Andrew has yet another ear infection. It's the third one in 6 week's time. The poor kid just can't get well. Needless to say, we will be looking into tubes for him soon. I'm going to call the ENT tomorrow. Yesterday, however, while the rest of the family enjoyed a picnic at Aunt Renee's house, Andrew and I were stranded at home. It was a beautiful day, so I decided to let him play outside as much as possible. We filled up his water table, and also his baby pool and just relaxed in the yard together for most of the day.

A little later, when we were inside, I noticed that Andrew had his thermometer. You know your child has been sick too much when he strips down and tries to take his own temperature as pretend play! He also took the temps of his bunny and bear. When I asked him what the thermometer said, he replied, "Woof woof!" Of course! A barking thermometer! Just what every house needs!

Yesterday we drove to Pittsburgh to celebrate my niece Ella's 3rd birthday. She had a bounce house and a Slip & Slide for the kids to play on, although Ella herself refused to enter the bounce house. The boys had a great time hanging out with their cousins and enjoying the great weather.






"Get some air, Andrew!"









Testing the water

"To heck with sliding! I'm thirsty!"

"Hmmm....what to do with all that water???"

"This is for me? Thanks!"

Hunting hats are in high demand during birthday parties.

Cooling off with a Popsicle.

Back Yard Fun

If you're anywhere around our neck of the woods, you know that it suddenly got very hot with no warning. On Wednesday, when I picked Jacob up from school, I asked him where his water guns were. He didn't know. Of course not, it's been a year since he used them! Then, almost without me even realizing what I was saying, I said, "well, let's go to Toys R Us and buy some. You can play outside tonight." So, instead of our usual routine, we spent the evening playing outside with water toys. We even ate dinner on the porch because we were too we to go inside and the boys weren't done playing! On Friday, my niece spent the afternoon with us, and we purchased a few more water guns to even out the rivalry. Even though it rained a little on Friday, the kids were still able to play outside and enjoy the weather. It was a fantastic appetizer for summer, and we are looking forward to our upcoming summer vacation (I have time off work and the boys don't have school). It will be so nice to sleep in (well, to 7 maybe!) and spend our days hanging out with friends and family in (hopefully) good weather. Summer is always busy for us, so I can't say that we will have any "lazy" days, but for now, that's OK. Bring on the fun!





Jake and the neighbor boys start the water mayhem!








"Mom! Jacob putzted!"









"Jacob! I can't believe you did that! That's disgusting!"









"Wow! A water table!"












Naked cooking isn't usually advisable, but in this case, I think it was OK.

"Now, you thprinkle a little thinnamon over the top and viola! Delishish cookies!"






And Jake's concoction is...













Look out, dry people everywhere!

Kid Speak

Ah yes....it's time again for some stories of the boys. Let's get started:

A few weeks ago, Greg had a guy spread fresh mulch outside our house. Although he asked specifically NOT to have mushroom mulch, that's what the man got for us. Ever since I was pregnant with Jacob, the smell of mushroom mulch has nauseated me. I find it absolutely repulsive. The good news is that the stench eventually fades. It's gone now.

When I we arrived home from school the day of the mulch spreading, Jacob commented immediately upon getting out of the car. "Oh Mom! What's that SMELL?" I explained the mulch to him, and he responded, "Oh! It's so gross! I can smell it in my mouth!" How eloquently put, I thought! Haven't we all experienced something so putrid we felt like we could taste it? Ugh! Poor kid. I felt his pain too!
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One day Jacob looked at me and said, "Was Andrew born with an outside voice?"

Yes, dear. In fact, he was.
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A few nights ago, when I was putting Jacob to bed, he said, "3x3=9."
"Yes, it does," I said. "Are you working on times tables already?"
"No, a second grader told me that in the bathroom today."
"Oh. OK."
"He blocked me from coming out of the bathroom. When I went left, he went left. When I went right, he went right."
"Who was this kid? Do you know his name? That's not very nice to trap someone in the bathroom."
"I don't know his name, but I didn't really mind. I got to learn some useful information. Now, when I go to second grade, I will already know that 3x3 is 9."

