Mail from God

Yeah, okay.  Pretty cheesy title.  But I forgot to tell yall what happened about a week or two before we got Mr. Chonky.

This…

came in the mail.

Two free cans of formula. 

Similac formula that Mr. Chonky came home on from the hospital.

Bonky is four…do you know how long it’s been since we’ve done the formula thing???  We have no clue how we got this…at our new address…not even a ‘forward’ kind of thing. 

Mailed directly to me…with my name…at our new address.

Random, huh?

Ahem.

Moral of the story:  the next time God sends us formula in the mail, we’ll get busy on the nursery.

He makes me smile and I think He’s rather creative.

BonkLand and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day….and what may be the longest blog post ever

You know that children’s storybook called Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day?

Okay, so we had one of those days here at BonkLand yesterday.

Here’s the background:

On Sunday evening, the daddy started feeling less than fabulous.  Monday morning dawned and he felt like total dooky.  You know that sick feeling that makes you start promising God you’ll give away every single one of your possessions as well as every penny of your paycheck and you’ll go be a missionary in Africa?  Yeah…that kind of sick. 

He actually called and made an appointment with our doctor.  That’s about as likely to happen as Obama and Bush going golfing together.

Friends…it is RARE that the daddy goes to the doctor. 

So anyway…he headed to see Mrs. Dr. Lady and came home with two prescriptions and Strep Throat and maybe something else but I’m not sure cause I’ve slept since then.  He spent as much of the day in bed as three little ones allow and woke up on Tuesday still feeling sick, but could tell the meds were beginning to work. 

Well, on Monday morning as he was getting really sick, he asked me how I was feeling.  “Fine…nothing’s wrong.”  Well, that ‘fine’ feeling lasted about another three hours and then I began my own prayer time promising to sell all of our possessions, give every cent we have away and to relocate to Africa to do mission work.  I usually play the wait and see game a bit before I go to the dr, but seeing as the daddy had a real diagnosis and prescriptions, and that we have three little people that we don’t want to share any of the yuckiness with, I decided to call and make an appt., too.

Usually I go to appts by myself with kiddos (is that an oxymoron?)  b/c while the daddy’s employer is rather pleasant and understands the importance of family, they pay him to do something other than leave work during the day.  But, he decided to come home yesterday and let me go to the doctor sans little people.

It turns out that was a good thing.

As the doctor and her helper people poked, prodded, and rubbed long pokey sticks into every hole in my head, it turns out it was good I went to the doctor.

Strep Throat.

A “bad” ear infection. (doctor’s words, not mine)

And a resting heart rate of 139.  (a result of dehydration)

Apparently your heart rate isn’t supposed to be over a hundred.  So Mrs. Dr. Lady wasn’t particularly excited with my 139.

So, she hauled my bobo down to another room, locked me in it and hooked me up to ivs where I got some lovely iv fluids and antibiotics.  Minus feeling like total dooky and the ‘pokey sticks’ (needles) as Mr. Bonk calls them, I had a rather pleasant time as I texted and Facebooked people on my iPhone and read a new Karen Kingsbury book while sipping on bottled water from Mrs. Dr. Lady.  : )

I left Mrs. Dr. Lady’s office with two prescriptions and headed to drop them off at the pharmacy.

In the midst of the doctor’s visit, our Chonkerella had her scheduled visit with her birth parents.  Normally we take her to the visit so that CPS doesn’t have to transport her, but yesterday we needed them to transport.

So Ms. CPS Lady who I am convinced hates us showed up, loaded up our precious Chonkerella and headed back to the CPS office.

45 minutes later I am sitting on the couch reminding God that I have promised to give away my possessions, money, and to commit my life to mission work if He’ll please make me feel better..and wondering why He has not zapped me into a healthy state again. 

Okay, just kidding.  I know God isn’t a genie.

Anyway…the phone rings and it’s Chonkerella’s CPS worker who I have never talked to.

And here’s our conversation.

CPS Worker Lady: “Hi, this is Ms. CPS Worker Lady for Chonkerella.  She has a bump on her head and her eyes are rolling back into her head.  We need her insurance card b/c we’re taking her to the ER.  Do you have it?”

Me: “A BUMP ON HER HEAD???  Did something happen to her during her visit with her birth parents?” (fully realizing they think we harmed Chonkerella)

CPS Worker Lady: “We don’t know.  But we’re taking her to the ER.  Do you have her insurance card?”

Me:  “No.  It hasn’t come in the mail yet.  I have her number, but not the card.”

CPS Worker Lady: “Okay, thanks.  Bye.”

Me: “Uh, would you please call me as soon as you know what is wrong?”

CPS Worker Lady: “Yeah, we will.”

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

She then calls back and asks for one of us to come up to the hospital which we were going to do anyway.  The daddy leaves work and heads up there where he has the pleasure (insert: sarcasm) of meeting the birth parents.  Yeah…the birth parents who aren’t supposed to know who we are…and the ones who have accused us of harming their child.

Nice.

