Busy like that...

I know I've been doing a bit too much cleaning

when my three year old puts herself down for a nap...

On the floor, on her Lion King sleeping bag.

Feelin' the family love

We had the pleasure of heading back to my parents house this past weekend. An added surprise and joy was the announcement that my brother and his family would also be there.

This is a bit of a hodge-podge of photos because with the convenience of digital photography comes the headache of batteries going dead once you've left the house. So three cameras later...this is what was captured on mine, thanks in part to the photography skills of Auntie Barb, as she was a side-line participant in this particular family outing (the bowling). ***updated with photos sent from my sister-in-law

Prior to this activity, we had a great evening of sitting around the fire-pit with George playing his guitar and our off key but enthusiastic voices singing everything from the Eagles greatest hits, to "Pork-N-Beans", to "How Great is our God"...not necessarily in that order. My camera was no where to be found at the time, but I did manage to record on my mom's a live version of the singing...and if I had the technical abilities that many of you have, you guys would be watching and hearing us sing. Okay, you can all be thankful right now that I am technically challenged!

The side effects of fairies

I have to admit that I did wonder what effect, if any, sleeping in a pink room might have on my son. It's not like I intended for him to sleep with visions of Tinkerbell and princesses surrounding him, but I just haven't made the time to take down the crib in his room and replace it with a big boy bed. So in the interim, he sleeps in the pink room. (This was Olivia and Kate's room until they moved to the basement) Being the rough and tumble jolly chump that he is, I figured that any extra tranquility that fairies and pinkness could bring upon him would be A-OK.

Then the other day I heard the click-clack of high heels on my kitchen floor. I looked up from the sink expecting to see one of my daughters bedazzled in dress up clothing. I was slightly taken aback to see instead my son sashaying across the floor as if he had been born to wear heels. He managed to put them on himself and had no trouble walking in these stylish metallic purple heels.
Okay, so maybe the pinkness is having more of an effect than I had thought. But I don't know, I think that paired with the camo, he's got quite a look going here.

*We moved him back into his blue room this past weekend.

Beauty in simplicity

We don't live near an ocean. We don't have immediate access to high end shopping. We are not nestled in a cabin at the basin of the Rockies. Our cultural opportunities are limited at best.

But with just a five minute drive, we can take in some of the greatest artwork, most beautiful sunsets, smell the most fragrant of air, and experience a communion with nature that rivals even a day of shopping on 5th Avenue. (What am I saying? Like I have any idea what that is like...but lets assume.)

Life isn't beautiful and worth something because of it's content. It's beautiful and worth something because the content is ours for the making. So many times I've missed the opportunity to see the beauty of my surroundings because I was focusing on what someone else had. I was 'comparing myself to the wrong person' as my brother has pointed out. No, I can't run on the beaches of our great oceans, and I can't hop in a taxi to shop in the most fashionable stores, and I can't lie in a hammock staring at the mountains. But I do have a beautiful life right here in South Dakota...prairie dogs and all.

Here's my family's attempt at finding the beauty near us. We recently took our kids here on a Sunday afternoon and just spent time together, without phones, computers, music, or entertainment. We listened carefully for the sound of the rooster pheasant, we breathed deeply and identified the smells of grass, dirt, rain and campfires, we found entertainment in it's purest form...God's creation. And I must say, there is nothing quite like it. Nothing quite like removing 15 ticks off of eachother later that night either.


(to speed up the slide show just click on the + sign at the bottom left)

Happy Birthday Mom!

I remember as a child thinking that my mom never aged past 36 years old. For some reason that age remained ingrained in my head and no matter how many years passed after her 36th birthday, she never aged in my mind.

In my eyes she still hasn't.

I don't know anyone who complains less about aging than my mom. You don't hear her talk about fine lines and wrinkles and which cream or ointment she needs to purchase to reverse the signs of aging. She doesn't visit the beauty salon every 6 weeks to have a stylist bleach out or cover up her silver threads of dignity. An occasional at home treatment, when she thinks of it, when she has time, if there is nothing else she'd rather be doing, is about the extent of her vanity.