Apparently now, the trend in bullying is to force knowledge down the throats of the victims! Who knew!
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Hollidaysburg has notoriously bad sidewalks. There are potholes everywhere. A few days ago, Jacob decided to ride his scooter around while Andrew and I walked. He was contemplating riding down a pretty steep hill, and I advised him not to do that. He looked at me and said, "Mom, it's not the hill that I'm worried about. It's all these chest holes in the sidewalk! They're the problem!"
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A few nights ago Jacob and I noticed some sounds coming from the attic. Not wanting to scare him, I told him that I thought it was a squirrel. We got Greg, who tried to find the animal without success. The next two nights, we didn't hear any more sounds, so we assumed that it was gone. While putting Jacob to bed, I said, "I guess the animal left, which is good because animals can do a lot of damage if they get inside your house."
"Like what, Mom?" he said.
"Well, they pee in your house. They chew apart your walls, and they bring all kinds of garbage in from outside to make their beds."
"Oh yeah," he said very seriously. "You know what would be the worst animal to have in your attic?"
"What?"
"A beaver! Did you ever see what a beaver does to make its house?"
"Wow! I never thought of that. I think you're right. A beaver would be a very bad animal to have in the house, but I don't think there's a beaver in the attic."
"Yeah," he said, "the animal in the attic sounded much smaller than a beaver."
"Exactly."
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Andrew now thinks that his middle name is Terminex. I say this because he has taken on a personal mission to rid our house of pests. It's become an obsession not quite as severe as his infatuation with vacuums. We have ants right now, typical for this time of year. Instead of stepping on them, or smashing them, Andrew picks them up and carries each of them individually to the garbage can. I find this particularly disturbing, because sometimes he rips them in half before throwing them away. This morning, he ate one. I caught him gagging and said, "What did you eat?" He said, "Ew. Gog (his word for bug). Ant. Eat it." This is yet another phase which I pray ends as quickly as it started.

A few days ago, he came to me, pinching something between his forefinger and thumb. "Ew. Dirty. Gross. 'Sugsting," he said. He does this quite often and it is usually a feather from a pillow or some kind of fuzz. I said, "put it in the garbage." He went to the garbage can, opened his hand and away flew his garbage. He had caught a fly! Greg and I were astounded, and Andrew was monumentally disappointed that his dirt was flying away. He pointed at the ceiling, yelling, "Dirty gross sugsting!" It took some redirection, but we were eventually able to distract him. A few hours later, he walked into the kitchen pinching the same fly! This time, however, the fly was significantly mangled from Andrew's handling and when he dropped it, instead of flying away, it frantically circled the kitchen floor. What cat-like reflexes Andrew has to catch a fly...twice!

A Day Of Reflection

There are so many thoughts going through my head tonight that I don’t know where to begin. How about at the beginning? Well, the beginning of the day, that is.

I started off this morning, standing in the shower, noticing how my much fatter thighs stuck together while I was simply standing there. I've gained almost 15 pounds since going off of the headache medications. While I feel well physically, I am disgusted at my appearance these days. It’s not the first time in the last two months that I have been disgusted by myself. Old demons are hard to kill. My demons are deep seated body image fiends. They hate me. They tell me to do terrible things - to starve myself thin again, and to exercise for long hours despite the knee pain. They whisper horrific criticisms about my body and encourage me to buy diet pills, to start smoking again to suppress my appetite and boost my metabolism. They say other things too, which I can’t even bear to type, let alone speak out loud. They are firmly anchored in my brain and try as I might, year after year, I cannot dislodge them. They've taken up residence and don't intend to leave. No, I’m not doing any of the things they want. I understand that those behaviors are what got me in such a mess of health trouble not too long ago. Nonetheless, every day when I slip out from under my covers, as my feet hit the floor, I also draw my mental sword against my self-created enemies. Damn them, they won’t die. I drag them with me everywhere I go like a lead ball and chain.

This afternoon I looked on the blog of a friend of mine who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. She’s only a few years older than me. Her only daughter is 5 years old and also goes to Harbor House. Her prognosis isn’t the worst, but it isn’t great either. She will hopefully make a full recovery, but she has a long road ahead of her. Today she traveled to Pittsburgh to have a double mastectomy. As I read her journal of emotions about the upcoming procedure, thoughts of my own body seemed so insignificant. Here is a woman who is losing both breasts. Not only will she have to contend with the loss of identity that comes with losing a part of her body that is so distinctly female, but she will also have to go through physical therapy just to regain the simple movements of her chest, neck and arms. I think many of us have pondered the emotional challenges behind losing our breasts, but I never considered the mere physicality of it. She will begin with simple neck movements and when she has mastered those, she can move on to shoulder shrugs, reaching forward, crossing her arms, things we all do hundreds of times every day and never think twice about.

