Granny to the rescue (again)

A few months ago, my parents and I made plans for my mom to fly out and spend some time with us.  We had a United Airlines voucher that expired in September and had no place to go.  So Granny cashed it in and booked a flight for November 9.  Little did we know back then that I'd be having kidney stone surgery on November 9!  The timing was pretty crazy, but once again, she came to our rescue and helped out a lot at home while I was recovering.

We did manage to do a few fun things while my mom was visiting.  On Saturday she and I sang in a multi-stake choir and heard Sheri Dew speak.  Then we enjoyed lunch with a few friends.  It was a fun way to spend a morning, but I was still pretty drugged and a little sore.  I'm glad we made it work, though!  I took a really long nap that afternoon.

On Monday my mom took me shopping.  We enjoyed a fun day together.  I normally hate the mall and clothes shopping, but she turned it into an adventure.  I felt a little bit of the real me start to poke through, and that was great.  On Tuesday she helped me and the other Young Women leaders set up for and execute Evening of Excellence for our girls. She also babysat while I managed routine, real-life stuff, like taking kids for hair cuts and dentist appointments.

The kids were happy to have Granny around to play games and hang out.  They were thrilled with the winter hats she brought them, and Don't Eat Pete (with peanut butter m&ms) might have been the highlight of the visit.  That silly little game is a great tradition with Granny.  She also treated the family to dinner Saturday and lunch Wednesday.  She spoiled us all!

It was hard to say goodbye on Wednesday afternoon.  It seemed that five days flew by!  I was halfway comatose for much of the visit (and only took two lame pictures), but I'm so grateful for all Granny did for us while she was here!  Hopefully her next trip to Colorado Springs won't have to be a rescue mission!

Stoned {a novel}

At the end of my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, my friends April and Elizabeth showed up on my doorstep with ice cream, Oreos, and the gift of their companionship.  We laughed and cried and relaxed in the comfort of home (so I could wear pajamas) and I went to bed at 10:30 with a smile on my face.

Four hours later, though, my smile was gone.  I woke up at 2:30 a.m. with pain in the left side of my lower back.  Initially I thought it was a muscle spasm or a pinched nerve, but I couldn't find a comfortable position or stretch in the right way, and the pain kept getting worse.  It wrapped around to my abdomen and the intense ache became cramping and searing pain.  I tried lying on a hot pad, which helped, but not enough.  By about 3:30 I was throwing up and crying.  I hurt so much.  Actually, I was sobbing on the bathroom floor, resting my head on the open (and very dirty) toilet so I didn't have to move my head very much to throw up.  Garry sat with me, his hand on my back for moral support.  He kept asking if I wanted to go to the hospital, but I refused.

I was having vivid flashbacks to the night before I was admitted to the hospital for my PICC line infection 20 months ago.  I was 13 weeks pregnant with Kate.  I was sent home from the ER with "the flu."  The next 36 hours were horrific as my fever spiked, my pain intensified, and I vomited relentlessly.  It wasn't until my temperature was nearly 104 (because a blood infection was raging) that I went back to the hospital and the ER docs took me seriously.  By that time I was so sick that I nearly died.

So even though I was in agony two nights ago, I did NOT want to go back to that place. The memories haunted me.  I couldn't face it.  Somehow I thought that the triage nurse would turn me away.  Or that I'd have to stay indefinitely.  I think I had a panic attack in the middle of my pain attack. It was crazy.

Then "call Karla" popped into my head.  Karla.  She's a gift of a friend, someone who happily came into my life when she moved here in February.  We had an instant connection, I became her visiting teacher, and now we get to work together with the young women in our ward.  I knew she would come and stay with the kids so I wouldn't have to go to the ER alone.  Once Garry called her (and of course she jumped out of bed and drove over immediately), some of my panic receded, I got control of my emotions, and I agreed to go to the hospital.

The ER was deserted.  Garry helped me hobble into the waiting room (I could barely walk, and was bent at a 90 degree angle).  Someone got a wheelchair for me.  I curled up in a little ball and flashed back to the morning Garry wheeled me into that same room 20 months ago.  The similarities were unsettling.  Thankfully, a doctor saw me immediately and a crowd of people attended to my needs.

Within a few minutes a nurse tried to start an IV.  I'm a hard stick.  My veins are crappy. She tried to get the line going three [verrrry slow] times, and the attempts were so painful. Finally the fluids--and the meds--started flowing.  Once the Morphine and the Zofran hit my system, I began to return to reality.  I could think and speak and open my eyes and hold still.  The world took on color again.  It was like an epidural taking effect after being in the throes of hard labor.  It was a miracle.

