Nathan's First Trip to the ER

It was bound to happen at some point.  

Probably sooner rather than later.  

Especially with 3 older brothers.

Yep, Nathan made his first trip to the ER last night for stitches.  

Asa whacked him on the head with a toy gun.

I was in the kitchen making a nutritious dinner.  

Kenneth was talking to me.  

The boys were playing in the next room.

Suddenly...."MOOOOM!!!!  DADDYYYY!!!"
from both Noah and Aiden.

Not good.

Nathan crying.

Really not good.

Kenneth yells, "Boys!  I am talking to your mother."

(Kids screaming, crying and fighting really doesn't phase us anymore.)

"But Daddy!  Nathan has black on his face!"

Oh goodness.

I poked my head around the corner and saw Nathan gushing blood from over his eye.  So much and so dark it looked black.  Asa took off running to hide.  Then there were a series of inevitable "I didn't do it!  It was Asa!  I promise!" from both Noah and Aiden.

"What happened?"

Noah, "I don't know.  I just heard a big crack and then saw Asa holding a gun by Nathan's head."

Let me pause right here and admit that that last sentence sounds reaallllly bad out of context. 

At least they are ages 4, 2 and 1.  Not 24, 22 and 21, right?

We cleaned up the blood and Kenneth rushed Nathan to the hospital.

They didn't even put a stitch on his head. 
Our instructions are to cover it with a bandage three times a day and put polysporin on it.  

Right.  

Have you ever tried that on a 13 month old?!  Don't.  It's torture.

I am going to just go ahead and say right now that the kid is going to have a scar.

At least he is a boy and will probably think it is cool.

He will probably tell his friends that that is where his brother hit him with a gun.  

And he won't add that it was plastic.

The assailant.

 The weapon.

 The helpless victim. 

Exhibit A.

The teddy bear Nathan  from the ER room.  He kept calling it "baby."  How sweet is that?

Just another day with those Bruce boys.

I'm a Bad Mom and I'm Okay with It

According to my oldest son, I am a bad mom.
At least that is what he told me yesterday when I wouldn't let him go play with his brothers while they were in time out.

He said, "You are a bad mom!"
I said, "Do you want a different one?"  Not my finest moment, I admit.
Noah, "No!  I don't want a different mom.  I just want you to change your attitude."

Wow.
I honestly didn't even know how to respond to that.
I managed to get out a "Well, sorry.  There is nothing wrong with my attitude right now.  Maybe you should change yours."

Although I have to admit that it hurt my feelings that Noah called me a bad mom, I know that he did it because I made a decision that he didn't like.
And that is when the logic and love overwhelmed my thoughts, even if my heart was hurting.

You see, I could choose to always be a good mom in the eyes of my children, but actually, I would then be a bad mom.  From what I can gather from the amazing moms I know:

• Good moms discipline their children.
• Good moms try to do what is best for their children, even when their children wish they wouldn't.  
• Good moms are not willing to do anything just to get their children to like them. 
• Good moms put the health (spiritual, mental, and physical) of their children at a higher priority than being liked all the time. 
• Good moms are willing to sacrifice friendship right now for parenting, in hopes that when the children get older there will be deep friendships and appreciation.
• Good moms create an enviornment where their children feel it is okay to express their negative feelings, as long as it is respectful.
• Good moms let their kids be upset with them because they know that in the end it is for their best.
• Good moms might get called a "bad mom" a time or two, and that actually means that they are doing a great job parenting their preschooler or teenager.

So, if Noah wants to call me a bad mom because he didn't like a discipline decision, I'm okay with it.  (Although I did have a nice conversation about using respectful words to express his frustration.)  It means that I actually did something right yesterday. 
And after the day I had yesterday, that is a BIG win.

Lord, help me to be a "Good Mom" in your eyes, even when, especially when, my children think I am a bad one.

Thanksgiving Road Trip

This past week we took a road trip to Kentucky to see family for Thanksgiving.  8-9 hours in the car with 4 little boys is not for the weak.  We spent 8 hours in the car on Tuesday night, and 9 hours in the car on Saturday morning.  Although the drive is not the most fun, I am so thankful that we got to see family. 

