calls from the couch

I’m pretty sure I just heard Obed fall out of bed.

And I’m pretty sure it would take blood curtling screams for me to go check it out.

Today has been one of those days, (which honestly feels like… a  lot of days… many days… most days) when I’m on my last thread of patience.  And at multiple points during the day, that last thread meets its end and I am left with no patience.  I’m mainly surviving, not thriving, and trying semi successfully to stay above water.

That was today.  And other days this week.

I don’t have a story to tell tonight.  No funny antidote that made the day salvageable that I can tell about.  I just have me, sitting on the couch, end of day, no energy.  I have no ambition to pick up toys.  There’s a napkin on the floor by the dining room table that I’m pretty darn sure will still be there in the morning.  Obed’s chair is filled with left over pancakes that was supper tonight.  That will still be there tomorrow too.  Dang, we need a dog.

Jeff is gone again tonight.  My least favorite nights.  I got four kids in pajamas.  Technically, two kids in pajamas.  One kid I had to coach, one kid just did it on their own.  Made them pick up all the books strewn across the bedroom floor which were making it impossible to walk.  “MAMA WHY DO YOU MAKE US ALWAYS PICK EVERYTHING UP??”  Because I’m the meanest of mothers.  Made every single one brush their teeth amidst howls of protest and “WHY DO WE HAVE TO BRUSH OUR TEETH EVERY NIGHT??”  Oh the horror.  I did manage one story, because today is Good Friday and you kind of have to read the story.  Shortest prayer ever.  Every one gets a kiss.

Questions start.  “When will Daddy be home?  Will he snuggle us when he gets home?  Can I call Daddy?”

“Ok only one more question.”

I don’t even remember the question.  It was probably about Daddy.

“OK that was the last question.  No more questions.”

My parting words… “Obed, DO NOT get out of bed.”

Light off.  Door shut.  Downstairs, fall on the couch.

That’s it.

This is just me venting.  It really serves no purpose and I probably sound like I’m whining, which I am.  I’m worn out and tired.  I’m not even going to post this on Facebook.  If you’re reading this, it’s because you must truly find my blog interesting and have checked to see if I’ve posted anything.  Bless you, my One Faithful Reader, bless you.

Good night.


And All the Angels Sang

Tonight my heart sang like I’m pretty sure angels in heaven sing their praises.

Today Ava asked me if she could get baptized.  (this in itself was not what made my heart sing, as good of a thing that is…)  This question by Ava was a little surprising since a few months ago Ava had said she didn’t ever want to get baptized because it seemed scary and she didn’t want to get wet.  So when she brought it up this afternoon, I wondered what had changed.  She then asked what happens when you get baptized and could we watch a video of someone getting baptized?  So we looked up a YouTube video.  You never know what will come up when you search YouTube, but I clicked on a safe looking video.  We watched a few minutes and that was it.

Tonight at dinner she brought up getting baptized again.  We talked about it some more.

“Ava, you get baptized after you’ve asked Jesus into your heart and to forgive your sins.  Have you done that?”


“When did you ask Him into your heart?”

She thought really hard for a minute and you could tell she was having a hard time.  I started to wonder if she had actually made this step on her own or if it was just something that she’s heard over and over.

“Weeellll, I can’t remember the exact day, but one day while I was still six, I was standing by the window and I just prayed!  I asked Jesus to come into my heart and he forgave my sin.  I was six and a half, like I am now.  I was standing by this window right here just looking outside and I prayed.”

And then I knew that she really had.  Because I don’t remember the exact day either, but I remember my five year old self and I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing and what I prayed.  Thirty two years later, I still remember all of that.  And if she could tell me where she was and what she was doing, then it wasn’t just an idea that she’s heard over and over.  She’s really asked Jesus into her heart for herself.

And the truth is, over the past while, I’ve seen a change in Ava.  While she’s far from perfect, she’s changed in a way that I honestly just the other day wondered about.  At the time I thought maybe she’s just growing up, maybe all my prayers for a better attitude have finally been answered!  Because her attitude has changed…. thank you Jesus!

“And Mom, I used to be afraid to get baptized, but that was before I prayed.  Now I’m still a little scared, but not that scared at all.”

This, friends, is one of the best days of my whole life.  That my kids would choose to for themselves to follow Jesus, to recognize their need for a Savior and desire eternal life, to know His voice and choose to obey it… this is truly my greatest heart desire for my kids.

