Death and Christmas

Well, tonight's experience of putting up the Christmas tree didn't turn out like I expected. It actually did't get done at all...

Our house was filled with excitement as we finished up dinner and started opening up all the Christmas bins. We didn't have enough lights for the tree so Brian decided to run to the Family Dollar down the street while we kept Christmasing.

Important side note: Pandora was set to our Mariah Carey Christmas channel, which after liking a few songs, made an unwanted turn toward what I would name the Deep and Borderline Depressing Instrumental Christmas Channel. If you want the full effect, Google "Winter Solstice" by Michele McLaughlin and start that playing in the background. 

The kids started playing with this toy and it was quickly turning into a wrestling match. I told them to please stop and be careful with it because it was really special to me. I explained that my grandpa, who was in heaven, made it and I played with it when I was little.

This seemed to calm things down until a few minutes later when Madison asked in her sweet chipmunk voice, Mommy, do you miss yuh Gwanpa? Yes I do miss him. But I'm only a little bit sad because I get to see him again one day. Silas clarified, You get to see him when you die, right Mommy? That's right Silas.

Then Silas said really excitedly, I know who's going to die first in our family!! 
YOU Mommy! He stood up on his knees and pointed at me with a beaming smile. (Backstory: Silas once asked about dying and I told him about heaven and the hope we have about meeting Jesus, who loves us more than we could ever know, and being with God in a place better than we could ever imagine. He cried and cried saying that he was afraid to go there before me. When my describing the awesomeness of heaven couldn't mend his breaking five-year-old heart, I told him I would go before him, that he didn't have to worry about it.) His joyous delivery that I was going to die first got me laughing pretty hard.

I lifted my head with tears in my eyes but my chuckles quickly died down when I saw Madison in that state of silent crying where your face is winced up, mouth open, and you still haven't made a noise. With hiccup breathing she asked, Mommy, aw you gonna die???

Oh dear.

Yes Madison, everyone dies. And when we do, guess who is going to be there? God!! He is going to wrap us up in his arms and be so happy and we get to live with him and be in the best place. There are colors we have never seen before and we wont get hurt anymore and it is so much better than here.

Then I notice Silas is now in the silent crying ugly face state.

Oh no.

But Mommy, I'm scared to go because I'm bad!!!!!!

Welp. Time to set down the ornaments.

Yeah Silas, so am I. Everyone is. That's why Jesus came. If you'll let him, he has a blanket of goodness to wrap around you. He got the blanket because he took our punishment. Are you afraid God will be angry at you because you're bad?

Yes!!

Well when we follow Jesus and believe in him, we have Jesus' blanket wrapped around us. I need his blanket too. I mess up just like you do. Sometimes I'm mean and lie and act selfish. But I know God loves me and wants to wrap me up. I ask him to forgive me and he does! He LOVES us!

I looked at the tree and said, This is why Christmas is such a big deal and so special. Because it's when Jesus was born and came here to save us. That's really exciting because he's our superhero and it's our superhero's birthday.

Long story short(er), Silas had peace knowing Jesus covers him. It was the first time he really seemed to get it. What an awesome moment. But the attention quickly went back to the three-year-old took who needed to fully process the emotions that come with learning that everyone, including your mommy, dies. That's a biggie. And I was ok with it. I held her while she cried for a looooooong time.

And let's just say Brian was a little shocked after leaving a house filled with Mariah Carey's "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and kids squealing with excitement over Christmas goodies and returning to tear-jerker music, me sitting on the floor with Madison burying her head in my chest wailing Mommy aw you weeeeelly going to die?? I don't want you to die!!

He eventually jumped in and helped me try to lead them through learning about this painful part of life. He got to answer some fun questions about car accidents and plane crashes.

After a while I told the kids it was time to be happy and decorate the tree because we are all safe, Mommy and Daddy are healthy and feeling sad about dying was not for today. We could throw it far away because we didn't need it now.

We had to revisit the subject about 15 times after that but once I had the bright idea to CHANGE THE DAMNED CRYING CHRISTMAS MUSIC PANDORA STATION, things improved. Turns out the "Kids Christmas" channel with Winnie the Pooh singing Jingle Bells helps take your mind off of death.

The Christmas tree is now glowing in the living room with no decorations. We'll have to make another go at it tomorrow night.

Let's cross our fingers that no one asks where babies come from.

Heritage

My grandma (Mema) was recently diagnosed with Lymphoma. Before the diagnosis she was in great health so this came as a shock to her and all of the family.

