Another Endorsement Comes In

*This post is for everyone except Alyssa. She is the only person in the world who does not watch American Idol, even though of all the people I know she is the one who would most enjoy it.*

The American Idol finale was tonight and the music moved me to tears more than once and by both singers. I think it might have been the best finale in AI history.

David Archuletta has a pure voice. Seriously, if there was ever a voice sent by a god, it would be his. He is sincere and earnest and phenomenally gifted. You get the impression that when he sings "Imagine," he truly is imagining all the people living life in peace - and more importantly, he is still pure enough to believe that it one day may happen. If I could close my eyes and listen to any one voice for the rest of my life, it would probably be his.

Despite all of that, I hereby endorse David Cook for American Idol Winner. He has a powerful, strong, sexy voice. He is a talented entertainer and arranges songs so creatively and ingeniously that you can hardly believe they were ever sung any other way. But the reason he is my choice is because he has lived his songs. When he sings "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" you know he has felt that longing. When he sings about a broken heart, you can feel the ache that he has endured. When he sings about how he is still standing, you know that he is really singing a song about his brother's fight to live. The guy has a depth to his music that you can only have if you've stood on the rocky road. Paula, for once, hit the nail on the head in her critique of his music. He sings his truth and he sings it with integrity.

All that said, I think Archuletta is going to win. But I'm going to buy Cook's album.

On Taking Things Literally

An out of the blue conversation between Sam and Jack while playing playdough.

Jack: Everone has to die, Sam.

Sam: No. Not everyone dies. Jesus didn't die.

Jack: Yes, he did. Remember they nailed him up and he died.

Sam: Yeah, but he came back to life.

Jack: Well if he came back to life, where is he now?

Sam: He lives in our hearts.

Jack: That is impossible. You can't live inside someone else's body.

Sam: Yes you can. Remember, babies live in mommies' bellies. So Jesus lives in our hearts.

High on Life

(This post has been edited at Aaron's request. Apparently he doesn't think his recovery room musings were as cute as I did.)

My sweet husband had surgery today. Three hours of someone tugging, sewing, scooping, shaving and repairing all kinds of messed up muscles and bones in his shoulder.

I had a little panic attack about this last night and made him update both of our wills to reflect that we now have a third son. "Why am I doing this again?" he asked. I looked at him as though he had ten heads. To me, it was simple. What if he died in surgery and on my way to identify his body at the hospital, I was in a car crash and I died, too? Surely we needed to update our wills in case that happened.

(Tell me that makes sense to at least one of you out there in blogger land.)

The surgery went great and Aaron was high as a kite in the recovery room. Unfortunately, after we got home, the anesthetic high started to wear off. I gave him his first vicodin and within minutes he was vomiting all of the gatorade, cranberry juice and sprite in his system. To help with that, the doctor changed his prescription to percocet and gave also gave him an Rx for anti-nausea meds.

I read over the drug information for these meds more carefully than normal since these are addictive medicines. Here are two of the "common side effects" of the anti-nausea medicine:

• "unusual bouts of happiness"
• "deep periods of sleep"

I'm thinking I need to get me some of that shoulder surgery.

A Change of Heart

Jack has apparently had a change of heart since he showered me with love on Mother's Day. Today, after I denied him a third popsicle, he told me:

1) "Eat dirt, Mom."

2) "I wish I never met you. I wish I never even was in this family.

Seriously? Eat dirt? Where the heck did that come from?

California Supreme Court Overturns Gay Marriage Ban.

Score one for humanity.

Mom, as seen by my kids

According to Jack
My mom's name is: Sandie
My mom is 38 years old
My mom is pretty as a: Princess
For fun, my mom likes to: play legos with me
If I could I would buy my mom a: lego set
While I'm at school my mom: goes on the computer and plays games
My mom's favorite food is: coffee

(Note to Jack: iphone! If I could I would buy my mom an iphone.)


According to Sam
I love my mom because she:
Makes me feel better when I am sad
Helps me learn
Takes me places
Is kind to me
Talks to me
Cares for me when I am sick
Lets me play on the computer sometimes
Goes to my games
Loves me

Could I love these crazy kids any more?

