Every year I take a look back at all that the year brought and share a few highlights. Sometimes I focus on just the good, sometimes I focus on the most memorable, and other times I focus on the things that I have pictures of on Facebook. That is my life in a nutshell. Sometimes good, sometimes simply memorable, and other times I can't remember it all unless I am reminded. On Facebook. This year i will try to do a little of each.
We started the year with a family party that lasted until 6 AM. For most of us. Like me, and the big kids. January also brought snow, and David's third birthday. We had many days off in the first half of the school year and tried to buckle down and get things done in the second half. But I had extreme morning sickness often, so it was hard.
February rolled around, and we were still trying to push through school. We had a a nice visit from Uncle Dave, however I spend some of it in the hospital. More morning sickness. But the rest of the time was movies, games, the Science Center, and Chick Fil A.
March was another long month of morning sickness and school work. My school work, school work with the kids, and observation hours. We started up our homeschool co-op classes again, and the CLP play held auditions and began practices. We did community service, and lots of it! The days were getting much nicer as we prepared to have our Easter cantata and celebrate Easter.
April brought Easter, Honk Jr., a cantata, Remembering Adam show, and more co-op classes. April for us is always a time of performing! Andy had a few shows, too. My morning sickness was easing up and I was headed into a nice spring and beginning of summer without any problems other than being busy and tired.
May started with Honk Jr at CLP, the end of co-op, shows for Andy, and yet another behavior specialist for Faith. We had a huge yard sale and took a trip to the Creation Museum. We also got to catch a movie at Sarah and Anna's outside. School was finishing up for the kids and we were scrambling to complete things before the end of the month.
June was a fun month, and quite busy! Andy had shows, we finished school, and took a few mini vacations. First up, though, was a fun family day at my dad's power plant learning more about what he does and what the plant does to generate power. Contrary to my high school belief, he is not a spy. Or is that what he wants us to think?? We got to see Tony in Cats, we did community service, and we celebrated Father's Day early because Andy and Isaac went to Sandbox Camp. We had our year end evaluations. That was only half the month! After Sandbox Camp we took the kids camping for 11 days! We also got to see a Curve game. During camp my nice trouble free time of pregnancy wrapped up and I was taken by ambulance to the ER with heat exhaustion and the beginnings of my high blood pressure problems.
We came home from camp on July first only to turn around and take the girls back to Pony and Swim Camp. The boys and I had some fun while hey were gone. The week after picking the girls up my blood pressure became enough of a problem that I was on bed rest. for most of the month. Missing birthday parties, VBS, and summer. I did sneak to Spirit Fest, and one day of VBS to ward off the unending, mind numbing boredom of bed rest. And the messy house that I could do nothing about. We spend some time doing school early to keep the kids occupied, and Angel became the head chef of the Raehl household. I had an overnight hospital stay, and we did not get to have a birthday party for Faith.
August brought more hospital trips, and I finally had enough bed rest. We had a birthday party for Faith the first weekend, and on our anniversary we had our sweet Micah! I was finally feeling better, and got an awesome gift, my sweet son! The SC Raehl family came to meet Micah, and I began to dig our house out from under about five weeks of bed rest. We enjoyed the rest of summer with a trip to Lakemont, a family reunion, and began to look towards the new school year.
September came so fast! We celebrated the month's birthdays, including a trip to Slinky for Isaac's birthday. I began the kids school in full force, and my observation hours, too. We had a few field trips, and Andy had several shows. the girls began taking baton lessons. We were still trying to catch up from my bed rest.
October was just as busy with baton, co-op, classes at IUP, choir in preparation for Christmas, and youth group meetings. I had more observation hours, and the countdown to my student teaching is on! Angel had her birthday party and then we went bowling.
November rolled around with more of the same activities, plus Thanksgiving! And of course, Black Friday! Although my crew was thinned a bit this year we had a blast, as usual. Angel really enjoyed her second year, and I still had to call Josh for directions.
December brought snow, Christmas, and the end of this looong year. It is the first time that we have reached our halfway point before Christmas, so we celebrate by taking a long school break to prepare for Christmas. We made tons of cookies, wrapped presents, decorate, and then ended up in the hospital with Angel and a severe stomach virus. But it is the end of the year, we are beginning to feel better, and soon 2013 will bring more surprises, more joy, and more laughter. We are ready, bring it on 2013!!
Monday, December 31, 2012
Friday, December 28, 2012
Top Ten Things I Learned this Christmas
With all the excitement of the holidays, the rush of preparation, and the worry over sickness I have found that there are a few things that I learned this Christmas that I was least expecting...
10. Isaac knows where everything is. Because he takes it. This inlcudes things from my purse, like change, gum, and flashlights.
9. If a kids says that they dropped your purse, take out the compact. It is most likely broken and will cover everything in a fine powder.
8. Preschoolers can survive for days on cookies. And candy. At least it feels like days.
7. When your never really sick child says I need to go to the hospital, go. Immediately.
6. When wrapping presents with a preschooler do it right before giving the gift. That way they don't let slip what you got someone. Repeatedly. Or ask them if they opened the 'whatever' yet.
5. It is a good idea to practice gift giving behavior. For example, one should never say, "Here I got you this bow tie. Merry Christmas".
4. Kids will ALWAYS surprise you in many ways. When you least expect it.
3. Multicultural Christmas celebration unit studies will enable your preschooler to shout out equal holiday festivity messages for the parade, including Happy Hannuak, Happy Kwanza, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Live Long and Prosper.
2. While I can entertain myslef for quite a while with only the things I have in my purse (crayons, pens, small toys, half a deck of cards) there is nothing of actual value in there in case of an emergency (like money, change, a coffee maker, or pizza).
1. When you least expect it God turns the worst situations into miracles. You just have to be looking for it.
10. Isaac knows where everything is. Because he takes it. This inlcudes things from my purse, like change, gum, and flashlights.
9. If a kids says that they dropped your purse, take out the compact. It is most likely broken and will cover everything in a fine powder.
8. Preschoolers can survive for days on cookies. And candy. At least it feels like days.
7. When your never really sick child says I need to go to the hospital, go. Immediately.
6. When wrapping presents with a preschooler do it right before giving the gift. That way they don't let slip what you got someone. Repeatedly. Or ask them if they opened the 'whatever' yet.
5. It is a good idea to practice gift giving behavior. For example, one should never say, "Here I got you this bow tie. Merry Christmas".
4. Kids will ALWAYS surprise you in many ways. When you least expect it.
3. Multicultural Christmas celebration unit studies will enable your preschooler to shout out equal holiday festivity messages for the parade, including Happy Hannuak, Happy Kwanza, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Live Long and Prosper.
2. While I can entertain myslef for quite a while with only the things I have in my purse (crayons, pens, small toys, half a deck of cards) there is nothing of actual value in there in case of an emergency (like money, change, a coffee maker, or pizza).
1. When you least expect it God turns the worst situations into miracles. You just have to be looking for it.
A Christmas to Remember
Every year I do the same thing. I begin planning on how to create the best Christmas ever. Not with gifts or decorations. Not with expensive items or over the top activities. But with family. With friends. With purpose. One that allows us to say, "That was the year we..." with fondness. With joy. With hearts set on giving. On sharing.