Since the diagnosis I find myself watching as she talks to others. And I listen when she talks to me. I see a woman on a mission to give her worries to the one who made her and loves her. I notice that she's missing signs of resentment, bitterness, or pity. With calmness and peace she lets others care for her. She continues to love without fear. She doesn't have time to judge whether or not you want a hug so tight it will take your breath away, you better believe you're getting one. Even in the face of cancer she powerfully blesses the people around her.

Then there's my mom. Holy cow what I learn from her. I watch her take her mom dinner most week nights. She tenderly walks arm in arm with her while they shop. Her concern for her doesn't fade as the newness of chemo wears off and everyone else is back to their normal lives. She's a genuine lover. Incapable of pretense. I think she shows a glimpse of God's love that us humans don't experience often. That unique love that would never wonder what's the right thing to say or how can I make them feel better. An unwillingness to waste energy on anxiety or self-preservation when there's someone who needs caring for.

It was a profound moment when, surrounded by family in the peacefulness of camping on a crisp fall day, my mom shaved her head alongside her mom. One woman facing a threat to her life with courage and trust, another willing to sacrifice so her mom isn't alone.

What a legacy I follow.

What a privilege to learn how to love and live with depth and freedom from these women. 

What We've Been Up To

We survived a very colicky baby. It only lasted a month, from 3-7 weeks old, but the 12 hours she cried (more like screamed and shrieked) every day nearly did me in. Now she's just fussy in the evenings for about an hour or two, which seems like nothing. I think people that go through this should at least get a t-shirt. Or a little "CB" sticker to put on your back window, like the 26.2 stickers people get when they run a marathon.

My brother got married. They ran off to Vegas and took the plunge. I love these two people.

We went to the state fair. The kids had a blast. The highlights were Big Tex (they sat hypnotized by the "giant cowboy" for quite a while), the pig races, and us getting to play and be silly together.

Kennedy started smiling. She's more serious than the other two were at this age, but she loves for us to talk to her. And man does her sister ever love her. I've never known a child to care this intensely about a baby sibling.

She's declared that Kennedy's nickname shall be Banana Cupcake Darling.  

Kindergarten Or Bust!

A few weeks ago my first child went off to kindergarten.

I didn't trust myself the morning of his first day. As if spending the last five years intentionally investing every single day in a child you love to the depths of your soul and suddenly handing that job over to a stranger for the majority of the child's waking hours isn't hard enough, I'd just had a baby 3 days prior and knew I wasn't quite myself.

When we got inside I watched him walking away from me with his "Cars" backpack swinging with every step. For about 10 seconds tears fell as I let my mind wander back to the past. I could see his little 2 year old face, his diapered bottom, the way he used to talk. My throat tightened and my lungs were about to explode. I knew if this happened it was gonna be ugly. I mentally slapped myself, Not now Angie! I pulled it together, gave him a huge hug and made my exit, trying not to breathe.

I still need to find time for that breakdown/mourning session to happen. There's alot that needs to be processed. My journey with this child has been so life-changing. Fighting for him, desperately trying to understand his sensory difficulties. Battling against my flesh, learning to choose ways that lead to life like asking for forgiveness and refusing resentfulness of the hard moments. Freedom-filled days going to the zoo or the playground or wherever we wanted, making rich memories.

And I know the journey isn't over, but it is certainly different. We (especially Madison) miss him during the day. I've already gotten to talk and pray with him about difficulties with friends. About being afraid to speak up and ask for help. About trying to encourage more and compete less.

I sure love being a part of helping him grow. He's a pretty special guy.

Epidural vs. Natural (Kennedy's Birth Story)

I somewhat unintentionally gave birth naturally the other day.

Please stop reading if you're squeamish or not wanting to get too personal. Because it's about to get personal. 

I had been debating whether or not to get an epidural. Brian and I listed the pros and cons the night before the induction.

Pros:
1. No pain (I thought this counted for 15 pros)
2. Less severe episiotomy (more time to stretch because the urge to push is controllable)

Cons:
1. Dangerous when you have SPD because you can't feel when you're hips are being pushed beyond their limits, can lead to permanent damage
2. Risks, including spinal leak (which happened with Silas' birth, horrible experience)
3. You miss out on the powerful natural experience of childbirth

After listing these, Brian lovingly said "Angie, you'll cave and get the epidural."

