The following was shared with me by my father in law. It is a Thanksgiving prayer from Michael Holt in 1997. And it is fitting for today, for me.
Thank you, God. For the joy, privilege and even the painful responsibility for giving thanks. Some days it is so natural that it seems supernatural; a beautiful sunrise, a beautiful flower, a hug from a grandchild, an answer to a quick prayer or and unexpected provision. Sometimes giving thanks is no problem at all! I feel kissed by God!
But, then there are those other times, those dark times in my life that some days seem to overwhelm me with impenetrable sadness. On those days, Lord, there is no joy in thanksgiving; the privilege in conversing with you, My Heavenly Father, is reduced to a feeble “Help, Lord.”
And yet Lord, your Word says “In everything give thanks, for this is God’s will in Christ Jesus for you.” And it says, “Rejoice” and “Pray constantly.” And I want to, but I can’t. I’m too empty, too needy, too weak, too sad!
And now, it’s “Thanksgiving!” But the encouragement of Your Word, Father, goes deeper than the Pilgrims’ tradition and bears more weight than the government’s mandate to give thanks on some special day in November. Change me Lord into a river of Thanksgiving! And even when it seems the river has run dry, raise up fresh springs so that I cannot help but thank you! Not fake, orchestrated or contrived. Not just an emotional experience, but my mind and my will joining together even when my emotions are not very interested or cooperative.
I choose, like Paul, to glory in weakness. I choose to thank you Lord, not just for blessings and all the wonderful things of life. I choose, Lord, even when Your light seems dim, to lift my weak and trembling heart to say “Thank You Lord!” When I cannot sense your presence, I will thank you. When your Spirit seems far from me, I will thank you. When the sadness chokes me into silence, with my mind I will thank you. And even if I lose my mind, let my last consciousness be of You, O Father, and may whatever be left of me give you praise and thanks forever. When I can’t understand why You allow pain and struggles that seem unbearable, I will thank You Lord! Even if it should seem dark forever, I will thank You, Lord. Because You command me; because You are worthy; because I love you - because I know my life is safe, hidden with Christ in You!
Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Thanksgiving
This year I am having a hard time realizing that tomorrow is Thanksgiving. It snuck up on me. I am very thankful for the blessings God has given me, my wonderful husband, my children, my home, my extended family. The fact that I live in a place where I am free to worship my God, to homeschool my children, to live in freedom.
And yet, I am also having a hard time this Thanksgiving. I am still too focused on the loss of our sweet Hope. Despite the brief time I had knowing that she was there, growing under my heart, in my heart, or perhaps because the time was too short, I find myself in despair often. Daily. Sometimes hourly. She never had the chance to meet the family who loves her so, her father who named her, her mother who prayed for her, her sisters and brothers who mourn her loss. We never had the chance to meet her, to hold her, to let her hear our voices. And yet, she is a part of me, of us.
At first I could do no more than lay on my couch and think about my loss. Those first days I had to force myself to shower, to dress, to eat, to sleep. Never mind cooking, cleaning, laundry, school. I have now been able to force myself to do more, but my heart is not in it yet. I will be laughing with my children, and know I will not have the chance to laugh with Hope. And I cry. I look at our family portrait, taken while I was pregnant, and I see an empty space. And I cry. I sing a song in church about the hope God has given us. And I cry. I lay my head on my pillow at night and my heart is heavy. So heavy. And I cry.
And I know that I have been given so much. That others have lost more. Are losing more. We need, I need, to choose to try and be thankful in all things. I can be thankful, as Faith put it tonight at dinner, that God gave us a blessing for a short while. We do not know why it was so short. We may never know why. Why is not really important. I am choosing to be thankful that Hope was placed with us, those who love her, even for a brief time, so that she would be loved. And loved deeply.
And yet, I am also having a hard time this Thanksgiving. I am still too focused on the loss of our sweet Hope. Despite the brief time I had knowing that she was there, growing under my heart, in my heart, or perhaps because the time was too short, I find myself in despair often. Daily. Sometimes hourly. She never had the chance to meet the family who loves her so, her father who named her, her mother who prayed for her, her sisters and brothers who mourn her loss. We never had the chance to meet her, to hold her, to let her hear our voices. And yet, she is a part of me, of us.
At first I could do no more than lay on my couch and think about my loss. Those first days I had to force myself to shower, to dress, to eat, to sleep. Never mind cooking, cleaning, laundry, school. I have now been able to force myself to do more, but my heart is not in it yet. I will be laughing with my children, and know I will not have the chance to laugh with Hope. And I cry. I look at our family portrait, taken while I was pregnant, and I see an empty space. And I cry. I sing a song in church about the hope God has given us. And I cry. I lay my head on my pillow at night and my heart is heavy. So heavy. And I cry.
And I know that I have been given so much. That others have lost more. Are losing more. We need, I need, to choose to try and be thankful in all things. I can be thankful, as Faith put it tonight at dinner, that God gave us a blessing for a short while. We do not know why it was so short. We may never know why. Why is not really important. I am choosing to be thankful that Hope was placed with us, those who love her, even for a brief time, so that she would be loved. And loved deeply.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Hope
This will be the hardest blog I have ever written. Please bear with me.
A few weeks ago, or an eternity ago, I cannot be certain, we found out we were expecting our fifth little blessing. From the moment I saw the little plus sign, I was in love. I began praying, planning, hoping, and dreaming.
And then this dream started. I dreamed that at my first doctor’s appointment I was told my sweet baby had passed away. And then there was a little baby girl, dressed in a pretty white dress. And then I wake up in tears. And the next night, same thing. And the next night.
I went to my doctor’s appointment with excitement, and trying to push my recurring dream from my mind. I sat in the waiting room trying to figure out how many hours I would have to stare at the same posters on the wall. And waiting for the test that would confirm that I was pregnant, give me a due date, and schedule my next appointment. I had taken enough home tests to know for sure, had already figured out that they would tell me June 28, 2012. I also figured that I would be having a baby in July because my babies are always late.
Instead, I was told that we lost our baby, our sweet little baby. From the moment I had seen those positive tests, that was my child. I no longer considered that I had four children, it was now five children. I was rearranging furniture, planning our summer around the new arrival, and figuring the seating arrangement in the van. This was not possible. I could not imagine that my dream, my nightmare had come true. I insisted on a blood test.
I called the whole way home about the results. As I was opening the door, the call came. Miscarriage. I argued with the nurse. Then a midwife. Then a doctor. And hung up mad that they would lie to me. Four tests, and two days later the truth sunk in.
My baby, my sweet child, would be one I never get to hold this side of heaven. Never even have an ultrasound picture, let alone a picture. No baby items, no memories, just a few weeks of hope. And a dream of a little baby girl in a white dress. And so, my husband decided that our baby should have a name. He choose Hope. Hope Elaine.
Because we had told everyone about our blessing, we now had to tell our children. And they would feel the loss hard as they had already been planning with me, excited to share their rooms, sitting by the baby in the van, and changing diapers. They all wanted to change a diaper.
We sat them down, empty handed, heavy hearted, and shared the news. And we cried. And we mourned. And we talked. And cried some more. And we all grieved that there was not going to be memories. Each of my children has a memory box full of the things they loved the most at different ages. And a journal that I write letters to my children on special days. They wanted to make Hope a memory box. And so we have a beautiful box with a rose print. And full of what my other children all thought Hope would like. There are letters and drawings. A Precious Moments boy that says a prayer form David. A Spiderman watch from Isaac. His favorite. A favorite stuffed unicorn from Faith. The Bible that Angel was given when she was born. A journal that Angel made. Two roses,one from each big sister to their little sister. A ring with footprints from my jewelry box. A tiny baby. They want to buy a little sister necklace for Hope for Christmas. And they are planning on releasing balloons for Hope on the day she was due~ June 28th.
We took our little box to my mothers. Each child had a memento to show off, a letter, a drawing. They built their own memories of a baby that they will never meet here on earth, but know they will see in heaven. And we cried. And prayed. And talked. And even laughed. Most importantly, we loved. We loved each other, and our sweet Hope.
For you see, every life, no matter how short, has a purpose. Is loved by God. Every one of my children is loved and cherished. From the moment they exist. By God. By me. And each will have a place in my heart forever.
A few weeks ago, or an eternity ago, I cannot be certain, we found out we were expecting our fifth little blessing. From the moment I saw the little plus sign, I was in love. I began praying, planning, hoping, and dreaming.
And then this dream started. I dreamed that at my first doctor’s appointment I was told my sweet baby had passed away. And then there was a little baby girl, dressed in a pretty white dress. And then I wake up in tears. And the next night, same thing. And the next night.
I went to my doctor’s appointment with excitement, and trying to push my recurring dream from my mind. I sat in the waiting room trying to figure out how many hours I would have to stare at the same posters on the wall. And waiting for the test that would confirm that I was pregnant, give me a due date, and schedule my next appointment. I had taken enough home tests to know for sure, had already figured out that they would tell me June 28, 2012. I also figured that I would be having a baby in July because my babies are always late.
