Dealing with the Issues

I want to be their friends.

A song with the word "cutlery" in it?

Now that's good.

I wish they would come over.

7 Years of WONDERFUL!

Happy Birthday sweet boy. What a blessing you are to us! We are so proud of you. Your heart for the Lord and others is a beautiful thing to see. God has big plans for you, Anson. We can't wait to see what HE does with your life.

Seven has never looked so cute.

Go wish Anson Happy Birthday!

10 Whole MINUTES!

Guess what!

I (as in me…me! Heather, ME!) ran 10 minutes today and have LIVED to type about it!

Go me!

My goal was to run for ONE minute...and look what I did!

I don't think it's any coincidence that I ran my 10 minutes on the anniversary of my first son's birth. Natural delivery and running 10 minutes were quite similar.

During labor, I thought I was going to die, and was actually perfectly fine with that as long as death would stop the pain.

During my run, I thought my heart was going to grow hands, rip open my chest and run into the lady's dressing room straight into the shower...but IT DID NOT! It stayed INSIDE my body!

I feel like a champ.

I feel like I could take on the world.

I feel like an athlete.

I also feel like taking a nap…but holy cow…I RAN for 10 minutes today!

And I don't want to die or sit on the potty.

Navy Seals, here I come!

The Greatest Show on Earth

Now really…

There is just nothing better than an off-brand circus.

If you EVER happen upon a gas station that is giving away free kid’s tickets to a circus nearby, you really have to go…and take everyone you know.

We found free tickets at a gas station near us, just this morning.

I called and asked Aaron if we could go.

Only my husband would say yes, fully knowing what he was getting himself into.

The coupon said, “The Esqueda Brothers Circus Extravaganza.” Who could miss such a promising event?

It was at the fair grounds in Navasota. Even better.

We picked up the Henry kids and headed to a land flowing with hilarity.

Esqueda

Brother's

Extravaganza

here we come!

On the way, we noticed there were no other cars anywhere in sight. None.

It seemed we were the only ones going to the circus.

We pulled into the parking lot and sure enough…we WERE the only ones going to the circus.

At first, we thought the circus was going to be in this little metal building sitting in the middle of a pasture.

I started clapping with excitement. Aaron started laughing. The kids were climbing over each other to get out of the car.

The extravaganza actually ended up being out doors, hidden from our view in the parking lot.
Before we got out of the car, I reminded the kids that we call these off-brand circuses, “soupuses.”

We can’t actually call them a circus. That would be wrong on so many levels.

They aren’t really a circus, as in a real, Ringling Bros. Circus.

However, they ARE just as entertaining, in their own unique and wonderful way.

At Ringling Bros. Circuses I say, “Ooh” and “Ah” a lot. I leave wanting to load up my family and immediately join the circus where we can play with elephants and wear sparkly clothes every day. It's like watching a dream, awake.

At a soupous such as the Esqueda Brothers Circus Extravaganza, there are absolutely NO “Oohs” and “Ahs.” Not a single one.

However, you do leave with some real-live pee in your pants.

This is what we walked up to:

Hot diggity this was going to be good.

Before the actual extravaganza began, a lady in her 80’s from Helsinki, Finland came out and encouraged us all to buy our circus coloring books. If your book had a star sticker in it, you got one of these elephants.

This was very exciting, since the only elephants at this soupus were these pink, plastic ones.

Then, the show began.

All of a sudden, a “different” lady came out from behind the curtain. She too was about 80 years old and from Helsinki, Finland as well. She looked almost identical to the coloring book lady, EXCEPT she now had on a shiny shirt.

These soupus people can be ever so tricky.

As the show went on, Aaron turned to me and said, "Wouldn't you just want to sit down with that lady and talk to her...I mean...really...how does a person get from Finland to the Fairgrounds in Navasota surrounded by soupus performers?"

I said..."I think I'm going to be her one day."

Can't you all see it coming?

