This baby...

I have followed his story since before he was born.

It captivated not only me, but bloggers around the world.

Even my kids recognize his face on my computer, and ask how Stellan is doing. All they know is that his heart is sick, and he needs our prayers.

What I know is this: this baby has touched my heart. His miraculous birth was amazing to read about. His mother's faith is something I strive to achieve in my ordinary life.

What I don't know is this: how do you face the daily possibility of losing your son, your baby, your sweet little boy?

I think this is why Stellan's situation weighs so heavily on my heart and mind. Reading Jennifer's blog every day, admiring her beautifully photographed children, praying for Stellan when he's sick and rejoicing when he is healthy...it brings the whole thing home to me, right through my laptop.

Please join me in praying for Stellan this week, but especially now through Tuesday, when he undergoes another attempt at an ablation to fix his heart arrhythmias. Pray for strength for his parents, wisdom and compassion for his physicians and nurses, and for a complete healing for this little guy's heart.

He may not be our son, but he is someone's beloved and cherished baby boy, and he has worked his way into so many hearts. Please let his be healed.

Broken feelings

(Photo from 2008)

Usually, Elijah and Gabe play really well together.

Today was an exception.

Gabe wanted to play hide and seek; Elijah wanted to jump on the trampoline. Unfortunately, Gabe's two little buddies wanted to play with Elijah. Gabe was crushed.

He came into the house, tears flowing, sobbing his little heart out on my shoulder.

After a snack and some mommy time, he calmed down.

Then he turned to me and said, in the saddest little voice, "My feelings are still hurt from 'Lijah. I think they're broke."

Awww, poor little guy. A few hugs, some pizza and a Scooby-doo show and now things are better.

Broken feelings have a way of mending, eventually. Such a tough lesson, though.

Eenie-meenie-minie-moe

It's been a long while since I have bought new pajamas for my myself.

The kids get new pj's every Christmas Eve, but I'm wearing the same mismatched duds that I have owned for over a decade. They're comfy, but...

Next Friday, I am going on a sleepover weekend with fourteen other women. I don't want to have mismatched duds; I want to have cute pajamas. Thus began my search.

The choices are endless.

(I know which one Joe would choose):


Warm, but disturbing:

Somehow I don't think this would look quite so cute on me:

Now that's more my style, but where's the flood?

As much as I would like to feel sexy and stylin' in my bedtime wear, I think this is more my speed:

What do you think? Have you bought new pj's for yourself lately? What do you wear to bed?

Candy overload

No, this post isn't about the ten pounds of candy the kids collected last Saturday night.

It isn't about how the cat keeps sneaking into said candy, sampling the Pixie Sticks and Tootsie Pops (I didn't even know cats had a sweet tooth).

It is about Gabe, and the freakin' adorable Candy League soccer team he is on over at our YMCA.

Have you ever watched six preschoolers play 3-on-3 soccer, running amuck in their little soccer shorts and shinguards, cheering crazily no matter which kid scores a goal?

If you haven't, you should. Nothing brings a smile to your face faster than this, I swear. The cuteness factor is a definite 10!



These boys didn't even know each other until last week; look at 'em now.


Gabe's team is the "Candy Canes". We battle the "Skittles", the "Kit Kats", and the "Junior Mints". Love it...

What now?

The first birthday that I can remember is when I turned four. We moved into our new house in Harrison, Ohio, then had a blizzard a couple of months later.

Cookie Monster helped welcome me into my fifth year, complete with a cookie in his icing-covered mouth that the birthday girl (moi) got to eat without sharing even a crumb with her three older sisters.

I had a slumber party when I turned ten, and my favorite gift was an E.T. t-shirt (I'm pretty sure I still have it).

Turning thirteen meant I was officially a teenager.

Turning fifteen meant I was allowed to date.

Then the big sixteen:


My dream car was a '69 Ford Mustang:

Instead I got a 1984 Chevette. Hey, it was a car; you didn't hear me complaining!

I turned eighteen at the beginning of my senior year of high school. Officially an adult!

Graduated nursing school at the age of twenty.

The next big one, twenty-one! Yay for a legal ID, right?

Married at twenty-two.

Baby at twenty-four, along with our first house.

Baby number two at twenty-six.

Baby number three at thirty.

Been to Disney World three times (at the ages of 10, 28 and 35).

For every age I've been, it seems there was something to look forward to at the next age.

The next age for me is forty.

Ask anyone. Forty is traditionally something meant to be dreaded.