Sweet Baby Chonkerella is examined by the doctor and he kindly informs CPS and the birthparents that the ‘bump on her head that’s causing her eyes to roll back in her head’ is her skull. 

Plain and simple. 

Her skull…growing the way that normal baby heads grow. 

They did a brain scan, too, and nothing showed up there, either.

You know what else that doctor said?  “It is obvious that this baby has had excellent care.”

Now…we don’t know this doctor…but if I did, I’d kiss him.  THANK YOU, GOD, for a doctor who saw the TRUTH in this situation and called it like it was.

Friends, you have no idea what it did to this mama and daddy’s hearts to be accused of injuring our baby girl to the point of a bump on her head that makes her eyes roll back in her head…And to think about the fact that CPS would remove both her and Chonky…and they could have removed Bonky, as well, if they thought we were abusive.  We would have lost our foster/adopt license, too.

The blessing in this mess is that our agency (we use an agency instead of working directly with CPS) was FABULOUS and the first words out of our worker’s mouth were “You need to know we are 100 percent behind you guys.”  They went on to say later that not a single person in their office believed there was any merit to Chonkerella suffering any injuries while in our care.

This post is already waaaaayyy too long so I won’t explain, but as the events of yesterday unfolded, it turns out that CPS did not act within their own policies and guidelines and did not handle the situation appropriately.  There is supposed to be a meeting between our agency and CPS to address those concerns.

Meanwhile…THANK YOU GOD for protecting us, our baby girl, our foster/adoption license, and for TRUTH coming out. 

Our Sweet Baby Girl is home safe and sound, eating and sleeping and looking utterly adorable in her head bands with bows.

And bracelets on her sweet little wrists. 

She’s just plain yummy.

 

 PS: Just to clarify: We completely understand the need to check on the safety and health of a child.  We understand there are way too many bad foster homes where children are not loved and cared for.  We understand CPS has to cover their behinds and that they must show respect to birth parents.  It would, however, be nice if foster parents were showed the same respect…and if they had acted in accordance with their own policies and procedures.  But alas, we are all human.  Mistakes happen.  And in the end, the truth came out.  Thank you, God.

Under the Watchful Eye of the Bonky

We recently had our den’s fireplace redone.  It was, uh, shall we say, well, butt ugly.

No, really.  It was.

Look…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was concerned that Mr. Contractor and his friends wouldn’t diligently work to complete the task.

Until Mr. Bonk stepped onto the scene. 

Under his watchful eye, it finally…and I do mean…FINALLY…got done.

Speedy was not exactly the name of the game.

But it’s finally done.  And Mr. Jade Green Fireplace  is no longer assaulting my eyes.  Nor is his friend, Mr. 1992 Mirror.

And that makes my eyes sing.

And someday I will take an ‘after’ picture so that your eyes will sing, too. 

Okay, maybe they won’t.

But both my eyes and the daddy’s eyes are singing.

A Blast From the Past In Honor of Mr. Bonk Hitting the Big 4 Very Soon…

 

This mama’s heart is quite happy he has not outgrown

these blue eyes…

Not has he outgrown his ability to smile so freely and easily.

He’s one in a quadrabazillion.  At least.

 

Oh how this boy melts my heart!

This…

This is the same chest where my head has rested.

Many times.

Behind closed doors.

With tears.

And questions.

And more tears and questions.

About why this road has been so hard.

So painful.

So confusing.

 

But Today…

These two sweet little ones rest their heads.

It’s their soft spot to fall.

 

Oh God, please, please don’t let it change.

Mr. Sumo

Mr. Chonk and his Similac are getting along swimmingly.  Let’s just say preemie clothes are a thing of the past for my chocolate baby boy.

Oh, how I wish yall could see his face.

Oh. My. Word.

Those chocolate eyes.  That afro head of his.  And the emerging double chin.

I just can’t get enough of this boy.

And She Shall Be Called…

Chonkerella.

This house is oozing with cuteness.

She is a foster placement for now…we’ll see what the future holds.  It’s a daily, often hourly exercise of choosing not to let my mind go to the ‘what ifs’.  Times two.  For Chonkerella and Chonky.

She came into our family last Thursday night.  And she is a doll.

Which is good.

Cause she has to be in order to hang with Bonky and Chonky!    : )

This house is oozing with cuteness.

And poop-filled diapers.

And laundry.

And plenty of hours of awake time when the rest of the world is sleeping.  : )

This house is oozing with cuteness.

A Picture For Your Thoughts

Oh Those Boys

I am a girly girl.  I like pretty things.  Flowers make me happy.  I love pedicures and manicures and massages and shopping and getting my hair done at a salon.

But I love having boys of my own. 

Love. Them. 

I love that they make ‘vrooommm’ sounds before they talk.  I love that they wrestle and climb on things. (within reason of course).  I love that they are ‘tough’.  I love that they think ‘excuse me’ after they burp makes the burp a ‘non-issue’. 

They just make me giggle.  And when a Bonky says something like “But Daddy, how do I keep those farts away?” I just loose it and laugh uncontrollably.

