Well, that worked out well...

I planned to get a lovely picture of all the children by the pond at church. I wanted one I could post here, for Granny (Zorak's Mom), along with a Happy Mother's Day wish from her loving grandchildren...

When we left the house (on time, no less), everyone looked so nice. John wore a yellow shirt with his suit, James went a bit more casual with Dockers and a button-up shirt - still nice, very springy. Smidge patiently submitted to the perpetually adorable clothing that's easy to find in size 3T and under, and Miss Emily donned an exquisite little gown sent by one of our Invisible Friends.

We got to church after a pleasant Sunday morning drive. It was lovely: nobody fought, nobody cried. Bliss. Then, as my children piled out of the Suburban, Circus Clown Style, I realized something had gone horribly amiss.

John's shirt was no longer yellow, but pink and yellow, James' hair stood completely on end, Smidge's face was covered in some... foreign, chocolatey looking substance (please let it be chocolate, I prayed), and Miss Emily had evidently been mauled by a large, drooling varmint which left her gown completely saturated in spittle.

I thought we'd all traveled in the same car...

Ah, well, that's okay.

Zorak's gift to me today was that he came to church with us. And as an added bonus, he didn't fall asleep. Granted, sitting in the front row can do wonders for your ability to stay awake. Not only can the pastor see, specifically, if you're praying or faking it, but without another row of seats in front of us, it takes some creative effort to keep the Free Range Toddler from scaling the podium or dissipating into a disco frenzy during the hymns. Never a dull moment in the House O' The Lord, I'll tell ya!

The boys have been anxiously counting down the days until Mother's Day. They wrote something on a piece of paper, then sealed it inside an empty Kleenex box. That box has been the answer to most of my inquiries into the unusual behavior the boys have exhibited lately. And that box contained "my gift". Occasionally (usually when I'm nursing the baby and too intoxicated with oxytocin to get up and investigate) I've heard squeals of laughter and the sound of running water from somewhere in the house. When I've asked what was up, I'd hear simply, "It's in your box." So, not only out of sheer morbid curiosity, but also a sincere desire to know whether we needed to upgrade our homeowner's insurance, I was quite anxious to open "the box" today.

Their gift to me was to let me in on a little secret. They've been plunging the toilet... just for fun.

Maybe I should have opted for breakfast in bed...

Tonight, while the boys pretended to ready themselves for bed (I know better - even inebriated, it doesn't make that much noise to get your jammies on), Zorak worked on more window trim and I cleaned the guest room to make way for BOOKS! (This was a little treat for myself.) I brought up eleven boxes of books, and let me tell you, it was like Christmas. When you're six. And you have been good ALL YEAR! Wow. I was never that good, so this was a new experience for me. But still, thoroughly enjoyable.

I think the only thing that topped my joy at unearthing all the delightful titles one at a time was hearing James' giggling gasp of happiness - and the ongoing rush of enthusiasm (think the lady on The Price is Right who hyperventilates when she wins the grand prize that she actually wanted) as he perused the newly stocked shelf for bedtime reading. He said, "This is like the library, only with too many choices!"

We read, and laughed, and giggled. I cleaned and sorted and laughed some more. It's quiet now, another day gone. Another day enjoyed. What more could I wish for? Besides many more like this one. Perhaps without the color-changing shirts, though.

And Granny, if you're reading this, WE LOVE YOU! HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY! Thank you for raising the man that is such a wonderful husband and father. Thank you for sharing him with me. And I will get you a picture of all the children, hopefully all looking the same general direction, soon. I promise.

Kiss those babies,
~Dy