“Alex is going to make an awesome husband someday. I’m a single mom tonight and he made dinner, swept the kitchen floor, and is getting Laela ready for bed. Also, during dinner as I was cutting up Avery’s food, he took over and told me to get my own plate of food ready.”

Would you believe he’s also “the best babysitter ever in the whole entire world?” And that’s straight out of the mouth of Libby.

Pretty friggin’ amazing when you contrast that to the torment I/we endured when my parents went out on a date.

Funny story:

Alex also babysat last Wednesday when Steve was in Houston and I wanted to go to Libby’s last day at Grace Harbor (one day a week school for homeschoolers) where she would be performing in music, speech, spanish, and art.

We were gone four hours!

When I left, Laela and Avery were crying, I was in a hurry, and my cell phone had just died.

I gave him good instructions and assured him that they would calm down after I was gone.

But without any way for him to reach me, I was actually unsure and felt a bit uneasy the whole time I was gone.

Four hours later, we returned home. I walked into the house and all was quiet. (That’s nice.)

All the cupboards in the kitchen were open. (No biggie, he did make lunch for them after all.)

The table was strewn with crafts. (Awesome, they were productive.)

The family room was one huge fort. (Just what Avery wanted.)

They slowly came down to greet me.  I asked Alex, “Soooo, how’d it go?”

“Great!” he said.

I turned to Avery, “Was Alex a good babysitter?”

“Yeah! It was fun. He’s the best babysitter.”

I looked at Alex, with eyebrows raised, as though to say, You are so getting a tip today.

Then I remembered Laela’s diapers and said to Alex, “Did you change Laela or take her to the bathroom?”

He started busting up laughing. He could barely talk. I heard him say “blowout” somewhere in there. And he kept pointing to Avery and saying what sounded like, “She did it. She did it.”

His laughing was contagious but I was nervous thinking about a poop disaster to clean up.

As it turns out, Laela did have a major diaper blowout. At the time of said blowout, apparently Alex was gagging, convulsing, and horrified at the thought of changing her diaper.

He turned to the only other person there, his 4.5-yr-old sister, for help. As it also turns out, Avery was undeterred by the task.

He told her that all she had to do was name her price and it’s hers as long as she was the one to do the dirty deed.

And he bought her off with a 99-cent icee from the corner store.

The whole time Alex is in crying laughter fits as he tries to tell me all the gory details and answer my questions, Avery is sitting by nonchalantly listening and nodding her head in silent agreement. It was obvious she truly didn’t think it was a big deal.

I’m realizing now I should have just asked her about it.

He assured me he helped with the final touches and that they both washed their hands afterwards, making it a win-win-win-win for all of us involved.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Alex was stoked that he got 2-dollar tip. So.Worth.It.

And The Best Babysitter ever only charges $3 an hour.

He loves it!

But when I returned home from the TJEd Forum in SLC, when Alex, Grandpa Chad, and I were staying up late talking one night and I told Alex I had a gift for him, he looked at me suspiciously.

Slowly he asked, “Is it a book?”

“Yes!” I said, knowing how happy I’d be making him. “But it’s in Daddy’s suitcase and he won’t be home for a few days so you’ll have to wait.”

“I don’t want it,” he matter-of-factly replied.

What?! Weird. Gosh, he didn’t even know book it was.

“Why not? I thought you loved it when we brought you new books.”

He was vague. Ambiguous. Grandpa and I probed but weren’t getting anywhere.

I was at a loss. Okay, I thought, I guess he hates books now. Or maybe he was hoping for something else. Maybe this is the new 12-yr-old Alex. What am I supposed to do with a homeschooler who hates books?

When I ran upstairs to get something, I realized Alex had followed me up. He was whispering secretively so Grandpa wouldn’t hear and he needed to know asap.

“You didn’t buy me a sex book, did you?!”

“No.”

Sigh of relief. “Oh, good. Okay. I want it then.”

Ah, so that’s what all that weirdness was about. I had forgotten that about a week prior we had had another one of our what-to-expect-as-an-adolescent talks.

Apparently it’s not one of his favorite subjects.

(Side note: I happen to think that Steve and I are very good at giving “talks.” I wonder what Alex will say about it 10 years from now.)

But, of course, a big kid and a little one can’t jump together on a trampoline safely, despite our constant insistence that the big ones take it easy.

He showed me how she came down onto her knees with her feet sprawled out behind her, and I’ve seen her do this myself before. It makes me cringe, like kids falling down on their knees on concrete makes me cringe, but she usually is just fine.

