the Advent

There have only been a handful of times I've been able to share the story of the adoption from start to finish. I write it to satisfy the curiosity you didn't know you had and because I have to believe that everything that happens when we follow God's leading has a reason. I hope to reread this someday and know what it was.

We had been praying for a girl named Kiara and her soon-to-be-born baby girl, due the same day as Liza's second birthday, November 29, 2010. She had been confident in her decision for the adoption of her baby. She had big plans to leave her childhood life of poverty behind by attending a university to get a degree in business, to make a life for herself. She already had a nearly 3-year-old daughter and the father of both girls was incarcerated. We met her and though she thought we looked too young in our profile scrapbook (yes, I made a scrapbook. Be impressed.) she had decided she liked us. She believed she had the full support of her mother, and the father's mother. The week before Thanksgiving and 2 weeks before her due date, she officially informed our social worker that Joel and I would be the parents of this baby girl.

Friday morning, the day before the other young Fankhauser Family would arrive for the holiday and the first day of Joel's call weekend, Sarah the Social Worker called to tell us Kiara was in labor and was expected to give birth within the hour. With all of the uncertainty involved in the adoption of the child of a teenager, we had held back much hope. Even with the phone call, I felt as though I were watching someone else receive the news. I did the only thing I could think to do next: mop the kitchen. No newborn would enter my household with as many germs as I thought were visible in the crumb and grime beneath our dinner table.

Mid-mop, I stopped holding back. I had been told my daughter would be born that day.

I called Joel 4 times at every number I had available. I took all the children to Target and Sam's Club. I told them for the first time that the baby we had been praying for would finally be joining our family. We bought a portable crib, a car seat, and bottles. I washed a brand new coming-home outfit and blanket. I began to prepare the way for this little one.

The day was stressful. Normally, a simple trip to any store with all 3 children is enough to wear me out for the week. But also included was coordinating with my friend April who would watch the children late so we could visit the baby in the hospital. We had to figure out how the other Young Fanks would get from the airport in Tulsa to our home in North West Arkansas. Joel had to deal with hospital admissions and emergencies since this was his one call weekend in 6 weeks. But none of this mattered much. We were going to bat for our daughter and we were not going to let her down.

That night, after dropping off our children with an excited family in Springdale, we made our way through the cold and dark to the hospital. And there she was, as tiny and precious as she could be. She was 6 lbs, 10 oz, and 21 inches. She had curly hair and a squishy newborn nose.

To be honest, it didn't felt like she was mine. I somewhat expected this but I couldn't wait to get to know her, to fall in love. We took a picture, but I haven't yet been able to bring myself to post it.

The next day, preparations for her arrival- as well as the arrival of many more Fankhausers- continued. I was about to get dressed to go pick her up and bring her home when Sarah called to inform me Kiara was being pressured by her family to change her plan. Time stood still while we waited.

Around noon, about the time I should have been arguing with the nurses why the baby hadn't been discharged yet, Sarah sent me a text with what I what I hoped was not the final word, "I think she's leaning towards keeping her..." It took the entire weekend before I let go of the possibility that she might stand up to her family. But she didn't.

-----------------------------------------------------------

It's been 25 days since these things took place. We're in full Christmas mode here; we're shopping, wrapping, singing, eating. But with every reminder as to why we celebrate Christmas comes a very painful, joyful sting. The world once lay silent awaiting the coming of a child. Born unto us that day was our savior; only He could save us. Only He can heal us.

This is the part of the story I hear most clearly this year. It describes the baby I embrace. He is so close to my heart.

'Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying:

"Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
you now dismiss your servant in peace.
For my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the sight of all people,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel." '

Luke 2. 28-32

No, It's Not Chili in a Shoe Box

It's a walnut brittle experiment gone bad. I have no tips for how to make a successful walnut brittle. But here is a list of things you can't do:

1) Don't change pots mid boil. Just pick the right size pot and then get out your next biggest one and use that.