And so tonight my heart (and my eyes) burst with tears of joy knowing that one has chosen Him.  And now my prayers will change for Ava that she would walk close with Jesus all the days of her life.


I Only Wanted White Bins

Lately I’ve gotten into watching home organization and cleaning videos on YouTube.  I find them wildly inspiring, yet I remain strangely unproductive in the organizing and cleaning aspects of life.  This probably stems from the fact that I am not by nature a highly organized person.  I like tidy, I like neat, I like pretty, but I’ve come to terms people… I pretty much stink at maintaining.  I lay blame 50% on my nature, 50% on the four rugrats I have running around these days.  Anyway, I’ve heard you should never stop learning, striving, becoming… and so I continue to watch my videos in earnest.

My lady over at DoItOnADime says that the Dollar Tree is the greatest place ever to get organized.  EVER.  I believe her.  Just this morning I organized (Did you just read that… I ORGANIZED.  Jeff, that’s for you) the freezer using the two white plastic wash bins I got at a Dollar Tree a good 6 years ago.   Worked PERFECT!  Which means I’m now down two bins (I use those for soaking Obed’s endless stack of dirty shirts) and I have plans… PLANS! I tell you, for more organizing with white plastic wash bins, since I’ve had one success and all.

So after picking Ava up from school, I decided to stop at the Dollar Tree to pick up more bins.  It’s conveniently located right on the way home from her school.

You guys, I now have four kids.  FOUR KIDS!!!!  I pretty much refuse to stop anywhere these days with four kids.  But I’ve had a cold the last few days and I think my mind was feeling extra cloudy or something because I’m stopping at Dollar Tree.

We head inside.

Here is a visual.  I’m hauling a car seat on one arm.  Obed has one of those kid leash things with a monkey that’s supposed to be worn on the back, but he likes it on the front, so I’m pulling around a kid whose peering around a huge monkey strapped to his chest.  Ava and Oakley are running ahead and I’m yelling at them to wait up.  It’s like I don’t ever let them out or something.  SHEESH.

We are inside the Dollar Tree.

Right at the front of the store are the helium balloons.


Me: Oakley, why are you talking so loud???  Use your quiet voice.  We are not getting a balloon today.

Oakley:  WHHHYYYYY??????

I’ve now deposited the car seat into a *tiny* cart.  It doesn’t really fit, mostly just precariously balances on the edges.  Lets just look for our bins.  I start down an aisle only to have Obed protest and pull the other way.

Obed:  Oooonn,  oooonnnn.  (read Balloon, Balloon)

Me: No balloon.

Obed drops like a rag onto the floor, full on wet noodle effect, monkey and all, kicking his legs once he’s down.



Somehow I manage to get Obed upright and headed down an aisle in search of the white bins.




“Can you guys PLEASE use your quiet voices???!”

Someone has left some sort of flat cart in the first aisle we head down.  This looks pretty much like a luggage cart, which Obed got a couple rides on while at a hotel recently.  He is now trying to climb onto the cart.

“No Obed, we aren’t playing on this.  Come on, let’s keep going.”


Dollar Tree is small, so you wouldn’t think it would take much time to find the bins but after several trips up and down the aisles and several, and I mean several, minutes… still no bins.  I ask the ladies at the front.

“Oh I’m sorry, we’re all out of those bins.  They should be back in stock next week.”


Now, you’d think that we’d just leave but I had, for some reason, told the kids they could pick out a treat.  So to the toy aisle we head.


“Oakley, you do not need to talk so loud.  Quiet voice!”

15 minutes later, we are still in the toy aisle.  Who knew there were so many “great” finds at Dollar Tree, it’s so hard to pick just one!  I feel like the cartoons where the character is hitting their head continually on a wall.

“Okay, one more minute to pick something and then it’s time to go.”

Everyone finds the perfect item, we make it to the front, and after some scuffling about how I’m not paying for every. single. item. individually, we finally leave the store.

41 minutes people.  I was in Dollar Tree for 41 minutes.  FOUR KIDS.


I was finishing up this blog, typing away in the office only to hear rustling in the refrigerator.  I had earlier locked Obed out of the office because he kept messing with the keyboard and mouse while I was typing and that was DRIVING ME NUTS.  Now I could only assume he was helping himself to something in the fridge.

This is what I find after coming out of the office:


Here’s what you’re looking at.  Obed had decided to take everything off of the bottom two shelves.  He was currently in the process of moving everything from the door onto the now empty lower shelves of the fridge.