Of all of the 'one liners' that I remember my mom trying to get out without bumbling them up royally...there is one, in particular, that I heard, took to heart, and still try to remember every day: "Beauty is only skin deep, but UGLY goes clear to the bone."

There is no question about where my mom's beauty begins. Whether she wanted to be an example to me and to all who met her or not, she was and still is. My mom knew that make-up couldn't hide an ugly spirit. Beauty creams couldn't reverse the signs of a life lived in bitterness. She found her beauty as the bride of Christ, and every shine, every sparkle, every bit of glowing that comes from her person is because of the light within her.

I love you mom. Your beauty is far deeper than your skin. It's the very core of who you are.

Happy 36th Birthday Mom!

It never fails...

I don't wear shorts. And right now I only have three pair of Capri's (trust me, between my kohl's charge card and my computer...i'm taking care of that). It never fails that when all three are in the wash it is smokin' dang hot! So, two days ago I frantically put a load together, even though no one else really had jeans to wash, so that I could get my Capri's clean and avoid the suffering and sweat that 9 inches of extra material heating the bottom portion of my legs, can bring.

Here's the forecast....


Quit laughing.

TOP TEN

I think we'd all say that the reading of blogs and/or having our own has had effects on our daily lives. Some good, like the camaraderie we feel, and some bad, like the housework that gets neglected.

I thought I'd share the TOP TEN (good) things that blogging has done for me.
(the black lettering in the list are links to some of your sites)

1. Given me an outlet for the 100,000+ words that are dying to be uttered to someone over the age of six, each day.


2. Made me realize that the traits which my relatives find so annoying are in some odd way found endearing by total strangers.
   
3. Given me laughter at the stroke of key. Anytime throughout my day when I am feeling the drain of parenting taking it's toll, I know that I can count on one of you to cheer me up.


4. I've gotten to know many amazing people who share so much in common with me.


5. I've gotten to know many amazing people (or animals) who share very little in common with me.


6. I have deepened my relationship with my brother, The Pirate, Don Knotts, Brad Pitt, Puss in Boots, or whomever he is portraying, by just the daily interaction that wasn't there before.


7. I have grown in my understanding of many topics. Some that I really didn't need any further understanding of, but I feel smarter all the same.


8. I have come to understand that there is much more to laugh about in motherhood than there is to cry about.


9. I have learned that everyone has a story to tell and some are better story-tellers than others.


10. I realize that my writing can affect people. As do my words. The power of life and death is found in the tongue -or keystroke- I hope that I bring only life.

Seven lovely things.

Elizabeth tagged me to come up with seven LOVELY things in my life right now. I'm usually not 'tagged' by others, I guess because of my cranky disposition when it comes to these blog filler type things...however, I was tagged by a pregnant woman, and I would hate to be responsible for ticking her off, we all know how moody pregnant women can be. Well, I could come up with far more than seven, but I will stick to the rules...this one time, and give you a glimpse of what is beautiful in my life right now through pictures.

1. My marriage.


2. My yard. God's handiwork.


3. Freezies in the sun on the swing.


4. Friends. God-parents.


5. Little girls.


6. Four kids that love eachother.


7. Arms to cuddle in.

Feelin' the pain

My husband and I recently experimented with a new physical activity together. Get your minds out of the gutter, we have THAT one mastered.

As part of the required PE classes in college we both used one of our credits to learn more about the art of racquetball, (not in the same class though). Well, my husband apparently learned more about the art than I did. I must have been too busy checking out the cute hinney's of the guys in front of me, because most of the 'art' was lost on me.

