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. 
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. 
I’ve had a bit of a rough week, for numerous little reasons. Today didn’t help much.
My husband had an hour at home between jobs. I thought this would be just long enough to jaunt out to the local discount store all alone to hoard all the back-to-school sale-priced Fruit of the Looms. (Sad, but true.)
Since I was attempting it alone, I took my husband’s new (but used) car.
It died.
In the middle of the busiest road in town.
People are so rude. There was honking and shouting, and not from me.
No, I was the one near tears on the phone. Thankfully, I wasn’t far from home. My faithful husband threw all five kids into my van and pulled up behind me and shouted for me to switch cars with him.
His car has a manual transmission, so during the red light, he pushed it into a strong right turn across four lanes of traffic and was able to “pop the clutch” and get it started.
Apparently there’s a trick to the ignition. (The trick is that it does not like me, and after sitting still and freaking out in the car in crazy traffic, I no longer am fond of it, either.)
Anyway, while I was driving back home from the luxury of my enormous-but-faithful van filled with shoeless kids, I heard Connor shouting from two rows back.
“Mommy, we come to save you!”
I nearly cried. Sweet, sweet boy.
Nate told me that the whole time he was driving the van to come get me, Connor kept shouting that they were coming to save me. I have a whole troop of little heroes.
I’m so thankful for my family who comes to my rescue when I need it… which is far more often than I care to admit.
I was talking to my Mom on the phone last night. She made a comment about scheduling her vacation time at work and how she likes to leave some available time “because there seems to be a baby being born every year.” She comes up to help in times like those and we appreciate it.
I knew she was hinting. Obviously, having been pregnant six times in six years makes people assume. “You never know,” I joked. “I’m just going to try to make you think I’m pregnant all the time.”
“I already think that!”
Oh, brother! 
For the record, I am not.
Notice anything different?
A toddler urinal… Really? Which is this?
If you share a chocolate chip cookie with one of your children, is there a way to be sure they get the part with all the fat grams? Just wondered.
A single baseball card dropped in the toilet doesn’t flush as easily as one might think.
I’m signing off for a week. As I wrote about yesterday, we’re headed to the land of “hup-twos” and about-faces. Where the rifles and yarns are spun. Where the Amish are plenteous and the kids rowdy.
From my post last year at this time, please remember:
And, finally, if you’re a burglar looking for a big heist, look no further. We’ve got quite a bounty for you here:
- Trash cans full of dirty diapers
- Sippy cups of various styles
- Dog bones
- All kinds of toys for little boys, most of which were given to us… many of which Nana has given our kids from McDonald’s happy meals
- Mr. Clean Magic Erasers (you could load up!)
- Dust bunnies
- Balls of dog hair in the basement
- Loads of laundry, both clean and not
So, go ahead and break in. We’ll only notice if you clean up. And don’t mind the bazillion police officer friends Nate has stopping by various times throughout the day. They may look mean in their black uniforms, but most of them are only trained in various forms of physical tactics and in firearms… They’re actually nice guys. Have at ‘em. My money’s on the good guys.
See you in a week!