The Saga of the Mello Yello and the Toilet Water: Part 2

Remember my last post about Levi's incessant questioning as if he's holding a heat lamp down over my head and peering into my eyes.  The Walmart soda cooler?  The  Mello Yello?   

Mello Yello.  Doesn't the name sound soothing?  It sounds like a nighttime hot tea that makes you drowsy.  If given the choice, based on moniker alone, between Coke, Sprite, Dr. Pepper, and Mello Yello for a preschooler; it seems like a no-brainer.  Forget that it's laden with sugar and fizzy pop snappiness.  It's mellow, for goodness' sake!  Besides, I never see it around, have no idea what it is, other than its citrus flavor, and it seemed novel at the time. 

Well...Sunday morning, just before our sound check, I was getting set up and changing some settings on the piano.  I heard one of the guitarists behind me:

"Uh, so.  I read your blog the other day about the Mello Yello?"  It was a statement, but he ended it with a rising pitch as though he didn't quite understand me fully and needed more information.

"Oh, yeah?"  I said, turning around on the piano bench. 

"Um, yeah.  Did you know that Mello Yello is Coca-Cola's version of Mt. Dew?  It's got a TON of caffeine in it."  His eyes were wide.  He's a parent.  He knows.

Holy Bad Mothering, Batman! 

My eyes got huge.  "Are you serious?"  I said out loud.

"Are you a MORON?" I asked myself via inner monologue.  "Good thing you displayed it for the world on the Internet."  No, seriously, good thing.  Sometimes we just need someone to tell us we're making a terrible, terrible mistake.

I quickly did a mental check to see if that day had ended very badly, then relief spread across my face.  When we had gotten home from that Walmart trip, I noted in awe that Levi had gone straight to the refrigerator and put the Mello Yello in there, with only about an inch of liquid missing from the top.  I remember marveling that he didn't drink more. 

"Oh, wow,"  I said as the recollection dawned, and I told our guitarist how God totally had us covered and didn't let Levi finish it.

He laughed, "Well, I just kept wondering when Levi would come down from orbiting space, and I kept thinking, 'Does she know?  Nah, surely she knows.  Should I say something?'"

I was like, "Man, especially with stuff like that, and with me, always say something!!"  For the sake of all that is lovely...

The Moral of the Story:  Levi + Mello Yello = NOT MELLOW

And Also:  Yahweh is awesome and has us covered even, and especially, when we're babbling baboons.

Now for Round 2 of the "Pee in the Toilet Water" parable.

My mom's in town!  Yea!  Sunday afternoon after church, she was playing with Levi in the living room, then she excused herself to go to the bathroom. 

Levi caught her attention to relay something very important.  "Grandmama, only pee in the toilet water, OK?"

She just raised her eyebrows, "OK."

We have standards, people.

(Yes, yes, you're right: clearly not with Mello Yello, but I promise, with everything else...?)

Pee in the Trashcan and All Those Questions

I just needed to make a quick trip to Walmart.  Both Levi and Adelaide were happy and well behaved, but Adelaide and Mommy were both starting to get a little tired.  I was pushing us all to get this one last errand finished.  Well, except the actual last errand of returning our library books.   I was focused, weaving around endcaps and through stands full of children's clothing, picking up speed when I hit the main aisle to the other side of the store for my stain-remover spray.  I hadn't bothered to write my list, because it was short, but keeping one's mind on task is challenging when a small person of the precocious variety is skipping all around you, demanding answers to rapid-fire questions.

Some of them are annoyingly simple.

"Levi, you know why people wear hats in the winter." 

Some of them are annoyingly hard.

"Uuuuuum, well, we'll have to look up squids on the computer when we get home to find that out, Snug."

It is fascinating to me how alive to the world Levi is.  A four-year-old has aptly conquered some of the basics of life and is suddenly mentally able to do a touch of critical thinking and piecing together that astounds me to watch.  It is a thrill.  It makes me so proud.  It makes me newly appreciative of the simple intricacies of everyday life.  And sometimes, it would try to drive me to madness.  All this assimilating is highly dependent on Mommy being always at the ready (and I mean always) like some submissive, professorial old man with a beard and glasses following behind the kid in an intimidated cower and providing quick solutions to every new conundrum.