I have learned since marrying a boy and becoming a mom to two boys, that peeing in the great outdoors is a right of passage.  A ‘man card’ cannot be issued until this event happens.  It’s just something a boy has to do.

And I’m good with that. 

And although I didn’t actually acquiesce, I was tempted to give in when Mr. Bonk excitedly requested a second Dr. Pepper so he could ‘water the grass’ at my parent’s friend’s ranch a few months back.

Normally when I travel alone with the boys, I take a small potty for Mr. Bonk to use b/c I don’t like standing on the side of the road with Chonky in the car, Bonky and me outside the car, and cars flying past us.  I am convinced someone will stop and steal both Bonky and me and then Chonky will have to fend for himself alone in the car.  Irrational?  Yes, of course.

But I am a girl.  And I am a mother.  Need I say more???

So it is much simpler to just have a little potty in the car.

Well, recently (and before Chonky’s arrival at BonkLand) Mr. Bonk and I were on a road trip with Mama Marge, Aunt Marge and Sister Marge. 

And of course Bonky decided he needed to pee.  It’s what he looks forward to during road trips.  I was sitting in the front of the car…Bonky and Mama Marge and Aunt Marge were in the back. 

Sister Marge pulled over and opening my door to assist Bonky with his ‘watering of the grass’, Aunt Marge said…”Don’t worry.  I’ll help him.”

I assume this means they will both exit the car and proceed with the watering. 

Wrong.

I turned my head to find Mr. Bonk standing on the door jam of the car aiming his business out into the great outdoors and thoroughly enjoying watering the grass. 

He was grinning ear to ear…and laughing hysterically the entire time.  You know that “deep, all-boy, I’m totally getting away with something” kind of laugh?

Yep—that one.  That described Bonky to a ‘T’.

So how could I – if I am to win Mother of the Year Award – deny him the privilege of watering the grass???

Exactly.

I just couldn’t do it.

So I did what every classy mother does and I just busted out laughing at his enthusiasm.

Now…fast forward two weeks or so to the local community center where Bonky takes his Swimnastics class. 

He had finished his class and I was holding Chonky with one arm and was holding Bonky’s hand with my other arm/hand.  I opened Bonky’s door and he climbed in.

I walked to the other side to load Chonky  and what do I look up to see?

Well, that would be my son, pants down, standing in the door jam of our SUV, taking aim.

Remember: this is at the LOCAL COMMUNITY CENTER IN THE PARKING LOT…surrounded by other vehicles with other parents leaving the center with their children in tow.

Me: “BONKY!  Uh, what are you doing?”

Bonky: “I gotta go pee-pee, Mama.”  (duh, Mama)

Me: “Not out of the car, you don’t!”

I quickly deposited Chonky into his car seat and ran to the other side to intervene in Mr. Bonk’s watering plans.  Even interrupting mid-stream was better than doing nothing, but luckily I made it in time.

Me: “Bonky…we can’t pee outside the car here at swimnastics.”

Bonky: “Why not?”

Me: “Uh, well because we don’t pee in parking lots with other people around and we’re only 5 minutes from home.”  (I am pretty sure that’s what the “When It Is Acceptable to Pee Outside” rulebook says.)

Bonky: “Awww, man!!!”

Me: “I know, Buddy.  Major bummer, huh?!”

Bonky: “Yeah, it is!”

As much as this mama loves having boys, I cannot allow peeing out of the car at the local com center.

That, my friends, is crossing the line.

Even for this lover of all things boy.  Or at least ‘all things boy’ as it relates to mine.  :)

The Chonkitos Update

Last week the judge ruled that our little Chonkitos return home to their birth mom…rules were established to hopefully aid their transition home and help the birth mom become the kind of parent Chonkita and Chonkito deserve.

While it was a very challenging two weeks for the daddy and me, it was difficult to see them go.  We learned valuable lessons.  Too many to share. 

We were reminded God must be the guide for each step we take in this parenting journey.  And we desperately need Him.  His wisdom.  His resources.  Everything about Him we need.  We were reminded of how much these little ones matter.  To us.  And to the God who made all of us. 

We were challenged to love when love is not always given back.  In fact, when anger and hate might be the reciprocation for being the kind of parent you know they need.  But also…seeds of hope…that despite the damage inflicted on these little ones from those who should have kept them safe and loved, healing is possible.  Smiles do creep in.  Giggles can happen.  Boundaries and structure start to get welcomed in just a little more…not all the time, but bit by bit it happens.  One step forward.  Two steps back.  One step forward. 

Progress. 

Maybe not on our time table, but progress nonetheless.

And times of introspection bring:

Thoughts of whether or not the adults involved in their lives will truly change.

Thoughts on what else these little ones will have to go through that no child should ever have to experience.

Hope and prayers that a safe, healthy future where they are loved and nurtured will become a reality for them.

Hope settles in that in the middle of our imperfection as parents…that we were able to plant seeds of what love looks like…from us…and even more importantly what The God who made them looks like.

Say a prayer for them, would you?

