Uncle!

Unlike Grant at this age, Annie simply blazes her own trail and assumes that everyone else will keep up with her!

The poor baby was like a hot stick of butter and just kept sliding right out of the bouncy!

Corn mazes, pumpkins, bouncy houses, and animals... Oh my!

Hay ride to feed the camels. No. I'm not joking!

Here's the 3rd Musketeer!

Never mind that these suckers were $12 each and you can get them for $4 each at WalMart. It was all about the memories - talk about priceless! :)

Here's the recap of the weekend...

Saturday - Pettit Creek Farm in Cartersville. I love this place. Right after our world was turned upside down, we took a trip to the farm and the owner personally gave us a tour. She helped Dasha walk the entire property and even picked her up when a turkey chased her. Then, she brought out a baby wallaby for the kids to hold. Despite their $12 pumpkins, this place will always hold a special place in my heart as a sort of epiphany that we could still do fun things and make memories as a party of four.

Sunday - Church. I don't even know if I should touch this activity with a 12 foot yard stick right now. I just can't find my niche. I don't fit in with the "regular" groups in my age range because they are all married and raising families. I don't seem to fit in with the singles because they are knee deep in living the single life. And, well, let's just go ahead and put it out there... I surely don't fit in the class with Jello girl. So, I've skipped the Sunday school scene lately. Heck, I've even skipped choir. Complacent? No, not really. I was even restless during service this morning. (Can I just note that I ended up having to stab my dad in the leg with a pencil because he was forcing the teacher in me to ooze out with his squirming and pestering)? Anyway, this seems to be a work in progress. I'm just not sure where the other singles are that have their kids 99% of the time (meaning no "free" weekends to go party) and have a 3 year old that requires a baby sitter and a nap so extended lunches after church are a little laughable. Hmmm... Who knows. For now, I guess I'll sit in the service and continue to jab and stab dad into a respectable church-like attitude using pencils and other non-adultish tactics. (My mom has given up trying to keep him in line so I've had to pick up the slack)!

After church, we splurged and went to a real restaurant. Holy smokes!!!! I forgot that they change the menus out for the after church crowd! What costs $5 at lunch through the week costs $17 on a Sunday afternoon! I told the kids to savor each bite because they were eating gold! At this point, I realized that Annie wasn't eating her food and I thought it was because she thought it was gold. Nope. A couple of hours later, I realized that she was simply at the onset of a stomach bug. That mac and cheese she'd been nibbling, yep. I saw it again as a repeat a few hours later. Dear Grant's comment was, "Hey, mom! Look at that! We could scoop that up and eat it again! It doesn't even look chewed!" Why, oh why do 12 year olds have to focus on weird things? It took all I had not to add my own lunch to the pile.

Amidst the puke, Grant and Dasha both needed outfits for different activities. Grant needed pants and shoes for his band concert and Dasha needed jeans and a shirt for church this afternoon. Yeah, nothing like waiting until the last minute. We managed to grab everything at Target and hope for a 75% success rate since we didn't try anything on. Luckily enough, Dasha's stuff fit but Grant's... of course not. I guess I'll be making another Target run tomorrow. Ugh.

I dumped Grant and Annie at mom's so I could take Dasha to choir practice and then stay for her "performance." The middle schoolers led worship tonight and to Dasha, this is of mega importance. Grant, on the other hand, missed too many rehearsals so he was nixed from the opportunity. Anyway, on the way to church, Grant texted me alerting me to more pukage at Grandma's. (He was amused that mom had simply handed Annie a bowl and told her to empty her contents into the bowl. Annie obeyed. That's the one thing she got from me and not her daddy. She can puke in a very small confined space. Eric and Grant - not so much)! Anyway, I got clearance to keep going and take Dasha on to church. I thought about heading for the state line but decided that it would be my luck that I'd already caught Annie's stomach bug and it would activate itself about the time I crossed the FL line. The thought of being stranded puking my own guts up on the side of I-75 made me keep the van on a direct route toward the church.

