Happy 4th Birthday, Mark!

Today is Mark's birthday and what a day it has been! Well, what a weekend it has been! For his birthday, Mark decided that he wanted to go camping. So Friday, we loaded up the mini-van and headed to South Willow Canyon for a little camp-out. Papa and Grandma J joined us with their trailer. Daddy had to work, so he came up a little later that evening. Nanny also joined us a little later, and Grandma M came up in the morning to join us for breakfast.

We had so much fun. I had some great helpers to set up the tent. I told them that whatever rocks and pine cones that they didn't move, they would be sleeping on top of later that night, so they did a great job clearing our space. I put together little back-packs with little activities and games for each boy, and they had fun with that. We did 'Build-your-own-trailmix' where the boys filled up baggies with their favorite treats. The sour gummie worms were the favorite. But what the boys really enjoyed was the DIRT! Mark and Cole, especially, played and rolled in the dirt until the only white on them was the white of their eyes. They raced trucks down this hill then slid down the hill on their rumps to retrieve them. There was a small creek near our camp, and they spent hours just throwing rocks into the creek. Sam enjoyed going on hikes and exploring. He especially liked hiking to a couple of places he discovered--Rock Valley and Rocket Valley (his names). This was Lucy's first official camp-out, and she even got in on the action, playing in the dirt and enjoying the fresh air.


 








I made a dutch oven dinner and then we had fire cupcakes and Nanny taught the boys how to make S'mores (the boys keep calling them 'snores'). We hung out around the fire for awhile and then it was time for bed. My little campers were worn out. We snuggled up all together in our tent (all six of us) and after a little bit of giggling and excitement, everyone was out cold. We also had Gus with us, and he kept close to the tent all night and kept us safe. (By the way, Gus was also in hog heaven running around and exploring).



The next morning, we had some dutch oven breakfast, played some more, made some gnome houses, and then cleaned up camp and headed home. It was a bit of a whirlwind camping trip, but we're hoping to be able to go camping more often. We all had so much fun, and it's just so good for the soul to be out in nature for awhile.

 

 Tonight we had everyone over for a birthday dinner. Mark got to choose the menu, so we stuck with our camping theme and had sloppy joes and pigs-in-a-blanket. We had a camping birthday cake that Mark helped choose from Pinterest. There was lots of good food and good times. Of course, Mark was spoiled with presents--lots of trucks, cars, art stuff, rocket launchers, and cap guns--all things that Mark loves. It was great birthday for a great little boy!

Miracles

Wow! It has been over a year since I last blogged. And what a year it has been! Today I want to write about miracles. My life has been full of miracles, especially lately. At 12:59 a.m. on August 29th, I gave birth to my fourth baby. That in itself was a miracle. It was only six years ago that I was trying to come to terms with the idea that I might not be able to have children. Then almost five years ago, close to Thanksgiving, I had my first miracle, Sam.  Almost three years ago, around this time, we were at Primary Children's Hospital, with Mark, learning about daily miracles and the power of prayer. Then two years ago, in October, we welcomed our third little surprise miracle into our family, Cole. And last week, Lucy taught us yet again about miracles and blessings in our life.

I was so surprised and shocked when I found out that I was pregnant again. My ENT was actually the first person I told because I had just done a pregnancy test right before I went to my follow-up doctor appointment after having ear surgery. I was still having some issues and not hearing very well out of my ear, and the doctor was giving his plan of action and I said, "What if I'm pregnant?" That changed those plans. Then when I was reporting to Nic about my doctor's appointment, I told him that we decided not to do anything about my ear problems right then because I was pregnant. Then I burst into tears. Nic was so cute. I wasn't sure how he would react. To be honest, having three kids under the age of four can be a little rough. I was afraid announcing another one might push Nic over the edge. But he was so excited and gave me big hugs. And thus started our fourth journey.