The first act was the hula hoop girl. She came out wearing this:

Aaron says…

“Oh…good Heather…I’m glad we brought the Henry kids to the porno circus.”

I was crying with laughter.

I could not catch my breath. It did not help that every time I looked over at Joseph he was looking down at the ground...or at me, rolling his eyes.

Then, the “Space Princess” came out. I think she was wearing a bikini with a cape made out of a highway worker’s vest. I thought it was fantastic. And, it glowed in the dark. I want one.

Next came the contortionist.

She was also the girl who sold balloons during intermission. She was also the porno hula girl.
And to think...I call talking on the phone and cooking supper multi-tasking. Shame on me.

Next was my favorite segment of the soupous.

This was when the Finish MC would come out…the lights would all be off…and she would try to convince everyone that they needed to buy a glow in the dark circus toy.

Here were some of her pitches…

“This is a one of a kind, fiber optic Expando Sword.”

“You can hang these from your door knob, your bed post, or your rear-view mirror.”

And my favorite…

“This toy comes with a special, exclusive feature…an off and on switch.”

Aaron was laughing out loud and tears were running down his face.

How we love the soupus.

Intermission happened next.

Sparkly Finish lady said we must stay for the rest of the circus because the good stuff was coming up next…the dogs and snakes. She seemed worried her little crowd would leave. What?

Nothing could make us miss the dogs and snakes. Nothing.

During intermission, Sponge Bob came out to have his picture taken with kids for $5 a picture.

He was so filthy. His dirty Spongeness was literally hanging off his sponge parts down to his knee parts. You could shake his hand, or one of the dirt clumps hanging off of him. It was your choice.

Of course my kids had to go say hi to Sponge Bob. Of course we let them.

The second half kicked off with the Snake Ninja Master. That was really his name.

He was really dressed in a ninja costume. He was also the clown. He was also white.

He was a white ninja snake master who doubled as the soupus clown.

I could barely breathe.

The snake act consisted of picking up a snake out of a box and holding it up in the air…and walking around with it…while the Sparkly Finish MC saying, in a very panicked voice…

“Everyone stay seated. Please stay seated.”

Aaron was stomping his foot with laughter.

Hayden thought the Snake Ninja Master was the coolest person in the world. He wants to be him.

Then there was a juggling man. He was pretty good. He juggled little balls with his mouth. Spit was flying everywhere…but he really was incredible. Aaron said he was going to learn to do this. I was beside myself with excitement. However, I did say, "Honey please...you can only practice this if Jason or Rusty are around so they can save you if you choke on one of those balls."

Then we laughed some more thinking about if Aaron died choking on a small plastic ball while learning to juggle with his mouth. I've always known Aaron would die doing something similar to this...something so silly and funny that the person presiding over his funeral could not even say out loud how Aaron died because he would start laughing.

Next up was the clown. However…the Ninja Snake Master had not had enough time to turn back into the clown…so there was a moment of awkwardness.

Have no fear.

Someone’s arm came out of the curtain holding a shiny flag…the Sparkly Finish MC took it…looked at it…and no joke said...

“Let's have a flag waving contest.”

And we really had one.

Now that’s thinking on her toes.

I wonder what we would have done if an arm had shot out of the curtain holding a jump rope…or a chihuahua.

The MC then says…"Our next performer is something spectacular. You’ve all heard of the amazing Baltista Family…so welcome, Amanda Gazellmo.”

What does that mean?

I thought Aaron was going to fall over.

I had my head buried in Ashton’s back weeping with laugher.

And…Amanda Gazellmo was…yep…you guessed it…the balloon girl, hula porn girl, and the contortionist.

It was like being at a Greater Tuna Circus.

The big finale were the dogs.

There were three of them. One rode a scooter. One jumped over a bar with shiny ribbons on it and one jumped rope.

Then our fun was over.

The kids had a blast.

Aaron will be sore from laughing so hard.

I had to come straight home and take a shower. I really did have some pee on me.

We laughed all the way home.

