten free before they taste them.  If you do wait, then you could jump up and down and point your finger at them yelling, "Gotcha fools!  They're gluten free!" ...I mean, if that's your thing.

Your happy dance is also completely up to you.  Do give yourself some room though... just in case you have the impulse to throw your leg up over your head and then point your fingers to the sky.  Anyway... 

A few tips before you start:  
1. The gluten free all purpose flour mixture is up to you.  I preferred the batch I made with the flour mixture recipe by Gluten-Free-Girl but my family preferred the batch made with Bob's Red Mill All Purpose Flour.  (Which is a heck of a lot easier if you're new to baking gluten-free.)  Whatever you do, use one that doesn't already contain xanthum gum OR omit the xanthum gum in this recipe.  
2. Use parchment paper on top of your baking sheet.  
3. The consistency of the dough is weird.  It looks gross like play dough.  
4.  Do not attempt a double batch in your Kitchen-Aid mixer.  It won't be able to handle the consistency and stiffness.  You could burn out your motor and/or not get it all mixed well enough.  
5. Here's the bummer.  And it's a huge bummer for me.  The dough tastes awful.  It really does.  Don't bother.  But the cookies are WORTH IT!  

Ingredients:
2 1/4 cups of all-purpose gluten free flour.
1 tsp. xanthum gum
1 tsp. baking soda
1tsp. salt

3/4 cup canola oil  (If you don't need it to be dairy free use 1 cup of butter for heaven's sake!!)
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup white sugar
1-5.1oz. Instant Vanilla Pudding (Or whatever flavor you want!  Butterscotch is great too!)
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
Chocolate chips (I use dairy free)

Pre-heat oven to 350.  Line your baking sheets w/ parchment paper.
-Mix the flour, xanthum gum, baking soda and salt together in a separate bowl.
-"Cream" the canola oil and sugars together in your standing mixer.
-Add the box of pudding and mix well.
-Add the eggs and vanilla.
-Mix well and remember not to expect it to look like regular cookie batter.
-Scoop out spoonfuls onto the lined baking sheet.  I add chocolate chips to each individual cookie because I like to control how much chocolate is in each cookie.  (Add this to the list of reasons I should be on medication.)
-Bake for about 10 minutes depending on your oven.  Check them @ 8 minutes.
-I let them sit for a bit on the baking sheet before I remove them.

Please tell me if you try this recipe and what the honest response is.  I have a lot of very loving people in my life who may just like to see me dance in the kitchen.  

   

And so.

I begin again.  Without knowing where to begin.  Without knowing how.  I need to, despite.

Despite all that has kept me from opening up and out, I begin again. Despite all of the things in the past two years that have arrested my heart from writing freely-- the good that has been too good to express with enough color and the hard that has felt all too paralyzing to write through.  I must...despite.  And so...

And so this start might be my simple justification. Of my absence:  from writing, from sharing, from engaging in anything beyond soccer cleats, superhero capes and polka dotted skirts.  But to begin again, I am compelled to grieve some of what has been lost. And smile on some of what hasn't yet been celebrated in writing.  So that...

So that I can begin again.  Maybe newer.  Maybe fuller.  Wiser?  That feels like a stretch.  I'm not sure.

Jonathan and I have looked back at all that has been packed into two years.  All.  Packed.  In.  We have laughed hard at the good.  We have almost burst at what feels beyond rich in our lives.  Three of the most beautiful and amazing darned kids on this earth.  That's what they are.  I don't know why we get to be their parents.  But I'm so thankful.  We are so thankful.

Maria's advent into our life completed our home.  Really that's how it feels.  She came in like God's grace snowing down on us (and sometimes sheets of hail and wind with the sass of a pounding rain).  And this child...this child.  She is breathtaking.  She is breathtaking alone and all on her own.  The kind of beautiful that you stare and shake your head at.  Because she actually sparkles.  No lie.  Her smile, laugh and voice actually sparkle.  But what's so much more is how she fits into what we already had.  She's not a complement to it.  That makes her sound somewhat insignificant. Like sprinkles on a delicious cake.  She is a true piece of it we didn't know we needed.  That we didn't realize would be so completing.  And so...

And so her brothers continue to make me marvel.  The term 'child development' sounds so... otherly. So outside of what I'm watching when I'm watching my child, my children "develop".  Watching my children grow and learn and feel and hurt and ask and need and wonder and fear and delight.  All of these developments become more intense as my boys get older and so I feel more intense about them.  More intense around them.  The notes I send in their lunches are painfully thought out and re-written as I hope they read my love in them and not just the words.  The time I spend volunteering in Sam's classroom likely looks desperate and pathetic as I stare at him while I work with his other classmates.  The naps I steal with Ben some weekdays are totally selfish and again...pathetic as I anticipate him being in full day school next year. Because this is all happening so fast.  It's just so fast for me.  And so...

And so just those three and the immeasurable joy and awe that they bring are enough to make me feel too overwhelmed to express fully.  But there's more.  Because our lives are filled with other kids too.  Kids who fill our house every Sunday night to look deeper into who our God is and who they are as they prepare to leave for college this fall. Kids who allow us to be a part of their lives.  Kids who have way more on their plates than we did when we were their age and yet they still find time to pause with us and look at life together.  They still have time to grab coffee, a walk or frozen yogurt with us.  And in this, we are blessed richly.  And so...

And so what is all of this if I don't have someone to share it with?  But I do.  I do.  I have no idea why our love comes so easily to us.  But it does and it has and we'll fight like hell for it if there is ever a time that it doesn't.  Because there is no earthly love so safe in my life than the love I have with Jonathan.  There is no place like the home we are to each other and I don't have a home outside of him.  I don't want a home outside of him.  And so...

And so our past two years have been rich.  I use that word a lot I know.  But I really love it. Because it doesn't mean that it's been perfect.  It means 'abundant', 'highly valuable', 'deep in color'.
Deep in color.  Oh deep in color.

So much color comes from the discomfort we experience.  Yes, here it comes people.  The laundry list of woes and "Are you kidding me?" moments that have peppered our life since Maria was born.