We both said that we didn't care whether this baby was a boy or girl as long as it was healthy and okay. But I have to admit that I secretly hoped in my heart for a little girl. When I was first pregnant with Sam, I kept having these dreams of a little baby girl. Then I had a boy. I had the same dreams when I was pregnant with Mark. Then I had a boy. Again, I had the same dreams when I was pregnant with Cole. Again, I had a boy. (Don't get me wrong; I love my boys and would be perfectly happy with a house full of them). I wasn't sure if these dreams were personal revelation or wishful thinking. But it was always the same little baby girl in every dream. Nic and I were talking that this would probably be the last baby for us, so I was pretty nervous on the day of our ultrasound/find out. I kept saying that I would be just as excited if it was a boy and I knew that I would love the baby no matter what, but I was praying and hoping that it would be a little girl. And it was. The technician showed us our baby and said, "well, you know what that means." I can't ever see things very well on the ultrasound, so I didn't know what it meant. I was still holding my breath when she finally said, "It's a girl!" We were so excited and suddenly so nervous, because this meant our world was about to change dramatically in a few months!

This pregnancy was more difficult on my body than the other ones. It was difficult with Cole because I got so big and towards the end, couldn't stand up for more than ten minutes. But with this pregnancy, I ended up with gestational diabetes and a severe iron deficiency. With the diabetes, I was able to control it with diet and exercise and didn't need to do insulin shots or anything. I just had to prick my finger and do a blood test four times a day. I didn't think I could do it at first, but it ended up not being a big deal. It was a good wake up call for me that I (and my family) needed to eat and live in a much healthier way. Good thing for summer gardens and fresh veggies! I gained a much greater respect for people who deal with diabetes every day, like my nephew, William. You don't realize that it's not just sugar, but carbs, and that there's so much that you have to think about and adjust in your life.

The iron deficiency was probably the most difficult thing for me. Being low on iron drains your energy so much. I was already tired just from being pregnant, low iron turned me into a zombie! Some days I could hardly think straight and do basic functions like getting the boys and me dressed. I can't swallow pills, so I had to take liquid iron. I've compared it to walking along and finding a rusted bucket full of liquid and drinking it. It tastes so horrible. By the end of my pregnancy, I had to do double doses of iron, and my body still wasn't really absorbing it. After I had Lucy, I had to have an IV of iron. I joked with Papa J and my mom, both soda pop addicts, that I was getting my Pepsi intravenously.

I also joked that I had never had so much estrogen in my body in my entire life. I cried at the drop of a hat over the silliest things. My emotions were all over the place. I could be laughing one minute, crying the next. It was so crazy!

About two weeks before I had Lucy, I broke out in a really itchy rash and hives. The doctor tried a couple of things to treat it as an infection. I tried about every anti-itch cream, powder, spray out there. I was miserable. I would lie awake at night and just scratch and try not to scratch and scratch and try not to scratch. My legs and tummy were covered in bruises probably from my scratching. On Thur., August 28th, I had just started to take a prescription steroid to see if it was an allergic reaction to something and to try to get my immune system to calm down. (I later found out that the rash was probably something called PUPPs, a pregnancy related rash).