The kids were killing me recreating the soupus in our car.

We will drive for miles to see our next soupus.

There’s not many things that can make our family laugh so hard, we can’t even talk to each other in the moment.

I left all my mascara on that dirty floor of those fair grounds.

Those Esqueda’s…whew! My face hurts.

Long live the soupus.

Question: Could he be any cuter?

Answer: Nope

Go see the cutest little cub scout EVER.

Happy Birthday My Sweet Friend!

Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday dear ASHAWEE….
Happy Birthday to you!

We love you!

Sorry…this is the only picture I have of you on my computer.

Ashley has a beautiful daughter…but this isn’t her. This is my cute-as-the-cuttest-button-you’ve-ever-seen niece.

Brit Hume Looks Like a Meany Head

So here’s my latest thing…

I want to be on the up and up regarding current events.

Right now, I honestly don’t have a clue what’s going on in our world. I never have. Ever.

While it would be so convenient to blame my dumbness on having children, or being busy…it would be untrue. When I wasn’t a mother and I was less-busy, I was still dumb about current events.

Every once in a while I try to care about the news. I know I should, so I try. I never stick with it. Actually, I never sit still long enough to watch it or read it.

Aaron told me the other day that Israel was going to war or something and that perhaps Armageddon was right around the corner.

He said it, just like that…so calm, while we were driving around town. I thought he was joking! He wasn’t!

All I could say was, “What? Really?” I was terrified! I vowed that when I got home, I was going to watch the news. If Armageddon was coming, I should know about that…I should be in on this.

But, I forgot.

About three weeks later, I was in the bathtub reading fiction when I remembered…Armageddon!!! Again…terrified.

I got out and went directly to the bedroom to watch the news.

Aaron was reading in the bed. I turned on the TV, went straight to Fox News, as if it’s what I always do right when I get out of the bathtub. Aaron looked up from his book and said, “What are you doing?” I said, “I’m watching the news.”

I said it in a tone of voice that implied watching the news is what I do all the time before bed…a tone that said, “I watch the news every night, and you are obviously oblivious to my night time pattern...you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Trying to confuse him did not work this time, he was on to me. He said, “What is wrong with you?”

That’s when I saw Brit Hume.

He made me change my mind about my new quest to know stuff. After staring at him for awhile, I decided that I don’t think Brit Hume even likes the news, so I shouldn’t have to like it either. He looks terribly bothered by having to be on TV. He seems annoyed that he’s the one who has to talk to me about important things.

Maybe he knows I’m a lost cause...that current events are just a fad for me.

I was waiting for him to look up, disgusted with me and say, “I have to go now…because I hate you.”

I tried newspapers, but I despise everything about them. They make my hands dirty. They stink. They remind me of animal poop...dog's and bird's. They make my arms tired holding them up to read them. I hate that the stories never finish where they start. Who came up with that system? Who?

I don't have time to read the news. So, I certainly don't have time to go on a scavenger hunt while trying to do so. I end up getting distracted as I’m searching for the end of the story I was just reading…and then reading the ending of some other story, or the beginning of a new one…which leaves me with a really loopy version of what happened yesterday...but confident, since I’m now one of those cool newspaper readers.

Loopy AND confident?

That's one horrible combination.

This combination actually makes me self-assured enough to try and partake in conversations about world news with people who actually know what they are talking about.

Can you imagine?

Normally, when anything news-related comes up, I pretend I need to go to the restroom. That always works.

Add all of that nonsense in with the fact that I only read the newspaper in the mornings, with out enough caffeine for such a task, and the whole thing becomes incredibly funny.

And newspapers…they come so often!

That’s a lot of news to read in just one day. Newspaper reading would have to be my full time job if I really were going to read a whole newspaper in one day.

If I did read a whole newspaper in one day, I would be so proud of myself, I would insist they put me on the cover of one.

