Christmas At The Coffee House

     I woke up Christmas morning before daylight, so I could monitor the present opening.  

     Every year I know that if anyone  rolls out of bed before mom, we'll miss all the excitement.  

     One of the first things I found was a note to "The Coffees" from Santa on the stool where we left his chocolate chip cookies and milk.

     

 

     As busy as ole' St. Nick is, he still took the time to stop and visit me at work and leave us a note saying thank you for the cookies.

     I found it rather odd that Santas writing looked identical to my oldest son, Daymonds.  But I just dismissed this as a crazy coincidence and went on with my morning.

     Before long the sleepy eyed little monsters started making their way down the stairs one at a time.

     Let the somewhat organized chaos begin!

     As I sat there and watched the boys open their video games and the girls their Barbie dolls, I started thinking about Christmas's when I was a kid.

     Every year until I turned about 14, my big brother Tim and me, always slept in the same bed on Christmas eve.  It's just too exciting not to share it with someone!

     He always built a wall between us out of pillows and he only had one rule.  "You stay on your side and I'll stay on mine."  

     He was scared to death I would touch him.  Eeewwww!  But even more afraid that I would pee on him.  I had a slight problem with bedwetting.  (You'll all be glad to know that I finally got control of my bladder issues).

     There were times that we would be in bed by 8:00 because time goes by a lot faster when you're sleeping.  We talked and talked (mostly I talked) until Tim would finally tell me to "SHUT UP and GO TO SLEEP!"

     Growing up in the Zimmerman household, we had one major Christmas rule.

Rule:  NEVER pick up, pat, stare at closely, or guess what may be in that big box that says, To: Jenny, on it. 

     

     If we ever did happen to guess, Dad flipped out!  He hated it when we knew what we were getting and the surprise was ruined.  I see myself carrying on that trait.  I absolutely hate it when the kids guess what their gifts are.  

     While watching the ripped paper fly through the air and the kids showing each other what they got, I started reminiscing.

     Every year for about 12 years, my best friend Dawn and I would call each other as soon as our last gift was opened.  We just had to share our excitement.

     It's so funny because its been about 15 years since we've done that but I still catch myself thinking, "I wonder what Dawn got this year."  

       For some reason, the only gift that really sticks out in my head from my childhood is this horribly ugly, blue, sweatshirt.  With a cat appliqué on the front if it!  Of all things.  A cat!  I'm not even a cat person!

     What was my mom doing?  Trying to get me beat up?!  I already had a mullet.  She might as well have stuck a sign on my forehead that said "Punch me...HARD."

     That's the only gift I remember getting that I hated.  But for some reason, that's the only gift I remember getting...EVER!

     So I now know, as a mom NOT to get my kids ugly sweatshirts, and not to give them mullets!  Because they'll never forget it!  Thanks again Mom.

     Hope you all had a very Merry Christmas!

     Happy New Year!

    

The Boy Who Cried Concussion

     Anytime somebody in my house starts crying, My first reaction is always, "What did Devin do this time?" 

     A few nights ago we were all relaxing, watching Duck Dynasty re-runs.  And I heard a loud THUMP.  Then Dustin started screaming bloody murder!  The bedroom door flung open and in runs Devin.  "I didn't mean to hurt him!  We were just playing!"  Devin's always "just playing."

     Still in the bedroom, Dustin is screaming, "OH MY GOSH!  OH MY GOSH!  My head!!!"  

     I've learned by this point in motherhood not to panic. More than likely he's overreacting.  

     I went to check on the injured.  He was thrashing around in the floor, holding the back if his head, screaming.  

     I made him get up.  By the way he was acting, I was just sure he was bleeding profusely.  

     I was a little afraid to look.  But upon further inspection I found no blood, no knot, no cut, NOTHING!

     The story I got was this;  Devin and Dustin were not wrestling!  They were just playing but Devin doesn't know how to play without breaking something.  Wether it be a lightbulb, a plate, or his brothers head.  Something will get broke.

     I have always discouraged the boys from watching WWE.  For one, I think it's ridiculously stupid!  Two, no matter what boys watch, they think they need to play it.

     When Jimmy, my little brother was small, no matter what he watched on t.v., he "played to it."  

     Power Rangers, Dukes of Hazzard, Rugrats.  Didn't matter what it was.  He just had to play to it!  Thank God he didn't watch Americas Next Top Model!

     At one point our dad threatened to make him stop watching Power Rangers altogether because we were all sick of him kicking, punching, and karate chopping everyone in his path.

     So, the boys know that wrestling is NOT allowed at our house!  Which is really too bad.  Because wrestling is a blast.  But my boys don't know how to do it without causing serious bodily harm to one another.  

     After the incident with Dustin's head and the wall, I separated them and told them to "stay away from each other!"  Time out for unnecessary roughness.

Devins defense was, "He pushed me first." The truth comes out.  Wow!

     Dustin laid down on the couch and started to dose off.  He was complaining of being dizzy and light headed.  So Curtis told him he better not go to sleep.  Ya know, just incase he wasn't overreacting.

      For the next hour, every time Dustin got up, he stumbled all over the place and his eyes went a little crazy and he kept saying really strange things and crying hysterically.

     Daymond and Devin were very entertained by this Dustin.  

     After the 5th time of them laughing at him and him bursting into tears, I finally told him to just go to bed with me.  They couldn't bother him in there.

     So, we went to bed.  He lifted his head up once in a while, look around kinda goofy eyed, then layed back down.  He finally went to sleep.  I woke up a few times during the night and checked on him.  He was still breathing.

     The next morning he claimed that he didn't remember anything from the night before.  

     I finally said, "Dustin, look at me!  Why were you faking last night?  I know you remember."

     He lost it.  Died laughing and fessed up.  Yes, it hurt.  But maybe he had laid the act on a little thick.

     When I ask him why he would do that.  He just smiled, shrugged, and walked away.

      Me, being the good mom that I am, told him that liars go to hell and eternity was a very long time to spend with Devin.  Not really!  But I might use that next time.  Because I assure you, there will be a next time. 

     I did try explaining to him that if he was ever seriously hurt, we wouldn't know wether to take him to the emergency room or push him into a corner and ignore him.  

     I have learned that no matter how well you think you've raise your kids.  They're still going to mess up.  

     Wether it be a lie, stealing a candy bar when their 4 years old, spray painting the side of the house, or texting a potty word and denying it for a year.  (Yep...all Dustin) They WILL mess up!

     Guess I better go see what today holds.  Wish me luck;)

     By the way, Dustin's getting a copy of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" for Christmas.

     

     

Confessions Of A Wahlberg Addict

     My name is Jenny.  I will be 34 years old on the 27th of December.  I am a child of God, a wife to Curtis, a mother of 5, and I suffer from an unhealthy obsession with Donnie Wahlberg.   

     The obsession began in 1989.  I was nine years old and my mom bought me the "Hangin' Tough" concert on VHS tape.  I watched and watched and re-watched that video until it was completely worn out and had to be replaced.

     That was 24 years and 3 video tapes ago.  

     My friends and I all had our favorite "New Kid." Amanda liked Jordan, Crystal liked Joey....but me?  I LOVED Donnie!  

     I loved that when all the others were dressed like your normal, everyday guy.  Donnie had holes in his jeans and wore a t-shirt that said, "Drugs Suck."

     I loved that while the rest of the band was singing and in the middle of their choreographed routine, Donnie was off by himself dancing, kissing girls in the audience, and making little girls feel like the only person in the room.

     I'm almost certain that it's all D-Dubs fault that I developed "a thing" for bad boys.  

     As my parents worried about this newfound fetish, I made it my goal to collect every magazine, pencil, ink pen, notebook, t-shirt, nightgown, poster.....that I could find with a picture of Donnie's face on it.

