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We saw this video at church today as a reminder that as Christians, we are constantly wearing a sign on our backs (like it or not) that says "Watch Me" because we have claimed to be Christians.

While the quality and the effects of the video aren't fantastic, the message is great. Please watch to the end.

I hope we can all, Christian or not, remember the message of this video next time someone cuts us off in traffic, someone speaks rudely to us while checking out, someone fails to use common sense and inconveniences us, an elderly person is going to slow for our liking or people are just irritating us in general.

KEEP BELIEVING

kids today ...how good they have it

When I was a kid, I remember my parents giving me their sob stories of how good we kids had it these days compared to their lifestyles when they were kids – stories of being raised on a farm doing chores like milking cows and bailing hay and cooking for the entire family and cleaning up and gathering eggs and butchering chickens. When I was a teenager my parents spoke of how spoiled we were and didn’t even realize it because when they were kids they didn’t have their own cars unless they paid for it and they rarely got new clothes and shoes, as they didn’t have the money for it. When I was in college, my parents told us how lucky we were to have parents paying for a college education, and damn right they have every right to expect certain grades and behavior as long as they are paying for it no matter how independent we think we are now, and how many more credit hours were required 25 years ago for the same degree, and how my dad hitchhiked 4 hours back to school, and how they worked in lieu of or while attending college themselves.

And I did like any kid, teenager and college student does. I rolled my eyes, snarled my nose and said something sarcastic.

But you know what? I knew they were right. I knew I had it easy compared to their lives as kids. I really did. I also knew that I didn’t have as much privilege and material things as many of my peers. I struggled with that a bit, but in my head, I knew I still had it good compared to many and especially compared to my parents.

I really didn’t think that there would be too much room for me to have these stories for my kids. Mainly because, I was going to demand many of the same things from my kids as my parents did from me with respect to responsibility, earning my keep, and helping/contributing to the family. But, I can already tell you, I can see how much more spoiled kids are these days than even we were as kids.

Here are some of the things I find myself thinking or saying comparing and contrasting my lifestyle as a kid to theirs. And YES, I realize these are ridiculous.

1. When I was a baby, we were in an infant seat and car seat until we were 3. Then we crawled around the backseat like it was the cockpit of our private spaceship. I am still alive.





2. When I was a kid, we had to arrange pick up and drop off places ahead of time. We had to have spare change on hand for an emergency PAY PHONE call just in case. We knew how to call collect if we needed to. All because this little thing called a cell phone did not exist.





3. When I was a kid, we made it through an ENTIRE SOCCER game without a snack. We even made it all the way home until we could be met with a made from scratch dinner after WE set the table or until we could be met with a healthy snack. Also, we drank WATER, not Gatorade or PowerAde from a plastic bottle, no, WATER from this amazing thing called A THERMOS.




4. When I was a kid, I did not get a Capri sun in my lunch every day. I was to drink the milk the school provided or I was to drink WATER (from a thermos).





5. When I was a kid, when we waited for the bus, we actually LEFT OUR HOMES and went to the bus stop. We did not watch from our windows as the bus stopped every 3 houses waiting for poor over-sleeping, cold kids who refuse to wear a coat because they think it makes them look UNCOOL.





6. When I was a kid, we actually RESPECTED and MINDED our teachers in school because if we got in trouble at school, we were going to get in bigger trouble at home unlike the kids of today whose parents are constantly making excuses for their children’s unacceptable behavior while undermining teachers’ diminishing authority.





7. When I was a kid, McDonald’s was fun just because. Not just because it had a playland. Playlands did not exist.





8. When I was a kid, eating out in general was a huge treat. We loved it because it was exciting and different. We behaved at restaurants, too, because WE WERE EXPECTED TO.





9. When I was a kid, we went outside and played games we invented. We ran and chased and pretended. We didn’t have elaborate play-structures in our backyard and a third garage stall full of nothing but rarely touched children’s toys.





10. When I was a kid, we watched TV at night with our families to wholesome shows that were not inappropriate for kids under the age of 15 to witness on 1 of 4 network channels. Cable did not exist until I was in late grade school. Even then, there was one kid channel for many years. We didn’t even have a remote control until I was in grade school. Oh yeah, when MTV first came out, they aired really cool things called MUSIC VIDEOS instead of brainwashing liberal media.





