back to school, day two

Elliott's first day of school was a roaring success.  He came running to the car so excited to tell me everything that had happened.  He really liked his Spanish teacher, Sra. Asensio but he loved his English teacher, Mrs. Maples.  Both teachers contacted us several times the week before school started via e-mail, phone, and a post card in the mail.  Elliott really likes school, but never have I seem him this excited!  It's a great feeling as a parent to see your kid like his teachers so much.




Wyatt's first day of first grade was yesterday.  Wyatt threw me a loophole I wasn't prepared for when we were driving to school.  I was planning on parking the car, and walking to his line, like every other mom, dad, and grandma of a first grader but, he didn't need me.  "I want Elliott to walk me to where I line up" he said to me, oozing a confidence I wasn't prepared for.

Dagger to the heart!  I wasn't prepared for that one.  I thought for sure I could at least still be his mom the first day of school.  But, I was wrong.  He's always been a confident little fart, I just didn't know how confident I guess.




I have to be honest, I was a completely worried mess all day long.  I spent the whole morning reminding him to go to the bathroom, not run around too much, to eat his lunch quickly and stay away from kids with peanut butter in their lunches and on and on and on.  I worry about this boy of mine.  But, if he is confident enough to walk to class mom-less, I suppose he can handle himself in the lunch room alright.  It's good that he's afraid of food and such a picky eater, he'll never go near anyone else's lunch.

When it was time to head to the school to pick up the boys, I was so excited.  Quinn and I had ourselves a good day, but we missed our boys.  It felt like it took them extra long to walk to the car and I was so nervous and anxious and couldn't wait to hear about Wyatt's first full day of school.  The smiles on their faces walking to the car let me know that both had a pretty good day.




Wyatt didn't have a lot to tell me.  He made a couple new friends, and a little girl from his primary class is in his class so that seemed to clear all his jitters.  He was proud of himself for surviving lunch, remembering his backpack, and remembering to use the bathroom.  Of course, he had much more to tell his dad when Ross got home from work, than he had to tell me, but that's okay.  I don't mind...too much.



Suddenly, these boys of mine are growing up a little bit faster than I was prepared for.  Pretty soon, they are going to be teenagers.  I already feel pretty useless except when they need clean laundry and food....hopefully they will at least bring their friends home so I can feed them, too.

Before I forget

For as much as I lament about January, February is pretty cool.  Probably it's cool because it's so short and it's not two degrees outside.  I mean, when you actually see some blue sky and the car thermometer hits 44?  That's pretty wicked awesome.

Lately, I've been feeling like a bit of a failure in the mom to two older boys department.  I do my best to hang out with them and hug them and love them and not get too grumpy at them but I'm failing.  Little squishy babies take up so much time, don't they?  And, my boys are getting so much bigger and so much more independent that it's just all going by so quickly.

The other night while Elliott was in the shower, Wyatt and I were laying on my bed.  He climbed up and burrowed into me and we were just hanging out.  I was tickling his toes and he was jabbering on about a lynx or something like that.  While we were talking I said, "Wyatt, what was your favorite part of the day today?" and he turned and looked at me and said, "Right now mom.  This is my favorite part of the day."

Melted my heart I tell ya.  Lying with him on the bed was probably my favorite part of the day, too.  I need to make sure to seize more of those moments with me and my boys before they are too cool to have me be their favorite part of the day.

Both big boys have had parent teacher conferences in the last three two weeks and both boys had wonderful reports from their teachers.  

Elliott got all "E" grades, which is the kindergarten equivalent of an "A".  He is also reading on a first grade level, and I think is nearly finished with the kindergarten reading books.  He passes off a book a day in school, except for Friday's when they do PE instead of reading.  His teacher, Mrs. Easton, told us that he is an exceptional student, is kind to all his classmates, is helpful and a great kid to have in class.  The couple of times I've been able to go and volunteer I've been so proud of him.  He is a champion student, and I'm pretty sure, also after volunteering, that he is one of the smartest, if not the smartest kid in his class.

Two weeks ago he was the Friday VIP.  That meant that we got to make him a poster and he got to talk about himself, his poster, and pass out treats at school.  When we were getting ready for his VIP and talking about all the different things he could do or take as a treat, he was very specific about what he wanted.  He wanted his dad to take him to buy doughnuts before school.  He wanted his dad to come and watch him do his VIP presentation.  He did not want his mom, or his baby brother (Wyatt was at school) to come and interfere.  He wanted it to just be something special for him and his dad.  Thank heavens Ross' morning was open and it all worked out.  When I picked him up from school that day, he was beaming from ear to ear.