We bake and give away cookies. We ring the bell for the Salvation Army. We collect hats and gloves, or coats, or toys. We adopt a family. We make treats for friends. We spend time together. We serve. We laugh. We visit grandparents. Many of those create traditions. Some of those give us those memories. All have made our kids, or us as parents, say that it was memorable.
This year, however, was different. It will not be those same things that we remember. Not the cookies we gave away, the service projects we did, the crafts we made, or the fun we had. It will be in what was given to us, to me, that will tell the story of this Christmas.
We prepared as always. A busy season with parties, cookies, crafts, more parties, and finding ways to serve. We shopped, we caroled, we wrapped, we laughed, we made sure to serve others. We focused on THE gift given, not the gifts we would receive.
Christmas Eve morning Angel looked pretty rough when she woke up, and complained that she was not feeling well. She got sicker as the day wore on, and we decided that we could not risk getting others sick. We decided to stay home from the family parties, meeting with my grandparents later to exchange gifts. She looked worse and worse, and felt the same. She could not keep any food down. Finally she looked at me and said, "I need to go to the hospital." She was having severe pains in her right side, had not kept food down since lunch the day before, and was shaking.
I hurried to get ready, thinking that we would go over and they would give her something to stop the vomiting, maybe IV fluids for a few hours, and we would be home. I was not prepared for CT scans, blood work, and an ambulance ride to a larger hospital to see a surgeon. They thought for most of the night that it was her appendix. Three rounds of blood work, two bags of fluids, and one long night later it was evident that the problem was a severe virus, not her appendix. We were relieved to not have surgery, sad to be in the hospital, and exhausted.
Our Christmas was not ruined, however. Every time someone came into her hospital room for any reason, they gave her a small gift. Many of the gifts kept her distracted. They were donated by local churches. There were coloring books, puzzle books, paint sets, stuffed animals, and some candy. During the few hours of sleep I got Santa visited with a sack of toys. She got a large stuffed bear, a pillow pet, a puzzle, and some craft sets. She hung onto that bear the rest of her stay, squeezing it during blood work. She clutched it when the surgeon came in to give us results. She hugged it when they announced no surgery. We got to play X Box in the hospital. The nurses were all wonderful, bringing us anything they could to help us settle in and trying to give us a bit of Christmas.
At home, Andy struggled with the kids who were scared and sad. Faith did not want to sleep in her room looking at Angel's empty bed. Isaac was afraid for her and offered his room to Faith. David missed his best friend Angel and his Mommy who both read to him at bedtime and tuck him in. Micah missed his Mommy all night like any nursing infant would. Daddy was there to keep everyone together, even when his heart was with us in the hospital. And Santa came. My dear children grabbed their stockings and got ready to head out the door to bring Christmas to Angel. They grabbed her stocking and headed to see us, not a peep about the presents they past to leave the house.
This was my Christmas miracle this year. Strangers seeing our need and meeting it in the form of small gifts. A stuffed animal. A tooth brush. A can of Pepsi. A cup of coffee. A puzzle. The gifts of people who did not even know we were there but wanted anyone stuck in the hospital on Christmas to know love. The children who past by their own presents in a rush to get to their sister, to their mother.
You see, for years we have talked about the meaning of Christmas. We have done projects to serve others. Form soup kitchens to coat drives. From park clean up to community events my children have served. At times they have served instead of participating. They painted faces instead of attending the party. They picked up trash in the park instead of play there. And when it came right down to it, they not only gave of themselves on Christmas, missing their own presents for a while, but they also got to receive the gifts of others. Angel was ministered to in ways that she usually ministers. And they got to see that there are others who serve. Who love. And in days that seem so very dark at times, this is the best kind of light.
We bake and give away cookies. We ring the bell for the Salvation Army. We collect hats and gloves, or coats, or toys. We adopt a family. We make treats for friends. We spend time together. We serve. We laugh. We visit grandparents. Many of those create traditions. Some of those give us those memories. All have made our kids, or us as parents, say that it was memorable.
This year, however, was different. It will not be those same things that we remember. Not the cookies we gave away, the service projects we did, the crafts we made, or the fun we had. It will be in what was given to us, to me, that will tell the story of this Christmas.
We prepared as always. A busy season with parties, cookies, crafts, more parties, and finding ways to serve. We shopped, we caroled, we wrapped, we laughed, we made sure to serve others. We focused on THE gift given, not the gifts we would receive.
Christmas Eve morning Angel looked pretty rough when she woke up, and complained that she was not feeling well. She got sicker as the day wore on, and we decided that we could not risk getting others sick. We decided to stay home from the family parties, meeting with my grandparents later to exchange gifts. She looked worse and worse, and felt the same. She could not keep any food down. Finally she looked at me and said, "I need to go to the hospital." She was having severe pains in her right side, had not kept food down since lunch the day before, and was shaking.
I hurried to get ready, thinking that we would go over and they would give her something to stop the vomiting, maybe IV fluids for a few hours, and we would be home. I was not prepared for CT scans, blood work, and an ambulance ride to a larger hospital to see a surgeon. They thought for most of the night that it was her appendix. Three rounds of blood work, two bags of fluids, and one long night later it was evident that the problem was a severe virus, not her appendix. We were relieved to not have surgery, sad to be in the hospital, and exhausted.
Our Christmas was not ruined, however. Every time someone came into her hospital room for any reason, they gave her a small gift. Many of the gifts kept her distracted. They were donated by local churches. There were coloring books, puzzle books, paint sets, stuffed animals, and some candy. During the few hours of sleep I got Santa visited with a sack of toys. She got a large stuffed bear, a pillow pet, a puzzle, and some craft sets. She hung onto that bear the rest of her stay, squeezing it during blood work. She clutched it when the surgeon came in to give us results. She hugged it when they announced no surgery. We got to play X Box in the hospital. The nurses were all wonderful, bringing us anything they could to help us settle in and trying to give us a bit of Christmas.
At home, Andy struggled with the kids who were scared and sad. Faith did not want to sleep in her room looking at Angel's empty bed. Isaac was afraid for her and offered his room to Faith. David missed his best friend Angel and his Mommy who both read to him at bedtime and tuck him in. Micah missed his Mommy all night like any nursing infant would. Daddy was there to keep everyone together, even when his heart was with us in the hospital. And Santa came. My dear children grabbed their stockings and got ready to head out the door to bring Christmas to Angel. They grabbed her stocking and headed to see us, not a peep about the presents they past to leave the house.
This was my Christmas miracle this year. Strangers seeing our need and meeting it in the form of small gifts. A stuffed animal. A tooth brush. A can of Pepsi. A cup of coffee. A puzzle. The gifts of people who did not even know we were there but wanted anyone stuck in the hospital on Christmas to know love. The children who past by their own presents in a rush to get to their sister, to their mother.
