So, the Friday night after Angel broke his leg, we all headed to Costco (isn't that what everyone does on Friday night?). We hung out looking at books for a while, ate pizza for dinner, got a few groceries and left. Robert unlocked the doors and was acting really weird. He said something to the effect of, "Where are the car-seats?" I was at the backety-back doors about to load up groceries while Angel and Oliver were waiting at the entrance with the Costco wheelchair. I could see from the back that the GPS was not on the windshield as it usually is. Robert has warned me before (and I know this!) not to leave it out when we leave the car, especially at night when it's brightly lit.
Unbelievably, I wandered to the side door and saw that besides the GPS, 2 of our 3 car-seats were gone. Poor Isa had left some of her "treasures" in the cup holder of hers. Nothing else was taken. Not the cds, not the power converter, not the 3rd car-seat identical to 1 of the others.
It is true that Isa's side door (the one I looked into) sometimes does not lock with the automatic locks. So to answer Lucy's question, yes and no. The car doors were locked, except that 1 which has a problem occasionally. Occasionally being that night. EJ, Horatio, nor Isa are old enough nor big enough to be without car seats legally or safety-wise. At least Wal-mart was just down the street, and we had money in our checking account to get new car-seats. We strapped EJ into the last car-seat and drove over there, even though I was tired, in pain, and wanting to just go home.
We got EJ a pink one she chose (she loves pink and girly things just like her sister), but they didn't have a pink booster for Isa. Robert questioned getting a girly one in case the next baby is a boy. I answered petulantly (this is the first I've told him anything might be wrong), "We're not having anymore babies!" He questioned me further about how I knew and I told him I had lower back pain and was bleeding bright red blood already. He tried to hold me and I almost cried right there, but as we hadn't told the kids anything, I was in a lot of pain, and we needed to just get home, I pushed him away a little and said I didn't want to do this here. We had Isa pick out a car-seat she liked, got out of there, strapped in car-seats (EJ was especially excited for hers), and got home. I may have taken a bath that night.
Overall we are blessed. I will miss my GPS, but it was a gift, so we didn't lose any money on it. I don't have money to replace it, so we will have to find our way around the old-fashioned way again. And, even though it wasn't cheap, we did have the money available to replace the old car-seats which were nearing the end of their lifespan anyway. It was just disheartening, especially after Angel broke his leg, I think I'm starting my 2nd miscarriage, and now this.
What kind of a person (even a thief) steals car-seats? And not just any car-seats, but steals 2 from a car that has 3! Don't you people understand that that means that the person driving the car has at least 3 small children? How selfish can you be, to make that family drive their children home unsafely and illegally? What if we had no money for more? I suppose we'd have used a credit card, or driven home anyway. Angel, surprisingly, took it pretty hard. He was very upset that this happened on top of him breaking his leg and all (he was taking it fairly hard anyways).
And now I am worn out from a long week. Yesterday I spent playing Animal crossing and bleeding. My iron has been so low (a normal effect of pregnancy for me) that I've been sleeping in until 11 or 12 daily. Sunday, Yesterday, and today I stayed in bed until after 12. Today I've been blogging it out, and I'll probably go play more video games. I don't need anything. I don't feel like eating anything, and we have plenty of food in the house and money to pay for picking up something if we want to. I CAN do the housework, I'm just not doing it. I wish Robert were here. I don't know what he's thinking and he doesn't know what I'm thinking. But I know it's not over yet. I haven't passed enough for it to be over after almost 12 weeks. So I'm waiting, not going anywhere b/c I don't know exactly when stuff will come out.
Also, I'm ignoring my phone, so leave me a message if you must.
sigh
A travelogue and a place to vent (for me)
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Angel's Tibia
Yep, I typed 
tibia, not fibula. 2 fractures, 1 bone. No displacement though, and no dislocation of any joints. He was "lucky." This is what happens when
you are messing around on the Sabbath and your mother doesn't stop you in time. It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye-- um, breaks a leg.
I wrapped his leg in an ace bandage Sunday night, right after it happened. We laid him down, treated him for shock (Angel goes into shock very easily when he is injured), and I had the sad privilege of feeling his leg to see if it was displaced at all. He was in a LOT of pain. We fed him Ibuprofen, and got him tenderly to bed. His uncle felt really bad, b/c he was playing with the kids, but of course Angel himself made the statement that same night that it was NOT his fault.