Why do I feel compelled to take pictures of my IVs?

Hanging out with my "knight in dirty old car."

A CT scan revealed a 4-5mm kidney stone.  I had classic symptoms, but I was oddly euphoric that my pain had a cause and a cure.  It was classified as a large stone, on the borderline between passable and surgical.  I had a kidney stone eight years ago, so of course I had considered the possibility that my pain originated there this time, but I was so relieved with the diagnosis.

This is my super-sarcastic, life-is-so-much-fun smile.  Note how red my eyes are from crying.

For me, the pain truly rivals natural childbirth--the moment when the baby is crowning and everything is on fire and the world is black.  It's really that exquisite.  The difference with kidney stones is that there isn't a beautiful bundle of joy at the end.  At least the pain stops.

Anyway.

Armed with a diagnosis, some drugs, and my CT scan on disc, I was discharged.  At 8:00 a.m. I made an appointment with a local urologist.  He could see me at 10:30.  I got in bed and starting texting friends to make arrangements for my little kids for the day. Amazingly, the first three people I asked were willing and able.  Such a blessing!  Garry got everyone ready for school and began delivering children to their various destinations.  He had just enough time for a quick shower before transferring Zach from the middle school to the elementary school, and then he went to work. He is almost out of vacation days for the year, and I want him home for Christmas, and I knew my friends would take care of me.  And they literally did, all day long.

My dear friend Melanie drove me to see the urologist.  I was pretty loopy, partly from my pain meds and partly from having been up half the night and purging my body of all nutrients.  She helped me walk and fill out forms and talk to the doctor.  Her nursing career and alert brain and witty personality made the visit so great (and kind of hilarious). Dr. Moody said the kidney stone was actually 6 mm.  After explaining things, he said I had a 5% chance of passing the stone on my own, and I'd be miserable and/or drugged up the whole time.  He strongly recommended surgery.  We scheduled for 7 a.m. the next day.

Having taken another dose of pain meds, I was really goofy and nauseated on the way out of the doctor's office.  Instead of leaving me in my empty house, Melanie took me to her house and tucked me into her guest bed.  She brought me tissues when I had a breakdown, and she fed me chicken noodle soup, and she sat on the couch and talked to me all afternoon.  Elizabeth visited, too!  It was so lovely to have someone take care of ME like that. Thanks, friends. :)

Melanie and Karla brought dinner for my family.  Garry rounded up the kids from Ashley, Jenny, and Desi.  He picked up my meds from the pharmacy (total cost for four prescriptions: $1.16!).  We all went to bed early and slept soundly.  Hooray for that.

This morning, another friend, Jennie, picked me up just before six and took me to the surgical center.  Garry stayed home to do the morning routine with the kids (it's complicated and pretty hard to hand off to someone else). Jennie got to be up close and personal with all my meds and health history as the nurses prepared me for surgery.  It was nice to have a good friend along for that!  I'm so glad I wasn't alone...and that she didn't take pictures of me in all of my early-morning, about-to-have-surgery glory.

Only 15 minutes passed between the time I walked toward the OR and when Dr. Moody showed up in the waiting room to tell Jennie that the surgery was successful. Hooray! Jennie took me home and tucked me into bed just as Garry left to deliver the non-school kids to their homes for the day.  I slept.  Later Jennie delivered my new prescriptions ($0.86 for three).

The rest of the day has been quiet and restful.  My pain and nausea are receding.  I have slept and watched a movie and talked on the phone in a perfectly quiet house.  Ashley, Audra, April, and Becky took care of the Littles all day long.  Garry worked at home so he could attend to my needs, hold my hand, and fetch my food. Julee is bringing dinner for my family in a few minutes. Hopefully the insanity of this week will soon be a distant memory.

And, best of all, my mom is coming to town tonight!  We planned her visit for this weekend way back in September.  The timing now is wonderful.  I hope I'll continue to improve and be well enough to enjoy our time together.

SOS

At 4:14 this afternoon, I stood in the procedure room of ABC Pediatrics and sent ten friends the following text:

"Friends: Please be witnesses as I swear a solemn oath to never, ever, ever take my children out in public again.  No errands, no restaurants, no stores, no doctor appointments.  I don't need ANYTHING badly enough to take them anywhere.  Church is only permitted because (I erased something really sacrilegious). Please be my sponsors when my resolve weakens.  Remind me that being on the no-kids-in-public bandwagon is essential for my sanity.  That is all.  Thank you and good night."