     My daddy did NOT approve!  I was raised in a conservative, Christian home. By a Southern Baptist preacher.  He said that "filth" didn't need to be in our house.

     So, from 9-5, while dad was at work, I was rockin' out to some NKOTB.  Mom always allowed it.  I now know, that it was because I came by my love for bad boys honestly.  I think she enjoyed it almost as much as I did.

     In 1994 when the boy band decided to part ways I, along with a million other "sisters" slipped into a deep depression. 

     In time the sadness faded, new boy bands came along, but one thing never changed.  I <3 Donnie!

     I watched his movies, continued to buy NKOTB cd's, watched my Hangin' Tough video, and longed for the day that they would reunite.

     It finally happened!  In 2008 they released a new album, "The Block."  Oh...My...Gosh!!!  

     If my dad heard this, he surely wouldn't approve.  But I was 28 years old and it didn't matter.

     Of course there was a lot of negativity surrounding their comeback.   "They won't do any good."  "This album will crash."  "They're too old to start again."  Blah blah blah!  But I knew better.

      The obsession grew!  My husband was so supportive of my Wahlberg addiction, that he made it possible for me to see NKOTB in concert this year.  

     When planning and getting ready for the concert, I was just certain that when Donnie layed eyes on me, this girl that had loved him for 25 years, he would instantly feel the sparks!  

     The concert was amazing!  I was a little, okay a lot depressed when it ended.    I went back home to my 5 children, my non singing/dancing husband, my 3 foot high pile of laundry, and sink full of dirty dishes.

     I've been on a mission since that day to get @DonnieWahlberg to follow me, @JenRCoffee on twitter.   

     I feel like, I've devoted almost 25 years of my life to this man.  The least he can do is click "follow."  

     So starting today, with your help, it's GOING to happen!  If you're on twitter, tweet a link  to this blog (www.chaoticcoffees.blogspot.com) to @DonnieWahlberg and title it "Confessions of a Wahlberg Addict." 

     Thanks so much for your help.  I'll keep you informed:)

     

     

Before Pinterest There Was Martha Stewart

     As I sit here cuddled up with my blanket by the fire place, sipping my pumpkin spice coffee, watching The Today Show, (sounds like a Christmas commercial, huh?) a thought crosses my mind.  How did I survive in this world before I discovered Martha Stewart?

     I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Martha Stewart is the Dr. Phil of home decor, cooking, and crafts.  Yes.  She's that good!  They should have a show together.  Just imagine, "She'll clean up your home while He cleans up your act."  Oh, consider the possibilities!

     I've learned so many things from Martha over the years that I feel like it would be a great disservice to her and to all of you if I didn't share some of those things.  So, here we go.

    I struggled for countless hours with the dreaded fitted sheet.  I finally got to the point that I would just, fold, fold, roll, roll, roll.  Then stick the fitted sheet behind the nice, pretty, flat sheet on the shelf.  Until...one day several years ago Martha done a whole segment on "How to fold the fitted sheet."  Oh...My...Wow!  I'm positive that I could now teach a class on folding fitted sheets and probably, no definitely be nominated teacher of the year!  Who knew?  Martha, that's who!

     Unless you're a penny pincher like me, this one probably won't be of much use.  But this is one I've shared with some of my friends over the years.  Did you know that when using fabric sheets in your dryer that half a sheet works just as well as a whole one?  Nope?  Neither did I until I heard it on The Martha Stewart Show.  So, rather than buying cheap, store brand dryer sheets that don't smell very good, cut your Bounce or Snuggle sheets in half.  Make them last twice as long and if you want to look at it this way, they're half price!

     We don't go on many vacations or weekend getaways but when we do, I learned a way to pack that saves room and keeps our clothes wrinkle free.  This is the easiest way for me with a big family and limited luggage.

     Pick out your outfit.  Example: Pants, dress shirt, under shirt, underwear, and socks.  Lay your pants out.  Fold in half length wise, then shirt, undershirt, undies and socks.  Starting with the end of your pants, roll whole outfit up in a tight roll.  This makes them easy to pack, saves room, and keeps them from wrinkling.  Do this for each day you'll be gone.  Then getting ready in the morning is easy.  You just reach in, grab a roll per day, and go.

     When I'm packing for my kids my O.C.D. kicks into high gear and I put post-it notes on the outside of each roll with the days of the week on them.  This helps prevent any unwanted chaos.  Lord knows we don't need anymore of that!  Side note:  Curtis loves it when I coordinate our outfits to match for the entire trip.  (hint the sarcasm)  He loves it even more when I refer to his clothes as "outfits."

     Okay, you all know I love to bake.  A lot if recipes call for "sifted flour."  So, I went to Walmart and bought the cheapest sifter I could find.  There's a reason it was so cheap.  It only worked for about five minutes.  Martha taught me that you don't have to have a sifter.  Just put your dry ingredients in a bowl and stir  them together with a wire wisk.  So easy.  Lumps gone.  Voila!

     Last but most certainly not least.  When baking a cake and the directions say to flour your pan to keep the cake from sticking, use cocoa powder instead of flour for chocolate cakes.  This will keep your pretty chocolate cake from getting all white!

     Before Pinterest there was Martha Stewart!  She has taught me so many things and the ones I've shared with you are just a few of my favorites.  But the most important thing she's taught me?

Never cheat the system.  And black an white stripes are only cute if they're in zebra print! 

Snow Day!!!

     No matter how old I am, when I get that phone call from the school or see our schools name scroll across the bottom of the television screen, the little girl inside of me screams with excitement!

     We lived in town, behind the Skyline Cafe, until I turned twelve years old.   Anytime somebody wanted to know where we lived, Mom or Dad just said, "Right behind the ole' Skyline."  Everybody knew where it was.  

     The minute it would start spitting snow, my brother Tim and me drove our mom crazy!  "Have they cancelled yet?"  "Can Dawn spend the night?"  "Let's build a snowman!" 

     As we watched the news and waited for the cancellations, the excitement built.  "Fordland cancelled.  Yes!  Oh, there's Mansfield.  If they aren't having school, neither will we." Salem, Sarcoxie,......SEYMOUR RII SCHOOLS!  Woo hoo!!'

     Every year without fail on our first snow day Mom just had to go "check" the roads.  So, after Dad was off to work, Mom, Tim, and Me (Jimmy wasn't born yet) loaded up in the single cab truck and went out for a drive.

     I soon learned that every road lead back to the highschool parking lot.  And that "checking the roads" really meant, being the first to cut cookies in the freshly fallen snow in the parking lot.

     Thinking back on it, at a very young age I was the voice of reason.  While we were spinning out of control, I was rolled up in a ball saying, "What if the cops come?  What if we go off the parking lot and hit the light poll?  If Dad finds out you're in sooo much trouble!"  

     During my moment of panic, Mom and Tim were laughing histerically!   

     Well, the cops never came.  Luckily we never hit the light poll.  And if dad indeed found out, Mom must not have gotten into too much trouble.

     During my 6th grade year, we moved to our farm on BB Highway.  Dad called it "The old home place."  That's where my grandparents raised him and his 11 siblings.

     We had not enjoyed a snow day until we experienced our first one on the farm.  We were surrounded by wide open space and huge hills!...Sledding hills!

     I believe it was our first winter there that Dad built us a wooden sled for Christmas.  It looked just like one that you would see in the movies.  It even had a rope in the front to steer it with.  He painted it cherry red.  The only bad thing about it?  It weighed a million pounds!  

Okay, maybe 30 or 40 pounds.  But that's really heavy for a scrawny little girl.  So, Tim had the job of dragging it up the hill over and over and over.

