If the dress could talk
There was a little something unexpected hanging in one of the closets in the home we've put an offer on. A wedding dress. My guess is 70's era, it is long sleeved but reminds me a little of my Mom's. It's in a clear plastic covering, and angled almost as though it's a good luck charm, a superstition of sorts.
You see, most everything else in the house has been removed, besides some odds and ends. It doesn't make sense that something so special would be left behind forever. Unless, of course divorce was the culprit of the house sale, but we know that the family has relocated.
We also know that the sellers are the original owners. They have taken care to prepare what was their home for eighteen years by updating the kitchen and laying hardwood floors throughout. There are hints about their interests practically within the walls. One bedroom has built in bookshelves, and flourescent lights, as though it was used as an office, or perhaps a craft or sewing room. The basement is very utilitarian. Industrial tiled floor and cabinets indicate somebody was a handyman. Before you get to the former workshop, their are built in bookcases at the bottom of the steps into the basement. There's a country-ish wallpapered bathroom down there as well. Dated, perhaps, but in conjunction with the weathered bench out front and the rabbit figurines in the flowerbed, the fall themed flag hanging above the garage.... this was someone's home. For a long time.
I remember being offended at the first offer we received on our first home. We countered and eventually closed the deal. I remember saying goodbye that last time, to the place where I returned after my babies were born, the neighborhood where family, neighbors, and church family welcomed them and encouraged me while I faced the first few weeks of parenthood with my husband several hundred miles away. I remember planting daffodil bulbs and rose bushes, digging my flowerbed around the mailbox. My first neighborhood was filled with friends who saw us grow from being newlyweds to parents. It saddens me to think that my daughter already only remembers bits and pieces about her first home and its surrounding community..
If that dress could talk, would it tell stories of the children whose feet grew from pitter patters to stomps as they went up and down the stairs and down the long upstairs hallway? Would it recount conversations about plans to install those built in bookcases, arguments, perhaps, about what project to tackle next? Tears as children were sent off to college somewhere? Family holidays in the dining room and kitchen area with that big island. Where did they play monopoly or cards? Was there a piano in the living room where I hope to place my grandmother's piano?
I know I should not get attached yet. I know that it is entirely possible that we may go through all this negotiating and walk away empty handed.
How can you put a price on memories? On a home that has experienced all the love and changes, on walls that have so many stories they could tell if they could even speak. Just a house, to some.
They were surprised by our "low" offer, surely, I hope not insulted, though as I think about it I would not be surprised if they were. We did our research and tried to be fair based on comps, etc... We have our budget, we have saved in hopes of finally purchasing a home that we can stay in for a long time, and we had to remain objective in the process of formulating an offer.
However, that aged wedding dress which has been hung with care reminds me that once upon a time a young family built their dream home, then stayed for a long while, unlike so many of us who have had to be more transient. I hope that negotiations will succeed, and we'll get the chance to make as many priceless memories there as surrounded that dress.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Friday, January 07, 2011
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Pardon my rant
We've had people suggest we can "just rent" until we find that perfect home for us 5 hours away. I agree, sort of. At least, to their face. (We've been looking since October, it's not like we just started this house hunt.) What I really want to say, is a little bit more like this:
Are you volunteering to pack and move our stuff or pay for the expense twice? This is not a company paid move. It comes out of our saving account and takes away from the amount we could invest into a home. You are welcome to come bring a team of movers or finance both gigs if you would like, but I am not doing this twice if I can help it. Furthermore, packing with a 5 year old and 2 year old is not easy.
Have you been living in temporary housing situations with half the personal space you are used to for a year and a half? No? Then don't tell me I should continue doing so. Unless you've been living in barracks and fighting for our freedom, or you too have been in an uncomfortable place with unrealistic morons who moved in below you and expect your children to sit still and not play because they are too loud, you really don't have a right to tell me that looking for another apartment is the best choice. Although I will miss the maintenance help. (Our previous neighbor, who relocated across the country, never called to management to complain, so we can't be THAT loud. Perhaps she is just a saint.)
The reality is that if we don't find a house that suits us, we will figure it out, we may rent a house or condo without neighbors above or below. Because buying a home is a huge investment, and one we do want to be confident in. But really, people, especially those who don't know us well, it's not as simple and practical as it sounds. So keep your "sound" advice to yourself unless it's requested.
I had to vent a little bit. Don't take it personally any more than you would want me to take your well meaning advice as an insult to my intelligence.
We've had people suggest we can "just rent" until we find that perfect home for us 5 hours away. I agree, sort of. At least, to their face. (We've been looking since October, it's not like we just started this house hunt.) What I really want to say, is a little bit more like this:
Are you volunteering to pack and move our stuff or pay for the expense twice? This is not a company paid move. It comes out of our saving account and takes away from the amount we could invest into a home. You are welcome to come bring a team of movers or finance both gigs if you would like, but I am not doing this twice if I can help it. Furthermore, packing with a 5 year old and 2 year old is not easy.
Have you been living in temporary housing situations with half the personal space you are used to for a year and a half? No? Then don't tell me I should continue doing so. Unless you've been living in barracks and fighting for our freedom, or you too have been in an uncomfortable place with unrealistic morons who moved in below you and expect your children to sit still and not play because they are too loud, you really don't have a right to tell me that looking for another apartment is the best choice. Although I will miss the maintenance help. (Our previous neighbor, who relocated across the country, never called to management to complain, so we can't be THAT loud. Perhaps she is just a saint.)
The reality is that if we don't find a house that suits us, we will figure it out, we may rent a house or condo without neighbors above or below. Because buying a home is a huge investment, and one we do want to be confident in. But really, people, especially those who don't know us well, it's not as simple and practical as it sounds. So keep your "sound" advice to yourself unless it's requested.
I had to vent a little bit. Don't take it personally any more than you would want me to take your well meaning advice as an insult to my intelligence.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thank God for hotel points!
I think Hubby calculated that between our house hunting trips and the August trip to Memphis, we've used 9 free hotel nights. So I am currently very grateful for his travel, though lately Bear has commented about how much she misses him when he is away for work. Our future home base is en route by detour from where we spent Christmas, and we stopped in to view 3 homes today. Each kiddo is sleeping with a parent because it just works better than way when we're in hotels. I completely forgot to pack our swimsuits, but I did get to take a quick trip to the superstore by myself, and Bear and I split some hot chocolate from the lobby. Those count as vacation moments, right? Since Buddy got carsick about 35 minutes up the road from our first house to view, the kiddos got to help daddy do laundry. I also got to show Bear where we get ice in the hotel since our fridge does not have any. :) (The hot chocolate needed help cooling down to drinkable warm chocolate.) This is not the first house hunting trip we've taken, just the first I have announced publicly.
The chaos is about to set in. When we are here, near the mountains and lakes, we are increasingly excited about the next phase and ready to find a place to settle. When we get to our current hometown, I know the reality of leaving some wonderful new friends will set in. Along with the need-for-meds-inducing-anxiety that may accompany moving. I will also be reserving waffle fry boxes from my favorite restaurant. (Some of our friends were able to get them for us for our last move. Last week, I talked to one of our favorite staff members and she said we could ask management to hold some for us here, too. Whew.)
When it's all said and done, I hope Bear remembers the fun things like hot cocoa making in her jammies and robe, exploring different houses, and our other adventures in preparation for yet another big change.
I think Hubby calculated that between our house hunting trips and the August trip to Memphis, we've used 9 free hotel nights. So I am currently very grateful for his travel, though lately Bear has commented about how much she misses him when he is away for work. Our future home base is en route by detour from where we spent Christmas, and we stopped in to view 3 homes today. Each kiddo is sleeping with a parent because it just works better than way when we're in hotels. I completely forgot to pack our swimsuits, but I did get to take a quick trip to the superstore by myself, and Bear and I split some hot chocolate from the lobby. Those count as vacation moments, right? Since Buddy got carsick about 35 minutes up the road from our first house to view, the kiddos got to help daddy do laundry. I also got to show Bear where we get ice in the hotel since our fridge does not have any. :) (The hot chocolate needed help cooling down to drinkable warm chocolate.) This is not the first house hunting trip we've taken, just the first I have announced publicly.
