Have you ever had one of those really awful days where everything just exhausts you and the only surface in your house not covered in dirty clothes or dirty dishes is the toilet seat and then you order delivery pizza because you say you want to treat your kids to something fun but it is really because they are the only people who will deliver a 2-liter of Diet Coke to your door and then you drop a piece of steaming hot pizza all on the floor and end up getting so frustrated with everything that you throw said pizza slice across the kitchen and onto the tile backsplash where you leave it to sit all day long until your husband gets home?

No?

Yeah, me either.

Ask me today if I like pregnancy after hanging my head over the sink for 30 minutes with the water running and praying that I don’t actually throw up like my body is promising me I will and my answer will probably be…no comment. In fact, for the last week I’ve been complaining to my husband that I have never been so sick. That I can’t imagine doing this again. That I am pretty sure I am going to die of nausea. And I have been telling him over and over and over that it has never ever been this bad. Never.

According to my husband, though, this is just par for the course. But, I’m not exaggerating when I say that I honestly cannot remember from pregnancy to pregnancy how I felt about the last one. The minute that baby is out of my body all I remember is how great it felt to feel baby kicks and nudges. I remember all the magical things about pregnancy and none of the yucky ones. It must be a trait Michelle Duggar and I have in common.

I suppose this is why when I go on and on about how much I love carrying a baby my husband looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. As it turns out, there isn’t a daddy version of mommy pregnancy amnesia. Too bad for him.

So…yeah. Baby #4 is on his or her way sometime at the end of next March. We’re SO excited! And prayers for a safe & healthy baby would be much appreciated!

In fact, just yesterday when I picked her up from tutoring her tutor (a fantastic godly woman who we just love!) said that Kai is 6 going on 30 and that she is so excellent at conversation. Oh. So. True.

On our way home I asked Kai what they had talked about at tutoring. “Oh, you know,” she said “I told her about what you said last night.”

At that moment, I knew there was a blog post in the making. Because the night before just before Kai had gone to bed I had called my mom to ask her something. My mom, weighing about 110 pounds and having not had lunch that day before drinking a pre-dinner glass of wine, was a bit tipsy on the phone. Not Spring Break 2010 tipsy. Just a little giggly.

So, when I got off the phone my husband asked what had been so funny. I jokingly told him my mom must have been drinking way too much wine because she was acting crazy. It didn’t even occur to me that Kai was picking up on any of this. At least not until she told me that she talked to her tutor about “what happened last night.”

Me: What exactly did you tell her about last night?

Kai: Oh, you know, that Nina is just drinking WAY too much wine and it makes her act so CRAYzayZAY.

Me: Kai! That is not true and that is definitely not something we say to other people!

Kai: Oh, Mom. Don’t worry! I told her that if she ever meets my Nina to pretend like I didn’t just tell her about how she drinks too much.

Well, that’s a relief.

And that is how I came to be emailing Kai’s tutor yesterday afternoon and reassuring her that Kai’s grandma is not, in fact, a falling down drunk. What scares me most is that this is just what she admits to telling people while I’m not there. It terrifies me to imagine what else gets said while I’m not around…

(Here’s the letter I wrote to Wendy’s Saturday night…)

Dear Wendy’s,

You guys should know. I love Wendy’s. And I love your Frosty’s. So when my husband and I took the girls out for a special family night to see Toy Story 3 we knew that we wanted to treat our kids to something cold & yummy after the movie and a Frosty seemed like the perfect thing. I don’t have to tell you that in this economy we, like many other middle class families, are watching our pennies and only splurging occasionally.

So, when we got our Chocolate Frosty shakes you can imagine our disappointment when they were literally undrinkable. And I don’t mean they just tasted a little unpleasant. I mean my children gagged when they tasted them and my husband and I both spit our the shake before we could even swallow it. They were rancid. Or soured. Or something else that was a whole mess of nasty. It was bad.

And since we had driven through and couldn’t go back I decided to at least give the restaurant a call to let them know that something had gone terribly awry with their frosty milkshake machine so at least the next customer would be spared the absolutely vile experience we had just had.

I swear to you I am not exaggerating when I recount the conversation I had with the manager. I wrote it down because I truly could not believe what I was hearing. It went like this:

Me: Hi, we just visited your drive-thru and got Chocolate Frosty Shakes and I just wanted to let you know that they were really, really gross. I don’t know if the milk is soured or if something went wrong but they were undrinkable. My children literally gagged when they tasted them and my husband and I couldn’t even bare to swallow ours.

