The One with the Stick

I was encouraged by some good friends to share this story on my blog… so, here goes.

Anyone trying to get pregnant knows the ultimate excitement and anticipation each time it is time to pee on the magic stick. In 2001 we started to try and get pregnant shortly after 9/11. The tragedy of Grant’s (Steven’s dad) death in April of that year and the unimaginable of 9/11 left us knowing it was time to move forward with life.

It was with grand excitement that we became pregnant right away and with even greater sadness that that pregnancy ended shortly after it began. We were told to wait 3 months before trying to conceive again. A long three months later we started trying again. For the next 8 months as soon as it was possible for a pregnancy test to show positive results, I would start taking tests. On this particular morning in October, I got up at 4:00 in the morning and took the first test. Unbelievably it was positive. Around 6:00 a.m., I took the second followed by the third and the fourth. They were all joyously positive.

Even though it was very early, we couldn’t contain our excitement. We were heading to my parents and I packed two of the test sticks with me. I placed each test in a paper bag. Told my mom and dad to close their eyes and gave them each a bag. I then told them to guess what was in the bag. Each took out a stick and started exploring it with their hands. My mom figured it out very quickly and started dancing with excitement. Dad, on the other hand, intent on his task, continued to explore the stick with his hands. We finally left him off the hook and explained what it was and then encouraged him to wash his hands. : )

God’s gift was Miss Grace. She is one of the most sensitive, loving, intelligent, inspiring people I know. She is beautiful and funny and makes me want to be a better person so that I can live up to what she needs in her mom. She will do remarkable things and I’m so very proud of her. Thank you God for my gift.

P.S. Please forgive my typos and such in this story. Tears are flowing as I remember the ups and downs of this time in our lives.

Smell This

In my house there are three cats, a dog, assorted fish, a guinea pig, two kids, and a husband. There are always smells to be identified and defeated. Unfortunately, many of those smells come from Gabe. You see, he claims he is a super hero, Fart Boy to be exact. Of course there are the powers that come from his bottom but also, his enhanced powers that his daddy helps him develop by giving him garlic bologna. His bad breath power keeps the girls away which in Gabe’s eyes is the best power ever. So, as you can imagine, the story I am about to tell you could have gone several different ways.

This morning Fart Boy was in my bathroom and I was in my bedroom putting on my makeup. He opened the door and came running out to me. He said, “Momma, I just pooped in there. Smell my hands.” He then shoved his hands toward my face. I recoiled with the instincts of a cat and asked, “Did you wash your hands?” He looked at his hands and said, “Oh” and ran back into the bathroom.

Thankfully, when I mentioned the hand washing he realized that after he had washed his hands, he hadn’t dried them. He ran to the bathroom to do that and then return and said, “I washed them. Smell them. I did it all by myself.” He was so proud of himself and I was so thankful! His little hands smelled like yummy raspberry soap. All was good in the Schrec house.

First Day of School... and More

My baby Gabe started kindergarten today. Momma wasn't quite as prepared as I would have hoped to have been. It is hard to see the little ones take that big step but I was so proud of him and Grace who started 2nd grade. She was mother goose helping get him ready and encouraging him with lots of words of wisdom.

Not to go a day without a bit of laughter, Gabe started the day off right. As we were waiting for the bus stop I was fussing over his jacket and hat and he asked his grandma, "Munga, do you think the girls will think I'm too hot?" I can't imagine what it will be like when he is a little older if he is already thinking he's going to have to push back on all the ladies. : )

As the day went on I became more and more impatient for the end of the day. I was excited to hear how their day went. I met them at the bus stop in hopes of getting a picture of them stepping off the bus. There was a delay after the bus stopped at our driveway. I saw Grace standing at his front seat but wasn’t sure what was happening. It was then that the bus driver told me what was going on. Gabe had fallen asleep and Grace was waking him. Once he got up and was standing at the top of the steps, I had to take his backpack. He declared he was just too tired to carry it. He then sat on his butt and slid down the bus steps. My boy was wore out. : )

Grace was very excited and quickly shared the details of her day. She was pleased to see old friends and happy to meet new. Later in the evening, as I was helping her get a bath, I said that we would need to figure out a new goal for her to work toward as a reward for continuing to patch her eye. She recently received a guinea pig as a reward for clocking many hours this summer. Not one to miss a beat, she quickly said, "I'm thinking of a horse." As I cracked up she then asked, "What? It can't be more work than a guinea pig? : )

Today was a great day. Hopefully more smiles to come tomorrow.

Fourth of July Hottie

Tonight I took the kids to see fireworks in Ford City. On the way, we stopped at Dairy Queen to get some ice cream. While waiting in the drive-thru line, a young couple walked out of the restaurant to their car. The girl had long blond hair and was wearing a pink spaghetti strap tank top with white shorts. She was a pretty girl and Gabe quickly noticed. He sprang to life in the back seat of the truck and declared, "Hot Hot Hot!" Oh my. Remember, he just turned five in May. I am in so much trouble with this one. : ) Happy Fourth of July everone.

The White Shirt

I typically write the episodes of our life in the first person having been witness to the antics that is our family. Unfortunately, today’s story happened while I was out of town and I am sharing the story as told to me by Steven.

It was with great stress and guilt this morning that I left for the airport for a business trip as Steven stayed home with Gabe (who had diarrhea) and Grace (who was throwing up). After arriving in Birmingham, I called Steven to find out how things were going. He told me that he had been sorting clothes to wash on the bathroom floor when Gabe declared he had to pee. Poor Gabe went into pee and while standing there he ended up having an explosive episode from the other side. One of Steven’s white t-shirts fell victim. Steven scrubbed and rinsed the shirt and then sprayed it with Shout and put it to soak in the bathroom sink.

A little while later Grace woke from a nap and ran into the bathroom to vomit. She didn’t make it to the toilet but instead threw up…. yep, in the sink on top of shirt.
I couldn’t hold my laughter when Steven told me but don’t worry, he said he too had to laugh. While he was laughing, Grace declared… “Dad, you’re going to want to clean that sink.”

It will be good to be home. I need to take care of my babies and my wonderful hubby!

Antiques are valuable... right?

Gabe was mad at me this morning because I was making him do something terrible... he had to brush his teeth. So, in his anger he yelled, "You're an antique." I couldn't believe what I heard so I said, "What did you say?" He validated my first thought, "I said you're an antique. That means you are a really old thing." I laughed out loud in spite of myself. : )

Boys Will Be Boys

As you may know, I spent my high school years in the band as a majorette. I still have a baton around and the kids enjoy playing with it from time to time. On Sunday night Grace had the baton and then it was Gabriel’s turn. He “twirled” it at first and then used it as a microphone and sang into it for a while.

And then… Gabriel was Gabriel.

Gabe took the baton and put it between his legs so that it stuck out in a way that underlined his boyness. He then said, “Momma, look at my big pickle” while he rocked his hips back and forth. Now, if he were twelve or even eight I might not have had the same reaction but when a four year old does it, it is rotten – but innocent and it made me laugh so hard that I cried.