"Mommy, can I get an orange soda?" he interrupted one question with this new one when he spotted the cooler at the checkout.  Normally, it's just one more question in the barrell, receiving the expected "no."  But today:

"Sure!"  I said, knowing it was not the best use of money, a terrible habit to start, and more sugar than was quite right, but that I was fully intent on getting a Coke for myself.  I opened the cooler door, grabbed my Coke, and looked down at Levi, waiting for him to get his Sunkist.  

"What's in that bottle?"  He was pointing at a Mello Yello.

"It's like Spr---"

"What's that?" pointing at something new.

"Which one--?"

"Oh, I want this one!" pointing at Coke Zero (I was opening my mouth to speak...) "No, this one!" (this time pointing at the Dr. Pepper)

We'd been standing there with the door gaping, letting aaaall the cold out and getting looks from Vermonty hippies who couldn't decide if they hated me more for ruining the earth with that open door or for putting poison into my little angel in the form of high fructose corn syrup.

"No, those have caffeine, son, and we have to close this door.  You can get Sprite or Sunkist.  What's it gonna be?"

"Can I get this one?"  He was pointing again at the Mello Yello.  I guarantee you that though I didn't finish the word "Sprite" when he asked me about the Mello Yello before, he processed the connection still the same. 

"Yep, it's like Sprite; grab it, son."

"Is it like Sprite?" 

"Yes, it's lemony like Sprite. Closing this door now..."

Grabbing it, "Mmm, yum, I like Sprite!"

He's king of the Repeat You Question: 
"Levi, I'm going to go put Adelaide down."
"Are you going to put Adelaide down?"
(Sigh. Really?)

-OR-

"Levi, look!  That's a beaver dam!"
"Is that a beaver dam?"

But I digress.

So, we hustled through the checkout, maneuvered through the cold wind to the car, got everyone situated (Levi was talking the whole time, and as is custom, I just shut his door after strapping him into his seat.  He doesn't care, and I have the slight, awful satisfaction of just slamming a door in his face), gave Levi his drink, took a deep breath (as, surely, he would be silent to drink his drink for at least one whole minute), when...

"Is this drink like Sprite?" 
(Are you kidding me?)
"Yep, it's lemony like Sprite, baby.  Try it.  It's called Mello Yello."
"What?!"
"Mello Yello."
"Mello Yello?"
"Uh-huh."
"Why is it called Mello Yello?"
"Son, I don't know."  (Relaxing my shoulders)  "Probably because it's kind of yellow, and it's lemony."
"IS it called Mello Yello?"
"Yes."
Finishing his first drink, "Mmmm!  Yep, it IS Sprite!"
"Noooooo, it's Mello Yello.  It tastes like Sprite."  Now I was the one getting persnickity about details, but we'd started down this road, and the teacher-mom in me who values listening skills was not about to let this go without us all having a thorough working knowledge of Mello Yello and its relationship to Sprite.

All day, every day, folks!  We have these types of conversations one after the other on various and sundry topics of interest and no interest at all.  The thing is, Levi needs repetition right now.  Repetition is how this age group typically processes.  It is constant, though, so I've learned this:  If I need quiet to concentrate on a task at hand, and the professorial old man needs to vacate for a bit, I just tell Levi flat-out, "No questions, dude.  Mama's gotta think!"

When we got home, I had to go to the bathroom so badly, as is typical.  (There is a point to that odd confession, I promise.)  I rushed through the front door, clunked Adelaide's carseat down on the floor, and hustled into the bathroom, only to realize too late that there was pee all over the toilet, and now, all over me.  Levi.  Then, I noticed something odd about the little trash can on the floor.  This one hadn't been emptied in months, because we so rarely use it.  Until now.  It had finally gotten full enough to go out in Monday's trash and now sat with no trash in it.  Apparently, the clean canvas must have been too much for my creative little monkey to resist, because there was a puddle of pee at the bottom.  Lovely.

I never in a million years would've fathomed that I, one who enjoys solitude at regular intervals, would live with a person who harassed me with questions all. day. long. and who peed all over the bathroom.  And in the trashcan.  But here we are!  And it turns out that he is the coolest little man on the planet.  The conversations we have are some of the best, even when they're reminders that we may not(!!) pee all over the place and must, in fact, only aim for the toilet water. 

"For the toilet water?"
"Yes, Levi, just the toilet water..."

Coming to Terms with My New Love for (Cough) Daylight Savings Time

Have I gone completely mad?  How could I possibly love you, Daylight Savings Time?  I have always loathed you!  What would possess me to sigh a sigh of relief at your instigation?  You are, after all, a thief and a robber.  You stole my hour, but truly, thank you.