We decided to give it a whirl this past week and have a little fun playing each other at our local Community Center. As my husband wiped the floor with me, five games straight, completely unintentionally, (seriously people, he was playing at half speed and doing his best to give me shots I could return), I struggled to find the fun in it. I bounced off of unforgiving walls, hit myself with my own shots, and turned eight shades of red from all of the physical exertion, while my husband barely broke a sweat and smiled the whole time.

Besides my arm feeling like it needs acupuncture, the rest of me is handling the whoopin' pretty darn well. Oh, who the heck am I trying to kid? I feel like every muscle in my body has been drug through a meat grinder BACKWARDS! I did thoroughly enjoy the rush of energy used to SLAM the ball into the walls though. I released pent up frustration and anger in a more constructive way than ever. And if my husband occasionally got in the way of my crazy ball slammin'....well so be it. Some of the pent up frustration certainly can be attributed to him.

I would highly recommend it, if you can eat the sour taste of humble pie as you barely score 15 points combined in FIVE games. Yeah, I'll be back. I'll be meeting the Terminator on the court again. And this time I'll be ready. I'll drink my Gatorade, pop a few vitamin supplements, get a bigger racket and a less bouncy ball and I'll be ready. If that doesn't work, I may have to get myself one of those short little skirts and sports bra combo's and just win via a distraction technique. I'll let you know.

Body art...again.

Okay, so a we've had a few drawing-on-the-body incidents lately. I don't know whether to be angry that my rules of drawing on NOTHING BUT PAPER are being disobeyed or to be elated that the guilty culprit, or artist, can spell! A little of both I guess.

The changing of the tubs

One of my dreaded household chores...the tub changing. You know, the time of year (usually bi-annually for me) when you replace the corduroy pants and turtle necks for summer dresses and mesh shorts.

I am always amazed at how long this process takes. Any of you who know me, in person, know that I move at lightening speed most of the time. I don't like to dawdle. This does not mean that I am always working and busy, no unfortunately, but when I do set my mind that something needs to be done, I do it. Quickly. But this chore is so time consuming! I can spend an entire day working on this and feel so proud of myself for accomplishing it, only to have my husband ask when he gets home, "what did you do today?" It is the most unnoticable chore. No one would ever know that I spent hours and hours doing it. It just gets done.

As I stare into the closet, with a sense of fear, I realize that the only thing to do is to DIG IN. I begin my pile system.

• Don't fit one, won't keep for the next- DONATE


• Don't fit one, will keep for the next- LONG TERM STORAGE


• Fits fine, but no one likes it- TRASH


• Will fit next year too- STORE

Sounds easy enough right? But it is SO NOT EASY. Mix piles and mountains of already hand-me-down clothing with emotional strings to certain moments remembered in one particular outfit and it can become a psychological crisis real fast.

I have fantasies of this ultra organized life style, where things like this are just a breeze because of all of the checks and balances already set in place, but Oprah hasn't called me to be on her show yet. So I'm waiting.

Really, if you have any great ideas or advice for systems you use in your home, which require little thinking and little effort, toss them my way. Or if you know of any great organizational products, because hey I'm all about buying something to make it easier, let me know. Just remember that if it works for you take into account that I have to multiply every strategy by four. I'm not complaining, mind you. Just making that clear.

The bottom line, we have too much stuff. More than any one family could possibly need. But now that it is here, what do I do with it?

Changing it up

That was then....

This is now.

I asked some friends to give me ONE good reason not to cut my hair.

They came up with nothing.

So, I took off 6+ inches...hey, it's just hair.

It'll grow back.

Happy Birthday Shane!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHANE!!

I want to honor you by telling the whole blogworld

that you are a man among men,

your care and devotion to your girls (all three of them) is inspiring and rare.

Your daughters' future husband's will have a quite a large pair of shoes to fill,

as they compare all others to their loving father.

Happy Birthday Pirate Brother!

Now here is our celebration with Katy-Anne!

She don't know she's beautiful....

I don't know why I haven't written much about her up until this point, I guess part of it is the loss of words in which to use. I could re-tell silly conversations (and believe me there are many), memorable moments and shared frustrations, but they couldn't possibly do justice to the woman who shares them with me, my mom.