That sweet girl's first year was filled with the pediatrician, emergency room, urgent care, etc.  Scars on her gorgeous, baby forehead, chronic ear infections and ear tubes are some of the reasons health insurance should be one of Martha Stewart's "Good Things."
Her brothers added an adorable pair of green glasses, a case of Mono and a tonsillectomy to the medical bills... and that should have been enough.  A diagnosis of Celiac disease was my contribution to the withdrawal of our health savings account.  Of course that carries with it the coinciding tidings that I can never eat anything containing gluten again.  Ever. Ever, ever.  Like...ever.  Again.  Happy Thanksgiving.  And happy grocery shopping.  And budgeting.  And learning how to cook.

Oh and our roommate/friend/brother wasn't exempt from our medical ventures as his lung randomly collapsed last fall as well.  He spent a good five days in the hospital recovering and earned the award for most dramatic ailment of the family.  Absurd right?

In February after these hurdles, we headed to Hawaii to restart and breathe. I realized almost immediately that I had put way too much stock into this trip.  I had seen it as a way to just...begin again. Start fresh. Sadly, there is nothing fresh about five people with the stomach flu in a one bedroom condo. Yes.  We all got the stomach flu.  And we kept it.  We fought it the majority of our trip and when all was said and done, we had 2 amazing days at the beach out of 10 days in Hawaii.  This is when I started getting angry.  And so...

And so that's actually not true.  That's just not true.  I was angry before we left.
Because these are just the hiccups we look back on and now simply laugh about.  Because these trials are so incredibly absurd... but they just happen.  You want someone to blame.  You want to put your finger on what in the heck we have done wrong...but there isn't anything.  So you laugh.  A maniacal kind of laugh maybe. But a laugh nonetheless.  Eventually.

I was already angry though because there are some spaces where laughter has no place.  The kind of spaces in your heart that steal your sleep and consume your moments of quiet.  The spaces that force you to fight what you know you know in an effort to just have peace.  For a moment.  There are spaces that are so precious to you that when evil has darkened even a corner of that space, there is no peace found inside. What is left, I'm embarrassed to say, is anger.  And so...

And so I was already angry.  I was angry as I grasped the details of a tragedy that shouldn't have been.  It shouldn't have been.  Angry and desperate as I watched the fall-out... so warped and sick that I've often pictured the glory some twisted author could make for themselves with this unimaginable and yet very real story.

I was angry to watch people feel betrayed in their hope and turn away from each other.  Angry to watch heartache from the edge of the woods in the lives of people I love... and to feel alone in that.  To feel hopeless in that.  To feel pitifully hopeless while claiming a Hope and Power that I still believe regardless. Angry at those who delight in the demise of love and life... for their own gain.  And to see them succeed.  To see them succeed!  And so...

And so I now know that my silence is not just because I have three kids now, an admittedly larger portion than I imagined.  But because joy in my immediate circumstances has been shadowed by a struggle of real, uncomfortable anger and despair in my surroundings.  The two have left me at a loss for how to write joyfully...with integrity.  Without betraying the honest pain and disappointment that hasn't yet, and likely never will be reconciled.  A pain that I'm embarrassed to admit, has overwhelmed me and stolen some of my joy at times. Stolen my attention.  Stolen my peace.  And yes that's embarrassing to me.  And so...

And so I begin again.  Without knowing where to begin.  Without knowing how.  I need to.

Maybe newer.  Maybe fuller.  Wiser still feels like a stretch.

These Days...

These days my mind swims with what I need to do, what I should be doing, what I must not forget to do, and what I have already forgotten to do.

If I'm not careful, I'm going to miss what they are doing.

These days Sam chuckles to himself but won't share what he's thinking.

These days Ben crawls into my chair at lunch just to be closer to me.

These days Maria litters the house with everything she can pull out of the bottom cupboards.

These days Ben literally bounces and points at himself with excitement when we pick Sam up from school as if to say, "Look Sam!  I'm here! You get to play with me again!"

These days Sam uses, "And by the way..."to start thoughts that should probably begin with "Hey guess what!"

These days Maria loves to wrestle, fall, giggle and squeal on our bed.

These days Ben asks for tea every morning.  But he only drinks 2 sips of it.

These days Sam ask questions about pain and suffering in the world that break my heart.

These days Maria bangs on the cupboard to say that she wants raisins.

These days Sam reads more than he eats.

These days Legos are my best friend.  And of course theirs too... I guess.

These days Ben asks Jonathan to take his shirt off and box with him.

These days Maria hears music, stops whatever she is doing, bounces and sways.

These days Sam remembers the score of any football game he's ever known about.  Not an exaggeration.

These days Maria is learning to kiss with a closed mouth rather than open.  "Mmmah!"

These days Ben finds it odd when a Christmas song doesn't mention Jesus.

These days Sam likes to hold his straw in the place that a tooth once held residence to drink his chocolate milk.  

These days Maria tips her head down, looks up at me through a furrowed brow, head-butts me and then throws her head back to laugh.

These days Sam and Ben sing different renditions of "Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg" over and over until I am begging them to find a different song to butcher.

These days Sam won't share about his day at school until after he's had a snack.

These days Ben almost breaks my nose at least once every day.

These days Ben still says "finded", "bringed", "writed", "drawed" and "runned".

These days Sam helps grown-ups choose their teams for the upcoming bowl games.

These days Maria needs to be held while I make dinner.

These days Sam and Ben are sent upstairs to rough house.

These days Maria's thin blonde hair is curly when she gets out of the tub.

These days Sam wants to know if he can get baptized with out being dunked under water.

These days the only time Ben asks for help is when he is at the end of himself and close to tears.

These days Maria climbs everything.

These days both boys hug me as long as they can at bedtime.

These days are good...

School Lunch and Beyond

It was comedy really.  One of those things that you are able to laugh about moments later but in the actual moment you are just thankful a friend was there to witness it so that you didn't have to mouth the words "What the (fill in the blank)?!!" to your innocent children.

Sam is what we call behind his back "not an eater".  To call him 'picky' would be a gross understatement.  We don't know where he came from.  But he is ours and this is something we have to cleverly navigate, pick and choose battles around and sometimes just plain trick him.  For the most part, we are constantly encouraging him to try new things, eat just a tiny bit more, and for the sake of the rest of us who love food...to not speak negatively about it.  Nonetheless, it's hard.  He has a smattering of foods that he definitely likes and wants to eat.  He has another small group of foods that he will tolerate but refuses to admit "liking". There is an equally small group of food that he will eat bite-by-miserable-bite when he knows he has to all the while looking as if he is going to toss it up any second.  And then the rest is absolutely non-negotiable.  There is no way he can be motivated to touch it.

