Tag Archives: Bob

5:31

Five hours and thirty-one minutes.

For five hours and thirty-one minutes he pounded the pavement, putting his feet to his purpose. And for all those hours and all those miles, past crowds, houses, and fields in the November sun, he ran holding a sign in the air – “Chase Away Cancer”.

And he told me tonight, though he kept his headphones in his ears, he never needed them as he talked to the people around him. People who came alongside him to talk about his sign because they were survivors, neighbors, family, friends – each one a person whose life had been touched by cancer. They saw him identifying with it in his sign and they identified with him as they all ran together.

And this morning, as he geared up and prepared to walk out the door, Chase and his fuzzy head stumbled down the stairs before the sun was up, urging him to run fast, not slow down, and “Run like me, Dad”. And then Chase covered his fuzzy head against the frost and cold and stepped out along the route to cheer the runners on, holding a sign alongside his crazy, cheering grandfather, proclaiming that “sweat is liquid awesome”.

Five hours and thirty-one minutes later, Bob crossed the finish line for Chase and fighters and parents and friends everywhere. And he wasn’t alone. You put your hearts into this race with him, and today, nearly $5,000 dollars went to St. Baldrick’s in their tireless efforts to chase cancer far, far, away.

THANK YOU.

IMG_7625

Chase’s Story [VIDEO]

Have you ever seen this video of Chase?

If not, I highly recommend it.  And even if so, feel free to watch it again…  We have been so blessed to partner with the St. Baldrick’s Foundation this year and are continually thankful for the platform they give us to share Chase’s story with so many.

-MbM-

[Our deepest gratitude to the incomparable Matthew Lackey for his mad, crazy video skills.  Also, a huge thank you to both Jane Hoppen and Kristen Thies for all they did to put together the finished product and the time spent filming it.]

Catching Up On Perspective

As I break my non-blogging streak and think about the last several weeks, I find myself reflecting on perspective.  I will get to that in a minute…

On March 25, Chase had his ear surgery.  We don’t yet know how successful it was (he will have a follow-up hearing test at the end of May), but as we sat in post-op, he turned to me and said “Mom! I can hear!”  I cried.  His expressing this was all the more amazing because we had prepared him for putting tubes in his ears, but we didn’t set him up for any results.

That moment in post-op

That moment in post-op

PoisonWe finished four days of chemo on Thursday of that same week and just as we were so close to discharge that we could practically taste it (if hospital discharge orders were something you could eat), Chase spiked a fever and we had to stay for several more hours until the staff could better understand the cause of the fever.  Such are the hazards of having a central line.  We were finally discharged late that evening.  Chemo

Because we had spent those extra hours getting blood cultures and antibiotics started, when Chase spiked another fever around 3:00AM on Friday morning, it resulted in a simple phone conversation with the (incredibly gracious) oncologist on-call and not a summons to the emergency room.

That Saturday (the day before Easter), Chase again spiked a fever and by this time, his Thursday cultures needed to be redone and so we were sent to a local emergency room for blood work and more antibiotics.  A small part of me wondered why he never seems to get fevers in the middle of the morning.

Chase was mercifully discharged from the local ER around 12:30AM and we all got some sleep and were fever-free enough to go to church together on Easter Sunday morning.  One word: glorious…and refreshing…and encouraging (Okay, more than one word…because it really was that precious).

Happy Easter

Happy Easter

As we drove home from church, I glanced at my phone’s call log and saw the (way too) familiar area code…I had just missed a call from the hospital.  “There was a bacteria found in the culture from last night.  It’s in both lines and it’s growing fast.  I’m not saying you have to drop everything in this moment, but we need you to get Chase here sooner than later…and make sure to pack…you’ll be here overnight.”  …and just that quickly, the holiday was over.  We’d managed to stay out of a hospital for a whole twelve hours.  As we pulled out of our driveway minutes later -still in our Easter finery with our hastily packed bags- and we waved goodbye, I felt a weight descend…it shouldn’t be like this.