I could tell you how my mom has the amazing ability to laugh at herself in a way that makes you see her spirit in her eyes. Or I guess I could tell you how my mom tears up just at the mention of a child being mis-treated. I could tell you about our ability to carry on conversations only starting sentences and knowing where the other is going intuitively. I could tell you that my mom is deserving of sainthood for her patience with someone like my dad (yeah and myself). I could tell you that my mom is a sucker for a good conspiracy story. I could tell you that she changes lives daily with her work. I could tell you that I know no one with a more beautiful spirit or generous heart.

I have always known that my mom loves me. It has never been a deep mystery that I've needed the answer to. I never felt the need to defy her, rebel against her, or turn away from her. Her love has always been so compassionate, empathetic and nurturing that it's the kind of love you run to, not away from. I have always known. I just didn't know the depths until I became a mother myself.

How did you do it mom? How did you watch your heart walk around outside of your body? What did you tell yourself to keep your heart from breaking when we lashed out in anger? How did you stop yourself from indulging us in our wants to teach us how to need? What did you say to others who be-littled your role as teacher and full-time mother? How did you balance the neediness of your children with the need to be present to dad? What did you have to give up that you really wanted in order to give us what we needed? How did you survive those years of being our all without losing yourself in the process?

You inspire me. You inspire me to try harder, talk softer, rise earlier, love deeper, give more, sacrifice self, laugh at myself, laugh with others, forgive quickly, pray earnestly. You inspire me to be the mom to my children that you were to me. Yeah mom, I never doubted how much you loved me. Even in the darkest moments of my life, even in the times I felt completely mis-understood, even at the places of deepest shame and regret. You never chose those times to teach me a lesson on the consequences of my choices. You chose those times to teach me a lesson in unconditional love...and I am forever grateful.

I love you. And I know that as a mom, you probably didn't always know if I did. But I did and I do. Happy Mother's day.

Great expectations...

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but birthday's and day's like Mother's Day, that single me out as the supposed 'center of attention' are a bit difficult for me. NOT because I have difficulty being at the center of attention...no, unfortunately that's a place I'm all to comfortable being, which is also one of my many character deficiencies that I take to the cross daily. However, the reason I struggle with it is mainly because of the 'let down' I feel when something that I anticipate as wonderful isn't all that I thought it would be. Yet another of my faults. Yes, I do have many.

Instead of enjoying the moments throughout the day that are real and present, I tend to keep waiting for the really 'special' thing to happen and then miss all that was around me in the process. This is not to say that I am ALWAYS disappointed on my birthday and special days. I am not, but it is to say that I allow The Thief to rob me of the joy that is present, because I'm blinded by my own expectations.

Why am I sharing this with you, I'm not sure. But in the spirit of being authentic, I think that it is a struggle that perhaps I am not alone in. And as I press forward in prayer and living I find that sharing it is part of owning it and growing out of it, not into it.

This Mother's Day will be about my daughter. As we celebrate her life, in the form of a family gathering in honor of her birthday, I too am being celebrated. Even if not with cake and presents. I was chosen out of all creation to hold this angel in my womb until she could take her first breath, now I hold her in my heart for eternity. I will be in the moments of this day. I will smile more than frown. I will laugh more than worry. I will sit with her even though there is work to be done. I will not feel disappointment at what could or should have been. I will be content just to see the joy on her face as she is surrounded by love.

Call it a hunch

I have a feeling...

that this is going to be....

a very long.....

and very dirty....

summer!

(if you click on the pictures you'll see just how dirty little Andrew is!)

Happy Birthday Katharine Anne

Adding to my denial factor, that the baby could indeed be coming, was the fact that my OB doctor had seen me just a few days prior and explained that he felt confident in being gone over the weekend, as I had been over-due two times and showed no signs of eminent birth. He knew my fear factor in having a different doctor, but assured me that if by chance I did deliver over the weekend, that the man covering for him was, at least, the same doctor who did my C-Section. What did my precious OB/GYN have to do over Mother's Day weekend you ask? Attend a play-off Timberwolves basketball game in Minneapolis.