You see, for years we have talked about the meaning of Christmas. We have done projects to serve others. Form soup kitchens to coat drives. From park clean up to community events my children have served. At times they have served instead of participating. They painted faces instead of attending the party. They picked up trash in the park instead of play there. And when it came right down to it, they not only gave of themselves on Christmas, missing their own presents for a while, but they also got to receive the gifts of others. Angel was ministered to in ways that she usually ministers. And they got to see that there are others who serve. Who love. And in days that seem so very dark at times, this is the best kind of light.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Top Ten Tuesday- School Break
There are times that I find it is best to stop home school for a few days, or even weeks. This is for a variety of reasons, and can be a planned or unplanned break. We are on just such a break this week, and next. It was not planned. Here are the top ten reasons to take an unplanned break from school:
10. I knew the kids had clean laundry. They just could not find it in their rooms.
9. During my class I printed the syllabus. I then began to correct typos and grade it.
8. I had to dry off after a shower with a hand towel. Twice.
7. I lost the baby swing. In the living room. Thankfully, I was holding the baby.
6. I thought my head would explode if I had to hear "What? We are supposed to be doing school??" one more time.
5. I lost my checking basket which contains my red pencils and pens, stickers, index cards for daily reports, and my favorite pen. It is somewhere on my desk.
4. We had to have noodles for dinner four days in a row because I did not have time to cook or to go shopping.
3. We ran out of pancake mix.
2. I still have maternity clothing in laundry baskets in my room.
1. I have found myself more stressed and distracted than when I was at fire prevention day at the fire hall and forgot that I had a baby. I walked away from the seat to take a phone call. (Several people were there and watched him). When I came back I got a good deal of teasing about leaving my baby at a safe haven. (And I was only gone for not more than two minutes, and was still in sight of the seat, just distracted.)
10. I knew the kids had clean laundry. They just could not find it in their rooms.
9. During my class I printed the syllabus. I then began to correct typos and grade it.
8. I had to dry off after a shower with a hand towel. Twice.
7. I lost the baby swing. In the living room. Thankfully, I was holding the baby.
6. I thought my head would explode if I had to hear "What? We are supposed to be doing school??" one more time.
5. I lost my checking basket which contains my red pencils and pens, stickers, index cards for daily reports, and my favorite pen. It is somewhere on my desk.
4. We had to have noodles for dinner four days in a row because I did not have time to cook or to go shopping.
3. We ran out of pancake mix.
2. I still have maternity clothing in laundry baskets in my room.
1. I have found myself more stressed and distracted than when I was at fire prevention day at the fire hall and forgot that I had a baby. I walked away from the seat to take a phone call. (Several people were there and watched him). When I came back I got a good deal of teasing about leaving my baby at a safe haven. (And I was only gone for not more than two minutes, and was still in sight of the seat, just distracted.)
Sensory Activities- Surfing
I just found a neat site with loads of fun stuff to do, thanks to Facebook. There was a link to sensory activities, and I am always looking for some good sensory activities for the kids. I found some new ideas, was reminded of some old, and still have not seen our favorite sensory activity of all time. In order to share the awesomeness of that activity, I am going to detail that experience here, but with a word of caution. Many, many people think we are insane, so attempt what we do at your own risk of life, limb, and sanity.
One day, not long after having baby number four, our little David, the kids wanted to go swimming. This was a problem because we live in PA. And it was February. In our last house we had a HUGE bathtub and I would put all the kids, and at times even some cousins, in the tub in swim suits. No huge tub here, sadly. And they would not let up about swimming. Isaac ran to get his suit, and I had an idea. One born of desperation, the haze that comes after a newborn, and the winter blues. I sent the kids to get on swim suits as I scrambled around to get ready.
As they were getting dressed I got beach towels and sunscreen. I found my favorite reggae CD. I got the baby shampoo, and Mr. Dave as we so fondly called our tiny guy. I had the kids cover themselves with sunscreen while I swept the kitchen floor and blasted the music to set the stage. We, well, actually they, were going surfing. I moved everything out of the kitchen and had the kids stand on the towels on the floor.
I squirted a whole bunch of baby shampoo on the floor and climbed up on the counter, perching myself by the sink. I used the sprayer from the sink to squirt the kids and floor. They were covered with water and bubbles and started slipping and sliding all over the place on their "surf boards". I sat on the counter all criss cross applesauce nursing a newborn, hosing my kids every time they stopped being slippy until almost time for Andy to get home.
We made quite a mess. And had so much fun.
I carefully climbed down, got some dry towels to mop up any leftover water and tossed the kids in the shower with their swimsuits still on. As they rinsed off I put David down for a nap and put the towels in the wash.
By the time Andy came home I had a clean kitchen floor, a napping baby, three squeaky clean, happy, snacking kids, and some freshly laundered towels still warm from the dryer. It was an epic win for the day.
We have never done it again, and Isaac does not remember it. David, while there, did not get to participate. Perhaps we will have a repeat of that day, the one the girls call 'the day we knew Mommy had really lost her mind'. My floor has not been cleaned in quite a while...
One day, not long after having baby number four, our little David, the kids wanted to go swimming. This was a problem because we live in PA. And it was February. In our last house we had a HUGE bathtub and I would put all the kids, and at times even some cousins, in the tub in swim suits. No huge tub here, sadly. And they would not let up about swimming. Isaac ran to get his suit, and I had an idea. One born of desperation, the haze that comes after a newborn, and the winter blues. I sent the kids to get on swim suits as I scrambled around to get ready.
As they were getting dressed I got beach towels and sunscreen. I found my favorite reggae CD. I got the baby shampoo, and Mr. Dave as we so fondly called our tiny guy. I had the kids cover themselves with sunscreen while I swept the kitchen floor and blasted the music to set the stage. We, well, actually they, were going surfing. I moved everything out of the kitchen and had the kids stand on the towels on the floor.
I squirted a whole bunch of baby shampoo on the floor and climbed up on the counter, perching myself by the sink. I used the sprayer from the sink to squirt the kids and floor. They were covered with water and bubbles and started slipping and sliding all over the place on their "surf boards". I sat on the counter all criss cross applesauce nursing a newborn, hosing my kids every time they stopped being slippy until almost time for Andy to get home.
We made quite a mess. And had so much fun.
I carefully climbed down, got some dry towels to mop up any leftover water and tossed the kids in the shower with their swimsuits still on. As they rinsed off I put David down for a nap and put the towels in the wash.
By the time Andy came home I had a clean kitchen floor, a napping baby, three squeaky clean, happy, snacking kids, and some freshly laundered towels still warm from the dryer. It was an epic win for the day.
We have never done it again, and Isaac does not remember it. David, while there, did not get to participate. Perhaps we will have a repeat of that day, the one the girls call 'the day we knew Mommy had really lost her mind'. My floor has not been cleaned in quite a while...
Friday, September 14, 2012
When I grow up...
Someone posted on Facebook asking what children want to be when they grow up.
When Angel was little, she wanted to be a mermaid, an artist, and then the president. Now, she wants to be a fashion designer. Or maybe a teacher. But definitely a mother.
Faith usually answers with somethings about animals or creating something. Today she said a robot builder. Last week it was a vet.
Isaac wanted to be a ninja, a chef, a police officer, a super hero, one each day of the week, and take off Fridays for a long weekend. He still wants to be a police officer. Who uses ninja skills.