I agreed. With Silas I'd labored to a "6" and was shivering with intense pain, grabbing the anesthesiologist in desperation. I knew a little bit of what awaited me and I wasn't lying to myself about it. (With Madison I got an epidural early because my OB knew that after the birth she was doing reconstruction to repair damage from the previous 9 pound, 6 ouncer's exit)

So that's where we left it. I would wait and make the decision in the midst of the pain. The pain has a way of making the epidural seem much less scary. We both knew I'd probably get the epidural. But a small part of me heard my mother's voice reciting my birth story, "I never had any pain with you. You were out in 3 pushes!" And then there was the "Once you start pushing it's such a relief. If you can just make it to that point, you've got it." Deep down I wanted the experience for myself.
But then again I didn't.

Here I am, filled with naivety. 

That morning, when the nurses asked about my plan I kept saying I was going to wait and see but most likely I'd be getting an epidural. They started the pitocin drip and over the course of a few hours they checked me and I was at a 4. Encouraging. Pain level: 3. She upped the pitocin.

A few more hours went by and I started having to lightly breath through contractions. Pain level: 5.  They checked me again and we were all discouraged that I was still at a 4. I looked at Brian and told him I didn't think I wanted to do this. The doctor told the nurse to increase the pitocin again.

My pain went fairly quickly to about a 7. I put in headphones and all I wanted to listen to was Bruce Sprinstein's Secret Garden. I stopped caring who was talking to me or in the room when a contraction came. Brian would fan my face, my toes would curl and as the pain swelled and swelled, the craziest stream of thoughts would flood my mind as I tried to breath. They ranged from German cuss words I learned from my old soccer team to good ole English ones followed by Jesus help me! I'm not a big swearer either so I was shocked by what was going on in my brain.

My thoughts vacillated between "Holy Mother, there's no way" to "This is something you've always wanted and this is the last chance to do it." I prayed in and out of contractions, "What should I do? You know better than anyone." I felt like I should go 5 more contractions. I counted them down, gripping the bed, frantically fanning myself at this point (Brian wasn't quite aggressive enough).

After the fifth contraction the nurse came in and I asked if she would check me again. It had only been 20 minutes since the doctor had checked me and said I was at a 4. She obliged and we were all shocked when she said I was at a 7. She told me I would probably be at a 10 in the next 30 minutes.

A 10 you say? My mama told me when I got to a 10 and started pushing it would stop hurting and everything would be ok.

Maybe I can do this. I think I can do this for 30 more minutes.

I told Brian I couldn't be quiet anymore. He told me to go for it, whatever I needed to do. Song switched to "Love Is Not A Fight" by Warren Barfield. The bed shook and a soft yell grew with every contraction. Pain grew 8, 9. It felt like I went into a violent trance, another world.

The nurse told me I could still have an epidural, even if I was at a 10. But they were getting the baby's station ready. That was promising. Plus my mom told me that once I started pushing everything would be ok.

20 more minutes had gone by. A contraction came and I felt something new. For a millisecond I wanted to bear down and push. Oh dear Jesus, have I made it to the promised land? I told Brian to page the nurse and spread the good news! He enthusiastically told her "She has a strong urge to push!" The nurse rushed in and I clarified that I had a tiny urge to push, a strong urge to die.

She went ahead and checked me and that's when the real craziness started. Honey you're at a 10, plus 2 (who knows what that means but it sounded like extra credit to me). A few more brain rattling contractions while an entourage of staff rushed around the room. Hmm, I'm confused because the contractions still seem to be getting worse. Mama?

Then my wonderful doctor came in. She confirmed it was time.

Whoa whoa whoa. Wait a minute everyone. Push? I'm riding this bucking bull of mind numbing pain and yeah I may want to push here and there in the midst of the chaos but, wait you're putting my feet in the stirrups? Everyone assured me I was at the end, I was so close.

My doctor knew my mom (my mom used the be the nurse at her office) so I felt comfortable sharing my confusion at this point. I told her with all sincerity that my mom said this was supposed to be the good part. Something wasn't right. This was terrible. I'd made a horrible decision. I looked at all 5 nurses/student doctors gathered around and told them if they have kids please promise me they'll get an epidural. It's sohohoho much better. This was just terrible.

Little did I know I still had to get past the ring of fire. (I hadn't prepared for all this. I was planning on caving, remember?) I pushed through two contractions repeating again that my mom told me this was supposed to be the good part! Can anyone hear me out there? This hurts worse than anything. The doctor told me she would be out in two more pushes. Everyone had a good laugh as I talked to myself out loud, "This really was a terrible decision. Why would anyone do this?"