The evening of the 28th, we went to Papa J and Grandma J's house to celebrate Papa J's birthday. We had lots of pizza and a fun evening hanging out outside and enjoying the nice weather. We got home around 9:30 p.m. and got the boys in their jammies and off to bed. Then we went to bed. Every night when I go to bed, I try to have baby time where I do kick counts and focus on the baby movements for my own peace of mind. Well, I climbed in bed, laid down on my left side, gave my tummy a few little nudges, and waited to feel baby Lulu. Nothing. I shifted, gave a few more nudges. Still nothing. Normally, Lulu responded quickly, and she was usually very harsh with her movements. I joked that it usually felt like she had broken off one of my ribs and was trying to dig her way out. There were many times when she made me cry from dragging across my tummy so hard, and usually she was quite visible in her movements. But that night, there wasn't anything. She actually had a foot or leg that was pushed against my stomach that I was able to grab hold of and move her. But even physically moving her, she didn't respond back. Even Nic grabbed hold and moved her, but she didn't move back. We knew that something wasn't right. Within seconds, I was on the phone with the on-call doctor, and Nic was on his phone with Nanny to see if she could come stay with the boys. I was so freaked out and crying, but Nic said a prayer that I could be calm and that Lulu would be okay which helped me calm down a little. Within minutes, Nanny was pulling into the driveway as we were pulling out to head to the hospital. We arrived at the hospital and proceeded to do a no-stress test where they monitor the baby's heartbeat. At first, the nurse couldn't find the heartbeat. I don't think Nic and I took a breath during the couple of minutes that it took to find Lulu's heartbeat. But soon, the beautiful sound of her heart beating filled the room. They monitored her heart beat for 20 minutes, and while her heart was beating, they didn't like how it was acting. They called my doctor, and he told them he would be there in 15 minutes and to have me ready.

It was so surreal and crazy when the nurse walked into the room and said, "How about we have this baby tonight?" I was in shock. I had kept telling Nic that I didn't feel like Baby Lulu was going to wait until her due date, but this totally took me by surprise. My due date was September 13th. I was scheduled for my c-section on September 8th. And here we were the last week of August. If Lulu had been born in September, we would have had a birthday in August, September, October, and November. But it was not to be. And I guess miracles don't follow carefully laid out plans. I had a cleaning schedule and a to-do list schedule so that everything would be in place and ready for Lulu by September 8th. Having her on August 29th wasn't on that schedule! We didn't even have the cradle in the house yet. It was still in storage out in the garage. I remember texting my sister, who is absolutely amazing, with my long list of to-do's. There's laundry in the washer...could you throw the baby clothes and blankets into the washer...there's a pile of dishes in the sink...the dishwasher is half unloaded...I haven't made the big brother shirts yet...the groceries are still on the counter...I also had all these plans to be better prepared for my c-section this time. But there I was at midnight, slathered in Gold Bond anti-itch cream, with pizza heartburn, a red blotchy face from crying, messy hair, and no camera to capture Lulu's big debut. Luckily, miracles don't care about any of those things.

We texted my sister, my parents, and Nic's parents to let them know that Lulu was on her way. I was given my IV (which, for me, is the WORST part of having a baby). I have really difficult veins and I'm a difficult patient, so drawing blood and IVs usually involve much needle pricks and lots of crying on my part. When I had my blood drawn for my pre-natal blood tests, it took seven pokes and three different people and left me with some nice bruises. Anytime, I have to draw blood or get an IV, we automatically request the "sharp-shooter". If you don't think you can do it on the first try, if you have even a doubt, then step away! Well, the head nurse did my IV, and she assured me that she was good. And maybe she was good, but she was no match for my veins. It took two tries, and she left me with this:

I was taken into the operating room where the anesthesiologist got me all numbed up and ready. And then it was time. My doctor, Dr. Smith, delivered all of my babies, and he was there and ready to go. For being the middle of the night, everyone was fairly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!
Some things about getting a c-section:

• I always shake like crazy before and after getting the epidural. It's like hanging out in Antarctica in a bikini.
• I always try to pass out. This time, the room was starting to spin, but I couldn't think of the word, so I said, "I'm feeling queasy." So the anesthesiologist and Nic were trying to find me a puke bucket, but I was trying to stay conscious. I guess my blood pressure tanked, the anesthesiologist gave me a shot of something in my IV, and all was well again.
• Your husband can choose to watch or not watch. Nic decided to watch this time. He said it was "interesting" to see my insides all laid out to the side.
• It is really weird to feel things being moved around. It doesn't hurt, but you can definitely feel when they take the baby from your body.
• There is nothing as wonderful as finally hearing that first baby cry. I couldn't see anything and kept asking Nic what was going on. "Can you see her yet?" "Is everything okay?" Finally, I heard that wonderful first cry. I'm crying as I type this because it's just so hard to describe the sound of a new human being making her first sound on this earth and knowing that that precious soul is straight from heaven right then. It's better than angels singing.