Instead, I was told that we lost our baby, our sweet little baby. From the moment I had seen those positive tests, that was my child. I no longer considered that I had four children, it was now five children. I was rearranging furniture, planning our summer around the new arrival, and figuring the seating arrangement in the van. This was not possible. I could not imagine that my dream, my nightmare had come true. I insisted on a blood test.
I called the whole way home about the results. As I was opening the door, the call came. Miscarriage. I argued with the nurse. Then a midwife. Then a doctor. And hung up mad that they would lie to me. Four tests, and two days later the truth sunk in.
My baby, my sweet child, would be one I never get to hold this side of heaven. Never even have an ultrasound picture, let alone a picture. No baby items, no memories, just a few weeks of hope. And a dream of a little baby girl in a white dress. And so, my husband decided that our baby should have a name. He choose Hope. Hope Elaine.
Because we had told everyone about our blessing, we now had to tell our children. And they would feel the loss hard as they had already been planning with me, excited to share their rooms, sitting by the baby in the van, and changing diapers. They all wanted to change a diaper.
We sat them down, empty handed, heavy hearted, and shared the news. And we cried. And we mourned. And we talked. And cried some more. And we all grieved that there was not going to be memories. Each of my children has a memory box full of the things they loved the most at different ages. And a journal that I write letters to my children on special days. They wanted to make Hope a memory box. And so we have a beautiful box with a rose print. And full of what my other children all thought Hope would like. There are letters and drawings. A Precious Moments boy that says a prayer form David. A Spiderman watch from Isaac. His favorite. A favorite stuffed unicorn from Faith. The Bible that Angel was given when she was born. A journal that Angel made. Two roses,one from each big sister to their little sister. A ring with footprints from my jewelry box. A tiny baby. They want to buy a little sister necklace for Hope for Christmas. And they are planning on releasing balloons for Hope on the day she was due~ June 28th.
We took our little box to my mothers. Each child had a memento to show off, a letter, a drawing. They built their own memories of a baby that they will never meet here on earth, but know they will see in heaven. And we cried. And prayed. And talked. And even laughed. Most importantly, we loved. We loved each other, and our sweet Hope.
For you see, every life, no matter how short, has a purpose. Is loved by God. Every one of my children is loved and cherished. From the moment they exist. By God. By me. And each will have a place in my heart forever.
“Praise You In This Storm”
I was sure by now
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”, and it’s still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
And I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can’t find You
But as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”, and it’s still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
And I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can’t find You
But as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Never Say Normal
After almost a year of not really going anywhere in order to get things under control in our family, we have been getting out and about a little more now. I knew we could not stay home forever, but I am tired. Physically, emotionally, and at times spiritually. So many times we have started out somewhere only to have to turn back home over mud, lights, noise, itchy clothes, or some other seemingly small issue.
Now is the time, however, to gradually make our way back into things. In recent weeks I have been taking the kids shopping with me again. We have gone to several stores, at times even several in the same day. We have gone to restaurants, even new ones. We have gone to the public pool, amusement parks, and libraries.
Things seem better now, but I think it is not the situations, the locations, or the people we run into. I think it may be that I have come to grips with our lives and the seeming lack of normalcy. I have decided that we need to do what we need to do regardless of the reactions or comments of the people around us. I have prepared in advance for situations we may be facing when we go out. Diaper bag with extra clothes for the potty training toddler. Sippy cup. Snacks. Ear plugs. Water. A dark hoodie. And some extra patience. My normal supply of patience only runs deep enough to cover my children and my husband. I have to pack a bit extra to cover all those people who do not understand why the nine year old rides in the buggy and the toddler walks. Why my daughter flaps, licks things, and bangs her head. Why my toddler is repeating the same phrase, same tone, the whole way through the store. Why my son acts as those rocket fuel runs through his veins.
Today we walked to a “new” restaurant. And went to the store. Without Andy. My children are children. They are loud when you want them to be quiet. They find things funny that seem gross to adults. They play all the time. And they are also a little more. Angel wore a head scarf and sunglasses, picture Jackie O., and I am pretty sure it was in case we ran into anyone we know. Faith brought everything that makes her feel comfortable in a new location- her purse filled with Pet Shops and Squinkies, ear plugs, an eye mask. and water and a snack in case she did not like the food. Isaac never sits still, but did pretty well today. We had to start out the door twice, though. The first time he forgot his pants. David went to the bathroom four times before our food arrived. Then he had an accident in the stroller on the way home. He also repeatedly, and loudly, insisted it is Christmas time because there was a red star on the wall. So most of his conversation was scripting from The Nightmare Before Christmas.
The restaurant was not too bad at first. We were the only ones there. Then three more tables filled up. Waitresses always treat us like we have the plague. The place was new to us. The music was a little loud. The food was good, but the fries were homemade, so Faith was rocking in her chair, beginning to get overwhelmed. David was insisting that it was Christmas night, and doing so in song. Isaac could not sit still. I could begin to see the other diners looking at us. And in those times I wish that I had a shirt that says “Don’t expect normal, because we are so over that!”
We went to the store. David wanted a dragon bracelet. I said yes. He asked for it for the entire half hour we were in the store. “Can I pay for this? Can I pay for this? Can I pay for this?” I stop answering after about three, because I know he is no longer talking to me. But other people do not know that. Faith got excited over a toy. Arms flapping, quoting the commercial. Very loud. And again, other customers stare.
At the check out Angel took David, who was still saying “Can I pay for this?”, out to ride a monster truck ride. I gave Faith and Isaac some quarters. As I was finished paying Isaac carried bags, Faith put the buggy back, and the man behind us, who had been looking at us all through the store spoke. “Nice family you have there. I like how they look after each other and help out. Don’t see that too often anymore.”
I looked around, making sure he was talking to us. We normally get ignored, or get told to discipline our children more. I have been told that a swift smack to one of my children will solve our “problems”. He was looking right at me and smiling. I said thank you, and left as Isaac held the door for us. As the door was closing, I heard him say to the cashier, “Those children are so well behaved.” I was amazed.
Sure, it was a challenge. I was exhausted. Taking them out can be draining. I often say it is like taking goats with me. Except my kids are louder. And people expect goats to chew, lick, kick, and generally have goat like behavior. Children, not so much. But I felt that the children did very well. And so did some random guy. And as we walked home, the kids stepping in puddles so their shoes could squeak like ducks, David saying “I paid for that”, I was very thankful for the afternoon of enjoying my children.
Now is the time, however, to gradually make our way back into things. In recent weeks I have been taking the kids shopping with me again. We have gone to several stores, at times even several in the same day. We have gone to restaurants, even new ones. We have gone to the public pool, amusement parks, and libraries.
Things seem better now, but I think it is not the situations, the locations, or the people we run into. I think it may be that I have come to grips with our lives and the seeming lack of normalcy. I have decided that we need to do what we need to do regardless of the reactions or comments of the people around us. I have prepared in advance for situations we may be facing when we go out. Diaper bag with extra clothes for the potty training toddler. Sippy cup. Snacks. Ear plugs. Water. A dark hoodie. And some extra patience. My normal supply of patience only runs deep enough to cover my children and my husband. I have to pack a bit extra to cover all those people who do not understand why the nine year old rides in the buggy and the toddler walks. Why my daughter flaps, licks things, and bangs her head. Why my toddler is repeating the same phrase, same tone, the whole way through the store. Why my son acts as those rocket fuel runs through his veins.
Today we walked to a “new” restaurant. And went to the store. Without Andy. My children are children. They are loud when you want them to be quiet. They find things funny that seem gross to adults. They play all the time. And they are also a little more. Angel wore a head scarf and sunglasses, picture Jackie O., and I am pretty sure it was in case we ran into anyone we know. Faith brought everything that makes her feel comfortable in a new location- her purse filled with Pet Shops and Squinkies, ear plugs, an eye mask. and water and a snack in case she did not like the food. Isaac never sits still, but did pretty well today. We had to start out the door twice, though. The first time he forgot his pants. David went to the bathroom four times before our food arrived. Then he had an accident in the stroller on the way home. He also repeatedly, and loudly, insisted it is Christmas time because there was a red star on the wall. So most of his conversation was scripting from The Nightmare Before Christmas.
The restaurant was not too bad at first. We were the only ones there. Then three more tables filled up. Waitresses always treat us like we have the plague. The place was new to us. The music was a little loud. The food was good, but the fries were homemade, so Faith was rocking in her chair, beginning to get overwhelmed. David was insisting that it was Christmas night, and doing so in song. Isaac could not sit still. I could begin to see the other diners looking at us. And in those times I wish that I had a shirt that says “Don’t expect normal, because we are so over that!”
We went to the store. David wanted a dragon bracelet. I said yes. He asked for it for the entire half hour we were in the store. “Can I pay for this? Can I pay for this? Can I pay for this?” I stop answering after about three, because I know he is no longer talking to me. But other people do not know that. Faith got excited over a toy. Arms flapping, quoting the commercial. Very loud. And again, other customers stare.