With this comes other obstacles of course!  Sam would rather just eat at home vs. most restaraunts because he knows how I am going to make the food and he doesn't know how it will be made elsewhere.  Eating with friends is a joke.  Well meaning adults who have no experience with this kind of "picky" can be exhausting.  And of course my own fears that some day this country will face an economy my grandparents recall where "peanut butter and honey sandwiches" will be too expensive to make and Sam will just die.  Just. Die. People!  Of starvation!  Because he's THAT stubborn! 
  
Well anyway, Sam started FIRST GRADE this September at our neighborhood public school.  Last year he attended Kindergarten at the very small private school he had also attended for two years of preschool.  So this is all very new to us!  Full days, big classroom, one teacher and... LUNCH at school! 

I have been sending him to school with lunches that he would typically eat,  knowing full well that he will come home with most of it still in his Spiderman lunchbox and that he'll be very hungry upon return.  I'm not completely naive.  I have set my expectations low.  So it was very exciting for me to see him looking over the school lunch calendar one day very carefully and saying to me, "I think I'd like to try this sometime."  I masked my excitement (of course) and let him know that he could choose one lunch a week to buy.  He started studying the calendar and making comments about the choices. 

One Monday morning he decided that he was going to buy lunch that day.  It was grilled cheese sandwiches.  This was surprising to me because grilled cheese sandwiches are usually in the "I'll eat this but I don't like it" category.  Regardless, he was excited.  Very excited.  So I was over the moon!

As we approached Sam's school we joined up with good friends to cross the cross-walk.  I said to my friend Kari (who is totally in the know of Sam's...nutritional preferences), "Sam is so excited to try school lunch today!  He can't wait to have the grilled cheese sandwich!" To which the adult crossing guard replied, "Oh they actually aren't very good.  I think they are way over cooked."

This is the moment I'm talking about.  The moment you realize that grown men and women can completely sabotage some of the grueling work you are doing at home with your kids!  And they get paid for it!!!

Sam of course didn't  miss a beat and asked, "What isn't very good?  What is over-cooked?"
I had to reply, "Oh you know that rule we have that you can't say bad things about food? Well she isn't following our rule. And I'm not her mom so I can't do anything about it."
That's when I turned to Kari and mouthed my all too often chosen expletive because I was in absolute shock.  Kari of course affirmed my shock with the same shock and we walked the rest of the way to the classroom line-ups with our mouths open, eyes crazy and our heads shaking in disbelief.

Needless to say, he did not choose the grilled cheese when he got to lunch.  He plopped a pile of plain spaghetti noodles,one required baby carrot and a chocolate milk on his tray.  Which... come to find out is the reason he wants school lunch once a week.  Chocolate milk.  Figures.  

Eleven Years

...dance parties with our boys after dinner. 
...the overnight hike when we both thought we just might die up there. 
...our first moments with all three of our sweet babies. 
...the day you brought Ginger home to me. 
...all of the swear words uttered as we remodeled two houses. 
...the two hours in Chicago that I thought you had been mugged and killed.
...all of the nights you have comforted me after nightmares. 
...Paris. 
...the day you threw the bifold closet doors out the front door onto the lawn and swore you'd never install them again. 
...the night of 9/11. 
...that dinner at The Brooklyn.
...the trip to the ER with Ben when he was four months old. 
...weeks at Young Life camps with kids we loved together. 
...our 600 square foot house on Finn Hill.
...the weekends spent with our nieces and nephews before we had our own babies. 
...the road trip to California and up the coast.
...the hike when you realized for the first time JUST HOW terrified I am of snakes.
...the unexpected day spent in San Francisco. 
...the facial that sent you into a full blown panic attack.
...all of the nights that we've hosted parties at our house while we've hidden away in the nursery...loving on our babies...perfectly content to miss out on the fun. 
...the day we spent $700 to save Gus's life. 
...the way you told our parents that we were pregnant with Sam. 
...that awful night in London. 
...countless nights of being up together with sick kids.
...the day we sobbed our goodbyes to Ginger on the floor of the vet's office together.
...everytime we try not to laugh at something the boys are doing. 
...our sweet baby bubbles that have surrounded us after the births of all three. 
...the THREE MONTHS living in Northern Ireland.
...the day you asked my dad to go to Men's Weekend at Malibu. 
...my first Mother's Day. 
...all of the wrestling matches you have with the boys. 
...the fight we had over spray butter. 
...the gazillion times we've watched A Few Good Men. 
...Howth, Ireland.
...the Christmas Eve that we laid in bed and watched The Ya-Ya Sisterhood. 
...the look on your face when we pulled four-month-old Sam out of the car only to realize he hadn't been buckled in his carseat. 
...the late night we realized that hot water had been spewing out from a broken pipe under our house for over a week.
...the celebratory "WHOOOOOO HOOOOOO" you shouted out the front door the night our first African American president was elected. 
...the family meeting we had to tell the boys they were going to be big brothers. 
...our adorable flat in Belfast. 

...the way you love the boys.
...the way you love Maria.
...the way you love me.

Eleven years Babe.  Thank you.

Deep Thoughts by Ben

Ben is three-and-a-half going on six.  Our "middle child".  Our sweet preschooler who owns most of the same expectations as his kindergarten brother, but hardly ever gets (or takes) the credit for being as mature, responsible, self-sufficient, flexible and down right cool as he is.  It's so easy to forget how young he is because he rallies with the big boys so successfully.
This is the boy who about a week before he turned two, told me in his deep, frosty, no-nonsense voice, "I don't wear diapers anymore."  And he never did again.  And he never had an accident.  And he'd lie straight to your face if he actually did because he's way too cool to pee in his pants like a darn baby. 
Anyway, I love moments when I hear his own thoughts come out (usually without any context that we are aware of) and I can see and hear him for the little boy that he is.