Here's where the miracle part comes in. Apparently, Lulu had the cord wrapped around her neck pretty tight in the hangman's noose. She wouldn't have made it to Sept. 8th how she was. She wouldn't have made it to my doctor appointment that week. It was lucky/inspired that my doctor decided to deliver her that night instead of maybe the next day. I don't know why we received such a miracle. I have good friends who have lost babies, and I know that miracles don't come based on how much we deserve them or how much God loves us. It's all just part of a grand plan of which we only see a little part. But I am so eternally grateful for the miracles in my life. Whenever there was a nurse shift change while we were at the hospital, the leaving nurse would introduce Lulu to the new nurse as "the miracle baby". It was good to hear that repeatedly as a reminder of what a miracle she is. One nurse kept telling me, "You spread this message. Tell your pregnant friends to do their kick counts!" So, pregnant friends, do your kick counts! I've also learned to listen to your instincts and not to worry about freaking out about nothing. I remember when I was pregnant with Sam, I had a panic attack where I couldn't feel him moving. I did a no stress test with him, and it turned out to be nothing. He was just turned so that he wasn't kicking against my tummy, and I couldn't feel it at that moment. I felt kind of silly at the time, but my doctor told me that I had done the right thing, and that it was always better to check something out and be wrong then to not check something out and be right. I think even that experience was preparing me for Lulu.

Lulu, also known as Lucia Isabella, was born on August 29, 2014. She weighed and was tall. She was born with a full head of strawberry blonde, almost caramel, hair. The nurses in the nursery kept asking if Lulu could come in the nursery at night (since she was the fourth baby, momma was more than okay with that! I needed to get some sleep whenever I could get it!). They had so much fun with their little doll, and she would come back with little bows in her hair. We loved all of our nurses. They became good friends in our short time in the hospital.

     Look at the angel smile!

 The nurses loved doing her hair. And I don't think Lulu mind the attention one bit!

 A rare moment when we got Cole to look at the baby.

 Lulu's first outfit. She looked so cute and then proceeded to have her first blow out. Little stinker!

Before long, it was time to take our little miracle home. Sam fell in love with his little sister immediately. Mark and Cole...well, it took a little longer. At first, Mark and Cole wouldn't even look at her and wanted nothing to do with her. But little by little, she won their hearts. Now I'm constantly telling them to leave her alone. Our family was already pretty great before Lulu, but now it's even better!

Why I Run

**This was from September. I accidentally posted it on the wrong blog. That's what I get for having too many blogs to manage... =)

