Wesley Adam Mills, Jr

A few months ago, I blogged about a friend who was pregnant with a sweet little boy, Wesley Adam. She found out during her 20 week ultra sound that there was something wrong with her sweet baby boy and the prognosis was very grim.

However, through all this, Jenny remained strong in her faith and her unwaivering love of the Lord stood out as a true testament to all who know her. Jenny is a great Christian and a wonderful Mommy and wife.


**I kidnapped this picture of adorable Jenny holding that sweet boy from her blog. So precious!

On Monday, November 22nd, Jenny went to her OBGYN to find out that Wesley Adam had become an Angel.

Please keep Jenny and her family in your prayers during this time of trial. She is very strong in her faith and is supported by a loving Christian family.

However, letting go of your son, knowing that his body is whole and free of pain as he is dancing with the other angels, is going to be a hard road for them all. Pray for them so they can feel the love of others holding them up during this time.

Tea Topper

I cannot remember if I blogged about the funny names that Hannah asks us to call her. This girl is a character. Almost every day it's something different. A few that I can remember are:

• Panny Cake
• Taco
• Bubbles
• Han
• Hanny
• Handy Hannah
• Waffle
• Tea Topper
• Banana Boat

Keeping in the spirit of Hannah, I thought I would share a few things that she has said/done over the past few weeks:

I was reading something and Hannah was asking me a question. I was tuning her out and she said "HELLO!? Mommy! Are you death?" (deaf)

Hannah calls Tootsie Rolls "Titsie Rolls" and Jaw Breakers "Tarter Balls".

Travis was gone hunting and the girls and I were headed shopping. As we were backing out of the the garage, Hannah said "OH MY GOODNESS! I LOVE when Daddy is hunting. Having all girls in the car is way funner than having a stinky boy in here too!"

(These next two stories are not incredibly nice, but really funny...so please excuse)

Hannah got in trouble for calling her teacher a "fat girl" at school. I told her that the next day, she needed to apologize to her teacher for talking ugly to her. The next morning on the way to school, I asked her, "What are you going to tell your teacher today?" She said (in her sweetest, most sincere voice), "I am going to say 'Teacher, I am so sorry you are fat'". (Don't worry, I told her that a simple "I'm sorry" would suffice).

The girls were playing and Hannah was running around with a metal cooking pot on her head. She said "HEY EMMA! Look at me! I'm a pot-head" During this same conversation, they were arguing and Hannah said "That's it Emma! No more pot for you!"

Conversation between Hannah and Emma:
Hannah: Go get my baby's bib and bottle from my room.
Emma (as she is getting up to do what Hannah said): Why are you always so bossy?
Hannah: If you do what I say, I won't have to boss you too much!

A different conversation:
Hannah: I know how to say "red" in sign language.
Emma: Oh (not looking up from what she was doing)
Hannah: Emma! Look at me!
Emma: (Looks up)
Hannah: (mouths the word "red")

OH MY! The teenage years with this little sass-arella are going to be crazy, but she sure keeps us all laughing!

Just a Reminder...

There are some days when my kids drive me BONKERS! Absolutely, 110% out of my gourd. There are days that I can.not.wait until bedtime. (If you think I'm a bad mom for having these days, this blog is NOT for you.)

Now, do not get me wrong. Being a Mommy is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I LOVE Emma, Hannah and Catherine so much it hurts. I would do anything for them. Even on those nights, I feel like I am going to lose my mind, after they are in bed, I always go in, watch them sleeping and thank God for giving them to me.

But, sometimes, all mommies need a little reminder. I got this email THREE years ago from my mom. I hang on to it and read it occasionally and especially the days I am at my wits end.

It reminds me how quickly time is going to go by and that my kids won't remember if there was clutter on the counters, but they will remember the dance parties, make-overs and lego towers. It also reminds me that even though I feel (most of the time) like I have NO idea, the girls are going to turn out JUST fine with a lot of love, which just so happens to be the one thing I know I can do right!

So, enjoy!

Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author

All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who,miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.

Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations -- what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.

Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.

When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet,and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.

Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the, "Remember-When- Mom-Did Hall of Fame." The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine , not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I replied,"What did you get wrong?". (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?

But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night.

I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

The note from my mom when she sent this article:

"Funny that I read this just today. I have been thinking about you for several days. I am amazed at what a wonderful mother you are! And now you have two beautiful, healthy daughters.I read this and thought of you and of me. I especially wanted you to read the last part about living in the moment and not hurrying to the next thing.I challenge you to do that. Because as you will find too soon, they will be gone. All grown up and wonderful just like their mother! I love you more than you will ever know.

Always,
Your mother"

**What an awesome thing to be called "a wonderful mother" by the most wonderful mother of all! I love you, Mom!

She's a Wild One

Who really loves to brush her teeth!

Scooby Dooby Doo Where Are You?

We had a very happy Halloween in our house (including a T-total meltdown from the baby child!)

The festivities started off one night when we FINALLY got around to carving our pumpkin. (I photographed...pumpkin carving is not my thing). After bath, the girls and Travis carved the not so scary Williamson pumpkin.

Emma's favorite part was sticking her hands into the pumpkin to pull out it's guts. Hannah wasn't so sure about that, so she used a spoon and then held a couple of seeds for a picture. Catherine...she fell asleep, as usual.

Friday, the girls all had their parties at Coleman's. Of course, that called for a cutesy holiday outfit for all. Enjoy these pics...pretty sure there isn't one where everyone is smiling/looking/eyes open/not trying to jump off the hearth in the whole bunch, such is life with three kids!

Emma and Hannah also had some fun with vampire teeth and teaching Catherine how to "growl like a vampire", (I tried to explain that werewolves growled not vampires, but as usual, no one listened.)

Finally, Halloween arrived and it was time. The girls dressed up like Scooby Doo and the Mystery Crew (Scooby, Daphne, and Velma). WAY too many pictures to follow.

Catherine had a slight meltdown over a skittle and some chap stick (don't ask for details), but we got it all worked out and had a blast trick or treating our way through the neighborhood. After we finished, Travis and I checked the candy (Actually, we went through the buckets and picked out a few of our favs to eat. Because, really? Who puts razorblades in kids candy? Not my 80 year old neighbors I am sure!) Then, it was CANDY FOR DINNER! Happy Halloween!