In the ER on Easter

In the ER on Easter

Chase cleared his infection (the origin of which was never completely known) and we were discharged within a couple days as he had no more fevers.  In fact, he was the only one in our family who stayed healthy as all the other kids went down with a high fever virus that lasted for several days.

During the same period, Chase’s counts dropped from the chemo and we were back in the day hospital for transfusions.  Chase was in isolation, but did have the privilege of meeting Chicago Blackhawks captain, Jonathan Toews.  Chase tried to offer him a basketball.  To Toews’ credit, the professional hockey player was very gracious.  That same day, the son of a dear friend was in surgery at the hospital.  Putting aside a long story for another blog full of interventions and orchestrations; if we hadn’t been there for transfusions, we would have missed a great moment to serve and encourage our friends.

Meeting Jonathan Toews. Note the basketball in hand. :) [photo courtesy of the Chicago Blackhawks Facebook page]

Meeting Jonathan Toews. Note the basketball in hand. :) [photo courtesy of the Chicago Blackhawks Facebook page]

Transfusions complete, we waited for days…just waiting for Chase to get hit with the virus that all the other kids had.  Then, we got a call from his nurse saying that they were all surprised to find out that he’d recovered from the chemo much sooner than expected and he didn’t need any more transfusions.  Translated: we could stay home and rest.  The worst of the cycle was over.

We rested all week and then returned this past Tuesday for the big, under-anesthesia, check-the-whole-brain-and-spine MRI.  After three months, was the cancer still staying at bay?  Would there be a recurrence seen in the pictures?  No.  We have yet to discuss the scans in detail (we will see the pictures on Monday in clinic), but the bottom line was this: things look good.  Chase’s attending neuro-oncologist said that this is what is hoped for and desired.  Another clear scan.

…and to this day, Chase still hasn’t gotten sick.  The doctors believe that the antibiotic he was on for his line infection protected him from all the germs in our house.

So, if we hadn’t had the fever before we left the hospital, we wouldn’t have been able to stay home on Friday, and if we hadn’t gone in on Saturday night, we wouldn’t have been able to be in church on Sunday morning, and if Chase hadn’t had the line infection (which caused us to miss part of our Easter holiday) at all, he would never have been protected from the flu and pneumonia in the house.  …and if he hadn’t needed transfusions, we never would have been  there for our friends and been able to connect with some really cool Blackhawk fans.  Some correlations are more obvious than others and for some things (like the scan) there is little correlation at all; just joy.  But for the rest: perspective.  This season continually reveals to me that what seems sad and wrong often leads to visible grace and beauty.

As I look back on these weeks, how will I choose to remember them?

“All around

hope is springing up from this old ground

Out of chaos life is being found in You.

You make beautiful things.”  -Gungor

Moment by moment.

An Average Clinic Day

Today, I’m really excited to share with you what our average clinic day looks like!  (yes, it’s picture sharing day here on EFAMILY…)

When we first get to the hospital, we report to the Hematology/Oncology floor for check-in and vitals.

Chase taking his chances with the germs while waiting in the Hem/Onc play area

After this, Chase goes to a clinic room where they draw the labs and he meets with his Oncology team for a dialogue session and a chemo “push” (a short chemo that can be given in a matter of minutes as opposed to his infusions which are given IV over hours/days).  I have no pictures from our time in the clinic room this week, but I can tell you that despite six adults (four of whom were medical staff and two of whom were supposedly responsible parents) in direct intervention capacity, Chase did try and climb off the clinic table by himself and did fall backwards…you know…directly on his back…the area where he was about to get his spinal tap.  [picture me with my head in my hands at this point]  He was 100% fine.  I think he just wanted to give his Onc team a small taste of “Life with Chase”.  [head in my hands again]

From clinic, we procede to surgery for his spinal tap.  They classify the tap as a surgical procedure because he has to be sedated.  Apparently, a 2 1/2 year old boy can’t always lay perfectly still with a large needle in his back for a long time…who knew? [sarcasm implicit]

In pre-op, taking his own temperature

In preparation for his procedure, Chase is given a small sedation to make seperating from us easier (as we can’t go back with him).  This week, as the drug hit his system, he just wanted to “beep” my nose until they wheeled him out.  “Mellow Chase” is fun.  A sedated procedure is what we call his “Nap With the Doctor“, and as he’s wheeled out for his “Nap“, we always tell him that we love him and we’ll see him when he wakes up.  He often tells me to take a nap too (which usually makes me laugh and cry).