Most of these quotes come from the backseat of our van when it has gotten all too quiet:

 

Mom! Chickens are wild aminals.  Mom! Bad guys catch good guys but police officers catch bad guys.  Mom! Did you hear me burp?  "No." Then I don't have to say 'Excuse me.'   Mom! Dolphins are blue and white.  Mom! Some boys have long hair.  Mom! Football players have moms too.  Mom! Every girl has a purse.  Mom! Maria can't eat donuts.  Mom! I'll get everyone who is bad sick.  Mom do basketball players ever wear their basketball shoes at the table?  Mom! Do you know why monster trucks say 'trucks' at the end?  Cause they're a kind of truck.  I won't lick babies.  Hey Dad!  You can't ride a turtle.   Mom! Every girl is a wife.    Mom! Dad is your father.  Mom! Rocks don't float on water.  They sink.  Mom! Who nursed Grampa Mark when he was a baby?  Mom! Moose's antlers are part of their bodies.  Mom!  How old will I be when I'm a dad?  Mom! Maybe Leprechans will come here... They're so fast. 

"I am a champion all by myself."

Benjamin 

Boys Meet Girl

A couple of weeks ago I had to break some "bad" news to Sam and Ben.  They were light heartedly arguing over which one of them was going to marry Maria when they grow up.  Maria is their three-month-old sister.  Some day this will be repulsive to them.  However for now, its a horrible injustice that marrying your sister is illegal. 
"It's ILLEGAL?!!" they both say to me in unison with gigantic eyes and expressions of total shock and disgust with our legal system. 
"Yes," I say matter of factly. 
"Well we'll just lie about it then!" Sam yells through laughter as he runs out of the room.
"Yeah!  We'll LIE!" Ben squeals as he follows Sam to whatever they do while I'm tied up changing another diaper.

Let's just say...they love her.  A lot. 

We knew they were going to love her.  We even knew that their love for her would look different between the two of them.  And it really does. 

When Ben was a baby I remember Sam holding him and saying to me, "I love him so much I want to laugh my head off."  I totally identified with that crazy kind of love.  That's how Ben loves Maria right now.  He has such an intense nervous energy around her that sometimes she actually flinches a little when she knows he's coming.  He gets up close to her and says "Maria I LOVE you!" "Maria you're GOOD!" "Maria I'm your big BRUDDER!" in such a sweet... and somewhat maniacal way.  His kisses leave a slimy wet mess on her head and sometimes I think they just might bruise her.  He talks to her as if she actually understands what he's saying.  "Maria watch this... Did you see that Maria?"  Ben's love for her is obvious.  But it's also very obvious that he can't wait for her to grow older and be big enough to play.  I can't wait to watch that! 

Sam is another story.  I have a prediction that Maria will do no wrong in his eyes for the rest of their lives.  Here's an example of how that plays out right now:
If you know Sam, you know that he HATES messes.  He needs a wash cloth at the table while he eats so that his hands and mouth are never messy.  He actually buzzes around the house to clean up toys that are left out so that there isn't anything in his way to play something else.  Kitchen cabinet doors left open drive him crazy.  BUT...  Maria puked on him this morning and he laughed about it.  Really.  Ben (my Tazmanian Devil) is sent into hysterics over spit up landing on him but Sam (my perfectionist) actually thought it was endearing. 
His linear, scheduled world will screech to a halt for a chance to hold and snuggle her.  When we drop him off at Kindergarten he makes sure to kiss her goodbye.  When we pick him up, he returns straight to her.  He definitely gets the most smiles and it's clear that she trusts him.  There is a sweetness about his love for her and pride in her that I could not have imagined or expected.  And that melts me. 

Let's be real here though.  There are absolutely times where I have to tell them both to back the heck off.  As gentle and sweet as they are, sometimes it's just too much.  This poor girl is never going to know the meaning of "personal space".  I myself am fighting for those two precious words daily.  Especially when I'm nursing Maria.  The boys see nothing private or sacred about my space in these moments.  Why should they?  It happens every 2-3 hours, all day, every day where ever we are.  It's such a normal fact of life to them and I'm so thankful for that.  But it's hardly the time that I want them climbing all over me to get down close and smooch her on the cheeks.  That's my no-fly-zone thank you very much.  
At times their desire to be close to her and snuggle her becomes all too selfish and I need to drop the hammer.  Fights break out over who gets to be closer to her, who gets to hold her, who held her last, longer or better.  She is often reduced to the likeness of a puppy. 

Life and love in this house are far from perfect but all things considered, we are thrilled with how well Sam and Ben have received Maria into their lives!

Although I've shared with the boys that it's illegal to marry their sister, the subject hasn't altogether gone away.  Yesterday they declared that when they grow up they will have a lightsaber battle to decide which one of them gets to marry her.  I tried not to shoot down the idea entirely and suggested that they have a battle with whomever wants to marry her someday.  I was clear that this guy will have to battle both of them and Jonathan.  I truly think that the idea of them one day letting another male into our family to love Maria was too much for them to handle and the conversation just ended.

I am absolutely going to bring lightsabers to the rehearsal dinner of her wedding some day.

