As I sit and write, it's early evening.  I'm exhausted and have frizzy, curly hair from the long and miserably cold, wet day.  Our three boys had football games and our little girl cheered.  
     We knew waking up this morning at o'dark thirty, it was going to be a long day.  Each of the three different games were at a school an hour away and the forecast called for temperatures in the low 60's with constant rain. 
     "You know what would be good when we get back home?"  My husband questioned behind the wheel.
     He continued, "Broccoli and cheese soup...with potatoes in it".
     Now, we have a broccoli and cheese soup I make every so often, but I've never added potatoes.  I didn't even know how it would taste, but it was worth a try.  Different, but maybe good? 
     Finally reaching the school after driving through the rain, we gathered our umbrellas and headed to the soggy field.  My parents joined us with their rain gear as well, and while one of the boys played, the rest of us sat or stood in the constant downfall, under the protection of tents and coats.  All except Adam, that is.
     From the time the younger teams started warm ups at eight something in the morning, to the final play of the older teams almost seven hours later, he stood, in the rain, uncovered. 

     While others held umbrellas or wore rain gear, he stood without.  I thought he was being silly at first, then stubborn...then flat out crazy.  I couldn't understand WHY he wouldn't take cover.
     Even when there were periods of downpour, I ran with the other kids into our car for protection, while Adam stood, never moving, still watching the game.
     When the day finally ended, he climbed in the car soaked to the bone, freezing cold.
     "Why in the world did you do that?  Why wouldn't you at least hold an umbrella?"  I snipped as water dripped from his face and clothes.
     Wiping his brow he whispered, "If our kids had to be out in the rain unprotected, then I was going to stand behind them to let them know I was there with them, too."
     Needless to say, he got potatoes in his soup - and it was ridiculously better than the recipe from before.  (I'll post the new version tomorrow.)
     Thank you for being the potatoes in our soup, my love.  Our lives are filled with warmth and happiness because of you, even on the rainiest of days. 
THANK YOU for moving us UP by CLICKING BELOW each day from any different phone or computer!  You are FANTASTIC!!! 

     Our ten year old son, Ethan had a field trip to Old Salem, North Carolina yesterday.  If I'm being honest, I'll admit I was dreading the day.
     You see, my Dad loves history.  I don't mean like, normal people love.  I mean, when I was a kid and all my friends got to go on cool vacations to Disney World or Kings Island, we went on history trips.  Nerdy history trips.  The kind where we stood there looking at fields of grass because some battle of something happened there four score and seven years ago.
     This brings us back to yesterday.  It would be a day of walking around a really old town, with really old buildings and really old stories.  The kicker was, my husband wanted to go on the field trip too...because you know why?...yep.  He loves history.
     Arriving early morning, our tour began.  We listened to speakers from house to house, church to tavern. 
     Then, the strangest thing started to happen.  I began to listen.  
     Everything actually became (gasp) interesting.  Learning about the way the people used to live, eat, survive...how they got along with their day to day function.  It was fascinating. 

           Can you IMAGINE cooking in this kitchen?

                There was gun shooting...

                ...and this guy, with a pulley.

       The kids even learned how to start a fire. nice.

   We were able to walk the very same floors, George Washington once graced...

    ...then went with some friends to a restaurant called, "The Tavern", where we had the BEST food from this century, or any other. 

     Jared was the chef - and we watched as he greeted each guest with the most genuine welcome.  If you're ever in the area, this place, you have to go. 

    Leaving the field trip, Ethan went on and on about how much fun everything was.  My husband smiled with the assurance that the "trait" of loving history was being passed down to yet another generation.  
     I'll have to say, even though I went growling and scoffing all the way there, on the way home it was a different story.  An amazing story, of our country's past and of those who endured to keep it.  
     So with that, I'll say, Thanks, Dad.  Maybe all those trips weren't so bad after all.
THANK YOU FOR MOVING US UP by Clicking Below Daily!!!  You are the BEST and we Love You for it! XOXO

       Yesterday, I had my appointment with the Neurosurgeon. Even though my back feels so much stronger now, I was a little nervous.  I know better than to think a surgeon chooses to see you, simply to chat over a cup of tea.
       Getting called back to the room, I sat waiting as I heard muffled voices fill the white hallway.
       Before I knew it, the doctor entered the room, clicking my MRI results up on his screen.  
        A knot gripped my chest, knowing the last time he did this, resulted in surgery.
        This time however, the news was good.  The lower four discs were buldging, but nothing time wouldn't heal.
       The biggest smile of relief covered me as I stood to hug him.  I'm sure it totally freaked him out, but at that point, I was too happy to care.
        Thank you again for your Awesome thoughts and prayers.  They were truly felt and they most definitely worked.  God is good. 
     whew.
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    Being born and raised in the Great State of Ohio, we had our fair share of winter weather.  Blizzard of 1978 anyone?