Bob on a conference call in the surgical waiting room

When Chase is in his procedure, we go to the waiting room, which reminds me to highlight the above picture.  My incredible husband has worked diligently with his company to allow him to work from the hospital so that he can always be present with us.  This can be hilariously confusing to medical staff meeting with us for the first time — I had an oncologist turn to me during a conference this week and say “But, we didn’t record the session. What session are you talking about?”  One of those moments when I needed to explain that my husband was speaking to someone in Tempe, Arizona and not to the doctor.  Communication hilarity aside, Bob’s professional sacrifice for us is amazing and I wanted to highlight that here.  What a guy.

After Chase’s procedure, he’s taken to post-op and recovery to be monitored for a while.  During his “Nap With the Doctor“, he usually receives chemo in his spine and has maintenance things done -like changing his dressings- that are much easier to do when your patient isn’t going ninja on you. (a hypothetical scenario, of course…)

Chase, attached to all his monitors, sleeping off his anesthesia in recovery (with Bob -still on a conference call- in the background)

Chase -about 30 minutes later- in a different stage of post-op recovery (different room; same hard-working Dad)

FYI:  That chair Bob is sitting in (in this last picture) is really comfortable and Bob always beats me to it.  He beats me to it so regularly that the one week he didn’t come back to post-op recovery with me, Chase woke up and lectured me about not sitting in “Daddy’s chair”.  [thinking about hanging my head in my hands again]

After Chase is recovered enough to be cleared (awake, talking, swallowing, etc), we are discharged!  …and if we’re really lucky, it’s before rush hour traffic!

And then, all that is left is the ride home …

Chase and his vomit bucket resting after a long clinic day

And that’s an average clinic day for us…

Moment by moment.

The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.  Proverbs 16:9

 

 **A note: In all of these pictures, there is a prominent bruise on Chase’s forehead.  Don’t worry, that’s not from falling off the exam table.  That is what happens when Chase’s platelets are low.  He bumps or even taps against something and his body -in it’s compromised state- cannot bruise or clot properly.  For the record, his head looks much better after his second platelet transfusion on Friday.**

A Place for Karsten

Lake Geneva, December, 2009

I looked up from my book; “Bob, this says that it’s dedicated to his son, Karsten.  Isn’t that a cool name?  Hey, if we ever have another child and it’s a boy, could we talk about that name?” 

Bob looked at me, and then 2 week old Chase sleeping next to me; an incredulous look on his face …“Sure … uh-huh … uh, we haven’t slept in like, a year and a half … and you’re talking about another?!”

“I know, I know … I’m just saying … it’s a cool name.”

Inspiration and creativity carried my train of thought a step further …

“Hey, Bob …”

[a deep sigh from across the room]

“What?”

“You know what?  We should use your grandfathers’ names too … Karsten Robert Charles … doesn’t that sound amazing?”

“Sure, Love … whatever you say.”

 

I am not a good pregnant person.  I like to be in control and being pregnant means being totally out of control for me.  After being pregnant twice in two years, it had only gotten worse.  After Chase, I fearfully and desperately wanted to be done.   But still, I couldn’t shake our Lake Geneva “conversation” from my mind.  I loved the name “Karsten”, and though I tried, I couldn’t get the idea of another little boy in our family by that name out of my head.  I just couldn’t figure out where to put those feelings or how to deal with them.  We had always talked about four children, but knew that any addition after Chase would be several years away.  … yet, I couldn’t shake it … this place in my heart for a Karsten. 

Lord, what are you preparing me for?

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Out on some errands with Bob and the kids, we decided after a week of wondering that we couldn’t wait any longer and so I ran into the nearest drugstore, and then the Starbuck’s next to it.  Who takes a pregnancy test in a Starbuck’s?  Someday; I thought, I’ll think back on this moment and laugh

A few minutes later, I was back with Bob.  Not wanting to share with the children yet, he looked at me, and I nodded back:  Positive.