In response, my sweet friends said encouraging, validating, empathetic things. That's why I love them.  One in particular said, "I hope this at least turns into a good blog post!"  So Audra, this one's for you.

Today included things like leaving two hysterically screaming children in the YMCA child watch and then arriving in the cardio room to realize I left my ear buds on the kitchen counter and would have to complete my hour-long elliptical workout in silence.

And Gavin spilling pineapple juice all over my freshly mopped floor.

And children who raided their Halloween candy bags at 6:00 a.m. and then fought constantly until they were ushered out the door to school at 8:00.

And a teething baby whose diarrhea has turned her poor bum into a raging red war zone.

And a four-year-old who took his baby sister out into the greenway behind our house and started climbing a tree as she roamed, unattended...all while I had a short little potty break.

And a child who has stormed through the house, angry about something or other, nearly every moment of the time we have been at home together.

And a boy who whacked his brother with a metal broom handle and then complimented the injured child's piercing scream with shrill bursts of a referee's whistle.

And then we went to the doctor's office for flu shots.  Just getting from the house to the van involved tears, sibling-on-sibling physical assault, fighting over car seat placement, and copious complaining about the upcoming activity.  Then we had to navigate the medical office parking lot. The kids fanned out, each disappearing behind a different vehicle, popping out occasionally to scare and/or irritate the daylights out of me.  Gavin had a close encounter with a moving car.  Then he and Lexi screamed over who got to push the blue button that opened the door.  And then again at the elevator.

Gavin, Zach, and Tyler bounded up the stairs to the second floor.  Lexi wanted to ride the elevator.  So we waited as I heard boys thundering down the hall above us.  An elderly woman, moving along with a walker, an oxygen tank, and an assistant, got into the elevator first.  Lexi nearly bowled over the poor lady and jumped for the panel of buttons. The woman was not charmed with her impetuous behavior.  Neither was I, but I apologized.

When we arrived on the second floor, I could hear the boys' animated laughter, but I could not see them. Gavin darted around the corner, running toward us at full speed, and almost knocked over an elderly couple stooped over walkers (it must have been Senior Day at the doctor's office).  I offered my apologies as I chased Gavin.  Zach and Tyler raced Gavin down the hall, and all three boys came to a screeching halt (literally, because they were yelling) at the pediatrician's door.  Lexi ran ahead and fought with Gavin over who got to open the door.  They were banging on the metal handle and shaking the whole door.  I finally opened it and my four mobile kids burst through the door and ran to the toy area.  About 15 people were waiting in the chairs that framed the room, and everyone one of them was staring at us.  A few of them (honestly and truly) had dropped jaws and wide eyes.  I offered a big wave and a loud hello, announcing that the Bartle family had arrived--in case they hadn't noticed.

Of course there was a problem with the paperwork at the front desk.  All of the kids except Lexi needed flu shots (she got hers in September), but somehow Zach wasn't on the list.  I had to fill out and/or sign three sheets of paper per child, some of which was slow in coming because of the mix-up.  I was at the desk for at least five minutes (although it seemed like an hour), and the kids were running wild.  It was like one of those over-the-top, inane movies about a crazy large family whose children literally bounce off the walls, paint people with mud, and pop a perfect stranger in the eye.  People stop and stare because the spectacle is so...spectacular.  And I play the helpless, idiotic, out-of-touch mother whose pleas for order and civility fall on deaf ears.  If there was ever a scene for SuperNanny to crash, this was it.

At one point another [surely more seasoned] mother walked all the way across the long room and started lecturing Gavin and Lexi and picking up the books they had un-shelved and re-positioning the bean bags they had dragged to odd places.  Gavin was, admittedly, jumping from the windowsill, but he was completely unreceptive to a perfect stranger telling him what to do.  As soon as she turned her back, he did it again.  And then she wagged her finger.  When I walked up and apologized, she said, "Well, someone had to intervene."  Yep.  She was totally right.  I wanted to ask if she'd just take the kids home with her, but then I thought she might have me arrested for Terror Toddler Trafficking.  Or something illegal.

Things were a little calmer when we were taken to the procedure room where the nurses would administer the flu vaccines.  There was less real estate to destroy, at least.  But there weren't enough chairs for everyone, and Gavin apparently had an irrepressible need to hit someone, and Lexi was his target.  There were at least three children screaming/crying when two nurses walked in to greet us.