Scattered

Oh it feels good to kiss her ears.  That diaper pail stinks.  Will his cough ever go away?  She is such a beautiful baby.  When did I feed her last?  I'm hungry.  Did I lock the front door?  I love how well they play together.  Didn't I open a Diet Coke?  Just fall asleep child.  How long has it been since I clipped his toe-nails?  Oh my gosh his ears are so dirty!  Do we still have a cat?  Yes...we do.  Does Ben seem lost?  I need to snuggle him more.  My windows are so dirty I want to throw a brick through them.  She's awake again.  Oh shoot I haven't written that Thank You note.  Or sent that check.  That's... puke in my hair.  I need to call my sister.  I'm a bad sister.  Did I put nursing pads in before I left?  Her eyes sparkle.  Geeze he feels heavy today!  I need to wipe his face.  Oooh when I sit this way I can feel my jelly roll.  Don't sit that way Beck.  Have they watched any t.v. yet today?  Those hiccups sound like they hurt.  Sam is so darn sweet with her.  How can buns so little pack such a punch??  When did I nurse her last?  What is so sticky on the floor?  Why can't they just get along?!  I'm hungry.  I need to eat something.  Shoot!  I never got back to her.  I'm a bad friend.  I wish I could take a nap.  Do they know how much I love them?I think this is one of those things that causes cancer.  I'll fold that laundry tonight after they go to bed.  Jonathan will help.  Why is he so sassy lately?  I'm not reading to the boys enough.  Sam's birthday is coming up and I'm not ready.  Six more hours until J gets home.  Wow, I just totally overreacted.  How old am I?  Please God make her sleep longer than 10 minutes.  I think I've worn these pants every day this week.  I'm going to bed at eight tonight no matter what.  I need to remember to empty that diaper pail. I think my thighs might be rubbing together.  I'm going to excercise somehow tomorrow.  These poor boys have seen more boob than Hugh Hefner on his best day.  There's my coffee cup!  She's been sleeping a long time.  I need to check if she's breathing.  Ben is so cute when he skips.  Like a little Leprechan.  Three more hours til J gets home.  What in the heck is so sticky on the floor??!  Hopefully the boys never ask where that went.  I'll lie.  Oh great, now his cough is back.  She must be hungry.  I wonder what he's thinking right now.  What day is it?  Her smile is amazing.  I think she's prettier today than yesterday.  Please don't puke.  Please don't puke.  Please don't puke.  Really??!!!  Oh isn't that nice?  The neighbor's cleaning lady just showed up.  What I wouldn't do...  Where did he hear THAT word?  I'm so tired.  When did I talk to my dad last?  I'm a bad daughter.  Did I really just tell Ben that he needs to grow up?  Good Lord I'm starving!  You'd never know I just swept this morning.  Does he have show and tell tomorrow?  That kid is smarter than me.  Oh my gosh that smells bad!  Did I brush my teeth this morning?  I hope Jonathan's day is going well.  I should have followed through on that one.  A Butterfinger sounds good.  I wonder if I'm going to need to buy a different swim suit this summer.  I should try mine on.  No.  I'm not going to do that.  Oh her yawn is so precious.  What am I going to do for dinner?  Oh my gosh I've got to mop this floor.  He's going to no-nap me today isn't he?  What was that sound?  I hope everything is alright up there.  Nobody's crying.  I need to sit up straighter.  Good thing Jonathan is so patient.  I hope they love her this much for the rest of her life.  Is she going to have brown or blue eyes?  Crap.  Ben's crying.  His voice is so cute.  If one more person asks how I'm sleeping...  Pretty sure he just coughed into the back of my throat.  One more hour til Jonathan comes home.  That bread is really dry no wonder they didn't eat their sandwiches.  Did we pay the preschool?  Her sneeze is adorable.  I hope our neighbors didn't just see that.  Poor them.  I have GOT to eat something before I hurt someone!  I still haven't made that dentist appointment.  I wonder if he's ready for me to wipe him yet.  We need to go on a date.  That doesn't look right.    I think that's the most annoying sound I've ever heard.  Oh yeah, dinner.  Shoot. 

The Waiting

I am in such a reflective state these days as we count down to the arrival of our daughter.  We have less than six weeks until our due date.  Six weeks!  It's all I can do to reign my heart in at times right now.  And my heart is all over the place.  Just listen.

I'm so excited I can't sleep.  I lie awake dreaming of who this girl will be, how much we are going to love her, and of course how much I have left to do before she arrives.  As I go through the clothing that has been passed down to us for her, I cannot believe we will have a beautiful little girl running around our house wearing them!  As I organize her room I lose my breath as I picture her swaddled and sleeping in her crib.  As the boys talk about their sister I am in awe of how much they already seem to love her and how many plans they already have for her life.  I am so ready to know and hold and nurse and kiss her it's driving me crazy!

At the same time, I find myself staring at Sam and Ben as they talk or play or think or sleep and I realize that I'm trying desperately to freeze who they are right now in my mind. I know that in the months ahead, when life changes dramatically... they will also change.  I remember it happening to Sam when Ben was born.  I'm not referring to the transition that all older siblings go through as they learn to share their parents.  I'm remembering how all of a sudden, Sam grew up a little bit faster.  His personality grew older and he just...changed a little bit.  This time, Sam will grow quickly in front of me as he takes on the role of oldest brother. Ben will go through the transition from "our baby" to a big brother.  Their relationship as brothers will evolve and grow as well.  And I know all of these things are completely natural and totally positive.  I know that.  But still.  The life that I love and treasure so much right now...will change.  That part breaks my heart a little.  I'm so very excited and yet a bit melancholy at the same time about all of this.  Do I make sense?

Really what I think about the most is life with my best friend, two of the coolest boys ever and their little sister.  I just feel so rich.  I feel rich in love with Jonathan.  Rich in love with my babies.  Rich in expectation.  Rich in faith in the One who sees my days before I do and promises to hold me through them.  I am rich and today I know that. 

Now the thoughts that probably won't makes sense to anyone are the ones that show how insane I can become about my role as a mom. 

I will now be a mother of three.  I only have two hands.  How can I hold all three of their hands as we cross the street?

How in the heck will I get groceries and errands done once I can't wear the baby?  Especially Target.  Oh Target I love you and I hate you. 

Our sweet neighbor girl came over the other night after her first dance.  She's twelve.  Will our daughter go to a dance when she's twelve???  I just don't think I'm ready for that. 

What if she doesn't marry someone as amazing as her dad?  How will I ever love that guy the way I should as his mother-in-law?

And finally...I'm almost positive I've worked out the best way to get two of my children out of our van if for some reason... we are on the 520-Bridge when THE BIG ONE hits and we all go over into the water.  But three?????

My mind just won't quit. 

Defeated

They laughed at me. Both of them. Laughing.

I'm already completely exhausted by our family trip to Home Depot.  That experience in itself should have been my cue to hand the boys over to Jonathan for the rest of the night.  But no. 

I start the tub for the boys and then go to finish the dinner dishes we had left. After hearing evil laughter and a comment about the "toilet tub" I head into the bathroom to see the boys sitting in the tub with guilty little grins on their faces.
It takes no time to figure out that they stood side by side, outside of the tub, TWO FEET FROM THE TOILET and peed into the tub while it was filling up!  Did I mention they were two feet from the toilet?

If they weren't absolutely filthy from the day and in desperate need of bathing, the appropriate consequence would have been to take bath time away for the night.  (Don't worry.  Jonathan let me know that that's what HE would have done after all of this was over.)  Instead I drain the tub with them in it, refill it and take away pre-bed book time... as if all of this nonsense is digging into our bedtime routine and something has to go.  Natural consequences?  Well...it was logical to me in the moment.