11. When I was a kid, I started out listening to my music on this thing called VINYL until a new technology called CASSETTE took off. Then, when I was in college, I started using CD’s. We had BOOM BOXES and walkmans if we wanted to take our music with us and we didn’t hide behind earbuds when any social situation arose.





12. When I was a kid, we did this amazing thing with our friends – we TALKED. We didn’t IM or text. If something was urgent, we TALKED WITH URGENCY instead of using all caps or extra exclamation points. We left messages on each other’s locker chalkboards, not on their facebook wall.





13. When I was a kid, we kept score at our sporting events. We even had a running tally called STANDINGS and the winners were given trophies. Not every kid was given a trophy just because they participated. It did this great thing – it weeded out kids who really didn’t want to be playing and it made it MORE AFFORDABLE. Also it helped us learn at a very young age that sometimes life doesn’t go exactly the way you want it to no matter how hard you try, but you have to keep trying because maybe next time it will.

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all images courtesy google images.

all 5-1/2 of my shoe size

To all the retailers and manufactures of clothing that continue to downsize or eliminate the petite selection and department in favor of expanded or newly created plus size departments (regular plus, girls plus and now JUNIORS plus):

My 61 inches of height and all 5-1/2 of my shoe sizes would like to formally tell you:

YOU SUCK!

Signed,
Angie @ KEEP BELIEVING who is being forced to pay full price on line for anything to fit these days.

MRI results

First of all, many of you have expressed concerns as to why I was at the doctor last week. It was just a new appointment to meet a new doc. I am on my 3rd doctor at this practice in 5 years. They keep leaving. I have a spot on my leg that looks sort of like a mole that I wanted to get checked out because it really isn't a mole. Anyway, it looks like a something or other cyst, only give it some Latin name and you got it. It is nothing. It is basically like a scar tissue that has grown inward instead of outward, but I wanted to be sure, so I also went to the dermatologist. So, LITERALLY 110 seconds and 110 dollars later I am sure. That is all. Now I am off to insure my life while it is still insurable for my kids' future.

Secondly, we had the best time evah! at the Cardinals game with Matt and Mindi on Friday night. The worst part of the entire evening was the fact that we had to get up at 8:00 the next day to leave by 9:00 to be at the wedding BACK in Peoria on Saturday. And I will say that Mindi made up for at least half nine months of sobriety during her pregnancy in THAT ONE NIGHT. Holy Cow! That girl has a hollow leg! AND she kept farting. At the ballgame! And it smelled like Mom and Dad's septic system after a large family gathering before they added onto it. Just sayin'.

Brian had an oncologist appointment today. He had his 8 week MRI last week and the results were read to us today.

There is a small area of change in the tumor bed, meaning the area that the tumor we treated with gamma knife is located- the area we watch closely each scan. The area grew from 29 mm (about an inch) to 35 mm, so a growth of 6 mm, from last MRI to this one (in 8 weeks). The area does not have any swelling around it which is good, but it is difficult to say what the change is from. With an MRI of the brain, tumor does not look very different from other abnormalities like dead cells or scar tissue. Typically, with radiation the largest changes of necrosis (dying cells) and scar tissue will show up at around 6 to 18 months. Brian is 17 months POST radiation (late April 2007 in California), so the changes COULD be from radiation induced scarring. USUALLY, tumor progression is accompanied with other swelling which Brian does not have. HOWEVER, the Avastin he takes as part of this chemotherapy protocol also reduces that swelling, so it is difficult to say for sure.

Clinically, Brian is doing well. He tolerates the chemo (Avastin and CPT-11) pretty well, and his blood counts remain normal. He is not deteriorating with respect to his neurological functions, but he does not improve. He has some difficulties speaking. His right side does not work great - his hand and arm being the worst. He cannot feel his right side the same as his left side. All these things are the same as post surgery and rehabilitation. They are stable from where they were several months ago, given that on any day he may do better or worse with any one of these functions.

Because he is doing fine clinically and his change was so small and cannot be identified exactly, his oncologist recommends continuing on this course of Avastin and CPT-11. He is getting treatment as I write this. The brain tumor board will review Brian's scans this evening at their meeting.

So, that is about it. Not exactly the news we wanted to hear, but whatever. I don't really know what to say. It is nothing earth-shattering, but it isn't devastating, either, so there you go.

