Happy Birthday Old Lady!

Mom is really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really old today!

If you think really hard, you may be able to figure out just how old she is... HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

What's that...

Goodness. I do believe I've got a sunburn.

Going Where Things are Bigger

I'm leaving for San Antonio with Shannon in the morning. We're going to try to get her all set up for their relocation in April.

It's going to be 89 degrees in San Antonio on Sunday according to the Weather Channel. That means I should be wearing shorts. Shorts I no longer fit into since I've piled on 13 pounds over the winter. They say 'Everything's Bigger in Texas,' so hopefully we'll go shopping and I can find some summer clothes that fit?

The 'Ol Poet Brought Back a Memory

About six months after Corey and Carley were born, Children's Mercy Hospital did a remembrance day for all of the families that had lost a child. The highlight of the event was when we all gathered in the courtyard and released butterflies in memory of our babies.

After a prayer, everybody opened up a beautiful paper container and thousands of butterflies took flight simultaneously. The beauty and significance of it was surreal, an image nearly impossible to convey to people who weren't there. My father, however, nailed it in this poem he wrote yesterday. This is the story of what our butterfly, released for Carley, actually did to her surviving twin brother Corey.

The Butterfly
By Old Irish

Your parents opened up the box and sunlight filtered in.
She fluttered to your baby face, this butterfly, your twin.
She kissed you on your tiny lips, and said you'd be O.K.
She stayed with you a little while, before she flew away.
And as she left she hovered,
Gave Mom and Dad a nod.
Then fluttered back to Heaven,
To spend more time with God.

Six Years Ago Today...

Six years ago today, shortly after midnight, I was driving myself to St. John's hospital in Leavenworth, Kansas, scared out of my wits. Not quite 26 weeks along with twins, I knew we were in trouble. By 5:30 AM I had heard Carley's only cry and had gotten my first look at a little boy that I would forever refer to as Trouble.

The doctors said Corey wouldn't make it. Bruised all over his body, a little 1 lb. 9 oz. wimpy white boy with crappy lungs and a grade IV brain bleed, there was no hope. Daddy didn't believe it and demanded just one more ultrasound before we made our final decisions. Thank God for Daddy.

What Corey put up with in the NICU just to prove those doctors wrong. Two months on the high frequency vent, waiting for Mommy to finally get a chance to hold him. Three surgeries, sixteen chest tubes, one crazy moment when Corey pulled his own intubation tube out, feedings by the milliliter, and lots of visitors in and out; it was a busy time for Corey.

Finally, after three months; home on oxygen, nurses and therapists in and out the door. Trips to the clinic, sleep apnea monitors going off all night long, oxygen tubes draped across the ceiling so Corey could play in the living room with his brothers. One time Corey drank 4 oz. in one feeding. It only happened once.

After six months, the monitor and the oxygen were gone and nurses quit coming. Corey grew. He stared at things that spun, he stared at his two little fingers. He giggled at his brothers. He refused to drink milk. He started wearing eye patches. His AFO's came soon after, colorful braces to wear on his legs.

By the age of two he could sit up. He crawled along tile floors, hypnotized by any straight grout line he could find. He was not quite walking if I recall, but just about. He loved toys that lit up. A few months later, he decided that he really could talk. It was sentences from the start. Within a year, he'd learned the alphabet by staring (he REALLY liked staring,) at his wooden ABC blocks. A few months later he was reading and forever asking, "What's that say?"

He hopped on a bus and started school the day after his third birthday. He caught on quickly and was the darling of his elementary school. He learned the Pledge of Allegiance and Calendar in no time flat. He loved reading all of the signs in his school building, pointing them out every time he passed them by. Every time.

A few years later and it's February 19, 2009, and Corey is a BIG boy, sailing through Kindergarten, finally writing out all those words he learned to read so long ago. An ace with the computer and a pain in his brothers' sides. He's still the cute little boy that all the big kids fawn over at school; everybody knows Corey. He's the littlest in his class even though he finally made the charts at the doctors office a month ago. (5th percentile in height. Woo-hoo!)
He's sweet, he's smart, and he will talk your ear off. He's healthy and he's clumsy. His vision and coordination aren't the best, but he'll shrug off a full frontal collision into a wall without batting an eye. (Unless you witness his accident, then he might go for a little snuggle before being distracted by something more important than you.)

And today Corey is SIX. Six, that's BIG BOY age, people. He's the same age as his big brother so that means he's almost an adult. And he gets to go to Kalahari this weekend, because he's SIX. So there! (Think Corey when you read this paragraph...)