At the check out Angel took David, who was still saying “Can I pay for this?”, out to ride a monster truck ride. I gave Faith and Isaac some quarters. As I was finished paying Isaac carried bags, Faith put the buggy back, and the man behind us, who had been looking at us all through the store spoke. “Nice family you have there. I like how they look after each other and help out. Don’t see that too often anymore.”
I looked around, making sure he was talking to us. We normally get ignored, or get told to discipline our children more. I have been told that a swift smack to one of my children will solve our “problems”. He was looking right at me and smiling. I said thank you, and left as Isaac held the door for us. As the door was closing, I heard him say to the cashier, “Those children are so well behaved.” I was amazed.
Sure, it was a challenge. I was exhausted. Taking them out can be draining. I often say it is like taking goats with me. Except my kids are louder. And people expect goats to chew, lick, kick, and generally have goat like behavior. Children, not so much. But I felt that the children did very well. And so did some random guy. And as we walked home, the kids stepping in puddles so their shoes could squeak like ducks, David saying “I paid for that”, I was very thankful for the afternoon of enjoying my children.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Rest In Peace Flyzilla
This evening Flyzilla, made famous by his appearance in the world-renown blog “In the Blink of an Eye”, met an untimely death. His death was expected at least two or three days ago, making his demise today long overdue.
Flyzilla lived a full life and had an extended reign of terror in Casa de Raehl for at least three weeks. While pausing for a brief rest from buzzing loudly about while the children were going to bed Flyzilla was pinned between a sneaker and the bathroom mirror in the land of Upper Bathroomonia.
Preceded by several of his small minions, Flyzilla is survived by one semi-large underling and at least a dozen of his fruity relatives, all of whom temporarily reside at Casa de Raehl.
Services were held in Upper Bathroomia immediately following Flyzilla’s demise. Services included a private wake and burial at sea.
In lieu of flowers, please make cash contributions to the Raehl family for upkeep of the memorial shrine, a sparkling monument to peace and prosperity signifying the spot where aforementioned reign of terror ended. Upkeep will require many rolls of paper towels, several gallons of Windex, and a weekly maid to be utilized over the course of the next several years.
Flyzilla lived a full life and had an extended reign of terror in Casa de Raehl for at least three weeks. While pausing for a brief rest from buzzing loudly about while the children were going to bed Flyzilla was pinned between a sneaker and the bathroom mirror in the land of Upper Bathroomonia.
Preceded by several of his small minions, Flyzilla is survived by one semi-large underling and at least a dozen of his fruity relatives, all of whom temporarily reside at Casa de Raehl.
Services were held in Upper Bathroomia immediately following Flyzilla’s demise. Services included a private wake and burial at sea.
In lieu of flowers, please make cash contributions to the Raehl family for upkeep of the memorial shrine, a sparkling monument to peace and prosperity signifying the spot where aforementioned reign of terror ended. Upkeep will require many rolls of paper towels, several gallons of Windex, and a weekly maid to be utilized over the course of the next several years.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
An Open Letter to an Unwanted Guest
Dear fly,
I know we have been having quite an interesting relationship up until this point. You keep me wake with your loud incessant buzzing. I try to swat you only to break my flyswatter. You dive bomb me just as I begin to fall asleep. I sic the cat on you. You terrify my poor children who are afraid you may be a bee. So far it may seem like you are winning.
But I have news for you. I have a weapon you cannot imagine. It is the one thing that guarantee that I will prevail in this fight to the death. My secret weapon? A life span measured in years instead of days. For you see, I googled your kind. And what I found out is not going to bode well for you, or your descendants.
Tomorrow I will break out the big guns, and you will be helpless. Resistance if futile. Tomorrow when my husband goes to work, it would be best if you would go too. That is all I want. I do not need to see you die. I know that time is coming soon enough. Seek freedom, peace, and the wide open outdoors for your final days. If you are still here when I wake up, know that the traps I have set are for you. You will know them when you get stuck in them, for I am a master at stealth, cunning, and tricks I have learned on the Internet.
Never again will your kind terrorize my household thanks to the goodness of the people who contribute to Wikipedia. Never again will I cower in fear as you attempt your kamikaze mission while I sleep thanks to the people who have developed the Paper Chef flyswatter, with it’s handy tweezers and little dustpan feature developed to dispose of your remains. And never again will your kind scare my children in the middle of the night, sending them scurrying to my bed to tunnel like naked mole rats between my husband and I thanks to Dawn dish liquid that I am strategically placing in shallow cups of water in the places you lurk. And if those attempts to rid my home of you and your descendants fail, you should know that I have three frogs left, and I am not afraid to lure you into their home for supper.
For the final time I bid you good night, my winged nemesis.
Jenn, Ninja fly fighter extraordinaire
I know we have been having quite an interesting relationship up until this point. You keep me wake with your loud incessant buzzing. I try to swat you only to break my flyswatter. You dive bomb me just as I begin to fall asleep. I sic the cat on you. You terrify my poor children who are afraid you may be a bee. So far it may seem like you are winning.
But I have news for you. I have a weapon you cannot imagine. It is the one thing that guarantee that I will prevail in this fight to the death. My secret weapon? A life span measured in years instead of days. For you see, I googled your kind. And what I found out is not going to bode well for you, or your descendants.
Tomorrow I will break out the big guns, and you will be helpless. Resistance if futile. Tomorrow when my husband goes to work, it would be best if you would go too. That is all I want. I do not need to see you die. I know that time is coming soon enough. Seek freedom, peace, and the wide open outdoors for your final days. If you are still here when I wake up, know that the traps I have set are for you. You will know them when you get stuck in them, for I am a master at stealth, cunning, and tricks I have learned on the Internet.
Never again will your kind terrorize my household thanks to the goodness of the people who contribute to Wikipedia. Never again will I cower in fear as you attempt your kamikaze mission while I sleep thanks to the people who have developed the Paper Chef flyswatter, with it’s handy tweezers and little dustpan feature developed to dispose of your remains. And never again will your kind scare my children in the middle of the night, sending them scurrying to my bed to tunnel like naked mole rats between my husband and I thanks to Dawn dish liquid that I am strategically placing in shallow cups of water in the places you lurk. And if those attempts to rid my home of you and your descendants fail, you should know that I have three frogs left, and I am not afraid to lure you into their home for supper.
For the final time I bid you good night, my winged nemesis.
Jenn, Ninja fly fighter extraordinaire
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Like Father, Like Son: The Concussion Chronicles
For sure all of you are thinking that I am the Concussion Queen, and yes, that is true. And some of that will make a great blog that I shall write later. But for those of you who hang out here on a regular basis, which is pretty much Sarah and Anna, you have probably seen my husband hit his head. On everything in our house. It happens often, and usually goes something like this:
BAM
Me: “What was that noise?”
Andy:*grumbles*
Me: “What?” Because if that was not a kid, I am so not getting up…
Andy: “…..”
Me: “You hit your head again, didn’t you?”
Andy: “Umm……”
Me: “BWHAHAHAHA….I mean, are you OK?” Note my deep, deep sympathy.
We have that conversation almost daily. Pipes in the man room, that low ceiling as you go into the basement, open cupboard doors, open other doors, the shelf that keeps getting knocked out of the fridge, and, more recently, the wall, have all fallen victim to my husband’s forehead. So far he is on the losing end. Now he never gets a concussion, just a bruise, scrape, or a cut. But he passed his awkward-headed-ness on to poor David.
At first I blamed the head bumping on toddler hood. Every toddler I have ever know has tried the walk under the table trick when slightly too tall. Or misjudged and bumped his or her head when trying to jump up on someone or something. Or even the pew diving escape route from church has caused a few bruises in each of my children. And the parent or uncle who attempts to stop them.
David has all that down to an art and still he hits his head. Bending over by his toy shelf he misjudges how close he is standing and hits his head on the way down. And then on the way back up. Walking onto the back porch he hits his head on the railing. He frequently opens the door so that he gets hit by the door knob. He pulls, pushes, or knocks things over on his head. Occasionally the bump is a bit much and he starts getting a bit loopy.
The first time he had a concussion he tried to jump off an wooden swing. He succeeded in the jumping part, just not the getting off the swing the whole way part. He got dumped on the ground and the swing hit him in the back of the head. He fell into the mud, which to him was way worse than the bump on the head. We attempted to handle this like we normally do: an Iron Man ice pack, some hugs and chocolate. Then he started staggering around, said no to the chocolate, fell over a few times, and began talking nonsense. It was not until he kept asking who turned off the sun because he could not see that I became worried and took him to the ER. One CT scan, two orange Popsicles, some ibuprofen, a band aid and three hours later we were back at home. No sweat. The youngest of four has not thrown us something we have not handled before for at least a year.