Can you tell I don't really know how to feel about it?

Brian says he feels good, so whatever. Besides, we don't know what the growth is, exactly.

Anyway, please pray for Brian to continue to heal and to feel good.

Please pray for a miracle, because in the end that is what we need.

KEEP BELIEVING

what to expect from us the next week

Here is our schedule from last Monday to next Wednesday:

Monday, September 22: wake up, work out, pack for school, get kids off to school, go to doctors appointment (Angie). Frantically find babysitter for availability at 2nd opinion doctor’s appointment (Angie). Go back and give blood with first doctor after 2nd opinion doctor’s appointment (Angie) because they forgot to take it earlier. Do some math with Gavin. Shove edible substance down my and children’s throats. Go to Grant’s soccer game. Come home. Shower. Read with kids. Go to bed.

Tuesday, September 23: wake up, work out, pack for school, get kids off to school, go to first Mom’s group at church for the year, do homework with Grant. Do homework with Gavin. Shove something edible down my and the boys’ throats. Brian has MRI. Go to Gavin’s soccer game. Come home. Shower. Read with kids. Go to Bed.

Wednesday, September 24: wake up (late), pack for school, get kids to school, work out. Pick up bagels and spend some time with a couple friends for an hour. Have a couple hours in afternoon to self – spend it returning some recently bought items and gifts. Realize I forgot half the items and will have to repeat during Thursday morning’s free time when boys are at school. Do homework with Gavin. Shove edible substance into my and the boys' throats. Go to Grant’s soccer clinic. Do not pass go and continue directly to Wednesday evening church service. Come home. Shower. Read with kids. Go to bed.

Thursday, September 25: wake up, work out, pack for school, get kids to school, return forgotten items from Wednesday run. Come home. Spend time with one sister-in-law to plan another sister-in-law’s baby shower. Pack (see Friday). Do homework with Gavin. Shove edible substance into my and the boy’s throats. Go to Gavin’s soccer practice. Leave soccer practice 20 minutes early to attend First Grade Family Math night in sweltering hot gym (which according to the note home today will mostly be spent on the floor doing math games with the kids. Please kill me now.) Come home. Shower. Read with kids. Go to bed.

Friday, September 26: wake up, work out, pack for school, get kids to school. Finish packing. Watch nephew for a few hours while sister-in-law plays tennis. Leave for St. Louis for a Cardinal game and an UNEXPECTED NIGHT AWAY! Rest assured the children are fine with Grandma and Grandpa. Relax and have fun at the first major league baseball game we have attended since CHILDREN SEVEN years ago.

Saturday, September 27: leave early to attend 12:30 wedding of cousin BACK in PEORIA (3 hours away from St. Louis). Attend 4:00 reception later. No time for work out.

Sunday, September 28: Scramble around to get ready for church after sleeping in from late wedding the night before. Rest. Work out. Unpack. Clean. Shower. Read with kids. Go to bed.

Monday, September 29: Wake up, pack for school, get kids to school. Get ready for Brian’s chemo appointment where we also get MRI results.

Rinse, lather and repeat crazy evening church and soccer schedules until November.

Getting in a blog post doesn’t seem likely for a while. I will update results on Monday, though.

KEEP BELIEVING

The miracle of Gavin

(In the spirit of Gavin's birthday, I decided to use this letter I had INTENDED for his birthday post as a Miracle Monday post instead. I hope the story of how Gavin came to be part of our world encourages you this Monday.)

Gavin,

You don’t remember this. How could you? You were in your birth mommy’s tummy. July 2001, JUST prior to heading out of work early for a funeral, I received a phone call at my desk. I’ll never forget it. It was Memaw (to be). “Angie, umm, hey, I wanted to tell you something. Aunt Judy works with a girl who is 4 or 5 months pregnant. She didn’t know she was pregnant until recently. She wants to put the baby up for adoption and is looking for someone. Do you and Brian want to do it?” I kid you not, Gavin. That is how your journey into our lives began. “Mom, I have no idea. I don’t think you can just DO that. I have to talk to Brian about it.” I picked up Daddy for the funeral and told him about this crazy call I got from Memaw today. “Cool,” he said. “Let’s go for it.”