And Wyatt?  Remarkably, he does well in school, too.  His teacher, Mrs Anderson said that he too is kind to others and a good classmate, that he follows rules, and that he is a meticulous student.  She showed me his writing samples and some of his work and he is surprisingly good at coloring in the lines, cutting straight lines and writing his name.  When we did his valentines, he would only write the "tt" for his name, but at school, he writes his whole name very well.  She also told me that he is the only kid in his class who can count to 20 and beyond without skipping a number and knows all the days of the week and months of the year.  Good for him.

I have good boys.  And, I love them a lot!

35 weeks

35 weeks.  That's where the official ticker gets us today.  Up to right now, I haven't written much about this experience...probably because it's very similar to the other two.  But I thought, for the sake of documentation I'd share a few things.

The good:
*I'm 4 weeks away from meeting my third son.  This thrills me to no end.

*This whole process, minus being so slow (did you know that it only takes 60 days from start to finish for a baby polar bear to show his face?  Why can't I be a polar bear?), has really been very bearable for round three.  I feel super lucky.

*I'm still sleeping okay.  Not tonight of course because I'm writing this at 2:00 am with an absolutely insane and killer cold and I'm up because I cannot breathe.  But, honestly, I go to bed at night and except for some bathroom breaks, and said cold, I sleep right on through until morning.

*Even though I'm exhausted and feel so heavy that I might tip over, I can still do my regular stuff, albeit slowly.  My husband fired me from mowing the lawn a few weeks ago but I can still do laundry, dinner, make the beds, vacuum, plant flowers, pull weeds....you get the idea.

*I'm starting to panic a bit about this kiddo like I've done with the other two about how well he'll be breathing when he's born.  I pray that he'll be okay, won't have an extended NICU stay and that we'll actually get to hold him, introduce ourselves to him, and love his squishy squeakiness the day he's born.  So far, things are going in the direction of healthy and I've got confidence that the grandma's in heaven are looking out for him (and me) and that everything will be okay.

The Bad:
Oh, where to begin?  Not wanting to use this forum as a complete complain session (I mean, I do get to keep the baby after all) I'll keep it brief.

*swollen ankles, worse than with the other two I think
*swollen feet
*numb toes (I've almost completely lost feeling in the three smallest toes on my left foot, ick!)
*nerve pain in my right butt cheek
*fat, fat, fat!  Did I mention fat?
*back pain
*using the bathroom like it's going out of style
*no longer able to get up from sitting on the floor
*constantly out of breath

You get the idea, right?  It's funny with this whole process how you go from feeling super icky, to feeling so "normal" that you forget there is a space invader living inside of you to quite literally all of a sudden feeling like you are so heavy and bloated and slow that you might tip over or that said space invader might fall out, like a paper grocery bag that is too full and starts to rip at the bottom.  Every day when I get down and feel a bit sorry for myself (which, lets face it, is happening more than I'd like to admit), I just remind myself that I get a baby.  That I get to pick his birthday.  That I get to hold him and love him forever and ever.

The Ugly:
Like I said, this third round of baby boy feels like in a lot of ways, it's been "easier" (knock on wood) than with the other two, but it's been so much harder, too.  Harder because there are already two of these little boys here to take care of.  Harder because this summer has been so insanely hot that I've got my thermos stat set permanently at 71 degrees.  Harder because quite literally, I'm losing my ability to walk.

But, the really worst part is all the appointments.  Finding someone to watch my kids while I go to two NST's (Non-stress tests at the hospital), my OB appointment, my diabetes appointment each week  is just overwhelming.  The amount of insulin I'm injecting into my arms and hips every day is astounding.  Weighing more right  now than ever in my entire life (or I ever will again) just makes me want to cry.

And, the two kids I've got already in front of me are driving me crazy.  You can cut their nervous energy with a knife and I'm not sure how much more yelling, screaming, hitting, bathroom talk (no, Wyatt, we are not naming our new baby diarrhea or port-o-potty) and general, "I'm being crazy but I don't know why" - ness I can handle.  Just wait until the baby gets here - then their really going to lose their minds!