The chaos is about to set in. When we are here, near the mountains and lakes, we are increasingly excited about the next phase and ready to find a place to settle. When we get to our current hometown, I know the reality of leaving some wonderful new friends will set in. Along with the need-for-meds-inducing-anxiety that may accompany moving. I will also be reserving waffle fry boxes from my favorite restaurant. (Some of our friends were able to get them for us for our last move. Last week, I talked to one of our favorite staff members and she said we could ask management to hold some for us here, too. Whew.)
When it's all said and done, I hope Bear remembers the fun things like hot cocoa making in her jammies and robe, exploring different houses, and our other adventures in preparation for yet another big change.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Like you've always known them
About four years ago, I began blogging as a way to post pictures to share with the Grandparents. I quickly decided a needed a place of my own, one where I could write about whatever I thought or felt at the moment. I blame my sister in law for giving me the idea, though her blog is now stagnant. I quickly found friends from my past who introduced me to other Moms like myself in so many ways. Our situations were different, but we found ourselves discussing parenting, individuality, and whatever randomness crossed our minds. Blogging became therapy during difficult transitions, my new friends like an extended family of sorts.
One of those friends moved to the area where we happen to be visiting, er, overstaying our welcome. (I hope it doesn't feel that way to our hosts, and that I am just anxious about all that needs to get done upon our return South.) And she and her family came over last night.
It was wonderful. To see someone you have laughed with and cried with in this virtual reality called cyberspace, to give them a hug or two as if you have known each other forever. To find that they are as honest and real and fun to talk to in person, and that bond you share from communicating is not just imagined, a nd the pseudonym is easily replaced by her real name.
About four years ago, I began blogging as a way to post pictures to share with the Grandparents. I quickly decided a needed a place of my own, one where I could write about whatever I thought or felt at the moment. I blame my sister in law for giving me the idea, though her blog is now stagnant. I quickly found friends from my past who introduced me to other Moms like myself in so many ways. Our situations were different, but we found ourselves discussing parenting, individuality, and whatever randomness crossed our minds. Blogging became therapy during difficult transitions, my new friends like an extended family of sorts.
One of those friends moved to the area where we happen to be visiting, er, overstaying our welcome. (I hope it doesn't feel that way to our hosts, and that I am just anxious about all that needs to get done upon our return South.) And she and her family came over last night.
It was wonderful. To see someone you have laughed with and cried with in this virtual reality called cyberspace, to give them a hug or two as if you have known each other forever. To find that they are as honest and real and fun to talk to in person, and that bond you share from communicating is not just imagined, a nd the pseudonym is easily replaced by her real name.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
When it all starts coming together, it's still a little crazy.
Of course, with me involved, I think crazy is expected. We have some big changes coming within the next 2 months. No, I am not pregnant and delivering a child in record time. No, we're not welcoming another adopted child into our family. (In case you missed, oh, wait, I have not blogged about it- my sister adopted an adorable baby boy about 2 months ago. He is awesome.)
The kitchen I last posted about? Will be a memory, Lord willing replaced by one with twice as many cabinets and storage space. (I don't think that's too much to expect given the measurements of what I deal with.)
The teenagers playing loudly in the complex pool at 1 a.m. during the summer? Will be the problem of the neighbor below us, who have lived here MAYBE a month and already complained about the resident elephants in our apartment at 7:30 p.m. (I told property management that we were working with the kiddos, but I don't appreciate going onto my balcony and breathing in cigarette smoke. Or my bathrooms. Their smoke comes up through the walls.)
I will be glad to have a real mailbox again, not one reminiscent in size to the little cubbies we had in the dorm in college.
I will park my car in the garage, period. Hubby can have the driveway until we get everything sorted through after the move. I have to wrangle the munchkins, I get the parking. Or maybe we'll get a 3 car.
I will send out "we've moved!" announcements. OR perhaps I will just send e-mails and wait til next Christmas. (That looks likely at this rate.)
Grumpiness aside, things ARE going well. Can't go into details, but God continues to show his faithfulness in all the details, timing is everything, and we know that He'll show the next steps (including whether to rent our buy once we leave the apartment.
The holidays are magical to kids. There's a lot I could probably learn from them. We have a small little tree, a cramped apartment, and my kids are loving the lights and decorations we put up, making treats to bring to our relatives, and dreaming of snow. We live in central Georgia. It's in the 60's on this first day of Winter. But we are headed north, so it's not an unreasonable thing to get excited about.
One of my friends shared yesterday that she wants to bang her head against the wall. I feel the same way quite often. But I can only imagine how brain injury might impact this particular breed of crazy. ;-)
Another friend (Farm Wife) reminisced about the multitude of moves she has endured in her lifetime... I may just have to think back on my moves, but I know it can't be as many as she has been through. :)
Of course, with me involved, I think crazy is expected. We have some big changes coming within the next 2 months. No, I am not pregnant and delivering a child in record time. No, we're not welcoming another adopted child into our family. (In case you missed, oh, wait, I have not blogged about it- my sister adopted an adorable baby boy about 2 months ago. He is awesome.)
The kitchen I last posted about? Will be a memory, Lord willing replaced by one with twice as many cabinets and storage space. (I don't think that's too much to expect given the measurements of what I deal with.)
The teenagers playing loudly in the complex pool at 1 a.m. during the summer? Will be the problem of the neighbor below us, who have lived here MAYBE a month and already complained about the resident elephants in our apartment at 7:30 p.m. (I told property management that we were working with the kiddos, but I don't appreciate going onto my balcony and breathing in cigarette smoke. Or my bathrooms. Their smoke comes up through the walls.)
I will be glad to have a real mailbox again, not one reminiscent in size to the little cubbies we had in the dorm in college.
I will park my car in the garage, period. Hubby can have the driveway until we get everything sorted through after the move. I have to wrangle the munchkins, I get the parking. Or maybe we'll get a 3 car.
I will send out "we've moved!" announcements. OR perhaps I will just send e-mails and wait til next Christmas. (That looks likely at this rate.)
Grumpiness aside, things ARE going well. Can't go into details, but God continues to show his faithfulness in all the details, timing is everything, and we know that He'll show the next steps (including whether to rent our buy once we leave the apartment.
The holidays are magical to kids. There's a lot I could probably learn from them. We have a small little tree, a cramped apartment, and my kids are loving the lights and decorations we put up, making treats to bring to our relatives, and dreaming of snow. We live in central Georgia. It's in the 60's on this first day of Winter. But we are headed north, so it's not an unreasonable thing to get excited about.
One of my friends shared yesterday that she wants to bang her head against the wall. I feel the same way quite often. But I can only imagine how brain injury might impact this particular breed of crazy. ;-)
Another friend (Farm Wife) reminisced about the multitude of moves she has endured in her lifetime... I may just have to think back on my moves, but I know it can't be as many as she has been through. :)
Friday, November 05, 2010
Culinary Therapy
I hate my kitchen. It's tiny. There is almost no counter space: 2 feet above the dishwasher, next to the sink, one foot on either side of the stove.
Well, it has been a handy excuse not to cook this past 15 months in the apartment. We eat out a lot. But occasionally, I actually WANT to cook, and I actually want to enjoy the process. When DH is out of town, I pretty much give up and we eat out a lot.
Tonight, in hopes that DH might be home in time for supper, I decided to make a good meal. Plus, I do get weary of eating out. You never know when one of the lil'uns is going to reach their breaking point. So, the kiddos and I got to work. That's right, they helped. Sort of. They fought over the step stool. Bear helped spread butter and brown sugar on the butternut squash (Buddy tried to help, too. Mostly, he just hung on our legs and got in the way.) Then she helped stir the seasoning mixture for the pork chops. We distracted buddy in the living room, then I let her help slide the dishes into the oven.