I spent the rest of the day thinking about Sherry and her surgery, her daughter and her husband. They didn’t leave my mind for a moment. How would it feel to be facing death at my age? How would I change my interactions with my children, my husband, my family and friends if I knew my final days may be approaching? When I got in the car today after work, the song “Live Like You Were Dying” by Tim McGraw was on the radio. How appropriate, I thought. A man in his 40’s with a terminal diagnosis who not only overcame it, but also recommends the attitude changes that accompany such a travesty. Maybe it was a sign, maybe just a coincidence. Either way, it gave me hope, and made me chose my words carefully this evening with my kids.

As if those two things were not enough to chew over, when I called Greg tonight, he had received devastating news about one of his co-workers. The man’s 16 year old daughter was killed in a car accident this evening. As Greg said, his whole life changed in a matter of seconds. In the blink of an eye, her life was erased, his daughter was gone. I know people who have lost children, and I often think of the life a person must lead after the death of a child. It’s a nauseating notion to consider; your life minus your child. I’m not sure that a parent’s heart could ever truly heal from such bereavement. If your mother or father, husband or wife dies, you grieve. You may grieve a very long time, but you find the strength to go on and eventually your life returns to a different kind of normal. How on earth would your life ever be normal without your child? I would be constantly reminded of a life too soon extinguished, a promise of the future left unfulfilled. Such a gaping hole in a parent’s heart would be impossible to repair. My prayers go out to Dave and his family at this time. May God reach down to comfort them, and may they somehow find peace amidst such tragedy.

Life isn’t meant to be spent worrying about appearance, working extreme hours, hyper-cleaning our houses or buying big and flashy items. We are here to love one another, to create positive memories with one another and to find gratitude in the simplest things life has to offer. Gratitude. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. That’s what it all boils down to. If we are truly grateful, we can’t help but be happy. Living a life of gratitude suffocates our inner demons. It takes away the air they breathe by filling that space with joy. It gives us the fulfillment we need to pay our blessings forward and reach out to those who need encouragement. But even the most grateful people need reminding of their blessings from time to time. Today was a blatant reminder for me. I am grateful most importantly for my family and for my family’s health and well being, but I’m also grateful for a job when so many people are jobless, for enough food to make me plump when many people are starving, enough money to afford some of life’s luxuries when there are others who are penniless, for a God who loves me and has not only bestowed all these blessings upon me, but who also gave me the ability to articulate just how blessed I am.

And I am grateful for tomorrow, another day, another chance to squeeze my babies, to love my husband, to call my mom and to have coffee with a friend. These days are not infinite, and I don’t plan to waste them.

Horticulture Envy

I have always been envious of people who have a green thumb. Well, that's not exactly true. I should say that I have always been envious of the beautiful lawns and landscaping of people who have a green thumb. While I undoubtedly possess a brown thumb myself, I also do not find any enjoyment in yard work, planting or caring for plants. Maybe the plants can sense my disdain and wither as a result of it.

My parents have had gardens galore for as long as I can remember. In the back yard, my dad has a rose garden, a vegetable garden, and two large planters at the edge of the yard. Then they have the patio area, with a decent sized fish pond and water garden, which is surrounded by flowers and plants. Along the side of the house is a huge bed of Hastas and in the front of the house, in addition to the hanging baskets, flower boxes and potted plants on the porch, there are two medium sized flower beds as well. My parents get compliments from friends and strangers alike every summer. It really is beautiful.

One would think that perhaps some of their knowledge would have trickled down to me, but unfortunately it hasn't. I have seen all the work that goes into their yard every year and somewhere along the line I decided that it just wasn't for me. I don't like getting dirty in the first place, even when it has a clean outcome, and I really don't want to get dirty when I know that all my efforts will literally wilt away within a matter of weeks.

Nonetheless, we have recently been adding some plants to increase the curb appeal of our house. Actually, it doesn't have much to do with curb appeal. I love our house just the way it is. Greg started putting up a fence, a necessity for the master climber, Andrew. In doing that, he wanted to plant ground cover around the outside of it. My mother bought him some of the plants he wanted but he's not ready to put them in yet, so instead of letting them die, I decided to plant them elsewhere. Perhaps I have sentenced them to a worse fate than just getting root rot while waiting for Greg. I swear that I can kill a plant by just looking at it!