But, the end is in sight.  I'm actually looking forward to the whole process.

And, I cannot wait to hold a sweet, squishy little boy, part of our clone army, in my arms and kiss his head as much as I want.

Elliott, 5 days old

Wyatt, one day old

Boys of summer....

I love basketball. I don't mind being at a live football game.  Soccer, baseball, golf...these sports are not my favorite but I'm good for a game a season, usually (Except golf.  Not a sport, just an expensive hobby!  Look at the shape of the majority of men who play golf, professionally or otherwise, and you'll have to agree!)

Anyway, after Elliott has such a great time playing baseball in the spring we decided to sign both boys up for the summer league sponsored by the Salt Lake Bees.  The kids got t-shirts, hats, 2 tickets each to a Bee's game, and last night got their trophies and pictures.  They've already used half their baseball tickets to have a night out with dad a couple weekends ago and are going to another game in August - mom gets to stay home and the boys get a great night out with their dad.  Awesome!

Anyway, last night was the last game.  We've had 8 games in 5 weeks and the boys, especially the littles on Wyatt's team, really improved a lot.  Technically, the boys played "t-ball" but by the last game last night, every kid on both teams was hitting coach pitches and were really doing well.

Ross was the coach of both of the boys teams.  He is such a good dad because dealing with a bunch of crazy 5-6 year olds and 3-4 year olds for a couple hours a week is pretty crazy for a dad whose used to sitting next to the CEO in a meeting.  But, he did an excellent job, the boys loved him and he even got a couple of hugs last night...not from his own kids.

I was proud of all my boys.  I was even more happy to have the cool weather last night - it was cloudy and overcast and a great night to sit and be fat and swollen in my folding chair.

a week....

For as boring as life feels sometimes, it's generally quite the opposite.  Four weeks ago, as Memorial Day hit, I made a list of summer activities to do with the boys.  You know, the typical list of places to go, people to see, that sort of thing.

Well, Elliott starts kindergarten in 4 weeks.  Our list?  I lost it.  I cannot say that we are really hitting all (or any for that matter) the things I'd planned to do but we sure are busy and seem to be having a great time.

Wyatt is officially in a big boy bed and after almost a week, still hasn't wiped the smile off his face. He is IN LOVE with his bed, is sleeping like a champ, won't get out by himself in the morning, and is doing better than we'd ever have imagined. The crib is down for a few short weeks to be sanded and repainted (too many bite marks) and then the big boys will be sharing a room while the new baby gets his own.

We've spend a lot of time at Toys R Us lately, perusing the merchandise and picking up a few things for summer like a sandbox and lots of bubbles. You'd think the boys were at Disneyland, not a toy store but it works.

We wrapped up our first session of swimming lessons today. Elliott is an absolute fish and almost passed off two levels in a mere 8 lessons. Wyatt, not so much. The kid is not a fan of putting his face in the water and so we'll try swimming lessons again next year. Elliott had such a great time that I'm signing him up again and we'll be ready for round two next week. Now, we just need to get ourselves some time in Great Grandpa's pool.

T-ball is back in full swing two nights a week, two hours a night. Both boys are playing, dad is coaching both teams, and when Wyatt isn't crying because he didn't field the ball first or hit the ball far enough off the tee, he's really having fun. Elliott is doing so well his dad finally convinced him to bat left handed and he got some great hits. His dad may have even shed a tear at the first hit as a lefty.

And, perhaps most important, our cousin Isaac from Arizona has been here visiting for the week and the three boys have had some great cousin time.

And, what week would be complete with out some time with our other cousins, Molly-wog and Jackity Jack. Oh, we love playing with these guys too.

So I guess, it seems like we're pretty busy after all...

Mom duty...

...It's sort of like jury duty, but way different.

My 5 year old.  He is so smart and funny.  He's been really good this week and I am so grateful.  He is helpful and kind (mostly) and just really wants to be a good boy.  My mom says that I micromanage him, which I do (I cannot help it) but right at this very minute, I am not micromanaging him at all.  He is next door with his best good friend jumping on the trampoline.  I love him very much.  I am envious of his energy and enthusiasm.  There is a lot to be learned from this boy.

My 3 year old.  He is sweet and sensitive, a venus fly trap disguising itself as a delicate flower.  He is also sick.  He is having a rough week, still suffering the effects of dog exposure from 5 days ago.  I feel bad for him and his lungs.  He loves stickers and art projects and when we watch Peter Pan, he just cuddles up and snuggles on my lap like a little puppy.  With his little puppy.