Our trip consisted of lots of rambling from Aiden, Noah telling crazy stories, Kenneth and I agreeing to stories we could not understand, babies crying, Asa saying "dada dada dada" over and over and over and over, and random dives into the backseat looking for Nathan's lost paci. 

Here are some pictures.  You will find a lot of the following on our road trips.

Elmo DVDs....the only thing that makes Asa quiet for more than 5 minutes.









(This space intentionally left blank to save your stomach.  Just picture a lot of Aiden vomit.  He gets car sick.)

And sometimes, you will look back and see your boys entertaining each other and being sweet.

The Real Meaning of Ghetto

Apparently my kids are more talented than I even realized.

Today I was changing Nathan's diaper.  Aiden said, "Did Nathan pee?"  I was really focused on changing the diaper so I didn't give an immediate answer.

I am going to pause right here and give you a little insight about Aiden. 
You never ignore him. 
I mean, you can try, but then he is going to make sure that you can't.  You never even pause before answering him.  Because he thinks you are ignoring him.  He will say the same thing or ask you the same question over and over and over and over until you stop him in the middle of his continual talking to answer him.

So, today, when I didn't answer him right away he kept asking questions.  Finally he said, "Did Nathan ghetto?"  It was one of those moments when the record scratches and the music stops and you just look and say, "huh?" 
"Did Nathan ghetto?!"  Aiden yelled louder.
"You mean, did Nathan poop?"
"No!" Aiden was getting ticked now because I couldn't understand him.  "Did Nathan ghetto!"

"Did Nathan ghetto?"  I said puzzled.
"Yes!" Aiden said in such an annoyed tone.
"What are you talking about?  What do you mean, 'Did Nathan ghetto?'"
Then Aiden informed me of his new skill.  All this time I had never realized that I had a little Webster dictionary on my hands. 
"Ghetto is when you poop really hard in your diaper."

Well, now you know what the word "Ghetto" really means. 
You're welcome.

Lessons in Pee

I promise that my life does not revolve around the bathroom.

However, it seems like the boys are obsessed with it.  I have to block all access to the potty because Asa and Nathan think it is the coolest playground evah. 

Tonight we got home late because we were at church and I was trying to get Asa and Nathan to bed quickly.  I was changing Asa when out of the bathroom I heard Aiden screaming "No Nathan!  Mooommy!!!!"  The words I dread.  Hearing your name screamed in panic from the bathroom never leads to anything good.

I ran in to find Nathan covered in water. 
The floor was soaked. 
Nathan was cracking up.
Aiden said sadly, "Mommy.  He play in my pee."  REALLY?!

I had to pry Nathan off the toilet finger by finger because he had a death grip on the commode.  He was ticked that I was pulling him away from such fun.  Screaming ensued.  Between gags I managed to give him a bath while Noah and Aiden "helped." 

I can't help but to be reminded of myself.  How often has God had to pry me from something because He knows it is no longer good for me, and yet I think it is best?  I let him pull me away but I am kicking and screaming the whole way.  Convicting. 

God uses so many things to teach me more about Himself and His unending, unrelenting love for me.  Sometimes it comes in the form of my baby playing in my other son's pee.

It's My Mind's Fault!

Today I had one of the funniest conversations with Noah.

It was nap time and naps weren't happening.  After going in to Noah's room multiple times telling him to go to sleep and exercising various forms of discipline, I finally made him go into my bedroom because I wanted Nathan to get a nap (they are currently sharing a bedroom). 
The move did not help.  His antics did not stop.  I about lost it when I walked in to find all of my jewelry spread across the bed and a broken bracelet. 
After laying down the final discipline kiss of death, the following conversation ensued, with Noah in tears. 
Me: "You made some bad choices.  Who's fault is that?"
Noah, pointing to himself, red in the face, crying.
Me: "Use your words.  It was your fault wasn't it?"
Noah, nodding his head, through tears, screaming: "It wasn't my fault.  It was my mind's fault!  I don't understand it!"
He was so serious, and so mad.  His gestures were dramatic.
He further explained to me, "Ever since I got home from school my brain just won't stop!  It won't let me sleep.  I am trying to sleep but it keeps waking me up!  It's crazy!  I don't understand why."