The biggest problem of the day beyond the puke was when Dasha realized that she would need to get herself up the stairs and onto the platform to participate in leading worship. Ok. She's done this before and we managed. Why in the world was she suddenly panic stricken about the situation? It's like she's suddenly becoming aware of her own differences. I lost count of how many times she asked if I was going to be there to help her up and down. During a break, she asked me, "What do you think I did wrong for God to make my legs not work?" Dang. Dang. Dang. My heart is already coming unglued in a zillion different spots. I don't need sneak attacks like that! Cry? Laugh it off? Say, "I don't know?" Or, be honest and say what my first thought was - "Life just sucks like that sometimes." Somehow, I managed to catch my breath and just told her that it was a special gift and that God would use the gift in some really important way. What the heck? Did I really say that to her? I'm surprised she didn't look up and slap me. Before the situation could reach complete melt-down stage, it was time for Dasha to climb the platform. I helped her up the first couple of steps and she managed to get into position on the riser. She seemed to relax and enjoy herself for the first several songs. However, I could see her begin to bobble and wobble. She starts stomping her feet when they begin to hurt and though I couldn't see her feet, I could see her entire body vibrating every few seconds and I knew she was fighting to stay up. Then, she stumbled and went backwards. Somehow, she managed to land on her butt and it looked like she'd just decided to sit down. No one else probably noticed it but I had a feeling that the stumble would have a much greater impact on her. She managed to get back up and then across the sea of audio cables to the stairs where I helped her down. (I'm still wondering if I'm the bad parent for not rushing across the stage in front of everyone and saving her. I don't know). Anyway, the conversation on the way home was laced with anger at God, at Eric, and at me. There are so many times that I dismiss Dasha's thoughts as confusion on her part. However, it's like she really has more of a clue about what's going on than I do and it takes just the right key for her to unload on someone. Tonight, the key must have been her huge desire to stand on stage like the other kids without anxiety about her mobility. She even went so far as asking if the doctor made a mistake when he "fixed" her legs (heel cord lengthening over 7 years ago) and it was his fault that she was struggling. It was a VERY long ride home. Honestly, I wish that I could say without a doubt that I had done a stellar parenting job and said the right things and been nothing but caring and loving but... nope. I'm definitely not getting a gold star for tonight's performance. I think my final words went something like, "Dasha, the doctor did his best. Your legs are just designed differently and if you aren't willing to stretch on a daily basis, your legs aren't going to work right." Talk about grace. NOT!

So, as I let the heart of the 14 year old break in half and stood by and seemed to throw rocks at the breaking heart, I hurled the van back toward mom's house to pick up the puking child and her partner in crime who has been throwing rocks at my heart for the last week. Once again, the thought of taking 575 south and heading right on to 75 popped in my head followed by the vision of my hanging my head in a very public toilet at a rest stop on the GA FL line and succumbing to the stomach bug. Nope. I'll take my one pukey kid.

Now, Annie is in bed running a low fever but without anymore puke. Dasha has her leg and foot braces strapped on as tight as she can get them and is snuggled into bed. Grant is hidden away in his disaster area fighting sleep. I'm still pondering finishing rewriting my lesson plans for the week even though it's 10:45. I started redoing them thinking I had a miracle cure that would somehow miraculously allow me to teach kids from first grade to tenth grade levels all in one classroom. But, I think I'm going to stick with plan A and just collapse for the night. Because, if I have to call in sick tomorrow to take care of Annie, I'm going to have to rewrite the plans for a sub anyway (and give up my second and last sick day with a sub for the semester).

When is this going to get easier? The balls I'm juggling seem to keep getting heavier and more fragile AND the darn clown just keeps throwing in more balls for me to juggle. I can only keep it all up for so long, though, before I start dropping the balls and things are literally going to go to pieces like someone dropping a jigsaw puzzle with 1000 tiny little pieces. Does anyone hear me yelling, "Uncle?" I give!

Good night, all.