Monday morning, Angel was in a lot of pain again, so I called the pediatrician's office as soon as I could, packed everyone up and headed there. Halfway there, I had to turn back (since I don't have pockets on Sundays, I put my wallet in my church backpack, not the sifty backpack) and pick up my wallet. We saw the doctor briefly, then he sent
us to the Tomball hospital to get X-rays. I trust this doctor implicitly and he trusts me. He said we would have better luck getting an orthopedist there than 1 of the hospitals closer to us. My sister also had some crutches Angel could borrow if need be and they live in Tomball/Magnolia so I knew we 
would go by there afterwards most likely. I was glad we had the DS and DSi as well as a plethora of snacks for the sifties. I pushed Angel around in the umbrella stroller all day.
After X-rays (which I was careful to leave the room for, fat lot of good it did me...), we got an appointment with a
n orthopedist a few hours later in Tomball. The X-ray tech showed me the x-rays, wherein it showed that Angel has not 1 but 2 diagonal fractures on his large lower leg bone. After getting kicked out of the waiting area at the hospital by some lady who told me that security was on their way (I swear we weren't doing anything!), we headed to a nearby Wal-mart (Thank goodness for my GPS. I miss it now. See the next post, if I get to it today.) and picked up diapers and something else we felt was needed like Animal Crossing City Folk (Video games are a needed item when someone is sick or injured!). We made our way to the doc's and got more 
X-rays. Apparently you are supposed to bring them with you! Thanks for the info people. I stayed just outside the room again, listening to my son cry out in pain as they had him move his leg into the right positions for the x-rays.
We waited around
for the doc to look at it. Then a nice tech/nurse came in and wrapped Angel up, black being the color of choice. We didn't get to get a waterproof cast, b/c of the fit or something. Then the biggest problem was dealing with Angel's pain, I'd forgotten to ask about his pain management, and the doctor really didn't give me much care info, except to say that he shouldn't put his weight on it. And of course, how do we sign a black cast? A day or so later we went and got some silver sharpies from Wal-mart, in case you wanna come sign it!
And here are random pics of us all when they were done wrapping him up. Here's how well those self-timers on cameras work in the 21st century! At least with a digital I can take a hundred pics and see if it turned out right away. Hmmm, I'm not fast enough in this one.
Oops, I blocked Isa in that one, and it looks like H is mad.
Here we go. This is what we look like after visiting 2 doctors and 1 hospital for about 6 1/2 hours. We are ready to go home, and for pizza which daddy picked up and met us at home with.
Then Tricia and the kids came by to share pizza with us, drop off crutches, and be disappointed that they couldn't sign the cast yet!
Btw, it only took Angel about a day to get used to his crutches. He's doing well on them and wants to be up and around. He has a follow up visit in 2 weeks (most likely the cast will be on for 4-6 weeks, though).
Wait 'til you hear what happened later in the week, but before the miscarriage...
tibia, not fibula. 2 fractures, 1 bone. No displacement though, and no dislocation of any joints. He was "lucky." This is what happens when
you are messing around on the Sabbath and your mother doesn't stop you in time. It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye-- um, breaks a leg.I wrapped his leg in an ace bandage Sunday night, right after it happened. We laid him down, treated him for shock (Angel goes into shock very easily when he is injured), and I had the sad privilege of feeling his leg to see if it was displaced at all. He was in a LOT of pain. We fed him Ibuprofen, and got him tenderly to bed. His uncle felt really bad, b/c he was playing with the kids, but of course Angel himself made the statement that same night that it was NOT his fault.