I didn’t even know how to process all of this. I mean, we tried a few cycles of insemination in 2000 to no avail and our first in-vitro attempt in April 2001 failed. Gavin, we had put our deposit down just one week prior to this phone call to try in-vitro again. I mean, who would give a baby to a couple when one of the parents had a history of cancer years ago? I didn’t know it was an option. I didn’t know I wanted to have a family that way. I wanted to carry a baby and didn’t know how I felt about all this.

So we did what we always do in confusing situations. We consulted our families and we prayed. We asked for guidance and wisdom and direction. And we felt vehemently guided to explore this adoption option further.

I made the phone call to Aunt Judy. She told me your birth-mommy, whom I will call Rose, was actually 7 months pregnant, due in September. She was a pretty girl, only 18 and she had been to Catholic Social Services and didn’t like them. They wouldn’t promise her that her baby would go to the family she chose (which was probably misunderstood). She wanted to meet the people and know them. Next I called Rose. I had to call her at work on her next working day since she didn’t have a home or a cell phone. It was a Saturday night. She was sweet with her southern accent and poor grammar. She was willing to meet with us as soon as we wanted. We drove 4-1/2 hours one way the very next day on a Sunday to meet your birth mommy and her husband.

We met at Applebee’s. We ordered chips and salsa. I will never forget how they were in such awe of the blue chips that came with the order. We exchanged pleasantries. We talked a bit. She told us you were a boy. She told us you were due Sept. 14. We told her about Daddy’s history. He had been free of cancer for 2 years now and no more chemo. They were okay with it. We told her about ourselves and our lives. We said we would help with some living and medical expenses and we wanted to adopt her baby if she was okay with it, but to let us know after they had thought about it. They didn’t need to think about it. They said, “Fine with us,” right there in that Applebee’s in July 2001. We stopped and told your future Memaw and Papa and drove 4-1/2 hours home reeling with new emotions.

We secured a lawyer in Missouri where the adoption would occur and began the process of home-study approval in Illinois. It was complicated because of Daddy’ history. We had to be counseled as though we were a possible single parent family and had to get statements of health from current doctors. AND we had to rush the process. You were due in mere weeks. We didn’t even know if we would be approved before your arrival and if you were born before the first of September, we would not have you. You would have been in foster care or you would have been placed with someone else unless your birth mommy wanted to parent you until our paperwork was finished and then let us take over. And come on? She couldn’t have done it. No one could have. You were too irresistible.

I talked with Rose weekly. We financially assisted them. They were an impressionable, sweet and confused young couple living in a world of constant financial struggles with a lack of mentoring and good guidance. It was a vicious cycle that broke our hearts. They were troubled, and even if nothing came through with the adoption, as was always their right, we were glad to be helping them. We wanted to help them.

Fast forward two months. September 10th or so, Rose had an appointment showing she was nowhere near dilated and ready for delivery. She was scheduled for induction on September 20. September 11, 2001, the world trade centers collapsed. I was so glad you weren’t born surrounding that. I was so glad we could drive to the hospital since airlines were shut down for a while. I couldn’t wait to meet you.

September 19th I packed my desk at work, praying I would be on leave (perhaps indefinitely) from a job I didn’t love holding my new baby boy. We drove to Missouri and stayed with Uncle Matt and Aunt Mindi. They lived a few minutes from the hospital. September 20th, early in the morning, Rose was induced. It began slowly. The potossin was increased. They broke her water to speed things up. Around 6:00 pm, the nurses started to get “that look.” That look I had recognized from too many hospital experiences years prior. Your heartbeat was beginning to drop. You were under some sort of distress. I saw the concern, but I don’t think Rose did. I didn’t tell her so as not to alarm her. She was instructed not to push until they called the doctor. They did. The doctor came in and said, “let’s try this.” Rose let us stay. A room full of nurses, nursing students, Rose, her husband, her OB, Daddy and me awaited your delivery. This is the closest I have ever been to delivery and I don’t remember much of it because I was nervous beyond nervous about what came next and what was wrong. As you came out, your face was a tint of blue and the cord was wrapped around your neck. Rose’s doctor immediately cut the cord from your neck and you began whimpering a bit with the next push. You began to scream. You were shivering. You were thin. You were amazing. It brings swells of tears to my eyes today to think I was there and I saw you breathe your first breath.