I can't say I'm dreading it.

I love the age I am. I am happier in my thirties than ever before. I am comfortable in my own skin, despite the wrinkles, the varicose veins, the cellulite, the acne (still?!).

I am a goal-oriented person, however. I feel the need to have a list of things to look forward to.

On my do-before-I'm-40-list right now?

Pay off all bills (except for house).

Finish my BSN (starting in January '10).

Take my family on a cruise.

Travel out west in an RV.

Run a half-marathon, maybe alongside Isabel.

Go on a mission trip.

I have four years. I think I can do it. It's great to have something to look forward to, isn't it?

What are you looking forward to? What was your favorite age?

He made it!

An apology in advance to any peewee football fans out there...

As some of you know, Elijah played football for the first time this year. He begged and begged, and put up his own money, and I finally relented. Practice started in July. The last game was on Halloween. Over three months of grueling practices three days a week, games every weekend, driving over an hour one way to get to some of those games. And finally, it's over.

Lots of moms hold their sons in high regard when it comes to athletics. But seriously, Elijah is a great athlete. He's good in whatever sport he plays, innately knowing the rules and physically capable of playing the game. However, he's little. Seventy pounds little. Not the best thing to be in football, when many of the boys are topping 150 pounds. That being said, Elijah did not get to play very often in the games. He showed up to every practice, and every game (unless it interfered with church). And he got to play five plays a game. Five. He made it to the very last game before he even got to touch a football.

For the last three weeks, he hated football. The bruises and headaches and sore muscles sucked. Having to sit on the sidelines and watch your team lose and be able to do nothing about it sucked. Being one of the littlest guys on the team sucked. Despite all of that, he stuck it out and made it to the end of the season, before getting the flu and having to sit out of the playoff games (which really was just fine with us).

The one good thing to come out of all of this: he has decided football isn't really for him. He's going to stick with basketball and baseball, which he loves and actually gets playing time in.

I'm sorry that football wasn't all that he dreamed it was going to be, but I am proud of Elijah for having the guts to stick it out. And I'm so thankful to one of the football moms for capturing this photo of the ONE time Elijah actually got to make a play. He was wide receiver; the qb threw him the ball, and he ran twenty yards before getting tackled. In the last fifty seconds of the last game. (Elijah is number 46).


Thank God it's over. And we made it to the end without a broken bone or any other serious injury.

I'm so proud of you, Elijah. It was a difficult season, and one you're not likely to forget. You made it!

The best gift.

For my birthday, I received a few gifts. Flowers from Lula, a movie date from my sister, cards, brunch and dinner dates from Joe, money from Kay and Bob (my in-laws), and a flu-bug from the kids.

Yeah, that last one was a bummer. Especially since our Girls on the Run Practice 5K was scheduled for October 29th. My birthday. Did I mention that I am Isabel's running buddy, which means I have to run alongside of her for the whole 5K? No problem when I'm healthy. With a flu? Um, it took lots of ibuprofen, Hall's cough drops and Excedrin to get me through. I'm so glad I was there, though, 'cause watching her win that race was the best birthday gift ever.

Did you catch that? Yep, I said "win". That girl rocked the race and took first place. For GOTR, we don't emphasize a winner, we want each girl to do their best. But you know Joe and I were bursting with pride when she was the first to cross the finish line!

Have you ever run in a 5K race? It's 3.2 miles, for the un-informed. When I was nine years old, I would have laughed at you if you said I was going to run that far. Every single one of our GOTR girls did it, though. What an empowering accomplishment!

Here they are at the starting line. Our real 5K race is on November 21st; we wanted the girls to get a feel for how it will go. (I love the focused expression on Isabel's face!)


At first, a lot of the girls took off sprinting. Not Isabel. She kept repeating, "slow and steady wins the race" along with me as she found her pace and stuck with it. (That's her, in front of the pack).


2.5 miles down, one-half to go...

The winner!

I'll admit it, I had tears in my eyes, hugging this incredible daughter of mine. I stand in awe of her determined spirit, and I am so honored to be her mom.

Isabel's friend, Maya, was the next to cross the finish line. They became friends in first grade, and their friendship is still going strong today.

Maya's mom, Monica, and I are part of the GOTR coaching team. We have six coaches altogether, and we have all had such fun being a part of this program!

The whole team:

Congratulations, Isabel, and thanks for the best birthday gift I could ever ask for! You've done your momma proud!

(Special thanks to Joe for taking such awesome photographs!)