Bath time is filled with more clowning and when the splashing becomes entirely too much I get them out and say very clearly, "Do not leave the bathroom.  We are brushing teeth and heading straight upstairs for bed."

This is Ben's cue to bolt out the door cackling and squealing.  He clearly isn't sensing how close I am to sending both of them up the Omo River in Ethiopia today.
Sam stays put but roars with laughter at his brave little brother, which of course just feeds Ben's budding ego.

Now...I don't spank often. I hardly ever have to. Really.  But this deliberate disobedience combined with my total lack of anything redeeming left in my bag of tricks is just the last straw for the day.

I say in my firmest voice, "Ben you are getting a spank for disobeying,"
Of course Ben pleads, "Nooo!"
But as I put his bare, little, tan body on my lap and give his adorable white buns a whack... he laughs.
He laughs!!!

THEN! THEN!  From the bathroom Sam yells while cracking up, "Did she just SPANK you Ben?"
Ben bursts back into laughter and calls back "YAH!  She SPANKED ME!" 
They both continue laughing as I sit on the couch in disbelief and a little bit of horror. 

This is the beginning of the end isn't it?  I am going to be their joke.  For the rest of their lives.

I march up the stairs with the boys, finish the routine (sans book) and let them know that I'm not coming back up no matter what.  I come down in somewhat of a stupor and look out the front window to see Jonathan happily chatting it up with three of our neighbors across the street.  They all wave at me and smile.  I gather myself and head out to let them know what the last hour just looked like.

They laugh.  At me. 

Oh Benjamin

Ben you turned three today.  

I can hardly believe it. 

I believe that you are three. 

I just have a hard time believing that you are MY three year old. 

That God gave you to ME. 

Because I'm in awe of you Ben.

I'm in awe of your spirit.  

I'm in awe of your heart. 

I'm in awe of how darn cute you are. 



And sweet!

Ben I pray that I bless you in your life as much as you bless me in mine. 

Because you BLESS ME!  Oh how you bless me.

Where is the Line?

(Caution!  Bathroom Talk to Follow!) 

I'm struggling.
We've entered the stage of "How inappropriate can I be without getting a consequence?"
I know that I'm on the stricter side than some but I really try to choose my battles wisely. Language is an important part of who we are. It says a lot about us. It can reveal one's level of respect, responsibility and wisdom as well as the amount of compassion, empathy, and love one has for others. I want our boys to communicate and play in a way that is respectful and loving to anyone who might witness it.
That being said, they aren't puppets or robots. I know this full well. I can try as intentionally as possible to teach to their hearts and "train" their behavior. But let's be real...

So we have three strains of "inappropriate" dominating our household these days:

Potty Talk.  Body Talk.  Violent Talk.

If you know me at all, you know that I'm most averse to the latter of the three. Truthfully, I get a kick out of Potty talk myself. Who doesn't appreciate a good joke about poop or letting one rip? Okay well I do.  But as we all know there is a time and a place.
Body talk is important and a part of our every day lives.  We take this one very seriously and encourage it in context.  But again, context! 
Violent talk on the other hand has no place in my heart or home. We all poop. We all have private parts.  We don't all shoot and kill people. So no. I can't find a way to justify jokes about cutting your brother's arm off, beating him all the way to jail or setting his eyeball on fire.  Roll your eyes at me. But its my house.

Here are the latest little jokes the boys love:
Ben will walk up to one of us at any given moment, point his hip up toward us and say in his deep, loud, gravelly voice, "TOOOOT!!".  I can't help it.  I fall apart.  It's not funny because he's pretending to toot on us. It's funny because of the way he lifts his hip. The way he says it with his adorable lips puckered out like a bugle. The way that he and Sam bust apart laughing immediately after.  And that he came up with this act totally on his own!  I think the best part of this little stunt is that he often does it when he feels the mood needs a bit of lightening.  He is already such a middle child.

They both love the word 'booby' right now. They thought they made it up themselves so they didn't know that it actually already has a meaning. Sam kept calling Ben things like, "squishy booby underpants" and "booby tooter". So when asked what their new word means they informed us that it means 'stinky'. Awesome. So that's a new favorite word in our house. Along w/ penis, buns, toots, barf and poop. Booby.  The other day when Sam told me he was going to "poop his boob out" I just about gagged on my tooth brush.  It was then that I had to share that the word actually has another meaning.  As respectfully as I could I shared how the word "booby" is used.  They looked at me like I had ruined all of their fun.  The actual meaning was a total bore.  Fine.

They love the word "fart" but are only allowed to use it in their room together.  So we regularly hear them blurting out all of the "bad words" they can say alone together in their room and then laughing hysterically.  Most of the time they use these words in such ridiculous and nonsensical ways.  But oh it's fun right?!

Here's a disturbing one...the other day after the boys got out of the tub one of them accidentally slapped their own private part w/ his own hand. Well...there began the giggles and nonsensical talk (talk only) about spanking each others penises.  They are so fascinated by their own anatomy and how hilarious it is.  Today Sam was having a conversation with his...

You see where these things start to get out of hand now right? There is good harmless fun and then there's stuff that we just have to put an end to before I get called into Sam's kindergarten class next year with big questions about what in the world goes on in our home!  Or worse yet, BEN'S PRESCHOOL CLASS! 

Drawing the line and then explaining to them why that crosses the line is sometimes blurry. 

We approach most of these issues with a general rule that we can have potty and body talk at home in the privacy of our family but not around others and not in public. We want them to know that we can talk about anything as a family but not everything is appropriate to laugh about or share with others.

With the coming of a new baby, there have been great questions.  Mainly about how their sister is going to... exit me.  It's great!  We get to teach our kids about life in the context of family and health.  We get to share with them the true, natural, God designed uses for our bodies and functions. 

But still. Some of the things these clowns are coming up with in humor is not even going to fly in private.  They just snowball from Ridiculous Land into Unquestionably Inappropriate and Downright Disturbing Land.  They expect a consequence or "the look" from me when their language turns bloody and painful.  However, when they are just being silly about bowel movements or their anatomy and it has gone too far in my eyes, it's harder for them to understand where they crossed the line.  Answering why one thing is funny and another has gone too far gets complicated. 