Fast forward two months. Several small head bumps, bruises, skinned knees, and attempts to defy death later we get a second bump that sends us traipsing to the ER. I decided, against all other cautionary tales of my exercise mayhem that it would be a good idea to begin to enjoy family bike rides now that Faith and Isaac are getting good at riding their bikes without training wheels. First family trip: the park. We grab some water, jump on bikes, and head out. Angel, Faith, Isaac and I are riding, and David is relaxing in what he calls his rom-pom-pommer, but what normal people call a toddler seat, on the back of my bike. After a few blocks the kids start getting overconfident, and I have to admit I did too. They start weaving back and forth in front of me and one of them hits my front tire. My bike came to an abrupt halt and the back end, rom-pom-pommer, David and all fly into the air and land on the ground. David’s head hit first. It was kind of like that creepy nursery rhyme, Rock A Bye Baby.
Anyway, after untangling all the bikes, kids, and myself, we got David our of the pommer and his head was gushing blood. A few passersby took notice and came to our aid. I figured this was like every other bump on the head, but with more blood and embedded gravel, until David leaped out of my arms into the arms of some random guy and hung to him for dear life. He was screaming, “Daddy, you are here!” Over and over. Then a lady came and brought him paper towels, a Popsicle, and an ice pack. David said, “Thanks Grandma!” Then he proceed to shimmy away from “Daddy” stagger around and fall on his head. He proceeded to talking nonsense and falling over several times while trying to get away from me to “Daddy” until my mom got there to take us home. I had called out doctor and he recommended the hospital. Again.
.
We came home, picked up the kids, tracked down our bikes, and in the meanwhile David fell asleep in the van. We rode our bikes home, and as Andy was pulling the van into the driveway, David opened his eyes, looked right at me and asked for a ride in his rom-pom-pommer.
BAM
Me: “What was that noise?”
Andy:*grumbles*
Me: “What?” Because if that was not a kid, I am so not getting up…
Andy: “…..”
Me: “You hit your head again, didn’t you?”
Andy: “Umm……”
Me: “BWHAHAHAHA….I mean, are you OK?” Note my deep, deep sympathy.
We have that conversation almost daily. Pipes in the man room, that low ceiling as you go into the basement, open cupboard doors, open other doors, the shelf that keeps getting knocked out of the fridge, and, more recently, the wall, have all fallen victim to my husband’s forehead. So far he is on the losing end. Now he never gets a concussion, just a bruise, scrape, or a cut. But he passed his awkward-headed-ness on to poor David.
At first I blamed the head bumping on toddler hood. Every toddler I have ever know has tried the walk under the table trick when slightly too tall. Or misjudged and bumped his or her head when trying to jump up on someone or something. Or even the pew diving escape route from church has caused a few bruises in each of my children. And the parent or uncle who attempts to stop them.
David has all that down to an art and still he hits his head. Bending over by his toy shelf he misjudges how close he is standing and hits his head on the way down. And then on the way back up. Walking onto the back porch he hits his head on the railing. He frequently opens the door so that he gets hit by the door knob. He pulls, pushes, or knocks things over on his head. Occasionally the bump is a bit much and he starts getting a bit loopy.
The first time he had a concussion he tried to jump off an wooden swing. He succeeded in the jumping part, just not the getting off the swing the whole way part. He got dumped on the ground and the swing hit him in the back of the head. He fell into the mud, which to him was way worse than the bump on the head. We attempted to handle this like we normally do: an Iron Man ice pack, some hugs and chocolate. Then he started staggering around, said no to the chocolate, fell over a few times, and began talking nonsense. It was not until he kept asking who turned off the sun because he could not see that I became worried and took him to the ER. One CT scan, two orange Popsicles, some ibuprofen, a band aid and three hours later we were back at home. No sweat. The youngest of four has not thrown us something we have not handled before for at least a year.
Fast forward two months. Several small head bumps, bruises, skinned knees, and attempts to defy death later we get a second bump that sends us traipsing to the ER. I decided, against all other cautionary tales of my exercise mayhem that it would be a good idea to begin to enjoy family bike rides now that Faith and Isaac are getting good at riding their bikes without training wheels. First family trip: the park. We grab some water, jump on bikes, and head out. Angel, Faith, Isaac and I are riding, and David is relaxing in what he calls his rom-pom-pommer, but what normal people call a toddler seat, on the back of my bike. After a few blocks the kids start getting overconfident, and I have to admit I did too. They start weaving back and forth in front of me and one of them hits my front tire. My bike came to an abrupt halt and the back end, rom-pom-pommer, David and all fly into the air and land on the ground. David’s head hit first. It was kind of like that creepy nursery rhyme, Rock A Bye Baby.
Anyway, after untangling all the bikes, kids, and myself, we got David our of the pommer and his head was gushing blood. A few passersby took notice and came to our aid. I figured this was like every other bump on the head, but with more blood and embedded gravel, until David leaped out of my arms into the arms of some random guy and hung to him for dear life. He was screaming, “Daddy, you are here!” Over and over. Then a lady came and brought him paper towels, a Popsicle, and an ice pack. David said, “Thanks Grandma!” Then he proceed to shimmy away from “Daddy” stagger around and fall on his head. He proceeded to talking nonsense and falling over several times while trying to get away from me to “Daddy” until my mom got there to take us home. I had called out doctor and he recommended the hospital. Again.
.
We came home, picked up the kids, tracked down our bikes, and in the meanwhile David fell asleep in the van. We rode our bikes home, and as Andy was pulling the van into the driveway, David opened his eyes, looked right at me and asked for a ride in his rom-pom-pommer.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
My Budding Troubador
David has a new favorite song, and it goes a little something like this:
Stinky-my-stinky-a-bink-a-bink
Stinky-my-stinky-do
Iiiiiiiiiiiii looooooove you.
I love you in the morning, and the other morning and the other morning and Mr. moon.
Stinky-my-stinky-a-bink-a-bink
Stinky-my-stinky-do
Iiiiiiiiiiii loooooooooooove you. Two. Booo-deee-boooo! Jazz hands!!!
Eat your hearts out, Sharon, Lois and Bram!
Stinky-my-stinky-a-bink-a-bink
Stinky-my-stinky-do
Iiiiiiiiiiiii looooooove you.
I love you in the morning, and the other morning and the other morning and Mr. moon.
Stinky-my-stinky-a-bink-a-bink
Stinky-my-stinky-do
Iiiiiiiiiiii loooooooooooove you. Two. Booo-deee-boooo! Jazz hands!!!
Eat your hearts out, Sharon, Lois and Bram!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Great Expectations
All those years ago on the beginning of our homeschooling journey I had a set of expectations. They are currently at war with the reality of my life.
I pictured long nature walks. Sitting by the fire while I read great books and we all sip hot chocolate. Field trips to museums, plays, concerts, zoos, and gardens. Vacations in the off season. When book work was necessary I pictured the kids at desks with pencils and stickers. Baking cookies, preparing for holidays, setting the table with the kids in their little aprons bustling around helping out. There was a bit of glitter and some fairy dust sprinkled in the air.
And reality comes crashing in. There are whole days blocked for school work when I spend more time picking dice out of noses with tweezers than reading. I am on a first name basis with several workers at poison control. There is never a sharpened pencil to be found and the pencil sharpener, my nice, new, electric pencil sharpener, has paper jammed in it. I have two children who have either stabbed or cut up their desk chairs. If we get to go on a walk we take hours to get ready, have to pack a lunch, take extra clothes, and can not find any left shoes. When we do leave someone is always missing a necessary article of clothing. Many field trip venues are enjoyed by my crew, but none quietly or calmly. And there literally is glitter sprinkled everywhere. And cereal.
With my husband I knew that life would be an adventure. The adventure we are on is not quite the one I had pictured. There are days when I feel that instead of children I am herding goats. Stinky, smelly, messy, odd-stuff-eating goats. I literally have butt prints on my bathroom mirror. Footprints on the walls. Something orange stuck to half of the blankets in the house. The dirty laundry is taller than me, and we have an entire couch filled with folded clothes. We do not have gourmet meals because I am not very kitchen-y. That has rubbed off on all of my children.
I get stressed out, overwhelmed, and overworked. And then this happens:
I pictured long nature walks. Sitting by the fire while I read great books and we all sip hot chocolate. Field trips to museums, plays, concerts, zoos, and gardens. Vacations in the off season. When book work was necessary I pictured the kids at desks with pencils and stickers. Baking cookies, preparing for holidays, setting the table with the kids in their little aprons bustling around helping out. There was a bit of glitter and some fairy dust sprinkled in the air.
And reality comes crashing in. There are whole days blocked for school work when I spend more time picking dice out of noses with tweezers than reading. I am on a first name basis with several workers at poison control. There is never a sharpened pencil to be found and the pencil sharpener, my nice, new, electric pencil sharpener, has paper jammed in it. I have two children who have either stabbed or cut up their desk chairs. If we get to go on a walk we take hours to get ready, have to pack a lunch, take extra clothes, and can not find any left shoes. When we do leave someone is always missing a necessary article of clothing. Many field trip venues are enjoyed by my crew, but none quietly or calmly. And there literally is glitter sprinkled everywhere. And cereal.