So, okay, Trouble, I mean Corey, Mommy hopes you have the happiest Sixth Birthday ever!

And Happy Birthday to Carley, too.

Rough Night

Shannon came home from school with a note for me to sign stating that Shannon was repeatedly told to behave during Calendar time. After multiple warnings Shannon was instructed to flip his green card to yellow. This, in our current public school system, is the second worst thing that can happen to a first grader. The only thing worse than a yellow card is when (insert dom-dom-dom-dom sound effects,) your card goes to RED!

The shame, the humiliation, the hour of tears (some real, some crocodile,) after Shannon came home and confessed. It wore us all out!

Once peace had been restored, the boys were sent to the basement to clean, a task they had been forewarned of over 24 hours ago. Naturally, squabbling ensued. By the third time Corey screamed out in pain from one of Shannon's taunts (it sounded like real pain this time,) I was done. I ran downstairs to see what was the matter and there was Corey doubled over in pain clutching his privates. "It was an accident, an accident, I swear!" Shannon yelled, (for the third time, did I mention?)

Hell hath no fury like a Mom with an injured child who is already one short of a pair in this regard (poor Corey, prematurity was rough on him.) I went off. Corey whimpered in pain from Shannon's kick. Shannon recoiled in shame clutching an aching ear from my screaming. Riley, in complete shock, insisted that I needed to have a visit with a Priest. NOW.

Confession. Eight year-olds can be so insightful.

There is a cow.
The cow is blue.
I eat cows.

My Valentines

It's been a pretty good Valentine's Day! It began at 2:30 AM, when Ken got home from work and dropped seven candy bars in my lap and said, "Happy Valentine's Day!" Sadly, this is my idea of a perfect gift; cheap and fattening. So thoughtful!

We went to bed, only to have the boys wake us up a few hours later at 8:00 AM. They came into our room and told us to get ready for a treasure hunt. Apparently Riley and Shannon were up at 6:00 AM making signs and taping them to our walls (they had to stop when they ran out of tape,) which finally led to a homemade valentine card just for their mommy and daddy. It was so sweet!

Later on in the day, I sat the boys down with some pre-assembled gingerbread houses (sloppily pre-assembled by me,) along with a disgusting amount of valentine candy, and we made some sticky masterpieces. They turned out... well, they turned out. It was a mess but it was worth it.

Grrr....

The weather has just been beautiful! It was in the 50's two days ago, I was lulled to sleep last night by a rain storm, and today it's over 60 degrees and the sun is shining! So why am I in such a miserable funk?

Maybe it's because I know that the high on Thursday will be 32 degrees. Or maybe it's the state of the economy. Or maybe I'm in this funk due to the fact that my husband bought this #$!^&* snowmobile without my knowledge?

It's 60 degrees outside, people!!! This useless machine is taking up space in my garage!!! We live in the suburbs, not the arctic!!! For the life of me, I don't understand this purchase!

Sir Mix-A-Lot is in the House

So Shannon, Corey and I are hanging out in the church hallway outside of Riley's CCD class, and Corey notices his classmate (love interest,) is nearby. He started making funny faces and hopping around trying to show off and get her attention. Corey wasn't getting any, so I guess he thought a song might peak her interest and possibly the interest of the scores of waiting parents.

After wiggling his rear and two little hops, Corey breaks into song yelling, "I LIKE BIG BUTTS..."

I. Was. Mortified. And my husband needs to come up with a different song to sing when I walk into a room looking plump in any way.

(DISCLAIMER: Please don't click on the link if you don't know the song Baby Got Back or if you have any kind of sensitive ears.)

Plugging Ears. I Mean Shutting Eyes.

Shannon and Anna formed a band and last night was their first jam session. Shannon rocked the guitar, Anna rocked the drums, and the Guitar Hero was cranked to full volume. You would think I would remember the song they kept playing because, after all, they just kept playing it. Over and over again.

Anyhow, I asked Shannon what the name of the band was and he excitedly told me, "Shutting Eyes! You know why? 'Cuz we play with our eyes shut!" Ah, it all makes sense to me now...

Cortney, the Marine

We had to run to Ohio this weekend to visit with my niece, Cortney, who just graduated from Marine Boot Camp.

Yummy.
She is so going to kill me...

We're very proud (and a little scared) of Cortney! She's tough and buff and looking really good - you should see her in her dress blues! And she will kill me if she ever sees this, it's what she's been trained to do.

Way to go, Cort!