Labels

Special Needs.

It’s just a label.  Some way for people to explain what is ‘wrong’ with our baby boy.

We have a ‘special needs’ baby. 

Special needs.

That what the ‘paperwork’ says at least.  That’s what the workers say. 

You guys know me well enough to know that I am not one to share the private details of our kiddos lives.  Their stories are just that…their stories.  And while there may come a day when I share more about Mr. Chonky and his story, for now it is a story that remains tucked into the private quarters of our lives.  Of course, we’re also now in a position where we must honor our agency’s wishes on confidentiality.  And you know…we’re okay with that honestly.

So…this ‘special needs’ baby of ours…came into our home as a result of his special needs.

Funny how God works.

People don’t exactly line up to deal with what his paperwork says.

Before you think I am patting ourselves on the back, it has been a change that only God could orchestrate.  It has nothing to do with us.

And two and a half years ago, when for the first time  we were checking off boxes of ‘special needs’ we were open to, neither of us would have checked off anything that would have resulted in us being blessed with a baby like Chonky.  Those needs were for someone else to consider…not us. 

Funny how God works.

But two and a half years into this journey and I can say that God has thoroughly wrecked what our ‘adoption profile’ said.

And I’m pretty sure He is not done wrecking it.  Or us.  And if I’m honest, it sometimes scares me where He may take us.

But back to this Chonky of ours.  You know what?  I could not be more happy that He did.  That He wrecked us. Because then our profile was a whole lot more about being dominated by fear and what ifs.

And we would have have missed this…

About opening our home to things we could control.  Or at least thought we could control.

I laugh at that.  Because seriously…what can you really control???  Very little.  And very little in adoption.

If there’s anything we’ve learned this last two and a half years, it’s that we don’t control anything.  Not a thing.

We have no. idea. what the future holds for Chonky. 

Gosh, we don’t even know if his permanent future will be here with us.  Oh man, do we yearn for that and pray toward that end.  But it may not be.

We don’t know what God may choose to heal him from.  To redeem him from.  To restore him from.  However you want to say it.

Not. A. Clue.

Maybe everything.  Maybe nothing  --  this side of eternity.

But of this we are sure:

God has so thoroughly and completely wrapped this baby boy into our lives that we know one thing for certain.

There could never be a more beautiful him.

Never.

And we never would have wanted to miss out on him.

Cause of a ‘label’.

Never.

Bonky Quote of the Day:

This boy…

Yeah, this one…

This boy who just today said “I’m so glad you’re my mama.” …

Earlier this week said (in response to the daddy telling him to uh, well, quit farting at the dinner table…)

“But daddy, how do I keep those farts away?”

And because I have little self-discipline when it comes to my Bonky making me laugh, I immediately turned my head away, and gave the daddy a look that said “See ya.  You’re on your own!” and I left the table.

To do something mature.

Like bust out laughing.

It’s a valid question, no???

A Little Piece of Heaven…

You're a little piece of heaven
You're a golden ray of light
And I wish I could protect you
From the worries of this life
But if there's one thing I could tell you
It's no matter what you do
Hold to Jesus
He's holding on to you

The world will try to tell you
That might is more than right
That beauty's on the outside
And being good's a losing fight
But remember what I've told you
Because the world will make you choose
Hold to Jesus
He's holding on to you

Hold on to Jesus
Cling to His love
Rest deep in His mercy
Whenever things get rough
Don't lose sight of His goodness
And don't ever doubt this truth
That when you hold on to Jesus
He's holding on to you

Hear me dear Jesus
Rock this little one to sleep
Keep him close when he’s scared
And give him grace when he is weak
I know he'll stumble
But I know he'll make it through
If you hold to him just like
You said You'd do
Hold him Jesus
And he'll hold on tight to You

http://www.christianlyricsonline.com/artists/erin-odonnell/hold-on-to-jesus.html

Just In Case You Thought…

I had let myself go in light of our recent requiring constant attention additions, I just wanted to assure you I remain committed to taking good care of myself.

The daddy has been away on business, but as soon as I texted him these pictures, be assured he was reminded his place is at home.

Ahem.

Happy Halloween!

Four Weeks Today

A sweet, sweet baby boy took his first breath.

Happy Four Week Birthday, My Sweet Chonky.

I can see the fingerprints of God all over your tiny little life.

Some have commented how blessed you are to be in our family.

A kind comment that is well-intended.

But they have it completely wrong.

We are the privileged.

We are the blessed.

Privileged and blessed to be a part of all the days written for you by our Great God.

Despite the circumstances surrounding your birth into your biological family…Never spend a minute doubting how deeply loved and wanted you are.

…Never spend a minute thinking you are anything less than a beautiful chocolate-skinned baby boy with a great plan for your life written out by a Magnificent God.

…Never doubt for a minute that there isn’t a Mama and Daddy that laid awake many, many nights dreaming about what you’d look like, how you’d smell, how soft your skin would be, how you’d take our breath away, and who prayed for you many, many times.

…Never doubt for a minute that we will go thru the fire for you. However many times we need to.

