I cannot tell a lie

So.... here's the story. It is so stinkin funny, and I can't seem to reach my husband, so I'm going to share it with you all.

On the way home from picking Vivianne up from kindergarten, Alex and Avalon were in the back of the minivan. Avalon was looking at a new Christmas entertaining/cook book I had bought. Talia was in the middle looking at a new catalog.

I heard a loud rip.
"Talia! Did you rip mommy's new catalog??"

The answer was no - it was Avalon in the back seat with my new book.

"Avi!!" I cry out. She feels bad and begins to cry.

Then it begins. (it gets real good. read the following with much drama and angist, and anger, and anguish)

Alex: "She ripped out a whole page!"  (me: where is it?)
"On her lap." (oh yeah? Hand it to me.)
"She threw it on the floor!"

If you haven't guessed yet, those were all lies. Yep. All three. One page still inside the book is half torn through.

"On her lap".... Puhhh- lease! What to do? A lot of the punishments we have tried don't seem to sink into our 8 year old boys little head. Hmmm...

I know. I was going to go old school. REALLY old school. Like 1890's kind of school.

When we got home, I asked him to grab a pad of paper and a pencil. At the top I wrote - I will not lie. I will not make stuff up.

Then I told him to write that 100 times, with each new set of sentences numbered.

This is where the story gets gooder.

He broke down and cried. Sobbed. 'I'm so sorry!! There was a paper, really, it just... disappeared.'
"100 times??? That's like... a BILLION words!!!!    100 times???? That is like, um, 200 sentences!!!' Feel the anguish in the words....

This is fantastic. I am laughing at the stove because the scene behind me would bring anyone into a fit of laughter, AND my boy is working on math!! Halelu!!

Then, he bargins over and over again - why 100 times? Why not 50 sentences, why not 20?  He gives in.  "Fine." he says subbornly. "I will write them, but I won't number them."

Oh yes you will I say.

"Fine. But I'm NOT going to have good handwriting!!!"

Oh yes you will, I say again. And I add that any sentence written with poor handwriting will be written again.

He's on number 34.
You can see how thrilled he is. Okay. You got me. These are from another, yet different pout. Kids...

My Vaccine Soapbox

This could be a hundred pages long. I can talk a lot, and I tend to write conversationally when I get going.

This won't be written like a medical journal, but instead from the heart of a mother.

It certainly won't be comprehensive, as I don't have the strength in my hands to type that long. But, if you want to comment, talk or share, you may. Shoot, if you really want to talk, we could meet. ;)

We don't vaccinate our children. .....anymore.
See, we used to. It is the American way. Our kids are safe if we do. All 'good' mothers vaccinate their kids. And.....so did I.

Until my son was two, almost three years old.
I have four kids. The first two have almost all their toddler vaccinations. The last two have (almost) none.  (research happens in stages with small kids)

I began researching like a nerd on speed at an Ivy League college when my son was two and a half. He has severe allergies to milk and beef, and eggs. Not lactose intolerant - no, he is allergic to the protein in milk and beef and eggs.

I began to research raw milk and goats milk. I really researched and learned about pasteurized milk. I was sold from my findings - we wouldn't drink processed milk anymore. I was hoping in the beginning of the process to see if there was a type of milk my son could handle. That would change our life. There wasn't, but I did find something in the process.

I found information about vaccines. A lot of information. So much so, we stopped giving them to our children.

I disagreed with the ingredients. Monkey organs, chicken embryos, mercury, thimerisol (a mercury preservative), aluminum, and human protein DNA from aborted fetuses. If that doesn't make you say eeewww.. There's more. I'm not writing a medical journal, so I'm not listing more, but I promise you, if you dig, there's more.

Here's something I learned just a few days ago actually. Which is why I'm writing. In almost every single shot there is bovine and egg protein. Let me say that again. Bovine and egg protein.

There is federal protection against vaccine makers. Your child's head could fall off after a vaccine, and there's nothing you can do. You can't sue them, you can settle with them. Nothing. Federal law protects them in every way.

I can't prove this, but I have a theory. When the number of vaccines went up, so did autism, allergies and asthma. I have two kids vaccinated. One was diagnosed with allergies and one with asthma. (the asthma has recently been out-grown. Praise the Lord!) The two kids without vaccines are perfectly well.

Did you notice, that my son is allergic to the protein of cows (milk and beef) and of eggs. And those are the exact two ingredients in all the shots he had. Now, let's think about this. You don't give a one month, two month or four month old baby cow's milk. And you certainly don't give them beef. Why??? Their little bodies can't handle it. That's why. Then why is it injected into them???

I am pretty convinced that if I hadn't given my son his vaccines, that he would be a child living a (more) normal life. A life filled with milk, cheese, butter, ice-cream, ballpark hotdogs, scrambled eggs, and cakes.

I pray he out grows this, or is healed from it. But I no longer think he was born with it.
click here to read about human fetus DNA in your vaccines

Dashiell Robert Parr

The new dog. We got a new puppy dog two days ago. Less than 48 hours ago to be exact.
It's going pretty well. Nobody I know is a fan of poop, or poop clean-up. However, I would like to take this moment to say how very very much I hate cleaning up poop that has been smeared into gates and tiles and puppy beds.


AAAGGGGHHH!!!!!

But he is a really cute dog. We call him Dash. I have this thing - ever since I was young, but old enough to name my own pets - I name them Disney names. I love Disney. I'm not a pet person. Perhaps it is a psychological way of making me like the animal more???? Regardless.... they get Disney names. Or today, Disney/Pixar names.

We considered Mater, Beast, Dash and Jack-jack. Alex (our son) wanted to name him Thunder - later we find out it's because the neighbor's dog is named Thunder!! (funny kid....)