Monday morning, Angel was in a lot of pain again, so I called the pediatrician's office as soon as I could, packed everyone up and headed there. Halfway there, I had to turn back (since I don't have pockets on Sundays, I put my wallet in my church backpack, not the sifty backpack) and pick up my wallet. We saw the doctor briefly, then he sent
us to the Tomball hospital to get X-rays. I trust this doctor implicitly and he trusts me. He said we would have better luck getting an orthopedist there than 1 of the hospitals closer to us. My sister also had some crutches Angel could borrow if need be and they live in Tomball/Magnolia so I knew we 
would go by there afterwards most likely. I was glad we had the DS and DSi as well as a plethora of snacks for the sifties. I pushed Angel around in the umbrella stroller all day.After X-rays (which I was careful to leave the room for, fat lot of good it did me...), we got an appointment with a
n orthopedist a few hours later in Tomball. The X-ray tech showed me the x-rays, wherein it showed that Angel has not 1 but 2 diagonal fractures on his large lower leg bone. After getting kicked out of the waiting area at the hospital by some lady who told me that security was on their way (I swear we weren't doing anything!), we headed to a nearby Wal-mart (Thank goodness for my GPS. I miss it now. See the next post, if I get to it today.) and picked up diapers and something else we felt was needed like Animal Crossing City Folk (Video games are a needed item when someone is sick or injured!). We made our way to the doc's and got more 
X-rays. Apparently you are supposed to bring them with you! Thanks for the info people. I stayed just outside the room again, listening to my son cry out in pain as they had him move his leg into the right positions for the x-rays.We waited around
for the doc to look at it. Then a nice tech/nurse came in and wrapped Angel up, black being the color of choice. We didn't get to get a waterproof cast, b/c of the fit or something. Then the biggest problem was dealing with Angel's pain, I'd forgotten to ask about his pain management, and the doctor really didn't give me much care info, except to say that he shouldn't put his weight on it. And of course, how do we sign a black cast? A day or so later we went and got some silver sharpies from Wal-mart, in case you wanna come sign it!And here are random pics of us all when they were done wrapping him up. Here's how well those self-timers on cameras work in the 21st century! At least with a digital I can take a hundred pics and see if it turned out right away. Hmmm, I'm not fast enough in this one.
Oops, I blocked Isa in that one, and it looks like H is mad.
Here we go. This is what we look like after visiting 2 doctors and 1 hospital for about 6 1/2 hours. We are ready to go home, and for pizza which daddy picked up and met us at home with. 
Then Tricia and the kids came by to share pizza with us, drop off crutches, and be disappointed that they couldn't sign the cast yet!Btw, it only took Angel about a day to get used to his crutches. He's doing well on them and wants to be up and around. He has a follow up visit in 2 weeks (most likely the cast will be on for 4-6 weeks, though).
Wait 'til you hear what happened later in the week, but before the miscarriage...
The Worst Post or Another TMI post
There is something so uniquely depressing about wiping the blood of my potential unborn child off of the toilet seat with a clorox wipe. It's so final and almost obscene, like I'm erasing the evidence of a crime scene. Like I'm trying to deny it ever happened, b/c once that's gone there is nothing to say I was ever almost 12 weeks pregnant.
I had a tiny bit of blood for a few days right after we passed the 10 1/2 week mark. Since giving birth the number of times I have leads to undesirable side effects (like Hemorrhoids, yuck), I assumed/hoped with good reason) that's what it was. Sunday Angel & I stayed home, for his sake (see the next post for details on that), so I was up most of the afternoon unlike most Sundays wherein I sleep all afternoon. Robert was getting the smaller sifties into a bath in the evening and I was going to the bathroom. When I wiped, Robert noticed (from across the bathroom, note), "That's not a little bit of blood," he said.
Obviously, we were both thinking the same thing. I guess that's it for this one. I went on to fixing dinner, gushing blood occasionally and running to the bathroom at random times, pretty much ruining most of the pita bread I was making, trying to act for the kids' sake that nothing was weird or amiss. Eventually dinner got done, we ate, sometime in there Robert told Angel what was happening, and the missionaries called to cancel their dinner appointment with us (thank goodness! Who wants to keep running to the bathroom very suddenly with the poor missionaries there?). At some point Angel asked Robert if he was going to work tomorrow. Robert's answer broke my heart. I was going to have to do this alone, on a Monday.
Thank goodness for a diva cup, b/c I hate pads, and I wouldn't feel comfortable using tampons during a miscarriage. As it was I also walked around with a dishtowel folded up between my legs all evening Sunday and all day Monday (and now, btw).
Here's the stuff no one tells you about a miscarriage, and I wish I had known, just because: it is NOT like a period, but more like nothing else really. It's big clots of "stuff", that comes out like you are giving birth, quickly and unexpectedly.
It's painful. It feels very much like birthing, the waves come and go, they shoot down my legs and from my lower back. The difference for me is it's not over in a few hours, it lasts for days. I have renewed respect for women who "labor" for days before birthing. My hypnobabies techniques have been invaluable, but I have been loathe to do my cds b/c I can't stand the idea of listening to pregnancy affirmations and relaxation sessions that talk of nothing but my baby. I have been using my finger drop and putting myself into a deep state of self-hypnosis, just to relax and let the waves do their thing. And at the same time that I appreciate having these techniques at my disposal, I wish I simply had a big bottle of tylenol 3 to make it all go away. Then who would take care of my sifties, with Angel incapacitated?