Not being a total idiot, I told Chad that after I changed out of church clothes maybe we should call the OB floor and ask them what we should do. Remember, same rules apply as when Olivia was born. After having one C-Section, it is extremely important to get to the hospital sooner than later. So, I changed and I called.

They asked about cramping..."oh yeah, off and on all day- definitely more frequent this evening." They asked about leakage..."oh- you mean like, down there?" Yep. That's what they meant. "Yeah, since this morning. But no big gushes...it's only my water breaking if it gushes, right?" Nope. Come in now. "Noooo...my doctor said I wouldn't deliver until Monday AT LEAST. He isn't here. I don't want to have this baby tonight, I was going to sleep sooo good tonight." Come in now. "Who's on call? Dr. Benson, right?" Nope. Another new doctor. Three babies. Three doctors.

I remember dragging my feet and taking my sweet time walking up to the OB floor. I was SO not happy about another new doctor. We checked in just before 9PM on Saturday night. After all of the routine checking and the nurses listening to me complain about having my third (there's only three in town) OB doctor in three kids, they left to call him and fill him in on the stats. The nurses returned to tell me that the doc was on his way and would be there shortly. Oh yay, I thought.

He arrived much quicker than I expected and he got right to business. He said he'd stick around until the baby came. I assured him that it wasn't necessary, he could go home and get a good night sleep. Someone may as well. I'd done this twice and believe me it wasn't going to happen any time soon. He smiled, and said that he too, had toddlers at home and the cots here sounded more appealing to him than a foot in his face all night.

They did the usual, prepped me then started Pitocin. I waited. A nurse has to remain in my room at all times once the Pitocin is started. Which can be annoying, but in this case...good company. I told Chad to get some sleep and Nurse Ginny and I sat up for a long chat and a long night. I had learned with the first two that drugs are good and of course asked for my epidural promptly. It was started and life was good.

A few hours into our visiting I re-adjusted my self and noticed that there was a lot of blood. I reverted to the simplistic question my husband had asked me earlier in the day, "is that normal?" Ginny jumped up like someone had shot her in the bum with an arrow. "Normal? Yes. Right before the baby arrives." Hello! I have never seen people move so quickly. Me hollering, "someone wake up my husband!"

Katharine Anne made her entrance on Mother's Day, at 2:44AM weighing in at 7lbs. 8oz.

Right from the beginning she was an easy child. Easy labor, easy delivery, easy going. It has not changed in three years. She is a breath of fresh air. The sunshine in our home that shines year round. You can not meet Katy and not smile. She has a contagious happiness that oozes through her pores. I don't know if it was God's way of letting me know that I could handle three little kids, or if it was just the luck of the draw (okay, I know it was God), but adding Kate to our home was not the burden and struggle that so many had assured us the third child would be. It was as natural as the air I breathe. Never will I receive a better Mother's Day gift.

The kids welcomed her with hugs and kisses and more love than one little girl could possibly ask for. Loving her is natural. Being her mom is natural. The gift of life....SUPER-NATURAL.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUNSHINE!

May 8th, 2004-It begins

Warning: This is definite mommy blog material, meaning this content may bore you to death. Tough.


Up to this point none of my children had thought it necessary to be born on their due date...so instead of hoping against hope that the 3rd one would be, I was resigned to the fact that the 10th would come and go with little more than a few cramps.

My large abdomen was causing me to sleep little and quite uncomfortably but adding to that two little people, yes little, Nic was only 3 and Olivia 2, who ran me ragged during the day, my end days were not filled with rest and relaxation like I would have liked. Knowing that it could be another week, at least, before this baby came, I decided that calling in the cavalry now for a much needed rest might be best. I also had lots of those little 'nesting' projects to finish up prior to baby's arrival.

