Smiling Mom

Hi Ladies,

I did it.  I went to my esthe­ti­cian and got mic­ro­der­ma­bra­sion done, and wrote about it.  Head over to SVMB to check it out.

Today was an unu­sually inte­res­ting day.  BC had tons to say.

Here are just two snip­pets of his conversations:

This mor­ning I say, “Oh, I have to go to the bathroom.”

BC: Is it going to be a solid poop, Mommy?

Guess what I’ve been obses­sing about this week?

At the Vet’s office:

Vet: Do you like to dig in the back yard?

BC: Oh yes!  I have a garden.

Vet: What’s plan­ted in the garden?

BC: Root Beer.  Because like later or when I grow up I want to drink beer.

Insert me craw­ling under my chair and hiding my head under my arms!!!

BEER???  Seriously BC, that’s what you told the Vet we plan­ted in our gar­den?? Oh my gosh.  Are you trying to send me to an early grave?

Well we knew it would hap­pen even­tually. We just didn’t know when. Our 1100 sqft house just got a lot smaller.

Non­nie and Grandpa came to live with us. It was a hard sell, but as Hubby and I loo­ked around the ins­ti­tu­tion that they were living in, we deci­ded to open our hearts and our play­room to them.

It’s the least we could do.

Non­nie and Grandpa sleep a lot during the day and are up making noise all night long. Honestly there have been a few nights where I’ve nee­ded to put in ear­plugs just to drown out their sound.

Oh and let’s talk about their smell. Although they can bathe them­sel­ves, their habi­tat lea­ves something to be desi­red. Once a week I let them out of their room so I can clean, wash, and scrub every inch of it. They get so stinky so quickly.

But they are family, and it’s the least I could do.

Then tonight after some intense exer­cise, I told Non­nie and Grandpa it was time to get back into the play­room because frankly I was sick of the mess they were making around my home. Well unfor­tu­na­tely Non­nie felt that Grandpa was inva­ding her space and so she attac­ked him.

I broke up the fight.

It was the least I could do.

Now Nonnie’s ear is split in two and Grandpa is a bit bloody around his jugu­lar, but all is fine.

Hey, lis­ten. Fami­lies stick together. When someone needs a home, we will provide.

It’s the least we could do.

Meet Nonnie-she’s a he. We call her him our tran­nie ham­mie.

And Grandp-smaller but feis­tier, he’s a crowd favo­rite.

Kayla’s not so sure if she likes them or not. Most days she just tole­ra­tes their exis­tence.

But the kids are espe­cially thri­lled that Non­nie and Grandpa are here to say.

And to be honest, I don’t mind having them here either, stinky cage and all.

I want to paint this quote on my daughter’s bedroom wall, tat­too it on my forearm, and take it on as my own mantra.

Truly. Ama­zing.

Our dee­pest fear is not that we are ina­de­quate. Our dee­pest fear is that we are power­ful beyond mea­sure. It is our light, not our dark­ness that most frigh­tens us. We ask our­sel­ves, Who am I to be bri­lliant, gor­geous, talen­ted, fabu­lous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your pla­ying small does not serve the world. There is nothing enligh­te­ned about shrin­king so that other peo­ple won’t feel inse­cure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as chil­dren do. We were born to make mani­fest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in ever­yone. And as we let our own light shine, we uncons­ciously give other peo­ple per­mis­sion to do the same. As we are libe­ra­ted from our own fear, our pre­sence auto­ma­ti­cally libe­ra­tes others.

–Marianne William­son, 1992