I thought I would be angry this time. I thought I would cry a lot, which I haven't even done once. But when I think about it, I have been warned that Jane may have been my last. I just didn't believe it. I was only 30 when I had her. 30! I've enjoyed this great nostalgia the whole 2+ years she's been here. When I look at her I enjoy her more so than any of the other sifties. I've always thought of it in terms of "what if she were my last baby?", without actually believing it to be true. It was just a way of living in the moment for me, truly appreciating what I have, you know.
About the time she turned 18 months, and I was wondering why we weren't pregnant again, Robert told me that he thought that maybe I wouldn't get pregnant again. It came out of nowhere, but Robert usually has good promptings. He just KNOWS things. It's weird, but it's one of the things I've always loved about him, he is so close to the Spirit that he gets these promptings about everyday things, like going to the movies or which direction we should drive to go somewhere.
I've been overweight since I was old enough to know what it meant. I sat at 150 pounds since I was 12 (remember I'm only 5' 2"), then after I had Angel I went up to about 170. Then by the time I had Oliver I went up to 195. I was determined that I would never hit the dreaded 200 mark, which would be like the black spot to me. I went on birth control again (long story), started counting calories and getting healthier, lost 40 pounds over 8 months, then got pregnant with Isa. Over the last 6 years (and 2 more sifties) I gained it all back. Overall I've never really felt healthy except when I was losing weight before Isa, and during pregnancies when I was exercising.
Then I got pregnant. "Whew,"I thought. There's nothing wrong with me. 10 1/2 weeks later it was over. Read how I dealt with that here (and the subsequent posts) if you are brave.
Amidst my wallowing and confusion, I received a prompting, "You need to lose 20 pounds, April."
Sigh.
I hate counting calories.
I hate exercising.
I hate weighing my food.
But count, exercise, and weigh I did. I lost 15 pounds in 3 months. I felt better. I kicked my caffeine habit. And I got pregnant! After only 15 pounds! So it was a test! I passed, and I get to have another baby. I get to use my Hypnobabies again! I get to have a homebirth! But I didn't use exclamation points in my head. I was wary. I decided to tell NO ONE until we hit 12 full weeks. Let me illustrate why we've done this with each and every pregnancy.
We went into the pediatrician's office last week. The nurse said to me (from behind the tall counter mind you), "You're pregnant!" I said, looking around, "Can you tell?" She told me that I had told them the last time we were in (I must have mentioned it to the doctor last time we were in months ago). It dawned on me that she was talking about my miscarriage, wherein I could have been 7 1/2 months pregnant at this point. I had the most painful few seconds in which I explained that I was pregnant again, but we had lost the former pregnancy at 10 1/2 weeks. And she had that awkward silence and look on her face that said, "I have no idea how to respond to that" and she apologized. Can you imagine, not remembering all the people you told you were pregnant at 6 weeks or whenever you found out? Then running into them randomly over the next 6 months, at which point you've dealt with it as much as possible, but every time someone sees you they remember that you were (they think ARE) pregnant. Then they ask about it when you don't even remember telling them, and suddenly it's as if a depression bomb is dropped on the conversation, and your day is ruined from there on. Then you spend the next few days (or more) living it over again.
That's why we wait to tell people.
I was sicker than I usually am. I even left church once, b/c my stomach was so upset. I even did a 2nd pregnancy test a couple of weeks ago to see if my HCG levels were rising. It came up positive before the indicator line came up. I was elated, but still wary. But I didn't tell anyone, though Robert & I were sorely tempted. I take that back. I told one person: the midwife we were seeing with the last pregnancy. I emailed her and asked for any advice she may give, but declined having her come out to see us until we passed the critical point (10 1/2 weeks in my mind). She even called me the day before I was to hit 11 weeks, b/c she was going out of town the whole next week and offered to come over and see if we could hear the heartbeat. I was SO tempted, but I had seen a tiny bit of blood at that point, and I also knew that with all my other pregnancies we never could pick up a heartbeat with the doppler until almost 12 weeks, so even if baby was fine we may not hear it. So I declined.
Now we're back to the beginning of the post.
I feel sad. Will I never give birth to another sifty of my own?
I feel disappointed. Isn't this a righteous desire? Aren't there Spirits that need bodies still, and I'm willing!?