     We spent, what seemed like forever preparing for our sledding trip.  First we put on long johns, then came the sweat pants, then coveralls.  Two pairs of socks, rubber boots, stocking caps, and more socks on our hands for gloves.

     We had a blast!  And we knew it was time to go back to the house when we could no longer feel our feet and our sock gloves were frozen solid.

     Mom always had blankets warming in the dryer for us and Dad could build a hotter fire in our wood stove than any other dad in the world!

     I loved wrapping up in that staticky, brown and white striped blanket, and standing in front of the wood stove that was so hot it almost hurt, until my extremities were thawed out.

     So....today's the first snow day of the winter.  I woke up to about five inches on the ground and five very excited kiddo's.  

     They're scattered throughout the house.  Each doing their own thing.  

     Daymond's in the bedroom playing X-Box.  Devin is sitting beside me watching t.v.  Dustin's in the bedroom with Daymond.  Dani's tormenting the dogs.  And Dakotah is probably in the bathroom making some kind of mess.   While I just sit here, lost in the past.  

     I love my family and having lots of kids was always my dream. But what I wouldn't give to go back in time.  

     Just for one last snow day:)

     

      

The Things Nobody Tells You

     When I dreamed about having baby's I always thought of the pretty way they smell right after their evening bath.  How soft and kissable their little pudgy hands are.  How they cuddle and coo and look at you with such adoration at such an early age.

     Then when I thought on into their toddler years I couldn't wait to coax them into saying their first words, teach them to count (one, two, free), blow kisses, pat-a-cake...You know?  All of that adorable, important stuff that would keep the grandparents and aunts and uncles entertained for hours.

     A few years down the road would be the start of elementary school.  Oh what fun!  Cute clothes!  School programs!  Field trips!  Birthday party's.  The fun never ends.

     It would just get bigger and better from there.  

     Middle School was awesome for me!!!  I couldn't wait to go through those years with my kids!

     Basketball, baseball, football, track, cheerleading...Hanging out with friends.  Going to church.  Spending time with family....

     Ya know what?  All of those things are great!  And when discussing parenthood with friends, it seems that those are the events they tell you about.  

     I've had to learn the hard way, that there are sooo many other things that nobody bothered to tell me!  A little heads up would've been nice people!

     So that's why I'm here.  News flash!  It's not all bows and ribbons, cuddles and kisses, smiles and laughs.  

     Those commercials you see on t.v. with the perfect little family?  Mommy smiling at daddy adoringly, kiddos dressed in their nice, clean, suits and dresses.  Well behaved dog laying in front of the fire place (not pooping in the floor).  IT'S A HOAX!!!  

     The little brats are probably bribed with candy and trips to Disney Land to be good for the 30 second commercial!  And the dog?  I'm almost certain it's either stuffed or sedated until the job is done.

     I got my first reality check when Daymond was a baby. He was NOT a good sleeper so I decided an evening bath ritual would help.  So every evening, he got a bath in lavender baby bath, then rubbed down with baby lotion.  Ahh...he smelled so yummy.  For about 15 minutes!

      I'm not sure how Daymond grew to be as big as he is because I swear every time he had a bottle, it immediately came out one of the holes in his tiny little body. Ugh...The things nobody tells you.

     Daymond was 8 months old when I got pregnant with Devin.  By the end of my pregnancy, he was starting to talk pretty well.  

     I'll never forget trying to make little 16 month old Daymond, understand that he was going to have a new baby brother.  I must have mentioned the baby to him one too many times, because one day he pulled back his fist, and with the most evil look on his face said, "I kill you baby."

     My mom laughed!  Curtis laughed!  My dad laughed!  I was 8 months pregnant.  I did not laugh!  

     I took this as a sign.  He is going to hate this baby!  Oh my gosh, my sweet little Daymond is going to kill his baby brother!  I cried and cried.  I may have been a tad bit hormonal because looking back on it, it's a little funny.  Oh my...The things nobody tells you.

     Potty training Devin is a feat I was just sure I would never accomplish.  Daymond was a breeze.  I assumed they would all be the same.  Wrong!!!

     When I gave birth to my second child, Devin Ray Coffee.  I gave birth to the most disgusting child that would ever grace this earth.  

     When he was about 2 1/2 not only did he hide in the closet to poop, he also took his diaper off to do it.  Then said, "Stretch did it!"  Stretch was our wiener dog. Smart enough to blame the dog.  But not smart enough to poop in the potty.  Hmmm....I should've seen it coming right then.

     One day, after coming out of the closet (haha), Devin was naked and holding his hands up with what looked like chocolate pudding all over them.  I mean ALL over them!  I said, "Devin, don't touch anything!" 

     It seemed like everything started happening in slow motion.  I dropped what I was doing.  Ran toward him and just as I got to him, he smiled and stuck his hand in his mouth!  Yep.  He really did.  And not just for a second.  He sucked his fingers clean. 

     I was yelling, gagging, telling him to stoooooppppp!!!  While he stood there naked, smiling, with brown mush all around his mouth.  

     After Devin was cleaned up.  And his finger painting that I discovered in the other room was washed away.  Again, I cried and cried.  

     This time it wasn't hormones.  I was just devastated because I realized that I had a nasty, disgusting, abnormal child!  And that although I loved him with all my heart, wasn't quite sure how to deal with him.  Gag!...The things nobody tells you.

      Daymond was in pre-school the first, and hopefully only time he will ever have the cops called on him.   All of those cute little 4 and 5 year olds were lined up in the old rock building, waiting to go out to recess.  And Daymond was very curious about the little red handle on the wall.  So, he done what any other 5 year old would do.  He pulled it!

      He set off the alarms.  They had to evacuate the whole building.  The fire fighters came.  The police came.  Daymond  got "the talk" about that being for emergencies only.   I always hoped that when there was a story in the local paper about my kids it would be about something good that they had done.  Oops!...The things nobody tells you.

      I could probably write a book about these things that come as a total shock to you as a parent.  The very unexpected things that our innocent children do.  

     Like the first time Daymond, almost 3 at the time, saw someone of a different color.  He pointed right in their face, about 2 feet away and said, "Mommy, what color is that man?"

     Or the time Daymonds Sunday School teacher, Tina Terry asked the class if anyone had a song that they wanted to sing.  And Daymond raised his hand and requested, "She Thinks My Tractors Sexy."  NOT one of my prouder moments.

     Or when Devin was 4-ish and he was very shy.  When someone would talk to him in public.  Instead of responding with a smile or not responding at all.  He hissed like a cat.  Oh my gosh!  I have "the weird kid" that nobody wants to see coming!

     I didn't even know how to apologize for his behavior.  "I'm so sorry.  My kitty's having a bad day."  Oh my....The things nobody tells you.

     There's always the time that Devin peed in a Mt. Dew bottle and told 3 year old Dustin to drink it....and he did!

     Or when sweet little Gracie Ogle told Devin his hair cut was cute and it embarrassed him so he blurted out, "I think you're ugly!" I was just glad he learned to use his words instead of hissing!  Yaaay!

     Or the night I woke up to the sound of liquid running and one of my boys, I won't name names, was sleep walking and came into my bedroom and peed in my rocking chair. Because it looks like a toilet!?  Who knows?

     I haven't even started on the girls.  I caught Dani, 7 kissing our little neighbor boy, 5 through the fence in the back yard.  Who knew?  Oh yeah, I did.  But I want my kids to be different.  

     They're so curious at such an early age.  Dr. Phil says its "normal" and "natural."  I say it's creepy!...The things nobody tells you.

      I'm just giving some insight to those of you who are just starting down this path in life.

     Never ever say, "My kid will NEVER do this or that" because, mark my words.  They will poop, finger paint, then eat the leftovers!