Winter 2011

I lay in bed too sick and weak to move.  My fever was high; too high for someone with a nine week old fetus.  I no longer wondered why they make a vaccine for influenza.  Then the bleeding started.  Was I really just coming to accept another pregnancy only to have it end?

Lord, help me walk whatever road you have for me …

In the Office, Two Weeks Later …

The doctor looked up from the ultrasound machine, a smile on his face; “There’s a nice, strong heartbeat.”  My baby was alive.

October, 2011

Being weak is humbling.  I don’t like being humble almost as much (if not more) than I don’t like being pregnant.  Yes, I’d made it through the year to a full-term pregnancy, but I was weak.  Always tired, anemic and unable to lift anything of significance due to a bad back, I chafed … I want to be strong, Lord, and instead, I have to depend on others to do my work for me or deal with it not being done at all!   The only way out is through.

Lord, teach me and  prepare me …

Sunday, October 9th, 2011

It’s been almost 48 hrs already.  So tired, I’d gone to the hospital to be checked on Saturday afternoon when my contractions were 5-7 minutes apart, and then everything stalled so I was sent home.  …and then again, after waiting several hours through Saturday night and into Sunday morning, labor stalled and again, I was sent home.  I don’t think I’d slept since sometime on Friday, and more than my bodily exhaustion, I was emotionally exhausted.  I was weary from the condescension of the nurses … the “Is this your first baby?” question … the continual and even painful contractions … the thought of something being wrong for all of this going so long and not progressing … and the thought that actual labor (the hard part!) was still ahead. 

That afternoon, I called a friend and as she prayed for me over the phone, I sobbed.  Lord, prepare me for whatever you have for me … I’m so tired, Lord.

I sat on my bed with my copy of “Calm My Anxious Heart”.  If ever I needed reminders of comfort and peace, it was now.  Reading hungrily, the Lord helped me to focus and re-impressed lessons and verses on my heart …in particular, this passage:

I know of no greater simplifier for all of life.  Whatever happens is assigned.  Does the intellect balk at that?  Can we say that there are things that happen to us that do not belong in our lovingly assigned “portion” (“This belongs to it, that does not”)?  Are some things, then, out of the control of the Almighty?  Every assignment is measured and controlled for my eternal good.  As I accept the given portion other options are canceled.  Decisions become much easier, directions clearer, and hence my heart becomes inexpressibly quieter.  A quiet heart is content with what God gives.”

[Elizabeth Elliot on Psalm 16:5]

 

9:00 PM:  “Bob, I think I want to go again.  I don’t know what I’ll do if they discharge me again, but I need to go.  Hey, if they discharge me, can you just deliver the baby at home?  I can’t handle it anymore.”  We laughed at the thought of him delivering the baby.  It felt good. 

Later: The nurse removed her gloves, “Oh Honey, you’re at a 5 or 6 …let’s get you into a room.  You’re going to have this baby tonight.”  Such relief.

Sometime after 10:00 PM:  …waiting on the anesthesiologist, we prayed.  Lord, prepare our hearts for whatever lies ahead.

11:30 PM:  It’s funny how hours feel like minutes at times.  The doctor was there and speaking to me: “Let’s get set up here and in just a few minutes, you won’t be pregnant anymore.”

Peace.  I feel such peace.  You fully supply all my needs.  You restore my weary soul again and again and lead me in your righteousness and peace.  You are my shepherd.  I shall not want.  I will dwell in your house all the days of my life.

12:04 AM, Monday, October 10th:  My arms reached for the warm and moist towel holding the bluish infant.  “Here he is!  He’s beautiful!”  Voices were talking around me.  The nurses arms reached out and began massaging and drying arms and legs as his mouth opened; letting out a first, strong wail.  The breath of life began to spread and he was turning pink as I heard myself repeating “It’s okay, darling, it’s okay.  Mama’s here.” 