That's when it happened. I had another contraction and according to Brian, I pushed her out just enough to where the top of her head and forehead were out. Then the contraction stopped. The nurses told me to relax. I was still quiet as a mouse pushing until my face was purple. What was going through my head was "Like hell I will!!!!!!" Whatever point I was at, I knew it was no place to stop. When I finally took in a breath I let out a scream and yelled at the doctor to stop whatever it was she was doing!! She lifted her hands and said it's not me, this is the ring of fire, she's almost out. She'll be out in the next contraction. I could hardly breath for the pain. I screamed and couldn't believe how long it was taking for the next contraction. I prayed out loud for God to please make it come. When it did I pushed with every ounce of my body, let out a final primal scream for the unspeakable pain,
and she was out.

Everyone celebrated. We cried and held her. There she was, this beautiful child.
I took a deep breath. I was filled with thankfulness that it was over and everyone was ok. I knew this wasn't something to take for granted.

What I didn't count on, however, was the following 30 minutes that were spent massaging my belly so hard it made tears stream down my face (I had a very stubborn placenta). And then the stitching.

I laid in that bed in disbelief that I had wished this on myself. I still can't. The thought of going through it again sends shivers down my spine. 

This is where I think my perspective differs from others', like my Mom's, who only ever experienced natural childbirth. They have no point of reference to judge how bad it really is. It's all they know. They don't know what it's like to spend labor resting in the quiet, laughing and joking with family, trying/pretending to push because you can't feel a dang thing. And to hold the baby in pure bliss, oblivious to any processes going on after the birth.

A small part of me is glad I didn't have to go through getting the epidural (although it's really not that bad). I'm glad I wasn't sick after the birth like I was in the past from the medicine. And I'm glad there was no chance of anything going wrong with the epidural.

With that said, what I know beyond a shadow of a doubt is that I would NEVER do that to myself again. I lacked the presence of mind to care at all about my SPD or how my hips felt when it came time to push. But more than that, it was simply terribly painful. I look back and feel sorry that I had to go through that. Mainly the pushing phase and delivering the placenta. Man alive. Looking back, an epidural is like a warm blanket of protection that can give the gift of enjoying birth.

As a disclaimer, it's a little scary describing my labor experience because it's often such an emotionally charged issue. I realize I'm just one drop in a sea of women who have given birth and there are many different perspectives on this subject. 

No matter the method of arrival, the blessing that comes at the end is worth it, a million times over. 

And speaking of that blessing, let's move on to what's really on all our minds.
This is what I get to look at all day.

She's affectionately known as "Stink Bait" around these parts. (The "in" thing to do with umbilical cords these days is to not clean it and let it rot and fall off much faster. The only problem is that it reeks like rotting flesh, which it happens to be. You could smell it through layers of clothes and swaddled in a blanket.) But stinky or not, we really really really like her. What a precious gift!

Kennedy's Here!

There was nervous but genuine brotherly love. 

And her sister, oh dear. She could hardly contain herself.

Newborn love. Nothing like it. 

Pre-labor Ramblings

Well the end of my third pregnancy is very near (it will be over in the next 12 or so hours) and there's alot on my mind. And since I haven't written anything down about this episode in our lives I thought I probably should.

First I want to say to our little addition that although we haven't documented much about you so far, you are very much wanted and dearly loved!

Here are our manly men putting your room together.

You were a complete surprise to us. We thought we were done, gave away all our baby gear, mentally started the shift to accept that our family of four was complete. The doctors had strongly suggested I not get pregnant again for health reasons and we thought we had decided to comply.

New years eve night we were in Houston with Brian's family. I felt like something was really wrong. I was tired and shivering cold but had no fever. I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. I started Googling until I landed on low thyroid. Well at least I knew what was wrong now. I would have to see the doctor when we got back home.

But Brian kept insisting that I consider the possibility of being pregnant. You shut your mouth, I told him. Against my will he sent his brother to get a test from the store and I will never forget the disbelief I felt as I watched the second line faintly appear. After riding wave after wave of differing emotions, I emerged downstairs with a tear stained face to let everyone know the news.

One thing I knew was that I would look back over my life and never be able to imagine it without you.

This pregnancy hasn't been easy. I have SPD (Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction) which is basically where my body has produced too much "relaxin" hormone resulting in alot of hip and groin pain and instability. Remember the scene from Forrest Gump where he's running with braces on his legs and he goes to fast they start busting apart? That's what it feels like when I move most of the time. There's alot of popping, shifting and pain. The good news is that it should make for an easy delivery.