I made some veggie penne pasta by Rizoni, seasoned with Pampered Chef's rosemary blend seasoning, garlic salt and butter for the side.
Meat entree:
Baked pork chops, seasoned with fresh cilantro, fresh-squeezed lemon juice, pepper, garlic and olive oil
Dessert:
Sweet baked butternut squash (it was really small... I didn't want to buy a big one and not like it)
I hate my kitchen. It's tiny. There is almost no counter space: 2 feet above the dishwasher, next to the sink, one foot on either side of the stove.
Well, it has been a handy excuse not to cook this past 15 months in the apartment. We eat out a lot. But occasionally, I actually WANT to cook, and I actually want to enjoy the process. When DH is out of town, I pretty much give up and we eat out a lot.
Tonight, in hopes that DH might be home in time for supper, I decided to make a good meal. Plus, I do get weary of eating out. You never know when one of the lil'uns is going to reach their breaking point. So, the kiddos and I got to work. That's right, they helped. Sort of. They fought over the step stool. Bear helped spread butter and brown sugar on the butternut squash (Buddy tried to help, too. Mostly, he just hung on our legs and got in the way.) Then she helped stir the seasoning mixture for the pork chops. We distracted buddy in the living room, then I let her help slide the dishes into the oven.
I made some veggie penne pasta by Rizoni, seasoned with Pampered Chef's rosemary blend seasoning, garlic salt and butter for the side.
Meat entree:
Baked pork chops, seasoned with fresh cilantro, fresh-squeezed lemon juice, pepper, garlic and olive oil
Dessert:
Sweet baked butternut squash (it was really small... I didn't want to buy a big one and not like it)
Can't pretend right now
The emotional roller coaster of having taken my 2 year old to the ER after a fall on Tuesday is rough. I expected it to be hard on Tuesday night when I got home. My sister in law's presence was truly a sanity saver. She drove down and met us at the hospital, arriving after B had just begun to recover from his fall, and then brought us home. The past 2 days, I have experienced sheer relief and thankfulness. Today, the reality of what happened and what could have happened has hit. I am not blaming myself, though at times I do feel like an idiot for stepping so away and turning around, assuming little daredevil was behind me. I cannot count the number of times his Daddy or I has prevented what he did from happening. I should have known better.
I keep experiencing affirmations that I did the right thing by calling 911, that I was not imagining my son's strange state, that something was really, terribly wrong, even if just for a couple of hours. That Someone, our Heavenly Father, sent some guardian angels to cushion his fall and protect him from brain or spinal injury.
The accident occurred at nap time. Only he went from running around, wearing himself out one minute, to barely staying awake the next. That is not normal. Case in point: I tucked him in for nap around 2:15 today. His bedroom is on the other side of the wall from my bathroom, and I could hear him playing. He often resists nap. An hour and a half later, I let Sissy open the door and let him out of his room. He never slept.
In contrast, while we were in the ambulance on Tuesday, he fell into a nearly undisturbable sleep. If he opened his eyes at all (he did a couple of times), he did not turn his head to look at me, he did not talk, he barely responded to my voice. It was not normal. We kept tickling him, tugging at him, telling him to "wake up." He didn't wake up until just before we arrived at the hospital, when the EMT tried to get an IV in him just in case. The EMT's said they saw his limbs move with the startle response, but that was not the same as the neck hugs and slobbery kisses I knew. He didn't reopen his eyes until just before we arrived at the hospital, and that was because the EMT tried to get an IV in him just in case. He said, "ouch. no" and whimpered a bit, but still did not look at me. He let them put a precautionary oxygen tube in his nostrils. My boy who won't keep hats on his head most of the time was laying as still as a sardine in a can. His neck brace didn't seem to phase him. As they opened the door to carry him into the hospital, he did squeeze my hand when I squeezed his. A little. That was the beginning of getting my son back. I kept reminding myself that after the 20 second loss of consciousness as I cradled him on the mulch, he had reached up for me, he had asked for mama before leaving me again. Finally, Hope crept in.
I can't dwell on the what ifs. But at the moment, I can't even imagine taking him to a playground right now. Not without Daddy, and even then, I don't know if I'll be able to handle it. I was supposed to go to MOPS today. The CT scan showed that the sinus crud he has fought was indeed some kind of an infection, so we got him on antibiotics yesterday afternoon. And after dropping Sissy off at school, I confess... I couldn't let my boy out of my sight, even for 2 hours.
Maybe I'll feel better when my partner gets home from being 10 hours away tonight. I hope so. I know I can't shelter him from everything, and eventually he will learn not to jump off of 4 foot platforms trying to reach the monkey bars like his big sister. But I'd rather keep him safe until he can jump safely.
The emotional roller coaster of having taken my 2 year old to the ER after a fall on Tuesday is rough. I expected it to be hard on Tuesday night when I got home. My sister in law's presence was truly a sanity saver. She drove down and met us at the hospital, arriving after B had just begun to recover from his fall, and then brought us home. The past 2 days, I have experienced sheer relief and thankfulness. Today, the reality of what happened and what could have happened has hit. I am not blaming myself, though at times I do feel like an idiot for stepping so away and turning around, assuming little daredevil was behind me. I cannot count the number of times his Daddy or I has prevented what he did from happening. I should have known better.
I keep experiencing affirmations that I did the right thing by calling 911, that I was not imagining my son's strange state, that something was really, terribly wrong, even if just for a couple of hours. That Someone, our Heavenly Father, sent some guardian angels to cushion his fall and protect him from brain or spinal injury.
The accident occurred at nap time. Only he went from running around, wearing himself out one minute, to barely staying awake the next. That is not normal. Case in point: I tucked him in for nap around 2:15 today. His bedroom is on the other side of the wall from my bathroom, and I could hear him playing. He often resists nap. An hour and a half later, I let Sissy open the door and let him out of his room. He never slept.
In contrast, while we were in the ambulance on Tuesday, he fell into a nearly undisturbable sleep. If he opened his eyes at all (he did a couple of times), he did not turn his head to look at me, he did not talk, he barely responded to my voice. It was not normal. We kept tickling him, tugging at him, telling him to "wake up." He didn't wake up until just before we arrived at the hospital, when the EMT tried to get an IV in him just in case. The EMT's said they saw his limbs move with the startle response, but that was not the same as the neck hugs and slobbery kisses I knew. He didn't reopen his eyes until just before we arrived at the hospital, and that was because the EMT tried to get an IV in him just in case. He said, "ouch. no" and whimpered a bit, but still did not look at me. He let them put a precautionary oxygen tube in his nostrils. My boy who won't keep hats on his head most of the time was laying as still as a sardine in a can. His neck brace didn't seem to phase him. As they opened the door to carry him into the hospital, he did squeeze my hand when I squeezed his. A little. That was the beginning of getting my son back. I kept reminding myself that after the 20 second loss of consciousness as I cradled him on the mulch, he had reached up for me, he had asked for mama before leaving me again. Finally, Hope crept in.
I can't dwell on the what ifs. But at the moment, I can't even imagine taking him to a playground right now. Not without Daddy, and even then, I don't know if I'll be able to handle it. I was supposed to go to MOPS today. The CT scan showed that the sinus crud he has fought was indeed some kind of an infection, so we got him on antibiotics yesterday afternoon. And after dropping Sissy off at school, I confess... I couldn't let my boy out of my sight, even for 2 hours.