Jed and I are not ashamed to admit that we use fans and lightblock window coverings if that's what it takes for our kids to sleep and for us to get some rest.  Levi trained us to do this, and I won't get into the particulars, but I promise that I began with the greatest intentions of placing my babies out in the yard under full sun for their naps to train them to sleep through distractions with squinted eyelids and annoying noises clanging all around.  But as we grew desperate and clung to the edge of sanity with our fingernails, we decided to espouse the general "whatever it takes" when getting our kids to just sleep already.

Also, and this is both cool and alarming, but also, our latitude on the globe makes our winter days very short (meaning long nights where it's easy for us all to go to bed at 7 pm and sleep till 10 am like a family of grizzly bears) and our summer days loooong (as in, we're all yukking it up and playing games with the sun high in the sky, thinking about what's for dinner till the oven clock clocks us over the head for not noticing that it's 9 pm).  We rush the kids to bed, blink, then groggily battle Levi off of trying to wake us at 5 am when the sun is, again, high in the sky, streaming in happily whilst birds pretend it's a good time to sing cheerily.  Though the singing is beautiful, the timing is actually terrible, birds. 

So I thank you, Daylight Savings Time.  As our days have cycled back to growing longer, Levi has started to come into my room long before the clock has a 7 in the first position, and that has started, in its turn, to make me panic.  When you stole my hour, you traded me for something that I found highly worth it.  The hour of morning darkness you gave back to me definitely makes up for your insidious ways.  For now, things are sort of back to normal.  Meanwhile, the days will still keep getting longer (by June 21, my exaggeration above about long days will not really be that much of an exaggeration), and since there are no other opportunities to barter for more early morning darkness, I really just might have to put up the super heavy duty lightblock curtains in that boy's room. 

So shock of all shocks, I have grown fond of a sworn enemy.  I've found perhaps the one person other than the golf lobbyists who isn't totally put out by Daylight Savings Time this year.  And the fact that it's me makes me skeptical, not sure I even know myself anymore, a litte untrusting of what I might come up with next.

Today, Daylight Savings Time.  Tomorrow, who even knows?  Maybe I'll start using tanning beds and keeping frogs in the house.  Oh, no, wait, I do still have some limits firmly intact.  Whew!

So THAT'S Why Levi and Kelly Ripa Have the Same Body

A somewhat stream-of-consciousness post of musings on diet with regard to preschoolers and celebrities and, oddly, the similarities therein...

It begins with our Saturday morning yummy-breakfast ritual:  I put a little milk and a couple drops of almond extract into the raw eggs before I whisked them up and started dunking in bread for our French toast.  We had been talking about it all week:  French toast on Saturday while Jed takes our drummer out for breakfast.

I only had enough eggs to make three pieces, but I've been trying to cut back on lesser healthy foods, and Adelaide would only eat a little, leaving almost two pieces for Levi, who assured me he was very hungry.

"Very hungry" is quite relative, as Levi finished just ONE piece before announcing he was now "very full" and wanted a Fruit by the Foot.  Not gonna happen.  And how could he be full?  One piece does not satiate "very hungry," people!  (My cavernous appetite gets confused easily by those with a nonexistent one.)  When offered more French toast, though, he declined and decided on a piece of gum and play time.  So the French toast tally was

Mom: 1 piece, rather than the usual 15
Levi: 1 piece, however bizarre it might seem to me, albeit totally in keeping with his normal appetite
Adelaide:  just over 1/4 of a piece, atta girl!  She loved it.

So here's the point.  Levi eats like a bird!  He also loves healthy stuff.  One time, he asked for gummy bears, and it was just before lunch, so I said "no." 
"OK, then can I have some lettuce?"  he followed. 
"Um, yeah.  You can have some lettuce."  I blinked my eyes blankly before prepareing him a salad, which he devoured.

But that's when he does eat, which is actually very little.  Eating is somewhat of a distraction in his very busy schedule, and while he likes it just fine, he takes a few bites, then is ready to get back to more important matters.  This is why we can only buy pants with the inner elastic belt that we immediately cinch up several notches on both sides before even attempting to put them on him.  Like his dad, that one.