     Snow was pretty much fair game from the months of October through April.  It wasn't uncommon to go Trick-or-Treating in full winter gear, or go on Easter Egg hunts in the same attire.
    I've tried to have my kids understand that in the 90's, when I walked to classes on my college campus, I'd sometimes pull tiny beads of ice from my eyelashes once I reached the inside of a building.  Why would I walk to class, you might ask?  Because my keys wouldn't fit in the car doors or the ignition, due to everything being frozen...and forget about scraping the solid ice from the windshield and windows.   
     Winter was cold.  Like, bone hurting cold.
     You can imagine my surprise then, when something like this happens...  
     Picture if you will...a beautiful fall day in North Carolina.  It's overcast with an intermittent sprinkle, but the leaves are starting to change and the air is crisp.
     Lauren Elizabeth, our six year old little girl, steps outside only to stop in her tracks.  
     "Mommy!"
     "Yes, Baby."
     "We need our COATS!"
     "Our coats?  Why Sweetie?"
     "Because today, it's WINTER!"
     - It was 70 degrees.  
      I remember the day I moved to North Carolina from Ohio.  It was years ago, during the month of February.  I left in about 8 degree weather and arrived to the upper 60's.  I'm not even kidding when I say that I put on shorts and a t-shirt, while everyone around me thought I had lost my mind.  The feeling was mutual, as I couldn't believe they were in sweaters and coats.  
      I'll have to admit, when it gets down to the sixties now, I am a little cold.  My blood is evidently thinning, making me completely aware of the fact that my friends and family from home, have full permission to demand I turn in my Ohio card.  My brother even hung up on me once when I told him we made a fire and turned the heat on, once it got below 70. 
     So, I guess, I'm not only failing as a northern mom, I'm failing as a northerner.  My kids don't know what real winter weather is, and my body evidently doesn't know what to do with it, either.
     Lord help us all if it snows.

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    The Tooth Fairy does this thing in our house.  She waits until all the kids are asleep, then sneaks into their rooms and kisses them on the cheek, regardless of who lost a tooth. 
    The way we know she does this, is because when all four kids wake up the next morning, there's a little bit of sparkle dust, sprinkled right on each face.
    Our little girl has grown to love this especially.  The boys, well, not so much.  Oh, it was cute when they were little, but now, they're not really having it.
    You can imagine their dismay then, when she came to visit our eight year old last night.  It was late, in her defense. 
    Really late.  
    I think I heard her around one in the morning when she slammed into the window, almost forgetting to stop by.  
    She had her pocket of fairy dust in hand with her money in the other.  
    After she carefully felt all over the bed and under the pillow for the baby tooth like a needle in a haystack, I heard her sigh of relief when she found it.  
    Replacing the tooth with the loot, she then ever so carefully removed the cap of her fairy dust, to sprinkle over our son with a kiss.  Flying on to the other rooms, each child was kissed the same.
    It was the first time she used this new kind of fairy dust, which seemed to be much finer with smaller sparkles than the old kind.  She thought it wouldn't be as obvious, in turn, pleasing the boys.  
    Little did she know.
    In the morning, our eight year old, Preston, woke up with a yelp.  "She came!  She CAME!" The other three went to his room, then all came out to show us his riches.
    Adam and I gasped as the cast of 'Twilight' approached, when four sparkly children, one, minus a tooth and waving a dollar, climbed into our bed.         
    Covering my mouth, I giggled as Adam whispered, "Whaaaaaaat happened?".
    It took awhile to get the sparkle off and I'll probably have to wash their pajamas and sheets, at least three times.  
    Even though the Tooth Fairy won't come around much longer, I guess her sparkly kisses will have to be reserved for our little girl from now on.
    It will be too hard to try to explain to the school why our kids all randomly sparkle, or why the boys have to fight their way through lunches and recess. 
    The next tooth that's lost will eventually come, though.  In our house, it seems like it happens every other day.  She'll flutter around the house, probably in the wee morning hours still, but this time, her heart will hurt just a little, knowing her boys are too grown for fairy dust.
    No matter how old they'll be, she'll always see them as her babies, and never fail to kiss their cheek...she'll just have a little less sparkle next time.  Okay, a lot less sparkle.

You are the Absolute BEST.  Thank You for continuing to VOTE by Clicking Below each day.  You're pulling us up in rank, because you Rock!  XOXO