Maybe I'll feel better when my partner gets home from being 10 hours away tonight. I hope so. I know I can't shelter him from everything, and eventually he will learn not to jump off of 4 foot platforms trying to reach the monkey bars like his big sister. But I'd rather keep him safe until he can jump safely.
pardon me while i type one handed. my son is snuggled against my tummy, and i'm holding him a bit tighter tonight. i've heard the saying that goes something like, "having a child is like letting your heart walk around outside your body." i thought i knew what that meant the day my daughter was born. then, when she had her first bout of dehydration and daddy took her to the e.r. while i stayed home with baby brother. i thought i knew that saying's meaning then, too.
of course, there are times when they are so happy that my heart wells up with pride and joy for them. but today i experienced the terror of worrying about my baby on a new level.
the kids had been angels when we went the voting poll, and they were pretty good when we went to lunch at a local restaurant on the square. (little man was so filled up on pretzels and goldfish that he was not hungry, but he did not have any fits, so that qualifies as a success in my book.)
just before two o'clock we pulled into the apartment complex, checked the mail, and instead of parking and going inside for naptime, i decided to go to the playground for a few minutes.
i thought b was just behind me when i turned around to look at something that caught my eye. the reality was that he was straight on sissy's tail as she made her way to the monkey bars. at the top of a four foot high platform...
*****
11 pm 11/2: Both kiddos are in bed sound asleep.
As I remember... as I said, I had turned around for a second, thinking B was running near me. THUD. cry. "Oh, S***!!!!! God, no!" My heart raced as I ran toward my baby boy, who was face down under the monkey bars. Scared to pick him up, but dying to at the same time, I rolled him over to lay him flat. He looked at me, but his stare was rather blank. I noticed scrapes on the side of his forehead and above his cheekbone, but the bleeding was minimal. He closed his eyes. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 911. Their staff was superb, staying on the line with me, helping me calm down. The 20 seconds or so his eyes were closed seemed like an eternity, but when he opened them he reached up and hugged my neck tightly. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, but was still worried. 911 lady kept talking to me as we waited for the ambulance, H stayed close, asking if her baby brother was ok but also somehow staying really, really calm and collected while Mommy went back and forth from near hysterics to deep breaths and hopefulness. A little 6 year old boy had come over from his apartment to play and matter of factly told me that he fell off a play gym once. (His mom was on her patio across the parking lot and she came over to see what was going on, too.) We heard the ambulance near, they pulled up on the other side of the park area and H ran over to show them where we were. The 3 EMT's/Firefighters came over, immediately began checking B's vitals and asked what happened. At that point, B was sitting in my lap facing out, eyes open but very quiet. He kept blinking as though he would fall asleep, and he was getting less responsive. When they first arrived, there was a possibility that I could drive him to the county hospital with a pediatric unit 20 minutes away, but we quickly determined he needed to go to the Children's Hospital of Atlanta for care. So one of the EMT's grabbed H's car seat out of our car (which was next to the play ground, thank God, as we had driven there in stead of parking and walking over from our building). B's vitals remained strong, but he kept falling asleep, and it wasn't long before he would not open his eyes when tickled. Of course, it was also his nap time, and the EMT tried to encourage me to be hopeful since I had told him that B was a heavy sleeper. However, I knew this was not my little bouncing baby boy's normal behavior. And it terrified me. He remained basically unresponsive, or extremely limited in his responses, for the next 2 hours or so.
In the ambulance, Big Sis sat in her car seat and observed, mostly. I had tried to call 2 local friends, and succeeded in texting one to share the news, but there just wasn't time to leave big sis anywhere. And with Daddy out of state, I also felt like she needed to be with us. She thought it was cool that we were flying past all the other vehicles on the highway. The EMT's and I kept trying to awaken him, but his sleep seemed to grow deeper... until they stuck him to give him an IV port just in case. Then he whimpered a little and said "ouch." While I hated to see him hurt, I knew that at least he was feeling things.
The rest of the evening is a blur. Hospital staff took H to another room to color and do some crafts, B had already been assigned a tag bracelet, and he was whisked into triage, followed shortly by a CT scan of the head and a x-ray of the c-spine. This is where Hope crept in. My boy began to come back to me. In the CT room, a projector displayed a rotating sea-life scene on the ceiling above the table. "Look, mama. Fish. Water." He pointed to the ceiling. He was laying still. The only time my 2 year old boy lays that still is when he sleeps. When we moved down the hall to X-ray, he saw pumpkin and cat decals on the ceiling and identified them. I explained to him that a big camera was going to take his picture, and asked him to look at the camera and say "cheese." He kept talking about the pumpkin, the cat, and the camera. For this scan, they even had to repeat a lateral film because he had moved his head while I helped hold his arms down flat.
His improvement continued while we waited in his ER room. He laid flat far longer than I had expected him to, but soon, he began rolling around. He was wearing a neck brace as a precaution, and it was not very long until he sat up. Shortly after that, Aunt Sara arrived, having survived rush hour traffic in Atlanta. Oh, how grateful I am for her tonight.
The nurses came in periodically to check his vitals, and he became increasingly more normal. His movement set of the equipment alarms. He pretended the TV remote was a telephone and called the nurses station for help by pressing the button as he talked on his "phone." He sang "the wheels on the bus go round and round." While he likes that song, I can't help but wonder if it because he knew he was in an ambulance (because we told him so) or rolling down the hall on a cot.
Finally, the doctor came in and authorized his release as his test were fine, and not a moment to soon. He showed her how he could stand on his bed and step up onto the railing while he hugged mommy's neck... with all his wires still attached.
As we drove home and the sky darkened, he sang "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" from his cousin's car seat. Big Sis fell asleep pretty quickly, but in the parking garage she told Aunt Sara that she did not like it when her brother got hurt.
(Thank God for babies in the family! We did not grab his car seat when we took Sissy's.) As we waited in the drive through at Chik-fil-A, he exclaimed "chicken!" And of course, when we pulled into our complex, he asked for the playground. I asked him if the playground was fun or scary. "Fun." But at one point I think he also said "Playground hurt."
As the evening progressed, we ate our dinner, watched a movie, and he began to play with the teddy bear he was given at the hospital (while at the hospital he was not really interested in it.) He wanted me to put his neck brace (yeah, I kept it) on the bear, along with the disposable pressure cuff the nurse had put on it. Then he told the bear to "wake up!" just like we had been telling him in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, when he had that glassy eyed look on his face (if his eyes were open at all).
He set his teddy bear on his pillow, then climbed into bed next to it.
Later, as I tucked Big Sis into bed and sang "You are my sunshine" as one of her lullabies, she changed the lyrics to "please don't take my brother away." My strong, brave girl did so well through this ordeal, too.
Sara's here with me tonight, I am so glad for the company. Daddy will be home on Friday as planned, since the test results were ok and our little man is already back to his old self.
****
Thank you to everyone who heard the news through the grapevine and prayed for us today. Four feet is a really long fall for a 2 year old, and Someone must have heard and softened his fall.
*****
23.5 hours later
11/3/10
My boy is in my lap again, chattering away, pretending a mini slinky is a camera and saying, "cheese." A few minutes ago, he and H were racing hobby horses around the apartment, and before that he was twirling in circles, throwing himself on the ground laughing and exclaiming, "hurt! mama! hurt" But then repeating the cycle. This is completely normal play for him.
God is so good!
of course, there are times when they are so happy that my heart wells up with pride and joy for them. but today i experienced the terror of worrying about my baby on a new level.
the kids had been angels when we went the voting poll, and they were pretty good when we went to lunch at a local restaurant on the square. (little man was so filled up on pretzels and goldfish that he was not hungry, but he did not have any fits, so that qualifies as a success in my book.)
just before two o'clock we pulled into the apartment complex, checked the mail, and instead of parking and going inside for naptime, i decided to go to the playground for a few minutes.
i thought b was just behind me when i turned around to look at something that caught my eye. the reality was that he was straight on sissy's tail as she made her way to the monkey bars. at the top of a four foot high platform...
*****
11 pm 11/2: Both kiddos are in bed sound asleep.