From http://www.usmagazine.com/
healthylifestyle/photos/bony-bikini-bodies-
2010211/6476

The thing is, he eats mints and mint gum like crazy.  We sort of put a cap on it, but he eats a lot.  It triggered something in my memory.  I read a few years ago in a magazine about a photo shoot with Kelly Ripa.  It stated that the shoot lasted about 8 hours, and while they had catering, she only had Altoids and water the whole day.  That's the Levi Diet!  No wonder she and he have the same wiry, lean body!  She has joked before that she has the body of a little boy, so I don't feel badly writing this.  I also am not actually saying that such a diet is a healthy, viable option, in case you're getting worried.  Just connecting the dots.  Celebrities must eat like small children to look the way they do.

An online Kids' Health site states that boys between 4 and 8 need between 1400 and 2000 calories a day, depending on activity level.  I'd wager that Levi is on the high end of activity and the low end of calories.  I saw this calorie recommendation and realized it's about the same for me.  And all this while, I'd been eating like a WWF wrestler.  Darn.  So maybe I should follow the Levi diet...eating exactly what he does.  (That's if I want to end up looking like a little boy... hmmm...) 

Of course, mints, juice, and running the equivalent of 5,000 miles a day, with the occasional lettuce and a Fruit by the Foot might work for Levi and Kelly Ripa, but I'm not quite sure it's for me.  Back to being reasonable...

I'm So Glad...I've Got a Head! And the Internet, Too.

For all the problems it can create, I think the Internet is fantastic and is certainly a part of God's ever-increasing Kingdom.  When seen as a tool, it's amazing. 

Levi's at the age where he's starting to ask more complicated questions about bones and the ground and spit and animals and you-name-it.  We're starting to mention things we know will blow his mind, like volcanoes and earthquakes, and suddenly he can't get enough of them.  And so it's to the Internet we go for information and, the holy grail, videos. 

Here are some videos that have been a great source of amusement and learning for Levi, and Adelaide loves most of them, too.

• Musical Fun:  This keeps both the kids wide-eyed and engaged to the end.  Now we sing this song to defuse crunchy situations of all kinds.  Jerry Lawson and Talk of the Town sing about body parts:
  
  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQ1UfcDgoBc
• Volcanic Eruptions!  You can find many more from this link as well...hours of fun.
  
  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0Zbj7S22zs&feature=related
• Snow-Plowing Train:  Trains are always a hit; this one busts through big piles of snow...bonus!
  
  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QenN5DVuLtw&NR=1
• Baby Octopus:  Levi asked how octopi move, and we looked it up.  These videos transifx me.
  
  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PqChAzqV_n4

These are a few of our favorites.  We've also looked up how starfish move and discovered their hundreds of wavy little feet, and we've weeded through much earthquake footage trying to find the really good stuff that isn't scary.  We've looked at the human skeleton and I can't think of what else, all in the past week or so. 

Having the Internet at our disposal is the perfect aid to satisfying a curious four-year-old, one that my grandmother never would've imagined.  Tell me if you and your kids don't get totally hooked on that Jerry Lawson song.

The Master Craft of Discipline and Training: Make a Memory!

The History

I grew up in a house where my dad wanted us to learn tremendous independence from a young age, and while he valued order, he wasn't quite sure how to require it.  He would often lose his temper, as many are prone to do, and I think he shrank back in the discipline department for fear of overdoing it.  I applaud him for that.  He overcame a pretty colorful childhood, and I mean all the worst colors, and I'm proud of him for that.  So we didn't learn much discipline from him. 

My mom will tell you to this day that she has no idea how to discipline and doesn't like doing it.  She is the sweetest person alive and gives generously of herself as she loves serving others.  Since kids love to be waited on hand and foot, my two older sisters and I sort of thought we hit the Kid Lottery there.  But again, not a lot of discipline came from that corridor either.

So now Jed and I have our own kids, and while we're drawing from all the amazing things my parents did for and were to us, and there are many (in addition to everything we've gleaned from his folks), we are sorting out on our own the Master Craft of Discipline and Training. 