And then there was more paperwork, and the taking of temperatures, and the naming of children, etc.  This is when I began typing my SOS text.

Tyler was the first and bravest shot victim.  Zach was less so.  And by the time it was Gavin's turn, he was completely hysterical and required two people to hold him down for the shot.  He was screaming, "I DON'T WANT A FLU SHOT!" over and over again.  It took him a while to realize the whole thing was over in two seconds and it barely even hurt. What with all the theatrics, it was hard to notice a little pin prick.

The kids chose temporary tattoos as prizes on our way out.  [Insert more fighting: "I want that one!"  "Let me hold the basket!"  "MOM!!!!"]  And then we navigated the elevator/stairs/parking lot in exactly the same manner as we did upon entering the building.  And I'm pretty sure Gavin almost knocked over the same lady with a walker.

By the time the kids were in their seat belts in the car, compassionate texts had begun to flow in.  I sat in the driver's seat and took a few deep breaths.  I resisted the urge to leave the van full of children and walk  by myself into the sunset.  Instead I drove home, sent everyone to their bedrooms, and called Garry to ask him to bring home dinner.

That is the story behind the SOS text dated November 6th, 2012.  

The end.

Content to be himself

This morning Gavin came upstairs, all dressed and ready for school.  I took one look at him and had to make choice: Do I fight this or just let it go?  I chose to let it go.  Sure, the shirt was too big and the shorts clashed and there was a hole in the toe of the shoe, and he's not supposed to wear hats to school.  But he was happy, and who am I to crush his spirit?

So he went to school looking like this:

After dropping him off, Garry called me.  "Is it really picture day today?"

I think I laughed for five minutes, because it is, indeed, picture day.  And of course the class shot will display the whole crazy outfit.

Did I mention that Gavin really needs a haircut and he currently has a black eye?

I think I MUST buy school pictures this year!!

Sunset book

The sunset (at 5:10 p.m.) as seen from our church parking lot.

Simply beautiful.

I love Colorado.

{post-edit}

Last night when I took this picture,
I instantly thought of my very favorite bedtime story by Sandra Boynton.
Who else can recite it with me?

The sun has set not long ago,
Now everybody goes below to take a bath in one big tub,
with soap all over--scrub, scrub, scrub.
They hang their towels on the wall
and find pajamas big and small.
With some on top and some beneath,
they brush and brush and brush their teeth.
And when the moon is on the rise, they all go out to exercise!
And down once more, but not so fast,
They're on their way to bed at last.
The moon is high, the sea is deep.
They rock and rock and rock to sleep.

Mmmm....I'm ready for bed.  How about you?

14.5

I missed Kate's 14-month update, so here's a catch-up post.

Kate's one-year molars have all arrived.  Ouch.  Her poor gums look awful.  Combine teething with the inevitable diaper rash and the one-nap transition and a fall cold and...ouch.  Poor baby.

Kate is way too active to be sick and miserable, though.  She's an explorer and a thinker and a doer--a super busy toddler--but she's so happy.  She's completely delighted with herself when she climbs onto the chairs or the table.  She squeals and giggles when she makes it into a laundry basket, on top of a bed, or onto the couch.  She is just so proud of herself when she wrestles open a cabinet or drawer and empties the space of its contents. Splashing in the toilet fills her with joy, as does emptying the wipes container and dumping out the goldfish crackers. If you wonder why so many of these photos are of her backside, it's because she won't hold still long enough for a face shot.  (And her ruffle bum is cute.)

  

Kate is happy.  She laughs and grins and crunches her nose and claps and waves in the most darling of ways.  She's friendly; she says "hi" to everyone we see.

  

Kate is a cuddle bug.  She loves blankets and pillows and snuggles and stuffed animals and baby dolls.  She adores her binky and her bunny (we have enabled the poor child). She likes to sit in the little rocking chair in her room and look at books. She does not like me to read to her, however.  She prefers her own space and her own pace.  Sometimes she'll shut herself in her room and sit with her books.  Kate is also spending my get-ready-in-the-morning time in her crib with books and toys, since I can hardly trust her to roam the house at will.  She's just fine with that, and she tolerates the YMCA child watch again.  Bonus.

