Pajama Day Everyday
It's hard to believe, but Chris and I just celebrated the 14th anniversary of the craziest Christmas ever. We decided to cram a wedding, a college graduation, a honeymoon, and Christmas into one week, much to our parents' delight. We all survived, and fourteen years later, we're still going strong.
Personally, I like this phase of marriage better than that newlywed stuff. We're to the point in our relationship where he gives me the anniversary gifts I really want...like clean bathrooms...and our big date night consists of a trip to Chili's with a gift card and last minute Christmas errands to Walmart...and we still enjoy the night. Who needs a big hoopla when you get to enjoy everyday with a kind, helpful, loving, Jesus-following husband and four wild kids?
Below you will see Jack's fourth and final Christmas performance of 2012. Last week was a big week for the little guy behind the microphone. Since I missed the first big solo, I was thankful to get to see a replay at a local nursing home last Sunday. He just looks so adorable and little, and he did a really good job, in my personal opinion, which is not at all biased.
The good news is that I may get to see him perform in the band one day as well. When Maddie, Jack, and I were discussing the possibility of them being in the middle school band one day, he finally decided he might like to play the trumpet.
Then he cheerfully added, "And mama, if you're still alive, you can come see me perform."
I don't know whether to be concerned that he's had some premonition from the Lord regarding my premature death or insulted that he thinks I'm so old and fragile that I'm apparently knocking on death's door. When I got a little miffed and asked him about his comment, he said, with much exasperation, "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just sayin', if you're still alive."
Of course, I have convinced myself several times this week that I might be dying, but a not-so-quick trip to the doc that seems a full step up from the doc-in-the-box yesterday, along with a nice chest x-ray, assured me that I'm not. I did endure a brief scolding for not trying some over the counter meds before coming, which was probably deserved as there's a good chance I contracted something much worse than this cough from all those hagard people in the waiting room. Not the best $30 I ever spent, but I suppose it did buy me a little peace of mind, if you can truly get that from an almost-doc-in-the-box.
So this morning, I said something I've never said before, to my knowledge:
"Luke, I fixed your monkey's bottom."
I don't know why, but it was funny to me.
That poor monkey has probably felt like a victim of socialized healthcare, as he's been waiting for a couple weeks on the kitchen counter for the surgeon to take care of his problem. The said surgeon has walked by that pitiful monkey about 1,021 times without fixing it for no other reason than she's a firm follower of the philosophy, "Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?"
I'm happy to report that the monkey came through the surgery fine and appears to be making a full recovery. Time will tell...if we find more monkey stuffing around our house or not.
So you can see it's been a pretty exciting week leading up to Christmas. Mostly, we've been doing this...
lots and lots of pajama days.
These two can be pretty sweet. At times. When they're not fighting or kicking or biting, which Sam apparently likes to do when Chris and I go on a date.
Luke tells me, almost everyday, "Mommy, I love everybody in our family...except you." I'm pretty sure he's confused the word except with the word especially. No, really, I think he has. I'm not just saying that to make myself feel better. Really.
So that's pretty much it. We might go somewhere today. But that will take getting dressed and walking to the car, so we'll see. That's kind of asking a lot.