The List

Here's what I know so far about the Master Craft of Discipline and Training (says the woman in training herself):

1. Always in love, always from the perspective that you're trying to help train the kid, and always telling them why they got in trouble and that you love them
2. Never out of anger...Being angry while you're disciplining is fine...doing so from an out-of-control need to satiate your anger not so much  (I think this is where my dad was trying to draw the line, and wisely so when he succeeded.)
3. One rule: obedience first.  Obviously, a well run household has a Basic Order list of rules to help bring understanding to your children.  But in our house, there's one overarching Daddy of All Rules:  Obedience First.  Do what I ask, then you can ask me about it, but first, do what I ask.  I've recently begun the "Try again" method.  If Levi decides to become chatty when given instruction, here's how it often goes. 
   Me:  "Levi, do 'this or that or whatever' please."
   Levi:  "Hey, Mommy..."
   Me:  "Try again."
   Levi:  "Mommy, but..."
   Me:  "Try again."
   Levi:  "Yes, ma'am." 
   This doesn't mean he doesn't have legitimate questions or something to explain.  He's free to explore those topics after he obeys.  If this sounds harsh, try being the boss of a grown man who never learned to follow directions, or visit training camp in the military and see if they waste lots of time discussing everyone's preferences. 
4. Basic Order list of rules:  those bits of commonsense guidance that help a kid know where the boundaries lie.  Think about what matters most to you when making these rules, things like manners, cleaning up, and so forth.  Also think about what would most benefit your kids to learn.  If you have strong-willed children, certain rules might be more important than those you would use for more compliant kids. 
5. BE CONSISTENT!  I'm not great at this, but at least I know it, so I'm getting better.  I've got to honor the rule every time, or Levi will see that sometimes it doesn't matter, which means every time is up for negotiation in his head.  Boo.  This is hard, especially when kids are just learning, because they love repetition and testing, so if you're consistent, you're pretty much a robot spouting the same tune over.  And over.  And over.  And....over.  Not fun, but necessary.
   
   MAKE.  A.  MEMORY!  It's the most beneficial bit of discipline wisdom by far, for me.
6. Make a memory!  This is a new one for me and is the most beneficial one, by far.  It's really the one that inspired me to write this post.  Give a consequence that really makes an impression, one your kid won't soon forget, or hopefully will never forget.  See anecdotes below.  I'm so glad for the Holy Spirit here.  How many times have I nearly pulled out my hair trying to get my son to understand?!
7. Be creative!  For #6 to work, you have to be open to all sorts of possibilities, and you cannot be a pansy.  Sometimes it really does hurt you more than they, and I'm not just talking about spankings.  This is another area when you take into consideration personality and preferences of your kid.  I have to get very creative with independent Levi.  I can already tell from Adelaide's personality that if I were to use on her some of the things I use on Levi, it would probably devastate her. 

The Anecdotes

Lists make it seem like the writer has it all perfectly down pat, especially when the writer always tends to come off as a Know-It-All (clearly someone other than I!), but I do not.  Knowledge is only half the battle, but it's been very cool for Jed and me as we have started treading this path and found ourselves quite dumbfounded quite often.  But here's what made me think of writing on this topic.

Levi has started this habit.  Whenever it's clean-up time, he's started to slump down and say, "I'm tired."  What?!  This is not the cheerful cleaner-upper attitude I've been trying to cultivate.  But had I been consistent about clean-up time all the time?  Next question please.  So I was wracking my brain for a way to make an impression, asking Holy Spirit to throw me a bone.  He did.  I said very calmly to Levi, "Oh, I'm sorry you feel so tired, especially during clean-up time which is a fun way to get our play area tidy and to take care of our very cool toys so they can last a long time.  If you're too tired to take care of your things, though, then they'll have to go away."  I began picking them all up and taking them to a storage spot out of his reach.  "Go lie down in your bed so you can get the rest you need."

Four-year-old panic.

This made an impression on him.  Now, that's the rule.  If he makes that excuse during clean-up time, the toys he doesn't care to tend to go away, and he goes to bed, two things he hates.  Meanwhile, I'm taking opportunity to come up with clean-up songs and to reinforce to him why it's not so bad after all if you know why you're doing it.  And sometimes we just have to do stuff when we'd rather do something else.  Welcome to life. 

I learned this tactic from my apostle who had the following experience with his son.  They were in a store, and his son saw a toy he liked.  They ended up getting him the toy, which every parent knows is a special, out-of-the-ordinary act of generosity and love.  But as they walked out of the store, his son began to say that he was kind of sad.  He really preferred another toy he'd seen in there.  Uh-oh.  My apostle immediately saw an opportunity to teach gratefulness.  "Coincidentally," and we know it was no such thing, a woman with a son the same age was walking past them to go into the store.  Apostle immediately caught her attention and asked her if they might give her son the toy that his son had.  She said that was fine, and my apostle's son had to hand over his new toy to that other little boy.  He was obviously very upset by it, but his dad had an opportunity to show him what it was to feel thankful about the gift he had been given.  Suddenly, that toy was special.  His son is now a 6-foot-tall 14-year-old who is well-mannered, obedient, funny, and happy, and he still remembers that day.  His dad made a memory, and he learned a very important lesson about being grateful and being content with what we have.