Two weeks ago, my sister and I ran a 5k. This was a major achievement for both of us because one, neither of us ever thought we would do something like that and two, it took a lot of work to get there.  I don't what got it into my head to run a 5k, but apparently Amanda and I both got the same idea at the same time. To me, running was kind of this cliche thing, a trendy thing that everyone seemed to be doing lately. Dirty dashes, color runs, electric races...I wasn't going to do it just because everyone else was. I remember cheering for my sisters-in-law, Heidi and Holly, when they competed in a triathalon and thinking that it was really cool but not my thing. I just wasn't the 'running' kind of person. There's a T-shirt that I always wanted to get that says: If you see me running then you better run too because something is chasing me. I actually used to run a lot when I was younger. I ran track for a year in high school. But I don't necessarily look back on that year with fondness. When I was stressed, I used to love to hit a dirt road running and just let the stress sweat away. But that was a long time ago. I had plenty of excuses of why I didn't run--it was too trendy, it's hard on your knees, when could I find the time, I don't like running in the city, I'm too old, not my cup of tea--but then I was feeling blah physically and emotionally. I was feeling chubby and unmotivated, and I knew that I needed to do something to get myself out of this rut. Kind of jokingly, I asked my sister if she wanted to run a 5k with me. She had been thinking similar thoughts and agreed. Next thing I knew we were researching how to get started.
     We started training about nine weeks before the race. We used this program called C25K (Couch to 5k). The program claimed that it could get anyone, in any shape, ready to run a 5k in 8 weeks. About two weeks into it, I was questioning that claim. The program started us out at a fairly easy level running three days a week. We had to run one minute, walk three minutes for about 20 minutes. Then the running times gradually increased and the walking time decreased. I remember when we had to run five minute intervals, I really had to push myself. I questioned whether or not I could really do this thing. Both my sister and I planned a few resignation speeches in those first weeks. But we stuck with it. Whenever I felt like quitting, my hardheadedness would kick in (finally a perk to being stubborn!) and I would dig in my heels and push myself to keep going. Somehow I was able to work it into my schedule, thanks to a very supportive and loving husband, and I stuck to it. By the last couple of weeks, there weren't any walking intervals, and we were running for 28 minutes. Sometimes I like to think back and compare the past me with the now me. I remember how hard it was that first time I had to run for five whole minutes. Now I can run for at least 28 minutes. That's so cool to me.
     We chose to run the Charlee's Angels Benefit 5k. The race was part of a fundraising event for Charlee, a five-year-old with a disease called Batten's disease. We decided that if we were going to do this, we wanted to do it for a good cause and Charlee fit the bill. Charlee and her family go on my list of people who amaze me. They are a family that is facing an obstacle in life that I can't even imagine, yet they are constantly reaching out to others, cherishing life, and inspiring everyone around them, even people like me who haven't personally met them. So many times, when I felt like quitting I would try to think of Charlee and her family and how quitting isn't an option for them and shouldn't be for me either.




     The big day finally arrived, and I was pretty nervous. Amanda and I bought matching spandex running clothes, some halos, and some glitter paint and then we were ready for the big race. It was a neat experience being there with everyone else running for Charlee. There were around 350 runners. Some people were pushing strollers. Some had dogs. Some were all business. It touched my heart to see a large group of runners pushing children with handicaps, including Charlee. Things like that are good reminders for me that there is so much good in the world.



     Amanda and I made a little mistake at the beginning of the race. We had never run a race like this before, so there were many things to learn. For example, if everyone is starting at the same time, don't put yourself in the middle of the mix. Get ahead of all the strollers and people walking. The race ran along the Jordan River Parkway which isn't very wide. It probably took us about a minute to weave through people before we could finally start running and then our pace was off a bit. Also, stick to your own patterns and methods. Don't try anything new on the day of a race. We tried these energy boosters before the race that I think just gave me a sick tummy later rather than an energy boost. And they had water in a few places along the race route. I got some water once, but I think it just messed me up. I had never drank water while running during my training, and so I don't know that I needed it during the race. It just broke my pace again. But other than these things, the race was actually a great experience. We weren't even to the halfway point when the first place runners passed us on their way to the finish line. Amanda and I cheered for a lot of the runners who passed us until we didn't have the energy and breath to cheer any more.
     I finished the race in 35:19. According to the paper I received, I ran a mile in about 11 minutes. I ended up in 93rd place out of 299 women running the race. I placed 17th in my age category (old fogie). Two of the best moments were first, when I rounded the corner and saw my family there cheering for me. My mom came out to support us and Nic and the boys were there cheering. The day before the race, Sam told me that he had a dream that he ran the race too and that he had a flag that said, "Go mommy! Go Nanny!" So the morning of the race, Nanny helped Sam make a flag with some construction paper and a stick that said just that. So there was Sam on the sideline waving his little flag and cheering. So then I decided to help Sam's dream come true. I grabbed his hand and we ran the last little part of the race together. The second best moment was just that--crossing the finish line holding the hand of my little boy. It was an amazing experience overall. I learned several things:
1. I have the most amazing and supportive husband and family in the world. Nic kept telling me how proud he was of me, and the whole time I just kept thinking what an inspiration he is to me and how many times I just feel so proud of him in all that he does. And I hope my boys know how much it meant to me for them to be there cheering for me.
2. I have the best sister in the world. I love that my sister is my best friend and that she is willing to go along with my crazy hairbrain ideas and come up with her own crazy hairbrain ideas for us to do. Running this 5k together was awesome. Love that girl!
3. I can do anything that I set my mind to do. One time after we had just finished running, Amanda and I were talking. We were both hitting a bit of a plateau and not really seeing any benefits to all of the running we had been doing. I wasn't feeling any skinnier, hadn't lost any weight. It wasn't getting any easier (or so it seemed at the time). What was the point of all of this? We weren't feeling the running high that so many people talk about. Amanda said that she needed to figure out her reason for running. She said, "I know you run because you like to run, but I don't necessarily like it. I need to figure out why I run." That has been rolling around in my head for awhile now because I don't necessarily like to run either. When I think of things that are fun or things that I like to do in my spare time, running doesn't even make my top 100 list. So that got me thinking, why do I run? And then the other day, I figured it out. I run because it's hard, and I need reminders that I CAN do hard things. I like that feeling of accomplishment when I make something that seemed impossible possible. If I can do something like run a 5k, then maybe, just maybe, I can get through those other hard things that come up in life. I hope that I can constantly teach that to my boys too because I know that it's often going to be difficult, but I also know that they have the ability to do whatever they set their mind to do.