I cannot make this stuff up people.



Escaping to Cupcakes

Today was one of those days that every “well seasoned” parent tells you that you’ll look back on and miss… laugh at… have fond memories of.  Maybe.  The fact that I’m going to write about it probably proves that I see the humor, but you guys… today was… A DAY.


I like to read the news in the morning.  When I was a kid, it was the newspaper.  Since we don’t get a newspaper now, I like to read internet news sites.  Not the questionable ones, real news, so I know what’s going on in the world.  It’s just what I like to do.  So after dropping Ava off at school, I came home and settled in the office to read the news and watch some news clips.   Several minutes later, Obed comes into the office and I hear him crunching on something.  I look over at him and realize he is EATING EGG SHELLS.  He has more broken shells in both hands.  WHAT??!!

I jump up, scoop him up, take away the shells and try to fish out what’s left in his mouth.  Gross kid.  We rush into the kitchen.  There I see the egg carton open on the counter, and eggs smashed on the floor.  Awesome.  From what I can tell, there are seems to be three eggs smashed on the floor and two remaining in the carton.  If memory serves me right (and lets be honest, these days… it pretty much doesn’t) there were six eggs left after breakfast this morning.  I have yet to find the missing egg.  Also, I’m really hoping Obed doesn’t get salmonella or E Coli or whatever comes from eating raw eggs.


After picking Ava up from school, we come home for lunch.  Stepping into the house, I hear that super annoying chirping that tells you you have a smoke detector running out of battery.  It sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen, and I’m all too happy to take the battery out of that thing.  That smoke detector is the bane of my existence.  It’s the most sensitive fire alarm EVER.  I swear, at least 4 or 5 nights a week, that thing goes off while I’m cooking dinner.  AND IT’S NOT BECAUSE I’M BURNING DINNER.  But it sure makes me feel like a lousy cook every time I open the oven door and then all the sudden the smoke alarm is going off.  Sheesh.  Talk about a confidence killer.  So I pretty much have a love/hate relationship with the smoke detector… love that it will surely tell us when there is even a hint of fire danger, hate that it’s like a running commentary on my cooking EVERY FREAKING NIGHT.

I take the battery out and then Oakley starts in with the questions:

What’s that?  Why are you doing that?  What’s a battery?  Why won’t it work without the battery?  Why was that beeping?  Why did you take it down?  Why won’t it work???  Why was it beeping???

AUGGGHHHH!  “Baby, no more questions.”

We have lunch.  Then I attempt to make some sort of order out of the chaos that is the kitchen.  This generally feels like a losing battle, but I try.  Emptying the dishwasher is the first order of business.  Putting away the silverware is my least favorite part of the dishwasher, thus it’s become a kid chore.

“Hey, Ava and Oakley… who wants a quarter for putting away the silverware?”

This is technically Ava’s chore, but she hasn’t been great on actually doing the job of silverware and I know that Oakley will jump at the chance to do Ava’s job, thus either getting it done for me, or enticing her to do it too.  Sure enough, both kids want to help put away the silverware.  Which of course causes an argument.  Three arguments actually.  Who’s going to do the job (you both will work together), who’s going to hand the silverware over and who’s going to put them away, and who gets to do the other utensils.  SHEESH.  I’m getting a headache.

I tell Oakley he gets to put way the “kid” silverware.  He apparently doesn’t think the chair Ava is standing on is good enough because before I know it, he’s trying to get the fold-up stool out from the corner behind the trash can.  Just as I’m telling him to not do that because the trash can is going to tip over… the trash can tips over.  It was full.  It was stinky.  And now it’s all over the floor.


All the while, Obed is standing on the open dishwasher door, also trying to “help”, which basically means taking things out of the dishwasher and throwing them on the floor.  NOT HELPING DUDE.  I have to get paper towels out from under the sink and soon Obed is pouncing on the hand broom and dust pan that’s stored under there too.  He has a thing for brooms.  Pretty soon he is helping clean up the garbage mess.  Helping.

Ava and Oakley did figure out how to work together quite nicely so that was a redeeming factor for the whole event.

BEEP……… BEEP………  What the….  Yes.  Another smoke detector is now malfunctioning.  This time upstairs where there are three smoke detectors within 2 feet of each other. (the hall and two bedrooms).  Trying to figure out which one is beeping should be easy, but let me tell you, more times than once, Jeff and I have stood up there trying to figure out which one is making noise, take out a battery, and it’s not the right one.