2) Don't assume your candy thermometer is working incorrectly just because your mixture doesn't get hotter than 250 degrees in less than 15 minutes -- UNLESS you are confident in your ability to use the hard ball test using cold water.

3) After pouring and cooling your walnut/caramel mixture, don't think you can reheat it to correct temperature. The walnuts will sink to the bottom of the kettle, even with constant stirring. They will then begin to smoke. If this happens, find your youngest child and warn them that the smoke alarm will proceed to sound for about 10 minutes because the amount of smoke in your house will be so great you suspect an actual fire somewhere in or around your stove.

4) Don't bother to check for fire under the burner. It's probably coming from your kettle. Turn off the burner and use the actual recipe intended for peanut brittle next time.

5) Don't throw your walnut brittle away in a perfectly good shoe box. Use it to wrap Christmas presents (the box, NOT the brittle) or store toys. You can even use it for shoes.

6) Don't throw your box away in the trash can. This is my biggest regret so far. Put the lid on, wrap it up, and mail it to one of your friends.

When Bad Things Happen to Little People

It didn't start out that bad. Silas woke up a little before six, Micah not long after. I had plenty of time before breakfast to check Amazon holiday lightning deals, my email, and even Halle Berry's mismatched outfit that Yahoo thought was news.

Just minutes before breakfast, Micah began one of his marathon tantrums because I couldn't make his train track fit together the way he wanted. He carried on for 30 minutes or so (on his bed, at my insistence) and comes out to tell me what I thought was "I moved the bunk bed". But I just took him back to his bed thinking he was trying to manipulate my rule for tantrum containment for what would have been the 4th time in the 30 minutes thus far. I set him down, gave him his blanket and a kleenex and told him I'd be happy to talk when he had calmed down.

Twenty minutes later he calmed down enough to talk and I saw the worst black eye I've ever seen on any of my kids. Comfort FAIL. I'd let him cry while legitimately and seriously hurt. He sat on my lap for a while until Liza insisted she not remain in her booster seat any longer.

We worked through school. We had a teary morning but we were making it just fine. Kids started telling me at 10:45 how starving they were. And thinking to myself that it just might work to my benefit to eat so early (because it would have followed with early and extra long naps) I began to fix lunch.

Until I heard the thud.

And then I heard the yelling
"Sorry Liza! Liza! Sorry. Mom I said sorry to Liza!"

And then I heard a slight wail in followed by the cry out that did...not...stop...

I picked Liza up flailing, clutching at my shirt, and still pushing that cry out. She began to look panicked and started to turn a funny color grayish white. Her eyes rolled back into her head, she arched her back and neck and passed out in my arms. It seemed like a long time before she took a breath but now I estimate it was only about 5 seconds. It's interesting what the mind can do in 5 seconds. I had a plan: tell Silas to find a phone, administer rescue breathing, think about who might babysit while in the ER, let the babysitter know there's pizza in the freezer and juice boxes in the pantry, and nap time IMMEDIATELY follows lunch today.

After she started to breath again, it wasn't long before she regained consciousness. I checked for blood and protruding bones. (I found none.) From that point until well after supper she informed everyone "I bonk head." I asked her what she hit her head on. It was different every time: a plate, a bunny, her other head. Now I'm no doctor, but I reckon a lapse in consciousness can effect short term memory.

It got better. After crying for an hour about what a horrible parent I thought I was, Mrs. Oyler came to help clean the house and Joel came home to check out the wounded. The children have all survived the day.

Liza Turns Two

Two years ago today, I was recovering from one of the worst nights of my life. Labor with Liza was the most painful, fearful situation I've ever endured. But she was so worth it!!

I know everybody says stuff like "I can't believe my baby turns (insert age here) today" or "Where has the time gone?" Today, I'm saying it too. By the time Silas was 2, Micah was already 8 months old. By the time Micah was 2, Liza was a little over a month old. I do wish our fourth child was with us now, but how much we have to be thankful for!



