On the medical release form for our middle child, I had to write:

May still have a quarter in him.

I checked...

(a very nice way of putting that--for those of you who know what they ask you to do when your child eats a coin)

...for over a month but never found it, so please make sure to x-ray him before ever giving an MRI or CT-Scan because he can't have those if the quarter is still in him.

Why-oh-why do they do things like that?!?

At what point does it sound like a good idea to put dried pinto beans or tiny Legos up your nose?

Do they really think I will be pleased that their rainbow drawn in the middle of the family room carpet looks "just like the one in the book" ?

Or that they helped by using dishwashing soap to "clean the carpet" for me?

And how do you recover from calling 911 and then trying to explain to the police officer that it isn't actually real blood on your kid, but just red nail polish that he used to paint himself?

How do you stop your heart from pounding when the thud on the tile entry turns out to be your children in a pile after they emptied out their laundry baskets and climbed inside to take wild rides down your very steep staircase?

Or when naptime was less about napping, and more about using a sibling's ink pad to quietly-Picasso the entire upstairs.

And there's nothing like the feeling-- When your toddler walks up to you with half a worm and you realize she's chewing the other half...

Or when you are cleaning and pull up the vent in the floor and find it crammed full of empty candy wrappers...

Or when you go to get your newborn up from sleeping and find that his head has been decorated with a jug of Vaseline...

Or when you see something brown on the carpet and you realize that your toddler has "changed" your baby's diaper...

Or when your son sees the cloaked-lady next to you in the Spaghetti Factory restroom and SCREAMS-IN-TERROR-- "It's a witch!!!"

Or when your dog's breath smells "minty fresh" and you decide it's probably best that everyone gets a new toothbrush because...

...you just never know.

But there is a point in the journey of parenting when it actually (kind of) makes sense to you that-- "the bathrooms were all full" so using a soldier's helmet as a chamber pot was "the only thing" he could do. But you are still sad that he couldn't empty it without spilling all the way to the bathroom.

And eventually you get past trying to impress other people...

So when you hear that your Pastor's wife had to come clean your house because her daughter was babysitting and your boys decorated their room with their babysitter's mascara, it really is actually something you can laugh about...eventually.

And when your 2-year-old LOUDLY asks the man behind the counter at Subway-- "Are you Jesus?" You simply smile and say-- "I bet you get that a lot."

You start to understand them and believe that when they cut off 12 inches of their sister's hair, they really were "just trying to cut the gum out."

You LOVE how they hide under their dinner napkins when their daddy gets home from work.

And how they yell "chase me" and dart away in screams.

And how they plead for just one more story night after night.

And how they actually do stop and pray for the "sick guy" they pass in the hospital.

And how they tell you things like when they grow up they're going to be-- "a vet during the day and a circus clown at night."

And that-- "You and Dad are my best friend."

When they say--"Even way under your covers, Jesus can still see you."

Cuz-- "God is real, but Superman isn't, but even if Superman was real, God would totally be stronger."

But there is nothing...nothing....nothing...

Like the day you get the first real Valentine from your child.

Not one you told them to make.

Or one you made for them and had them sign. But one that they planned and cut and pasted and created all out of love... That they hid and brought to you, giggling from the joy of the surprise...