So, Amanda, what do you think about training for a half-marathon?  =)

A Pure Stay at Home Mom

A few weeks ago, Nic and I attended a class for becoming a licensed Ham Radio operator. It may sound like a random thing, but we've been pretty excited about it. (And here's a little sidenote to my story--we took the test and passed. We are now official Amateur Radio technicians. We have call signs and everything! We're cool, roger that!) Anyway, the class was on a Saturday and lasted for four hours. During one of the breaks, I had the following conversation with an older lady:
Older Lady: Hi Jolene. Where's your cute boys today?
Me: They're at home with my sister.
Older Lady: Oh, that's so nice. You are so lucky to have your sister around to help you.
Me: Yes, I'm so lucky to have her. I don't know what I would do without her.
Older Lady: If you didn't have her to help, then you would have to be a pure stay at home mother like I was.
Me: ????????

What did she mean by that? Was she implying that I am an impure stay at home mother? What does that mean? At first I was baffled by her comment. Then I felt defensive and angry. A little before I had Cole, my sister started coming every weekend to help me with the boys on Sunday. Nic had been called into the bishopric which means that we don't see a lot of him, especially on Sunday. Wrangling two little ones while eight months pregnant was difficult. Then I talked my sister in continuing to come each weekend to help me because wrangling three little boys under three is difficult too. Now I know that other women have done it, are doing it, and will continue to do it on their own, but I have the resource of a loving and helpful sister, so why not take advantage of it. Sometimes I think that some of the older women in the ward think that Nanny stays with me all week and cares for the children while I eat bon-bons all day. So after, the defensiveness and anger subsided a little, then I moved on to feeling inadequate. Suddenly I started to feel like I am a bad mom, like I'm falling very short of the standard, that I'm sub-par.

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The above post was written early August. I had continued on with what I thought was a clever and witty response, complete with five steps to being an impure stay at home mom. But looking it over, and even as I wrote it, it was still coming out as very bitter and angry. The more I've thought about this, the more I've realized that I need to let go of worrying about what others think of me or my perceptions of what others think of me. This is easier said than done, but I'm going to try. I am going to just keep trying to be the best mother and person that I can be, continually improving upon the day before, and have faith and hope that it is enough. I'm also going to remember that when I fall short, I have a very loving Savior who paid the price for me and will always make up the difference. I just need to do my best and turn to Him in all things and that will be enough.