Today while Andrew napped, I planted the ground cover - phlox, I believe it's call. I also planted two other flowering plants that Jacob picked out for me for mother's day. I took special care to follow all of the instructions on the little plastic dagger they send with the flowers, but I couldn't help but think, all the while I was digging, that it was just another pointless endeavor. However, I have been trying to keep my hopes up. It will look nice if it takes, and I have been able to keep our hanging baskets as well as some planted Impatients alive and well for about a month now. That's a good sign, right? Perhaps my thumb is coming to life after all. There was a time when the only thing I could cook was Kraft Macaroni & Cheese, and those days are long behind me. I'm actually not too bad in the kitchen these days. (Don't tell my in-laws that, though! I like taking Pepsi and chips to all the family gatherings they have! Just kidding, they read the blog. Damn, I'm busted!) Perhaps in aging, I am also becoming domesticated, a cook and a gardener. I'm certainly already a maid! Keep your fingers crossed for me, that this is not another summer of flower execution in the Williams household!


One of our hanging baskets. I think this flower is beautiful. I really hope it doesn't die.

A plant out front that just keeps coming back on its own. These are the kind I need more of!

The new row of phlox. Unfortunately the man who put our mulch down didn't put the same color as we had last year. I couldn't tell which was black and which was brown and just wet when I was planting. I can tell now...looks like a trip for a little extra mulch is in order! See what I mean! More work!

One of the plants Jacob picked for me.

Andrew planted me these for Mother's Day. No, I have no idea what the names of any of these flowers are...even the common ones!

Mother's Day

Last weekend, I took Jacob shopping for a Mother's Day gift for my mom. When he initially looked through the cards, he was picking ones that were from a man to his wife, and I had to redirect him to the "grandmother" section. He grabbed a card and handed it to me, and I said, "No, this is for great-grandmothers. You don't have a great grandmother." Although the words didn't phase him, and he was able to go on to perusing appropriate cards, the statement left a bitter taste in my mouth. I felt as if I were betraying my grandmothers by saying he didn't have a great grandmother. I suppose it would have been better to say, "your great grandmothers are no longer living." Jacob doesn't know the difference, but I do.

Mothers come in all forms, don't they? There are strict and structured mothers, loose and carefree mothers, moms who are somewhere in the middle. There are grandmothers raising their grandchildren, grandmothers who live next door and see their grandchildren every day, and grandmothers who barely interact with the kids. There are aunts raising nieces and nephews, adoptive moms, foster moms, women who we simply look up to as moms. They all have a place in our hearts.

My life has been enriched by a large network of strong women. From the moment I was born, I had the advantage of having not only my mother's love, but also the love of both of my grandmothers, not to mention my aunts and many extended family members and friends. My boys are equally as blessed. Death does not remove a woman's influence on her descendants. Her legacy is passed on through the lessons she taught, the morals she instilled, and the stories we recount of her living days. Both of my grandmothers' values and integrity will be passed down from generation to generation like a family heirloom, and their memory will live on for years to come.

I often wonder what the future will hold, how the days will play out. Will my boys grow to be as close to me as I am to my mother? Will they move far away or stay nearby? What would it be like to have a grandchild? I can only guess about the specifics, but there is one thing I know for certain. I see the same beautiful relationship between my children and my mother as I had with my grandmothers. I am sure that whatever time brings to us, as my children age, they will be filled with stories and memories of my mother to pass down to the next generation. That is how the legacy continues, Jacqueline to Kristina to Koelle to Jacob and Andrew...and so on and so forth. This is the best Mother's Day gift of all, a bond beyond articulation, a true blessing from God.

Happy Mother's Day to all of the mothers and grandmothers out there. Your work is never done, and the light from your love never dims.

The Weekend

Test driving Dad's boat.









Whoa! Too much momentum!









Yes, Andrew, DIVE onto the slide.








Slip & Crawl...








Ella employs the same tactic.








"Hurry! Plug the holes! It's leaking!"








Andrew gets his fashion sense from Pap!













"Dylan, that's one fine tree we planted."

Reading at the Arbor Day ceremony.