…Never doubt that we are flat-out, a thousand times over, heart-stopping, completely and utterly in. love. with. you.

We love you, sweet boy.  You are living, breathing proof of God’s grace and His goodness to us.  And we simply cannot get enough of you. 

You’re simply magnificent.

Well now...it's time for my 'A Game'

Let's just say that an almost four-year old Bonky plus a 4-week-old Chonky plus a 2-year-old Chonkito (hispanic little boy) and a 7-month-old Chonkita (hispanic little girl) means this Mama better have her  "A Game" on...and, uh, blogging doesn't quite figure into the equation.

Yes, you read that correctly.  Holy Smokes.  We've added a Chonkito and a Chonkita to BonkLand.  It will likely be a temporary placement, but for now, this mama is staying rather busy.

Ahem.

This afternoon's activities involve gently reminding a certain little Chonkito that nap time is indeed going to be a reality.  He's still not convinced.

And well, perhaps, when we enter into the 20s...as in...the number of times I have scooped him back up and tucked him into bed, we'll come to an understanding.

Please excuse me while I go tuck Mr. Chonkito back into bed.

This is time number 15 or so for those keeping track.

Hey, come to think of it.  Maybe we can work on counting as we play Battle of the Wills over naptime.

Oh, by the way.  We're now at 17 I think...I had to take a blogging break and return my little Chonkito to his sleeping quarters a few more times.

Again.

Back to our counting lesson.

Attempt Number One.

Attempt Number Two.

Attempt Number Three.

...

...

...

Attempt Number 392.

Attempt Number 409.

Wish me luck.

Or pray for the God of All Sleep to grant me wisdom.  :)

PS: For those wondering how Mr. Bonk is faring.

Well, he's taken to his big brother role quite swimmingly.

He even offered to put Mr. Chonkito back into his room and close the door for me.

And said to let him know next time he came out cuz he'd be happy to help me.  I think the exact quote was "Can I help you next time???"

Well now, what a guy!  Always willing to step in and help.  :)  A quick reminder about who the Mama was served it's purpose. 

Oh wait...

One more number update.

We're somewhere around 18 or so...

Sweet dreams to those of you with sleeping Bonkies, Chonkies and Chonkitos and Chonkitas.

More Than All Of The Chocolate Milkshakes…

1/2 of the equation that makes my heart explode regularly.

Have I mentioned how much I love this kid?

Cuz seriously…I am head-over-heels-in-love with this blue-eyed-Bonky.

Dear Bonky:

I love you more than all of the chocolate milkshakes in the world.

Love, Mama

Heart to Heart

The Finer Things In Life

As parents, we feel compelled to introduce our Bonkies and Chonkies to the finer things life offers.

Yep, that’s Mr. Bonk’s own cup of Joe. (Hot Cocoa)

Why would we buy Mr. Bonk his own cup?

The real question is…Why would we not???  : )

Nice To See You Again, Mr. Gecko: The Return

Tonight I enjoyed a refreshing walk in the cool evening air with Michael Buble and Steven Curtis Chapman.  Thanks, fellas.  It’s always a pleasure to walk with you.  And your music never fails to make my heart happy.

However, my enjoyable evening was interrupted by the return of Mr. Gecko…you know…that guy…while I was watering plants on the porch.

How did I know it was him???

Well…check out the ‘tailtale’ sign…

He’s a rather brave and forgiving fella to come back on the premises, don’tcha think?

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

Dear Mr. Gecko:

It was nice to visit with you for a bit this evening…OUTDOORS.  I do hope your severed tail has been laid to rest with a proper burial and that you can do that thing you do and grow a new one.

I feel compelled to warn you, however:  If, upon the growing of a new tail, you choose to enter my house again, I will—without any qualms—sever your newly grown tail…head straight for the needle-nosed pliers, skipping over the Dyson, and once more usher you into the hereafter.

And when we meet again, I will indeed wave to you…and relish in the fact that you can no longer wave at me.

Signed,

The Mama—aka Gecko Hunter

Bonky Hands, Chonky Feet

 

Look how tiny Chonky’s feet are in Bonky’s hands…

By the way…no Chonky feet were harmed in the shooting of these photos…

Nice To Meet You, Mr. Gecko

The week before last when we found out we had less than 24 hours before Chonky’s arrival, I was doing a mad dash around the house to tidy up…

Bonky was at the table working on – well, frankly, I can’t remember, but I am sure it was something very productive, something demonstrating his high level of creativity and brilliance…you know, something like that.

Preparing Bonky's room for a quick vacuum, I picked up his beanbag only to be greeted with a standing salute from Mr. Gecko.  Or Mrs. Gecko.  I didn’t look between his/her legs to check for the tell tale signs of femininity or masculinity.  So, we’ll just call him Mr. Gecko.

Standing there waving his right arm at me, I had only moments to choose between peeing on myself and figuring out how to remove Mr. Gecko from BonkLand.  Well, at least relocate him to the outdoor BonkLand.