My Terrible Two Year Old Who Is Actually More Terrific Than Terrible

Happy Birthday, Marky-Parky!
Mark just celebrated his second birthday. The big TWO. Wow! It seems just like yesterday that we were here:

 And this is never far from my memory:

Now here we are:

 So, for Mark's 2nd birthday, here are a few things about my sweet boy.

Mark loves to be outside. That boy could stay outside from sun up to sun down if I let him. He loves dirt, trucks, cars, balls...he is all boy. He likes to just drive around in his toy car or the Lightning McQueen four wheeler. For his birthday, he got a new ride--a Harley! He likes to push things around, like his baby brother in a stroller.
 

I like to refer to Mark as my Mighty Mark. He likes to use muscle and might to work things out. We call him "Bonk" because he's usually inclined to hammering things and because he's so active that he's a bit accident prone. He was a little slower to start walking. In fact, he wouldn't even put his feet down to stand. Then one day he decided it was time, and he hit the ground running. He is always on the go. He likes to run, jump, play, dance...anything that keeps him moving. He loves all sports and is fairly athletic for his age. He actually has a really good arm and can throw with a lot of power and good aim. As I was recently hit by a projectile toy dump truck, I can attest to his throwing strength. =)


Mark can be a little hard-headed like his daddy (okay, like his mommy too). Like I said with the walking, he had to decide he wanted to do it. If he doesn't want to do something, he will dig in his heels and there's no changing his mind. I like to think that this just means he will always be a determined person in life.

One thing that his Grandma J said once that has kind of stuck was,"Mark is tough as nails--just don't hurt his feelings." That is one true statement. Mark is an adventurer. He has no fear. He will climb to the top of the highest slide at the playground and slide down without any help. He's not afraid to try new things or of getting hurt (much to my chagrin!), instead, he sees adventures in place of challenges. He is tough as nails. However, if I get mad at him about something or if someone says something that hurts his feelings, the waterworks start. And while he may have initially had some issues with his head when he was born, Mark was blessed with some outstanding lungs.

I think Mark will be a little more introverted like me. He likes to be around people, and he's really sweet and giving, but he needs a little time on his own to really function. I'm the same as far as needing a little alone time to re-energize. Mark loves to share and to give. He loves to give big Mark bear hugs. I think he will be a defender of the little guy in his life. Two funny stories about Mark:

One day we were out somewhere at a semi-crowded place and a kid, probably 9 or 10 years old, wasn't watching where he was going and bumped into me. Actually, he almost knocked me over and gave me a sore shoulder. He apologized and rushed on his way. Mark literally did an about face and with a determined, all-business face started going after this kid. I'm not sure what he was planning to do if he caught the kid, but it made my heart swell to see my little boy going to my rescue.

The other day we were getting some take-out dinner at a Chinese place. As we were waiting for our food, this huge Polynesian guy came in. He placed his order at the counter and then sat down at the table next to us. Now, mind you, this guy was HUGE. He had tattoos up and down his arms and legs and looked like a linebacker for some college team. Well, Mark decided he was going to make friends. He went to the guy's table, pulled himself up into the chair across from the guy, rested his chin on his arms, and proceeded to just stare at the guy. At first, the guy pretended to not notice him. But after a few minutes of intense staring, the guy finally made eye contact with Mark and said, "Hi, little guy." And then they were friends. As the guy left, he said good-bye to Mark, and then said to me, "You have a cute kid." Yes, I do.

Mark is a sweetheart and a character. He brings so much fun and adventure to our family. I am lucky and blessed to be able to call myself Mark's Mom.

 For Mark's birthday, I made him a 2 pancake for breakfast. And I made him a jeepin' cake because, of course, he loves going out in the Jeep. He's already laid claim to my Jeep. That's what I get for naming him after Uncle Mark and Uncle Clay. =)