So they walk the line.  My line.  They say their joke with a giggle, watch me carefully and then proceed to go further with caution.  It's confusing.  Mostly for me.  I look at Jonathan and he so often just shrugs like it's... normal.  "Really?!" I ask.  Bizarre.  Other times there's no denying just how far over the line they are and we have to go all "parent" on them. 

Now that there is a sister coming....a whole new can of worms is about to open up! One that I welcome but will need to navigate intentionally and thoughtfully out of respect for her and every woman they encounter in the future.  I need to start praying for their wives more diligently.  God help them. 

We Found Out!

It's probably the second question everyone asks when they realize that you are pregnant.  After asking "When are you due?" they ask "Are you finding out?" 
My first two pregnancies I have endured the eye-rolling, gasping and complaining over our decision NOT to find out.  I actually even had a close family member tell me that it's "just not as exciting NOT to know".  Wow.  Ouch.  Sorry to ruin this for you. 
We never regretted not finding out with our boys.  Those moments in the delivery room when we discovered that we had sons were absolutely MAGICAL.  We truly met them for the first time in those first minutes.  Not having wrapped our heads around who they might be until that first, precious moment.  Magical.

This time....we did it different. 

Our dear friend Linda was our ultrasound technician with both Sam and Ben.  She so gracefully held the secret of our babies' sex for us and we just loved having her in that experience with us.  She has since retired but we wanted so badly to share this moment with her again and she had expressed that if we were going to find out this time she'd love to come in and do the grand reveal for us!  So of course we asked her. 

All four of us walked in today with the expectation of another Judy boy.  There really is no other way in any of our minds.  In fact this morning as I was preparing the boys for what the appointment would look like and what things Linda would be looking for they both started chanting, "Penis! Penis! Penis!"  Welcome to my life.  Anyway, almost everyone else has predicted girl.  So we kind of planned on proving everyone wrong today. 

It didn't work out that way. 

Jonathan and I were both shocked.  In all honesty we kept thinking that as the exam went on...there would be a penis.  But no.  No penis for this Judy baby. 

The boys?  Sam's first words when Linda said, "You're going to have a sister!" were..."This is horrible news."  Not a joke.  He was spitting angry.  We burst out laughing and then of course he was angry that we were laughing at him.  Ben came around a lot quicker and promised to teach her how to hold a baseball bat.  That's my little peace maker there.  

Most importantly, everything looked perfect.  Her heart, her spine, her kidneys, her limbs...everything.  We are so thankful. 

As the shock has worn off for Jonathan and me...we are very excited.  It hasn't taken long tonight for the boys either.  Sam admitted that he was more disappointed that he was wrong than that he is going to have a sister.  The kid is honest.

So now I get to purge some baby boy clothes and prepare for a daughter!  That still sounds really foreign!

"Girls are Bleh!"

Last month a story came out about a couple who refuses to share the gender of their 4-month-old baby with anyone.  That's right.  Even the grandparents don't know if they have a granddaughter or grandson.  The child's name is ambiguous (Storm) as well as their first two children's names and they have chosen to let the child decide for itself what gender it is.  They are leaving everyone in the dark with the hopes that their child will be spared the messages that place him or her into gender specific boxes.  They said "parents make so many choices for their children.  It's obnoxious."  http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_thelookout/20110524/ts_yblog_thelookout/parents-keep-childs-gender-under-wraps
I love stories that make me laugh out loud.  The idea that I am making the choice for my boys to actually be and act like boys is totally hilarious to me.

Earlier this week our morning devotional was about God providing everything that we need.  To expand on the topic I asked the boys what we have and enjoy that we don't particularly need. 
Here is the conversation that followed:
Sam:  "Toys."
Me:  "Yep, we don't need toys but we still have them and get to enjoy them.  What else do we have that we don't really need?" 
Sam w/ a silly little grin:  "Penises."
Me:  "Hmm...I'm pretty sure you need your penis Sam."
Sam:  "But you don't need one."
Me:  "Yeah, but I have what I do need.  I just don't have a penis."
Sam in a neener-neener voice: "Yeah, boys have more than girls!"
And...there ends our time of reflection.

Whenever possible, they choose to pee outside.

This is every day.  I don't know where it came from, but the boys have decided that all things "girl" are lame, dumb, ridiculous and shameful.  They are even adamant that the baby growing inside of me is a boy.  The root of this insistence?  Sam practically spat out at me, "We do NOT want girl toys in this house!  Especially a DOLL HOUSE!  I do NOT want one of those here!"  Of course Ben follows everything that Sam says up with agreement, "Yeah, no doll house!"

They hate pink, anything with pink on it, any character in a book or on a program that wears pink.  If you want immediate dismissal, tell them you like pink.  You'll be out and probably laughed at. 
They call each other "princesses" as an insult (although...I get that one.)
Ben saw Dora the other day in Target and said, "OH Dora!  I don't like Dora!  She's a girl!" 
Sam constantly calls things "girly" as a put down.
He has also successfully taught his sweet, innocent, mother-lovin' brother to respond, "Girls are bleh!" whenever the topic comes up. 

Here's the thing... they don't dislike girls.  Their two closest friends are girls of course.  But they have been clear to me that they would prefer to have those friends come to our house so that they don't have to play with "their girl stuff".  Of course once we are actually in their house, those girls own them and they'll do whatever they tell them to do.

Here's another thing... I am confident that this new phase has not come from Jonathan and me.  In fact we have challenged it thoughtfully with questions and reminders of truth.  Jonathan and I share responsibilities pretty evenly in our home.  I'd say more evenly than a lot of people we know.  And we speak highly of each other to our boys.  There are never put downs or generalizations made of each other.  Ever.   Regardless of our efforts to communicate true, healthy, balanced messages about men and women in our world, my boys are "typical boys".  Yep, they fit right into the boy box the parents previously mentioned are dreading for their child. 

Last summer.

We named them Samuel and Benjamin.  Strong, male names.  We told people they were born with penises right away.  I didn't dress them in yellow every day.  You could say that I "chose their gender for them".  But I also learned about trains, trucks, and football because that's what they are interested in. Not because I wanted them to be.  I didn't even know who Thomas was before Sam practically had seizures over him in a book.  We got Sam a baby doll when we were expecting Ben and he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it no matter how hard I tried to make him love it. 