Liza stands up to the chaos. She hits the horse play dead on. Several have suffered at her hand in play. When all is silent, she can be found eating toothpaste in my bathroom. She thrives on 3 square meals (not including the toothpaste) and a nap at the same time every day. She loves bananas and hates vegetables. None under the age of 5 can fill up a glass of water and dump it in the sink without spilling it as many times as Liza does. She's brave; she jumps from coffee table to couch without blinking an eye. She receives discipline for said activity without remorse.

She carries her once white blanket- now gray- every where she goes. She sings songs with near perfect pitch, but without many of the words. The words she uses in speech, she uses powerfully. She is a curious, wondrous creation. How much we love her!

A Family Confrontation (Because you asked for more stories about poop...)

Micah runs to me in the kitchen and asks with furrowed brow and anger in his eyes, "Are you mad at daddy?"
"No! Why do you think I'm mad at daddy?" I feel concern that maybe, possibly, um...just once or twice they might have picked up on a time that I might have been mad at Joel...
"Daddy flushed my poo poo."
"No, Micah, I love it when daddy flushes the potty. Why would I be mad at daddy for flushing the potty?" This is all utterly and completely true. I do love it when Joel, or anybody, flushes the potty at our house when needed.
"Because I wanted to do it!"
"Oh yes, I know how you love to flush your poo poo." Micah and Silas have had many squabbles over whose right it is to flush when they've both used the potty. Feeling very much like a judge at trial, I asked Joel for his side of the story. Emily Fank. piped in, "So now we'll find out how it all went down..."

Joel's story goes like this, "I went to go wipe Micah's bottom because he was done. Micah said he wanted you to do it. I told him no, I had come, so I was going to wipe his bottom. Micah said he was going to tell on me. So I said, 'Micah, do you think mommy is going to be mad at me for wiping your bottom?' at which point Micah started hopping his bottom around so I couldn't wipe it. So I finally wiped his bottom and he walked away from the potty, I guess to put on his underwear, so I flushed it."

I looked to Micah, "Do you think I was mad at daddy for wiping your bottom?"
"Yes."
"No, I'm not. I'm not at all. It takes TWO parents to take turns wiping bottoms. Sometimes, mommy is busy, like tonight I was busy sitting in this chair right here and I need daddy to help me. I'm sorry daddy flushed the potty when you wanted to do it. You should tell him so he'll know for next time."
Micah says, "I'm too sad."
I told Micah, "If you don't tell daddy, he won't know for next time. You need to tell him how you feel."
Micah looks at Joel and said in a very firm voice, "Can I flush it next time?"
Joel says, "Sure."
I got up to run bath water. Micah shot Joel a very dirty look behind my back.
A family confrontation has ended peacefully.

"Hebrews 12.1-2"

For unmistakable reasons, this was brought to my mind at nap time.

Therefore since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses
let us throw off everything that hinders
and the sin that so easily entangles
and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus
the author and perfecter of our faith,
who for the joy set before him
endured the cross,
scorning its shame,
and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

Now at the risk of sounding irreverent, I've written some of the words as I heard them.

You're surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses- dear friends here and abroad, faithful grandparents, other struggling mothers, aunts, sisters, parents, parents-in-law-
so throw off everything that's hindering you! - your idea that a clean house is more important than the time it takes to teach your children, your desperation to look like a good mother -
and the sin that so easily entangles-the rage that quickly wells up that makes you yell, your attitude toward the day-to-day tasks that you think are meaningless-
and run with perseverance the race marked out for you- it's difficult, it's long, and there are few rewards you can see or touch. But it's the path I chose for you now and a RACE WORTH RUNNING!

alice, fix your eyes on Jesus- He doesn't grow tired or weary-
the author and perfecter of your faith- He makes things new in you because you can't-
who for the joy set before him- your sons, your daughters, YOU-
endured the cross- higher, deeper, longer, wider than any sacrifice you think you've made lately
scorning its shame- because He came to be the servant of all-
and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God- It is finished! He sits in highest place and has been given a name that is above every other name. And at the name of Jesus let every knee bow and every tongue confess...