I feel empty. Are my desires wrong? Am I doing something wrong with my sifties that I don't deserve anymore?
I don't feel angry. I recognize that my whining is akin to a millionaire complaining that he only has 5 yachts, when someone else out there has 8! How selfish could I be? I have 5 beautiful, intelligent, kind, sweet, amazing blessings. I've been blessed to give birth to 6 healthy children. I have the most amazing husband who has supported, loved, blessed, given everything he is to our family and me.
How could I possibly be so selfish as to want more?
Maybe just 1 more? (Then we'd be an 8 person family; 8 is my lucky number...)
I had a tiny bit of blood for a few days right after we passed the 10 1/2 week mark. Since giving birth the number of times I have leads to undesirable side effects (like Hemorrhoids, yuck), I assumed/hoped with good reason) that's what it was. Sunday Angel & I stayed home, for his sake (see the next post for details on that), so I was up most of the afternoon unlike most Sundays wherein I sleep all afternoon. Robert was getting the smaller sifties into a bath in the evening and I was going to the bathroom. When I wiped, Robert noticed (from across the bathroom, note), "That's not a little bit of blood," he said.
Obviously, we were both thinking the same thing. I guess that's it for this one. I went on to fixing dinner, gushing blood occasionally and running to the bathroom at random times, pretty much ruining most of the pita bread I was making, trying to act for the kids' sake that nothing was weird or amiss. Eventually dinner got done, we ate, sometime in there Robert told Angel what was happening, and the missionaries called to cancel their dinner appointment with us (thank goodness! Who wants to keep running to the bathroom very suddenly with the poor missionaries there?). At some point Angel asked Robert if he was going to work tomorrow. Robert's answer broke my heart. I was going to have to do this alone, on a Monday.
Thank goodness for a diva cup, b/c I hate pads, and I wouldn't feel comfortable using tampons during a miscarriage. As it was I also walked around with a dishtowel folded up between my legs all evening Sunday and all day Monday (and now, btw).
Here's the stuff no one tells you about a miscarriage, and I wish I had known, just because: it is NOT like a period, but more like nothing else really. It's big clots of "stuff", that comes out like you are giving birth, quickly and unexpectedly.
It's painful. It feels very much like birthing, the waves come and go, they shoot down my legs and from my lower back. The difference for me is it's not over in a few hours, it lasts for days. I have renewed respect for women who "labor" for days before birthing. My hypnobabies techniques have been invaluable, but I have been loathe to do my cds b/c I can't stand the idea of listening to pregnancy affirmations and relaxation sessions that talk of nothing but my baby. I have been using my finger drop and putting myself into a deep state of self-hypnosis, just to relax and let the waves do their thing. And at the same time that I appreciate having these techniques at my disposal, I wish I simply had a big bottle of tylenol 3 to make it all go away. Then who would take care of my sifties, with Angel incapacitated?
I thought I would be angry this time. I thought I would cry a lot, which I haven't even done once. But when I think about it, I have been warned that Jane may have been my last. I just didn't believe it. I was only 30 when I had her. 30! I've enjoyed this great nostalgia the whole 2+ years she's been here. When I look at her I enjoy her more so than any of the other sifties. I've always thought of it in terms of "what if she were my last baby?", without actually believing it to be true. It was just a way of living in the moment for me, truly appreciating what I have, you know.
About the time she turned 18 months, and I was wondering why we weren't pregnant again, Robert told me that he thought that maybe I wouldn't get pregnant again. It came out of nowhere, but Robert usually has good promptings. He just KNOWS things. It's weird, but it's one of the things I've always loved about him, he is so close to the Spirit that he gets these promptings about everyday things, like going to the movies or which direction we should drive to go somewhere.
I've been overweight since I was old enough to know what it meant. I sat at 150 pounds since I was 12 (remember I'm only 5' 2"), then after I had Angel I went up to about 170. Then by the time I had Oliver I went up to 195. I was determined that I would never hit the dreaded 200 mark, which would be like the black spot to me. I went on birth control again (long story), started counting calories and getting healthier, lost 40 pounds over 8 months, then got pregnant with Isa. Over the last 6 years (and 2 more sifties) I gained it all back. Overall I've never really felt healthy except when I was losing weight before Isa, and during pregnancies when I was exercising.
