...it IS humanly possible for a seventh grade boy to use his cellphone to text 9423 messages in ONE month.

We owe a debt of gratitude to the kind Verizon employee who understood our pain and reversed the charges so our bill will now reflect the unlimited texting plan. If I was going to have more children, I would name my next born child after her. God bless her.

I always have such fun when I take my children to the doctor's office. If you don't believe me, just read here and here.

All of the kids needed more immunizations before school started. And let me just interject real quick-like that school has NOT started here yet, but I reeeaallly need it to start soon. For my mental well-being. It's been a great summer, but it is time for a bit of a routine.

I decided to take all four kids to get their immunizations at the same time. Why? Because I am a tad insane. Plus I did a quick mathematical formula and decided it would take less time to do one big trip than it would to take four separate trips. This bit of genius was what finally got me nominated for the Mensa Club.

I loaded up all four kids and off we went. Of course they were all thrilled that I was taking them to have someone stick needles in their arm. The vibe in the car was just fantastic. When we finally arrived, Lily was begging for some waaattterrr because she was sure she just might collapse on the ground from dehydration. Fortunately for all of us, we found a water fountain in front of the doctor's office and Lily decided to take a drink. And by take a drink, I really mean take a bath. As we walked through the door of the office, I'm sure people thought I hosed her off in the parking lot.

As we waited....and waited for our turn, the kids grew restless. Except for Ben, my 15 year old. He just listened to his Ipod, which is permanently attached to his ears. We communicate through sign language now. As we waited, the sibling love began to disappear only to be replaced with a minor incident of bodily harm and name calling. The name calling was the infamous slur of "Poopy Head." I wish I could say the 4 year old was the one who said this word, but it wasn't.

Soon they called our name and all four kids, the nurse, and myself crowded into the tiny exam room. Every now and then I am in situations where it hits me how many kids I really have. This was one of those situations. As soon as the nurse left to draw up her evil potions, the kids decided to turn into monkeys. Except for Ben. He just zoned us all out with his magic Ipod. Kids literally bounced off the wall (yes, it is possible) and then they took turns touching and sitting on every available surface in the room. But because no one was yelling, "Poopy Head" I just rolled with it.

After a "brief" 20 minutes, which in mini-exam room time feels more like an hour and a half, the nurse re-entered and administered all the shots. One by one each child took the pain and recieved their special coupon for a Junior Frosty from Wendy's - which we soon found out was a Frosty in a cup the size of a shot glass.

Ipod: Check
PSP Player: Check
Cell Phone: Check
Poptarts for the airplane: Check
1 week away from mom & dad: PRICELESS

Bo has spent the last week in sunny San Diego. I am going to the airport today to pick him up. I don't think he will be eager to come home though. He has spent the last week with grandparents and cousins going to baseball games, the beach, Lego Land, Sea World, and the all-important In and out Burger. Do you think he'll be happy back at home doing chores and eating my food? I'm not too sure.

Lily was very concerned when Bo told her he was flying all by himself to California. (For those of you who are concerned, it was a direct flight. In case you are upset by this, I thought I should also let you know that my children play in the street.) She asked him if he would fly "like this" and then she flapped her arms like a bird. Bo explained that he would be in an airplane. She seemed relieved. She wasn't sure Bo had the strength to flap all the way to California.

We've stayed in touch this week through the magic of texting. I'm not a big texting fan, but the youngsters are. In fact, when Bo's first cell phone bill arrived, we quickly decided we needed a texting plan. It was either that or put another mortgage on the house. Anyway, I have texted him throughout the week, asking him what he is doing. I have received riveting one and two word responses. Apparently, texting is supposed to be brief. But it has kept us connected and for that I am grateful.

He did break the 2 word text limit when I texted him last night:

"You ready to come home to mama?"

His response:

"Ummmm....I don't think you want me to answer that."

I quickly texted back:

"Are you trying to make your mother cry?"

Because when all else fails, you have a maternal right to make your children feel guilty.

Dear Bo,

Today is your birthday and you are finally 12 years old! I say "finally" because I have been thinking you were already twelve for the past six months. I know you have found great humor in pointing out my insanity as often as possible. But now you are really twelve. So the next time I buy your movie ticket, you won't need to yell over my shoulder that your own mother doesn't know how old you are. I'm glad we are past that now.

You joined our little family twelve years ago today. Your father, big brother Ben, and I had just moved to Tulsa a couple weeks before you were born. You were almost born in Nashville, but a job change required us to move. When I was 8 months pregnant. And fat. And hormonal. I like to remind your father of this whenever I'm about to lose an argument. No 8 month pregnant woman should ever be required to move across a state line in her third trimester. It disrupts the whole nesting instinct. Please make a mental note of that for your future wife.

You came into this world a whopping 8 pounds. No one in my family ever birthed a baby bigger than about 6 pounds. You were special immediately. Of course the reason you were so big was because I ate like there was no tomorrow while I was pregnant with you. I gained about 60 pounds and I still have the stretch marks to prove it if you are interested.