Every year, Clark has a city wide rummage sale the first weekend of May. Being a Latunski, it's in my blood to become elated at the thought of rummaging through someone else's garbage in search of hidden treasures, even at 9 months of pregnancy. We split up in packs to cover the most ground and mom and I, with kid in tow (and one in the tum), spent a full morning of walking, shopping, and visiting. Throughout the morning I felt slight cramping, but having done this twice before leading NO WHERE, I looked at it as a passing thing.

After five hours of treasure hunting, Chad and I left our two little people in Clark with my parents and headed off for home to enjoy a day of uninterrupted project fulfillment and a night of blissful rest. It was a gorgeous day and I was dying to get my flower bed planted without the help of four extra hands pulling the "pretties" out of the ground and avoid as much dirt ingestion as possible. So Chad and I spent the afternoon on our hands and knees in the dirt. My twinges remained all day. I remember saying to Chad at one point, "geesh, I feel like every time I stand up I pee my pants!" Being a male...and an engineer, his response was predictable, "Is that normal?" I said, "with pregnancy, EVERYTHING is normal!"

I took care of the "peeing problem" as I saw fit and continued my work in the yard. I even drove a tractor for the first (and last) time that day. After a long and physical day of manual labor I felt exhausted, but good. We showered up and got ready for Saturday night Mass. Another thrilling thought, going to church without perching a 20 pound, squirming child upon my ballooning belly. I was supposed to be a communion minister that night, but due to my leaking issues I whispered to Chad during Mass that it might be best if he replaced me....didn't want to become a spectacle on the altar.

Throughout Mass, I repeatedly rubbed my back and even occasionally grabbed at my stomach, but I'd been doing that all afternoon, so it went unnoticed by me. Not to the old ladies sitting behind me, however. (Remember, we sit in the front...yes, even without our kids.) After church, one particular lady grabbed my arm and looked Chad in the eyes and said, "You better get this mama into the hospital. She's gonna have that baby tonight." Knowing so much more than she possibly could, we smiled knowingly at each other and replied, "Oh, I doubt it."

We headed for home, the whole mile that it was, and prepared for a quiet evening without our kids.....

TO BE CONTINUED.

School Daze

Conversation between my son and me on the way home from school.

Nic: "Mom, do kids have to go to school?"

Me: "Well, what do you mean?"

Nic: "I mean, is it a law or something?"

Me: "Actually it is. Parents are required to educate their children."

Nic: "Do you mean, make them go to school?"

Me: "Well, parents have three options. One is to send them to a public school. A school like some of your friends go to. Or parents can send them to a private school, like yours. Or parents can home school their children."

Nic: "Yep, that's the one I want."

Me: "What? Home school?"

Nic: "Definitely, that would be the best!"

Me: "Why do you want to be home schooled?"

Nic: "Because you wouldn't yell at me, or write my name on the board."

Me: "Hello? Do we live in the same house? Who yells at you at school? And I would SO write your name on the board if I had to!"

Nic: "Well, my teacher sometimes talks more loudly at us. And mom, we don't have a board."

Me: "Nic, mom talks louder at you ALL THE TIME! And you aren't even here all day. You definitely have the nicer teacher right now. And Nic, I can get a board..."

He seemed content to leave it at that. I don't think I'll tell him- just yet, that his grandparents home schooled me. I am 100% supportive of the dedicated parents who can do it, I just don't know that I am one of those who could. But, I've learned to never say never.

Just a thought

Not to dwell on all of this any longer than necessary, I will take a brief moment to share a few thoughts with you and then, I promise, it will be done.

1. I mistakenly assumed that those reading would understand that I am not referring to questions among friends or acquaintances. I was not. I was referring to random questions by random people who have no previous knowledge of my family. I'm sorry if I was unclear about that.

