Oh what days

Well. My sweater was completed in record time, and it turned out well. I know you were all wondering. (Tongue firmly planted in cheek.)

On to topics more relevant to this blog.

Last week, Greg and I hosted/led our first home group at our apartment. It is focused on worship, which means that I had to practice (gasp!) and pick out songs, type up lyrics, etc. Also, I felt the need to clean (of course) and also bake (count them) 1. banana muffins 2. pound cake 3. a chiffon pie. Someone tell me I was out of my mind. Thank you.

More than likely due to all of this, Andrew decided to go on an all out whining fest, and Elijah wouldn't be satisfied with anything. Here is the innocent Mr. A.:

Looks almost innocent there.

I was completely overwhelmed, and, as anyone would, I just wanted my mom. Thankfully, she happened to be out and called me on her cell. I poured out my woes to her, telling her that I was seemingly trying to impersonate the Martha of the New Testaments, and so she gave me a little talking to, prayed for me, and, well, was just Mommy. Just what I needed.

I still managed to get two of those things baked, along with every other single thing needed. My back was killing me, my feet felt like they'd break down the center and I was exhausted, but the homegroup went well. This is how I got Elijah to cooperate for the last little while of preparation:

He's never even tried a bottle before, but I happened to have some vanilla Soy Silk...

Desperation, I tell you.

Yesterday I took Andrew in for his Well Baby exam and shots. He wasn't very trusting of the Dr.

I brought him into the next room for the shots, and I suddenly remembered why I hate shots so much. They had him lie down on his back on the table, and I crossed his arms over his chest. Then while he was looking up at me, they stabbed him in the legs with three shots. I have to admire them for being quick, but the look on his little face turning from sweet trust to crumpled pain was almost too much for me. I nearly cried too, but thought they doctors would think I was wuss, so I packed it in.

Tomorrow I bring Elijah in. Ask me how I feel about shots then.