From the moment I laid eyes on you, I was in love. Your sweet face, gentle demeanor, and big personality were apparent from the beginning. You are really growing up, Bo. I love your sense of humor and your quick wit, not to mention your cool dance moves. When I look at you, I no longer see a little boy. I see a young man who has his whole life ahead of him. I am proud of the choices you have made so far in life. You are a wise young man and I know you will continue to make good choices. But even if you don't, nothing will ever change the deep love I have for you. I am your mother.

I pray this next year brings you much joy. I pray this next year you gain a deeper understanding of who you are...I pray you stay away from girls at least one more year.

Love, Mom

In an attempt to help my boys understand how the universe spins:

Me: "Boys, you should always let girls go first. Trust me, if you prefer women, it will pay off."

Bo (age 11): "Uhh...Don't worry mom. I definitely prefer women."

Smart aleck.

My husband and I both work from home and share a home office space. He actually built us some great desks that were plagiarized straight from a recent issue of Pottery Barn catalogue. What can I say? He is a genius. Not only because he built the desks, but also because he did it before I broke down and actually ordered the desks from Pottery Barn. He knows once I get a vision, I need to act on it right away, or else the universe will stop spinning. Trust me when my universe stops spinning, happiness is a distant memory for all involved.

We wanted the space to be a creative space, which to me means clean lines and a splash of color. To Rod it means two words. White Board. I believe all men have a strange attraction to the almighty white board. But Rod's attraction might border on an actual disorder. He does not believe he can think without a white board present in the room. He likes to draw, write words, circle them and draw arrows pointing back at all these special words. It is sometimes dizzying. He likes to look for opportunities to use the white board. Like the time he used it to lecture our eldest son, Ben, on the importance of good grades. When he was finished with the lecture the board looked like a calculus equation. Fortunately, Ben is a whiz at math.

My kids like to use the white board, too and they often leave me notes.

A different son recently wrote me a note that said "Hug me" which mistakenly got erased before I could snap a picture.

And note number three:

Lots of times I don't see the notes until they are at school, but they always bring a smile to my face. And no calculus degree is required!

We are still covered in snow. The 6-foot drift in front of my house remains and shows no sign of melting soon, despite my constant begging. I have not seen the grass since the week before Christmas, but the yard is a lovely shade of white with yellow spots, thanks to Gunner the Wonder Dog. I am sick of snow. So sick of it that it didn't really bother me when we couldn't go skiing for 6 weeks due to Rod's recent injury. Even though we already bought season passes for everyone. And even though the price of those season passes could have afforded me another much-needed spa weekend...or at least a vat of sugar-free chocolate.

But Rod's latest CT scan showed that his kidney is healing well and the doctor cleared him for sports. So we made the effort. It really was a beautiful day and I actually enjoyed myself. I am a BEGNINNER skier--and let me emphasize the word beginner even more by saying that there is no slope that is TOO green for me. I would rather glide down the mountain at my leisure than be forced to pop anxiety medication just to make it down a harder slope. Yes mother, I sometimes take anxiety pills, but never when you are here for a visit.

Rod even chose to ski rather than snowboard because he's not a big fan of kidney injuries anymore. I was quite relieved to hear this, but our middle son, Bo, thinks Rod sacrificed some of his manhood by going back to skiing. Bo continues to express his disappointment, but revels in the fact that he is the only "real" man left in the family because he boards instead of skis.

Here we are on the top of the slopes. (a green slope)

OK, I may have broken copyright laws by posting the above picture, but I left their logo smeared across our faces when I could have photoshopped it out. Because I'm ethical like that.

All the kids are really picking up the sport and are MUCH better than me. (Lily won't start until next year, but I'm sure because of her attitude she will take up snowboarding rather than skiing and beat me down the mountain her very first try.) We had a wonderful family day and I truly cherish these memories with the kids.

The boys and Rod made one last run without me, because I like to end the day without any wipe-outs. I had a clear record so far and didn't want to succumb to failure at the last minute. Yes, "quit while you are ahead" is my motto. That way you don't have to stare failure in the face. This is an extremely healthy attitude.

When the boys finished their last run, I noticed that Ben and Jackson were nowhere to be found.

"Uh Rod, where's Jackson and Ben??"

"Oh, they decided to take a different lift by themselves and ski down the other part of the mountain. I told them I'd bring the car around and pick them up."

"What?? You sent our 14 year-old and our 8 year-old to ski down the other side of the mountain ALONE?"

"Don't worry. It will be good for them. It's good to give them some independence."

I won't tell you what went through my mind, but I'm sure you can imagine.

When we pulled the car around to pick them up, Jackson emerged COVERED in snow. It was obvous he had taken a face plant.

"Jackson, what happened?"

"I'm ok. It was AWESOME!....I went down the Superpipe!!"

Apparently a side effect of independence is temporary insanity.