2. I was not trying to justify why we have a large family, or are open to one. My point was that random people sometimes ask some pretty ridiculous (there's that word Kerrie) questions that are sometimes very difficult to answer without showing my frustration.

3. I was not implying that I have never asked a stupid question. I do it all of the time, and my hope is that when I know better...I do better. I do believe that there is a big difference in asking an innocently stupid question and asking a stupid question with the intent of making another person feel stupid. (which I mentioned in the post)

4. Curiosity arises, obviously, when an anonymous commenter leaves a less than kind remark. However, that comment did not offend me as you may have expected. It furthered the point of my post. IN MY OPINION, it was a stupid thing to say.

5. Even though I have a site meter, I refuse to use it as a means to play detective and find the location, address, and telephone number of the anonymous commenter. I think it is extremely reckless and irresponsible to assume that I can pinpoint who is visiting my site at a particular time well enough to make a possibly false accusation. (I do appreciate all of you who chimed in quickly though, so that I wouldn't think it was you:-)

6. I respect and admire people who can have differences of opinion, express them in a way that defends their choices without denigrating the choices of others. You are always welcome to voice an opinion of opposition to the things that I write. I don't claim to write for you. My only request is that we attempt to stick to the topic- or at least only state your difference of opinion based on the topic I chose to write about. I am not able to fairly represent my views if I am being questioned about something I didn't even write.

7. A tip for posting anonymously....I will not deny that I have read things on other blogs that have irked me a bit (differences of opinions), and have been tempted to anonymously blast the writer. But then I am reminded, by what I would say is the Holy Spirit, that if I am tempted to comment anonymously it is probably something better left unsaid.

I'll stop now, because you probably were just skimming anyway and wish I'd use LESS words...sorry it's in my genetics.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts, they are always welcome here.

Super-size it please!

I recently visited with another mother of four. We seem to find each other in crowds...maybe it's the frazzled look, or the scanning eyes as we do a routine head count. Whatever. We were visiting about our kids, as mom's often do. She had four beautiful little girls. I asked her if she was ever asked the question, "Are you done yet? Or will you try for a boy?" I could tell by the look on her face that she had indeed been asked that question.

When Chad and I had just Nicholas and Olivia we often heard these sentiments, "Oh, how sweet, you have the perfect little family, a boy and a girl. Are you done now?" Said with a certain implication that we should be extremely thankful for our lucky gender success and stop NOW.

With the addition of another girl and another boy we went from the all American family to the SUPER-SIZED all American family. Now the sentiments have changed to, "Oh how sweet, you have two girls and two boys, surely you must be done."

I have such a difficult time coming up with a response to questions like that. My mother taught me that if I didn't have anything nice to say I shouldn't say anything at all...I think these may have been the times she was talking about. So usually I don't respond. I just smile as I bite my inner cheek. Praying that the wisdom of my mother outlasts the quickness of my tongue.

I have a friend with ten kids, yes 10...all fruit of her loins and all very spectacular people. She is an amazing mother, more of a mom to her brood then most of the mom's I know with only two. Anyway, you can about imagine some of the STUPID things she's been asked. But somehow she manages to smile her way through it and actually leave her interrogators speechless occasionally. My favorite response she gave was to this DUMB question, asked in a sarcastically snooty way: "Ten kids? You do know what causes that don't you?" My friend replied with, "Why yes I do, (then whispering) and actually I quite enjoy it."

I'm not trying to harp on every innocent person who unknowingly sounds like an idiot when they ask these questions. I know that some are just curious. Hey, I'm curious about a lot of things, but some things are better left as research projects on a Discovery Channel documentary. The sexual activity and reproductive habits of my husband and myself is not a topic of open discussion- unless of course I've had a few beers and am feeling talkative.... Why does it matter if we have more children? Are people afraid that if we continue to reproduce at the alarming rate in which we are, our children may consume the food supply quicker than it can be produced?