I feel so behind and stressed out when we subscribe to the newspaper. I just want to stand in my driveway one morning, in my pajamas, holding up 12 bags of run-over, smelly, wet newspapers crying, “Why is there this much news? Why-oh-why-oh-why?”

I want to declare national no news amnesty day. Everyone just has to sit down and hush…do nothing until I can get caught up on what’s been going on while people are up moving around doing things.

Then, there is the problem of disposing of the newspaper. One practically takes up your whole trash bag. I feel horrible guilt because I should be recycling. Yet, I can’t stand clutter, so a stack of anything in my house just will not do…nope, it just won’t do.

If Steve on Blues Clues would have said, “Little boy, go tell your mommy that planes hit the World Trade Center” or if they would scroll Fox News at the bottom of Sesame Street, then I would not have to bother Brit again.

I dream of a world where I can know if Armageddon is coming, with out having to look at Brit Hume to find out if I should stock up on canned chili.

I dream of a world where this world exists as a link on my blog.

Suggestions?

Yes, I Loved Him

His death has truly disturbed me.

Laugh if you must...but it's true...and I'm unashamedly outing myself.

At first, I was more disturbed with how disturbed I was that someone I only know through TV died.

My brain bounced around this conversation, many times…

“I am so upset about Steve.”

“Heather, it is crazy for you to be THIS upset about someone you don’t even know.”

“But, he was such a great guy…he adored his family…he was a loving husband, a wonderful dad…this is tragic.”

“Again…can I remind you…Steve Irwin is not your friend, Heather, just because you watch him on TV.”

We are very stingy with our children, only loaning them out for tiny specks of time during the day to the TV.

One of the FEW strangers we let borrow our children is Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter.

We absolutely love that show.

All of us.

When Steve is on the television, we are all on the couch, cuddled up, shrieking at his tenacity.

I love that before they can even speak the word crocodile, my boys have all of Steve’s moves memorized.

Many times when Aaron has been lying on our floor, our boys will come up and jump him like he’s a crocodile, one getting Aaron's head, the others piling up in a line on his back…it’s a beautiful sight to behold.

I haven’t been able to shake why I’ve been so moved by his death.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking not only about him being gone…but about why I can’t stop thinking about this.

To figure out why this has bothered me to this degree, I had to first figure out why I've always thought Steve was so great.

Why do I love Steve Irwin so much?

I’ve wrestled with that question this week like Steve Irwin wrestles those crocodiles.

It has exhausted me. I'm out of breath and muddy.

But, it all comes to this…

I ache for his passion.

There was no question about what he loved.

He was known for one thing:

He worshiped wildlife.

He respected it.

He publicly praised it.

His passion completely consumed his life.

So thank you, Steve…

Your passion has inspired our family.

That Poor Man Lady

McKaycee the Cool Girl Drummer has inspired me more than usual tonight.

I’m always inspired by her.

I mean, really…come on…

She is a girl, and she is a drummer.

I have hallucinated myself into being that person before…but she’s one in real life.

In real life.

In real life, she gets to walk up to a drum set, sit down and no one rolls their eyes or laughs.

She doesn’t have to say, “Just kidding” and then get up.

She just walks up to those drums, sits down and plays them.

Right now, my insides are impersonating Herman Munster, clapping with excitement…and I’m just pretending to be Kaycee.

I’ve often daydreamed about being a drummer…and seeing that I am a girl, it is only natural and fitting that I have dreamed of being a girl drummer.

Other fantasies of mine include being:

Someone with a crystal-clear complexion.

Someone who can speak several languages, especially when my dream includes busting out this super power to have it remedy some life or death situation.

Someone who can sing like Kelly Clarkson.

Someone who could win at Trivial Pursuit, but who also has a clear complexion and rocks the house on my drums…

Kaycee has a great complexion, plays the drums…and if she tells us that she has won a game of Trivial Pursuit I will weep at her beauty.

And she has to have won playing against educated adults…winning against kids is not fair, although, I do recommend it, if you don’t stand a chance with adults. Although sickening, it does do something for the ego. I’m sorry, but it does.

