Clocked out!



Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls!

I am officially clocked out!  My daughter’s adoption was finalized and I have taken some time off work to do some much needed bonding and family time!

I was worried at first that I would be totally bored, to be honest.  School is out until mid January, kids are all home from school, and Christmas will be here and gone.  I was worried…and now I’m not.

Now I am SURE I will be bored…and covered in school glue, probably!

In case you didn’t know, I am a rather crafty person.  So…multiply that with being off work and actually rested all day (I normally work night shift).  The kids have already stared rolling their eyes.

We have butter warming on the counter for sugar cookies, we have decorated Christmas ornaments that I crocheted off the top of my head; tomorrow we do kinetics, and then we will be donating blood and visiting an animal shelter.

So, in a nutshell I am asking you to pray for my children.  Pray for their patience, pray for their sanity, and Good Lord above, my poor daughter I am bonding with who learned today NOT to touch the glue gun…

Until I inhale glitter,

Savannah Smiles


The picture is NOT one of mine, we don’t paint until Sunday…


Don’t listen to her brothers, it isn’t Ebola…


Our Saturday was spent admitted to Kaiser South Sacramento 4th floor pediatrics.  Not much fun.  A child not breathing efficiently is zero fun.

Rather than share the wicked details, I want to tell you the five things that WERE fun in relation to our awful weekend:

1. MRSA.  MRSA is a bacterial infection that cannot be treated with antibiotics.  Not nice.  Not fun.  But it is also the nickname my sister gave to the teddy bear the ER Tech gave my daughter.

2. Nice.  My daughter isn’t quite two years old and has limited vocabulary.  Every time something bad happened to her she said ‘nice’.  We eventually learned that ‘nice’ implies that the person in the room SHOULD be nice, and is not.

3. Oral steroids are gross.  After throwing up the steroids all over my new couch, she saw the next dose coming later and pointed to the now-clean couch and said ‘nice’ as if to warn me what her plans were for the next dose.

4. Coming home with an inhaler attached to a air chamber is not fun.  However, letting her put princess stickers all over it was fun.  Also, busting out the glue gun and coating the wretched thing in crystals was pretty fun too.

5. Learning what wheezing sounds like.  May not sound like fun, but having a stethoscope on hand, I learned the different breath sounds, compared perfectly healthy kids in house with our sick girl.  Learning is always good, and now I know the difference in good and bad lungs; wheezing and crackles.

Again, not a fun weekend, but the light is only there if you look for it!

As soon as she gets some sleep,

Savannah Smiles

The Marriage Bed


This is the marriage bed. Not as scary as it seems. Not as difficult as we make it out to be. It is really just a bed that mom and dad share. So much happens here that no one tells you about until you climb in though.

No, not that part. Everyone seems to have an opinion about THAT PART. I mean the secrets part. I have two sisters, but growing up I had one sister. Her and I would tell secrets and whisper and plan and play when we were supposed to be asleep. That’s the part that I’m talking about here.

I never knew how important that whisper time was. When the kids are asleep, my husband and I whisper. We talk about our day, how much we hate and love and then hate again the short guy on Game of Thrones. We make guesses on which kid will be brought home by the cops first. We sneak ice cream we told the kids was all gone. Heck, we’ve even made late night taco runs!

So my advice to you is to keep the marriage bed sacred. Hide the brand name Oreos and for goodness sakes, leave the lights on for THAT PART just once in awhile.

As always,

Savannah Smiles

Haven’t you Heard?


Ebola.  They might as well have named it The Terror Virus.  Since the outbreak I have to admit that the reality seemed a world away.  And literally, it was.  Until it hit US soil.  Then it became pay-attention-to-the-news real for me.

Upgrading my response yesterday was a mandatory class I have to take that my employeer is offering.  It is a we-are-prepared if the Terror gets to California kind of class.  Um…no thank you.  I think I will be sick that day.  All of those days.

It got me nice and terrified about the Terror Strain.  I went from being professional and distant to mass hysteria.  Someone coughed near me in the grocery store and I wanted to find the Lysol aisle.  My kid got a bloody nose (just because kids stick things where they should not be) and you-guessed-it crossed my mind.  I dared not say anything outloud, his brothers probably would have buried him alive in the backyard.

The Terror is real though.  Not for me, not for my family, not in reality.  But it is real.  The more I think about it, the more it makes me worried.

This nasty monster has the nerve to to kill in a matter of days.  Days?  How do you prepare for something that will kill you in days?

I have to admit that decision I should have made years ago are coming to light.  I will be getting life insurance now.  I can’t imagine leaving my family at all, but leaving them with nothing feels worse.

I need to feel like everything is going to be ok, even if it isn’t.  Or, as my fifth born would say, ‘I need some loves’.

And just as soon as I find some, I’ll once again be,

Savannah Smiles