Okay.  That is hilarious.
It isn't his fault that he won't take a nap, and that he is keeping his brothers awake, and that my jewelry is all over the bed.  It is his mind.  His brain is telling him to do those things.

Although it sounds like a multiple personality disorder, I must confess that I think it is pretty genius of him.

I can't believe that at 4 years old he realizes that his brain is working so hard that he can't "turn off his mind."  He is actually feeling what it is like to be physically tired but mentally firing on all cylinders, and he is fully aware that it is happening.  Poor thing.  I don't think I was ever that self-aware. 

We made him go to bed early tonight as part of his punishment and he had bags under his eyes.  (Last night he claimed that he couldn't sleep because he kept thinking about dreams, so he was getting out of bed using some crazy excuses until about 9:30).

I am praying that he gets some rest tonight, and that whatever is making his brain so crazy isn't as intense.  And maybe I will let him use some of that eye cream that the lady at the make-up counter so graciously gave me for free the last time I was there.

In the Park

Today I ventured out and took the boys to a park.  (Special shout-out to Mrs. Martha for taking us out last week and showing us all the parks in town).  It is a really nice park, and it was an incredible day.  74 degrees on the 7th of November, yes, please!

While playing at the park one of my sweet cherubs declared that he had to go to the bathroom.  We were all alone so I told him to go over to the tree line and pee there.  One of several perks to having all boys.  Just drop your drawers pretty much wherever. 

About a minute later I glanced over just to check on him.  Then out of the corner of my eye I saw him squatting to poop!  SERIOUSLY kid?!  Does he not know that we don't poop at the tree line of a park?!  Did I not teach him anything?!  Of course, standing right next to him, proudly, is another of my sweet cherubs (the 2 year old) trying to pull off his diaper and squat to poop too.  Goodness gracious. Boys, FYI, I don't pack toilet paper in the diaper bag.

Thankfully I saw this unfold before any damage had been done and we all made a quick recovery.  Looks like after nap time today we are going to be having a little home school lesson.

Yep, They're Brothers

WARNING: Not for the faint of stomach.

This morning as I was changing one dirty diaper I heard Noah going to the bathroom. I then heard, "Mom. I'm finished. Come wipe my butt." I said, "You are going to have to wait because I am in the middle of changing Nathan's diaper." He always has impeccable timing.

Then the dreaded words. "Aiden! Will you come wipe my butt?!"
Ugh.
Then even more dreaded words. "Sure! I'll help you."
Pause.
Scurrying of feet.
Then, "Noah, bend over."

I finished up as quickly as I could. I walked into the bathroom to find Noah bent over, hands around his ankles, Aiden towering over him, wad of toilet paper in hand. Aiden proudly declared, "I am helping Noah clean his butt."
Awesome.

If there was any question as to whether two boys from a different birth mother could really be brothers, I submit the above evidence.

Here We Are

We have officially moved to Alabaster, Alabama as of Sunday.

Life has been so crazy and busy in this last week that I hardly know where to start.
A week ago today I took the boys to our house in Nicholasville, Kentucky for what may have been the last time. I let them run around and play for about an hour in our empty house. It was so incredibly sad for me. I went room by room and was flooded with memories of each of the boys. Many hours of wrestling and crafting and sleeping and playing. I love that house. As we pulled out of the driveway Noah and Aiden just yelled, "Bye Bye House!" and that was that.

Now here I am standing in the kitchen of our rental house until we can sell our home in Kentucky and find a place here. The boys are adjusting pretty well for the most part. Every once in a while Noah or Aiden will get very sad and talk about how much they miss Kentucky, our old house, their grandparents, their school. We have to remind them, and ourselves, that God has an awesome plan in store for us here in Alabama. There are a lot of cool things we can do here, too. Our new trampoline for example.

I am looking forward to getting settled in, although I am not sure how long that is going to take. So far the people have been amazing, and we love our new church home. We are excited to see what God has in store for us.