Manager: Yes, I know. That is the flavor.

Me: You mean something was wrong with the flavoring?

Manager: No. The flavor of the chocolate tastes bad. We have had other people tell us it tastes like sour vomit. That’s how it is supposed to taste.

Me: Are you telling me that our milkshakes are SUPPOSED to taste like sour vomit?

Manager: Yes. That is the flavor. The Vanilla and Strawberry are okay if you want to come back and get one of those.

Me: Um, well, after having the taste of sour vomit in my mouth I’d really just rather have my money back. Because it was a seriously disgusting experience.

Manager: Well, I can only give you a milkshake of another flavor because that is how the chocolate is supposed to taste. It just has a kind of gross taste to it.

Me: **nearly speechless** So, let me just get this straight. You are the manager and you are telling me that the fact that my milkshake tasted like sour vomit and that I literally had to pull over my car and spit it out is normal and how it is supposed to be and that my only option is to drive back and get a Frosty shake in another flavor?

Manager: Yes.

Me: Okay, then, well I guess there is nothing else you can do for me.

Manager: Okay, have a good night.

—

I am so not kidding about that. I mean, I wasn’t even the one who brought the term “sour vomit” into the conversation. I honestly kind of wish they’d just change the name of the shakes to “Sour Vomit Frosty Shake” instead of “Chocolate Frosty Shake” so the customers are at least informed about what they’re ordering.

I actually ended up receiving an email from Wendy’s within 24 hours (and on a Sunday!) of writing that letter. The manager of our Wendy’s assured us the Sour Vomit is actually not the intended flavor of their chocolate shakes and offered us a full refund and replacement Frosty’s of our choice. I must give credit where credit is due and say that I’m amazed at the speed of their customer service department’s response. Good job, Wendy’s!

Being unplugged for this long has been pretty darn nice. No self-imposed pressure to publish posts. No kids begging me to close up my computer. And, aside from the occasional moment of guilt over neglecting my blog, I’ve been quite relaxed.

But, no blogging means I didn’t get to tell you all about my recent crazy trip to Wendy’s where the manager told me it was normal for my milkshake to taste like “sour vomit” (True Story. And I’m publishing it tomorrow. I promise.) and I also didn’t get to relate the traumatic tale of the first time Kai accidentally walked into our bedroom without knocking after her dad had gotten out of the shower and hadn’t grabbed his towel yet. (My eyes! My eyes!) That was funny stuff.

Lest you think I’ve spent the last 3 weeks eating bonbons on the couch I’ll let you know what I’ve been up to. It’s been a productive few weeks. While I wasn’t blogging I was:

- getting Kai ready to start 1st grade in a few weeks and figuring out our preschool curriculum plans for Ivy.

- watching lots of cartoons on the couch with two cuddly little girls while their little brother napped.

- sewing 3 adorable little girl dresses and several baby gifts for friends who are adding little ones to their families.

- learning to crochet.

- making 27 pints of freezer pickles and bagging & freezing 20 quarts of Zucchini.

- planting okra & squash and getting really excited about what we’re planting in our fall/winter garden.

- adding bunnies to the homestead as pets and poop machines for our compost bins.

- eating bonbons and watching soap operas. (Not really! Just checking to see if you were still reading. Where do people even get bonbons BTW?)

So, that’s it. I guess the short answer to what I’ve been doing while I wasn’t blogging is simple. I’ve been enjoying life with my kids. Not too shabby, I’d say…

Which, while true, also makes for some interesting proclamations by her. When we say, “Wow, that building sure is tall!” She says, “But not taller than God!” And so on and so on. Every day she reminds us how big God is. Sometimes, however, she gets a bit confused. Case in point:

Ivy: “Hey Mom, do you have hair in your armpits?”

Me: “Not right now, but I do if I don’t shave them.”

Okay, wait. That’s a lie. The conversation actually started more like this.

Ivy: “GROSS, Mom! You have hair under your arms!”

Me: “I know, I know. I need to shave. In the meantime stop looking under my armpits if you don’t want to see it.”

Ivy: “But Daddy has the most hair in his armpits, right?”

Me: “Yep. Daddy has the most hair.” (Thank God.)