     

     

    

     

The Coffee Filter

     We recently had Direct TV installed and I'm absolutely loving this DVR.  With a house full of kids there is nothing better than being able to pause, rewind, and fast forward live t.v.  With all of the advances in technology I've seen in my 33 years, I'm thinking that it's possible that in my future, I'll see the ability to pause, rewind, and replay my mouth.  What a concept!  I'm sure I'm not the only one in my family that feels this would be a great invention.

     While I view my being outgoing, honest, quirky, and somewhat off color sense of humor as being "good" parts of my personality.  I've been told that it wouldn't hurt to "reel it in a notch or two."  It can come across as a "little much."  And some people may not know how to "take me."

     There's a slight problem.  This is who I am.  I don't know how to be any other way.  For as long as I can remember, all of my friends have said,"if you want to know the truth, just ask Jenny."  I pride myself on that.  I don't tell the truth because it's mean or because it's the ugly thing to do.  I tell the truth because that's what I've been taught to do.  Problem is, sometimes I tell the truth when nobody ask for it.  Come to find out, that's not okay.

 

   I sit here thinking about all the times the "Coffee Filter" would've came in handy.  (That's what I would call the DVR for my mouth.  Pretty clever, huh?)  There are really too many times to count.  From the embarrassing, stupid things I've said, that I sooo wish I could take back and will never live down.  To the hurtful, mean things that I've said to the people that I love.  That although they may have been true, didn't always need to be said out loud.  To the extremely inappropriate jokes I've made in awkward silences to complete strangers.  Why?  Because that's just what I do.

     Where do I begin?  Might as well go back to my first recollection of my idiotic behavior:

     The year was 1998.  I was 18 years old.  A group of friends and myself went to the theatre to see the new Titanic movie.  We were all so excited!  That was a long time ago.  But as best as I can remember, we stood in line for at least an hour, maybe a little longer.  We were getting ready to give our tickets to the lady when a teenage boy ran out of the theatre and yelled, "Let me ruin it for ya.  The ship sinks!"  Everybody laughed, except me.  I didn't find any humor in it at all!  I...WAS...TICKED!!!  I said, "seriously?  Thanks a lot!"  I went on and on about how long we had stood in line and now we knew how the movie ended.

     Um...apparently I slept through that day in history class.  Or I was writing notes to friends or something.  Because I swear I had never heard of the Titanic in my life!  

     That story has given a lot of people laughs over the years.  At first whenever somebody brought it up, I almost cried.  It was so humiliating.  People that I had never met in my life would come up to me in public and say, "Seen any good movies lately?"  Good one.  Now, go pick on somebody your own size.

     Fast forward several years.  Curtis and I were visiting with some friends.  We were discussing the president, which was George W. Bush at the time, and his wife and their twin daughters Barbara and Jenna.  I made the comment that I never understood why someone would have twins and give one of them a really cute name, like Jenna, and the other one such a plain, boring name, like Barbara.

     We were eating.  And in between bites I glanced around the table and noticed that everyone was looking at me kinda funny.  Nothing registered and I kept talking.  I said, "I know Jenna is a lot like Jenny so I don't mean to sound conceited.  It's just a really cute name.  But Barbara?  Really?  It's an old lady name!  Can you imagine looking at a tiny baby and saying, "awwww, come here Barbara.  Goo goo gaa gaa!"

     I glanced around again and they all had their mouths hanging open, looking at me so strange.  Then I looked at Curtis and he was giving me that, "You're doing it again" look.  Then it hit me.  We were having dinner with Jerry and BARBARA!

     How could I dig myself out of this one?  I couldn't.  So I didn't even try.  For once, I just apologized and shut up.  

     I know my face must've been 10 shades of red but not quite as red as Curtis's.  I just then started to realize why Curtis liked to spend so much time at home.  I can't say that I blame him.  So, if you want to know what I think of your name, just ask me.  I'll tell ya!

     Working at McDonald's has been so good for me.  It's gotten me out and about amongst other adults and given me a chance to mix and mingle with people that otherwise, I would've never met.  I really enjoy it. 

     A few nights ago a man came in and ordered a Bacon Buffalo McChicken.  I told him his total was $2.16.  He said, "$2.00?  Man!  That's an expensive sandwich!"  I told him anything with bacon on it's going to be more pricey.  I ask him if he'd bought bacon lately and went on to tell him how expensive it is.

     He said "No." He hadn't bought any.  He'd been in jail.  "The only pig he'd seen were the cops."  Hmmm...that's nice.

     He changed his order to a regular $1.00 McChicken.  I put his sandwich in a bag.  And with a smile on my face said, "Enjoy your sandwich...and your freedom."  As an after thought, I yelled after him, "but not your bacon." He turned around and smiled and said, "Have a great night!"

     The working manager thought It was funny.  I was just glad the ex-con had a good sense  humor.

     I think I saved my favorite for last.  I can't handle silence.  Most people will talk about the weather, sports, their kids, etc...I'll just say the first random thing that pops into my head.  NOT always, or even usually, a good idea.

     One day last summer I was just getting home and noticed a middle aged man walking down the sidewalk, using a walker.  I thought it was so sad.  He was walking pretty slow and it was obvious it wasn't an injury.  He was crippled.  

     Then I noticed that the boys had left their homemade ramp in the middle of the sidewalk from the night before.  A couple of concrete blocks and a piece of plywood.  So I sat my groceries down on the porch and ran out there to move the things out if his way.

     I moved them, and said, "Have a good day."  Okay okay.  I wish that's what I had said.

     I started to move them.  And said, "Let me get these out of your way."  Then I had a better thought.  So...I put them back down and said, "Unless...you want to back up and ramp it?!"  I no more than had the words out of my mouth than I thought, Jenny, what in the world is wrong with you?  Who says things like that?

     Luckily it was well received.  He decided to pass on the stunt.  But said if he was gonna do it, he'd hafta get a better run at it.

     I kept this from Curtis for several days.  I get tired of "the look."  And boy did I get it when he finally found out.  Oh well, what do ya do?

     At the end of the day, I'm not perfect. Who knew?  

     Thank God, He's still workin' on me!

Say Cheese!

     Oh the dreaded picture day.  I can't count the times I've left the Sears Portrait Studio in tears.  Curtis dragging his feet and rolling his eyes behind me saying, "I just don't understand what the big deal is.  It's just pictures."  Just pictures?  Did he really just say that out loud?  Men are so brain dead sometimes.

     Mommy's spend weeks planning the perfect outfits.  Then days planning around colds, nap times, bruises, and bad moods.  And hours fixing hair and keeping little boys out of mud puddles...just to get that perfect picture.  THAT'S what "the big deal is!"

     The last time we had pictures done of all of the kids, Dani and Dakotah weren't even born yet.  Considering Dani is seven and Dakotah is four, we decided it was time!

     With six kids, you don't spend months and weeks planning.  We decided on a Saturday afternoon that we would take the pictures the next day. 

    I decided on black & white.  That would be easy enough.  I went through everyone's closets and found them a black or a white shirt and jeans. I stressed over and over.  "This is what you will wear to church.  Then right after church we'll take pictures.  DO NOT GET DIRTY!"

     Dustin, nine hated the shirt I gave him to wear.  It was "sooo retarded looking."  I told him to get over it and went on getting everyone else ready. 

     Church starts at 10:00.  At 9:40 I was still running around in my pajamas coordinating outfits.  Ugh...

     Dustin came in the back door from jumping on the trampoline with mud all over his "retarded looking shirt."  I may have overreacted, sent him upstairs to change, had a minor melt down, and while I was breathing into a brown paper bag, Devin came in and said, "Dustin did that on purpose. He said, if I roll in mud I won't hafta wear this stupid shirt."