-------------------
So, unto you be all praise, glory and honor and thanks.

The White Trash Project

We've wanted to have chickens since we found out we were moving up here*. It was going to be a spring project; a reward for surviving the winter. But Joel's boss came into some chickens he didn't want and we're now the proud owners of 4 laying hens.

That's the fun part. The other "fun" part was the building of the coop. Much like my meatloaf recipe for disaster, here are is the blueprint for our white trash chicken coop project.

Day 1: Joel's boss man offers us some free chickens!
Find out we have a week to build a coop.
Dream up amazing plans.
Calculate cost of said amazing plans to be about $600.

Day 2: Go with Micah and Grandpa to TSC to find out pre-manufactured coop is $150.
Reality check with Andrea; many have a monthly salary of less than that amount.
I can (and should) build coop from scrap lumber. After all, what if we hate chickens?

Day 3: Bad day at home. No progress.

Day 4: Grandma Fank arrives! No progress.

Day 5: Silas' Birthday!
Draw up new (simple, realistic) blue print on piece of cardboard.
Debbie and I set to work cutting chicken wire and lumbar.
Chicken run is completed.
Base of coop is established.
Liza's nose gets possibly broken.

The nearly final product; decorative trim, window frames and flower boxes will be added.

Day 6: Pressure is on.
Liza dumps out nails in gravel.
Micah runs off with tape measure in trunk of tricycle.
Silas runs into Liza with his bike.
Micah runs into Silas with his tricycle.
Boys are banished to basement.
Hammer, measure, hammer, saw, pry nails out of mistake, re-hammer.
Liza dumps out other box of nails.
Debbie leaves.

Day 7: Coop comes together.
Hinges are added to doors.
Silas knocks over can of red paint on carport floor.
Coop is set up on stand.
Realize there is no way for chickens to get to chicken run from coop.
Chickens come TOMORROW.

Day 8: Doors and locks are installed.
Stand is leaning severely so we attach braces.
I stare at the run for 30+ minutes; must figure out how to attach it to the coop.
Micah has fever.
Joel and I argue whether we can do any more projects together ever again.

Tree, Henny Penny and Coffee-Pot-Ouch-Face

Day 8 post-nap: Straw is placed in nesting boxes and tools are gathered off the coop floor.
Joel and Silas arrive with 4 hot, smelly, squawking chickens.
Minty Maize Ruff Ruff drools and barks threateningly.
I get poo on my leg while trying to shoosh MMRR with my foot and balance crate with my hands. Hens are named: Tree, Coffee Pot Ouch Face, Henny Penny and Henrietta.
We realize we need a chicken yard.
Micah throws up.
A friend and I take my 26th trip to Lowes find line of demarcation between beast and foul.

The inside of the coop with nesting boxes and roosts designed to educate hens about measuring, math and hiking; Henrietta is not a permanent fixture. In fact, it's my best guess that she'll be the first to go, one way or another...

Day 9: line of demarcation is 4 panels to short.
Take 27th trip to Lowes before Joel leaves for work.
Move chickens to run.
Give chickens water.
Get pecked and scratched by Henrietta on the way.
Line up fence panels.
Give chickens water.
Hammer stakes in ground.
Carry all children inside for crying too much.
Give chickens water.
Decide a hanging water-er might be handy since chickens knock water over so much.
Finish fence just before supper.
Let chickens out; they are finally happy.
Open door to coop at dusk; girls happily go inside on their own.***

14 of Micah's 100 mosquito bites he got while watching the chickens come out of the run for the first time. Now a shirt must also be worn in addition to shoes when entering the chicken yard.