You see, usually when Mr. or Mrs. Gecko or their kin make an appearance, I do something like scream and plant myself in the middle of the bathroom counter and then scream some more until the daddy comes in armed with his gecko trap issue a polite request to Mr. Gecko that he sit still while I calmly go find the daddy and ask him to remove Mr. Gecko from BonkLand at his earliest convenience.

But I was on my own with this one.

And because I am such an astute observer of gecko catchers, I knew my plan of attack—however hard it might prove to be:

Grab a cup and a piece of mail, slam the cup over Mr. Gecko and then slide the piece of mail under the cup to trap Mr. Gecko.

Walk quickly thru the house to the door with my arms extended out like Inspector Gadget.

And then free Mr. Gecko in the great outdoors.

Well now…here’s where the plan went awry and the situation turned into a Code Yellow (Code Yellow for…I’m about to pee in my pants if someone doesn’t help me…).

You see, as I gently placed slammed the cup over Mr. Gecko it seems that my aim was slightly off resulting in the severing of Mr. Gecko’s tail.

Remember when that weird science teacher in 6th grade told you that lizard tails keep moving even upon being severed???

Well, it turns out that weird science teacher was right.

And friends, let me point out that the tail doesn’t just simply move a little bit for a second or two.

No…it moves about 478 mph and as it turns out it has quite a lengthy life span.

Mr. Gecko Tail planted himself firmly in the carpet trying to disguise itself as a carpet fiber.  Except his plan to disguise himself wasn’t successful because I am an astute observer of carpet fibers and know that they don’t WAVE AT ME.

That’s right, folks.  Mr. Gecko’s severed tail squeezed itself in-between two carpet fibers and proudly waved himself at me.

THE FREAKING GECKO WAS MOCKING  ME.

Well…not a problem.  I can still handle this—or so I told myself.   Mr. Gecko’s tail could not possibly be a match for the Dyson vacuum, right???  Turns out that stupid vacuum that the daddy sold  a lung to pay for can’t suck a gecko tail out of the carpet.  Isn’t it supposed to suck up bowling balls or something???  Or maybe that’s the Oreck. 

Anyway.

Time to call the daddy now, folks.

Me: “HUSBAND, THERE’S A 43 FOOT LONG GECKO IN BONKY’S ROOM AND I CHOPPED HIS TAIL OFF.  WELL, I DIDN’T REALLY MEAN TO, IT JUST HAPPENED.  AND NOW HE’S WAVING AT ME, NOT WAVING AT ME LIKE HE’S WAVING HIS WHITE FLAG OF SURRENDER.  HE’S WAVING AT ME LIKE ‘HEY MORON…YOU CAN’T CATCH ME!’  AND EVEN THE DYSON WON’T SUCK HIM UP!’

The Daddy: “Is there blood on the carpet?”

Me: “IS THERE BLOOD ON THE CARPET???”

Me: “I AM HERE ON THE HOMEFRONT FACING DOWN A GECKO AND HIS SEVERED TAIL AND YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT THE CARPET????”

The Daddy: “Yep.”

Me: “YOU DON’T REALLY LOVE ME, DO YOU?”

The Daddy: (in a monotone) “Just go get a Kleenex and pick it up.”

Me: “GET A KLEENEX AND PICK IT UPPP?????  ARE YOU CRAZY???  YOU’RE NO HELP.  I AM NOT…AND I REPEAT…NOT GOING TO PICK IT UP.”

So I then did what any mature wife does. 

I hung up on him.

There’s no use wasting my time listening to a man who knows my normal contribution in de-gecko-ing the house is to sit in the middle of the counter and scream…and he’s now telling me to pick it up after asking about blood on the carpet???

… Apparently he didn’t take his brain with him to work that day.

(Deep. Cleansing. Breath.)

I am officially on my own now.

A moment to ponder the complexity of my situation resulted in a brilliant idea to get pliers.  Needle-nosed pliers.

Oh friends…I have never loved a pair of needle-nosed pliers more.

So, armed with the pliers and 17 feet of toilet paper, I extracted Mr. Gecko’s tail from the carpet with the precision of a brain surgeon.

Deciding I just had to look at my catch, I glanced down with only one eye open and Mr. Gecko’s Tail was FLIPPING SIDE TO SIDE like a fish out of water!!!!

GASP!

(Dear Jesus, please don’t let me pee on myself.  The daddy is already worried about blood on the carpet from Mr. Gecko’s severed tail and he won’t believe me if I tell him Bonky peed on the carpet and not me.)

Uttering my ‘amen’, I walked quickly to Bonky’s bathroom and let Mr. Gecko Tail take a nice little swim in the potty.

And then as any committed blogger does, I realized I needed pictures of this momentous occasion.  So I dropped the toilet paper and pliers and ran and got my camera.

And when I came back to the potty to inspect Mr. Gecko’s tail before our little photo session???

He was STILL WAVING AT ME.

WAVING. AT. ME. FROM. THE. POTTY.

So I extended the same courtesy and waved back as the flush ushered him into the hereafter.