Dash won out. But Patrick and I secretly call him Dashiell Robert Parr. Because it is funny to us, and because it's like using a kid's middle name.

Dash has a great temperament so far. He is 6 months old and we have four little, excited kids. The dog is handling us sooooo well!! He is calm, isn't yappy, hasn't snapped at all the little grabby hands, lets my daughter hold him hanging from her hip in a very 6 year old way all day - he will fit in nicely if he keeps up this mellowness. (Mommy just might keep him!! haha)

Resolute Resolution

We all make resolutions at the new year, don't we? Okay, okay, maybe some of us are 'above' that.... but I'm not. And I have never learned my lesson. Each year I make more and more new resolutions.

Sometimes they are really dumb. Here is my current dumb one: I want to be nicer. To whom?? you may ask? My kids. I can yell pretty quickly when say... one of them draws on the other ones face with my Sharpie marker. But I don't like the sound of my voice like that. (Whoa - childhood flash-back there...)

Point is, I can't be nicer just by being resolute. I need to probably talk to God about it. And learn that yelling won't get the marker off the face any faster.

Today is the 4th. But oh well, I'm setting a new resolution today even if I did miss the "cut off" date. If you have been reading this blog for any amount of time, you will get the sense I have a love-hate relationship with my house. I love that we have a house, yada yada, yada. I hate that it is not running at top speed due to clutter. Ugh..

I realized this many times last year, but once again today I shout it from the top of the mountain. (or just from the post on this little blog)

WE. HAVE. TOO. MUCH. STUFF.

There. I said it. Out loud. To someone other than my kids. I am dragging you along on my journey for less. Here's a profound thought: since we are finally done having kids, I can actually get rid of stuff that they outgrow!! Hallelujah!!

So here is my accomplishment for today: From the girls room I got rid of a sweater, two athletic jackets, a nightgown, and fleece pj's.

I know, I know... it's not much. But for today it will have to do. And it is a start. And you have to start somewhere. Right?

Happy New Year!!

We are about to enter a new decade. Wowsers. I mean, I know this is not new news to you. Everyone is aware of the upcoming new year. Duh, right?? But it is not just a new year this time, it is a whole new decade.

I consider myself to be young, so this is only the 3rd time I remember a decade change. I remember when the clock turned midnight and 1990 became the new year. Wow! I was twelve, what a cool year to become a teenager! Just after midnight I remember standing at our large front room picture window, hiding behind the long curtains staring into the street. There is a street light in front of my mom's home and it was lighting up all of the snow. It was really pretty. And really peaceful. I had deep thoughts. (that is not a joke) I truly was pondering what lay ahead for me in life and had a very 'grown up' moment for a twelve year old.

Next decade up: 2000. I won't soon forget that year. Patrick and I were on a mini "break". I went to a wedding that night, and since I was on a 'break', it made the wedding a little less fun. Especially since they played our song for their video montage. :( So not cool. (Don't worry, all is okay - we ended up getting married and he surprised me by singing that song to me at our wedding!) :)
We survived Y2K, I quickly got back together with Patrick... and life went on. I remember where I was at midnight though, and it was definitely the start of another decade I won't forget.

Here we are at 2010. Will this decade change be emblazoned on my brain like the other two?? I have four little kids. Will I pass out from exhaustion long before midnight and sleep through it?? Will it be anti-climatic just sitting on the couch watching Ryan Seacrest rock it out in Las Vegas and NYC?? I can tell you this... we have no big smashing glamorous party planned. We have none that we are invited to. Just us. But maybe that is the perfect combination. Maybe that will be my permanent memory for this decade. It is the first new decade Patrick and I will ring in together.....(thanks to that little break, but anyhoo.....)

So maybe just the two of us on the couch kissing at midnight with a rum and coke, or a cherry Pepsi, or sparkling cider in our hands is all the 'fantastic' memory I need. Either way, I'm looking forward to a whole new DECADE to explore and live out loud. I love getting 'older' because I like who I become every year more and more. If I can continue that trend, then life is good. Really good.

Little Drummer Boy

Feeling a little bit like the drummer boy today.

I love that song. Love it. Almost every rendition too.

Have you listned to it recently? The drummer boy has nothing to give the King. Ever feel like that??

I know my posts my seem kinda depressing lately. I'm not depressed. Just busy trying to clean a home, and thinking about my life.

The truth of it is, I am not the drummer boy. I have a rich, rich life... but sometimes we don't think we have it all so good.

My hubby is a Dr. that travels to people's homes to treat them there when they cannot get out to a doctor's office. He has helped so many people, and sometimes in critical moments, like the other day when he walked into a patient's home to find her on the floor. Who knows how long she would've been stuck there, unable to get up or call for help without him walking in on her. He is amazing in our family life too.

Then there is me. Stuck here. In the freezing cold. Attempting to clean a house. With 3-4 kids with me at all times. I offer what again??? I mean, we have learned from older posts that my cleaning skills are not so good apparently....
I'm not out reaching the masses. I have no big fancy public status. I don't have money to change someone's life.

My mind drew a blank. What did I have to offer the King?..... um.... just me. That's all. Maybe there is more that I can't think of, but still, right now, I can't think of something great I can do for the King. Frankly, I'm having a hard time thinking of a small thing I could give Him.

(Yes, yes, I know... raising kids for God is huge, important.... etc, etc. But when you're in the trenches and it feels like they are not 'hearing' you at all sometimes....)

So as I was rockin' around the kitchen this morning while that song played on the radio and I was feeding rice cereal to the baby, I could really relate to that little Drummer Boy.

All I have is me. Thankfully, that - is enough.