David wants to be a magic man who dances, sings, does magic, and fights fires. And he wants to drive a red motorcycle. And sometimes play golf.
Me, when I grow up, I want to be, well, I don't really know.
I used to know.
On the first day of preschool, and everyday of my childhood, I wanted to be a teacher.
I also wanted to be in charge. It did not matter what I was in charge of, just as long as I was the decision maker.
I want to homeschool, but I also want my own preschool. I love preschool. I am going to school for education, homeschooling my children, basically teaching all the time.
I am not sure I want the responsibility of being in charge. Of anything. Sometimes I am not sure who decided I could be a grown up, let alone put me in charge of anything. But I still like being bossy. ;)
I also want to be debt free. Yet my students loans alone mean I will have to wait for that. Not to mention Andy's, and our house.
I want to be that older woman that younger women look to for advice. I just am not sure I want to earn that wisdom through trials and experience.
I want to be that married couple that has made 50 years and still holds hands. Since we were married young, that could happen. Only 36 years to go...
I want to be peaceful, some one whose life and circumstances reflect the love of God and the peace one can have in knowing Him.
I suppose I still have a lot of growing up to do...
When Angel was little, she wanted to be a mermaid, an artist, and then the president. Now, she wants to be a fashion designer. Or maybe a teacher. But definitely a mother.
Faith usually answers with somethings about animals or creating something. Today she said a robot builder. Last week it was a vet.
Isaac wanted to be a ninja, a chef, a police officer, a super hero, one each day of the week, and take off Fridays for a long weekend. He still wants to be a police officer. Who uses ninja skills.
David wants to be a magic man who dances, sings, does magic, and fights fires. And he wants to drive a red motorcycle. And sometimes play golf.
Me, when I grow up, I want to be, well, I don't really know.
I used to know.
On the first day of preschool, and everyday of my childhood, I wanted to be a teacher.
I also wanted to be in charge. It did not matter what I was in charge of, just as long as I was the decision maker.
I want to homeschool, but I also want my own preschool. I love preschool. I am going to school for education, homeschooling my children, basically teaching all the time.
I am not sure I want the responsibility of being in charge. Of anything. Sometimes I am not sure who decided I could be a grown up, let alone put me in charge of anything. But I still like being bossy. ;)
I also want to be debt free. Yet my students loans alone mean I will have to wait for that. Not to mention Andy's, and our house.
I want to be that older woman that younger women look to for advice. I just am not sure I want to earn that wisdom through trials and experience.
I want to be that married couple that has made 50 years and still holds hands. Since we were married young, that could happen. Only 36 years to go...
I want to be peaceful, some one whose life and circumstances reflect the love of God and the peace one can have in knowing Him.
I suppose I still have a lot of growing up to do...
Friday, August 24, 2012
Noise Alert
In a household with children one can expect a certain amount of noise. Playing, fighting, laughing, crying, banging, crashing, clomping, squealing... In a household with children with Asperger's there are more noises at times, the constant noises or repeated words and phrases. A new babies bring their own kinds of noises- crying, cooing, the swing rocking, musical toys. All of these noises combined together create the symphony of our home, the beat we live by. And usually that is a great thing. Usually.
For some reason our summer is fizzling out, dying a slow painful death. The kids are bickering, dropping trash everywhere, fighting, not wanting to play outside, and screaming. One, or both, of our toliets overflow everyday. And the screetching by the one, or at times two, preschoolers has reached a new level of loud. This wakes up the baby, who cries. And then is over tired and cannot fall back asleep. Who keeps Mommy awake. All night long. And the preschooler is up bright and early. So Mommy gets no sleep. And has a headache. And is very irritated by the noise, good or bad, but mostly bad in the past two days.
The fun level is crashing quickly, the frustration levels are rising just as fast. And school is supposed to start on Monday for them, Tuesday for me. Usually at this point I am excited, energized, and so are the kids. We have crates full of new supplies, new materials, fun activities, and field trips planned. I am not organized, but that is nothing new. The house is cleanish, and the laundry is caught up. I even have food in the crock pot for supper.
The problem is the noise. Not the household noise, but the life noise that is blocking out my peace of heart and mind. My quiet time spent in reflection, digging into the Bible, and covering our home in prayer. It is the noise that fills my head, not the noise filling my house. The noise that is blocking my attitude of praise and thanksgiving, keeping me off balance and unfocused. My heart attitude sets the tone for my whole family. If I am frustrated, they are fighting. If I am joyful, we have laughter. I know this is a fact. I can see it in our lives.
As we begin a new school year, a new journey, with so many joys, I have to set aside the past school year with its problems and trials, all the frustration. I have to set aside myself, my lack of motivation, and my tiredness. I need instead to create a new attitude in my home, one of peace and joy, love and laughter.
Having so many things going on, that is difficult. New baby, new school year, new classes for me, those are all overwhelming when tacked alone, let alone all at once. So as we begin this new part of our journey, we will have a new commitment. A commitment of loving each other, of loving God, and of service to Him. And that new journey does not have to wait until we crack open our math book for the first time, it starts now. With a family prayer, a new Scripture to memorize, and planning our day to include quiet time and time to play and grow together. Please join me in praying for our family, our school year, and that I get some extra rest this weekend.
For some reason our summer is fizzling out, dying a slow painful death. The kids are bickering, dropping trash everywhere, fighting, not wanting to play outside, and screaming. One, or both, of our toliets overflow everyday. And the screetching by the one, or at times two, preschoolers has reached a new level of loud. This wakes up the baby, who cries. And then is over tired and cannot fall back asleep. Who keeps Mommy awake. All night long. And the preschooler is up bright and early. So Mommy gets no sleep. And has a headache. And is very irritated by the noise, good or bad, but mostly bad in the past two days.
The fun level is crashing quickly, the frustration levels are rising just as fast. And school is supposed to start on Monday for them, Tuesday for me. Usually at this point I am excited, energized, and so are the kids. We have crates full of new supplies, new materials, fun activities, and field trips planned. I am not organized, but that is nothing new. The house is cleanish, and the laundry is caught up. I even have food in the crock pot for supper.
The problem is the noise. Not the household noise, but the life noise that is blocking out my peace of heart and mind. My quiet time spent in reflection, digging into the Bible, and covering our home in prayer. It is the noise that fills my head, not the noise filling my house. The noise that is blocking my attitude of praise and thanksgiving, keeping me off balance and unfocused. My heart attitude sets the tone for my whole family. If I am frustrated, they are fighting. If I am joyful, we have laughter. I know this is a fact. I can see it in our lives.
As we begin a new school year, a new journey, with so many joys, I have to set aside the past school year with its problems and trials, all the frustration. I have to set aside myself, my lack of motivation, and my tiredness. I need instead to create a new attitude in my home, one of peace and joy, love and laughter.
Having so many things going on, that is difficult. New baby, new school year, new classes for me, those are all overwhelming when tacked alone, let alone all at once. So as we begin this new part of our journey, we will have a new commitment. A commitment of loving each other, of loving God, and of service to Him. And that new journey does not have to wait until we crack open our math book for the first time, it starts now. With a family prayer, a new Scripture to memorize, and planning our day to include quiet time and time to play and grow together. Please join me in praying for our family, our school year, and that I get some extra rest this weekend.