My face upon discovery of Mr. Gecko

Do you see Mr. Gecko Tail???  He’s that little dark line floating merrily around…

Prepare to meet your Maker…

And now…a sigh of relief…

And he shall be called…

CHONKY…

Why Chonky???

Beautiful Chocolate Skin + Bonky = Chonky

Guess What???

He. Is. Simply. Divine.

 

Many ponderings stored up in my heart. 

When I can articulate them with some semblance of clarity I will.  It’s a story that reminds us in the brokenness, God is present and is working.  Always.

Until then…pray that the future of this sweet baby might be that he forever lives at BonkLand.  He could go back to his birth family.

On paper…he is our foster son.  In our hearts…he is our son.  In every sense.

He had us at hello.  Oh my…did he ever have us at hello…

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

To HIM be all glory…He has left me breathless.

How A Bonky Makes Applesauce

Bonky and I decided it was a grand day to make some tasty applesauce in our Crockpot.

Well actually…he was playing…and I said “Let’s make some yummy applesauce.”

And he said…”I’m playing…”

And I said “Let’s make applesauce.”  :)

And then because I am such a good mom I told him he could help me cut the pieces.

And the thrill of spending time with his mama that he loves so deeply practicing his knife skills won out over playing Legos.

Now before I proceed, you have to know that the Bonky is very into making things talk.

Stuffed animals.

Legos.

Cars.

Food.

Trucks.

Lincoln Logs.

Trains.

Everything. Talks.

So it comes as no surprise that we had the following conversation with pieces of apple that were going into the applesauce.

Bonky (holding a piece of apple): “NO! NO! I DON’T wanna go into the Crockpot!”

Bonky (replying to himself…or rather…the other piece of apple): “But you HAVE to go into the Crockpot!”

Bonky (telling me to talk, too): “Because WE’RE MAKING APPLESAUCE and you’re GOING INTO THE CROCKPOT.”

Mama: “NOOOOOOOO!  DON’T PUT ME IN THERE!  PLEASE, NO!!!! DON’T DO IT!”

Bonky: “HA HA HA HA HA…YOU’RE GOING IN THERE…NOOOOOWWWW!”

Mama: “BUT I DON’T WANT TO GO IN THERE!  I WANNA STAY IN THE REFRIDGERADOR!”

Bonky: “NO WAY—YOU’RE GOING IN!  MUUUUAAAAHHHHHHH!”

 

And then as we were slicing apples…

 

Me: “OH NO!  DON’T CUT ME!  OUCH!”

Bonky: “But you have to be smaller to go into the crock-pot!”

Me: “NOOOOOO!  DON’T SLICE ME!  OUCH!”

Bonky: “YEP…You’re GOING IIIIIIIINNNNNN!  And you’ll NEVER be a big apple AGAIN!  MUUUAAAHHHHH!”

Is this normal? 

Is it any wonder that my child does this???  My parents are shaking their heads as they read this…because…well…they spent 18 years listening to me talk. 

Frankly…this boy cracks me up.  And only he can turn apple slicing into an opportunity for apple discourse.

______________________________________

And now some pictures of our festivities…b/c what’s a day without a picture of Bonky??? 

And one final story…

Recently Mr. Bonk has been further developing his ability to reason.  I’m in trouble folks because his arguments make sense.  And he’s not yet four.

I’m  often struck by his creative reasoning as demonstrated during our applesauce-making-adventure.

I noticed that a number of apples were making their way into a certain Bonky’s mouth…and so as to provide the response he was looking for, I acted quite shocked and appalled.

And he, of course, was wholly delighted with himself.

Then he told me that the apple pieces were too large.

His solution: take bites off of each piece before he dropped them into the Crockpot.

Rather creative and it works for me. 

He’s totally headed for the Gifted and Talented Program.

 

About that Tae Kwon Do…

Don’t let that scrumptious picture fool you.

I’m gonna keep it real and tell you that Mr. Bonky HATES Tae Kwon Do.

No, seriously.  He really does.

Hates. It.

Today’s quote?  “I don’t like Tae Kwon Do and I don’t want you to take me there.”

Well alrighty then.

A+ on his communication skills, huh?

But seriously…he looks so stinkin’ cute in his outfit and there is just something about watching an almost four-year-old do Tae Kwon Do moves that makes me giggle.

Except for the fact that he hates it.

So I don’t really giggle much anymore.

Today I heard about Swimnastics lessons given at the local community center.

Considering that Bonky spent many an evening at our neighborhood pool and that we had to drag him out of the water…

And considering that he can do a rockin’ somersault on the couch despite the fact that he’s been told 437 times that the couch is not for somersaulting maneuvers…

I’m thinking we may be retiring the Tae Kwon Do outfit as cute as it is.

And Swimnastics might be filling our afternoons a couple days a week instead of focusing our efforts on turning him into ‘The Karate Kid’. 

Or the ‘Tae Kwon Do Kid’ for those stuck on correct terminology.