     Breathe Jenny.  Breathe.  If Curtis hadn't been here to bring me back to reality, I probably would have taken the retarded, muddy, shirt, rubbed Dustin's nose in it, then made him wear it to church and for pictures.  It would've made a funny picture and story...eventually, right?

     Okay, picture time!  We have Kaya 14, Daymond 14, Devin 12, Dustin 9, Dani 7, and Dakotah 4.

     On our way rushing out the door, heading for two separate vehicles, because we can't all fit in one,  I said, "We hafta take Darli!" Curtis looked at me like I was from another planet. "Are you kidding? I don't wanna hafta keep up with the dog!" "I will. C'mon Darli!  Should we take Tyson too?" "NOOO!!!"  "Goodness, now who's overreacting?"

     There's a beautiful little park just a couple minutes from our house where we  went to do our family "photo session."  

     Curtis had lots of fun ideas.  We had everything we needed.  Camera.  Kids.  Props.  Sunshine.  Smiles.  Positive attitudes.  Nothing but time.  Let's do this!

     Kaya and Daymond, both teenagers were over this before it ever started.  So they were fairly cooperative from the get go.  I know they were probably thinking, smile and it'll be over before we know it.

     With Dani and Dakotah, all you have to say is, smile and strike a pose.  They love being the center of attention.  So they both done great.

     Then there's Devin and Dustin.  Wow!  Although the park is very pretty.  It also has a lot of distractions for little boys.  Streams, rocks, woods, bugs...

     Every time I snapped a picture they were both off and running like wild animals.  Jumping across the creek, climbing trees, rolling down hills, throwing leaves at each other. 

     I felt like a broken record.  "Devin stop.  Dustin don't get dirty.  Devin you're going to get hurt.  Dustin put the bugs down."

     We left the park Sunday with a total of 30 pictures taken.  Six grumpy kids, one angry, disappointed mama, and a daddy that was probably wondering what he was thinking when had the idea to do pictures. 

     After editing, we came out with ten amazing pictures of our beautiful kids.  And now that the anger has subsided, I can look at these pictures and laugh and say it was all worth while. 

     Don't take life too serious.  Lesson learned!

     Most well behaved of the day?  Definitely Darli!

     

     

      

     

     

When I Grow Up...

      I had friends and teachers growing up that always ask me the same question. When I was little the question was, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" In middle school they would say, "What are you going to go to college for?"  Assuming that everyone would go to college after graduating high school.  And in later years the question was, "What are your plans for the future?"  Wow, that's pretty deep.

     I noticed the people around me always answered these questions with things like; a doctor, a lawyer, a pediatric nurse...  I've always been the type, since a young age, that wondered, why doesn't anybody ever say, "I'm gonna be a trash man" or "I'm gonna work at McDonalds." After all, somebody has to do it. But the one occupation that nobody ever named, possibly the most important job out there.  A mommy!  Who do they think raises those doctors, lawyers, and nurses?  Hello?! 

     So, my senior year of high school, my high school sweetheart, with whom I had planned to spend the rest of my life, said to me one night, in deep conversation, "Jenny, have you thought seriously about your plans for your future?" My first thought was, here we go again.  By this point, I was sick to death if this question! I was also tired of critical eyes when I told people that it wasn't in my plans to go to college.  I had nothing set in stone.  So I made it very clear to him that I was put on this earth to be a wife and a mommy. That's all I had ever wanted and all I had planned for "my future."

     Guess what I got?  Critical eyes.  Needless to say, that was the beginning to our end.  He wasn't "Mr. Right" after all.

     I'm so glad I didn't conform to what someone else wanted me to be over what I knew in my heart, was the calling on my life.  I hate to think of where I might be today if I hadn't held on to the unseen hand of God.

     That was the hardest, saddest, most horrible breakup in world history!  I was just sure I was going to die.  I couldn't eat, I couldn't drink, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't think, I couldn't concentrate on anything.  I pretty much walked around like a zombie, until.......

     August 26, 1998.  That's when I spotted him.  There he was, walking into the gas station.  Ahhh...could he be real or was he just a vision?  I must admit. I DO NOT believe in love at first sight.  But if I did, I would swear this was the closest that anybody had ever came to it in the history of existence.

     If it wasn't love at first sight what was it?  It must've been lust.  But it's over now:)  I'm not proud of this but that's the only explanation.  Lust it was.

     I noticed he was with a friend and his friend was pumping gas.  So, I took myself and my outgoing, unfiltered, personality to that friend and said "hi."  He probably thought I was hitting on him.  But I shortly followed "hi" with "your friend is really hot!"  He laughed.  Hottie came out of the store.  Friend introduced us.  And the rest is history.

     Hottie, a.k.a. Curtis, has now been my husband for fifteen years next month.  I would be lying through my teeth if I said we had been happy every single day of those fifteen years.  That would make a great story but a very untruthful one.

     After starting to date we learned that we both wanted a big family.  Cha Ching!!!  I hit the baby jack pot!  And I was thinking, "check this guy out.  We'll make some beautiful kids."

     It's true what they say. Whoever they are.  The first year of marriage is NOT EASY!  Immediately after saying "I do" those cute little things that Curtis said and done while we were dating...NOT cute anymore.  They were now ridiculously stupid and obnoxious, which lead me to feel many different emotions for him in that first year.  Aggravation, annoyance, rage, hatred...love?  Not so much.  Mostly I just wanted to kick him in the throat and run the opposite direction while he was laying on the ground gasping for breath.

     Now, almost fifteen years later, we realize where we were going wrong.  We had our priorities completely out of line.  First of all, we did NOT have God at the head if our marriage.  Without Him as the leader.  It will never work!

     Yes, we went to church on Sundays. We checked the "Christian" box on hospital papers.  But were we being "Christ like?"  Absolutely not!  It's a sad reality that I've recently learned, too many people think all it takes to be a Christian is to believe in God.  Darwin, the inventor of the evolution theory or the "big bang theory" believed there was a God.

     It didn't take us fifteen years to get our priorities lined up.  But it did take us longer than I like to admit.  God first.  Spouse second.  Children after spouse.  Then everything else.  Sometimes that's a hard pill to swallow.  But that's the way it was intended.

     Recently, after being blessed enough to be able to stay home with our children for fourteen years, I started working.  I'm constantly bragging on my sweetie to the ladies I work with.  I'm proud of my man!

     Three nights ago, I came home from work at mid-night and Curtis had bought me roses, a Caramel Milkyway (my favorite), and written me the sweetest card telling me how much he appreciates me.  Aaannnddd he rubbed my achey feet while I told him all about my evening.  It's the little things:)

     I know.  He sounds perfect, right?  He's not!  There are still times I'd like to kick him in the throat and run the opposite direction.  

     So, I don't have a college education.  I've never traveled out of the country.  I wouldn't know how to act at a five star restaurant. 

     But if you ask me thirty years ago what I wanted to be when I grew up, or twenty years ago what I was going to college for, or seventeen years ago what my plans were for my future.  I could've looked ahead to today and with perfect contentment said, "Yep."

    

     

Harvest Pumpkin Goodness

Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels...except cupcakes.  They taste pretty darn good:)

     One of my very favorite things in the world to do is bake!  I like to bake cakes, cookies, pies, breads, but mostly, I love to make cupcakes.
     What's not to love about a cupcake?  They fit in your hand, it's just the right amount without feeling guilty, you don't have to dirty a plate or fork to eat them.  They're just a tiny piece of heaven.  Yummm...
     So, when I started nagging my husband for a Kitchen Aid Mixer about three years ago, I thought the day would never come.
     I make cupcakes for everything!  I've made them for weddings, anniversary party's, birthdays, baby showers...all the while, using my little hand held, cuisinart mixer that I paid 0.25 at the Christian Quarter Store in Fordland.  I have to admit, it was a good one.  But it wasn't a Kitchen Aid.