As I remember... as I said, I had turned around for a second, thinking B was running near me. THUD. cry. "Oh, S***!!!!! God, no!" My heart raced as I ran toward my baby boy, who was face down under the monkey bars. Scared to pick him up, but dying to at the same time, I rolled him over to lay him flat. He looked at me, but his stare was rather blank. I noticed scrapes on the side of his forehead and above his cheekbone, but the bleeding was minimal. He closed his eyes. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 911. Their staff was superb, staying on the line with me, helping me calm down. The 20 seconds or so his eyes were closed seemed like an eternity, but when he opened them he reached up and hugged my neck tightly. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, but was still worried. 911 lady kept talking to me as we waited for the ambulance, H stayed close, asking if her baby brother was ok but also somehow staying really, really calm and collected while Mommy went back and forth from near hysterics to deep breaths and hopefulness. A little 6 year old boy had come over from his apartment to play and matter of factly told me that he fell off a play gym once. (His mom was on her patio across the parking lot and she came over to see what was going on, too.) We heard the ambulance near, they pulled up on the other side of the park area and H ran over to show them where we were. The 3 EMT's/Firefighters came over, immediately began checking B's vitals and asked what happened. At that point, B was sitting in my lap facing out, eyes open but very quiet. He kept blinking as though he would fall asleep, and he was getting less responsive. When they first arrived, there was a possibility that I could drive him to the county hospital with a pediatric unit 20 minutes away, but we quickly determined he needed to go to the Children's Hospital of Atlanta for care. So one of the EMT's grabbed H's car seat out of our car (which was next to the play ground, thank God, as we had driven there in stead of parking and walking over from our building). B's vitals remained strong, but he kept falling asleep, and it wasn't long before he would not open his eyes when tickled. Of course, it was also his nap time, and the EMT tried to encourage me to be hopeful since I had told him that B was a heavy sleeper. However, I knew this was not my little bouncing baby boy's normal behavior. And it terrified me. He remained basically unresponsive, or extremely limited in his responses, for the next 2 hours or so.
In the ambulance, Big Sis sat in her car seat and observed, mostly. I had tried to call 2 local friends, and succeeded in texting one to share the news, but there just wasn't time to leave big sis anywhere. And with Daddy out of state, I also felt like she needed to be with us. She thought it was cool that we were flying past all the other vehicles on the highway. The EMT's and I kept trying to awaken him, but his sleep seemed to grow deeper... until they stuck him to give him an IV port just in case. Then he whimpered a little and said "ouch." While I hated to see him hurt, I knew that at least he was feeling things.
The rest of the evening is a blur. Hospital staff took H to another room to color and do some crafts, B had already been assigned a tag bracelet, and he was whisked into triage, followed shortly by a CT scan of the head and a x-ray of the c-spine. This is where Hope crept in. My boy began to come back to me. In the CT room, a projector displayed a rotating sea-life scene on the ceiling above the table. "Look, mama. Fish. Water." He pointed to the ceiling. He was laying still. The only time my 2 year old boy lays that still is when he sleeps. When we moved down the hall to X-ray, he saw pumpkin and cat decals on the ceiling and identified them. I explained to him that a big camera was going to take his picture, and asked him to look at the camera and say "cheese." He kept talking about the pumpkin, the cat, and the camera. For this scan, they even had to repeat a lateral film because he had moved his head while I helped hold his arms down flat.
His improvement continued while we waited in his ER room. He laid flat far longer than I had expected him to, but soon, he began rolling around. He was wearing a neck brace as a precaution, and it was not very long until he sat up. Shortly after that, Aunt Sara arrived, having survived rush hour traffic in Atlanta. Oh, how grateful I am for her tonight.
The nurses came in periodically to check his vitals, and he became increasingly more normal. His movement set of the equipment alarms. He pretended the TV remote was a telephone and called the nurses station for help by pressing the button as he talked on his "phone." He sang "the wheels on the bus go round and round." While he likes that song, I can't help but wonder if it because he knew he was in an ambulance (because we told him so) or rolling down the hall on a cot.
Sitting up-with his neck brace on- in his ER room
As we drove home and the sky darkened, he sang "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" from his cousin's car seat. Big Sis fell asleep pretty quickly, but in the parking garage she told Aunt Sara that she did not like it when her brother got hurt.
(Thank God for babies in the family! We did not grab his car seat when we took Sissy's.) As we waited in the drive through at Chik-fil-A, he exclaimed "chicken!" And of course, when we pulled into our complex, he asked for the playground. I asked him if the playground was fun or scary. "Fun." But at one point I think he also said "Playground hurt."
As the evening progressed, we ate our dinner, watched a movie, and he began to play with the teddy bear he was given at the hospital (while at the hospital he was not really interested in it.) He wanted me to put his neck brace (yeah, I kept it) on the bear, along with the disposable pressure cuff the nurse had put on it. Then he told the bear to "wake up!" just like we had been telling him in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, when he had that glassy eyed look on his face (if his eyes were open at all).
He set his teddy bear on his pillow, then climbed into bed next to it.
Later, as I tucked Big Sis into bed and sang "You are my sunshine" as one of her lullabies, she changed the lyrics to "please don't take my brother away." My strong, brave girl did so well through this ordeal, too.
Sara's here with me tonight, I am so glad for the company. Daddy will be home on Friday as planned, since the test results were ok and our little man is already back to his old self.
****
Thank you to everyone who heard the news through the grapevine and prayed for us today. Four feet is a really long fall for a 2 year old, and Someone must have heard and softened his fall.
*****
23.5 hours later
11/3/10
My boy is in my lap again, chattering away, pretending a mini slinky is a camera and saying, "cheese." A few minutes ago, he and H were racing hobby horses around the apartment, and before that he was twirling in circles, throwing himself on the ground laughing and exclaiming, "hurt! mama! hurt" But then repeating the cycle. This is completely normal play for him.
God is so good!
Acting normal Tuesday night
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Tackle it Tuesday: Grouch Edition
I'm pretty sure the purpose of the whole "Tackle It Tuesday" meme is to encourage you in the day-to-day stuff of life and the big accomplishments. I'm tired and crabby right now, so consider this your warning.
On Sunday night, during a heavenly trip to the grocery store without kids, I rescued two 99 cent 3 inch pots with mums in them. Bear had been begging for more flowers, and she was so excited when I brought them home. It did not matter to her that the yellow and pink (er, brown) flowers were shriveling up. They were beautiful to her. It didn't matter to me either. You see, in a past season of life I had flower beds. Not pots on the third floor balcony of an apartment building. There is a difference, and the amount of enjoyment cultivated, especially with a toddler undertow and an almost five year old who are both eager to "help," yeah... you get the picture.
I didn't take before pictures. I just didn't, but I am probably the only person who would have spent 99 cents on dead-looking flowers. (In my defense, the plants were still very green). However, they had new buds coming, and in my aforementioned former season of life, I learned that pinching off the dead buds will encourage new growth if the plants still have life in them. And I am cheap... I am not spending $10 on flowers that are sure to die in this Hades-like heat in September. (It's in the 90's here just south of Hotlanta.)
Anyhow, this day of tackles started out well.... freshly brewed Starbucks coffee at home, Pumpkin spice creamer and sugar to taste, and I even threw a chicken in the crock pot after smothering it in delectable seasonings. See? I'm ready for Fall.
Fast forward a couple of hours. Some Mommy decided it would be fun to take her kiddos out of the balcony to do a little "gardening" in the sun before it's too hot. News flash: at 11:30 a.m. it is too hot to enjoy being outside. So, I lifted one pot of dead summer flowers out of their decorative urn. Discovered the urn was full of stagnating water. I tried to dump water into one of the other pots, dumped too fast, and created a mini mud cascade down to the neighbors railing below. Crap. How neighborly of me. So I threw on some jeans to go apologize, writing a note of apology for the mess I shared first, figuring they were not home. I think I wrote the wrong apartment # on the note, but they know who I and my elephants are. I mean, if someone had dumped muddy water on my balcony, I would not have been happy. Not that the idiots who smoke their cigars and cigarrettes two floors down care that they are poisoning my air.
We we returned upstairs, and I vowed not to be defeated. Buddy fell of sissy's bike and got back on at least 5 times. At least he was mostly occupied. Bear did a good job fetching water from the well, I mean bathroom faucet. (I hope she turned it off all the way). I asked her to pinch off the old buds, she did about 5 of the 40 and decided to go back inside. Helping a crabby mommy is no fun. By this time I was not enjoying being around myself, either.