‘Bonk’ Kwon Do

There is no need to comment except to say that Mr. Bonk is indeed the most scrumptious Tae Kwon Do student I have ever seen.

What Storytime In BonkLand Sounds Like

A few minutes ago, Mr. Bonk went down for his ‘quiet time’…sometimes he sleeps, sometimes he plays…either is fine.  He comes out of his break recharged which is the whole point.

So anyway…

This afternoon I pulled out a Cars book to read to him before quiet time.  It’s one of his older books and doesn’t have quite enough ‘meat’ to the story, but he loves Cars so we were going to read it anyway.

Here’s how ‘story time’ went down.

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

Me: (reading the story) “Lightning McQueen was a very fast race car.”

Bonky: “Why was he a fast race car?”

Me: “Because he had a really strong engine and strong tires.”

Me: (continuing to read) “But he didn’t have any friends.”

Bonky: “Why didn’t he have any friends?”

Me: (deciding to make this a teaching moment) “Probably because he wasn’t kind to his friends.  He probably didn’t share very well, he probably didn’t use a very nice tone when he talked to his friends…that kind of thing.”

Me: (continuing to read): “All he cared about was winning the big race and becoming famous.”

Bonky: “Why did he want to win and become famous?”

Me: (tickling him and telling him to listen to the story) “BONKY!  I don’t know why he wanted to win and be famous…let’s READ the story and find out!”

Bonky: (giggling)

Me: (continuing to read) “To become the new champ, McQueen had to beat the old champ, The King.”

Bonky: (giggling) “Why did he have to beat the old champ?”

Me: (lots more tickles) “Because there could be only one champ.”

Me: (continuing to read) “Nothing would stop McQueen—not even Chick Hicks and his mean tricks!”

Bonky: (giggling) “Why would nothing stop Chick Hicks?”

Me: (LOTS more tickles and giggles…) “LET’S READ AND FIND OUT!”

Me: (continuing to read) “But at the finish line, there was a three-way tie!”

Bonky: (giggling) “Why was there a three-way tie?”

Me: (giggling) “BONKY!”

Bonky: (giggling)

Me: (continuing to read) “The King, Chick Hicks, and Lightning McQueen would have to race again in California.”

Bonky: (giggling) “Why would they have to race again?”

Me: (giggling) “BONKY!”

Bonky: (giggling)

Bonky and The Mama: GIGGLES

Bonky and The Mama: GIGGLES

Bonky and The Mama: GIGGLES

 

And so went story time at BonkLand…

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

He is rotten…TO. THE. CORE.  And just so you know, he gets all of his rotten shenanigans from the daddy. 

Ahem.

Purpose

"Consider the moon.  It has very little to recommend it--cold, dusty, and airless as it is.  The moon's landscape is pockmarked by craters and is lifelessly gray.  Among the celestial spheres, it is a mere pebble, responding to those with greater gravitational pull.  The moon has no light of its own--flat, dark, unremarkable.  If it were not for the sun, we'd never even notice it.  But the sun is there, and the moon responds beautifully to its light.  The dull, dusty surface is transformed, and we see a shimmering silvery disk in our sky...We admire the play of shadows across its surface and trace the familiar rings of its craters with fascination.  The night sky is filled with its gentle light.  (excerpt from Women of Faith Study Guide Series "Receiving God's Love")

As I went through my bible study this morning, I was struck by this thought in relation to our role as parents.  The last thing the unbelieving and believing worlds alike need to see is a generation of children who become adults satisfied with the status quo, going about their lives day to day without any true purpose -- following anything and everything because they haven’t encountered the One who can radically change every aspect of their lives.

So my prayer for the children God puts into our home is this: that thru His all-sufficient and divine power working in the daddy and I -- as we train up our kiddos in the way they should go -- that He'd somehow empower us to build a home that changes lives -- from lifeless to full of Life -- where our children are transformed by Him and respond beautifully to His Light working in their hearts.

Oh God—let us be parents who raise children up into a steadfast, selfless faith with an unquenchable thirst for You.  It will only happen with You working in us.  We are powerless to do it ourselves.

A Make-Before Breakfast

Thanks to PJ Academy for this recipe...

Baked French Toast:

12 slices of bread
1 1/2 cup milk
4 eggs
1/3 cup pure Maple Syrup
1 Tsp Vanilla Extract
1 Tsp Cinnamon

In a mixing bowl, beat the eggs. Then add milk, syrup, and cinnamon.

Butter a 9x11 baking pan.

Place 5 or 6 slices of bread in the pan and pour 1/2 of the mixture on the bread.

Place 5 or 6 more slices of bread and pour the rest of the mixture on top.

Cover the pan and put in the fridge overnight.

Next morning.....uncover and cook at 350 degrees for 40 minutes.
 
 

Looking forward to breakfast with my boys tomorrow! 

I'm gonna cook some bacon, too...no better way to start your day!  ; )

Update: After baking this for about 39 hours, it was still gooey on the second layer...I even flipped it and cooked it some more and it was still gooey in between the layers...So, if you try it and it turns out well, let me know what you did!