The staff was unsure how to handle our situation. Who holds you first? Who cuts your cord? Once I saw you were healthy with a reasonable APGAR score, my attention turned to the next thing that could go wrong, because, unfortunately, Gavin, that’s the way your mommy roles. Rose immediately asked to hold her baby once you were clean. She held you and started to cry. My mind raced knowing there was no way she COULDN’T change her mind now that she met you. She held you for a few minutes, turned to me and asked if I wanted to hold you. With tears in my eyes and a half-smile on my face, I touched your flesh for the first time. I said hi to you and told you I would take good care of you. Daddy held you next and we passed you back to your birth-mommy.

Your birth-grandma called. She sobbed into the phone for me to promise to take good care of her grandbaby. She was a bit of an expert on this as another daughter had placed more than one child for adoption as well. This family blessed with the ability to bear children was blessing those of us that can’t. Rose cried some more. Daddy and I left her alone for a few minutes. Daddy began calling his family exclaiming he was a Dad. “Seven pounds 2-1/2 ounces… 20 Inches long… His name is Gavin Brian… Ten fingers... Ten toes... One penis... He’s awesome...” It was all I had to make one phone call to my sister who was currently hosting my parents for dinner. I curtly gave her the stats and the name. I told her Rose was crying and I was really worried she would change her mind. I didn’t know what came next: how long Rose would be in the hospital, when or how we would be able to see Gavin, when the court date would be, etc. I was filled with uncertain emotion. This was the first time I realized that cautious optimism is one of the worst emotions possible.

cautiously optimistic half-smiling, half-empty Angie with Gavin minutes after birth

When the phone calls were completed, I sat down with Daddy in the waiting room and sobbed. As Daddy has always been a half-full kind of guy, he explained that worrying wouldn’t change one thing. We were this far. All we could do was spend as much time with you as possible and love you and show Rose and her husband what kind of parents we would be. “So, let’s do it.” Jan, your Mommo (grandma), said this, “No matter what happens, you spend as much time with that baby boy and show him parenting and love that is so fierce it will make a difference in his life even if it only happens for a few days. It WILL work out.”

totally optimistic, full smiling, half-full Brian with Gavin minutes after birth

That’s what we did.

The next day, your birth mommy was released from the hospital. She and I were given arm bracelets that matched yours. She filled out the birth certificate with her name and information. We would fill out another 6 months later. For the next 4 days, you stayed in the hospital despite your thriving health. We were not allowed to take you without a court order. With no agency involved, no one would take that legal liability and rightfully so. We came up to that hospital 3 times a day for 2-3 hours at a time holding you, feeding you, changing your diaper, inspecting you and devouring you. We brought up your Memaw and your Papa and your Aunt Mindi when we knew Rose would not be there, too. Not that we didn’t want them to meet someday, but we didn’t want the pressure of them knowing each other if something fell through. The town is small. We did it to protect everyone.

On Monday morning, September 24th, Rose and her husband signed the papers. We had a court hearing and were given legal custody of Baby Boy Thursday, which is what they called you in our petition for adoption. We went to the hospital with all our documents and met Rose and her husband. There can be no moment more bittersweet. The very event causing my utopia and elation was the darkest moment of Rose’s life. My unending gain was her forever loss. My greatest gift was her ultimate sacrifice. My respect for her decision has grown exponentially over the years. She had every right to parent you, Gavin. She didn’t ‘give you up’ as so many mistakenly claim. No, she gave up herself.

outside courthouse - Memaw, Angie, Brian, cousin Kim, cousin Jenny, Aunt Judy, cousin Scott, PaPa.

NOW totally optomistic, half-full (cuz we had a court order) FULL smiling first time Mommy!

We stayed in Missouri for a full week until the inter-state documentation could be completed. Mommo and Poppo drove 4 hours to meet you and then back to Illinois. Poppo put together your crib. Mommo painted your room and displayed all the baby things we had acquired cautiously. We had borrowed the car seat, bouncy seat and so many other items to avoid the pain of returning it all if things had unfolded differently. My family all came to meet you and held a baby shower for us. One huge party was thrown in your honor, Gavin. In my family of 25 aunts and uncles and 32 first cousins and multitudes of second cousins, you were the first to enter our family via adoption.