Friday, August 3, 2012
The Evolution of Bed Rest
I have been on bed rest since sometime in the middle of July. This is pretty much how it has been going...
Week One:
I am so glad to not be in the hospital anymore! That was horrible. I am much more comfortable here. I am so glad to know that our little one is not going to have to come too early, even if that means I am to be on bed rest for now. Let's pray we make it to our due date so he is big enough and developed enough. Angel is doing a great job cooking and cleaning.
Week Two:
I am happy that Micah is still growing, we got to have an ultrasound and he is head down and super cute! I am not liking this medicine, it is making me shake so much that I can not even walk to the bathroom. The trips to the doctor are getting to be a bit much, but it is all for the best. Angel has been making the best pancakes.
Week Three:
Off that medicine, no longer feel like death! Maybe I can attend VBS even if I can't direct it. I am getting so much school work done, and stuff with the kids for school. The house is a wreck and we have no clean clothes. We have been eating sandwiches and cereal until Andy gets home. But at least Micah is doing fine and still growing.
Week Four:
I am getting pretty tired of this new medicine. I am now not shaking, it is a constant headache that never lets up. We have been to the hospital for tests so much that I am recognized by most of the staff. the kids have been watching a lot of TV, so at least they are entertained. I am pretty sure the boys have not had a bath in about a week, and there is now no clean clothing. And at least one day this week they ate popcorn for lunch, but Angel did make pancakes for breakfast. We are out of ice cream. Again. At least they like fruit. Will this little one ever get here??
Week Five:
(This has not happened yet, but we are starting week five soon. I am pretty sure this is how it is going to go down...)
I can not take one more episode of a Disney show for the fifteenth time. Even Doctor Who has become irritating. I know, right? We have been existing on pop tarts and popcorn. The boys still have not had a bath. We have no clean clothing, as you can see by the multitude of pictures of David in his undies. The same undies. I can not find the living room floor. There are no clean towels for any of us to shower. Not eating real food cuts down on the amount of dirty dishes, and letting them go naked cuts down on the dirty laundry. Does anyone have any ice cream? Or chocolate? Or both? If they don't do something so I have this baby soon, I am going to die.
Week One:
I am so glad to not be in the hospital anymore! That was horrible. I am much more comfortable here. I am so glad to know that our little one is not going to have to come too early, even if that means I am to be on bed rest for now. Let's pray we make it to our due date so he is big enough and developed enough. Angel is doing a great job cooking and cleaning.
Week Two:
I am happy that Micah is still growing, we got to have an ultrasound and he is head down and super cute! I am not liking this medicine, it is making me shake so much that I can not even walk to the bathroom. The trips to the doctor are getting to be a bit much, but it is all for the best. Angel has been making the best pancakes.
Week Three:
Off that medicine, no longer feel like death! Maybe I can attend VBS even if I can't direct it. I am getting so much school work done, and stuff with the kids for school. The house is a wreck and we have no clean clothes. We have been eating sandwiches and cereal until Andy gets home. But at least Micah is doing fine and still growing.
Week Four:
I am getting pretty tired of this new medicine. I am now not shaking, it is a constant headache that never lets up. We have been to the hospital for tests so much that I am recognized by most of the staff. the kids have been watching a lot of TV, so at least they are entertained. I am pretty sure the boys have not had a bath in about a week, and there is now no clean clothing. And at least one day this week they ate popcorn for lunch, but Angel did make pancakes for breakfast. We are out of ice cream. Again. At least they like fruit. Will this little one ever get here??
Week Five:
(This has not happened yet, but we are starting week five soon. I am pretty sure this is how it is going to go down...)
I can not take one more episode of a Disney show for the fifteenth time. Even Doctor Who has become irritating. I know, right? We have been existing on pop tarts and popcorn. The boys still have not had a bath. We have no clean clothing, as you can see by the multitude of pictures of David in his undies. The same undies. I can not find the living room floor. There are no clean towels for any of us to shower. Not eating real food cuts down on the amount of dirty dishes, and letting them go naked cuts down on the dirty laundry. Does anyone have any ice cream? Or chocolate? Or both? If they don't do something so I have this baby soon, I am going to die.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Hugs, not Drugs!
Most of my past weekend was a blur. Not the "I-just-had-so-much-fun" kind, but the kind that happens after a hazy, sick in bed weekend of pain. As the fog is slowly lifting, and as I talk to my family, I realize not only how lucky I am, and how blessed that both Micah and I are doing fine, but I also realize why I am a no meds person.
I never take medicine. I do not like that fuzzy head feeling, the common side effects, or the fact that I am not a normal side effects kind of person. I am the kind of person that has rare, startling, or bizarre side effects of medicine. I use more natural remedies because of this. Upset tummy? Fresh mint tea. Headache? Peppermint essential oil. Toothache? Clove oil. I use a Neti Pot for my sinuses, and have been so stuffy that I have tried inhaling crushed red pepper. Once.
For this pregnancy I have had to take my vitamins, which I am OK with. Plus calcium and baby aspirin to help control blood pressure. And B6 for my morning sickness. And then medicine for my thyroid. I seriously could not keep it all straight! After my hospital adventure last week I added high blood pressure medicine. Enter the bizarre side effects. The not your average side effects. Dizziness, weakness, fatigue, leg cramps, etc. Then began the chest pain and my second, and then third adventure to the ER. In the same weekend. In order to determine if my chest pain was caused by the pulled muscle, instead of having a CT scan while pregnant, I was given a pain pill. If my muscle relaxed, I would have no pain and be able to catch my breath.
About 30 minutes after taking the pill I was breathing normally. My dad, relieved that I was going to be fine and knowing I was going to be released soon, left the hospital. What transpired over the next couple of hours are only hazy memories and the laughing reflections of my husband. Not long after my dad left the hospital I began crying because he is such a nice man. When I was released, I insisted that I needed a hamburger. Made at Sheetz. By my brother Josh. Who, coincidentally does make delicious hamburgers, but not at Sheetz, seeing as how he does not in fact work there. I was still set on Sheetz, so I insisted that we stop, at which point I could not order my food because the touch screen was confusing me, got a quesadilla, and was confused as to why they were not charging for my cup of ice. Which made me cry a little bit. I did not know how to pay no money.
On the way home I ate and was sad because my food was not as good as Josh makes. I wanted Tony to meet me at the restaurant he works at, now close to midnight, to make me a hamburger. Then I decided to just stop at Wal Mart to get Josh a quesadilla maker. And, because I can not get Josh such a lovely present without getting one for Tony too, I was planning on finding him a tiny Eskimo. A tiny Eskimo that makes ice cream. Complete with the fur coat. I could picture it in my mind.
Needless to say, Andy was driving. We did not stop at Wal Mart. I fell asleep on the way home. I have no recollection of getting from the van to my bed. I do have a bruise from teh adventure, on my ankle. I woke up well rested, even with the return of the chest pain, and a lingering feeling that I needed to find an Eskimo. Or at the very least have some ice cream.