Then I got pregnant. "Whew,"I thought. There's nothing wrong with me. 10 1/2 weeks later it was over. Read how I dealt with that here (and the subsequent posts) if you are brave.
Amidst my wallowing and confusion, I received a prompting, "You need to lose 20 pounds, April."
Sigh.
I hate counting calories.
I hate exercising.
I hate weighing my food.
But count, exercise, and weigh I did. I lost 15 pounds in 3 months. I felt better. I kicked my caffeine habit. And I got pregnant! After only 15 pounds! So it was a test! I passed, and I get to have another baby. I get to use my Hypnobabies again! I get to have a homebirth! But I didn't use exclamation points in my head. I was wary. I decided to tell NO ONE until we hit 12 full weeks. Let me illustrate why we've done this with each and every pregnancy.
We went into the pediatrician's office last week. The nurse said to me (from behind the tall counter mind you), "You're pregnant!" I said, looking around, "Can you tell?" She told me that I had told them the last time we were in (I must have mentioned it to the doctor last time we were in months ago). It dawned on me that she was talking about my miscarriage, wherein I could have been 7 1/2 months pregnant at this point. I had the most painful few seconds in which I explained that I was pregnant again, but we had lost the former pregnancy at 10 1/2 weeks. And she had that awkward silence and look on her face that said, "I have no idea how to respond to that" and she apologized. Can you imagine, not remembering all the people you told you were pregnant at 6 weeks or whenever you found out? Then running into them randomly over the next 6 months, at which point you've dealt with it as much as possible, but every time someone sees you they remember that you were (they think ARE) pregnant. Then they ask about it when you don't even remember telling them, and suddenly it's as if a depression bomb is dropped on the conversation, and your day is ruined from there on. Then you spend the next few days (or more) living it over again.
That's why we wait to tell people.
I was sicker than I usually am. I even left church once, b/c my stomach was so upset. I even did a 2nd pregnancy test a couple of weeks ago to see if my HCG levels were rising. It came up positive before the indicator line came up. I was elated, but still wary. But I didn't tell anyone, though Robert & I were sorely tempted. I take that back. I told one person: the midwife we were seeing with the last pregnancy. I emailed her and asked for any advice she may give, but declined having her come out to see us until we passed the critical point (10 1/2 weeks in my mind). She even called me the day before I was to hit 11 weeks, b/c she was going out of town the whole next week and offered to come over and see if we could hear the heartbeat. I was SO tempted, but I had seen a tiny bit of blood at that point, and I also knew that with all my other pregnancies we never could pick up a heartbeat with the doppler until almost 12 weeks, so even if baby was fine we may not hear it. So I declined.
Now we're back to the beginning of the post.
I feel sad. Will I never give birth to another sifty of my own?
I feel disappointed. Isn't this a righteous desire? Aren't there Spirits that need bodies still, and I'm willing!?
I feel empty. Are my desires wrong? Am I doing something wrong with my sifties that I don't deserve anymore?
I don't feel angry. I recognize that my whining is akin to a millionaire complaining that he only has 5 yachts, when someone else out there has 8! How selfish could I be? I have 5 beautiful, intelligent, kind, sweet, amazing blessings. I've been blessed to give birth to 6 healthy children. I have the most amazing husband who has supported, loved, blessed, given everything he is to our family and me.
How could I possibly be so selfish as to want more?
Maybe just 1 more? (Then we'd be an 8 person family; 8 is my lucky number...)
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
August With Us, or at least what I took pictures of...
The sifties had a temple trip/tour with their Primary. It was OK, except that it was the middle of the day at the beginning of August in Houston. Ugh. We walked around outside a bit and took pictures. The idea being that I would get a beautiful, memorable shot of my sweet children for distribution at a future holiday... Here's the first shot:
Then Oliver decided to bug Horatio...
Who threatened him with a look...
At which point Oliver wondered if maybe he shouldn't have been teasing Horatio...
And Horatio moved to do something physical about it...
At which point I believe Oliver decided a defensive posture was warranted...
And Horatio decided mid-hit to turn it into a funky dance, I suppose. All the while Isa and EJ were being their very reverentest and Angel was looking about as cool a tween as possible.
Then they decided they were done with the picture taking (fie on digital cameras!).
The we all got to go inside and have a snack.
yummy.
I did some henna this month. Here's my oldest sister with a dragonfly on her leg...
and swirlies on the opposite side.
and Isa chose this HUGE butterfly/goddess/fairy thing. She still has traces of it on her leg, but it was pretty.