In the case of the family with four girls...what is this COMMUNIST CHINA? Are boys the only valuable life form here? Is the daughter she carries in her womb of less value suddenly because she is the fourth to be born to them? Would a son have had more reason for living? Carrie, help me out here. You are one of four daughters, did your dad suffer endlessly throughout his life because he did not have a son? Did you and your sisters carry a burden on your shoulders like none other because you felt the insignificance of your life as a girl? (my sentiments are the same for a family of all boys)

Am I being too dramatic? Possibly. It's just very frustrating when the size of my family becomes alarming to others. If I call you asking you to come take two off the roof, and one out of the dryer and to please locate the one who has been missing for three days...then you can be alarmed and SUGGEST that we think smaller family.

The booty....

If the profound creativity and writing is not enough, and the comical antics and one-liners don't sell you, then perhaps this will. No, not on reasons to read my blog...I'm not THAT arrogant. I'm talking about the greatest sitcom ever...SEINFELD. Have I mentioned that I am a Seinfeld fan? Not sure.....anyway.

You see before you the booty awarded me for knowing my Seinfeld trivia. Turtle hosted a contest a couple of weeks ago...and yes, I won. I think that there was another winner and a sore loser too....but we'll not mention them here.

Yes, you see before you the prize package that arrived in my mailbox. Before you freak out that I gave my home address to a complete stranger-turtle...let me just say that if you want to send me gifts, I'll give it to you as well. Here's my favorite:

-Tweety Pez dispenser...the point of the whole contest

-Tippy the turtle, who will grow 600% in size if you leave him in a glass of water. (my personal favorite)

Come on people, it pays to know useless information! Thanks Turtle. I always knew that the hours I spent watching and re-watching Seinfeld episodes would pay off someday!

On the road with the fam....

In the interest of keeping my foot as far away from my mouth as possible, I will show you some photos of the family and save the controversial topics for another day. Enjoy.

Writing skills....optional.

Thank you to all who were excited for me and this great opportunity I was given via my comment box on Thursday's post: "I am a New York Times bestselling author working on a new book about father-daughter relationships and thought you might want to contribute."

I was gone all weekend. With my family. Without a computer. When I called my mom to see how things were going, she asked if I had seen the comment on my blog from an author. Nope. I didn't have a computer. Immediately my skepticism arose, thinking, yeah right, my Pirate brother has probably found a way to torment me at a new level. But she assured me that it was legit. Dad had already been checking him out. Because I was far away from my home and computer I really had little choice other than wait patiently to get home and see what famous author was hand-picking me to write for his next best-selling book.

Let's break it down and see what opportunity I was given...exactly. Mr. Gregory E. Lang, as nice as he was to offer, found me through a random Google search in an attempt to further his writing project. No fault there. Ya do what you've gotta do. He hasn't been secretly admiring my work from afar waiting for the right time to contact me begging for my help with his next best seller. He typed in some key words, my blog popped up, he probably didn't even bother to read the latest post, left his comment and away he went.

Of course I clicked my way over to his site to see what he was all about. Thinking that it may be an opportunity to get my name out there, and take an active step toward the dream I have to write and get paid for it. I knew this wasn't the opportunity I'd been dreaming of when I read the following explanation:

"If you are a father or a daughter, I want to hear about your parent-child
relationship experiences. Please click the "Daddy's Little Girl" link above to
submit your story. No writing skills necessary, just send a note telling me
about your favorite father-daughter memories."

Okay, if the fact that I was asked by a random man to submit a story where WRITING SKILLS ARE NOT NECESSARY was not enough to convince me that I should forgo this great opportunity, then the small print that stated that Mr. Lang had the right to edit and re-work all submissions as necessary, did.

If writing skills are not necessary, then I'll just stick to my blog. Where at least I am the supreme goddess of editorship. And my work, as un-inspiring as it may be, can not be re-worked by a complete stranger to be given the sentiment that they wish to convey instead of my own.

If you feel qualified and wish to submit a story to Mr. Lang, here's the link.