Everything else in the pregnancy has been pretty similar to the other two. Extreme tiredness in the beginning, good spirits most of the rest of the time. Having to sleep in a recliner, The strange scratching (or more like knifing) feeling going on in my womb. I told Brian if I die before him, I really want him to request and attend the autopsy and ask that they check out my uterus for carvings. I picture etchings like "Silas wuz here" and "Madison rocks."

Brian graciously snapped this photo of me in my sleeping glory. The yo gabba gabba blanket makes a great pillow. And the cane behind the chair is for waking my snoring husband who can't hear my voice. We love each other. 

These are the feelings and impressions I've had about you. I think you will be incredibly deep. Very confident and somewhat quiet. Hopeful and intelligent.

When I was pregnant with Madison the words bright, sunny, and clear always came to mind. And that has been pretty accurate. I had no clue about Silas, I guess I was an amateur.

I have been so looking forward to those sweet indescribable moments in the beginning. The feeding and tiny preciousness. But as I'm a few days out, I'm batting fear. Fear of the injuries associated with pushing a small human out of your body. Fear of the sleep deprivation and hormonal imbalances and how it will affect my marriage and ability to mother.

I'm asking my Father to help me have joy and to rest in the peace of knowing I walk with the great Healer. That he has grace for me. That he has GOOD things, things we don't even know about, waiting for us in this new season. May my hope in Him replace the fear with excitement. That I would "smile at the future." He is always faithful!

I am so grateful for this surprise. I thank God for you little girl, the blessing growing inside me.

p.s. Your brother and sister are pretty darned excited to meet you. They've been talking to you for a while, especially your sister who sings you songs about protecting you and kisses and hugs before she goes to bed every night. I think you're gonna like them.

Here they are getting paid a quarter to rub my swollen feet. A whole quarter!

Little Thespians

The kids wanted to practice their angry faces at dinner. 

Pretty convincing eh?

Acting!

Silas went for extra difficulty and busted out the angry turtle.

People, It's Only A Paint Respirator!

I'm afraid I'm becoming that lady. You know, the one that lives in that house that all the kids in the neighborhood talk about. The house with something mysterious going on.

Over the past few months Brian's been replacing the windows in our house and adding trim around them. My job has been to go behind him and paint. These windows face all directions and never have blinds at the time I'm painting so I see all the neighbors and kids playing in the street, riding bikes down the sidewalk, etc.

I've gotten some weird stares but it wasn't until Silas snapped this picture of me with my phone that it finally dawned on me what everyone has been seeing through the other side of the window.

A lady with a huge belly wearing a scary mask. Painting...up and down, up and down.
I can just hear them, "Look! She's in a different window tonight."

I guess we'll know why if we don't get any trick or treaters this year.

Attempted Comeback

My little blog. How I've neglected it. Somewhere along the way I lost my photo editing software and apparently that was all that was keeping us together.

But I just read some old posts and remembered how much I like writing and remembering our stories.

And my brother bought me a new photo editing program for my birthday, which happened to be months ago, so I really can't use that excuse anymore.

With that said, I'm going to make an attempt to jump back in. Two weeks before my third child is born. Timing has always been my thing.

Our lives have been so very full lately. Aside from the more meaningful things, we added a room in the house to make space for the baby. That sounds so simple, all wrapped up in one little statement. It wasn't. Brian spent many precious free hours working so hard to get it done. And he did a really good job. After that, we remodeled the two girl rooms and got everyone situated. Again, not simple.

We finally finished unpacking our belongings which had become infested with brown recluse spiders from storage. One day will document that process in detail but I can't relive it at the moment.

I've been growing a baby. I can't wait to meet her. I want so badly to hold her and nurse her and hear her little noises and cries. And get her out of my body. (I haven't had my token break down moment where I cry in Brian's arms and tell him I can't breathe and I don't think I'll make it much longer in my fat suit, but I think it's coming.)

Our best photo from our eventful summer San Antonio vacation. 

I'm sure there is much more but that's all for tonight.

I hope to be back again on a regular basis.

Time for Trouble

Today was a special afternoon with Silas. It was simple but it was the kind that I treasure.

I found the game Trouble for $3 at the local consignment store while the kids were at school today 

and Silas and I busted it out during Madison's nap.

It was a nail biter but I came out victorious in the end (I'm not the biggest fan of letting my kids win.) 

I did, however, make the loss less painful by doing an awesome victory dance that had him rolling.

After the game we had a snack on the couch and he told me about school 

(in great entertaining detail) and read me a book he made.