I don’t have any more fight left for the smoke detectors.  We live with the BEEP for the rest of the afternoon.


one cute moment from the day


Playing together makes many things right



Five nights a week, Jeff is not home for dinner.  Dinner has become my least favorite part of the day when Jeff isn’t going to be home and tonight he’s not home.  I become a really mean person at dinner time… probably because little kids WEAR YOU OUT.  And by dinner, I have no more patience. I just want to eat in peace but there is no peace at dinner.

Obed has a bad habit of sitting in his highchair and SCREAMING like a TORTURED MONKEY until he gets his food.  Trust me, that alone is enough to put you over the edge.  Add in two other crazies, more food ending up on the floor than should be necessary in any circumstance, and complaints about not liking what’s for supper… it’s enough to send me to the crazy farm.

Because of all this, I spent 10 minutes after dinner hiding in the basement eating a cupcake… because sometimes you just have to ESCAPE THE CHAOS.


Tonight, bedtime is at 6:45… usually it’s 7:30.  But tonight, 6:45.  Yes.  All the kids had been upstairs playing while I finished the dishes in the kitchen.  When I finally make it upstairs, I’m met in the hallway with Obed holding the potty pot and Ava telling me that Obed has been playing in the toilet.  Oh good heavens… yes, he’s taken taken it upon himself to empty the potty pot into the toilet.  From what I can tell, he managed to actually get the pee into the toilet for the most part, but then decided it was a good idea to play in the water.  Or possibly the unemptied pee as well because he now smells like urine.  SO GROSS.

WHEN WILL IT END??!?!?!?!?!?

It ends at 7:10 when everyone is in bed, I have no energy for more than one Bible story and the most generic prayer I’ve possibly ever prayed in my life.

The end.

More than once today I thought “I could be sitting in an office right now.  I could be wearing nice clothes and high heels and pretty hair instead of an old fleece shirt and velor pants with ugly hair, and dealing with adults and being productive and fighting the headache of the copy machine running out of toner rather than all this baloney.”  I sure could be.  Today was really, really trying.  And I’m whining about it in this post… even though I see the humor in some of these things, I’m whining.  But deep down, I know it’s really not about me, what would be easier for me, what would be more fun for me.  Deep down, I really do believe that what I’m doing now is making a difference, and besides, it’s what I think I’m supposed to be doing, what God wants me to be doing and what is best for our family.  And Lord knows I can’t see or quantify my efforts now and most days I feel like I’m totally failing and someone else would do a better job than me teaching and loving these kiddos.  But they got me, for better or for worse.

So lets hope that Obed doesn’t get salmonella poisoning from eating raw egg shells, we can figure out which smoke detector needs a battery and tomorrow, maybe, just maybe, Jeff can BE HOME FOR DINNER.





Fairy Princess Ball 2015

If there’s one thing Ava and I like to do together, it’s get fancy.  If there’s ever an excuse to put in a little extra effort, we’ll take it.  Ava has been wearing my necklaces to school lately… because she likes to be a little fancy.  I love pulling out the napkin rings and candle sticks and plate chargers… because I like to be a little fancy.  So whenever there’s an event where we get to be fancy, we’re all over it.

Yesterday Ava and I went to the Fairy Princess Ball, a mother/daughter event that is put on for the benefit of the Children’s Cancer Center at Essentia Health.  And it’s right up our alley.

Half the fun of going to these events is the ‘getting ready’ time.  I love getting ready for fancy parties.  Basically, every thing about being a girl, I love; and because Ava watches me, she loves it too.  Our prep time started out with hair and make-up.  As Ava watched me put on foundation and blush, I knew what was coming.

“Mama, can I put on some makeup too??”

I know she very badly wanted to do this.  My mom had a pretty strict no-make-up-until-you’re-16 rule growing up, so I always have a hesitancy in the back of my head.

“Well Ava, little girls don’t need make up.  They are just beautiful without it.”

“Yeah, but mama’s are beautiful without it too.”

To-shay, Ava, To-shay.  “Yes, you’re right.  Mama’s don’t really need make-up either.  But it’s just fun to wear isn’t it.”

And then I gave in.  I showed her three eye shadows she could choose from (she chose the golden pearl “because it’s golden and sparkly”), swept the blush brush over her cheeks and helped her put on a little lip gloss.  The truth is, you’d never know she was wearing any make up at all, but it made her feel special and extra pretty and I think deep down, that’s what every girl likes and wants to feel.  We curled our hair, Ava put up with the hair spray, and we went to get dressed.