Daddy’s family had a shower for us when we returned to Illinois. Once again, you were celebrated and introduced to a family EVEN larger. Daddy’s family has welcomed several via adoption and we are very familiar with the joy that can accompany such a miracle.

Gavin, this all transpired seven years ago. The emotions surrounding that time were so raw and powerful – both the highs and the lows. Writing them fills me with such admiration and appreciation for your birth family again. It fills me with that first-time-mother uneasiness. It fills me again with the shock of experiencing a new kind of love. So many have asked me throughout the years, “Don’t you feel like he is so lucky to have you? That you saved him?” I reply, “No. There is no doubt Gavin would have ended up loved. So very loved. A birth mom who is willing to do what Rose did for us loves in a way even I can’t understand. No, we didn’t save Gavin. Gavin saved us.”

You came to us in God’s way in God’s time. I have come to understand adoption as an even greater miracle than childbirth. The same timing of a woman and man’s body needs to align. Further yet, an aching family has a need as another family agonizes over an aching decision. Oh how miraculous indeed. What makes our story even more miraculous was our timing – mere months prior, if in-vitro was successful, we would not have YOU. YOU make our family what it is today. Mere days later, we would have been on our next path to in-vitro again. Our paperwork was rushed and finalized a mere 2 weeks before your birth. Had Rose understood the process and had a better counselor at Catholic Services, she probably would have continued on that path. Had Aunt Judy not worked with Rose to begin with, we would not have known about you. Oh, Gavin, God’s hand was SO INVOLVED in this. We were not looking to adopt. Your birth family was not sure they wanted to choose adoption. It was all God’s choice for us. God spoke to Judy’s heart to mention us to Rose. God spoke to Rose’s heart to consider us. God spoke to our hearts to strongly consider this child he created (you). God timed everything perfectly. He even helped finance it. We had spent so many thousands of dollars trying various fertility treatments. Being an open adoption with no agency involved, we had our financial assistance to Rose and our home-study and legal costs. However, they were thousands less than the standard adoption fee of 15% of our gross income. Yes, God led us together as He so expertly does in His infinite wisdom and in His often unconventional ways, and we are humbly grateful for His constant provision in our lives.

KEEP BELIEVING

Go read some more Miracles for yourself.

Gavin is SEVEN today

Gavin,

To my dude who won’t let me call him Sweetie, Baby, Honey, etc. anymore. Oh no. You are too cool for that these days. Cuz, you know… SEVEN and all.

Seven years ago today Gavin, SEVEN years ago we were sitting in a hospital room awaiting your arrival. SEVEN years ago and it truly feels like just a few weeks ago. I know everyone says that, and it sounds SO cliché, but it is so darn true.

My original birthday post for you was going to be all about how you came into our lives. It is written and awaiting publishing, but as I proofed it, I realized it wasn’t so much about you as it was about Daddy and me. I am saving that post for Miracle Monday because, Gavin honey, your entrance into our world is nothing short of miraculous. BUT, I decided to make this birthday post all about YOU!

Gavin the things that make you who you are truly are unique.

At seven, you still cannot stand for your hands to be sticky or covered with strange substance, especially when it comes to food. You will ask me to cut food into pieces, including peanut butter and jelly sandwiches so you don’t get jelly on your fingers. However, you refuse to use a napkin. What gives? You would rather stop eating, go wash your hands and come back and repeat the same process 5 times during a meal. Also? You have no problem digging in the mud and picking up a worm or a live frog. Yet, you won’t eat a donut covered in powdered sugar with your hands.

At seven, you are now in full day first grade. You love it and all your teachers through all your years of school so far comment on how kind and respectful you are to all the students. I love that about you, Gavin. You rarely exclude others. You are kind and gentle and pleasing. You are loyal and honest. You are open and not afraid to try something and fail.

At seven you smile constantly. Everyone remarks on it. Teachers, coaches, friends, friends of friends, family, friends of family, strangers on the street, cashiers at the check-out line – everyone notices what seems to be a perpetual smile on your face. It is contagious and I think it shows the outward appearance of your inwardly happy heart.

At seven, you are a stickler for the rules. You abide by them pretty regularly and you tell others when they are not. While sometimes it worries me that someday you will be an outcast for being such a rule follower, I know I would rather have you this way than rebellious and dishonest. You do not lie. You thrive on routine.

