I don’t know who wrote this, but my friend Cheryl shared it today and it was too funny to not pass along. If you have pets you will surely relate!

The following was found posted ~very low~ on a refrigerator door.

Dear Dogs and Cats:

The dishes with the paw prints are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Racing me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn’t help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. ~However, dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep.. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other, stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out on the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time,~there is no secret exit from the bathroom!~If, by some miracle, I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge in an attempt to open the door. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years – canine/feline attendance is not required.

The proper order for kissing is: Kiss me first, then go smell the other dog or cat’s butt. I cannot stress this enough.

Finally, in fairness, dear pets, I have posted the following message on the front door:

NOTICE TO ALL NON-PET OWNERS WHO VISIT AND LIKE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT OUR PETS:

(1) They live here. You don’t.

(2) If you don’t want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. That’s why they call it ‘fur’-niture.

(3) I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.

(4) To you, they are animals. To me, they are adopted sons/daughters who are short, hairy, walk on all fours and don’t speak clearly.

Remember, dogs and cats are better than kids because they (1) eat less, (2) don’t ask for money all the time, (3) are easier to train, (4) normally come when called, (5) never ask to drive the car, (6) don’t hang out with drug-using people; (7) don’t smoke or drink, (8) don’t want to wear your clothes, (9) don’t have to buy the latest fashions, (10) don’t need a gazillion dollars for college and (11)~if they get pregnant, you can sell their children .

And let me show off my furry children…

Lily and Max

Molly and Annie

We missed celebrating Mardi Gras last week. I was getting over a wicked case of food poisoning and not up to celebrating anything besides staying out of the bathroom.

You don’t hear of a lot of people commemorating Fat Tuesday around here, unlike when we lived along the Gulf Coast. Down there it’s a huge celebration with parades and parties.

But one of my favorite things about homeschooling is teaching cultural awareness through observing different traditions. My kids ask all year when it will be time to make Mardi Gras King Cake again. Baking it takes half a day, but it’s worth it. I use rich brioche dough filled with butter, cinnamon and brown sugar, topped with vanilla glaze and the traditional green, purple and gold sugar sprinkles.

It’s a million times better than anything you can buy, so I think we’ll be having our Fat Tuesday a week late. Obviously, we aren’t giving up sugar for Lent. But I’m not sure what to sacrifice instead.

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Just look at this face…

Now imagine it pale, and sad and throwing up all day.

My poor Eli has been so sick today. It’s definitely the sickest I’ve ever seen him with a stomach virus. A few years ago, he had a fever that went to 105 and that was pretty darn scary. But this probably comes in second for his worst sick day ever.

He even said that earlier, hanging over the bucket, gulping for air: “Mom, this is the worst day ever.”

I probably sound like the biggest wimp in the universe, but when my kids are sick, I just want to go bawl in a corner somewhere. I can’t stand it. Give me all their illnesses, squared, and I’ll take them gladly. Anything to not have to see them suffer.

I know it’s just a bug, and probably by this time tomorrow, he’ll be feeling much better. I guess I feel a little extra guilt because I’m the one who brought the crud home to everyone else. I had it first, then Donnie, now Eli…thankfully Jonah hasn’t been sick (hoping immunity from Mama’s milk will keep him well). I’m worried that Zach will be next, as that’s usually how it goes. He might be a big ol’ 12 year old, with hands and feet the size of mine, but he’s still my BABY. And I don’t want any of my babies to be sick.

I thank God all the time that my kids are usually pretty healthy. Because I don’t know that I could handle it if they had to deal with some of the health issues that I’ve seen some friends go through with their children. I can’t imagine finding the strength to deal with that. I’m sure I’d muster it if I had to, but how would I cope when I’m such a wimp with a stomach virus?

I think a big part of it is just feeling so helpless. Bringing him drinks, tucking his blankets, standing beside him and speaking soothingly as he’s throwing up, cleaning up…they’re all I can do. I can’t make it go away. So I pray to the One who can, and hope that He will, soon.

If so, you’ve got to try Nivea’s A Kiss of Rejuvenation Q10! (And no, I am not receiving anything for sharing this!)

I picked up a tube of this on clearance the other day at Target. I’ve had the worst chapped lips this winter and nothing has helped them for long. But this stuff is amazing! I saw a difference in them the very first day I wore it. They are soft, not peeling, no longer cracked and hurting. LOVE this stuff! Must. Buy. More!

(And when I find something I love, I want to spread the love to my friends!)

I just finished reading a blog post by another homeschooling mother. In it, she talks about the loss of her precious daughter, Hannah. It is some heartbreaking reading. Maybe it just hit me extra-hard because of the sweetness of having a baby in the house, but I wept all the way through it. I sat down here at the computer, having just nursed my baby Jonah to sleep. Before I put him in his bed, I stared at his cherubic little face, tracing his cheek and ear with my fingertip, gently tousling his crazy, silky curls and thanking God for the joy this baby has brought into our lives. Reading a few minutes later about someone losing their little one was a sudden and agonizing contrast. I couldn’t dam the tears, my heart familiar with the pain of her loss and the frailty of life, and overflowing again with unspeakable gratitude for my sons.

I’ve never lost a baby as old as little Hannah, even though she was not very old at all. I’ve had three miscarriages that I know of. The last one was a year before Eli was born, a full nine years ago. But it’s true that a mother never really does get over the loss of a baby. I will always, always wonder who those babies were, and what they would’ve brought to our family.  I will always miss them, always remember them. I will always hang their angels on our Christmas tree, and whisper their names in my heart as I do so. And like tonight, when I hear another mother’s heartbreak over the loss of her own precious baby, I will weep, for her and for myself and for every other mother who has walked that dreadful path.

Perhaps those losses are one reason I’ve always longed for a house full of children. I know that no child can be replaced, but knowing how precious they are, and what it’s like to anticipate the arrival of one only to have it die, well…it changes a person. I feel like that by losing those babies, I have already lost so much. I don’t want to miss out on anything. It’s why I couldn’t bring myself to have my tubes tied after Jonah was born. (That might be TMI for some, but I’m just being real tonight.) I am definitely reaching the outer limits, age-wise, of childbearing, and chances are very good that I will never conceive again. But my heart is open to any additional blessings God might want to give us. I can’t bring myself to make a medical decision that tells Him unequivocally “No.” I trust Him to do what is best for my family.

I know that some don’t understand that perspective, and others don’t agree with it. But that’s OK. We’re all called to different paths and purposes, and who am I to say that God doesn’t call some to have just one child, or two, or none at all? Who knows the mind of God, but God?

Tonight, I pray for Him to comfort the mothers sitting up in NICUs around the world, and to strengthen the tiny babies fighting for their lives. May He soothe the terrified pregnant woman who just began bleeding, and stand beside those who will lay flowers beside a tiny tombstone today instead of holding their child in their arms.

May the God of comfort be with us all.