Now, the night before, I pulled every fancy dress I have out of my closet, which is a whooping two and a half… “half” because I’m not sure how fancy one of them really is.  My baby belly ruled out two and I was super thankful to even have one that would mostly work.  You can’t go to a fancy ball without somewhat of a fancy dress.

As I started to get dressed, I searched through my drawers for a pair of pantyhose.  I used to own what seemed like 100’s of pairs of pantyhose when I worked… but that’s starting to be a long, long time ago now and as I searched, I realized I don’t own a single pair of nylons anymore.  And as I thought about it, I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually worn a pair of nylons.  Geez!

Running to CVS for pantyhose was not in the plan.  And standing in the pantyhose aisle for 10 minutes trying to remember what brand I used to love wasn’t the plan either.  I finally decided to go with the one whose box boldly stated “RUN RESISTANT”  Because getting a run in your pantyhose is just the worst.  Seriously.  So if you’re “RUN RESISTANT” than you’re what I’m looking for.

So pantyhose procured, dress on, I emerge from the bedroom to my waiting audience of Ava and Oakley.  They give me the once over.  “Ooooo, Mommy, you look so pretty!”  Then “Are you wearing a sweater with that?  People are going to be able to see your shoulders… and your chest… and… everything!”

Well, now.  I didn’t actually think my dress was that scandalous and I knew compared to other dresses that would be there, it would probably be pretty modest.  While it was strapless, the neckline was pretty high and the hemline was to my knees.  But we’ve had lots of talks about a certain Barbie who ended up in the trash can because her top was too low and her skirt was too high and her make up too…everything.  So if my kids thought I wasn’t covered enough then that was a problem and I wasn’t about to un-teach any modesty lessons just because I liked my dress the way it was.

I don’t have a sweater that would match, but how about a shawl?”  They thought this was an ok idea.

Again, I had to dig deep into the bowels of my closet because this stuff doesn’t come out very often.  I found the shawl I was looking for and put it on.  Ava and Oakley confirmed I was appropriately covered and it was time to go.  The truth is, I felt better with the shawl on too.  Good fashion advice Ava and Oakley!

IMG_6563Ready for the Ball!IMG_6565IMG_6566

 Probably the only belly pic that will happen with #4.  18 weeks!

The ball itself was so much fun.  Whoever plans this event does such a fantastic job every year and they really go all out.  This year there was a live jazz band and two (what seemed to be) professional singers.  They had craft stations for painting and picture frame making, a photo booth, face painting, and a caricature artist.  The sit down dinner was delicious, Ava was excited to be able to drink out of a fancy glass (ie stemware) and declared the punch was “so delicious… I LOVE it!  We sat with fun friends and really had the best time.

IMG_6580This year Ava was not so silly in the photo booth, but she still loved it enough to go back twice.


IMG_6568How is this beauty mine?!!?  Getting ready for our fancy dinner with “fancy glasses” (ie: stemware)

Then came the dancing.  This DJ knew his audience.  He played everything from Disney theme songs, to Taylor Swift, to Backstreet Boys.  I’m telling you, when the Backstreet Boys came on, it was like I was 17 and at prom all over again.  Except this was way better than any prom I’d ever been to, mostly because by the time you’re 35, you don’t care how you look when you dance, you just bust it out.  And when you’re 5, you don’t care how you look when you dance, you just bust it out.  Me and Ava were dancing fools.

We left that party two happy campers and on the drive home were already talking about how much we’re looking forward to next year.

I love being able to do these things with Ava.  I love having a little girl and I hope that as she grows up, she’ll still like doing this stuff with me too.





Jeff and I had what you might call a tumultuous dating relationship.  Over the course of four or five months,  I think we broke up and got back together three or four times.  One of those breakups may or may not have been over whether we would have children if we got married.  Jeff was firmly in the family camp; I was, to be generous, a leery bystander.  I was 27, really loved my independence, and knew from first hand experience how much work kids were.  My youngest sister was born when I was 13.   She turned 5 the fall I left for college.  So there was no illusion on my part on how much work babies, toddlers, preschoolers are.  I also knew if I had kids, I just couldn’t see sending them off to daycare.  So I knew life as I knew it… carefree, spur-of-the-moment… one might say self centered… would be over.