Day 10:First thing a.m.: gather eggs.
Calculate the cost per egg-- $76.67**
White Trash Project well under way.

The chicken run has been placed where the wire fence STILL doesn't meet the privacy fence.The scenic compost bin is in the background with what's left of the chicken coop paint resting safely on top.

*Actually, I've wanted chickens all my life. As a little girl, I can remember feelings of confusion when my mom described how she didn't want to play with the chickens at her grandma's farm.
**This amount could be $26.67/egg if you don't count the cost of the fence which we can use for other things if the chickens don't work out.
***By far, this is the greatest thing about having chickens. Four little somethings going to bed without a fuss; many of you will know how special this is.

Since the good ole days of July 2010

I just heard Joel say to Silas "Well, when somebody poops on the floor, somebody has to clean it up."

Other than that, here is a quarterly update.

JULY
Sorry, I don't remember much. I think I helped Andrea build a tree house. I definitely ate cookies at her house several times. We had the great Family Vacation at the Poteets. We moved out of our LR house. We had to fill in a bunch of holes in the back yard and replace all the screens on the back yard windows. Other than vacation, July was such a sad month for me when I thought of leaving our dear friends and family behind.

AUGUST
1. We moved in. We love our new house. Only a dozen boxes remain to be unpacked. House highlights include a flat-ish drive way for riding bikes, a huge back lot with the perfect climbing tree and gardening plot, good basement space for my Y3K supply of food, a grassy, landscaped yard with few enough weeds that we haven't had to mow much. This is great since our lawnmower blade didn't survive the metal in the LR backyard. Also, grandma and grandpa Weaver live 5 blocks away and around the bend!
2. Joel started his new job. He loves it. Call nights are a joke compared to residency's. They make us happy.
3. We finished the bunk bed project. It's sturdy enough that if you bump your head, it really hurts. It hasn't improved bedtime behavior. It does provide hours of fun.
4. We visited the peach orchard a couple times. I've never had local apples or peaches. AMAZING. And if you come visit, I've got pies, crisps and tarts ready to be thawed and baked...

SEPTEMBER
1. Silas turned 5! He had a great birthday. Grandma Fank came all the way from Ft. Worth. He said school (MDO) was "awesome" and loved everything he ate all day long. The next day, we went to a corn maze to celebrate. Everyone picked out a pumpkin. According to the tractor driver, they were planted too early, but what do I know about that? My pumpkin vines died from rain and dogs.
2. We started school. Not mothers-day-out, mind you, but home school. So far, the boys have really done well with listening and following directions. Unfortunately, Liza is not invited anymore. She gets to spend some quality time with her pacifier ("hassy") and her toys in her bed. Silas' review of home schooling is as follows, "It's not as fun as my other school," referring to MDO, "they have better crafts and lots of fun toys to play with."
3. We decided which church we'll attend. We'll be joining the small, Saturday-night Mosaic crowd at the local non-Baptist mega-church. We've only been a couple times but feel excited about where God is leading this church and are glad to join in.

Now a couple of people specific brief updates:

Silas loves the freedom to come in and out of the house. Our street is very quiet and several of the neighbors are retired so we have spent some time getting to know them.

Micah accuses his teachers at church in front of them every week of not letting him color pictures. Since every other kid comes home with a picture, and the teacher looks confused and embarrassed every time, we think Micah may be a bit on the dramatic/imaginative side. He also catches spiders who go to the circus, juggle while riding the ferris wheel, bite him, hate cereal, etc. etc. Last week, he finally stopped telling me he wanted to move back to our old house.

Liza is an amazing, non-stop, talking human being. She, like Micah, has her quirks. I find them both endearing and intolerable. She calls me "Alice." She wants to sit in every chair at the tall table at every meal. She cannot bear to have the buckles on her booster seat unbuckled.