That boy's love language is most definitely quality time. 

And it's especially powerful when his competition is napping.

Dimples mean his happy meter is off the charts.

Mash's Happenings

Sometime in the last month my sweet baby girl gave up her pacifier, grew long skinny legs, started speaking in paragraphs, and almost effortlessly switched from diapers to toilets. (Don't worry, I paid my dues with Silas who took years filled with sweat and tears).

Here is the first poop! It was impressive but I thought I'd spare you.

She read one of my old childhood chapter books to pass the time.

Silas Turned 5!

We decorated with streamers on his bedroom door and balloons throughout the house (he woke Brian up in the middle of the night disturbed by the "ugly trap" someone made at his door)

Daddy went to work late and cooked a blueberry pancake breakfast for us. We blessed Silas, telling him what we love about him and remembering stories from his younger years.
Madison shared stories about herself in between. She REALLY struggled with Silas' birthday today. I think her faith is wavering that she will ever have one of her own.  

We made a stop by Chuck E. Cheese to pass the morning.

Then Chick-fil-A for lunch, including ice cream.

The day ended with a pizza dinner by the lake with his buddies followed by more ice cream and games of chase, hide & seek, and races.

He may have gone to bed delirious and screaming from exhaustion but I'd say he had a fun day.

And for the year to come, I have so much anticipation for him. It should be a pretty big one. Kindergarten and becoming a big brother to another sibling!

Watching him grow would be on my "Angie's Favorite Things" list. What a privilege it is to be a mother to such a smart and passionate little man. I wouldn't trade this guy for anyone.

Dr. Dance

In the middle of moving madness (and one might say that's an understatement, but that's a story for another day) Madison had to go to the doctor. He said his name was Dr. Dance because heartbeats make him dance.

Valentine's 2012

It was rough. I did something to my neck so severely that the chiropractor wasn't willing to work on it. I was stuck in bed in the same position for 3 days, trying to move only my eyeballs, waiting for the inflammation to subside.

I watched my husband juggle the kids, work, me, cleaning, and the list goes on.

It was when he walked me, shuffling and stiff, to the shower, helped me wash my hadn't been bathed in 4 days body, and gently dried my hair with a towel, all the while knowing nothing awaited him but a night of waking up to give me meds, I thought to myself, I am loved. 

He even agreed to let me take his picture from my station in bed. 

I like him. 

For the kids we managed to pull off homemade valentines and cookies.

They loved making them. I was surprised by how selective they were about who got which stickers. 

That stuff can't be taken lightly. 

Evidence

Let this serve as proof that on occasion I do let my children enjoy a snack ridden with 

artificial coloring, preservatives, etc. 

I just have a feeling one day I will hear about this so I want to set the record straight. 

Movie Fail

The other night I was burdened that Brian needed rest. He'd been working overtime and I suggested that we all watch a movie together instead of the normal routine of him playing with the kids for hours.

I scrolled through the recordings and found "Soul Surfer." Perfect! A safe family film with waves and surfing to keep the kids interested and it might actually be entertaining for Brian and I.

Look how heartwarming. 

We all got good and invested. Madison laid on my lap and Silas snuggled with Daddy.
Angie, your ideas are awesome.

Then a great white shark came out of the water and bit the girls arm off.

The bloody stump gushed everywhere.

People were hysterical and screaming.

My eyes got huge and I looked at Brian. I didn't realize this was part of the plot line. I couldn't see Madison's face but Silas was just sitting there looking stoic. Maybe they didn't notice the shark after all. Whew.

Then after about a minute we heard Madison's squeaky little voice,
  "Why dat whale bite dat guls ahm off!!??"

And the questions started coming like machine gun fire.

Silas: Mommy, is that girl gonna die?
Are there sharks in water?
Why do sharks want to eat us?
Is her arm still in the shark's belly?
What's going to happen to her arm in his belly?
Is the arm still in his belly?
Do sharks like the way we taste?
Is her arm still in his belly?
Does that shark have an arm in it's belly?
What's the arm doing in the shark's belly?

Madison: Why dat whale bite dat guls ahm off!!??
But why?
But why he want to eat huh?
But why?
Why dat whale bite dat guls ahm off?

Silas: I want to see that arm.
Is the arm in the shark's belly?
Does the shark like the taste of that arm?

You get the idea.

The movie wasn't much fun after that. We were lucky to get through 5 minutes of movie before the questions started up again.

I couldn't blame them though. That can't be easy to process.