So, I read her funny story on her blog about her going into the men’s bathroom.

It brought back one of my all time lows in my life.

You see, I too have done this, but not nearly with the grace of McKaycee the Cool Girl Drummer.

I was on campus once, long, long ago in a far, far away time.

I went into a restroom.

I walk in quickly, with confidence because that’s how I do everything…with gusto.

Really, it was probably because I was running late.

So, I run in and pass this person who is standing at the sink, washing their hands.

I walk straight into the stall.

On the way to the stall, I think to my evil self, after glancing at the person at the sink… “That poor lady…if I looked that much like a man…I would just DIE.”

Yes, I am a sinner in need of a Savior.

That’s really what I thought as I shut myself into the stall.

I was in the stall!

With the door shut!

It took all that time for me to EVEN CONSIDER that the man-looking woman, standing there at the sink could possibly be a real man.

I made it all the way into the stall before it dawned on me that…

Maybe the problem here is NOT that this poor “woman” is excruciatingly masculine…

Maybe the problem here is I’m an IDIOT who is in the WRONG BATHROOM.

Pride.

It’s poison.

It also comes before the fall.

I wanted to fall over dead right there in that man stall.

What an awful way to go.

If you died in the men’s bathroom, think of all the people who would know. And think of all the disgusting stuff you would fall over dead UPON.

Although I wanted to, I did not die.

Instead, I stood there, standing in the corner, peeping through the crack in the stall, trying to see the man-she.

I wanted him to leave.

That’s all I wanted him to do.

Please leave.

Just please leave.

Every time I would glance through the crack, there he was, looking at my stall. That poor man was so confused.

I was just about to scream, out loud (although I’m sure it would have come out in a mere whisper)… “Just please leave.”

Before I had to, he finally decided it was time to move on…to leave me in my man-stall misery.

As soon as he was out the door, I bolted out of the stall and ran for my life out of the bathroom…

All the way to my car.

I skipped my remaining classes that day.

Horrifying. Down right horrifying.

Thanks, McKaycee. I needed to relive that horribly, humiliating experience.

Puking

Stomach viruses are the very worst thing that can hit a large family.

As soon as one of my children throws up, I want to flee the country, because I know that the throw up germs will soon be spewing from every hole of every body that lives in this happy home. That's a lot of holes, people.

I would rather my house be hit by a tornado than a stomach virus.

I’m not kidding.

This is partly because none of my children think it’s as much fun to puke in the potty as it is on the floor…or on me…

And partly because as soon as Aaron sees one of our children throw up, he all of a sudden has an irresistible urge, that has never surfaced prior to the puking, to take up jogging around our neighborhood. He’s out the door before I can stop convulsing with disgust near the horrified, precious little puker.

Stomach viruses have a way of making me very aware of how many people live in this house and how much we obviously lick each other or something. We know how to share some germs in this home.

So, Thursday night, about 15 minutes after Aaron left our house for the evening, Danny throws up all over the living room…all over my cute rug…all over my lovely couch.

Since everyone we know has had this horrible, stomach-content launcher, I assume that yep…the virus is here and it’s just waiting to eject from all of us.

So…I stick Danny in the bathtub and rinse him off. He is so confused as to what just happened. I’m sure mass quantities of chunks and liquid shooting out of your face has got to be weird for a little kid…and even weirder that they just watched themselves make that big of a mess and they are not in trouble.

I then run him some bathwater so he can sit and play for a while as I begin the daunting task of cleaning up my battered living room.

My first thought when I walked back into the scene of the crime was…

Let’s just move.

My second thought was I’ve got to do something with the rest of my kids so they stay out of this germy goo.

I send them outside.

They all just woke up from a nap, and instead of giving them hugs and juice, I’m saying, “Get out, get out, get out.” I think they thought I was on drugs.

Then, I practically break my wrist dragging that huge rug out in the back yard.

