A Series of Unfortunate Events

So this past year has been full of challenges.

Some health related.

Some mechanically related.

Some just plain messy.

(Sorry ahead of time for any whining, complaining or venting.)

There's been cases of Bronchitis, ear infections, broken arms, throwing up... you've heard about those.

Then most recently we've had a bout of AC unit-itis during the hottest month ever in the Phoenix area. Lovely I know. And then our van's engine gave out on us...only the catch is we just got a new one last September when the original died at an unusually young age. What are the odds? So we bought a new (used) van.

The very next week while on vacation, our pool decided to break and luckily the neighbors turned it off after witnessing the lake the leak was producing on the street in front of our house. We like our neighbors. We don't like the pool. And even now after many hours of sweat, toil and tears, it's still not in correct working form. ARRRRG.

Yesterday, I went to check on my new yellow room that I just blogged about and happened upon a puddle of yellow paint in the middle of the floor. Some gnome or sprite or troll must've knocked over a paint can that was lidded...only some runaway paint decided to leak out anyway. I spent all day yesterday morning and afternoon battling the puddle. It is now a very faded yellow patch. I hope it's not too noticeable. *sigh*

And verymostrecently as in just last night...Dennis in his most trouble-finding-manner, fell off his bar stool and cracked his head on the tile. I hate tile when it collides with heads. The good-sized bump on his head was oozing, and we could not keep him awake (which is so not like him). After a call to our brother-in-law EMT, Daddy took him to the ER. (I stayed home and battled a hurting ear that has been bothering Miss B). Anywho, after a few hours, one CAT scan and some checking and searching and looking, they declared he should be fine. Apparently after all that, they asked Mr. Dennis if he wanted to stay at the hospital to which he answered in the affirmative. They thought that since the boy of four years wanted to stay, that must mean he was really hurting and so they urged Dad to stay there overnight with the boy for observation. However, upon further questioning, Dad realized that Dennis only wanted to stay so he could play more games on Dad's phone. Needless to say...they came right home. We're excited for the bill. Dennis told me later that he wished he was bouncy so he wouldn't break when he fell. I concur. Wholeheartedly.

I.hate.tile. And I am still shaking this morning.

I am seriously considering ripping out all the tile and replacing it with turf. You can't ruin it, it's soft, you'd just have to mow it to clean up. There might be a few more grass stains to deal with, but that's a heckofalotbetter than cracked heads, split chins, chipped teeth and the like. And I could be onto starting a new trend too.

There, I'm done. And I feel better after getting all that out. Therapy I tell you.

And no pictures again. My husband will claim it an unheard of occurrence....two posts in a row with no pictures. Next time, I promise.

Except I can't post without saying something positive because we are really blessed with great friends and family who help and worry, a job in this tremendously uncertain time, a home, four great kids who are relatively healthy most of the time and are great helpers, thinkers and keep us laughing. We are also blessed with our faith and knowledge of a loving Heavenly Father who has worked so many miracles in our lives. And with all of these struggles, he's been there giving back in ways that are too numerous and some too personal to share. In fact, Miss B offered a sweet, heartfelt prayer after Dennis and Dad headed to the hospital and soon after he was suddenly awake and quite alert after struggling unsuccessfully to stay awake. The faith of a child should never be underestimated. And all of these "events" just seem to put things into the perspective they should be in...that family, faith, love and friendships are the most important things. Our decor, clothes, fingernail polish (or lack thereof), and bank statements don't really matter.