My kid ratted me out

So I had about 5 errands that I needed to run this morning with Jack and Ben in the car with me. By the 5th errand, I had had it with getting them in and out of their carseats, keeping them contained in the stores, and getting them back in their carseats without incident. (Actually, who am I kidding? There is no such thing as "without incident" with my three schnookers!)

I thought the gods of parking must have been smiling down on me, because when I pulled up to the hair salon to get shampoo, there was a spot right in front of the door. The fact that it was a "no parking" spot did not matter to me because all I was going to do was run in, get my shampoo and run out, while (gasp!) leaving the kids in the car.

Before you get ready to turn me in to DSS, know that the doors to the salon are about 4 feet from my parked car, they are solid, clear glass, and the shampoo and cash register are both directly in front of the door. I am never less than 6 feet from my kids and I can see them clearly the entire time. (Because I am not the type of mom that would, say, leave her kids in the car while she went in to Starbucks to get her fix. No way. Not this mom.)

But do you know that in the less than 2 minutes I am in the store, I see a Parking Enforcer Guy ride up to my car on one of those Segway thingies. I open the door and say, in my most pathetic, begging voice, "I'm right here! I'll be out in one second!" hoping that will persuade him to turn around and leave my car alone. Of course, he didn't care one bit and he gleefully wrote me the ticket and stuck it under my windshield wiper.

Normally I would argue or at least try to change his mind, but this time I just bit my tongue because I knew that if he looked a little closer he would see that on top of parking illegally, I also left my children in the car unattended which, as illegal things go, is REALLY ILLEGAL. So illegal that the fee is $400.

So I just smiled at Mr. Meter Man and accepted the ticket gracefully.

When I got in the car, Jack and Ben were beside themselves. "MOM! Did you see that? The police officer just rode up to our car and put a letter under our wiper? Did you see that? That was so cool!"

I grumbled something about a ticket and thought that was the end of it. What was I thinking?

When we arrived home about 10 minutes later, Jack went SPRINTING into the house. "Daddy, Daddy! Mommy went into the haircut place for shampoo and when she was in there, the police officer came over and gave us a ticket and Ben and I were in the car so we got to see the whole thing!"

Clearly we need to have a talk. What happens with Mommy, stays with Mommy.

There's Something About Benny

I have not been able to stop thinking about my "illogical desire" lately. And it's good that I've been thinking so much about it because I've learned a little something. I am not so sure I want another baby as I want Ben to stay this age forever.

While all of my children are special, there is something SPECIAL about Ben. Ben is a giant bundle of love and goodness. He is gentle and tough, sweet and sinister, sensitive and strong. There is something about the simplicity of his language that is very powerful.

He had tubes put in his ears yesterday, which was this mom's first experience with her children and general anesthesia. By the time we were taken into pre-op, Ben had gone 16 hours without food or drink. His little brain was so very confused about this. And then we watched him evolve from confused to depressed. He was cuddling in my lap and every so often, he'd look up at me with his sweet brown eyes and say, "A-wa?" A few minutes would go by and he'd look up at me again and say, in his soft little voice, "Home?" After a while, he'd just look, with his brow crinkled, and say "Peas?" (Please).

When we finally went to pre-op, Ben was heartbroken over the poking and prodding. I would imagine most kids would get mad about this, but Ben would just cry as though his best friend had moved away. He was so upset about the hospital bracelet being put on that the anesthesiologist said, "As long as he's this upset, let's just put him under right now." So, with my sweet boy in my arms, they covered his face with the anesthesia mask and he fell gently asleep. We moved him to the operating bed and that was the last I saw of him until I caught a glimpse of his little blond mop of hair peaking out from under the blankets on his way to recovery.

When I arrived at recovery, he was still fast asleep. After a bit he opened first one eye, then both eyes, then he looked at my face and said, "Daddy?" I told him that Daddy would be back in a minute. He thought if over and said, "Home?"

I sat him up, he had a popsicle, and off we went.

The thing about Ben is that he is just so sweet. At 2 and a half, he is still very content to be held on my lap, tummy to tummy with his head on my shoulder, to be rocked to sleep, for us to lie in bed for hours looking at books. "See, Mom, see?" he says as he points to the pictures.

The thought of him growing up and growing out of this is just too much for me. I want to freeze him in time. I am not ready to let go.