*******

This afternoon, I was trying to talk to my husband on the phone.  I sent the boys away so that my burned out brain could finish a sentence.  Things got quiet.  Too quiet.  I assumed trouble but hoped for the best.  When I got off the phone and walked towards the deafening silence, muffled giggles filled my ears.  Those boys of mine - those brothers in crime - were hiding under my bed, having secret conversations about sea creatures, starfish in particular.  I startled both of them by lifting up the bed skirt and we all three had a good laugh...until the Chick tried to stand up under the bed and whacked his head on the frame.

*******

I've been thinking a lot lately about my role as a mother.  What it really means to be "the mom".  It is nothing that I ever expected it to be but it is such a valuable use of my time; not sure what else I would ever be or ever do that is as important.  Sure, I get frustrated and exhausted like every other mom out there, and I of course do my fair share of complaining but I really don't know what I would do without my kids.

Years ago, I used to think that I'd be a working mom.  That I would be able to balance family and work and church and everything else like my mom does and like my sister does.  But that isn't me.  I really enjoy being home, being causal, and hanging out with my kids.  What other job in the world lets me be a coach, a pitcher, a photographer, a teacher, a chef (and a short order cook), a crafter, a decorator and interior designer, a domestic servant, a nurse, a champion baby rocker, an occasional nap taker, an historian, a list maker, an organizer and planner, a fount of knowledge, a motivational speaker, a tickler and laughter, a punisher, an errand runner and Target shopper (and much more!) all at the same time. I get to go to the zoo and natural history museum by day, and watch House Hunters International by night.

Lately, I've been frustrated.  A little bummed out.  It could be the swollen ankles and the interior belly jabs bringing me down (and at least for the kicks, making me smile, too). Mostly because the joy in my journey has been a little lost on me.  Life just feels hard right now.  Like the bottom might fall out at any second.

Except the bottom is no where near falling out.

I'm just dramatic!

Spending countless hours a day as a "poop coach" - trying to convince my three year old to let it out instead of hold it in for days (and days and days) isn't such a glamorous or rewarding thing.  But, compared to a lot of other things I could be doing with my time these days, I suppose that I'll take sitting on the red stool in the bathroom shouting words of encouragement and giving high fives for bathroom success.

The Squirt: 3 year old stats

On Thursday, the little Chick went with his dad and brother to the doctor.  I had my own series of appointments to attend (the little twitchy one is already measuring 2 weeks ahead...and, well, I need A LOT of insulin to cook him properly).

(Incidentally, he gets to play t-ball in the summer league, but he can already hit a coach-pitched ball with a good deal of accuracy.  I'd say that means he's a show off!)

Anyway, the stats.  Elliott, at his 5 year old appointment in April was finally, for the first time since birth, on the charts for height and weight. He's always been in the 100 + percentile for his height and he's finally in the 95%, meaning that he is currently, at 5 years old, as tall as most 7.5 year olds and his weight, is well, skinny.  The kid looks like he just got out of a concentration camp, but I promise he hasn't.  Just for dinner on Friday night he ate a small rack of ribs, french fries, 4 chicken nuggets, a icee push-pop and 4 e.l. fudge cookies.  So, the kid is a lean, mean, fighting machine and is going to be at least as tall as his parents when he's 18 (I'd say by the time he's 14 but we'll have to wait and see).

The Chick?  He's a little more average, and poor guy, might only be six feet tall.  He weighs 37 pounds (only 7 less than his brother who is 2.5 years older) and is 38.5 inches tall. This puts him in the 50th percentile for weight and 75th for height.  What's interesting though?  The kid has grown four inches since last June.  His legs have got to hurt - that seems to me like some speed growth.

And guess what!  He's got the attitude to match.

The Averary

First of all, Tracy Aviary is expensive.  I forgot how expensive it was.  In talking to my sister last night, she reminded me that last year we went only because she had a coupon.  Duh!  I should have taken that into consideration.

Admission was $17 for the three of us.  The itty bitty plush owls I got suckered into buying (named Snowy and Frosting) cost me $14. Thirty-one dollars is a lot of money for the hour of entertainment we got.  But, we did have fun and we did get to meet our dad for lunch (another $17) on the way home so that made the whole morning excursion worth it.

