And So I Sanitize

We've all heard that denial is not just a river in Egypt, but really? Did it have to come in the form of cockroaches invading my bathroom drawer EVERY night? And you know how I know they are there? Because I get up earlier now (I'm in training for "real" life) and when I walk in the bathroom and open my bathroom drawer to take out my toothbrush to do the very first thing that I do every morning, I get greeted by the very last thing I want to see every morning.

Cockroach.

And I swear it's the same little fella. I know there is probably a whole slew of them that party it up in my bathroom all night long, but he seems to stick around for last call and then passes out in my bathroom drawer only to be wakened by the bathroom light flicking on and his "bed" being moved open.

And can I just ask if anyone else has seen Wall-E? You know how he's got that little side-kick roach friend THAT. NEVER. DIES. He gets A-bombed by Eve, and he still never dies.

Lord, help me.

And send my friend to rehab, or find him a darn robot to follow around. Because I have bought way too many replacement toothbrushes in the last two weeks and I would start hiding them under my mattress if I wasn't convinced that I was a princess that might feel the discomfort.

I'm considering buying alcohol, filling up a glass and setting my toothbrush in that all night long. I just don't know that I would like a hair of a dog that never bit me starting off my day.

That, and I might see 6 kids instead of 3 when they wake up...

I'm A Beautiful Flower

This morning, I went out to check on my Calla Lillies and I had a little glimpse of the amazing love that God has for me.

The very next day after I planted my bulbs, I went and stared at that spot in the ground. I stared and stared. I did this for weeks. I would squat down and examine the soil. I watered it daily. I made a routine out of heading out first thing in the morning to go and check on my flowers . Noone passing by could have known what that barren spot would someday house. I was so excited for the beauty that I knew would some day bloom.

The day that my first stem broke ground, I will never forget. That tiny stem would have gone unnoticed had I not known that area of soil so well. Certainly as it grew, it would have been seen, but I saw it as a tiny speck just surfacing the soil. I jumped and screamed with joy. I had to point it out to Sebi and Sebastian. It was so small and hardly noticeable, but I saw it. I can't explain the gratification I had in seeing it surface followed by two, three and four more.

Now they are a good 12 inches above ground and I have about 6 new stems just surfacing. This morning when I went to go do my daily check, I noticed that one of my grown leaves was at a 90 degree angle and flat on the ground. My heart sank. A cat ran into it? A ball thrown by a young child from the neighborhood? What could have possibly happened to my precious plant?

It was broken. That's all I could think, and I cried. I cried because when I thought of my plant being broken, I thought of the times when I myself have been broken. I thought of my love for that plant and how much I wanted it to be strong and steady. I thought of how I wanted to see the beauty that I knew it had coming in a bloom. I wiped the tears from my eyes and I gathered some fresh soil to support the base of the stem until I had it upright again.

I went inside hopeful that my little plant would heal, and I thought of the care I had taken to nurture it back to good health. I thought of how I had provided it all that I could so that it would become what I had intended it to be.

I thought of all of the things that I am provided and blessed with. I thought of how I have been fed and nurtured spiritually and given a strong foundation of faith. I thought of planting myself in good soil and surrounding myself with support from my church family.

I thought of God looking down at me daily, so excited to see the woman he created. And it made me want to bloom.

It's All Relative. Except That They Are The Same Age.

I know I've mentioned that I don't use the term twins hardly ever. But it came to my realization the other day that maybe I should educate Sebi as to just what exactly twins are, being that he will be in a school which will probably mention to him on more than one occasion that he is the big brother of twins.

Gabriel uses a pacifier. He is my only child that ever has. Homer sucks his thumb. He is my only child that ever has. And there you have it, I have three unique, completely different boys that have their own God-made plans that I can neither change nor wish anything other for them.

Yesterday, Homer was being a little ham like he tends to be often, and he found one of Gabriel's pacifiers and put it in his mouth. I kid you not, he knew not how to suck it, he just held it there between his teeth showing everyone as if to say, "do you see that this is not normal for me? isn't this funny?" And it was.

But then, Sebi said,

"Homer! That's Gabriel's mah-moy! (our word for his paci) That's silly. Don't worry, Homer. Some day you'll grow up and you'll be able to use a mah-moy just like Gabriel!"



Let's all remember for Sebi's sake that Gabriel is in the 95th percentile for height, while Homer barely makes the 50th.



But, I really should explain how they have the same birthday some time soon.

Now Tell Me That Ain't Cute

I've always loved my Pudgy's bottom. And yes, that skin is as soft as it looks. I'm holding on to all the baby I have left...*sigh*

Cordial Inappropriateness

Sebi: "Mommy? Will you please pause this Max and Ruby- otherwise I'm going to go poop all over myself."

When Does THIS Stop?

Or is this just the beginning?