I come back in the house to clean up the floor and the couch to find that Danny has pooped all in the bathtub.

And to think, I thought this situation could not get any better. Silly me.

I do the only thing I know to do.

I call Aaron and tell him I hate him.

Not really.

I did call him to tell him what happened right after he left.

To this, he says, “I’m sorry, honey. I wish I could come home and help you.” That’s when I say…

“I’m so sure.”

To this he laughs and says, “Yeah, I know…just kidding.”

I clean up the poop. Put a diaper on Danny. Stick him back in the empty bathtub with toys.

Then I see that our Will Ferrell of a dog is dragging that huge rug around the back yard and eating the throw up.

What is wrong with my life? And where is the rapture when you need it?

I yell for the kids to get back inside. I can just see vomit dog running up to them licking them, transferring not only throw up germs…but actual throw up onto my children.

Hayden said, “We need to get a new dog.”

The non-throw uppers watch TV in my room while I finish the nasty task of cleaning up the living room.

After everything has been thoroughly cleaned, I bring them all back into the living room and watch them like a hawk. If they cough, I run them to the bathroom. If they swallow hard…bathroom. If their eyes water…bathroom.

No one gets supper.

They all eat popsicles and grapes. Easy things to throw up that won’t stain anything.

They think it's great.

That night, I draped everyone’s beds with tons of huge blankets. I laid blankets down all over my room, sure they would wake up, walk to my bed and puke. You should have seen the place. It looked like lunatics were living here.

Everything of any value had a blanket over it. Everything uncovered could just be taken straight to the curb if someone yakked on it.

I went to bed extra early, expecting a night from the devil.

However, the next morning, Aaron and I woke up, looked at our room that appeared even more insane in the daylight with blankets covering everything, then made eye contact and said…

“No one threw up!”

It was so exciting. We wanted to hold hands, laugh and dance around in a circle.

Maybe Danny didn’t have a virus.

Maybe God just answered my prayers. I did beg Him and said, "pretty, pretty please, I'll be your best friend."

I don’t know.

I do know that I have decided to put a disaster kit together this week…an emergency, "everyone just started throwing up and Aaron suddenly remembered he needs to sing a song in Florida" kit.

It will include…

Gatorade
Pop Ice
Febreeze
Clorox Clean Up
Gloves
Antibacterial Dish Soap
Rolls and rolls of paper towels
Lots of candy to snack on (I’ve thrown up candy and it’s not too bad)
Clothespins for easier blanket draping
Disinfectant cleaning wipes
Antibacterial hand wash
A utility belt for me to wear that can hold all the stuff above until the disaster has passed.

So please people…

Keep your funk far from us.

If you’ve had a stomach virus, get away.

If you even know someone who has had one…take a break from us.

Like, don't even read our blog.

Please.

Good Morning, Hendricks

Children amaze me.

They are so genuine…so untainted by hypocrisy.

They simply are who they are.

I’ve decided that my children’s entire personality can be summed up by the first thing that comes out of their mouths every morning as they slowly stroll down the hall, sleep dripping off them with every step as they find their way to me.

Anson says…and has said since he was three years old…

“Mom, can I please watch one thirty-minute show?”

Every morning.

That’s so Anson.

So detailed. So by the book. So fair. So predictable.

Saturday, we came home from church. He heard something outside make a lot of noise. As I was getting Ashton and Danny a snack and ready for bed, Anson decided to make sure we were safe. He found a flashlight. He did many experiments outside to try and determine what made “the noise” happen. Then he came to get me, because he had decided this was “serious.”

As we are walking outside to watch Anson save the day, Hayden says, “I hope it’s not an alligator.”

Really.

I could never make up what Hayden says…it is too far fetched, even for me.

Anson says, “No. It’s not an alligator.” Then Hayden says, “What if it is a King Brown?” Hayden is quite the Jeff Corwin fan. Then, no joke…this is what Anson says to his brother…

“Hayden, it would be very dangerous if a King Brown were making this noise. They are the most venomous snake in the world…well, actually, I’m not sure if they are the most venomous, but they can kill you.”