I never take medicine. I do not like that fuzzy head feeling, the common side effects, or the fact that I am not a normal side effects kind of person. I am the kind of person that has rare, startling, or bizarre side effects of medicine. I use more natural remedies because of this. Upset tummy? Fresh mint tea. Headache? Peppermint essential oil. Toothache? Clove oil. I use a Neti Pot for my sinuses, and have been so stuffy that I have tried inhaling crushed red pepper. Once.
For this pregnancy I have had to take my vitamins, which I am OK with. Plus calcium and baby aspirin to help control blood pressure. And B6 for my morning sickness. And then medicine for my thyroid. I seriously could not keep it all straight! After my hospital adventure last week I added high blood pressure medicine. Enter the bizarre side effects. The not your average side effects. Dizziness, weakness, fatigue, leg cramps, etc. Then began the chest pain and my second, and then third adventure to the ER. In the same weekend. In order to determine if my chest pain was caused by the pulled muscle, instead of having a CT scan while pregnant, I was given a pain pill. If my muscle relaxed, I would have no pain and be able to catch my breath.
About 30 minutes after taking the pill I was breathing normally. My dad, relieved that I was going to be fine and knowing I was going to be released soon, left the hospital. What transpired over the next couple of hours are only hazy memories and the laughing reflections of my husband. Not long after my dad left the hospital I began crying because he is such a nice man. When I was released, I insisted that I needed a hamburger. Made at Sheetz. By my brother Josh. Who, coincidentally does make delicious hamburgers, but not at Sheetz, seeing as how he does not in fact work there. I was still set on Sheetz, so I insisted that we stop, at which point I could not order my food because the touch screen was confusing me, got a quesadilla, and was confused as to why they were not charging for my cup of ice. Which made me cry a little bit. I did not know how to pay no money.
On the way home I ate and was sad because my food was not as good as Josh makes. I wanted Tony to meet me at the restaurant he works at, now close to midnight, to make me a hamburger. Then I decided to just stop at Wal Mart to get Josh a quesadilla maker. And, because I can not get Josh such a lovely present without getting one for Tony too, I was planning on finding him a tiny Eskimo. A tiny Eskimo that makes ice cream. Complete with the fur coat. I could picture it in my mind.
Needless to say, Andy was driving. We did not stop at Wal Mart. I fell asleep on the way home. I have no recollection of getting from the van to my bed. I do have a bruise from teh adventure, on my ankle. I woke up well rested, even with the return of the chest pain, and a lingering feeling that I needed to find an Eskimo. Or at the very least have some ice cream.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
One Thursday Morning
There is not really any pregnancy that has no problems, no uncomfortable days. I know at the beginning of this pregnancy I was super sick. That happens. I had to take the super long glucose test, which turned out exceptional. And there was that day I had heat exhaustion at camp. Pregnant in a heat wave, it happens. So I consider that a relatively normal pregnancy. I had been feeling great, Micah is moving and squirming around, growing like he is supposed to be doing. Nesting set in and I was on a cleaning streak.
On Thursday morning I woke up not feeling quite right. I figured I would switch from mad cleaning to a full day of doing my school work, and maybe treat the kids to a walk for some candy if they let me work in peace. It was not uncomfortably hot, so when I barely made it to the bathroom with super amounts of swelling I was surprised. By the time I got to the kitchen I could not make a fist because my hands were so swollen, and my toes were not. Odd, but so is pregnancy.
I did school for a while, still not feeling well. I decided to lay down on my left side as so commonly told to do in pregnancy. When my mom stopped over my whole face was swollen. I took the kids to Giant Eagle for their snack, and checked my blood pressure. I was high,but the machine was not working correctly so I was not sure. By the time Andy came home my eyes were almost swollen shut.
We headed to our chiropractor appointment, figuring I would check my blood pressure at Walmart and sit on the bench while Andy got groceries for supper. My first reading was cause for concern, and the readings kept creeping up over the time I spent waiting and checking. When it read 170/99 I knew I had to be seen. We stopped to grab food at the closest drive through. By the time we hit Johnstown I was pretty out of it. My head was hurting very bad, I could see thumping spots, and was super sick to my stomach. I was not entirely convinced I would be ok, but we had the kids with us so I did not say too much.
Andy had to drop me off at the ER and go park. I was taken straight up to Labor and Delivery. Andy sat in the waiting room with the kids, keeping in touch by text, until I saw the doctor. I was feeling worse by the minute. The doctor came in, looked at me, and called for a nurse to start the IV. I told Andy, who came in to get a list of what I would need for short stay. As soon as he left to drop of the kids and grab my stuff it got interesting.
The IV nurse came in to do initial blood work and the second the needle hit my arm I been convulsing. She hit an alarm, and nurses came running. The doctor came in. I heard them talking, got a shot, and then was told I had taken a seizure because my blood pressure spiked to 190/110. I was put on a magnesium drip, which made me hot, itchy, and sick. Several times I had to get shots for vomiting, they did blood work every few hours.
After about an hour, the doctor ordered shots to help boost the baby's lungs. If I was not doing better soon they wanted to induce at 33 weeks. I began to cry. Throughout the night my blood pressure was taken every 15 minutes, spiking quite high and then dropping dangerously low. At one point I was told it dropped as low as 88/50, at which point I had another seizure. Then more meds.
I was taken off the magnesium drip after 12 hours. It felt like 12 days. They were running constant blood work, and urinalysis for 24 hours. After coming off the IV I could not walk. I could not stand without shaking. For the first time in my life I was on my knees sobbing for help and had to hit the alarm to call for the nurse.
After a long 24 hours, the tests came back borderline. I was not diagnosed with pre-eclampsia, but with sudden onset pregnancy induced high blood pressure. I was sent home feeling only slightly better than when I arrived. I cried the whole way home. I was terrified to leave the nurses and the consoling fact that if something happened they knew right away. It is about a 45 minute drive, an eternity in an emergency. And yet I so badly wanted to hold my kids. By the time I got to my mothers to pick them up I could hardly move. A splitting headache, swelling beginning, and sick to my stomach. I was ready to go right back to the ER when I could not walk myself to the van. Andy and my Dad had to get me there, after I had to ask for help for the second time that day.
I crawled up to my room. Bed rest until Monday. We have an ultrasound to check the little man's size, and my check up to know what is going on with my blood pressure. It needs to be regulated through my medicine or they will have no choice but to induce early. If today is any indicator, so far the medicine is not working. I can not stand up at all without my blood pressure spiking high enough to effect my ability to walk. Trips to the bathroom are quite an ordeal. There are side effects to both the magnesium and the new medicine I have to take, so hopefully in a few days this will even out.
Please be in prayer for us. As much as I want to meet my little guy, I need him to be safe more. He needs more time, and I need to be okay enough to give it to him. I also need to keep trucking on the cleaning up, my school work, and the fun of preparing for meeting Mr. Micah.