With my husband I knew that life would be an adventure. The adventure we are on is not quite the one I had pictured. There are days when I feel that instead of children I am herding goats. Stinky, smelly, messy, odd-stuff-eating goats. I literally have butt prints on my bathroom mirror. Footprints on the walls. Something orange stuck to half of the blankets in the house. The dirty laundry is taller than me, and we have an entire couch filled with folded clothes. We do not have gourmet meals because I am not very kitchen-y. That has rubbed off on all of my children.
I get stressed out, overwhelmed, and overworked. And then this happens:
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Satire
Wow, OK, I never thought I would have to do this. But here goes…
I recently wrote about the end of the world. Despite the obvious lack of scientific proof, the dripping sarcasm, and my belief that Jesus was the one who had it right and no one knows or can know when the world will end, there have been very many personal responses either trying to prove me wrong or link my site to one that “proves” the end of the world.
Just for the record: This was a satirical look the topic. Yes, it was full of my opinions and no actual facts. That happens often on this blog. It is done on purpose. I will not approve comments or ping backs that ridicule my belief in God or are extremely argumentative. I will not link you site to mine if the purpose is to mock my beliefs. I will not approve comments that can not be read by my younger readers. And I will not be interested in learning more about any group that can be classified as a cult, even for my own personal enlightenment. And because I have had an inbox full of all these things in the past two days, comments will be on an approval basis on this and the other post.
That being said, I have no idea how in the world these people have found me. Perhaps I have way more readers than the 5 or 6 I imagine…
I recently wrote about the end of the world. Despite the obvious lack of scientific proof, the dripping sarcasm, and my belief that Jesus was the one who had it right and no one knows or can know when the world will end, there have been very many personal responses either trying to prove me wrong or link my site to one that “proves” the end of the world.
Just for the record: This was a satirical look the topic. Yes, it was full of my opinions and no actual facts. That happens often on this blog. It is done on purpose. I will not approve comments or ping backs that ridicule my belief in God or are extremely argumentative. I will not link you site to mine if the purpose is to mock my beliefs. I will not approve comments that can not be read by my younger readers. And I will not be interested in learning more about any group that can be classified as a cult, even for my own personal enlightenment. And because I have had an inbox full of all these things in the past two days, comments will be on an approval basis on this and the other post.
That being said, I have no idea how in the world these people have found me. Perhaps I have way more readers than the 5 or 6 I imagine…
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The End of the World
I do not mean to alarm anyone, but I have come to believe that the world is going to end soon. I know, I know, people have been saying this for centuries.
There is all this news about the Mayan calendar. I have always assumed that the whole Mayan calendar things was no big deal. I mean,come on! I think that there was some poor Mayan student in middle school who got into trouble and in Mayan detention had to write out the calendar until he served his time. This is the record that remained because he carved it on the stone chalkboard, the one that did not deteriorate over time. I know from personal experience that these kinds of experiences can change your life. Perhaps all that writing made him interested in developing an accurate calendar to figure out the date his grounding would end, which is coming up next year, lucky fella. I will not be out from under all the grounding heaped upon me in middle school until about the fall of 3049. I also think that middle school detention is why I have such a large vocabulary. I had to copy from the dictionary. Quite a bit. I made it almost through the letter C before I wised up.
There is always someone, some where, who claims to know that exact location, day and time of Jesus’ return. All I can say to that is I am impressed. Not only did Jesus himself say He did not know the hour of His return, but I hope those people who gather at the spot have a much more accurate GPS than I used on my way home from the Science Center. The arrival time said 45 minutes for about an hour. If they do not have it right they could miss the whole thing and have to wait for the next guy that knows these incredible details to come along, and who knows how long that will be.
Neither of these are the reasons that I believe the world is coming to an end soon. You see, it all started a while ago when Andy realized that he really does like science fiction. I assumed at first that it was due to prolonged exposure. Then last night something incredible happened. I still am amazed. I went to put on my jammies to get comfy for watching sci-fi shows with Andy when I found my favorite jammies had a hole in them. And I can not believe what happened next. I decided to sew them. I know! I will say it again, please read it slowly: I decided to s-e-w t-h-e-m.
You see, under these circumstances I usually do one of three things. One, I notice the hole and wear them anyway. Come on, they are jammies. Who cares, right? Two, I put them back. Three, I say I am going to sew them and put them in a bag. Six months later I throw them out. I have to admit I had completed steps one and two at least three times with these jammies. And they are my favorites, so I was not quite ready to move on to step three. So to add to the miraculous event, I actually found a needle and thread. In my house. (Did I make you a believer yet??) Then, after Andy laughed at my feeble attempts to use that threading thingie incorrectly for about ten minutes he showed me how to thread the needle. And then I went to work as we watched our show. I actually finished after only messing up 978 times, poking about 123,598 holes in my fingers and two episodes of Stargate. Good thing it was a small hole.
As if all this was not enough proof that the world is coming to an end, or at least the world as we know it is coming to an end, I have even more proof. Tonight after supper I washed the dishes. But wait, there is more! I found it relaxing.
There is all this news about the Mayan calendar. I have always assumed that the whole Mayan calendar things was no big deal. I mean,come on! I think that there was some poor Mayan student in middle school who got into trouble and in Mayan detention had to write out the calendar until he served his time. This is the record that remained because he carved it on the stone chalkboard, the one that did not deteriorate over time. I know from personal experience that these kinds of experiences can change your life. Perhaps all that writing made him interested in developing an accurate calendar to figure out the date his grounding would end, which is coming up next year, lucky fella. I will not be out from under all the grounding heaped upon me in middle school until about the fall of 3049. I also think that middle school detention is why I have such a large vocabulary. I had to copy from the dictionary. Quite a bit. I made it almost through the letter C before I wised up.
There is always someone, some where, who claims to know that exact location, day and time of Jesus’ return. All I can say to that is I am impressed. Not only did Jesus himself say He did not know the hour of His return, but I hope those people who gather at the spot have a much more accurate GPS than I used on my way home from the Science Center. The arrival time said 45 minutes for about an hour. If they do not have it right they could miss the whole thing and have to wait for the next guy that knows these incredible details to come along, and who knows how long that will be.
Neither of these are the reasons that I believe the world is coming to an end soon. You see, it all started a while ago when Andy realized that he really does like science fiction. I assumed at first that it was due to prolonged exposure. Then last night something incredible happened. I still am amazed. I went to put on my jammies to get comfy for watching sci-fi shows with Andy when I found my favorite jammies had a hole in them. And I can not believe what happened next. I decided to sew them. I know! I will say it again, please read it slowly: I decided to s-e-w t-h-e-m.
You see, under these circumstances I usually do one of three things. One, I notice the hole and wear them anyway. Come on, they are jammies. Who cares, right? Two, I put them back. Three, I say I am going to sew them and put them in a bag. Six months later I throw them out. I have to admit I had completed steps one and two at least three times with these jammies. And they are my favorites, so I was not quite ready to move on to step three. So to add to the miraculous event, I actually found a needle and thread. In my house. (Did I make you a believer yet??) Then, after Andy laughed at my feeble attempts to use that threading thingie incorrectly for about ten minutes he showed me how to thread the needle. And then I went to work as we watched our show. I actually finished after only messing up 978 times, poking about 123,598 holes in my fingers and two episodes of Stargate. Good thing it was a small hole.
As if all this was not enough proof that the world is coming to an end, or at least the world as we know it is coming to an end, I have even more proof. Tonight after supper I washed the dishes. But wait, there is more! I found it relaxing.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Change-R-Us
We are in the middle of a remodeling project. I say middle with much optimism. Very much optimism. We are pulling up carpeting, ripping off wall paper, sanding wood work and installing a light in the living room. For the first time in my married life I will have a living room light. Now, of course, when I say we I really mean Andy is doing the “work” kind of work. I am doing the “picking paint colors kind of work”, and let me tell you, that is hard!
By the completion of the project we will have refinished the hardwood floors in the dining room, both living rooms and the hallway. There will be fresh paint in the same rooms. And the furniture will be in the room it belongs in. Unlike our current random couch placement. Or book towers in every room. Or chairs in odd corners.
More than the work work, the picking colors work, the moving furniture work (also not me), the hardest part has been with Faith. She has a very hard time with change, which we know is a part of her Asperger’s Syndrome. Knowing where it comes from only helps us to understand. It does not make it easier for her or for us. She has a fit over each layer of wall paper. Each section of carpeting. Each knocked out section of drywall. Each ceiling block that is removed. Every strip of carpet tacks, which she calls carpet attacks and is waiting for them to, well, to attack.
We are also working on switching bedrooms to spilt up the girls. Which starts with getting rid of toys to move the toy room to a smaller room. My bedroom to the attic. The boys to my room. Faith to the boys room. And Angel gets to stay put and spread out a bit. And that way no one is in Faith’s space. But until then our entire house is in upheaval. Except for the bathrooms. They get to stay the same and are too small to store things in. The kitchen is not getting changed. Yet. But it has a nice corner for storing books in boxes. Or furniture. Or ladders.