After the last break up and before the final get-back-together, Jeff had a whole list of questions he asked me.  A printed list.  It was like a job interview.  Seriously.  A girlfriend job interview.  The kid question was on the list.

“Well, I’m either having no kids or I want a whole bunch… like five or something.  If you’re going to have kids, you might as well have a team of them.”

That was my answer.

I’m not sure Jeff heard the whole answer.  I think he heard… “Yes, kids.  How about two.”  Because for some reason Jeff thought we would/should only have two kids.  Probably because he thought two was enough… just like he thought I would do laundry every week… or that I would pack my suitcase earlier than two hours before departure…there may have been some plugged ears during our premarital counseling…


Here’s the deal.  I come from a big family.  I thought it was a normal family, but as it turns out, no… not really normal.  Both my parents come from big families.  I have a total of 13 uncles, 2 aunts, and something like 37 (first) cousins.  This is not counting my aunts’ and uncles’ spouses or my cousins’ spouses.  This is only full on blood relatives.  And it’s a blast.  I love the chaos and noise and laughter and EVERYTHING when our family gets together.  There’s kids tumbling all over, no room to sit, it’s awesome.  Two kids just didn’t seem like enough chaos to make a fun family in my opinion.

So here we are, 8 years into marriage and so far three kiddos have arrived.  Every single one of them planned and sent by the Good Lord himself.  The reality is, Jeff and I have not “planned” the arrival of any of our kids.  All three have come at what seemed like really inconvenient times, or in Oakley’s case… very delayed.  But I’ve loved the surprise of not planning any of them and the truth is, I don’t want to be in control.  I want every single blessing God wants to send me, whether that’s in the form of children, unexpected friendships, little daily surprises, I want it all.  And if I’m the one planning out life, well, I think I miss out sometimes.

Which brings me to the point of this whole post.  You can’t have a team of three, you’ve got to have at least four.  God must have really taken me seriously when I told Jeff I wanted a team because SURPRISE! our number 4 is on their way.  We’ll now be set up for badminton, doubles ping pong, maxed out all players for board games, etc.  Everyone will have a buddy.  Go big or go home, right??

Congratulations for reading this all the way to the end.  There should be a little confetti or something in celebration.

Let the wonderful chaos continue.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, Ava is praying for a sister (so she won’t have to be alone in the bath tub anymore.)  Oakley says if it’s a boy, he’s calling it Clifford.  And if it’s a girl, he’s calling her Clifford.  Ava suggested names were Elizabeth or Truman.  I don’t think any kids will be naming this baby.

PS: Babe is due to arrive late September 2015.  Prayers appreciated.  The truth is, Ava’s medical stuff has scarred me a bit and I have a lot of fear surrounding my heart concerning my children.  I don’t want to go through this whole pregnancy with fear hanging on me that something is wrong, will go wrong, could be wrong.

And, as much as I love the chaos, the thought of taking care of four kids is a little overwhelming.  That’s a lot of kids to wrangle and keep track of… even though I’m what you may consider a “free range parent”.  Yikes.  I’m hoping a big payoff in 20 years!


The Terrible Threes

The kid books all talk about the terrible twos, but everyone I’ve ever talked to knows it’s really all about the terrible threes.

I feel like we kind of missed out on this a bit with Ava; mainly because when Ava turned three, there was too much other stuff to deal with to notice adverse behavior.  Everything she was dealing with was hard, so it wasn’t a surprise when she would breakdown.

Oakley, we are discovering, has turned out to be the classic example of the terrible threes.  It seems like the day after his birthday it all started to come out.  I should have been writing these down from the beginning because it’s pretty funny.  Here are a few examples of  Oakley’s “Terrible Threes”

* At supper tonight, Oakley wanted an ice cube added to his soup to cool it down.  He then sobbed because his ice cube melted.

* Emotional breakdown because I told him he could not drink his soup from the bowl.

* Sunday walking into church, sobbing because Jeff had gone ahead and was was not walking with him.

* At breakfast, requested powdered greens in his juice.  Sobbed because I gave him powdered greens in his juice.

* At nap time, wanted to go read a book.  Sobbed because it was time to read a book.

* At lunch, requested a grilled ham and cheese sandwich.  Sobbed because I made him a grilled ham and cheese sandwich.

* Getting ready to go outside, sobbed because he wasn’t sure his Lightening McQueen hat was facing the right direction.

There have been many more happenings, but I can’t remember them all.  For sure I’ll be writing these down.