Joel is busy studying for his pediatric board exam. He took the internal medicine one a couple weeks ago and says he's sure he got an "A" but won't know until January. When he isn't studying, he takes the children on searches to find the perfect park.

I'm starting to feel settled. I love that Grandma Weaver comes to visit me every day. She's really been an encouragement with the kids. She's also a wealth of knowledge about gardening, preserving fresh fruit, and keeping things simple. She and Grandpa both have been very helpful of what I've dubbed "the white trash project". It's almost done and will be the topic of the soon-to-be next post. It involves scrap lumber, various nails and screws and, hold your breath- poultry.

Liza, after the truck tail-gate-on-the-nose incident

My hair cut (for Amy V. who doesn't use facebook)

"Three Children in Kitchen Window Seat Overlooking Birdbath"

My sister Sara -who graciously helped us with the move- amongst the boxes

the Young and the Wrestling

I'm really thankful for friends who remind me that my success as a parent shouldn't be weighed by the outcome.

There have been some great outcomes recently. I'm nearly ready to label Liza's Project BigBed a success. Silas has been wearing underwear without being asked. Micah uses the potty 94% of the time. All of these things happen when I'm home with them.
Could someone else be doing this? Sure.
But it's me.

This week I found out that both Silas and Micah spent time in time-out at MOPs. This is Silas' second week in a row to get into trouble under another's supervision. This week, Silas told me it was because he and Micah were pretending to "fight like a baby" and another little boy got knocked over. Then all this happened at the pool. We swam for less than 35 minutes before I had to take everyone home. After they had received warnings for dunking, running, pushing, spitting and fighting and then ignored every single one, I made them dry off and go home. I feel all this reflects on my parenting but I'm just not sure what to do about it.

The boys have fun wherever they go. That's good.
Other kids get hurt when they rough house. That's bad.
They are cheerful and enjoy each others company. That's good.
They tune out adult instruction/supervision when they're wrestling. That's bad.

So hear ye this: God alone must be my judge. Not a stranger, not friends or enemies, not myself. I, alice, have typed these things with my own 8 fingers and 2 thumbs. Amen.

Spring has got me feeling all creative (and stuff). Friday night we had this theme dinner:

"Home on the Range"

Menu:

• Eggs-in-a-basket with cowboy hat cut-outs cooked with butter on the range*

• Cowboy hat mini-toasts with strawberry jam

• Sautéed broccoli & carrots with prairie garlic and fresh sage

• Sweet iced cream

Unfortunately no one was allowed to eat ice cream because that was the day Silas and Micah ate all the chocolate before breakfast.

*a cooking stove that has an oven and a flat top with burners or heating elements

A Tale of Two Do-Overs

Do-over One: The Chex-Mix

Joel and I have always been conscious of spending a little time together every day. It's getting harder and harder all the time. The boys are staying awake longer at night and taking shorter naps or no nap at all. I have dreams about the day we have money to pay a baby sitter, or when we're not so brain-dead by the time the children go to bed that we can have a meaningful at-home date time. For now, though, we have settled into a weekly TV routine: Monday- Jack Bauer, Tuesday-LOST, Wednesday-the Middle, Thursday-30Rock, Friday-a netflix movie. Since we got Tivo to record LOST during our small group, we have now added King of the Hill reruns to replace watching the 10 a'clock news. This isn't ideal, I know. But for now, it's the best we can do.

Over time, we've developed a habit of binging on chocolate and junk food once our children are in bed for the night. (Don't try to pretend you don't do it too.) We've even got a special tub that contains a normal stockpile of dark chocolate candy: stuff I bought on clearance at the drugstore after Easter, Valentines, Christmas, etc. Last night we also had shared half a bag of chex mix, I think around 10:00pm.

Somehow, the special tub was left out for a second night in a row.

Before 5am, I woke up to Joel throwing up. At 6:30, I woke up again to giggling in the hallway. At 7:30, I woke up to a chocolate covered face looking at me. At 8:30, I realized not just that the chex mix had been poured out on the carpet, but that my sweet little angels had eaten most of it and turned to what Joel and I have labeled "the artificial children"*.

