Due to the Olympic Fever that’s hit our home, the boys have been exposed to new aspects of sports.

We’ve been swimming before, but they’ve never seen Mommy or Daddy do competitive swimming starts or flip turns. (I wonder why?! )

I won’t even begin to describe their fascination with parts of gymnastics. I’m just thankful that they can’t reach the rafters in the garage.

Anyway, the swimming thing hit new heights this week when Nate and I witnessed our boys trying to “take their mark” off the arm of the couch and dive onto the cushions. We pretended not to notice because it was oh-so-funny. We let it go, while wathcing out of the corner of our eye(s) again and again.

I suppose doing this in just their underwear was their nod toward Speedos.

We finally had to stop them when Andy and Brady decided to race and start off the “blocks” at the same time. Being older and wiser, Mom and Dad knew that their couch cushions  pool wasn’t wide enough to catch both of them!

Thankfully, they never tried it from opposite ends of the couch.

FYI, I really wanted to post photos of this Olympic event, but the aforementioned team “uniform” prevented me from doing so.  

Ever feel like an underachiever just by hearing about someone else’s accomplishements?

This story did it for me.

One lady… seven babies… all at once! Amazing. To top it off, each of the septuplets weighed more than my preemie daughter Evan, who weighed just two pounds, twelve ounces!

That’s what you call multiple blessings.

I’ve talked to my kids many times about the dangers of smoking and cigarettes. They have a plethora of ways to say no, if and when the offer ever arises.

We have a big copy of the Disney book “101 Dalmations.” (This will relate to the intro. I’m getting there.) Inside, there’s an brightly colored illustration of Roger smoking a pipe.

Connor was looking through the book while I washed dishes the other day. He paused on that photo, pointed at the pipe and said, “Mommy, what’s this?”

Inside, I cringed. Who wants to explain that to a two-year-old?

“That’s a pipe,” I said honestly. “It’s gross and yucky. It’s just nasty, buddy. Don’t ever use one.”

He seemed content with this answer. He picked up the book and carried it out of the kitchen.  I was relieved…

Until he came back.

He held up the book and looked at me and said, “Mommy, I punch the guy and say, ‘That’s NASTY!’”

He seemd so pleased with his solution. Maybe he’ll be the Surgeon General one day.

Why isn’t there a Mommy Olympics?

You know, with relays like the 4×100 quadruplet diaper change? The triathlon of making dinner, extracting the popcorn kernel from your toddlers nose, and bouncing the colic-y baby one your hip? I’d surely be a contender for the decathlon of juggling too many projects and so many kids all at once.

In high school, one of my favorite teachers wanted to know what event we’d like to take gold in if we were Olympians. For me then, it was a tie between the gymnastics all-around (It always has been my favorite. I was a tumbler as a kid.) and the individual medley in swimming. Either way, you’re the best of your sport, having mastered all aspects of it.

Looking back now, I’d never be caught dead on global TV in either a leotard or a swimsuit. (That would cause an instant drop in ratings. )

Thankfully, my quest for Mommy gold allows me to wear my pajamas  whatever is clean — and not skin tight.

In what event (dream or real) would you take gold?

I must confess that though Italy’s Andrea Minguzzi
earned his medal, the mom in me
wants the shout, “Get that out of your mouth!”

My boy Andy accepted Christ as his Savior last night. It’s something we’ve been praying for for quite some time. We’re so excited for him as he begins his life as a child of God.

He came bounding out of VBS last night and said, “Mommy, I got saved!” He was grinning from ear-to-ear as he told me the story about how he and Daddy prayed together in the church library. What a sweet time for him!

I kept hugging him and told him that a year from now, we’d have a birthday party at home for him. “Cause you’ll be one in God’s eyes then!”

“A birthday party? Will I get presents?” he asked.

I laughed. “Um, maybe. We’ll have to wait and see.”

“Can I get shin guards?!”

Leave it to my five-year-old to capitalize on a life-changing decision… apparently his new-found faith still has room for baseball.

And I’m so glad.

In all that we’ve gone through learning more about Brady’s allergy to casein (dairy), the rest of the family has picked stuff up about it along the way.

Case in point, last night’s conversation with two-year-old Connor:

Connor: “Mommy, can I have a drink of you’ pop?” He grinned sweetly.

Me: “Nope. Mommy poured you juice, remember? It’s on the table.”

Connor:“No! I can’t drink it. It has daiwy in it!!”

Valiant effort, but he didn’t get a drink.

It’s Vacation Bible School time around these parts. The boys have been so excited all summer. My oldest two are reciting their memory verses repeatedly today. Even though Connor is really too young to technically be involved, he still goes through the motions.

Yesterday he said, “Mommy, I sooo ‘cited for Spaykation Bible Skewl!”

“Good,” I said.

“I said it, Mommy!!” He squealed. “I say ‘Spaykation Bible Skewl!”

I didn’t have it in me to correct him. He sure tries.

• small black snake? . . .  check!
• dead and pungent possum? . . . check!
• larger brown snake? . . .  check!
• toddler-sized woodchuck? . . .  check!
• scraggly calico cat? . . .  check!
• my “friend” the now 18-inch snake? . . .  check!
• Mowing the lawn without being harmed by my lawn’s natural wildlife?  Priceless.

Anyone out there know how to get lots and lots of purple marker off a two-year-old’s arms, legs and hands?

Just curious.

He used to be so cute.

The boys have really been on a kick of rhyming words lately. As I said before, Andy gets it. Brady’s coming around now.

The other day, he ran into our room where I was folding laundry. He said, “Mommy, do ‘mail’ and ‘fail’ rhyme?”

“Yup!” I said.

“Goody,” he giggled. “I’ve been talking to myself about that.”

Then he skipped away. Now we know what four-year-olds are discussing when they talk to themselves.