Our whole house is like that Bert and Ernie book about how the fish ended up in Bert’s favorite cowboy hat. And yes, I do have a book for everything. I think that one is under the china cupboard.
By the completion of the project we will have refinished the hardwood floors in the dining room, both living rooms and the hallway. There will be fresh paint in the same rooms. And the furniture will be in the room it belongs in. Unlike our current random couch placement. Or book towers in every room. Or chairs in odd corners.
More than the work work, the picking colors work, the moving furniture work (also not me), the hardest part has been with Faith. She has a very hard time with change, which we know is a part of her Asperger’s Syndrome. Knowing where it comes from only helps us to understand. It does not make it easier for her or for us. She has a fit over each layer of wall paper. Each section of carpeting. Each knocked out section of drywall. Each ceiling block that is removed. Every strip of carpet tacks, which she calls carpet attacks and is waiting for them to, well, to attack.
We are also working on switching bedrooms to spilt up the girls. Which starts with getting rid of toys to move the toy room to a smaller room. My bedroom to the attic. The boys to my room. Faith to the boys room. And Angel gets to stay put and spread out a bit. And that way no one is in Faith’s space. But until then our entire house is in upheaval. Except for the bathrooms. They get to stay the same and are too small to store things in. The kitchen is not getting changed. Yet. But it has a nice corner for storing books in boxes. Or furniture. Or ladders.
Our whole house is like that Bert and Ernie book about how the fish ended up in Bert’s favorite cowboy hat. And yes, I do have a book for everything. I think that one is under the china cupboard.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Creationary or Bust! Mostly Bust...
Andy bought the game Lego Creationary. Or what I lovingly call the game that makes me look like an idiot. It is just like Pictionary. But with Legos instead of the pen and paper I already have an epic fail using. I played for about an hour today with Faith and Isaac. Isaac went first and built a gas pump that looked like a gas pump. It even had buttons and a hose. Faith went next and built a church with a steeple and a guy holding a square Bible walking in the door. I took my turn and built a banana that looked like a yellow rectangle with some brown on top. Isaac built a canoe with a man riding in it. Faith built a red T Rex with moving jaws. I built a car that looked like a red rectangle with wheels on bottom. Isaac built a light house. On a rocky beach. He even put on a white speck for a seashell. Faith built a wavy snake with a forked tongue and working jaws. I built a lawn mower that looked suspiciously like my car with smaller wheels and a handle on top.
As the next round was about to begin I excused myself before I could be furtherhumiliated myself, er, to go make supper. As I left the room Faith called me back. She said “Mommy, don’t feel bad. You did real good for a beginner. And there are lots of things you can do that other people can’t. Umm, like, laundry. Those times you do laundry you do it real good.” And that is supposed to make me feel better?
That’s it. Next game night I am going to play with David. I can’t beat Faith and Isaac at Legos. I can not beat Angel at Yahtzee. Or Wii bowling. Or Uno. But David can beat me at Candy Land without me looking like a loser. It may even look like I let him win.
As the next round was about to begin I excused myself before I could be further
That’s it. Next game night I am going to play with David. I can’t beat Faith and Isaac at Legos. I can not beat Angel at Yahtzee. Or Wii bowling. Or Uno. But David can beat me at Candy Land without me looking like a loser. It may even look like I let him win.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Animal Spirits
Sometimes at our house it seems like the school is open 24/7. We have school with the kids, my schooling and Andy’s. Andy and I try to keep it separate, but there are times that he is in one room, I am in the other and the kids are watching a movie. It is that or never sleep. And I still feel as if I never sleep. When I am overworked and overtired, my dreams become quite, well, quite strange really. I am sure no one can even imagine that!
Last night, for example, after the kids were settled in bed I wrote a paper, read a chapter and did my text problems for that chapter. I am not really a huge math fan, so that was hard. And yet I am a perfectionist, so it was really hard. I finally got to sleep around 1AM after studying square roots. No matter what I dreamt, there were square roots. We were all at the beach swimming, and I had square roots leeches. We were hiking at camp, square root leeches.
This brings me to the totally unscientific conclusion that if mathematics had an animal spirit, it would be none other than a blood sucking leech. Language arts would be a wise old owl. Wearing reading glasses, of course. History would be a Galapagos turtle. One of the elders. Science would be a platypus; part theory, part belief, part science, part myth. And those parts are always fighting.
And now, time for school. we are going to have a little leech, a little owl, and one big platypus over today. Don’t want to keep the natives waiting!
Last night, for example, after the kids were settled in bed I wrote a paper, read a chapter and did my text problems for that chapter. I am not really a huge math fan, so that was hard. And yet I am a perfectionist, so it was really hard. I finally got to sleep around 1AM after studying square roots. No matter what I dreamt, there were square roots. We were all at the beach swimming, and I had square roots leeches. We were hiking at camp, square root leeches.
This brings me to the totally unscientific conclusion that if mathematics had an animal spirit, it would be none other than a blood sucking leech. Language arts would be a wise old owl. Wearing reading glasses, of course. History would be a Galapagos turtle. One of the elders. Science would be a platypus; part theory, part belief, part science, part myth. And those parts are always fighting.
And now, time for school. we are going to have a little leech, a little owl, and one big platypus over today. Don’t want to keep the natives waiting!
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
The Contents of a Lady's Purse
I have heard it said you can tell a lot about a woman by the contents of her purse. If that is true, I am in big trouble. It is not the odd little things that have been planted there by my children for me to hold “just for a sec”. I had odd stuff before that.
Regardless of how many children I have had, including the while I had no children of my own, I always had a few little toys,crayons and paper, and a weenie whistle. The whistle was for sentimental reasons. I have even had a rock in there, prechildren. It was a prayer rock for me to remember to pray for a good friend’s salvation. I still have it and am still praying for her. And always a broken pair of sunglasses. And a card with two penguins, one of whom has a fish eating his head. It says “Relax, God is in charge.”
Then come children. And now I have four card games, a seashell magnet shaped like a fish, two salt packets, broken pencils, a piece of bark that was chewed off a tree by a beaver, a pen that leaked, darts for a gun, an etch-a-sketch key chain with a key to nothing, a pile of receipts, shot record books, coins from a foreign county I have never been to, a few Legos, and a stick. That is in addition to my wallet, a hairbrush, lipstick, a lipstick tube form lipstick Isaac melted by placing it on the heater, nail polish, hair clips, a nail kit, tiny scissors, a tiny flashlight, a tiny screwdriver, reading glasses, broken sun glasses, non-broken sunglasses, a granola bar, two packs of crackers, baby wipes, a diaper, lotion, hand sanitizer, a bottle of water and a Ziploc baggie of pennies that says Isaac.
And I still have to say those are not the things that get me. Not at all. Because most of those can be expected from the bag I carry when I have the children I have. No, the part that bothers me is even worse. Since having my first child I have had the most disgusting things land in, drop in, flop in, drip in, and magically appear in my purse. I expect a certain amount of crumbs, especially with the crackers. But I have had an ice cream cone, milk, Pepsi, a sandwich, chewed up gum, and a dirty diaper. ( I had no where else to put that! Mall change rooms should always have a trash can. Always.) Live bugs, dead bugs, fake bugs, something slimy I never even asked what it was. Fish bait that got loose. A mushy brown banana. I hope it was a banana.
All I can think of is the episode of Mad About you when the flighty sister, Lisa, got her purse mixed up with Jamie. Lisa was all pulled together for the day because of the contents of Jamie’s purse. She was on time, functional and got a job. And Jamie’s life spiraled out of control because of the junk in her sister’s purse. She was late everywhere, lost everything, and was a wreck by the end of the day. It was like each woman’s personality was tied to the contents of her purse.
So if the contents of my purse tell you something about me, I am mushy, gushy, slimy, crumby, broken, odd, and smell slightly like bad milk. And there may also be a sign popping out that says “Stay Away!!”
Regardless of how many children I have had, including the while I had no children of my own, I always had a few little toys,crayons and paper, and a weenie whistle. The whistle was for sentimental reasons. I have even had a rock in there, prechildren. It was a prayer rock for me to remember to pray for a good friend’s salvation. I still have it and am still praying for her. And always a broken pair of sunglasses. And a card with two penguins, one of whom has a fish eating his head. It says “Relax, God is in charge.”
Then come children. And now I have four card games, a seashell magnet shaped like a fish, two salt packets, broken pencils, a piece of bark that was chewed off a tree by a beaver, a pen that leaked, darts for a gun, an etch-a-sketch key chain with a key to nothing, a pile of receipts, shot record books, coins from a foreign county I have never been to, a few Legos, and a stick. That is in addition to my wallet, a hairbrush, lipstick, a lipstick tube form lipstick Isaac melted by placing it on the heater, nail polish, hair clips, a nail kit, tiny scissors, a tiny flashlight, a tiny screwdriver, reading glasses, broken sun glasses, non-broken sunglasses, a granola bar, two packs of crackers, baby wipes, a diaper, lotion, hand sanitizer, a bottle of water and a Ziploc baggie of pennies that says Isaac.