Wedding

Applie Pie Filled
Wedding Shower

 
   Ladies, I hate to rub it in, but I probably have about the best husband in the world!  Last February, for Valentine's Day, he did it!  I got my mixer!!!
     This thing is my pride and joy.  When nothing seems right in my

   world.  When I've had a horrible day.  When all of my dishes are
dirty, the laundry's piled four feet high, the kids are covered in spaghetti and meatballs, and I haven't had a shower for five days, I just go to my safe place.  My little butchers block in the kitchen where my mixer sits all bright and shiny.  Sigh.....All is well.

250 cupcakes for a
60th Anniversary Party

     My mixer and I will be celebrating our one year anniversary in three months.  In those nine months I've made a lot of old recipes and I've discovered a lot of new ones.

     When I "perfect" a cupcake, I usually don't like to share the recipe.  But this one is too yummy not to share.  In fact, it's so yummy, that I had these for breakfast, and lunch yesterday...then a sensible dinner, of course.
     So, with Thanksgiving just around the corner, I want to share this easy, Harvest Pumpkin Cupcake recipe.  It's a great alternative for the kids that may not like pumpkin pie.  They are so easy and delicious!

HARVEST PUMPKIN CUPCAKES
4 eggs, slightly beaten
3/4 c. vegetable oil
2 c. sugar
1 (15 oz) can pumpkin puree
1 3/4 c. all purpose flour
1/4 c. corn starch
4 tsp. pumpkin pie spice
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
3/4 tsp. salt

CINNAMON CREAM CHEESE FROSTING
1/2 c. butter or margarine
12 oz. cream cheese
2 c. powdered sugar
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. vanilla

Cupcakes: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Stir together dry ingredients in large mixing bowl.  Add rest of ingredients.  Mix on medium for about two minutes.  Fill cupcake liners 2/3 full.  Baker 17-20 minutes.

Frosting:  Cream together butter and cream cheese in mixer on medium speed until light and fluffy.  Add powdered sugar beating until smooth.  Stir in cinnamon and vanilla.

ENJOY!!!

   

   
   

So good they'll make your tongue slap your brains out!

 

Before I Kicketh The Bucket

     I decided about two years ago that I needed to make a bucket list.  Just in case you live under a rock and don't know what a bucket list is, here's the definition from the urban dictionary:  A list of things to do before you die.  Came from the term, "kick the bucket."

Jesus...Lover Of My Soul

     I may have set my sights a little high.  1.  Spend the day with Jessica Simpson, 2. Get a tattoo, 3.  Go on the Dr. Phil show, or be in the audience at the very least, 4.  See New Kids On The Block in Concert, 5.  Own a bakery and call it, "Jenny's Coffee Cakery."  That's just a few.  

     With my touch of O.C.D. I find making lists very satisfying.  The only thing more satisfying is marking things off of those lists.  Sometimes when I accomplish a lot of things in a day,  at the end of that day, I make a list of everything I done and put a big X by each one. Ah...such a feeling of accomplishment.  You should really try it.
     So, get a tattoo. X!
     I have written/emailed The Dr. Phil Show so many times throughout the years that when they see my name they probably say, "Oh, it's Jenny again."  It's not that I really have that many problems, I just really love Dr. Phil!  What's not to love?  He's tall, dark, bald, and handsome, and tell me, is there anything the man doesn't know?  Nope.  I didn't think so.

     About five months ago I finally got a response from the show!  What?!  One of Phil's (that's what he wants me to call him) producers called me on a Sunday afternoon and woke me up from my nap.  The nerve!  They were interested in MY topic!  Seriously?!  We talked for close to an hour and he informed me that he would be getting back to me.  He called back two days later to tell me that they had an emergency come up, that they had to move another show up quickly so I would have to be pushed back.  But hey, I was on cloud nine.  I talked to Dr. Phil's producer!  I'm practically famous now!

From The Dr. Phil Show

     I just happened to be strolling the Dr. Phil website a couple of months ago.  Some might call it stalking, I call it, supporting an addiction.  There was a headline that said, "Are you a Dr. Phil mega fan?  Email us and tell us why you should be an insider."  I thought, I've got this.  I emailed them right away.  I explained in my message that I'm allowed so many celebrity crushes, and Dr. Phil is right there beside Donnie Wahlberg and Channing Tatum.  That must have caught their attention because they emailed me back!  

     Two weeks later I started viewing live tapings of the show online, before they're released on the air, tweeting my opinions about them, and having discussions in a chat room with the other "mega fans."  It's so much fun and you all may laugh, but I just feel pretty darn special!  There's on average, 40 of us that tweet weekly. I would say we're a pretty elite group  :) Go DP SISTERHOOD!!! 

     So, I haven't met Dr. Phil YET.  But if this is as close as I ever get, I'll call it good.  X!

     In December of 2012, it was just like any other day.  I was cleaning house, doing laundry, when I heard it on the radio!  "Turn it up kids.  Shhhhhh!!!  Turn it up!"  They all stopped what they were doing and looked at me like I was growing a horn out my forehead.  The D.J. just said that New Kids On The Block will be touring in 2013.  Nooo way!  

     I threw my dish rag down, ran to the computer and googled it.  Sure enough, I heard him right.  Oh...My...Goodness!!!  Breathe Jenny, breathe.  Okay, first of all, let's think logically here.  I just don't do things like this.  Concerts, yes!  With Curtis and the kids.  But NKOTB?  For real?  I have to go.  I HAVE TO GO!    

     The first thing I done was called my "bestie" Amanda Wright.  "Guess what???"  She was excited but was thinking a little more logically than I was.  This was going to be expensive.  More than likely our husbands would never go for it.  I couldn't wait for Curtis to get home from work!  I'M GOING!!!

     If I haven't mentioned it before, I'm gonna say it now, I have the best husband in the world!  I ordered our tickets in February,  the concert was in St. Louis in June, and for the next four months I was absolutely worthless.

     I couldn't think about anything but "the concert."  Our dinner conversations were always about "the concert."  When one of the kids was talking to me, I was looking at them but I was thinking, "Donnie, Donnie, Donnie, Donnie."  The tickets were ordered.  The hotel room was reserved but it all felt so surreal.

My NKOTB ticket!

     And so the countdown began.  96 days.....72 days.....48 days.....oh my gosh 29 days.....two weeks....and for the last week all I done, in preparation, was listen to New Kids music, watch them on YouTube, work on my poster for the concert, obsess over what I was going to wear...It was NOT good!

     The boys were so over, she's my "Cover Girl" and "Summertime" that they threatened to throw my c.d.'s away when I wasn't around.  Ugh...they do NOT want to experience my wrath.

     OH....MY....WOW!!!!  It's Saturday, June 29th, we're all packed and ready to start our little road trip!

     We were going up the night before the concert.  Going to do some shopping the day of, and spend hours getting ready to go stand in line f-o-r-e-v-e-r!  

Working on my poster!

     It was my friend Amanda, my sister-in-law Erica, my brother Jimmy, and myself.  Let's do this!  They were all a little nervous about how I was going to act.  For one thing, I hadn't been out of the house without kids for so long that I didn't know what to do with myself.  Another thing is, I get start struck when I bump into the local weather man in Wal-Mart.  How would I react if Donnie Wahlberg got within five feet of me.  Curtis joked that he had been saving money for months to get me out of jail just in case I got arrested while we were there. :)  They don't have much faith in a sister, do they?