The "artificial children"s behavior led to Liza waking up early
...which led to TOO fussy at breakfast
...which led to emergency coffee
...which led to facebook
...which led to the waffles being left out
...which led to shooshing the children downstairs to play unattended
...which led to the legos being dumped out on the floor
...which led to the legos being kicked from their point of impact to all 4 corners of the biggest room in our house
...which led to the realization that all the chocolate was gone
...which led us to getting the you-know-what out of the house to the playground
...which led us to getting rained on
...which led to the chic-fil-a playground at 10:40
...which led to the 600 calorie lunch I hadn't planned on eating and the $13 I hadn't planned on spending at 11:00
...which led us home for naps at 12:30
...which led to nap time being over at 2:00
...which led to this blog post
...which led to Micah sticking his fingers through a block of cheese, breaking it off and giving it to Silas
...which I assume will lead to constipation, but you never know.

Do-Over Two: Potty Training

We've waited and waited to feel that Micah was ready for potty training. He told me Wednesday he wanted to use the potty and he's done so ever since. As for "training" on my part, there was none. I'm really, really proud of him! Here's to hoping do-over #3 is just as easy...

*We've been able to identify artificial food coloring as a culprit for some- NOT ALL- unexplained, extraordinarily bad behavior. The FDA agrees with me so if you think I'm just being all kooky, you can stick it.

Dithers

I'm waving my magicians cape all around me as the pyrotechnics display on my brain-stage explodes with sparks of red, white and blue. The music in the background blares "The Final Countdown" by Europe. The final countdown is 6 months.

Somewhere between episodes of "Arrested Development" and the toxic smell of the red paint I washed off the glass door the other day, my mind seems to have gotten cluttered. I've had recurring dreams before but never dreamed of picking up figurines off the floor, turning around and seeing Dora under the table again, staring at me with her creepy/cheery grin and her helmet-head hair. I had this dream 5 times last night!

There's a lot going on around here. The numbers speaking to me in my head won't quiet down so I'm going to write "the list" here in hopes that it will therapeutically sooth my angst and let folks feel sorry for me. They'll say "Poor Alice. At least she had a reason to be committed this time."
------------------

1) Joel is interviewing. He's had several interviews here in Little Rock, one coming up this weekend in Bentonville, and had one in Las Colinas in the DFW metroplex.
2) Joel hasn't been offered a salary starting at $1,000,000 like I had secretly hoped. With my secret plan, we would have paid off his loans, our mortgage, adopted several babies from Ethiopia, taken our new family of 12 on a cruise to Alaska, and then Joel and I would have taken a couples retreat, just the two of us, to an all-inclusive resort on the French Riviera.
3) Joel has to register for state-specific peds/medicine boards by February. This means a decision DEADLINE!
4) Silas turned 4 in September. He will need some sort of K4 education if he's ever going to make it into Yale.
5) Micah turned 3 just 2 days ago. He needs to be potty trained if he's ever going to make it into Yale.
6) Liza will be 3 in 1 year and 11 months. If we're going to adopt a baby by the time she's 3, we've got to get some paperwork going stat.
7) Minty Maize Ruff Ruff needs to be spayed so we don't have to send 11 puppies with her to doggy school whenever we have the money for her to go.
8) Our children keep trying to ride Lewis. Lewis keeps biting our children. This is all one big problem.
9) Rice Krispies Treats are just too delicious for me to ever be able to lose weight for Garrett's wedding.
10) I got a new camera for Christmas and have been taking lots of pictures. But I forget to get the card reader out of the disaster room before Micah goes in there to take a nap every day. By the time he wakes up, I've forgotten about uploading pictures. I'm starting to feel a great deal of guilt about this.

OK, thanks for listening. See you for my next session in a couple days.