Our Portion.  Our Karsten

Lord, prepare us for whatever lies ahead …

 

Weekend in The ‘Wauk

My wonderful husband and I celebrate our anniversary in the Fall and due to school starting and babies, and school starting and babies (it feels like a lot more than it actually is; trust me), we took a weekend away a little earlier this year. 

Why do we take time away even in this crazy season of life?  Because a couple we greatly love and respect told us to.  When we were first married, they counseled us to make a habit of and fight for going away regularly to be just the two of us … and to start early lest we turn around having passed 10 years with nothing more than a “Hey, we should really get away some time.”  We never go anywhere exotic or super exciting, but it’s us … and it’s rest … and it’s no kids. 

Speaking of kids; my parents (despite what I may otherwise intimate at times) are heros!  Heroes … and the keepers of our sanity.  …wow, never thought I’d say that about the ‘rents.   My 15 year old self would be greatly surprised.

Anyway, this time we escaped to …[drum roll please] … Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Will somebody please explain to me why I feel the need to apologize for Milwaukee?  Somehow it’s synonomous with something uncool in my head … which is not at all the real-life case.  Maybe it’s the name?  Or the association with cheese and brats?  At any rate, The ‘Wauk (as I prefer to call it at this moment) is the town that surprises you, and they have a great Third Ward (see Chicago’s North Side for reference) even if you do want to choke on all the Packers’ references and collectibles that are EVERYWHERESidenote:  I think every other street is named “Green Bay Something or Other” or named for an NFL player or coach.  We were also subjected to a documentary on the making of the cheesehead hat (and how there is apparently one in the Smithsonian now).  It’s everywhere, it’s crazy … I don’t get it.  But then again, the last time my NFL team of choice won the Super Bowl was 1985.  Ahem, moving on …

Some random things about our time away:

  • Small irony of our hotel … last year, there was a conference / job fair for the rehabilitation of convicts.  This year, there were dual conferences for women in law enforcement and an academy of forensics.  Ah, irony.  It’s the little things that tickle my fancy.
  • Also, go here:

Here = Alterra on the Lake.  A beautifully refurbished old building right off the Lake that sells a Starbuck’s-kicking coffee.   This was also right across the street from the central stage beach for the city’s annual Air and Water show on Saturday.  Nothing like a relaxing latte over the scream and afterburn of an F-16 fighter jet right out your window.  …really opens the mind to reflection and meditation, I’m sure.  

 

 

 

  • Also, here:

Here = a place called Amy’s Gourmet Chocolates in Cedarburg (just north of Milwaukee … a please that will make you think the 1950s still exist somewhere).  Their apples will make you call your Mama.  I actually have no idea what that should even mean, but they’re good.  So good that Bob and I don’t share. 

  • The East Side of The ‘Wauk is as close to the West Coast as I’ll be this summer.  There was an open air market outside a great organic restaurant where you could buy soaps, hand-made jewelry, books and vintage fabrics while a guy with a guitar sang about how you can’t get from Milwaukee to Madison by train (a political protest song regarding the Republican governor’s recent decision to table a city-to-city rail plan).  And every once in a while, vendors and patrons alike would look up at the sound of the planes from the air show on the beach and cringe at the thought of war machines.  
  • In addition to all the relaxing we did, we both had a chance to work on some blog ideas.  True story:

This is how we roll.  Classy, huh?  Bob was perfectly comfortable with his technocological self.  His wife (no names mentioned to protect the paranoid) spent much of our tech time worrying that the other patrons of the coffee house would think we were taking over the world with all the computers lying around.  Apparently I think we look more like super spies than super nerds.

All the shanigans aside, being just the two of us for the weekend was wonderful.  So, whether it’s establishing a regular date night, or an annual getaway, I cannot encourage you enough to try this out.

Have a cool marriage renewing vacation tradition?  Please share!

A Wednesday in December

Wednesday: the first week in December, 2006

I walked out the door to the babysitters with a heavy heart.  I could still hear Darcy screaming inside, but there was nothing else I could do.  Not quite 8:00 AM; it had been an insane morning already!  My mom had been suffering shortness of breath for a several weeks and was in the hospital for heart tests that day — a thought that I was trying desperately hard not to consider the ramifications of as she was Darcy’s primary care giver when I worked — so I had to get Darcy to somebody else’s house, and get her settled and still get to work on time. 