On Thursday morning I woke up not feeling quite right. I figured I would switch from mad cleaning to a full day of doing my school work, and maybe treat the kids to a walk for some candy if they let me work in peace. It was not uncomfortably hot, so when I barely made it to the bathroom with super amounts of swelling I was surprised. By the time I got to the kitchen I could not make a fist because my hands were so swollen, and my toes were not. Odd, but so is pregnancy.
I did school for a while, still not feeling well. I decided to lay down on my left side as so commonly told to do in pregnancy. When my mom stopped over my whole face was swollen. I took the kids to Giant Eagle for their snack, and checked my blood pressure. I was high,but the machine was not working correctly so I was not sure. By the time Andy came home my eyes were almost swollen shut.
We headed to our chiropractor appointment, figuring I would check my blood pressure at Walmart and sit on the bench while Andy got groceries for supper. My first reading was cause for concern, and the readings kept creeping up over the time I spent waiting and checking. When it read 170/99 I knew I had to be seen. We stopped to grab food at the closest drive through. By the time we hit Johnstown I was pretty out of it. My head was hurting very bad, I could see thumping spots, and was super sick to my stomach. I was not entirely convinced I would be ok, but we had the kids with us so I did not say too much.
Andy had to drop me off at the ER and go park. I was taken straight up to Labor and Delivery. Andy sat in the waiting room with the kids, keeping in touch by text, until I saw the doctor. I was feeling worse by the minute. The doctor came in, looked at me, and called for a nurse to start the IV. I told Andy, who came in to get a list of what I would need for short stay. As soon as he left to drop of the kids and grab my stuff it got interesting.
The IV nurse came in to do initial blood work and the second the needle hit my arm I been convulsing. She hit an alarm, and nurses came running. The doctor came in. I heard them talking, got a shot, and then was told I had taken a seizure because my blood pressure spiked to 190/110. I was put on a magnesium drip, which made me hot, itchy, and sick. Several times I had to get shots for vomiting, they did blood work every few hours.
After about an hour, the doctor ordered shots to help boost the baby's lungs. If I was not doing better soon they wanted to induce at 33 weeks. I began to cry. Throughout the night my blood pressure was taken every 15 minutes, spiking quite high and then dropping dangerously low. At one point I was told it dropped as low as 88/50, at which point I had another seizure. Then more meds.
I was taken off the magnesium drip after 12 hours. It felt like 12 days. They were running constant blood work, and urinalysis for 24 hours. After coming off the IV I could not walk. I could not stand without shaking. For the first time in my life I was on my knees sobbing for help and had to hit the alarm to call for the nurse.
After a long 24 hours, the tests came back borderline. I was not diagnosed with pre-eclampsia, but with sudden onset pregnancy induced high blood pressure. I was sent home feeling only slightly better than when I arrived. I cried the whole way home. I was terrified to leave the nurses and the consoling fact that if something happened they knew right away. It is about a 45 minute drive, an eternity in an emergency. And yet I so badly wanted to hold my kids. By the time I got to my mothers to pick them up I could hardly move. A splitting headache, swelling beginning, and sick to my stomach. I was ready to go right back to the ER when I could not walk myself to the van. Andy and my Dad had to get me there, after I had to ask for help for the second time that day.
I crawled up to my room. Bed rest until Monday. We have an ultrasound to check the little man's size, and my check up to know what is going on with my blood pressure. It needs to be regulated through my medicine or they will have no choice but to induce early. If today is any indicator, so far the medicine is not working. I can not stand up at all without my blood pressure spiking high enough to effect my ability to walk. Trips to the bathroom are quite an ordeal. There are side effects to both the magnesium and the new medicine I have to take, so hopefully in a few days this will even out.
Please be in prayer for us. As much as I want to meet my little guy, I need him to be safe more. He needs more time, and I need to be okay enough to give it to him. I also need to keep trucking on the cleaning up, my school work, and the fun of preparing for meeting Mr. Micah.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Nesting; Not Just for the Birds
I walked into our bathroom today, for the millionth time, and decided that I simply could not leave until it was clean. I scrubbed the shower, the sink, the toilet, rearranged the shelves, wiped the mirror, cleaned the window, and took the curtians to the wash. I swept and scrubbed the floor.
As I was busy, Isaac and Faith kept sneaking up on me. I think they wanted to ask me something. They just stared. A few minutes later, David pops in. He asked why I am cleaning the bathroom, thinking that I must have thrown up, and this should tell you how often I scrub down our rooms.
Soon Angel peeks in, and checks back with the other kids. The conversation has me cracking up as I am scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees because that is the only way I was convinced it was clean.
Angel walks back to the living room and this is basically what she said:
"I do not think she is sick guys. Remember yesterday when she had us put away all the laundry and explained that sometimes pregnant women need to clean? I am pretty sure that is what is happening. You see, I have seen her pregnant many times before, and everytime it is different. It can be scary, but if she is doing something you have a few choices. Offer to help, but only if you mean it. Stay far away until she calls for you then hurry it up to get there. Bring her water and tell her you love her. Never drink the last Pepsi or eat the last chocolate. And remember, it is almost August."
So apparently the nesting bug has hit me hard, and for the first time. I went for me daily after lunch ice cream and cleaned out the freezer. I was going to make coffee, but never got around to it because I simply had to do the dishes first. I could not stop at washing the bathroom curtians, I had to fill the load so I put in the living room and den curtians as well. Which meant that I am now taking a short break from cleaning those rooms as the kids play checkers. Before I scare them too badly I better send them outside to splash in the yard. And I have to hang in there, after all, it is almost August.
As I was busy, Isaac and Faith kept sneaking up on me. I think they wanted to ask me something. They just stared. A few minutes later, David pops in. He asked why I am cleaning the bathroom, thinking that I must have thrown up, and this should tell you how often I scrub down our rooms.
Soon Angel peeks in, and checks back with the other kids. The conversation has me cracking up as I am scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees because that is the only way I was convinced it was clean.
Angel walks back to the living room and this is basically what she said:
"I do not think she is sick guys. Remember yesterday when she had us put away all the laundry and explained that sometimes pregnant women need to clean? I am pretty sure that is what is happening. You see, I have seen her pregnant many times before, and everytime it is different. It can be scary, but if she is doing something you have a few choices. Offer to help, but only if you mean it. Stay far away until she calls for you then hurry it up to get there. Bring her water and tell her you love her. Never drink the last Pepsi or eat the last chocolate. And remember, it is almost August."
So apparently the nesting bug has hit me hard, and for the first time. I went for me daily after lunch ice cream and cleaned out the freezer. I was going to make coffee, but never got around to it because I simply had to do the dishes first. I could not stop at washing the bathroom curtians, I had to fill the load so I put in the living room and den curtians as well. Which meant that I am now taking a short break from cleaning those rooms as the kids play checkers. Before I scare them too badly I better send them outside to splash in the yard. And I have to hang in there, after all, it is almost August.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Defcon 5
The girls have been at camp since Sunday. I am swimming in a sea of testosterone, surrounded by my boys, my husband, and even carrying a son. It is interesting around here. I grew up with no sisters and four brothers, so I should be used to this, but it is not something that females are supposed to get used to, I think. It is why we tend to travel in packs, for our own protection.
