Mary Bernard

Chris and I are so richly blessed to have loving, supportive, and generous parents. They have given over and again of their time, love, and money to our family. I’m convinced we could not have survived new babies, household emergencies, and automobile catastrophes without them!

Mimi, Papa, Nana, and Papa are a tremendous encouragement to our family. They are “grand” in every sense of the word.

Papa and Mimi (Bill and Linda Bernard) and
Nana and Papa (Frances and Hugh Parker)

Susanna: Mom, why does poo-poo float?
Mom: I really don’t know. I couldn’t answer that. I guess you’d need to ask a doctor to get the right answer.
Susanna: Or Jesus. You could ask Jesus because he made us.

Amen.

I didn’t sleep well at all last night. All of the kids were up and down, about every hour on the hour. We woke up with Seth in our bed and Susanna asleep in the chair in our room. This is really brutal, considering the boys were wide awake and ready to start the day by 4:45. This, in spite of the fact that I KNOW they didn’t sleep well at all.

Anyway—one of the more exciting adventures of the night was with Spencer. He came to our door crying hysterically. I kept trying to figure out what was wrong. So, I just walked him back to bed, tucked him in, pulled up the covers. He was still crying. Please, please don’t wake up Seth.

I was about to crawl into bed with him to snuggle. Then I noticed it.

Oh, no! He’s been abducted by aliens!

His nose was bleeding. Blood was all over his face.

I have very little experience with nosebleeds. I never had them and the other children haven’t had them.

But I am quite familiar with Scully’s plight on the X-Files. Her frequent nosebleeds were the first sign that aliens had abducted her and put some type of cancer-causing chip in her neck.

Anywho, Scully was cured. And Spencer’s nosebleed went away.

And I read in my American Academy of Pediatrics book (at 2 a.m. this morning) about nosebleeds, just to make sure I didn’t need to be really alarmed about something.

Like an alien-placed-cancer-causing chip in Spencer’s neck.

Turns out I didn’t need to.

I just have to say that I DON’T UNDERSTAND AT ALL why our taxpayer dollars are going to assist television owners with upgrading their rabbit ear TVs to the brand-spanking new digital cable. (Unless I’m completely off-base, I am assuming that tax dollars allocated to some branch of the FCC will cover the cost of converter box coupons. I have not read or heard anything about the money coming from some other source.)

I think those TV ads are crazy. “Don’t worry. If you are impoverished and struggling to make ends meet and can’t afford a new digital TV with digital everything service, then by golly, we are going to make it easy for you. We—ahem, the taxpayers of this country—are going to get you what you need. Maybe you can’t feed your kids or pay your electric bill, but you’ll have crystal clear television to view!”

Here’s what the government program website has to say about the cost of converter boxes:

When TV converter boxes are available, retail stores will set the price. TV converter boxes are expected to cost between $50 and $70. The Federal Government permits each U.S. household up to two $40 coupons to help pay for the cost of the converter box. After applying for the coupon, participating retailers will charge the consumers the remaining balance between $10 and $30.

It’s not that I’m opposed to groups, whether it be para-church organizations, the Church, or the government, helping those in need. I am opposed to robbing from those in need to give cable TV (or any TV, for that matter) to the less fortunate. The last time I checked, television is in the entertainment category. It’s optional. A luxury. I.e., not a necessity. Not an $80/household necessity.

Food banks in our area are struggling right now to keep up with the demand. Hmmmm…. I’d rather have my TV “coupon” money buying a case of mac-n-cheese for my city’s food bank. Just a thought.

Since I know that children somewhere are starving … as they watch their government-provided digital TV.

On July 20, I got the boys’ closet cleaned out to get ready to install their new closet organizing system.

Oh, wait. Let me back up. I actually purchased the closet system LAST YEAR. That’s right. I got it in May 2007. It’s just taken me this long to begin the installation process. (I’m not going to mention how no one in my family is as excited about closet organization as I and is, therefore, not motivated much at all to prioritize cleaning out closets.)

OK. So back to the home improvement.

I cleaned out the closet last week. Then decided that before I install the closet organizer, I really need to paint the closet. This of course meant I had to decide paint colors, get the paint, patch all the holes in the wall, tape the edges, then paint.

So, this week, I got all of that done! Woohoo! Yippee!

Except that I ran out of paint. So, I have a kinda-sorta-painted-and-splotchy closet. And since I have to drive all the way to Belle Meade to get the type of paint that I want (Benjamin Moore Aura), it’s really quite a jaunt. And since I have three kids who are uber-fascinated with anything the least bit out of the ordinary (like, I don’t know, making the walls a new color), there’s no way in you-know-where that I would attempt any further work on this project until they are out of the house.

I really don’t know when I’ll get this done. It helps that I’m an extremely patient person and really do enjoy the process of it all. Considering the boys have one more week of preschool then don’t return until after Labor Day, I’m thinking it may be St. Patrick’s Day before the room is all finished. (By the way, I have grandiose creative ideas for their room. I’ll keep you posted how that goes and post pictures, of course.)

I’d love you to vote in my poll. When do YOU think I’ll get the boys’ room done?

Why does life have to be so complicated?

So, the van did get cleaned out (I know you all were waiting with bated breath to hear about what gross things I uncovered under the piles of trash), and as far as I know I didn’t contract any disease or anything.

But I was really kind of forced into it because the van had to be TOWED away this morning.

Seems the transmission is about to go. We think.