Right before the concert.  This is my excited face!

     From the time we got in the car to leave Marshfield until time for the concert, I walked around like it was a dream.  I was still thinking...this can't be happening!  I'm going to see New Kids On The Block!  I'm going to meet the love of my life (right below Jesus Christ and Curtis Coffee of course) Donnie Wahlberg!!!  I was just certain when he saw me that he would want to stop the tour, throw his career away and come live happily ever after with me, my husband, and our five children.  Why wouldn't he?  Right!?
     IT'S TIME!!!  We spend two hours on our hair and make up.  Let's do this!!!  I felt 17 all over again!  Jimmy, my little brother, had never seen me act like this.  He had only seen the responsible, mommy, side of me. Where I took care of everybody, kept things in order,  and always put myself last.  Well, not today Jimbo...not today!  He just stood back, stared at me, and waited for me to do something really stupid.  I have to brag on myself, I was very well behaved.
                                                                           

It didn't matter to us that we already had our tickets, we still got to the stadium about three hours early.  Part of the fun is standing in line and meeting other "Block Heads."  That's what us NKOTB fans call ourselves :)
     There were several local radio stations there giving away from row seats.  Nope, we didn't win!  But Amanda and I did get our picture taken and put on "The Arch's" web site.  Again, I felt famous!  That's a WIN!
     It's time!  Oh my gosh, IT'S TIME!!!!  We stood as patiently as possibly and watched as they opened the gates. I swear everything slowed down and it felt like it was all happening in slow motion.
     Amanda and I had downloaded a picture of the seating chart to where they were performing, we had our seats marked, we had watched tons of the shows from the same tour, we knew exactly where we were going to be sitting...we thought.
     We went in, started looking for our seats, finally found them and "high pitched scream"  they were soooo much better than we had ever imagined!!!  We were right by the stage.  Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
     So we sat, I practiced my breathing.  I ask the security guard that was stationed right beside our seats, how much I could get by with without getting kicked out.  He looked a little frightened.  I explained I just wanted to know if I could stand on the fence and lean over to maybe "cop a feel."  Ya know, of a hand or something.  Get your minds out of the gutter.  He laughed and told me that if I stood on the fence, he would come and "recommend" that I get down so I didn't get hurt, but no, he wouldn't kick me out! Oh good.  Now I know my boundaries.
     Of course there were the two opening bands.  Which were amazing!  But I was there for Donnie Wahlberg, er...I mean, New Kids On The Block.  Uh Hmmm.....
     The lights went off, the music came on.  Their intro took at least three hours.  Okay, so it was more like three minutes but it was the longest three minutes of my life! And then, there they were!  About 15 feet away from me!  My mind worked over time.  "I could have this fence cleared and be wrapped around his leg before he even knew what hit him.  But them I would miss the rest of the concert because they would most definitely kick me out.  And Curtis was only joking about me going to jail.  He would NOT be a happy camper if he had to drive 3 1/2 hours to bail me out."  Yep.  All of that went through my head in about a 15 second period.  Then I think I may have blacked out for a minute or so.
     Then I realized, my sign my sign!  While Donnie's close, I have to show him my sign!  So, I stood up in my chair, the security guard didn't tell me I couldn't, and held my sign up.  It said,  "Donnie, I'm not Single but my husband says your crazy if you don't KISS ME!"
     That's when it happened.  That's the moment he had to make the hardest decision of his life.  He smiled, winked, make a kissie face, then walked away. He had a show to perform.
     The rest of the concert is kind of a blur to me.  Amanda took one picture of me standing, leaning on the infamous fence, in some kind of trance. I wasn't smiling, I wasn't blinking, I'm not sure I was breathing.  I was just taking it all in.
     They sang for two hours.  It was the most exciting two hours of my life!  I can't describe how I felt when it was over.  I was exhausted.  I was somewhat depressed.   I was fired up!  I was thrilled!  I was happy.  I was sad...
     That was four months ago.  Thank goodness those feelings have dissipated.  Once in a while, when I crank up my New Kids jams I still think, "I can't believe I actually got to see them."  This is coming from someone that gets really excited over a new dish scratcher or a different brand of laundry soap.
     I've been a "Block Head" since I was nine years old.  That's 24 years!  In all of those years, no matter what the different fads, I never stopped loving NKOTB.  I'll be loving them forever ;)
     4.  See New Kids On The Block in concert.  X!
   

There we are!  The D.J.'s loved my sign.  I had to let them know, it was my sweet husbands idea!  He's pretty great :)

So he's a Red Sox fan.  We can't all be perfect!

   

   

     

         

Dani Jean my Beauty Queen

     My pregnancy with Dani Jean,  baby girl number one, started out like all the others.  I've always said, when I have heartburn that's as good as a positive pregnancy test.  Heartburn, check!  So, that was the first sign.  And I was extremely tired.  But with three boys, ages three, six, and eight, I suppose that was to be expected.
     Just to confirm what I already knew, I went to the store and bought the cheapest pregnancy test I could find.  I had learned in the past it didn't matter if you paid $1.00 at The Dollar Tree or $12.00 at Walgreens, they all work the same.  You pee on the stick, wait two minutes, you're pregnant, or you're not. Well, I was!  Yaaay!!!
     With each pregnancy we would say, "let's wait until we're past the crucial stages, then we can start telling our family and friends."  Who were we kidding?  I took the test on a Friday and Curtis made the announcement to our church family on Sunday.  When you're excited, you just have to share it!
     As soon as word got out that we were expecting baby number four, the questions started flying.  "When are you due?"  "What are you having?"  "What are you naming her?"  "Is that short for Danielle?"  "Like the boy name?"   "How much weight have you gained?"  "Are you sure you're not having twins?"  "Can I touch your belly?"  And everyone's favorite?  "Don't you know what causes that?"
     I swore to Curtis I was either going to start carrying a sign around or have a t-shirt made that said, "August 23rd...Girl...Dani...No, it's just Dani...Yep, just like the boy name, except with an "I"... None of your business...Nope, not twins...Touch away, and would you like to poke my belly button while you're at it?  It's only slightly sore and stretched to the point of no return...And YES I know exactly what caused this! Do you want me to explain it to you in graphic detail in front of your three children and your elderly grandmother?  No?  I didn't think so."
     I attended my monthly doctor visits, took my prenatal vitamins, got in as much rest as possible, and counted down the weeks until we would meet our baby girl.  
     It was time for my fasting glucose test.  Ugh...I. HATE. THAT!  For those of you who have never experienced this.  You need to!  First of all, you go into the hospital, fasting for at least eight hours and the nice nurse offers you either a lemon lime or orange flavored sugary drink. And they encourage  you to drink it as fast as you can.  Sounds harmless enough, right?  WRONG!  The positive is, they keep these drinks in cute little glass bottles in a very cold refrigerator.  The negative, it's like drinking a very thick, syrupy, sweet bottle of pop, on an empty stomach.  That's never a good idea.
     I chose orange.  After all, I love Fanta!  I can do this!  WRONG again!  After getting about half of the bottle down, I had to make a break for the bathroom and throw up.  I came back to the waiting room, told the nurse that I didn't keep it all down and she said, "I'm sorry honey, you'll have to start over.  It has to be a full bottle."  "Let's go with the lemon lime this time."  That was a much better choice.
     This test took three hours.  I took a book.  I took a nap.  I visited with other patients.  After all, I can make a friend no matter where I'm at.  Then I went home.
     I got a phone call a few days later telling me that my sugar levels were elevated and I would have to go back to the hospital for the six hour test.  Are you kidding me?!  There's always a silver lining.  That's six hours of nothing but sitting on my butt, reading, drinking me some lemon lime delicious-ness and no little boys using me as a jungle gym.  I could deal with this.  The nurse assured me that my levels were just barely elevated so this second test was only precautionary.  That's a relief because if I'm irritable with sugar, you don't even want to know what I would be like if you took it away!
     Guess what?  They took it away.  My second glucose test was elevated as well.  Little Debbie is like a family member at our house.  She's like the sister I never had.  Not only was I sad for myself but I felt like I was betraying Deb. (That's what I like to call her)
     They scheduled me right away to see a dietary specialist to tell me all of the cans and can not's of gestational diabetes.  I was thinking, how hard can this be?  I can not have sugar...the end.  Who knew that everything that tastes good, has sugar in it or has something in it that will turn to sugar?  Oh my gosh!  My poor baby was going to starve to death!
     "Mrs. Coffee, you need to avoid anything white.  Potatoes, breads, pastas...anything else that tastes good."  And then there were the obvious things, "no candy bars, pop, cake, pie, ice cream..."  As her voice trailed off and I grew dizzy,  I thought, you might as well just rip my heart out and stomp on it!  I left the office that day feeling very depressed and hungry!
     And so, my new lifestyle began.  Eating more healthy, doctors visits every week, including ultrasounds and stress tests.  They were monitoring the baby to make sure she didn't grow too big too fast.  That's pretty common in diabetic pregnancy's.  This was my routine for about two months.
     Then the time had finally come.  We had some friends over for dinner, Matt & Amanda Ogle and their girls Gracie and Callie.  I cooked, we visited, laughed, talked about old times, told funny stories, the kids played.  We had a good time.
     I had had Braxton Hicks contractions off and on all day and they continued throughout the evening.  I didn't think much of it.  I've came to realize that the longer you stay home, the less time you have to spend strapped down to that hard hospital bed.  So, I ignored the tightness in my belly and went on about my evening.