This time was different. She was crying off and on, mostly on, and she had that scared desperate look on her face, which made me very uneasy.

Celeste Kennard’s family came into town that day from Indiana, though, and for just a couple hours I had a chance to visit with them all.

We waited a bit to see if she really needed an emergency room visit.

She did. Steve took her in.

Her tibia was broken across just below the knee and her fibula was fractured.

Poor baby. Of course she got a purple cast. Purple is her favorite color. And the neighborhood kids and we signed it with well wishes.

It’s been 8 week now and so she’s mostly better. No more cast. No more leg brace.

She hobbles around and we’ve been calling her “our little cripple.”  She tries to run but falls down some of the time. The doctors assure us that she will heal just fine, eventually.

Alex felt so guilty about it. He kept insisting on giving us money to help pay for her injuries. Even the Easter egg he got with money inside was handed straight back to me, and he won’t take “no” for an answer (believe me, I’ve tried).

Over all, she adjusted beautifully to being in a cast. It was harder on me, I think, since I had to carry her around everywhere. My wrist ended up in a brace because of the strain.

She was definitely a grumpier kid and we are so glad that our sweet, happy Laela is making her comeback.

Our friends, the McCords, bought our trampoline, which we replaced with a tire swing. The tire swing is fun, but it’s not as fun as a trampoline.

We’ve decided that a pool will be our next big adventure. (Although, technically the real big adventure would be moving to a new house on an acre with a pool where we can garden, have fruit trees, berries, chickens, and an outdoor dog.)

Laela is addicted. She constantly asks for more “nemolade” in her bottle.

And her favorite toothpaste is the “duggledum” flavor. (Can you guess what it is?)

It is interesting that in the three days I was gone her language skills improved dramatically.

Now she can hold up her finger, she gets that funny, crooked Laela face on, starts to turn to leave, and says “I be back in a minute.”

She also lip sings to songs on the radio, but she puts all her heart and soul into it and makes her face very dramatic, like she’s really into her singing only there’s nothing coming out of her mouth.

I’ve been trying to get her to say “not” instead of just shaking her head when she says “You mean Mommy” and shakes her head or “You stupid Mommy” and shakes her head. When I got home from my trip she was starting to say it.

Oh how we love you, Laela.

I have to carry her everywhere, and she just doesn’t want to be alone playing on the floor, even with all the fun, new toys we borrowed.

She’s such a sweetheart and adapting so well to her crippling circumstances. She holds me or asks me to hug her often, she’s been cuddly and cute (when she’s not whining for something because her leg hurts or, more likely, because she’s spoiled now).

But she’ll pat my face with her little hand and say, “You nice Mommy.” Her “I love you’s” are gifts she gives all throughout the day.

And since I’ve been so wrapped up in spending quality time with Laela, Libby and Avery have been getting along famously. It helps that we have all this new stuff to play with and crafts to do, which has kept them excited and eager to jump into activities together.

They were swinging side by side today and holding hands like they were BFF. I hope to keep that memory seared into my brain forever.

Avery and Libby holding hands together on the swing made my heart swell for sure. But it was while I was swinging in the hammock with Laela on this gorgeous spring day when she sidled right up next to me, put her head on my shoulder and squeezed her little arm over me, and said “You bes frien” that melted my heart.

She’s a little charmer, that girl, and we’re gonna keep her.

I was in the middle of dream sleep when my bedroom door opened and light shone through my eyelids.

I heard the pitter-patter of Avery’s feet.  She usually wakes me up to take her to the bathroom and then get tucked back in because she thinks she can’t do her blankets just right, and her blankets have to be just right.

She stared at me for a couple seconds (I could feel it). Then she said, “You’re beautiful,” and she kissed me on my forehead sweetly, then went back to bed all on her own.

What a “sweetheart lovey-dovey.”

Of course I modified the allrecipes.com recipe that I found in order for it to be super duper easy. I did not note all the changes I made; there were too many.

I made this so fast. These are ingredients we most always have on hand.

D.J., Alex, Ryan, and Josh were dunking yesterday, and Josh used his sweet editing skills to make this short video.

Watch the bloopers at the end. It’s funny.

Dunk Perfect

She just started crying out of the blue. I asked her what was wrong.

“Me me did it,” she cried. “Wight heew,” pointing to her lip.

She had scratched herself and affixed the blame accordingly.

She said, “We hate satan.”

Pause.

“But sometimes I follow him, don’t I,” she stated matter-of-factly.