It's Pouring.

In the last three weeks...

Derek's Dad (who keeps Ella and Carson at least one day per week) had a major surgery. It was a scary time - but by the grace of God, he is well.

Derek went to the ER and ended up hospitalized for 3 days.

Our refrigerator died and we had to pack up all our food in coolers.

Derek had to have surgery on his elbow.



We got a phone call from school that Ella was not listening well and not following directions. (Agreed, this is an issue...however: there are 28 six-year-olds in this 18x18 classroom. I'm wondering...can any of them listen well? How does anyone hear anything?)

I took over a huge "rush" project for my boss at work...and worked late nights to complete a documentary that should have taken 4 weeks, but we only had 8 days.

Carson took up the habit of hiding from us...in the pantry, the refrigerator, or sometimes our cars in the garage. While this might sound funny, hearing a muffled giggle from your crisper drawer can be just a tad bit alarming.

Mom (who also keeps the kids at least 1 day per week) had to have surgery. Thankfully, she is on the mend as well.

Carson decided one night that 3am is a fun time to wander throughout the house screaming, and it's been that way every night since. Wide awake at age two. Aren't we supposed to be past this phase?

Derek started back to school full time after working all summer, so we went back to one income. It will be like this for 15 straight months until he graduates.



In the midst of this I decided to make brownies on a night Derek was studying. It was great until I took this photo, then the kids got in a fight and pounded each other with the beaters. By the time I broke it up, we all looked like James Brown. Chocolate was flung into far corners and crevices of my kitchen.

And lastly, Carson's potty training took on a whole new dimension last week as he ran to the restroom and pooped, (unannounced) then tried to wipe himself and got distracted. Instead, he decided it would be a better idea to get off the toilet and dunk the WHOLE ROLL right into the poo water. As I entered the room, I got to witness him lifting the soggy roll out to sniff the results. Consequently, he then gagged and barfed all over himself. I gasped, sprinted forward to help him, tripped over a plastic light saber, and fell to the floor. Stellar.

I realize that this is life, and stuff happens. But there is always a balance. For every good, there is bad and then the cycle begins again. This, however, is more of a "when it rains, it pours" scenario and my umbrella is looking a little rickety.

Maybe times like these are a sign that we should all submit and just dance around in the downpour?