Ivy: “Except you know who really has the most hair in their armpits?”

Me: “Who?”

Ivy: “Jesus and God, of course! No one has more hairy armpits than Jesus and God. Right, Mom?”

Me: “….”

How on Earth do I answer that? I will say that at least it is better than the time she asked me (in front of STRANGERS!) if Jesus and God have the “most biggest boobies for booby milk in the whole universe.” Because, um, yeah. I pretty much had no idea how to answer that one…

I love this stage of babyhood. Traveler is 16 months old and has been babbling for a while now, but the words are finally starting to add up to stuff. And since we have Kai-versations to chronicle Kai’s craziness and Ivylish for Ivy’s we now have to add something for Mr. T. And so, I present a Traveloquacious moment…

The thing about when babies first start talking is that it is so highly anticipated. You wait on each word with bated breath and rejoice at little words like, “Ball!” or “Uh-oh!” Never in a child’s life is “NOOOO!” so adorable than the first time they say it.

Traveler started with Mama. Moved on to Dada. Then found his sweet spot with the four words he says the most: Uh-Oh! Stop! NO! Don’t!

Can you tell what words I say all day long? *sigh*

But his newest word?

Well, let’s just say he hasn’t quite gotten the pronunciation right.

It should be kitty. Ki-tty. But apparently K’s are tough for 16-month-olds. Because kitty? Has turned into titty.

Of course it has, right? And kitty isn’t just reserved for our house cats. Oh no. It is screeched loudly at all animals. In public. In fact, everything is a titty.

And this, my friends, is awesome when you’re browsing the shelves at the local Joann’s Fabric and your 16-month-old son sees a picture of a kitty and pulls himself up to standing while in the process pulling down your already stretched out & slobbered on maternity v-neck t-shirt and proceeds to yell “TITTY!! TITTY!!” as loud as humanly possible.

There goes my hopes to have a least one child who won’t strip me of my dignity in public. It was a fun dream while it lasted…

For more Wordless Wednesday, head over to 5 Minutes for Mom!

Nice choices, huh?

While there are lots and lots of fun benefits to being self-employed there is one very important negative: Private Insurance.

Can I tell you how much it sucks to have to pursue health insurance on your own?

A. Lot.

This year we got a letter from our insurance letting us know that our premium would be increasing again. And how much would it be increasing? $200. So, for a little less than $800 we would have the most bare bones coverage in the world.

Let me tell you what we get for $800 a month:

NOTHING.

We have a $5700 deductible that we NEVER actually meet which basically means our insurance covers nothing. No prescriptions. No doctor’s office visits. No ER visits. Nothing.

And, of course, because I once had a kidney stone we have a rider attached that says it will never cover any future UTIs or kidney stones of any kind. Also, because I’ve had a C-section in the past it I have a another rider that says it will never cover any maternity expenses whatsoever. Not even prenatal care. Which means the $12,000 in medical bills from Trav’s delivery were 100% our responsibility and didn’t even count toward our deductible.

See what I mean about what gets covered?

Nothing.

Just last month we got a letter from our insurance addressing new health care reform. They wanted to put our mind at ease about how the reform would be affecting our health insurance policy. Don’t worry, they wrote, nothing at all will be changing in your coverage. Gee, that’s a relief.

And so we’re trying to decide what to do. Because this just isn’t going to work anymore. We’ve been looking at trying Samaritan Ministries‘ health sharing plan because it seems like a good option for us. As a family of 5 our share would be $320 a month and medical bills over $300 would be covered by our participation. Each month instead of sending a payment to the company you send your payment to a designated family’s published medical need. As a result, each medical bill is covered by the other members and you receive encouraging notes with each check. It isn’t insurance but it is an interesting health sharing concept. One that seems to be working for thousands of people.

I can’t turn my back on traditional insurance lightly, but we have to look at the benefits we’re receiving for the expenses we’re incurring. And if Samaritan Ministry works like it sounds then it sounds like a really interesting option. I’ve read tons of independent reviews from bloggers and families who have been with Samaritan for a decade or more and love it. I can’t recall the last time I heard someone say the same thing about their health insurance company.

We’re wading through our choices and trying to make the right one for everyone in our family. In the meantime, I’d love to know if any of you have heard of Samaritan’s or other similar plans and what your experience has been with them?