There seems to be an unwritten law of human nature that it’s the morning you most need things to go smoothly that they absolutely do not.  Late alarm, crabby child, one too many stop lights, the necessity of a different babysitter, an early meeting at work, and the far too common freight train blocking the only road I could get to work by.  On top of the full and difficult morning, it was also the week of the Christmas concert, so I had two rehearsals before Sunday.  By the time I finally sat down at my desk to work that Wednesday, I could feel the tension in my temples.  Great, just great.

I was in the process of scrolling through all the morning’s emails when I saw something from Bob.  Smiling at what was sure to be an interesting and encouraging diversion, I opened it.  The email covered a variety of topics … his years spent in Africa, his parents continued ministry there, and a few other topics random topics.  However, the last paragraph was anything but ordinary.  I stopped, read, and re-read… He asked if his friendly email banter was bothering me, and then …”I want to ask you out on a date…”

He went on to outline how he didn’t know where I was at or if I was potentially already in a relationship with somebody else, but he had put his intentions very clearly.  He wanted to go on a date.  As I write this now, it seems ridiculous that I could have been so unaware of his intentions at the time, but I was …and so I was shocked, and not at all sure how to respond.  My eyes focused on the last line “…so feel free to slap me down” …

I couldn’t handle this today.

But how could I not handle it?  I was going to see Bob at the concert rehearsal that night!  There was no escaping this.

A little annoyed at his insensitivity (How could he not know what a crazy day I’m having?”), I shelved the email, determining to come back to it later that day. 

Later on, I called my mom to see how the tests had gone.  She explained to me through a fog of drugs that the tests went well and that the results were encouraging.  I’d never heard my mom so … high.  However, she wasn’t so drugged that she didn’t question the strain she heard in my voice.  Moms are special that way.  Responding to her query, I mentioned the email I’d received. 

Should I?

Why not?  He’s a nice guy.  Just don’t keep him waiting.

Don’t keep him waiting.  Thanks, Mom. 

I silently wished that I had more time.  Maybe I could stall just a little bit.  Not to a mean or cruel level, just to an “I need to catch my breath” level…

I emailed him back later in the day with a polite acknowledgement of his question and the response that “maybe we can grab coffee sometime”.  Not quite a slap down, but at least a slight stall that could save rampant awkwardness at the rehearsal.

I should have known better … characteristic of a trait I now greatly respect in Bob, he demanded the same upfront behavior of me that he did (and does) expect of himself… 

The reply to my email was almost immediate:

“So … was that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?”

So much for my stalling technique …

A Crafty Moment

I’m not a crafty or artistic person, but there are certain times that an idea comes into my head that I cannot banish until I’ve completely worked it out.

Such was the case this week …

Aidan has a little throw pillow he sleeps with, but it presents a constant problem for me.

1. It’s ugly (originally an old decorative pillow from my bed that ended up being neither decorative nor functional, it adorned the top of the wardrobe ’til Aidan found use for it)

2. It doesn’t have an easily removeable / child-proof slip cover for cleaning.

Up until now, I’ve always covered it with the smallest sham cover I had (which was still 6-8 inches too big all around … and made it even MORE ugly) just so that I had something to cover it, remove, and wash.  This week however, I had a the proverbial “light bulb”!

On my sewing desk, I have a couple badly ripped shirts of Bob’s just waiting to be repurposed.  They’re ripped in the arms (my husband; the Incredible Hulk) so the torso/body of the shirt is completely intact.  Not wanting to send my husband out to work like this … (not that Larry the Cable Guy doesn’t have his own unique style … I just don’t know if it would A) work on Bob, or B) work on Bob’s place of employment) …

…I decided that the shirt would make a great pillow cover.

 

 

I should warn you … I had no pattern, I measured no seams, and I don’t even think I cut in a straight line, so don’t look TOO closely. (actually, you can’t even if you wanted to because of the fuzzy/dark picture … oops … sorry)

*BEFORE*

Technical note: You may need to adjust the circumference of the torso, depending on the width of shirt and the size of your pillow.

