Seriously Gross

     I have boys. I can handle gross. I'm prepared for what lies ahead as my minions branch out on their own adventures and bring home a story worth retelling. I already have well used mason jars stashed under my sink, dimpled lids, ready to catch what dares to enter my parched summer yard.

     But for now its damp and chilly. Rainy days and overcast skies. Comprised immune systems and raw noses. Elderberry, Echinacea, Astragalus, and many more compounds are stashed in the fridge and dosed daily (okay, well I ATTEMPT to at least). Our goal in a modern medicine world is to see our pediatrician on a regular basis, at church, without his doctor bag. Yet with iron clad immune systems, we are still vulnerable to the world we live in. How do you convince a toddler that the Target shopping cart is not a chew toy?!?! Sorry, I regress.... So we were SLAMMED with the dreaded stomach bug.

    It was horrible.

 A death angel disguised in body fluids. 

     We(Rugged Artist included) quarantined the family and immersed ourselves in revolving laundry and TLC. At one point I called in back up and Grandmother stepped in and helped out this frazzled momma. But Alas she too succumb(bless her heart).

     Finally things have begun to right themselves. Our Alabama winter has smiled on us too. We basked in the sunshine with clear heads and calm tummies. Dump trucks and back-hoes were dragged outside and put to work. 

We sought out lingering mud puddles. 

We visited our neighbors, grandparents and great-grandparents. 

   

Windows were left open, 

  all surfaces scrubbed and scrubbed again,

 fresh laundry put in its proper place,

  and war casualties stacked on the porch ready for the dumpster. 

 I'll sleep well tonight.

What's your best remedy, go-to, clean-up, recovery for such a time as this?

Love Collecting Box

     Valentine Day has come and gone with little fan fair at our home. Sick kids and busy schedules and maybe HOLLYWOOD has just put to much emphasis on what should or could or would be the "idealistic form of Valentines." As I was browsing through new and favorite blogs and catching up on the fantastical lives of the world wide web mommas, I came across an endearing idea that even MY Valentine agreed was brilliant. The post is a great one, but skip on down to

How to Make a Love-Collecting Box and then go back and read the whole post.  Now I'm headed to dig through my yard sale piles for just the right box...

     FOR the record, my Rugged Artist, did bring home beautiful flowers and my OWN bag of chocolates to savor.   

 “His mouth is full of sweetness. And he is wholly desirable. This is my beloved and this is my friend.” ~Song of Solomon 5:16

Spotlight on Little D

Personalities are a shew in from birth. We don't see the whole picture, but God knit each of us in the womb to be unique and special. David took 18 hours to get here and that same lax-a-daze attitude still persists. It works in his favor and against him. He loathes moving fast, picking up toys, or going to sleep-- be it nap OR bedtime. He isn't too tainted when big bro swats a toy, little bro is announcing he is overdue on a diaper change, or is introduced to new friends or a new environment. He is also a magnet to mud puddles, specially when he is in his Sunday Best. Thankfully we have a good investment in rubber boots. I relish the thought that when I grow old and he flies the coop, I'll look back and chuckle. Memories of a boy who was never able to hide, emotions or whatever he ate at his last meal encrusted above his lip or swiped across his cheek. Which brings me to the point of this post...

Tonight, David did not want to go to sleep. Whining, requests for a drink, muffled kicks on the wall, teasing big brother, and playing with forbidden toys. Tick-ticking off the minutes and frustrating his exhaustive loving parents. I finally gave in and chose to rock my toddler and his bulky blanket. If orchestrated by David, he would be rocked every night. It's his secret vice as sure as a caramel white chocolate latte is mine. If not for endless dirty dishes, oatmeal encrusted highchairs, carpets pleading for a vacuum, and crumpled clean laundry long overdue for a home, I would gladly indulge such treats on a more regular basis. 

 I attempt to fold him into the confines of the rocking chair armrests. I relish stroking his blonde silky hair. But my baby child has grown.

His legs cascade down my legs. His head feels heavy nestled in the crook of my arm. His droopy eyelids and chit chat give away his age. We rock and his smug smile never disappears. Eventually I give up and tuck him back in to bed awake but relaxed. Maybe it will usher him into dreamland soon. I'll have double dish duty in the morn. It was worth it.

I know I KNOW, they wont be young forever.

C is for...

C is for Cuties. I may not dress my boys in smocked collars (to the relief of my husband), but I WILL dress my boys in "cutsie" look-a-like t-shirts for as long as I can get away with it!! My sweet Aunt sent these our way and of course I was thrilled. Here are my growing, always hungry, never tired, full of questions God given boys....

C is also for Chores! Something that is new on the Metcalfe horizon. I believe that the best way to "train a child in the way he should go" is to start young and with a great attitude! Sure chores will always be chores. I STILL grumble at my revolving list of household duties, but find my HEART'S attitude can make or break my day. Here we have a cheerful giver of time and effort! :)

Jumpin'

I've been busy chasing children and often my brain can't catch up. I write thrilling blog posts in my head and never make it to a keyboard. I do apologize and will try to do better. Here are the boys enjoying the rare winter sunshine on their Christmas present from grandparents and great-grands.

We are all looking forward to camp outs and star gazing on our fabulous trampoline as the weather warms!!