He’s six.

He’s talked like that since he started communicating.

He also informed me before he went to bed tonight that his soap dispenser in his bathroom is clogged. He said, “Mom, we are going to need a new one…you are probably going to need to get one some time…like…I would say…maybe by January.”

He informed me this weekend that he made friends with a new girl at church who didn’t know anyone. Sweet boy.

And…on top of all of that…he’s so cute.

Those of you with daughters may want to start the application process for the arranged marriage now. It’s quite lengthy.

Now Hayden… Oh my Hayden.

He never says the same thing when he wakes up. But, here is what he said a couple mornings ago…and it’s SO TYPICAL.

He walks in, all sleepy eyed…with hair that looks like one strand, right in the middle of his head decided to go postal and is holding up a gun, shooting it at the ceiling, causing all the other hairs on his head to escape in a panicked state of mass confusion. His eyes are barely opened, not quite as convinced as his legs that it’s time to wake up and he says…

“Where is my tape measure?”

That’s what he really said.

He has also said things like…

“Can I have some chili?”

And, “I have a doodle-bug.”

He also recently figured out that Danny is black…and not just black…but “He’s black all over.”

It seems that his friend, Reese broke the shocking news to him.

Poor Reese. She was just stating the obvious to Hayden…however, the obvious never gets any consideration if you're Hayden.

“He’s black for real mom…”

That’s what he told me…and a lobby full of people at church last Saturday night.

His toys for the past few days have been a tape measure, two bowls from the kitchen and two plastic CD cases. They steer space ships. They fix the tractor (the chair he lays on his back and works under in the middle of our kitchen floor)…they are multi-purpose toys for sure.

Hayden…never predictable…never bored…never not funny.
When Ashton wakes up he says NOTHING for about an hour.

He’s not mad.

He’s not upset.

He just refuses to speak.

He will answer your questions…but only in peeps.

High peep equals yes.

Low peep equals no.

When he’s good and awake, he says things like… “What’s that blue thang?” or red thang…or yellow thang…

“What’s that noise?”

And he sings everything he says.

Ashton…completely content…sweet…and smooshy.
When Danny wakes up…as soon as I open the door he says, in machine gun fashion... “Eat mama. Eat. Eat? Eat? Eat mama. Eat.” After I change his diaper I say, “Want to go eat?” He jumps up and says, “Yay" and hugs me as though I was the one who actually suggested it!

Danny…so unsure…so needy…so close to being neither of those things.

Now what about the grown ups in this house? Can we be summed up by the first thing we do in the morning?

Aaron wakes up as if he’s trying to convince a room full of people he wasn’t sleeping. He makes me laugh. He always thinks it is Sunday morning and he’s late. Then, he goes about getting ready in a very slow, steady, and structured fashion. If one of the boys caught their heads on fire during his morning routine, he would have to finish brushing his teeth before he could respond.

His patterns…they equally annoy me and completely comfort me.

I wake up every morning with Hayden’s nose touching my nose.

Then, I hand him over to Jeff Corwin and head straight for the red button on my coffee machine.

I grab my glasses and my Bible.

While I’m waiting for my coffee machine to start coughing, I clean something. Anything.

Only my coffee machine grunting with exhaustion can force me to quit folding, wiping or washing.

Then I settle in with my little cup (or bowl really) of caffeinated heaven and read something delicious in God’s Word. I’ve got a good 30-45 minutes before Ashton turns the corner and peeps at me. The other two will stretch and stroll down the hall minutes later.

I love mornings at the Hendrick House.

I love the newness.

I love that anything is possible.

I love hot coffee and feeling it drag me, sip by sip into my day.

I love my precious males.

I love that all of them wake up with one goal…

To find me

It seems their day has not really begun until I confirm they are awake.

What a gift.

What a job.

What a joy.