We just probably won't be going back....without a coupon.

It's not like we really like birds, anyway.

But, my boys do enjoy excursions that involve maps and navigation.  It's fun to let them be in charge and figure out where we are at and what we are looking at.  It is also fun to see them get nervous (along with their mom) in a space with free flying birds and get excited to see raptors and birds of prey.  Condors are cool, but red-tail hawks are awesome.  And we saw pelicans being fed big fish and we saw flamingos doing this weird dance where they would wave their heads in unison, squish together in a group and then peck the crap out of each other.  Pretty fascinating actually.

And, for whatever reason, I still remember this crazy story my old fart English teacher in 9th grade made us read, "The Scarlet Ibis".  It was a super cool story and ever since, I've been a bit obsessed with the beauty of that particular bird.  Good thing there was a whole herd at the Aviary....

Which of course, Wyatt cannot pronounce.  "Averary", "Aveararrry", and "Avvvvrary" were his best three attempts during the day.

20 weeks

Today marks 20 weeks of expecting baby boy #3 and 20 weeks to go until he's here....give or take.  This whole baby process is a pretty amazing thing, it really is and this experience, this third time around, has been so different than the previous two that I'm super curious as to what the third little boy, the runt perhaps, has in store for me.

Elliott, 5 days old still in the hospital but finally opening his eyes.

When we were waiting for Elliott ("Gary") to get here I was sick and nervous and tired.  I was working full time.  It had just been brought to my attention that I was lucky enough to be a diabetic.  There was a lot of pressure (self created and inflicted) on me to do everything well.  I read books, read websites, monitored kicks and tried to control my anxiety...which at times was immense.

I was so nervous to be a mom.  I knew how to take care of a baby and a kid, but not full time and not one that belonged to me.  But, the excitement was overwhelming, the kicks and flips from the inside out a literal pain and the heartache of having a baby born early, with bad lungs, and stuck in a hospital for 9 days was pretty rough.  Minus when my grandmother's passed away years later, I don't think that I had ever cried so hard as the day I left the hospital and my chunky monkey stayed.

But, he came home and survived and thrived and became a giant fat Roley Polly who has turned into a vibrant and brilliant 5 year old.  We butt heads but I love this little boy more than anything.

Wyatt, one day old and sound asleep.

The second time around, I felt much more prepared.  I knew that I'd feel awful and wore my trusty pressure point wristbands nearly every day (and night) of the first 8 weeks or so.    But, even though I felt like puking all day long I had a giant two year old distraction keeping me busy and well...distracted.  Already having a kid, for me at least, was a great way to avoid being sick and miserable.  I probably let Elliott watch too much TV and eat too many chicken nuggets while waiting for the Chick to arrive but I was already entering mother of two survival mode.

Waiting for Wyatt to get here was very different than Elliott.  The anxiety and nerves were largely held at bay, the diabetes was very under control and if I would have known the personality of my number 2 son before, like I do now, the acrobatics and punches before he was born would have made much more sense.  This kid was captain destruction long before he was born.  

My greatest anxiety with the little Chickadee was that he, like his brother, would be sick at birth and have to stay in the hospital.  But, those extra 10 days of cooking, which nearly killed me, served him well and was with me in hours instead of days.  Bringing the number two boy home was hard, especially because his brother was sick.  Being a working (even if it was part-time) mother of two was more overwhelming than I ever anticipated it to be.  After 3 months of severe anxiety I was ready to be medicated to take the edge off and love my kids a little more than I was.

Now though, as he's a few weeks away from being three, I love him lots and lots.  Even if, and probably because he is crazy.  And, has chubby cheeks.

My third son, profile from 2 weeks ago.

This time around, this third boy has been so different.  I've been blessed by the grandmas in heaven to never be sick, except for a few weeks of going to bed early because I thought I might lose my mind...and my dinner.  My diabetes has been relatively under control, much more so than the previous two times.  This third time has been so "easy" (even though it hasn't - there have been a few things that have freaked me out) that minus the random daily "flutters", I'm still not totally convinced it's a baby.  A mass or growth or even a tumor? I even told Ross that we should rent a Doppler so I can make sure that there is a heartbeat, and not an alien plotting the demise of the human race.