Now what this doesn't mean is that they are insensitive, violent, aggressive little tyrants running around without feelings or compassion.  Although my boys have no use for a baby doll, if there is a real baby in the room, grab your camera.  They melt.  They kiss and love and talk sweet just as they should.  For example, their newest cousin was born a week ago to their Auntie Nellie and Uncle Aaron.  As you can see, they are in love with "Baby Andrew".


 


 



If there is a toy kitchen in the room, just sit down and let them bring you all of their creations.  They are going to be awesome and inventive cooks just like their Dad.  If they get a bonked head or hurt feelings, let me just get back to you in a bit because they don't "act tough" and I'll be comforting them and kissing on them until we're back to good. 

Despite their recent opinion that anything "girlie" is of-the-devil, I refuse to believe that we have confined them to a strict, role determining system of beliefs about themselves purely because we announced their sex at birth.  I am not thrilled with this current disgust of pink and girls but I'm confident that we'll get through it without neanderthals for sons.  They are who they are because they were born that way and I'm doing my best to learn about what they love so that I can keep up. 

Oh and this just in: Last night at dinner with their two best friends present (both girls), Ben announced that he might like pink now.  See?  It won't be us that influences their opinions.

Ginger

 

I've been trying to write an entry about the sweetest member of our family since I started this little blog in January.  I think I knew time was limited to document what a precious part of our crew she is before "something bad" happened.  Well, it's harder than I thought to describe someone so precious to me without writing an entire book or movie.  Thus, books like Marly and Me by John Grogan or The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein.  How do I describe Ginger and what she means to us with out going back in time and reliving our time-line a bit?

And so the following is probably boring to many.  But it's important for Jonathan and I to put our story into words so that we never forget how much we loved Ginger and how loved we were by her. 

This entry is for us.

Jonathan brought Ginger home to me at the end of our first year of marriage.  She was a gorgeous, happy, well-mannered, four year old Golden Retriever.  The effect on the two of us was immediate.  We were now a family.  Really!  In our 600 square foot house on Finn Hill, she made us complete!  She went everywhere with us.  Hiking, camping, visiting friends and family, BBQs, Home Depot (until they changed their policy)...everywhere.  She was part of us and we loved her like crazy. 

In the nine years following, a lot happened.  We added a cat, moved two times, re-modeled two houses, changed jobs, had two babies, eight roommates and constant gatherings at our house. Ginger was the constant.  She never changed or wavered.  We could count on her sweet golden body to greet us at the door, sidle up to us when she'd see us pull out her leash, get excited when she saw us packing up the car to go somewhere or plop down at our feet when we'd finally crash on the couch at the end of the day.  There were movements of hers that became so predictable.  Through each change, we could count on her to be our faithful girl.  Even through big changes.

I'll never forget bringing Sam home from the hospital when he was born.  She was so excited.  She couldn't stay away from him.  She just kept wagging the whole back end of her body and trying so hard to sniff her new boy in his little carseat.  I said something to her that I'll never forgive myself for.  Just thinking of it today puts such a horrible lump in my throat as tears stream down my cheeks.  I was so annoyed at her eagerness and her being in my way to get him out of the carseat.  "Ginger," I said, "I never thought I'd care so little to see you."  I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth.  But there began the first big change in our family.  Ginger dropped a notch in rank and we suddenly saw her as our dog.  Not our baby. 



Two guards to the stairs from Sam

 Of course, she moved right into the role.  I started calling her 'the other mother in the house'.  If Sam woke up and cried in his crib, she beat me there.  Wagging her tail furiously at his door and looking at me like there was a fire in his room.  She even stopped sleeping in our room for awhile and started sleeping in the hallway between us and Sam.  If a dog walked up to us on a walk, she stopped right between Sam and the dog and stood firm as a soldier.  As Sam learned to crawl and then walk, Ginger was right there making no movement as he pulled handfuls of hair out of her to steady himself.  She was perfect. 

Sam and Ginger watching the world

When Ben came, she was less enamored (which is why sadly, I can't find ONE picture of the two of them together) and just took the transition as gracefully as before.  She knew the drill.  Be good.  Be still when he crawls all over you.  Love on him.  Clean up the food that he drops.  Crash with us at the end of the day. 



Ben



Ginger's true love was the same as ours: Family.  And hiking.  There wasn't a hike that we went on without her.  In the days before the boys, we could count on her to complete the hike three times as she would run along ahead of us, then back to check on us and then ahead again.  Once we had the boys hiking along with us, she stayed pretty close to them.  No fail. 

Really, could we ask for a better dog? 

Four weeks ago, Jonathan and I had to make the worst choice we've ever had in front of us.  Of course, it wasn't really a choice.  Ginger had started coughing up blood and the X-rays told us that her lungs were filled with Cancer.  So, wait until her pain is unbearable?  Or end her pain and thus say goodbye to our sweet girl?  We cried for three days before we finally made the decision.  By then she had stopped eating and was pretty slow moving.  The two of us took her in together.  We sat with her on the ground sobbing as she licked us and loved on us until her very last breath.  I'd love to say that it was very peaceful and comforting.  But it was horrible.  It was absolutely horrible.  Enough said about that.

These past weeks have been...weird.  Each one of us have mistakenly expected Ginger to be at the front door when we walk in, (Ben has actually yelled, "Hi Ging!" more than once) or to hustle over to us when we drop a piece of food on the floor, or to accompany us on a walk or hike. 

A week ago the boys and I were on a trail and a big goofy dog ran up and basically tackled both of them.  They were hysterical.  I was calming them down while telling the dog owner it was fine and to JUST GO so that I could take care of them with out her stupid dog taking them down again.  Why hadn't that ever happened to them before?  There are always dogs on the trails.  As we got back on the trail, Ben said to me,  "If Ginger was here she would say 'BACK OFF!' to that dog."  He's right!  That's why they've never been harassed by a dog before.  She was always there in between them. 

Things are different now...and none of us like it. 

We're moving on and forward without our golden girl.  I don't expect to ever feel the same way about another dog.  We've had our good one.  She was the best and we miss her terribly.  But I will always be so thankful for the nine years we loved and were loved well by such a perfect, beautiful friend.

Goodbye sweet girl.  We love you.