Ah... I wonder who she takes after?:):):)

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No, not yay for cold weather- Yay for a cold fridge!

After over a week without use of my kitchen refrigerator, the appliance repairman finally came again last night. At like 5:30 and after a couple phone calls to find out if he was still coming. He was scheduled to come between 3 and 5. BH wondered why he left his work meeting early to be home at 3 if the guy didn’t even show up!

I digress.

The repairman returned after a week. He brought the new computer board that was broken that had shut down the fridge. After replacing it, he then informs me that the refrigerator is still broken- that the compressor is fried, too. Visions of another week spent going to and from the garage for a cup of milk or for jelly to put on the sandwiches dance through my head.

These are not happy visions.

“Hear that hum and pop?” he says. “That’s not good. That means that the compressor isn’t working.”

But, alas, he was wrong. He eventually ran a double-check with a double-checker thingamajig. He put in a new relay thingamabopper and the compressor worked. So it wasn’t a fried compressor but, rather, a fried relay. He had a relay dealyschmealy in his truck, so he was able to replace it last night and not have to order another part.

What’s funny (not so ha-ha funny but more ironic funny) about the week-long awaited repair is that the part was shipped OVERNIGHT in the first place… because a broken refrigerator is a really big, important deal.

And because this made me laugh, here is a blip from Blessing #3’s bedtime prayer:

“…in Jesus’s name, Amen!.... wait, wait, wait. Oh yeah, and God? Thank you for this world because if you didn’t make us this world, then we’d all just be floating around in space. And then we wouldn’t be able to eat. And it’d be hard to get a drink. So thank you for this world! Amen!”

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Blessing #5 is three years old today! The little guy is all about his "Teddy." His Muggins and I found Teddy at TJ Maxx when he was itty bitty, and he has been totally attached to it from the beginning.

That said, it wasn't too surprising when he asked for a bear cake. This moma aims to please (when it comes to birthday cakes, at least!), so yesterday afternoon I baked the cake, and last night, after the kids went to bed, I put it together.

A doubled cake recipe baked in...
2 pyrex bowls
+2 coffee mugs
+1 small casserole dish
+4 cupcakes
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=1 teddy cake... and lots of dirty dishes!:)

But the result was worth it. He was very excited to come downstairs this morning and see his Teddy in the form of chocolate fudge cake and caramel frosting.

More pictures of the birthday celebratin' are sure to follow...
I just need to find where I put my camera last night after I took the pictures of the cake!

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Breakfast Friday morning and my three little students for "career day"--

Blessing #2 in Voice #1: Doctor! Doctor! We need a doctor!
Blessing #2 in Voice #2: I'm a doctor. What's the problem?
B#2 in V#1: Something is wrong with the patient!
B#2 in V#2: You're right. The patient has no heartbeat.

And I'm certain she was right. She had her sthethoscope against her cereal bowl.

Blessing #3 was a carpenter, so he wore his L'il Helper duds that he uses when working with daddy. Against his protests, this Monkey Moma replaced his real tools with a few plastic ones.

Blessing #1 wanted to be a teacher. The night before I asked her what she would dress in to be a teacher. She said, "just like what I wear everyday!" She most certainly planned it that way- that way if no one else in class was participating in career day, she wouldn't be embarrassed! Rather than send her to school with a pencil over the ear and a stack of textbooks- which she wouldn't have gone for anyway- I made her a school I.D. badge.

Blessing #6 even participated.

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As I am in the kitchen working on dinner for tonight, Blessing #4 asks if she can hold B#6, who has just eaten. She gets her out of the seat and carries her over toward the couch.

I hear a gurgly, loud baby belch.

I hear a shrilly squeal from B#4.

I look over at her. She looks over at me.

"She spit up, Moma. Awww... pickles. It's on the carpet, Moma."

I tell her it's okay, that I'll clean it all up.

I grab the baby from her, take B#6's pants off. I use my dish towel to wipe the chunky, milky spits from the baby, from B#4's shirt, from between B#4's toes, from B#4's feet, from the floor. After it's all cleaned, I tell B#4 she needs to take off her shirt.

"Moma. I am not a boy."

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In our house, so-called "bad words" are an interesting thing. To the outsider, it might often sound like we've got some kiddos with... ah, liberal language.

"Wahh! Moooo-oomm! She called me the 'B' word! The 'B-I-' word, Mom!"

The "B" being "Big ol' meanie."

"Moooo-oomm! He said the 'S' word to me! He did, Moma. He said the 'S-H-' word! I heard him!"

The "S" being "Shush."

Or take Blessing #3. Several months ago, he was going around hitting stuff with his superhero toy. "Bam! Bam! Bam it!"

I knew what he was saying, but it probably didn't sound that way. Without tainting his innocence in it all, I encouraged him to find another expression, telling him that it sounded a little like he was saying a not-very-nice thing and that we wouldn't want others to think he was talking that way.

More recently, as in yesterday, he dropped his pencil, grinned, and "fussed" about that silly dropped pencil... relaying his feigned frustration with the utterance of the "D" word. The real one.

From his moma's bugged-out eyes, I'm sure it was fairly obvious that what he said was not a good thing. The grin on his face got a little bigger, but now it was tinged with some embarrassment and guilt.

I picked my jaw up from the floor and we had the talk. The nice-boys-don't-want-to-say-that-kind-of-yucky-word-because-it-hurts-Moma's-ears-and-makes-Jesus-sad talk.

He apologized and said he wouldn't say it anymore.

We're driving home from Target tonight, and as we got stopped at yet another traffic light I gave a pirate growl, a semi-frustrated "argh."

From the backseat, he says, "Oh, bro-other..."

There's a bit of time while he reflects on what he's just said. "Mom? Is it okay for me to say that? To say 'oh brother?'"

Just in case it wasn't okay, he whispers out the last words in his teeny-tiniest voice.

"Yes," I say.

"What about 'oh man'? Is it okay for me to say that when we have to stop?"

"Yes," I say with a smile.

He thinks for a few more seconds. "Yup. We have to be able to say those things 'cause sometimes something happens and you start to say something else, but it's that one thing we shouldn't say, so we have to stop and change it into something else, so we say an okay word and don't say that bad one. Right, Moma? That's why God lets us say 'oh man' and 'oh brother.'"

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Blessing #3 came home from Kindergarten yesterday and was eager to get back to homework after a long Christmas break.

He sat at the table, and I gave him his homework box. As I worked in the kitchen, I would look over and see him from behind, working so intently. I was impressed with his focus, as he can get a little distracted with his homework... he likes to "decorate" the pages with scissor-cuts and the like.

The letter of the week is W, so he was saying W words that he could draw and cut out of the newspaper. He found a woman in an ad, and I heard the excited snip-snip of those little lefty scissors.

I went to the garage, and as I came back through the room, I got a good look at him hard at work.

I took a picture.

Look a little closer.

A little closer.

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Drivin' into 2009

It's January 1, 2009, which means that, even though we're 1,200 miles away, the aroma of a New Mexico New Year's Day is filling the house! Posole is on the stove; carne adovada is in the oven... the only thing that would make it better is to have some tamales, but that's not happening. I am done cooking for today!

I found Blessing #5 pounding sweet music on the piano (after hearing him, obviously!) and snuck around the corner to watch. I was met with a precious rendition of "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands."

He's got the whole world in the van;
He's got the whole world in the van;
HE GOT DA HO WOLD IN DA BAN!!!

If the disciples rode in a Honda (Acts 2:1 says so... at least according to King James!), then maybe God has an Odyssey.:):):)

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