My biggest concern this time around, is how to take care of an infant in the chaos that is our lives.  We, like everyone else, are busy and the schedules and the sleep deprivation and the feedings and the diapers...oh man.  Not sure I'm ready for it all over again.  But, I am ready to meet this kid.  Will he be a third clone - look just like his brothers, or will he be a redhead just to throw things off?  Will he be a tank or a twerp?  Will he be frantic like Elliott, peaceful like Wyatt, or a mix of the two?

I am excited.

Really, excited.

But that doesn't mean I'm going to talk about it again.  I'm too superstitious, to anxious, and too tired.

In a nutshell...

So, on Saturday it was time.  It was time to get rid of the diapers and move on to the big boy pants.  I'll admit, that diapers are easier and I've been lazy.  Toilet training probably could have happened a while ago but I just didn't have the energy.  I still don't have the energy.  Luckily I have a very smart boy who is one month away from being three years old and he was ready.  There have, of course, been protests and today only marks day three of this new adventure but so far so good.  Two nights with no problems and not a single accident since mid-day on Saturday.

My children, unlike their mother, have bladders made of steel.  And the Chick will do anything for candy.  One lemon head for the toilet and one for him to eat.

Dad was left in charge of the toilet training on Saturday morning because I am too intense.  So the older, annoying brother and I went out on a morning adventure.  It's hard to learn to pee in a toilet when your big brother is following you around with a cup full of water trying to get you to drink it and asking if you've peed yet.

The older boy and I ran errands, got lunch, and backed into a car, denting the crap out of the poor souls passenger side door.  She was from Las Vegas and luckily, very luckily, she was very, very, nice.

Not a bad way to spend a Saturday.  Right?

I thought it was funny

We're thinking about toilet training the Chick.  It's not something that I'm ready to tackle and not something I think he's ready for mentally.  Why do I think this?  Because the conversation usually goes this way:

Mama:  Wyatt, do you want to go pee-pee in the toilet?

Wyatt:  No!

Mama:  Why not?  Big boys go pee in the toilet.

Wyatt:  No sanks.  I like to pee in my pants.

Or like this:

Mama:  Hey Wyatt, are you ready to wear Phineas and Ferb big boy pants and use the toilet?

Wyatt:  Not today.

Mama:  Okay, when?

Wyatt:  How about in 7 days, like next Tuesday?

Then the other boy?  The older one who is super observant, he makes us laugh.  Last night we were getting ready to watch our Dad FREAK OUT while the BYU Cougars tried to lose a basketball game. Before the game started, the commentators were doing a BYU video flash back to when Danny Ainge was on the team and did this super cool full court dribble layup thing to win a game.

Elliott turned to his dad and said, "Dad, why aren't those basketball guys wearing shorts?"

Apparently the shorts of 25 years ago were so short, my son couldn't tell that they were even on.

The Ocean

On Sunday night of our trip, after our half day at Sea World and our yummy linner at Ruby's Diner we headed to the ocean.  Of course, I complained because I wasn't happy with the beach Ross selected  - mostly because I had to use the bathroom and all they had were a bunch of port-o-toilets.  But, when a girls gotta go, she's gotta go.  I picked the one whose door was flung open, figuring that it would be the least stinky, being aired out and all.  The experience was a bit traumatic, as all experiences in bright blue chemical toilet coffin's can be but I survived.  And, my survival was met by a beautiful message scrolled at my eye level on the door.

"Jesus loves you!" it said.  That was nice.  Especially on a Sunday.  A Sunday I chose not to attend church in a foreign state.

Anyway, the beach ended up being just perfect for the four of us.  It was sunset.  It was cold.  The little Chickadee was terrified of the water and the sand and the seagulls, and the kelp and the other people.  One of his parents was holding him the entire 40 minutes we stared out and watched the sunset.

The other child however, the 5 year old was completely enamored by the ocean - he always has been.  He got as close to stripping down and jumping in as we'd let him...which was just a quick roll of the pant legs and jacket sleeves.  He cavorted.  He giggled.  He splashed.  He got knocked over.  He had maybe the best time of the whole trip - except for when he saw Shamu.

Yes, there is something magical about the ocean isn't there?  The sounds, the smell, the sense of calm it can bring to your inner soul with the high tide waves crashing in and rolling out.  One day, I'm determined to spend some time in a house where the only sounds I hear all day long are the sounds of those waves crashing.

Until then, I'll just play the ocean button on my alarm clock that makes nature sounds.