*AFTER*

2nd Technical note: I made an executive decision (my favorite part about creating projects) to use the buttons to seal the cover and to leave the shirt in a very “shirt-like” (read: “authentic”) way even as a pillow case so that you can see part of a seam and a pocket:

Result? Aidan loves his old new “Daddy Pillow” and I finally have a good, removable, and washable cover! Added bonus: Aid always has something of his Dad’s very close to him.  Repurposing? Check.  Sentimental Value? Double Check.

The finished product: shown here with Charlie and “Didi” [pronounced “dih-dih”] … the other two items that never leave Aid’s side.

Final notes on the project: After over 24 hours of use, it has become apparent that having a pillow that buttons is also a really great way to teach your 2 year old how to button and un-button things (if they didn’t know already).  Apparently, it’s also an excellent place to store trains.  [True story: I found 3 small wooden trains and 4 pieces of track stuffed into it before his bedtime last night … now that would have made for a comfy sleep.]

Are you a repurposer of fabric?  I have a whole stack of items I’m just itching to find a use for — let me know some of your best / most fun projects!

Friday Five as the Saturday Six

I was thinking about the “Friday Five” yesterday … I really was!  Somehow the day got away from me though. 

This week, it’s a picture kind of Friday Five.  It’s in the air or something.  And because I’m such a blog-crastinator, I give you the “Friday Five: as the Saturday Six edition” …

Bob: this is how you’ll often find my husband.  Deep in news, political, and/or theological thought; even while watching the kids.  The man’s brain is a sponge.   Don’t believe me?  You should check out his blog

Ellie:  because it was a crazy week, and because I was behind the camera and didn’t think about it, and because I’d really love for you to think of me this way and not as the crazed, pony-tail and glasses wearing, covered in throw-up, spit-up or some other kind of body function person … here’s my picture for the week.  This is what I really look like.  Every day.  As a I keep my immaculate house and cook my husband 5-course dinners every night.  [stifling maniacal laughter]  By the way, this is me with my cousin Emily – a gorgeous woman inside and out.  Sorry to wrangle you into this post, Em … I couldn’t find a picture of just me all dolled up. 

Darcy:  On Friday, Darcy’s accomplishment was undoubtedly dressing herself.  Let me just say … she does this by herself with great success in normal wardrobe choices all the time, but yesterday, something happened.  I don’t know what, but it was so completely clothes-tacular that I couldn’t resist documenting it here.  Darcy, I apologize to your 18 year old self in advance.  Here’s the front …

Note:  Yes, those are Christmas socks.  They’re actually adult socks that her grandmother gave to her to use as sock puppets or something and she loves them so much that she wears them year round, hiking them up to her knees with little “this is the place for your ankle” bubbles halfway up the back of her leg. 

And the back …

Truly a proud parenting moment. 

Aidan:  Aid hates the camera.  He loves looking at pictures after they are taken, but he has totally disconnected from the concept that you need to stand in front of the camera if you want to see yourself in a picture.  Which is why over 90% of our pictures look like this …

I *can’t wait* for the Christmas card picture. [please sense the dripping sarcasm]  In other news, Aidan is obsessed with ants.   I could grow a beard walking down the average sidewalk because we have to stop and look at EVERY. SINGLE. ANT.  He especially likes to try poking at them or picking them up.  Although, last night, he informed Bob and I that he was “petting the ant” -wait for it- “with his shoe“.  We laughed even as we heard the sound of future college scholarships getting flushed down the toilet. 

Chase: the big news for Chase is that he had his first hair cut this week!  [you should be both proud of me and relieved that I didn’t subject you to the “my baby’s first hair cut” blog as I’d originally threatened]  As cute as the old-man-hair-over-his-ears-meets-the-mullet look was, it was time … it was time. 

And since it’s the Saturday Six edition this week … here’s a picture of the youngest: clearly just chillin’.  Blissfully unaware of the crazy family he’s about to inhabit …

Have a great picture that defines your week?  Feel free to link to it in the comment section below.

Have a great weekend!