At seven you are struggling a bit with sibling rivalry with your 5-1/2 year old brother. You don’t lose graciously to him, but you do to everyone else. You DO exclude him from some activities and you blame him for almost everything. You have had a blame issue going on for quite some time, but the fault seems to have shifted to Grant as of late. However, he is your best friend and vice versa. You look for him when you awake and you compliment each other’s ying to the other’s yang.

At seven, you still collect things. When you go on nature walks with grandparents, you stop along the way and collect expelled shotgun shells, birds’ eggs, acorns, scrap pieces of paper, interesting rocks, etc. When we are in the parking lot, you will pick up buttons and receipts and any other “treasures,” as you like to call them, and tell me you are adding it to your collection. Your collection sits in an abandoned toolbox Daddy gave to you. You thought the toolbox gift was such a rite of passage and were so thrilled about it. In actuality, Daddy gave you the toolbox to limit the size of your collection. All “treasures” must fit inside the toolbox.

At seven, you love Webkinz. You carry your “stuffies” around quite often feeling out those around you to see if they are into it or not. If not, you place them off to the side and ride your bike and skateboard like no other seven year old. If your friends are into Webkinz, your animals get to come along for the ride or jump on the trampoline or whatever activity you choose. You also love Star Wars and Indiana Jones and Spongebob and any Japanimation show, yet you will still watch Clifford and even an occasional Dora/Diego episode (if you don’t have control of the remote, which is rare). You constantly teeter on the threshold from little kid to big kid.

At seven, you do not play with your inside toys much. In fact, we have little left because you and Grant prefer large motor skill toys. One of your friend’s parents dubbed our house the X-games house due to the bike/scooter ramp and constant parade of bikes ascending up and plummeting down its inclines and because of the wheeled vehicles – Ripstick, scooters, skateboards, rollerblades, bikes in perpetual use in our driveway and down our walk. And because of the trampoline and playhouse/clubhouse with monkey bars and apparently optionsl ladder as you often scale the walls to enter. Yes, your love and interests are outside.

At seven you are still a lousy eater. Picky does not do justice to describe your eating habits. You are stubborn and refuse to eat vegetables unless threatened with the loss of one of your beloved wheeled modes of transportation listed above. Even at that, I realize a bite or two is all I am going to get for now and hey, it’s a start. I love you too much NOT to force some healthy food on you, though. Trust me, Gavin; I am trying to get you to expand your palate for your own benefit. You believe chocolate is a food group and would consume your weight each day in liquid form as long as that liquid is not water.

At seven, you are inquisitive, and TALKATIVE and a bit of a know it all. You will ask a question for which you have already formulated an answer and if anyone does not answer it “your way” you will correct him or her. Often inaccurately. Even when corrected, you often respond with your erroneous facts until either you succomb to a new revelation in your world or a truce can be called (read: Mom says, WHY DO YOU ASK ME IF YOU DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT or read: Mom says, Whatever, Gavin. What.Ev.Er.) However, one cannot help but love your confidence in your firm knowingness and your willingness to debate and defend the response.

At seven, you are unique and fun. You are eager to learn. You make new friends constantly. You are a joy and a blessing. You help those around you learn more about the world through your eyes each day. I can’t imagine life without you, Gavin. Your smile, your honesty, your discussions and your enthusiasm brighten this world with your own personal ray of sunshine.

All my love, Gavin. All my love.
Happy Seventh Birthday, Buddy!

That time of month again...

not quite...

A few months ago, unbeknownst to us, a couple of Brian's college fraternity brothers were sitting around thinking of Brian and catching up on old times. After they had strapped on a few themselves, they informed us they had given Brian a 3-month membership to the beer of the month club. You may remember from this post (quick read) and this post (scroll to the very end really quickly if you do click on that link) that there is probably no more appropriate gift for my man.

This time of the month, the doorbell rings and an adult-signature-required package is left on our porch, without signature I might add, and we are graced with three bottles of three different microbrews to add to our beer fridge.

Unfortunately, though, our time of the month is reaching menopause and will end as the subscription is up with this last package:


Thanks to Jason and John (Hud and Doctor Johnny, to Brian) for the best gift that keeps on giving, EVAH!

KEEP BELIEVING