Kate clearly doesn't miss a beat around here.  She can follow instructions and runs around with a clear sense of purpose.  She knows what we want, and she knows what she wants.  The frustrating thing is that she can't SAY what she wants.  Kate is slowly moving out of the screeching stage, where she shrilly screams whenever she needs something.  When she shrieks, I ask her to use her soft voice--and she does!  We are working on words and signs with her, but so far, no luck.  I have a feeling that when Kate's words show up, they'll start pouring out and never stop.

Kate's hair is really growing.  I think her pigtails are really fun.  Her hair is much thicker than Lexi's (and mine), mostly straight, and much darker than her towheaded siblings. She lets me do stuff with it, and she likes standing on the toilet and looking in the mirror while I play with rubber bands.  I'm not really a "cute hair" mom, but I do prefer that my girls' hair doesn't flop in their eyes.  And rows of pigtails work on toddlers with mullets.

Kate's favorite place is outdoors.  Her favorite things in our yard are the trampoline, the ladders on the play structure, and the wagon.  And balls.  She LOVES balls.  She rides in the wagon to the mailbox nearly every day, and on days when we walk around the block (or two), she is content to ride for a long time.  She grunts and points to the big kid bikes and scooters and boards and sticks, but it'll be a while before she can use those.  In a house full of big people, it won't take Kate too long to catch up.

Friday extras

Friday was an interesting day.

It began when I turned off my alarm at 5:00 and went back to sleep.

Then Garry's alarm rang at 6:30 and the day really started.  He got Zach ready for a field trip in Denver and I jumped on the treadmill downstairs.  But first I had to move some of Thursday's laundry.

Four miles/42 minutes later, I jumped off the treadmill and headed upstairs.  Garry had delivered Zach to school by 7:15, but not before receiving my friend April's three kids and setting them up with a TV show.  (April rocked a half marathon in Pennsylvania this weekend.)

Pretty soon another friend showed up to take Jacob to school.  Abigail (5) and Benjamin (2) spent the day with the three Littles and me.  After I showered and ate breakfast, I made them turn off the TV.

The kids played pretty well together, at least when Gavin was quarantined in time-out. He had a hard time getting along with our visiting small folk.  At one point I released him to try again, and I set about doing something or other.  The house got waaaay too quiet.  A little detective work turned up five children huddled around three bags of Halloween candy...behind a locked bathroom door.  Gavin again.

Lunch was a little crazy--lots of macaroni and cheese, spilled milk, and grapes all over the floor--and then, after some hearty outdoor play, Abigail went to school, Benj and Kate took naps, and a new friend, six-year-old Caleb (whose sweet mama just had surgery), joined Gavin and Lexi in the basement for the afternoon.  I worked on my Young Women lesson.

Caleb introduced Gavin to the miracle of quiet play...with the marble run, pipes and connectors, and foosball.  Gavin gave himself a black eye on the coffee table.

Lexi was out of sorts.  She played a game and worked some puzzles on the desk next to me, and then she fell asleep.

After school, Abigail and Jacob came back to our house.  Zach and Tyler were lucky enough to go to their friends' house for a couple of hours.  Still, seven kids six and under was plenty to keep the place hopping...sometimes quite literally.

At one point I heard crazy thumping in the basement.  I couldn't figure out the source of the sound, so I investigated.  Gavin had introduced his captive audience to the wonders of jumping from the crawl space entrance to his bed (a distance of about five feet, plus the elevation change).  

We reconvened in the outdoors.  Everyone found some wheels, or something bouncy, or a swing, or something else, for entertainment.  All was right in the world.

The children that don't officially belong to me went home around 5:30, which is when Zach and Tyler returned.  Sometime during the course of the evening, Gavin decided out of nowhere that he wanted to read all by himself.  Having waited patiently for nearly a year (his last academic surge was in January), I was glad to see his motivation for such things return.  He read "BOB" books for the rest of the night.

And then I went out for frozen yogurt by myself, watched TV for a while, and went to bed early.

The end.

Halloween in stages

Halloween is a holiday that seems to repeat itself for about a week.  The first celebration is always the most fun and exciting, but every iteration after that loses its savor...at least for me.  Here's how it all went down at our house.

{Many thanks to Garry's sister, Heidi, for making Kate's costume, and to Janae Daniels, who let us borrow, for Gavin and Lexi, the costumes she made for her kids last year.}

Stage One: Carving pumpkins (Sunday).  We only carved three, since Zach and Gavin would do theirs at school parties.  Zach researched cool designs.  Tyler designed and carved his own--solo.  Zach carved Lexi's. He did a great job!