And I still have to say those are not the things that get me. Not at all. Because most of those can be expected from the bag I carry when I have the children I have. No, the part that bothers me is even worse. Since having my first child I have had the most disgusting things land in, drop in, flop in, drip in, and magically appear in my purse. I expect a certain amount of crumbs, especially with the crackers. But I have had an ice cream cone, milk, Pepsi, a sandwich, chewed up gum, and a dirty diaper. ( I had no where else to put that! Mall change rooms should always have a trash can. Always.) Live bugs, dead bugs, fake bugs, something slimy I never even asked what it was. Fish bait that got loose. A mushy brown banana. I hope it was a banana.
All I can think of is the episode of Mad About you when the flighty sister, Lisa, got her purse mixed up with Jamie. Lisa was all pulled together for the day because of the contents of Jamie’s purse. She was on time, functional and got a job. And Jamie’s life spiraled out of control because of the junk in her sister’s purse. She was late everywhere, lost everything, and was a wreck by the end of the day. It was like each woman’s personality was tied to the contents of her purse.
So if the contents of my purse tell you something about me, I am mushy, gushy, slimy, crumby, broken, odd, and smell slightly like bad milk. And there may also be a sign popping out that says “Stay Away!!”
Saturday, January 8, 2011
On Books and procrastination...
I like books. A lot. Actually, I love books. I also love reading. I can read anything and enjoy it, including the dictionary and the information in the phone book. I read online. I read ebooks. I read magazines and newspapers and cereal boxes. I do a lot of different types of reading. I read for personal growth. I read for pleasure. I read for information. I read for education. I read for the enjoyment of losing myself in the written word. There are so many ways to do all of that reading, and the most convenient, the cheapest, and the easiest to access is on the Internet. I go to school on the Internet. I gather information for the kid’s schooling on the Internet. I can even read the newspaper, magazine articles, and books on the Internet. I love the ability to find my information quickly.
But there is just something about a book. The feel of the pages, the new book smell, the weight of it in my hands. I surround myself with literature on a variety of topics. When I research something in-depth, I love to surround myself with the books I need to reference. I could lose myself in a library. Not only are the characters in those stories good friends, the actual books themselves are as well. I can find the story, the idea, the thoughts I am looking for with a few flips of the pages.
Going to school online has many perks, but the biggest draw back is that my text books are online as well. Most I download a chapter at a time. I can not feel the pages, flip to information, highlight text, or experience that new book smell. I can only access them while I attend my college because they are password protected. And I can not find the information I need because I scroll through page after page without even knowing I turned the page. And of course there are some books I am glad to not have laying around the house after the class is over. I would probably toss my algebra text book out the window in a fit of joy if I had one. (One being a text book, not a fit of joy, which I did have at the end of Algebra.)
The pages of my favorite books are wearing thin. Without highlighting one can see my favorite portions of text from wear. This is true of my Bible, Lucado and Swindoll books, and also Dekker, Gansky, Peretti and many others. And so I am having a hard time in my classes online because I am having a hard time losing myself in the reading. Instead of researching the reasons behind the founding fathers establishment of a government with three branches and the impact of those three branches on the government of today I am writing a blog. Not even a good or interesting blog, but it is killing time. And now, back to my even more boring government paper…
But there is just something about a book. The feel of the pages, the new book smell, the weight of it in my hands. I surround myself with literature on a variety of topics. When I research something in-depth, I love to surround myself with the books I need to reference. I could lose myself in a library. Not only are the characters in those stories good friends, the actual books themselves are as well. I can find the story, the idea, the thoughts I am looking for with a few flips of the pages.
Going to school online has many perks, but the biggest draw back is that my text books are online as well. Most I download a chapter at a time. I can not feel the pages, flip to information, highlight text, or experience that new book smell. I can only access them while I attend my college because they are password protected. And I can not find the information I need because I scroll through page after page without even knowing I turned the page. And of course there are some books I am glad to not have laying around the house after the class is over. I would probably toss my algebra text book out the window in a fit of joy if I had one. (One being a text book, not a fit of joy, which I did have at the end of Algebra.)
The pages of my favorite books are wearing thin. Without highlighting one can see my favorite portions of text from wear. This is true of my Bible, Lucado and Swindoll books, and also Dekker, Gansky, Peretti and many others. And so I am having a hard time in my classes online because I am having a hard time losing myself in the reading. Instead of researching the reasons behind the founding fathers establishment of a government with three branches and the impact of those three branches on the government of today I am writing a blog. Not even a good or interesting blog, but it is killing time. And now, back to my even more boring government paper…
Saturday, January 1, 2011
2010
As I sit here amidst the remnants of the party ushering in the new year I can not help but reflect upon the past year. If I had to sum up our year in one word, it would be the word “full.” Full of surprises, full of expectation, full of disappointment, full of joy. And most of all, full of God’s mercy and glory.
In January we celebrated David’s first birthday with a wonderful homemade set of cakes that the kids decorated to look like a snowman and a frozen pond. Andy put his schooling on hold while trying to test into a program at the college. As with all winters, there were very cold, snowy times when he was laid off, but he still was working when they could. Tony joined us on a field trip to the Science Center. We got lost in downtown Pittsburgh. It was a terrifying trip home, and I remain scarred to this day.
February brought some new changes. We took a trip to the Harrisburg/ Hershey area while Andy attended a conference to become a ride inspector. We got to visit Hershey, touring the Kiss Works, riding the Chocolate World ride, and enjoying the gift shop. We also got to tour the PA State House, visit a park, and see the PA State Museum. I parallel parked in downtown Harrisburg- twice. I did get a ticket, but that was for letting the meter expire, not my parking. We enjoyed time at the pool as well. We watched some of the Olympics and did a huge project for school on the Olympics, Canada, and chocolate.
In March I had the opportunity to go to a home school women’s retreat. It was wonderful, refreshing, and enlightening. All of those things I was soon to need to fall back on as we had David in the hospital. He had RSV, a rotavirus, and asthma attacks. We had him there for a few days, and all the kids were at home sick. While we were there Andy had to go to training for the program at the college. After a few rough days, and even rougher nights, the pneumonia that followed the RSV was under control and we came home. David has asthma that needs treated daily, but it may improve over time.
After that, April seemed so calm, even with school in full swing and Easter! A visit from the SC Raehls was wonderful and we spent our days chasing trains, playing, and squeezing in some bookwork. The weather was wonderful for playing outside, and we all enjoyed that. With the weather becoming more suitable for working outdoors Andy got more hours in at work.
The spring crept along as we headed into May. Angel had her first evaluation for school, and her first standardized testing. She scored above average across the board, which is even more incredible seeing as she is a grade ahead of her peers. We celebrated Mother’s Day as always, outdoors! Between wrapping up the school year and preparation for VBS, I was quite busy.
June was great! Great weather, great fun! Isaac and I got a chance to head out to Sandbox Camp together. We had a wonderful time at Camp Allegheny. It was an awesome start to our summer. We did have to miss out on a vacation I really wanted to take, but Andy was busy with his full time job, Firefly, and ride set ups. We began our Bible Club again at the Spangler UMC, and we had good attendance from the first week. I began writing out my curriculum in ebook format. I am a Currclick publisher, with only one title, but still, my mom is not the only one who bought one.
The final step in the testing and training for the program Andy was trying to get into was in July. I am so proud of how well he did, but because training was so long and he was planning on going back to school, he lost his job. We were not expecting or prepared for that. He tried to work more on Firefly and having more shows, and he got a few. We missed going to Idlewild this year as Angel was not dancing there. We went camping instead, and this time Mom, Dad, Josh, Tony, Scott, Theresa, Will, Rachel, Luke, Bella, Andy, Angel, Faith, Isaac, David, Mariah and I were all there. As you can imagine, it was a unique wonderful sort of chaos! We had a great time swimming, playing outside, and just being together. After we got the kids past the no electronics rule. We had a fun time at the Demi family reunion. Faith turned 8, and I can not believe it! I began back to school in July as well at an online college. At the end of the month Angel and Faith went to Camp Allegheny as well.
August started well with VBS. We learned about Joseph and Egypt. It was an awesome event. I was energized and renewed by the children that week, as well as the teachers and helpers. Following VBS, we also wrapped up Bible Club. It had been a busy summer of Tuesdays, and we had many children at least once. We are still praying that those seeds planted with come to fruition. We took a family trip to Lakemont. David and Isaac rode the kiddie rides, Angel, Faith and Isaac drug us on some of the bigger rides, and we all enjoyed the water park. At the end of the month we started back to school, at least the “book work” part, seeing how we had been to some great field trips. Andy and I got to go out to celebrate 12 great years of marriage. Somewhere in there Andy got a job, and then lost that job.