Ok, so I cut off old dead flower stems from the remains of our summer flowers, and pulled others out of the pots I planned to re-use immediately. I transplanted the mums and pinched off the dead blooms that Bear left and the plants don't look half bad. But then I still had to sweep up the mess, because when you live on the third floor it's not good manners to sweep your dirt onto your neighbors' railings/balcony below.... Did I mention it is hot here?
So, pardon my grumpiness, but what would have been a fun project to share with the kids in my old yard was a frustrating chore here. My flowers do look like they will be happier in their new home than they were in the grocery store's reject cart, in a week or maybe even less, I should have some fresh blooms to enjoy. The kiddos will be able to pick them to their hearts' content because mums rebloom. (As long as little Buddy does not yank the whole plants out of the pots.) Next year I'm just going to spend $50 on big beautiful flowers that don't require work other than watering them. (Um, not really. It's against my frugal genes.) Next year I plan to be in a new season of life, including living in a house with a yard where gardening is much more fun, even in the heat. (I think the heat bounces off the building and makes it feelworse than it really is.)
I'm pretty sure the purpose of the whole "Tackle It Tuesday" meme is to encourage you in the day-to-day stuff of life and the big accomplishments. I'm tired and crabby right now, so consider this your warning.
On Sunday night, during a heavenly trip to the grocery store without kids, I rescued two 99 cent 3 inch pots with mums in them. Bear had been begging for more flowers, and she was so excited when I brought them home. It did not matter to her that the yellow and pink (er, brown) flowers were shriveling up. They were beautiful to her. It didn't matter to me either. You see, in a past season of life I had flower beds. Not pots on the third floor balcony of an apartment building. There is a difference, and the amount of enjoyment cultivated, especially with a toddler undertow and an almost five year old who are both eager to "help," yeah... you get the picture.
I didn't take before pictures. I just didn't, but I am probably the only person who would have spent 99 cents on dead-looking flowers. (In my defense, the plants were still very green). However, they had new buds coming, and in my aforementioned former season of life, I learned that pinching off the dead buds will encourage new growth if the plants still have life in them. And I am cheap... I am not spending $10 on flowers that are sure to die in this Hades-like heat in September. (It's in the 90's here just south of Hotlanta.)
Anyhow, this day of tackles started out well.... freshly brewed Starbucks coffee at home, Pumpkin spice creamer and sugar to taste, and I even threw a chicken in the crock pot after smothering it in delectable seasonings. See? I'm ready for Fall.
Fast forward a couple of hours. Some Mommy decided it would be fun to take her kiddos out of the balcony to do a little "gardening" in the sun before it's too hot. News flash: at 11:30 a.m. it is too hot to enjoy being outside. So, I lifted one pot of dead summer flowers out of their decorative urn. Discovered the urn was full of stagnating water. I tried to dump water into one of the other pots, dumped too fast, and created a mini mud cascade down to the neighbors railing below. Crap. How neighborly of me. So I threw on some jeans to go apologize, writing a note of apology for the mess I shared first, figuring they were not home. I think I wrote the wrong apartment # on the note, but they know who I and my elephants are. I mean, if someone had dumped muddy water on my balcony, I would not have been happy. Not that the idiots who smoke their cigars and cigarrettes two floors down care that they are poisoning my air.
We we returned upstairs, and I vowed not to be defeated. Buddy fell of sissy's bike and got back on at least 5 times. At least he was mostly occupied. Bear did a good job fetching water from the well, I mean bathroom faucet. (I hope she turned it off all the way). I asked her to pinch off the old buds, she did about 5 of the 40 and decided to go back inside. Helping a crabby mommy is no fun. By this time I was not enjoying being around myself, either.
Ok, so I cut off old dead flower stems from the remains of our summer flowers, and pulled others out of the pots I planned to re-use immediately. I transplanted the mums and pinched off the dead blooms that Bear left and the plants don't look half bad. But then I still had to sweep up the mess, because when you live on the third floor it's not good manners to sweep your dirt onto your neighbors' railings/balcony below.... Did I mention it is hot here?
Monday, September 13, 2010
Once upon a time
people stayed where their families lived and worked for generations
children went off to school to learn a new trade, but returned "home" with their new skill
or they stayed home and found a local job and worked hard to advance in the company
or maybe they went off to school, got a job elsewhere, and settled and lived happily ever
people who grew up in one of those situations
don't always seem to understand
the process variations for the rest of us
the how's or the why's or the where's
the alternate route may appear nomadic
but there is a purpose
our path may curve and fork
but we journey together
****
not every puzzle comes in a box with a picture of what it's supposed to look like in the end
people stayed where their families lived and worked for generations
children went off to school to learn a new trade, but returned "home" with their new skill
or they stayed home and found a local job and worked hard to advance in the company
or maybe they went off to school, got a job elsewhere, and settled and lived happily ever
people who grew up in one of those situations
don't always seem to understand
the process variations for the rest of us
the how's or the why's or the where's
the alternate route may appear nomadic
but there is a purpose
our path may curve and fork
but we journey together
****
not every puzzle comes in a box with a picture of what it's supposed to look like in the end
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Freedom
It feels good to make a decision for myself and my kids, and know without a doubt I made it for the right reasons. And to acknowledge that I did make that choice as much for myself as my child. And that's okay. Not just okay, it's really a good thing.
My baby girl is starting school tomorrow.
I got a degree in education thinking I might homeschool someday.
I have a lot of friends who homeschool.
I have relatives who homeschool.
Sometimes it seems like it's the "in" thing to do in some circles.
(Though that is not why most parents choose it. Just like any other decision, multiple factors are considered... learning styles, school quality, other opportunities, faith-based reasons, the list goes on and on and on....)
But God did not call me to homeschool, not completely. Not this year.
He also did not call me to compare myself to others or try to do what they do because it sure looks or sounds like a nice idea. (Though the idea of schedule flexibility going out the window next year is enough to make me re-evaluate our path and start searching for a curriculum for Kindergarten.)
And when I finally realized that, I found freedom. (Thanks, Cheri, for putting it that way in our chat.)
Of course, I will still be my child's teacher. I'm her Mom. That's what Moms do. We teach and train our kids, or at least pour our heart and soul into the effort.
But my husband and I have chosen to share some of that responsibility, to give me a little break.
To give little guy some mommy and me time like sis had when she was little.
Let the Pre-K school year begin! I am so proud of my little girl and can't wait to see what she learns this year. With and without my help.
It feels good to make a decision for myself and my kids, and know without a doubt I made it for the right reasons. And to acknowledge that I did make that choice as much for myself as my child. And that's okay. Not just okay, it's really a good thing.
My baby girl is starting school tomorrow.
I got a degree in education thinking I might homeschool someday.
I have a lot of friends who homeschool.
I have relatives who homeschool.
Sometimes it seems like it's the "in" thing to do in some circles.
(Though that is not why most parents choose it. Just like any other decision, multiple factors are considered... learning styles, school quality, other opportunities, faith-based reasons, the list goes on and on and on....)
But God did not call me to homeschool, not completely. Not this year.
He also did not call me to compare myself to others or try to do what they do because it sure looks or sounds like a nice idea. (Though the idea of schedule flexibility going out the window next year is enough to make me re-evaluate our path and start searching for a curriculum for Kindergarten.)
And when I finally realized that, I found freedom. (Thanks, Cheri, for putting it that way in our chat.)
Of course, I will still be my child's teacher. I'm her Mom. That's what Moms do. We teach and train our kids, or at least pour our heart and soul into the effort.
But my husband and I have chosen to share some of that responsibility, to give me a little break.
To give little guy some mommy and me time like sis had when she was little.
Let the Pre-K school year begin! I am so proud of my little girl and can't wait to see what she learns this year. With and without my help.
