Warning. TMI for sure, but I can't help it.

Okay, so I'll apologize to Ryan now for writing this one, but I just can't help myself. First, an explanation. Like all good nicknames do, the word we use for Ryan's private parts just sort of evolved. We use the word "peep." We use this word for what you do in the potty and for the "unit" itself. I have no idea how we came up with this, like I said, it just evolved. "Do you need to go peep in the potty?" In the bath tub, "make sure you wash your peep." Anyway, there it is. TMI though it may be.
Here's the good part though. This morning he comes up to me, no pants on, and tells me that he got a scratch. He climbs up on the bed and lays down to show me. His testicles are all red. "Mommy, I was taking my pants off, and I got a scratch on my peep tank!"
I almost "peeped" my pants I was laughing so hard.

Pokies

So when Ryan got his stitches he called them pokies. They were poky. Little black knots with little black ends poking out. You know the kind right? Black, flexible like thread, but thicker and super heavy duty. Well the pokies are long gone and we are all happy about that. But, man this kid has a brain like a sponge. So last night we were snuggling in the rocking chair and I had my legs crossed with his feet tucked in the middle under them. I was wearing some capri length yoga pants and so sitting like that, my calves were exposed. With his little feet and toes gently moving back and forth across my leg, he stiffens suddenly. He turns to me and asks, "Mommy, why do you have pokies on your legs?" Needless to say, I shaved my legs this morning.

Year End Update

So it's been quite a while since I last wrote. A lot has happened since October! My sister came to visit for three weeks with her little muffin of a kiddo and we had a blast playing, going to the zoo, going to OMSI, and basically having a great time.
In November Jason got his tonsils taken out. That was a rough three weeks. During that time I got bronchitis, which eventually became walking pneumonia. I am just now getting over that. Cough, cough.
Also during this time Ryan got bitten in the face by a dog. Urgent care, stitches, swelling, ointment, more swelling, more ointment. It was not fun. He has a couple of scars, but is otherwise unscathed. Thank God.
Just a few short weeks after the dog bite came another ER visit for Ryan after he swallowed a button battery. Call the poison control center (for the second time in three years), rush to the ER, xray, waiting room. Ta-da! Look at that! What a shiny, lovely battery right there in your stomach honey! Following the battery swallowing came two weeks of "looking" for it at the other end. I won't go into details. Suffice it to say, it was a smelly ordeal. Since we never "found" it, we went to the doctor a couple of days ago for another xray, and, again Thank God, the battery is gone. "He musta slipped it by ya!" The doctor says with a sly grin. Nice. At least we don't have to look for it anymore.
And before we knew it, it was Christmas and we were jetting off to Gig Harbor and Anacortes to spend time with the Grandparents. We logged a lot of miles this Christmas, but it was well worth it. We had a great time visiting and playing together, and were happily tuckered out by the time we got home.
And today is New Year's Eve. With all the excitement of the last couple of months, I think we will spend the last day of the year in our pajamas!

Cake

Nap time yesterday. We were tucking in, taking sips of water, saying prayers, and generally getting settled down. Ryan was stalling a little bit. He started gesturing with his hands and explaining to me that "when we get done with our rest, we can eat this cake." I go along with it. "Oh, honey that cake looks great. Did you make it for us?" "Yes, I did. It's got chocolate, peanuts, macaroni, onions, strawberries, and juice!" I pause as I picture such a cake. "Wow honey. That sounds great!" I have no idea how he came up with this combination, but I just go with it.

Jesus continued...

Ok, I couldn't help myself. I am a picker. I have always been a picker. It's hereditary. I get it from...one of my parents who shall remain nameless so as not to embarrass. At least I have stopped biting my nails. My cuticles, on the other hand, another story. But this post is not about me. Well, not directly. Just get that I am a picker.
You might remember we've been having lots of discussions with Ryan about how Jesus heals us and how He lives in our hearts. We have talked about how Jesus is healing Ryan's "bubbles." Ryan tells us every day about how "Jesus makes my fee better." So, enter me. The picker. You have to understand, Ryan has these blisters everywhere. They are not soft like water blisters. They are hard and getting harder as they heal. I was curious. I wanted to know if they were gonna burst grody virus juice everywhere or if they were gonna just return from whence they came, so to speak. So, I grabbed Ryan's finger in one hand, and a piece of paper towel in another hand (ready for the grody virus juice) and I picked the blister off. No juice. Thank goodness. Just a red spot. Ok, I can handle this. Ryan, on the other hand is totally squirming around "Mommy, let go." I let go. Ryan inspects his finger. Solemn faced, he looks at me. "Mommy, Jesus is not gonna be happy about this." Oops.

Where Jesus Lives

Ryan recently contracted the virus that causes Hand, Foot, and Mouth disease. It is a common childhood illness that causes multiple canker sores to develop in the mouth, on the gums, tongue, soft pallet, and down the throat. It also causes blisters on the hands and feet, and in Ryan's case, up his legs, arms, and all over his buns. He had a fever of 103 for two and a half days. He barely ate anything for five days. It is by far the worst acute illness he has had in his three years of life. We are currently on day seven of isolation. Needless to say, much time has been spent in prayer on his behalf lately.
A couple of nights ago as I was putting him to bed, we were praying about "his bubbles" as he calls them. Having just returned from Women's Retreat the previous weekend and having enjoyed some powerful worship time, I decided to sing worship songs over him. "I will sing praise, I will sing praise, no weapon formed against me shall remain. I will rejoice, I will declare, God is my victory and He is here...." Ryan is curious about this. "God is here?" "Yes honey, He is. Honey, do you know where Jesus lives?" I ask. Ryan thinks for a second. "Hmm?" I go on. "He lives in our hearts. He lives in your heart, and He lives in my heart." I pat our chests. Ryan pats his chest. "Jesus lives in my heart," he repeats. I am loving this and thinking that I have imparted a profound wisdom to my little boy here. God is good and this is such a sweet God moment.
The following morning we are snuggling in the rocking chair like we do every morning. We are quiet, and cozy and wrapped in a blanket. Ryan looks up at me. "Mom, Jesus makes my bubbles feel better." "I am so glad, honey." Suddenly, Ryan turns and begins pulling at the blanket. He unwraps us and grabs a hold of my tank top. He pulls open my top and sticks his head down my shirt. "Jeeeesssuuuusss! Jeeesuuuuuuus! Are you in there? Jeesuuuuss!" Not exactly what I was trying to teach him last night, but o well.

Being a mom means...

Giving up all the strawberries in your Red Robin strawberry lemonade.
Never going to the bathroom alone again.
Having to blow on someone else's food while you're dying to eat yours.
Researching and appreciating the finer points of stain removers.
Getting over your squeamishness of other people's bodily functions.
Learning the true meaning of the word repetition.
Being the recipient of the best good morning snuggles on the planet.
Never sleeping again.
Morphing craft time from knitting and beading to finger paint and sidewalk chalk.
Needing the phone number for poison control for the first time in your life.
Trying to explain why balloons don't stay up forever.
Never being able to have your plate of food belong to only you again.
Loving someone more than you ever thought possible.