September was a special time because we had a wonderful Chordas family reunion. I got to see relatives that I had not seen for quite a while, and meet some relatives I had never seen before. We stayed over at my parents old house in a big sleepover for Labor Day Weekend. We celebrated several birthdays- Isaac, Andy and I all have September birthdays. We began to get back into the groove of school but hit some sicknesses. Faith and David had pneumonia and bronchitis. We battled a stomach virus. Andy had been working on Firefly, but with no savings to fall back on he needed to go back to work in construction. We are praying that changes so he can entertain full time.
The days grew longer and the weekends were filled with soccer in October. I love the fall, but felt a twinge of sadness this year. We ushered in the previous fall at the beach. The kids were now back to puppets, soccer, dance, etc. We had busy days of school, busy nights, and busy weekends. We enjoyed the pumpkin patch, the corn maze, and Halloween. Angel had a Death By Chocolate birthday party, after which she did not ask for chocolate for about two minutes. Tops. Andy had been off, so we began to tear up the carpeting in our house. Project completion estimation: approximately never.
By November I had to make the decision to schedule testing for Faith. We had been struggling for quite a while. I made the first appointment for a referral, and then we headed into Thanksgiving. My mom hosted this year, which gave me more time to plot our Black Friday plan of attack. With our crew prepped and ready, I headed to my house to nap before heading out that night. Tony, Jess, Theresa and I shopped. Josh guided us from home, amazing me with his directions, which prompted me to ask him if he placed a tracker on our van. We began the long process of preparing for Christmas that weekend.
December began with snow. And more snow. Then we had Faith’s evaluation. She was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome and ADHD. Big words that feel like daggers to a mothers heart that tell us we need to make some changes before heading back to school. We took a school break early for Christmas as we reevaluate our teaching time. And I muddled trough Algebra rounding out my first very full semester with a 4.0. David’s asthma has been acting up so we have to give him breathing treatments three times a day. Christmas was wonderful, with me getting my dream gift of a Keurig. And a Wii, for the kids, at least that’s what I told them.
Somewhere in there was the car dying, Andy getting laid off (but not fired) currently, and us struggling financially and getting to see God provide in awesome and dramatic ways. I had to learn in a very real way that perfection is not something I can achieve this side of heaven. And more important than knowing that, I had to realize that is okay. Daily I have been learning more of God, needing Him more, trusting Him more. I had a very hard time dealing with David’s asthma, Faith’s diagnosis and the loss of the schooling opportunity for Andy. Allowing God control of my life can look vastly different from what I expect of my life, and yet it is more beautiful, more wonderful, and more full than I could ever imagine.
In January we celebrated David’s first birthday with a wonderful homemade set of cakes that the kids decorated to look like a snowman and a frozen pond. Andy put his schooling on hold while trying to test into a program at the college. As with all winters, there were very cold, snowy times when he was laid off, but he still was working when they could. Tony joined us on a field trip to the Science Center. We got lost in downtown Pittsburgh. It was a terrifying trip home, and I remain scarred to this day.
February brought some new changes. We took a trip to the Harrisburg/ Hershey area while Andy attended a conference to become a ride inspector. We got to visit Hershey, touring the Kiss Works, riding the Chocolate World ride, and enjoying the gift shop. We also got to tour the PA State House, visit a park, and see the PA State Museum. I parallel parked in downtown Harrisburg- twice. I did get a ticket, but that was for letting the meter expire, not my parking. We enjoyed time at the pool as well. We watched some of the Olympics and did a huge project for school on the Olympics, Canada, and chocolate.
In March I had the opportunity to go to a home school women’s retreat. It was wonderful, refreshing, and enlightening. All of those things I was soon to need to fall back on as we had David in the hospital. He had RSV, a rotavirus, and asthma attacks. We had him there for a few days, and all the kids were at home sick. While we were there Andy had to go to training for the program at the college. After a few rough days, and even rougher nights, the pneumonia that followed the RSV was under control and we came home. David has asthma that needs treated daily, but it may improve over time.
After that, April seemed so calm, even with school in full swing and Easter! A visit from the SC Raehls was wonderful and we spent our days chasing trains, playing, and squeezing in some bookwork. The weather was wonderful for playing outside, and we all enjoyed that. With the weather becoming more suitable for working outdoors Andy got more hours in at work.
The spring crept along as we headed into May. Angel had her first evaluation for school, and her first standardized testing. She scored above average across the board, which is even more incredible seeing as she is a grade ahead of her peers. We celebrated Mother’s Day as always, outdoors! Between wrapping up the school year and preparation for VBS, I was quite busy.
June was great! Great weather, great fun! Isaac and I got a chance to head out to Sandbox Camp together. We had a wonderful time at Camp Allegheny. It was an awesome start to our summer. We did have to miss out on a vacation I really wanted to take, but Andy was busy with his full time job, Firefly, and ride set ups. We began our Bible Club again at the Spangler UMC, and we had good attendance from the first week. I began writing out my curriculum in ebook format. I am a Currclick publisher, with only one title, but still, my mom is not the only one who bought one.
The final step in the testing and training for the program Andy was trying to get into was in July. I am so proud of how well he did, but because training was so long and he was planning on going back to school, he lost his job. We were not expecting or prepared for that. He tried to work more on Firefly and having more shows, and he got a few. We missed going to Idlewild this year as Angel was not dancing there. We went camping instead, and this time Mom, Dad, Josh, Tony, Scott, Theresa, Will, Rachel, Luke, Bella, Andy, Angel, Faith, Isaac, David, Mariah and I were all there. As you can imagine, it was a unique wonderful sort of chaos! We had a great time swimming, playing outside, and just being together. After we got the kids past the no electronics rule. We had a fun time at the Demi family reunion. Faith turned 8, and I can not believe it! I began back to school in July as well at an online college. At the end of the month Angel and Faith went to Camp Allegheny as well.
August started well with VBS. We learned about Joseph and Egypt. It was an awesome event. I was energized and renewed by the children that week, as well as the teachers and helpers. Following VBS, we also wrapped up Bible Club. It had been a busy summer of Tuesdays, and we had many children at least once. We are still praying that those seeds planted with come to fruition. We took a family trip to Lakemont. David and Isaac rode the kiddie rides, Angel, Faith and Isaac drug us on some of the bigger rides, and we all enjoyed the water park. At the end of the month we started back to school, at least the “book work” part, seeing how we had been to some great field trips. Andy and I got to go out to celebrate 12 great years of marriage. Somewhere in there Andy got a job, and then lost that job.
September was a special time because we had a wonderful Chordas family reunion. I got to see relatives that I had not seen for quite a while, and meet some relatives I had never seen before. We stayed over at my parents old house in a big sleepover for Labor Day Weekend. We celebrated several birthdays- Isaac, Andy and I all have September birthdays. We began to get back into the groove of school but hit some sicknesses. Faith and David had pneumonia and bronchitis. We battled a stomach virus. Andy had been working on Firefly, but with no savings to fall back on he needed to go back to work in construction. We are praying that changes so he can entertain full time.
The days grew longer and the weekends were filled with soccer in October. I love the fall, but felt a twinge of sadness this year. We ushered in the previous fall at the beach. The kids were now back to puppets, soccer, dance, etc. We had busy days of school, busy nights, and busy weekends. We enjoyed the pumpkin patch, the corn maze, and Halloween. Angel had a Death By Chocolate birthday party, after which she did not ask for chocolate for about two minutes. Tops. Andy had been off, so we began to tear up the carpeting in our house. Project completion estimation: approximately never.
By November I had to make the decision to schedule testing for Faith. We had been struggling for quite a while. I made the first appointment for a referral, and then we headed into Thanksgiving. My mom hosted this year, which gave me more time to plot our Black Friday plan of attack. With our crew prepped and ready, I headed to my house to nap before heading out that night. Tony, Jess, Theresa and I shopped. Josh guided us from home, amazing me with his directions, which prompted me to ask him if he placed a tracker on our van. We began the long process of preparing for Christmas that weekend.
December began with snow. And more snow. Then we had Faith’s evaluation. She was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome and ADHD. Big words that feel like daggers to a mothers heart that tell us we need to make some changes before heading back to school. We took a school break early for Christmas as we reevaluate our teaching time. And I muddled trough Algebra rounding out my first very full semester with a 4.0. David’s asthma has been acting up so we have to give him breathing treatments three times a day. Christmas was wonderful, with me getting my dream gift of a Keurig. And a Wii, for the kids, at least that’s what I told them.
Somewhere in there was the car dying, Andy getting laid off (but not fired) currently, and us struggling financially and getting to see God provide in awesome and dramatic ways. I had to learn in a very real way that perfection is not something I can achieve this side of heaven. And more important than knowing that, I had to realize that is okay. Daily I have been learning more of God, needing Him more, trusting Him more. I had a very hard time dealing with David’s asthma, Faith’s diagnosis and the loss of the schooling opportunity for Andy. Allowing God control of my life can look vastly different from what I expect of my life, and yet it is more beautiful, more wonderful, and more full than I could ever imagine.
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