The biggest thing this month was when Stephanie came to visit! We got her for a whole week and I think I took only a dozen pictures the whole time. Lame. But here are some from the beach. I made a sea turtle and someone decided he needed sunglasses.
Here's the crew waiting for the word that they can do the "Mexican Sand Stomping dance". It's tradition. I like to build sand sculptures when we go to the beach and they like to smoosh them; but they know I will get mad if they do so before I give the word. They are being so patient!
After the beach we had to go to the Olive Garden, way too late. By the time we got there Horatio was out (it's a long drive home from Galveston!), and by the time we had eaten we had 3 sleeping.
Here's the Jane:
Here's Horatio:
Here are the awake sifties, might be due to the caffienated soda... ?
And here's Isa, with the best pillow she could find:
On the last day, I remembered to pull out the camera, at which point Isa was in mourning mode, but did consent to show off her purpley blackish fingernails which Stephanie painted for her.
Here she is grieving Stephanie being gone before Stephanie even left.
And here's the whole rotten bunch -uh, I mean cute bunch, yeah.
We got an exciting phone call a good week or so before expected that the kids had a new cousin, V. She has the coolest name ever, and Horatio thoroughly enjoyed holding and kissing her. Here she is fresh from the hospital (we got to go see her right after dropping Stephanie at the airport):
Zach had his 16th birthday, so we brought over a cake...
The girls and I ate some nachos.
I have no idea why Robert felt this needed to be photographically documented.
And I took some pics of the 3 oldest sifties for our new school year. Here's my Angel (almost 12!):
Here's my Olibear (almost 10!):
And here's the Isa (cute as a button at almost 6!):
So that's some of our August. Did I mention that Robert & I celebrated our 13th Anniversary this month, too? It has been a blessed and lucky 13 years. Scumps to 13 more and eternity...
Then Oliver decided to bug Horatio...
Who threatened him with a look...
At which point Oliver wondered if maybe he shouldn't have been teasing Horatio...
And Horatio moved to do something physical about it...
At which point I believe Oliver decided a defensive posture was warranted...
And Horatio decided mid-hit to turn it into a funky dance, I suppose. All the while Isa and EJ were being their very reverentest and Angel was looking about as cool a tween as possible.
Then they decided they were done with the picture taking (fie on digital cameras!).
The we all got to go inside and have a snack.
yummy.
I did some henna this month. Here's my oldest sister with a dragonfly on her leg...
and swirlies on the opposite side.
and Isa chose this HUGE butterfly/goddess/fairy thing. She still has traces of it on her leg, but it was pretty.
The biggest thing this month was when Stephanie came to visit! We got her for a whole week and I think I took only a dozen pictures the whole time. Lame. But here are some from the beach. I made a sea turtle and someone decided he needed sunglasses.
Here's the crew waiting for the word that they can do the "Mexican Sand Stomping dance". It's tradition. I like to build sand sculptures when we go to the beach and they like to smoosh them; but they know I will get mad if they do so before I give the word. They are being so patient!
After the beach we had to go to the Olive Garden, way too late. By the time we got there Horatio was out (it's a long drive home from Galveston!), and by the time we had eaten we had 3 sleeping.
Here's the Jane:
Here's Horatio:
Here are the awake sifties, might be due to the caffienated soda... ?
And here's Isa, with the best pillow she could find:
On the last day, I remembered to pull out the camera, at which point Isa was in mourning mode, but did consent to show off her purpley blackish fingernails which Stephanie painted for her.
Here she is grieving Stephanie being gone before Stephanie even left.
And here's the whole rotten bunch -uh, I mean cute bunch, yeah.
We got an exciting phone call a good week or so before expected that the kids had a new cousin, V. She has the coolest name ever, and Horatio thoroughly enjoyed holding and kissing her. Here she is fresh from the hospital (we got to go see her right after dropping Stephanie at the airport):
Zach had his 16th birthday, so we brought over a cake...
The girls and I ate some nachos.
I have no idea why Robert felt this needed to be photographically documented.
And I took some pics of the 3 oldest sifties for our new school year. Here's my Angel (almost 12!):
Here's my Olibear (almost 10!):
And here's the Isa (cute as a button at almost 6!):
So that's some of our August. Did I mention that Robert & I celebrated our 13th Anniversary this month, too? It has been a blessed and lucky 13 years. Scumps to 13 more and eternity...
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