Parenting is tough!  I've written so much here, because Jed and I are on a big learning curve in this area, and it is constant.  It is the nature of what we do in everything we do with our kids, guiding them, shaping them, helping them to grow into productive, satisfied, helpful members of society.

It requires of us, and it requires that we search deep for what matters and what we can do to teach it.  It requires that we trust our instincts and the God that gave them to us, and it requires that we stand by what we know even when others cast judgement (not knowing our kid or all the facts!).  It requires that we realize we'll not be perfect, and that's OK. 

Thank God kids are malleable, and thank God they're resilient!  And thank God for the widsom and tenacity and hard-nosed pluck that smart parents cling to in order to complete the wonderful, and potentially earth-changing, task before them.

The End

The Small Joys of a Check-Up

I got in the car and felt a little giddy.  I was dressed.  I was out of the house.  I was alone.  I didn't have spit-up all over my shirt, at least as far as I could tell, and anyway, who cared? 

I don't have to stop and give the whole spiel about how awesome my kids are, do I?  Or that I absolutely cherish them and the blessing it is that I can be home to rear them just as we choose?  Or that I would never beg for something called "Me Time" that's become popular in our culture?  My whole life is mine and consists of the consequences of my own choices and cannot be compartmentalized.  But I also don't have to explain to any of you moms out there how great it is to do something else for a bit, whatever it might be.  However, I wasn't off to a spa day or anything fancy like that.

I had a doctor's appointment.  Not one for the kids, though, which is just crazy, but one of my own.  So I had to get a sitter for the kids, and our motherly, generous, and kind next-door neighbor agreed to come by and hang out with them while I was gone.  Walking out the door and hearing the mental noise clear, and continue to clear, slowly, until I could hear my own thoughts in tidy succession was as exhilarating as the frosty blast of air that froze my eyebrows and made me momentarily breathless.

My younger self would've seen a doctor's visit as necessary drudgery, but not this lady.  I left a little early.  I went by the gas station and got a cup of coffee, because I just hadn't gotten to my coffee pot this morning.  (I slept as late as I possibly could, because my adorable daughter wakes us constantly in the night when she's teething.)  So I got the coffee, then I drove just under the speed limit to get to the office.  I checked in, wandered around the waiting room, and enjoyed the view of the little pond outside the large picture window before settling down with a magazine. 

Once in the examination room, the nurse took my vitals, and I gave a relaxed mental shrug when I saw my current weight.  "Who cares.  I'm healthy," I told myself and sort of laughed at how age and children have matured my perspective and given me leave to breathe a bit.  After the nurse left, I sat alone and hoped the doctor would be late, or better, would forget about me and leave me sitting there in total quiet, sipping my coffee and looking around.  Maybe they'd go through their day somehow avoiding that room altogether, then at closing time, I could mosey out, smile my good-byes, and head home, leaving them with their confusion.

Well, the doctor came faster than she ever has.  I'd barely drunk any more coffee, and there she was.  But still, I love her, and it was a pleasure to answer her questions:  "Any unusual health things you want to discuss?  Do you still not smoke?  Do you still exercise?  How are things going?"  It was much more relaxing than the usual questions fired my way:  "Is poop from your food, and pee from your juice?  Would it hurt Adelaide if she falls off the bed, even though it doesn't hurt me?  Can I wear my underwear outside my pants?  [bursting into the bathroom] What are you doing?"  And so on.

Then, again in record time, the check-up was over.  I was ready to converse some more about my heart or anything, but I looked fit, and my doctor had other people to see. 

So I checked out, but I didn't leave.  Oh no.  I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, especially after two kids, but I'm no idiot.  I went back to the waiting room and sat down with Magazine and my coffee. It was all backwards, and I'm sure I got a few looks, but hey, I had given an estimated timeframe to our sweet neighbor, and I still had some sand in that hourglass.  Who of us would let such an opportunity go to waste?

Sitting in the quiet, sipping my coffee uninterrupted, and then just tossing Magazine back in the pile to still my mind and have a leisurely chat with God...It ended up being quite refreshing.  And much cheaper than a spa day.*


*If you are my husband reading this, please know that I am not making light of spa days and would much prefer it over a doctor's office visit if presented with a choice between the two.  FYI.