We are so blessed that my dad knows every mechanic that undercharges for services within a 50-mile radius. So, we do what it takes to get our vehicles to Bedford county for repairs. This, of course, also comes with my dad’s watchful eye, which is always helpful.

So, today, Daddy and Ray (the tow-truck guy who is also my sister’s neighbor) came and got the van.

Mama and Daddy were so very, very gracious to loan us their GIGANTIC-I -feel-that-I-need-to-be-playing-shuffleboard-and-hitting-the-early-bird-specials-at-the- senior-citizens-center Ford Mercury. Not that my parents have ever played shuffleboard or eaten an early bird special, much less attended any event with a “senior citizen” label. But still. This car is huge and really does scream, “old retired people with lots of money.”

I took the kids out for a spin this afternoon. They really enjoyed it, once they stopped fighting and I threatened to go home. “Will you PUH-LEEZE stop fighting and be quiet and just listen to the music on the radio? Can we do that?” (Do I really have 15+ years of this left????)

We went to the pharmacy, bank, and Sonic for slushies. I liked having the cold air blowing in my face, singing along to 80’s favorites on the radio, and not having to get anyone out of the car.

I (heart) the Mercury.

Yesterday I called my friend Jennifer. The first thing she said was, “You got your home phone fixed!”

At first I was a little bit confused.

“Did I tell you all about that… or?”

“No, I read about it on your blog.” (Horrible, frustrating ordeal with our phone service.)

Chris laughs at me because I know all these random facts about our friends either from reading their blogs or their status updates on Facebook. I love it! I can keep up with people. With three young kids, I can’t complete a phone conversation unless I lock myself in my room. But I can skim a blog post or someone’s Facebook profile—while I’m screaming at someone to stop doing whatever he or she is doing.

I think it’s time to clean out my van.

Last week we uncovered Spencer’s missing toothbrush from under the middle seat.

I’m not sure at all how it got there.

Yesterday, I decided to pop a piece of Melaleuca gum in my mouth. It had been lingering in the passenger seat for a few days in 90+degree heat. It is really good gum. I thought nothing of chewing it, despite its questionable storage for the last few days.

At first, the mushy meltedness kind of mixed with the spearmint to give me a little jolt of refreshing. I was pleasantly surprised.

Then about 5 minutes into the chewing, it started disintegrating in my mouth. It went from a tangible substance to … nothing. Nothing at all. What an odd feeling to be chewing something and then chewing nothing. It turned into gross, white liquidy gunk.

Thankfully, I had plenty of scraps of paper littering the van to spit my former gum into.

Anyway, let’s see, right now my van is home to various discarded and forgotten items. Besides stray gum pieces and shreds of paper, you’ll find:

• crumbs of Goldfish crackers, graham crackers, cereal bars. I remember one time last year Chris asked me something along the lines of… “So, do you just give them big cups of Goldfish to eat in the car or what?” as he stared at the broken bits of little orange crackers all over the seats and floor. My response was, “Yes. Yes. That’s exactly what I do.” And your point is…? The last time I checked Chris has never fed, dressed, packed bags and lunches for 3, loaded, buckled, driven and deposited all 3 anywhere. Trust me, you do what you need to do. Be it spilled Goldfish or whatever.
• books: children’s books, a phone book, a map book, a children’s Bible
• a wooden kitchen spoon
• umbrellas: adult-size and My Little Pony
• a Strawberry Shortcake sleeping bag
• jumper cables
• banking receipts and kids’ artwork and junk mail
• sucker sticks
• hot pink winter boots
• a teddy bear
• a Bed, Bath, and Beyond coupon for 20% off
• four car seats (I only have 3 kids)

I think my van is probably an accurate picture of how my brain feels most of the time: scattered, misplaced, always prepared, if not a little overwhelmed.

I have personally never fully grasped those people who truly love their vehicles. I don’t have a “dream car,” but I do lust after those vans with doors that open on both sides.

I appreciate my van. I love what it does for me. I love that I have it and it serves me well. But at the end of the day, it is a machine that gets me from Point A to Point B.

I’m really content with my ride as long as it accomplishes this simple task. And has enough room to take all of our junk, too.

Seth’s signature comment these days is, “I so tired.” Picture if you will the drooping head, the slumped shoulders for dramatic effect. Hear the exhalation on the word, “tired.” See the shuffle of the feet.

I know exactly how he feels.

No matter what I’m trying to accomplish, I’ve realized it requires a great deal of energy and hard work. “I so tired.”

I wish I had more of the temperament of my husband. Chris is a very linear person. He tackles life day to day. He approaches tasks and goals based on reality and energy level. I don’t sense that he ever seems overwhelmed. Should he become overwhelmed, then he just knocks something off his “to-do” list. Very practical.

I, on the other hand, continually add to my list. I’m so circular that I’m global. I don’t feel productive unless I’m working on one project and have at least 15 others to go. This works OK until I just kinda crash and burn from all the spinning wheels when I, too, say, “I so tired.”

So, lately, I’m tired from:

• trying to lose weight and stick to a new diet plan
• trying to save a gajillion dollars every week at the grocery store by playing The Grocery Game, clipping coupons, and strategically planning meals that are inexpensive, easy, and healthy (impossible!)
• trying to make a gajillion dollars by working my Melaleuca business and writing
• trying to wrangle 3 kids who are bored
• trying to keep a house running (you know: food, laundry, stains on the carpet, and so on—never-ending)
• dealing with the mental anguish of not having started all those projects I had high hopes of completing this summer

OK. Now it’s time for a nap.