Happy Birthday 2nd Born

Collin is cool.

Today he turned 7.

It's unbelievable.

His birthday menu consisted of hot wings and hot chocolate and no vegetables.

We accommodated.
He woke up this morning to a new bike, fit for a big seven year old.
His other presents were pretty cool too, a nano from Talin and a new hat from mom & dad.

He is definitely my middle child.

Constantly striving to be center of attention, and he usually is.

He's an awesome dancer, insanely bright, hilarious with a smart mouth to go along.

We are so thankful for this kid. He really is a lot of fun and I keep telling myself that he's only going to be more amusing as he gets older, right? I sure hope so.

Another Chaotic Adventure at the Chambers

Collin is a drama king.
So when he ran into the house screaming that Talin was bleeding I was in no rush. I casually made my way to the back porch, certain it was nothing.
But there was Talin, pale as death, calm as death and bleeding like a faucet from his left hand.
I don't panic.
But I've never experience this kind of blood loss. The faucet kind.
I panicked. Blood was pooling in his chair, it was all over his clothes and the cement.
I got it together and ripped his shirt off to apply pressure to the wound and yelled at Collin to get dad and to tell him it was an emergency.
Talin I think was in shock. His response to the situation was creepy, "Can you just get me a bandage mom, it doesn't even hurt."
Are you kidding me???!
Can I just say, thank goodness Tom is a doctor? It was divine intervention that led him to medical school.
He was calm, cool and collected.
He gathered his collection of medical supplies and got to work.
Collin was in a state of adrenaline excitement. He decided to document the whole gruesome procedure.
He would yell at Tom before snapping the picture, "now show me your medical face!".

Looks a little pale huh? I hope he didn't need a blood transfusion or anything. He was feeling a little nauseous at this point. So was I.

Once again. I love my husband.

Two stitches for that gaping nasty wound.

Comfort from mom.

And those two little dots on his hand are his stitches.

Thank goodness for my awesome Tom.

And here's the story behind the self inflicted flesh wound.

Talin was given a pocket knife for his eighth birthday last April.

Tom had spent time with him teaching knife safety, he even passed it off in his cubscout book.

Tom and I felt confident that he was ready to have his own knife, we both received our first knife at that age.

We didn't allow Talin to keep the knife, it was kept with Tom's things and was only aloud to come out when Talin was in the backyard, and Caleb was sleeping.

Sad boy was working on a present for me out of a piece of wood.
I guess that's when he forgot knife safety and plunged it into his palm.

And that's the story.

I feel guilty.

Practicing Thanksgiving

I wish I could photograph food.
I wish I had an amazing camera.
But alas I don't.
So while these pictures do my food no justice, take my word for it, it was divine.

Tom and I decided to practice smoking a turkey for Thanksgiving. Well I should say that Tom decided. He did all the prep, all the cleaning and all the turkey cooking monitoring.
And the most amazing thing (besides how awesome the turkey tasted) was how he cooked it in his homemade smoker.
Remember this?
This homemade smoker makes some amazing grub. So far we've experimented with ribs and chicken, all to great satisfaction. Smoked meat has become a regular staple in our family dinners. And the best part? Tom loves to do it.

But I take all the credit for these beauties.

The best apple pie. And my first attempt at making apple pie.
We had some friends over and we didn't even bother sharing with the kids, we just ate the whole thing ourselves.

I've found my calling for baking tarts and pies.
This lemon tart beauty was made a couple of weeks ago and was beyond divine and perfect.
Crust expertly crisp and yummy, not too tart lemon and not too sweet.

Someday when my life is calm (okay, probably never) I'll open a bakery. And Tom will open a smoke house.

Most Awesome Bed Head EVER

This is what happens when...
you take a hot bath before bed,
you wake up at 3:50 am to feed your baby,
where you find a termite tunnel coming out of the wall by your babies crib,
then you allow baby to sleep in your bed after the feed and find,
then you sleep sideways to accommodate not being kicked in the head,
and have multiple nightmares of termite tunnels.
Resulting in crazy lady hair first thing in the morning.
And if you're wondering why I had to feed Caleb at 3:50 am, it's because we spent the afternoon at the hospital for a cat scan and he had to be put under anesthesia where we starved him beforehand. Standard operating procedure around here. Good thing my baby doesn't mind a grumbly empty tummy.
He did awesome and we'll get results in about a week. Really just finding out how his little ears are formed on the inside of his head, which has always been a source of great curiosity for me since he was born.

Giving Up, Throwing in the towel, whatever...

Last week was a doozy.

In a week and a half I gained six pounds.

I started passing out around 8:00 pm every night.

(to Tom's annoyance)

I groggily awoke at 7:00 every morning.

My jeans barely buttoned.

My head started to hurt.

So I went to the endocrinologist.

He ultrasounded my neck, checking out the old thyroid.

Then he shared his fun findings.

Now he wants to do a biopsy to check for cancer.

And that's when I quit.

I quit being me, being a mother, being a wife.

I listened to him drone on about my low thyroid levels, causing all my fun side effects, I thought about all the things I needed to do that day as he continued talking about how it's only a 20% chance my thyroid nodules are cancerous.

And then I decided I was done.

I quit again.

I stopped caring about the crusty floor in the kitchen, I half heartily went about preparing Caleb's food. I didn't try to stay awake in the afternoon when Caleb napped. I stopped doing the dishes. I stopped making dinner. I stopped caring if my children's homework was done, or if they watched too much tv. I stopped weighing myself and caring about eating a zinger for breakfast.

It was a difficult week.

For my family.

No, I don't think I have cancer, and that's not why I quit. I just got so tired of being tired.

Then I dragged myself out of bed on Sunday and cried that I couldn't go to church. I couldn't face people, listen to testimonies and act like a normal functioning human.

Tom caught me off guard; he agreed.

So of course I went.

And something happened. Something unexpected.

All my insecurities and exhaustion started to wash away and I listened and I felt the old familiar burning and I knew that I couldn't quit.
So today I'm me.

It feels good to not be conquered.

My floor is mopped, the laundry is going, and I feel like I can do this again.