Monday, August 23, 2010
"When I'm not in control"
I was reading a friend's note on her FB page, and as she relayed what's been going on in her life and her family lately, she mentioned a list of verses with this heading. And then it hit me, maybe part of why my blog has been silent is precisely this. I find that ironic. I am not a control-freak, under most circumstances. However, there is one pretty big question in my mind, followed by several related questions, that I've been waiting to have answered. It's monopolized my thoughts for several months now, making it really hard for me to feel settled. Not only that, I am not really looking for advice on how to deal with it, because, quite frankly I do not want to be patronized, and that's how advice comes off at times. (I'm sure I've been guilty of offering patronizing advice to others, unintentionally, of course.) Just a few moments ago, as my cotton-ball stuffed mind (I have a cold) processed my friend's update... I really, really, really do not like being in control of this particular aspect in my life. My blog is "my space" that I like to feel like I can control (oh, the irony of feeling in control of a social networking site). What aspect? Well, that's not really something I can post right now. If you know me well, chances are you can figure it out, expecially those of you who received the specific prayer request in the mail. (Did I just spell the "e" word like that? I blame the cold.) Let's just call it "direction." Is that vague enough for you?
The point is, I am not in control. God is. In spite of my best attempts at protecting my children, there is always the risk of the bee sting, or the toddler running toward another swinging child at the park just as I turned around to listen to the other sibling. (Thank God for other parents nearby.) Maybe I've been a bit more preoccupied with my lack of control than I thought. I guess that makes me an "uncontrol freak."
I'm up far too early (or late, depending on your time zone/perspective). While I would like to blame my current health, a cold which was shared by my wonderfully loving children, I'm sure it has more to do with the fact that I need to be still and know who is God. To trust that we've been praying for something(s), and the answer(s) will come in God's time. To not be so consumed by the unknown that I fail to truly live in the moment He has given.
I was reading a friend's note on her FB page, and as she relayed what's been going on in her life and her family lately, she mentioned a list of verses with this heading. And then it hit me, maybe part of why my blog has been silent is precisely this. I find that ironic. I am not a control-freak, under most circumstances. However, there is one pretty big question in my mind, followed by several related questions, that I've been waiting to have answered. It's monopolized my thoughts for several months now, making it really hard for me to feel settled. Not only that, I am not really looking for advice on how to deal with it, because, quite frankly I do not want to be patronized, and that's how advice comes off at times. (I'm sure I've been guilty of offering patronizing advice to others, unintentionally, of course.) Just a few moments ago, as my cotton-ball stuffed mind (I have a cold) processed my friend's update... I really, really, really do not like being in control of this particular aspect in my life. My blog is "my space" that I like to feel like I can control (oh, the irony of feeling in control of a social networking site). What aspect? Well, that's not really something I can post right now. If you know me well, chances are you can figure it out, expecially those of you who received the specific prayer request in the mail. (Did I just spell the "e" word like that? I blame the cold.) Let's just call it "direction." Is that vague enough for you?
The point is, I am not in control. God is. In spite of my best attempts at protecting my children, there is always the risk of the bee sting, or the toddler running toward another swinging child at the park just as I turned around to listen to the other sibling. (Thank God for other parents nearby.) Maybe I've been a bit more preoccupied with my lack of control than I thought. I guess that makes me an "uncontrol freak."
I'm up far too early (or late, depending on your time zone/perspective). While I would like to blame my current health, a cold which was shared by my wonderfully loving children, I'm sure it has more to do with the fact that I need to be still and know who is God. To trust that we've been praying for something(s), and the answer(s) will come in God's time. To not be so consumed by the unknown that I fail to truly live in the moment He has given.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
"accidental" vacation
So, a couple of months ago my sister mentioned that her family would be attending a convention about 2 hours from where our parents live, then spending a few days with Mom and Dad at their new home, after a visit to Walt Disney World. In my typical indecisive form, I thought about the idea. Hubby's travel schedule has been kind of crazy lately, and I don't typically like to drive more than 4 hours alone with the kids. They are good travelers, most of the time, but I get sleepy, and, well, you know. (forgive my comma overusage and all other grammatical errors. I have salt water on the brain.) Finally, I decided that the kids and I needed time with Grandma and Grandpa. But I didn't want to do Disney without my husband there. Well, the more I thought about THAT, the more I decided I could not have Bear hearing how wonderful and magical it was from her cousin and realizing that she really could have gone too. So when Mom and Dad/Grandma and Grandpa said they would like to go as a big group, our decision was made. Disney was magical. Tiring, rainy, but still magical. Buddy was lost in wonder, Bear and J took turns being excited and crabby.
Then we tried to go to the beach with them. Cousin J had never been to the beach before. Ever. We got rained out of those plans, but the girls stood in a picnic shelter with Grandma and Grandpa and saw 2 manatees swimming in the bay.
We tried to go again the next morning. I made a stupid mistake that cost me a car door, and needless to say, we did not make it to the Beach. (The weather was great for me niece and she got to hang out with Grandpa without us.)
We had planned to be in FL for 6 days. Almost 1 week past our scheduled departure, we're still here.
*****
I guess I never published this. We arrived home safely and are back to life as usual. :)
So, a couple of months ago my sister mentioned that her family would be attending a convention about 2 hours from where our parents live, then spending a few days with Mom and Dad at their new home, after a visit to Walt Disney World. In my typical indecisive form, I thought about the idea. Hubby's travel schedule has been kind of crazy lately, and I don't typically like to drive more than 4 hours alone with the kids. They are good travelers, most of the time, but I get sleepy, and, well, you know. (forgive my comma overusage and all other grammatical errors. I have salt water on the brain.) Finally, I decided that the kids and I needed time with Grandma and Grandpa. But I didn't want to do Disney without my husband there. Well, the more I thought about THAT, the more I decided I could not have Bear hearing how wonderful and magical it was from her cousin and realizing that she really could have gone too. So when Mom and Dad/Grandma and Grandpa said they would like to go as a big group, our decision was made. Disney was magical. Tiring, rainy, but still magical. Buddy was lost in wonder, Bear and J took turns being excited and crabby.
Then we tried to go to the beach with them. Cousin J had never been to the beach before. Ever. We got rained out of those plans, but the girls stood in a picnic shelter with Grandma and Grandpa and saw 2 manatees swimming in the bay.
We tried to go again the next morning. I made a stupid mistake that cost me a car door, and needless to say, we did not make it to the Beach. (The weather was great for me niece and she got to hang out with Grandpa without us.)
We had planned to be in FL for 6 days. Almost 1 week past our scheduled departure, we're still here.
*****
I guess I never published this. We arrived home safely and are back to life as usual. :)
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Aren't they pretty?
Now I just need to use them!!!! (I do have 2 big yarn projects going, plus a couple of small things.) I bought the ribbon intending to use them in scrapbooking or for clippies....
On second thought, I just realized that 4 of the skeins are leftovers from previously completed blankets made within the past 2 years. Maybe I'm not just a collector after all!
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
dreaming of authenticity
So, just before I was awakened by my boy at 5:30 this morning, I had an odd dream. It was odd because of the characters in the dream. My family (me, my husband, and kids, a married couple, and to be honest I'm not sure that the wife is who the guy is really married to or not... I didn't know her. I barely knew the guy in elementary school, so to have him in a dream was rather surprising. I know his name and that's about it, nothing of his character. Yet all of a sudden he became a substitute mascot. And the friend from high school... she was a friend who I always appreciated as someone who was true to herself. Somewhere in the middle. Not part of the main clique, but not an outcast by any means. And somehow, they all ended up at my house, along with my family. The first couple essentially represented the legalistic years, the ones during which I was taught that obedience is "the very best way to show that you believe." (Feel free to sing with me if you know the song!) One might add "no questions asked" to that definition. The other friend represented freedom in her searching, one seeking honesty above perfection. And when they left, the couple was set in their ways, telling us what we should be doing, while the friend was still searching and not convinced that those other people had what she wanted, even if they were "right." There were a few other details (and people) in there... but that's the gist of it. And after I got Buddy settled back down with his sippy cup, snuggled in his big boy bed because apparently the crib won't do, I was still pondering the implications of this dream that was cut short. Not the "why were those people in my dream," but the theme of the experience, more or less. (More to come, maybe.... but it's time to be Mommy.)