Photo taken by Amanda Ogle 12 hours before Dani was born

     Amanda started to notice my discomfort and was timing my "Braxton Hicks."  They were getting more regular and more intense.  She was excited and encouraged me to go to the hospital.  I said, "eh, let's just hang out for a while.  Maybe we'll go later."  I had all kinds of time.  After all, it was still twelve days until my due date.
     Matt and Amanda left around 10:00 that night, we headed to Springfield around 10:30.  My contractions had grown a little stronger and were now 6 minutes apart for about four hours.
     They checked me into triage.  The nurse hooked me up to the monitor and my contractions were still going pretty good.  I can't say I was in pain, but I was starting to feel it.  They came in, checked to see if I was dilated and if so, how far.
I was at a 4 1/2.  Yes!  They wouldn't send me home!  I was going to have this baby tonight!
     The nurse said she needed to call Dr. Walker and see what he wanted to do and she'd be right back.  "What he wanted to do?  Seriously?  Let's do this!!!"
     "I'm sorry Mrs. Coffee, but all of our beds in Labor and Delivery are completely full and we have women in the waiting room.  Is there anyway you could get a hotel room in Springfield for the night so you'll be close?"   "What?  If I were a nurse or a doctor, maybe.  But no, I can't get a room."  "Okay Mrs. Coffee, we're going to have to ask you to go home and call at six o'clock in the morning to see if we have any open beds.  "Oh, okay.  No problem.  Let me just put a cork in this thing and I'll be on my way."  Can you believe that?  So, we left.
     I'm sure Curtis would rather have been anywhere at that moment than confined to a small space with me.  But he said for better or worse.  So, at 1:00 a.m. we headed to The Waffle House.  I would show them, if they were going to send me home while I was in active labor, I would just take my diabetic self to The Waffle House, order a big stack of waffles, and eat real, that's right, REAL syrup on my waffles!  Ha!
     At home, around 2:30 a.m., Curtis's head barely hit the pillow before he was snoring.  And that's why I hate his guts!  I paced the floors all night, I took three baths, I packed more things in my hospital bag, I watched the clock and at 6:00 on the dot, I called Labor and Delivery.  They had an empty bed.  Lets book it!  GET UP CURTIS!!!  "How'd you sleep?"  "Just shut up and drive."
     This time, we skipped triage and they put me straight in my room.  After hooking all of the monitors up to me, a nurse came in to see if I had made any progress.  I was now dilated to seven centimeters.  The doctor came in and told me if I wanted my epidural, now was the time.  "If?" Get that man in here, now!
     The anesthesiologists name was Dr. Casenova, I'll never forget that.  He had me sit on the edge of the bed, arch my back, breathe, and do NOT move.  By this point my contractions were on top of each other.  It's not easy to do the above, while in pain and carrying a beach ball around under your gown.  But I did it.        As soon as he was done, he had me lay down.  Dr. Casenova was just getting ready to administer the test dose when I told the nurse, "it's too late.  She's coming out."  Sure enough, there she was.  When you've done that as many times as I have, you don't even need the doctor.  Right after the nurse caught the baby, Dr. Walker came in.
     Anytime a first time mommy asks me if I had epidurals I tell them, yes!   With all but one delivery and I strongly recommend them!  I can't really describe the pain and if I could I'm sure it wouldn't be appropriate so we'll just say, it hurt really reaaalllllyyyy bad!!!  
     She was here.  My beautiful baby girl.  I looked at her perfect little round body then I looked at Curtis and he had this look of shock or maybe fear in his eyes.  My first thought was, "Oh my gosh!  She has a penis! No, she can't be a boy!  Not another one."  Then he said, look at her fingers.  I looked at her little hand and it looked like she had laid on her thumb for a long time and smashed it.  Then we started looking at her other hand and her feet.  Upon further inspection, we discovered that our perfect little baby girl had twelve little fingers and twelve little toes.  Two of her fingers were webbed and two of her toes were webbed as well.
     I know this may not seem like a big deal to some of you.  But when you're looking forward to meeting your precious, perfect, baby.  And they're born and they're not perfect.  It's quite a shock!  Instantly all of things that I could have possibly done to cause this, came flooding back to me.  Like the time I snuck a 3 Musketeers when I really needed something sweet.  Or that I didn't always take my prenatal vitamins because they caused severe constipation.  Or or or or!  I drove myself crazy!
     I'll never forget what Dr. Walker said at that moment.  "You are so blessed.  It's better to have too many fingers and toes than not enough.  Or she could have been born with her heart or her brain on the outside of her body.  Your baby is beautiful and she's going to be just fine."
     Dani was born at 7:30 that morning, they took her for testing and didn't bring her back to me until after midnight that night. I spent most of the time crying and questioning God?  Why?  What could I have done different?  She's going to hate her hands and feet for her whole life.  Then I felt selfish.  It could have been so much worse.  But we never want our children to have to endure any kind of pain.  Or to get made fun of in

any way.  My mind was working overtime.
     Dani went into the first grade this year and she came home last week telling me that someone told her that her hands are "funny looking."  I told her to explain to them that that's how God made her and her hands may not look like theirs but she's pretty and she has great hair! She said, "yeah, you're right. I am pretty."

After 1st surgery.  15 months old.

     God gave Dani the confidence that she's going to need to get through this mean world.  She's quick to tell people that, "she had shurgery and she can't help it."
     We love our little Dani girl and she lights the room up with her smile wherever she goes.
   

After 3rd surgery.  

   
     So, although Dani wasn't born with "10 little fingers and 10 little toes."  She's pretty perfect in my eyes.
   




   

Danis cute little piggy's and thumbs before surgery

   
   
   
   

Dani on Easter with her nasty pink cast.  Gag!

The night before surgery.  She always has a smile.

Danis webbed fingers and extra wide thumb before surgery

After surgery.  Curtis cried the first time Dani was able to lace her fingers through his :)