Stage Two: Lexi's preschool party.  The Jessie costume was a huge hit, and this was the only time Lexi wore the costume in its entirety.  She and her classmates paraded around the neighborhood before enjoying Halloween games and snacks.

Stage Three: Ward Fall Festival (plus trick-or-trunking).  Garry's chili won the "most tasty" award for the night.  The kids dressed up as Princess Leia, Jessie, Woody, a vampire, a Morph Dude (?), and Garry was static cling.  Everyone had a blast.  It was warm enough to trunk-or-treat outside.  We only brought home one fish.  I was on the set-up and clean-up crew, thanks to my new Young Women assignment in the ward.  It's been a while!

Stage Four: Gavin's (and the other boys') school parties.  Gavin refused to wear his Woody costume, so he went as a baseball player.  The girls and I attended Gavin's party.  We carved his pumpkin (which was already hollowed out) in three minutes flat.  Zach broke the zipper on his morph suit at the ward party, so for school he dressed in black and purple and Garry spray painted his hair.

Stage Five: Trick-or-treating and lunch at Dad's new office.  We enjoyed yummy food.  The kids watched a movie on the big screen in the break room, then went from office to office collecting candy because they were cute.  It was fun to see where Garry works now.

Stage six: Halloween night.  We joined the Teeples family and many ward friends for an outdoor dinner and socializing around the fire pit.  The kids trick-or-treated in the surrounding neighborhoods.  Garry took the girls home early.  The kids went home happy, exhausted, and in possession of great hoards of candy, which I am determined not to eat.

I'm glad that all of the Halloween festivities only spanned two days (plus the pumpkin carving).  It was a super hectic two days, but now it's over.

Now on to Thanksgiving!

All in a day's work

At 5:15 I was at my wits' end with the little kids, so I put them in the bathtub.  They splashed and played in the bubbly water, made beards and mowhawks, and looked all cute and angelic for about ten minutes.  Then Gavin knocked Kate under the water, which she didn't really appreciate, so I took her across the hall for a diaper and pajamas.  In the 60 seconds or so it took to accomplish that mission, Gavin emptied half of the tub water onto the bathroom's wood floor.  When I returned there was about an inch of standing water.

Unfortunately, an inch of standing water in the bathroom means a deluge of "rain" above the washer and dryer downstairs.  The first time this happened, I totally overreacted. Today I calmly used a huge pile of towels to mop up the bathroom and then took them downstairs to catch the rain.

And of course I sent Gavin to his bedroom until dinner.

This little incident came at the end of a long day of mischief and mayhem for the middle child.  During lunch, Gavin smeared his spaghetti all over the table and floor, and crumbled his whole cupcake, sprinkling the remains in a six-foot radius around his chair. (Note: I had JUST swept.)  Then he totally wrecked Kate's jack-o-lantern on the front porch, dug up my flower bed, and filled the pumpkins with dirt.  He also used red and orange stamps to cover himself and his sisters with ink.  The ink likely ruined three shirts, and it isn't coming out of Lexi's white hair.

I AM SO DONE.

Good night.

funnies

Commentary on our barefoot lifestyle:

Lexi: Mom, where are you going?

Mom: Nowhere.

Lexi: Then why do you have shoes on?  Why does Dad have shoes on?

Mom: Because it's freezing.

Lexi: But where are you going?

...

On growing up:

Lexi: I'm gonna be a mama someday.

Mom: Yes, you are!

Lexi: I'm gonna drive when I'm a mama.

Mom: That's right.  What else will you do?

Lexi: Fix dinner.

Mom: What else?

Lexi: Be in bed with Daddy.

...

Grocery shopping with Gavin:

...

Tyler showed up like this after riding his scooter home from school.  When I asked why he wasn't wearing his coat (it was 32 degrees), he said he wasn't cold.

...

Speaking of cold, we got out the winter gear.  Our house will look like this for six months.

...

After the first real snow of the season (last Thursday, October 25), I was really hoping we wouldn't have a snow day.  The boys turned their pajamas inside out, flushed ice cubes down the toilet, and did a snow dance, but my wish came true.  Garry left me a note on the bathroom mirror Friday morning:

...

On the upcoming ward Halloween party:

Gavin: Malcolm told me about something so cool at the church.  It's where people get in the trunks of their cars for candy.

Mom:  Oh, yeah?

Gavin:  Yeah!  It's called trick-or-trunking!