So, just before I was awakened by my boy at 5:30 this morning, I had an odd dream. It was odd because of the characters in the dream. My family (me, my husband, and kids, a married couple, and to be honest I'm not sure that the wife is who the guy is really married to or not... I didn't know her. I barely knew the guy in elementary school, so to have him in a dream was rather surprising. I know his name and that's about it, nothing of his character. Yet all of a sudden he became a substitute mascot. And the friend from high school... she was a friend who I always appreciated as someone who was true to herself. Somewhere in the middle. Not part of the main clique, but not an outcast by any means. And somehow, they all ended up at my house, along with my family. The first couple essentially represented the legalistic years, the ones during which I was taught that obedience is "the very best way to show that you believe." (Feel free to sing with me if you know the song!) One might add "no questions asked" to that definition. The other friend represented freedom in her searching, one seeking honesty above perfection. And when they left, the couple was set in their ways, telling us what we should be doing, while the friend was still searching and not convinced that those other people had what she wanted, even if they were "right." There were a few other details (and people) in there... but that's the gist of it. And after I got Buddy settled back down with his sippy cup, snuggled in his big boy bed because apparently the crib won't do, I was still pondering the implications of this dream that was cut short. Not the "why were those people in my dream," but the theme of the experience, more or less. (More to come, maybe.... but it's time to be Mommy.)
Monday, May 24, 2010
A lesson in comfort
Yet you are he who took me from the womb;
you made me trust you at my mother's breasts.
(Psalm 22:9, ESV)
As one whom his mother comforts,
so I will comfort you;
so I will comfort you;
(Isaiah 66:13a, ESV)
Isn't it amazing that God compares himself to mothers? We've been struggling with sleep patterns lately. The past couple of days, my 21-month old has been fighting off nap time and bedtime with a vengeance. I mean screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs type of vengeance. If Daddy or I picked him up, he would stop his screaming. We also suspect the 2-year molars are part of the problem, and have been giving him the meds. But those are apparently not enough.
There are times for self-soothing. But it's interesting that the Psalmist didn't say, "you are he who took me from the womb, you made me cry it out while my mother listened from a nearby tent to teach me to survive."
Likewise, there's the verse in Isaiah. It doesn't say when the mother comforted, or that she stopped comforting at a specific age, but clearly God expects mothers to comfort their child. And He promised that comfort to His children. (In spite of the number of times they had protested, turned away, thrown tantrums, or just the fact that they really needed to grow up.)
Now, I do believe there are times when a baby or toddler needs to self soothe. But today, after days of fighting this battle and then today, breaking down into tears (in my room, where the little one couldn't see or hear me as he wailed through the walls), the theme of these verses came to mind. And when little brat, I mean sweet but needy Buddy, who had thrown his sippy to the floor, been given his pain reliever, and been left to go to sleep for a greatly needed nap awoke after maybe 30 minutes of sleeping, decided he NEEDED Mommy, I decided that for some reason, he NEEDED me, too, and this was not just a battle of the wills. And I held him. And rocked him back to sleep.
And held him for another 40 minutes until he woke up peacefully and looked at me, a sweet, smiling copy of photographs of his Daddy at the same age. It was good for both of us. In fact, he's grown into such a big boy that I can't remember the last time my little wrestler actually slept in my arms for even 5 minutes. Apparently I needed to be reminded that he is still a baby, and sometimes what a baby needs most is Mama.
And held him for another 40 minutes until he woke up peacefully and looked at me, a sweet, smiling copy of photographs of his Daddy at the same age. It was good for both of us. In fact, he's grown into such a big boy that I can't remember the last time my little wrestler actually slept in my arms for even 5 minutes. Apparently I needed to be reminded that he is still a baby, and sometimes what a baby needs most is Mama.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Friday Felicities
- Freshly cut flowers and greenery from the spirea shrubs
- A full week where my beloved came home at the end of each work day
- Homemade "starbucks:" coffee with a bit of dark chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and cinnamon in addition to the usual milk and sugar
- Listening to the birds on the balcony (and the sound of them rustling in the chimney, which never gets used here in the warm South- At least it's good for something)
- Seeing the treetops from the balcony
- Discovering what new wildflower will bloom this week in my little balcony mystery pot
- Two healthy, fun-loving kids
- Panda Express for supper last night, on a day where I really needed to eat somewhere other than at home
- The cheerful red wall in my living room
- Dental coverage on our insurance
- My husband taking the day off so I don't have to drag little man to the dentist's office along with big sis, who is going for the first time and a little bit nervous
- An uninterrupted shower with plenty of time for shaving my legs
- Silence beyond the clicking of the keyboard
- Romans 8:1
Thursday, May 20, 2010
editing history
So many professing Christians get up in arms over the re-writing of American history, yet we ignore obvious revisions of Biblical history. Or omissions. (Or maybe we only go to church on Sunday and leave the Bible on the night stand the rest of the week. Yeah, I'm guilty of that.)
Why is it that our Biblical heroes are often portrayed only as godly, god-fearing, etc? Their deep flaws are often skipped over in order to coerce us into following some kind of false gospel where our salvation seems to be based on our works almost as much as it is on faith in Christ.
Every once in a while, we MIGHT catch a glimpse of their weaknesses in a sermon or two. David and Bathsheba is often retold. Maybe I just wasn't listening the first time I was told how David ran from Saul into "refuge" under an enemy king, and in the process of saving his own skin, he became a traitor to his people, killing women and children to make the bad dude respect him. (see I Samuel 27:1-28:2) Yeah, I missed that. Until last Sunday. It turns out that David's not-so-little affair was not his first wicked act. Who knew? Could it be that the hard truths of that passage were skipped over because they did not serve a teacher's purpose? Ouch! Or maybe my mind just blocked them out.
The good news is not that David was a man after God's own heart so he could get away with doing whatever he wanted. Somewhere along the road, he repented and sought God. And God used Him in a mighty way. God was faithful, period. And He loved David. Not because of what his child did or did not do, but because he was His child.
So, if God loved David so much that he used Him anyway, shouldn't we, out of gratefulness for his mercy in our own lives, extend forgiveness to those who "don't deserve it?"
Just mulling things over, in hope that God will help me listen to His heart instead of my own.
So many professing Christians get up in arms over the re-writing of American history, yet we ignore obvious revisions of Biblical history. Or omissions. (Or maybe we only go to church on Sunday and leave the Bible on the night stand the rest of the week. Yeah, I'm guilty of that.)
Why is it that our Biblical heroes are often portrayed only as godly, god-fearing, etc? Their deep flaws are often skipped over in order to coerce us into following some kind of false gospel where our salvation seems to be based on our works almost as much as it is on faith in Christ.
Every once in a while, we MIGHT catch a glimpse of their weaknesses in a sermon or two. David and Bathsheba is often retold. Maybe I just wasn't listening the first time I was told how David ran from Saul into "refuge" under an enemy king, and in the process of saving his own skin, he became a traitor to his people, killing women and children to make the bad dude respect him. (see I Samuel 27:1-28:2) Yeah, I missed that. Until last Sunday. It turns out that David's not-so-little affair was not his first wicked act. Who knew? Could it be that the hard truths of that passage were skipped over because they did not serve a teacher's purpose? Ouch! Or maybe my mind just blocked them out.
The good news is not that David was a man after God's own heart so he could get away with doing whatever he wanted. Somewhere along the road, he repented and sought God. And God used Him in a mighty way. God was faithful, period. And He loved David. Not because of what his child did or did not do, but because he was His child.
So, if God loved David so much that he used Him anyway, shouldn't we, out of gratefulness for his mercy in our own lives, extend forgiveness to those who "don't deserve it?"
Just mulling things over, in hope that God will help me listen to His heart instead of my own.
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