Usually when I have something to gt done my girls bustle around, seeming to instinctively know what I mean when I say something stupid like put your laundry in the trash. They assume that I mean toss the dryer sheet and put away your clothes, and they do. My sons, however, follow my directions exactly. So I find myself repeating what I thought I already said. A whole bunch.
If we are doing laundry my girls know that switch the laundry is a multi-step process that involves opening the dryer, removing laundry and placing it into a basket, opening the washer, moving clothing from the washer to the dryer, tossing in a dryer sheet, closing the dryer door and hitting the start button. They then at times go a step further and add more dirty laundry to the washer, with laundry detergent, and turn it on. After this, they carry up the clean. Now, the girls are older, but have been doing this for years. The boys idea of switching laundry involves moving piles of clothing around so it looks like less dirty laundry, riding dirty laundry down the steps, and playing in the formally full baskets.
Today, I declared laundry day. We have a mountain of dirty towels, as always, plus tons of blankets, sleeping bags, and quilts from camp. Not that in these hot days and nights we will be needing them, but I would like them cleaned and put away to make room for the landfill that is going to arrive when the girls get home from a week at camp.
I have already done several loads today, and reached the point of washing the sleeping bags. This is where it gets interesting. We do not allow the boys to use any heavy machinery, power tools, or even anything more dangerous than a butter knife without supervision. I do not have them run the washer or dryer, mostly not because they do not know how, but because I can not be sure what they put in, laundry, toys, plastics, crayons, the cat, each other...
As I was, umm, indisposed, the washer began the spin cycle. With a heavy sleeping bag inside. It was off balance. David started screaming. Isaac declared that we reached Def con 5 because the whole house was going to shake apart. He was running around making siren noises and trying to evacuate the house. From the bathroom I am yelling at them to calm down, which never helps, I know, but it was all I could do at the time. They ran to the washing machine. I ran out of the bathroom as only an 8 month pregnant woman with a broken toe and sprained ankle can. (That is a different story altogether, and not as exciting.) They were already running back up the steps after "fixing" the problem. They opened the washer, saw that the clothes were still in water, thankfully, because they normally would not have stopped to notice such a small detail, so they figured that the load was not done. They added much more laundry detergent, and restarted the cycle. Which is better than flopping the already heavy, now dripping wet sleeping bag on the floor.
So in about 40 minutes, I am sure that we will reach Def con 5. Again. This time I plan on intercepting before the sleeping bag disintegrates from an overload of laundry detergent and too much time in the washer. I may have to go sit in front of the washer in about 35 minutes to head them off. Or we will have pre-lunch ice cream to distract them. I vote ice cream. And then, maybe a nap.
Usually when I have something to gt done my girls bustle around, seeming to instinctively know what I mean when I say something stupid like put your laundry in the trash. They assume that I mean toss the dryer sheet and put away your clothes, and they do. My sons, however, follow my directions exactly. So I find myself repeating what I thought I already said. A whole bunch.
If we are doing laundry my girls know that switch the laundry is a multi-step process that involves opening the dryer, removing laundry and placing it into a basket, opening the washer, moving clothing from the washer to the dryer, tossing in a dryer sheet, closing the dryer door and hitting the start button. They then at times go a step further and add more dirty laundry to the washer, with laundry detergent, and turn it on. After this, they carry up the clean. Now, the girls are older, but have been doing this for years. The boys idea of switching laundry involves moving piles of clothing around so it looks like less dirty laundry, riding dirty laundry down the steps, and playing in the formally full baskets.
Today, I declared laundry day. We have a mountain of dirty towels, as always, plus tons of blankets, sleeping bags, and quilts from camp. Not that in these hot days and nights we will be needing them, but I would like them cleaned and put away to make room for the landfill that is going to arrive when the girls get home from a week at camp.
I have already done several loads today, and reached the point of washing the sleeping bags. This is where it gets interesting. We do not allow the boys to use any heavy machinery, power tools, or even anything more dangerous than a butter knife without supervision. I do not have them run the washer or dryer, mostly not because they do not know how, but because I can not be sure what they put in, laundry, toys, plastics, crayons, the cat, each other...
As I was, umm, indisposed, the washer began the spin cycle. With a heavy sleeping bag inside. It was off balance. David started screaming. Isaac declared that we reached Def con 5 because the whole house was going to shake apart. He was running around making siren noises and trying to evacuate the house. From the bathroom I am yelling at them to calm down, which never helps, I know, but it was all I could do at the time. They ran to the washing machine. I ran out of the bathroom as only an 8 month pregnant woman with a broken toe and sprained ankle can. (That is a different story altogether, and not as exciting.) They were already running back up the steps after "fixing" the problem. They opened the washer, saw that the clothes were still in water, thankfully, because they normally would not have stopped to notice such a small detail, so they figured that the load was not done. They added much more laundry detergent, and restarted the cycle. Which is better than flopping the already heavy, now dripping wet sleeping bag on the floor.
So in about 40 minutes, I am sure that we will reach Def con 5. Again. This time I plan on intercepting before the sleeping bag disintegrates from an overload of laundry detergent and too much time in the washer. I may have to go sit in front of the washer in about 35 minutes to head them off. Or we will have pre-lunch ice cream to distract them. I vote ice cream. And then, maybe a nap.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Things I Learned This Year at Camp
1. Two three year olds is a lot of three year olds.
2. At 8 months pregnant, every thing is twice as hard as it should be. At camp everything is twice as hard as it should be. That means that 8 months pregnant at camp is ten times harder than it should be. Just trust me on the math.
3. Eleven days is a long time to go camping. A V-E-R-Y long time to go camping.
4. A pregnant woman can drink 5 to 6 bottles of water and still be dehydrated in 95 degree heat. And our family really can not go camping without a trip to the ER.
5. A little dirt does not hurt.
6. Five kids at camp will all want to do something at the same time. About eight different somethings.
7. Ice cream is expensive, yet a good moisturizer.
8. One should never take five kids camping for finals week.
9. Chopping wood is not a pregnant woman activity. Or carrying wood. Or carrying water.
10. Little boys can scream like little girls when attacked by flies.
11. Sometimes sticky kisses and smiling faces are the only thanks I need. Chocolate is also appreciated.
12. Craft sticks are the best kid friendly item to take to camp.
13. Never let your kids make friends with the bait.
14. The sleeping limit on a camper is only a suggestion.
15. You are never too old to lay under the stars, catch fireflies, eat a smore, or swing in a hammock.
16. Playing pranks on the girl's bathroom is not only a little boy activity.
17. Rocks, sticks, and inch works can fill an afternoon with delight.
18. You can never have too many bubbles. Or ice cream. Or flashlights. Or salamanders.
19. There is no way to put the experience into pictures.
20. There is a reason that we camp once a year.
2. At 8 months pregnant, every thing is twice as hard as it should be. At camp everything is twice as hard as it should be. That means that 8 months pregnant at camp is ten times harder than it should be. Just trust me on the math.
3. Eleven days is a long time to go camping. A V-E-R-Y long time to go camping.
4. A pregnant woman can drink 5 to 6 bottles of water and still be dehydrated in 95 degree heat. And our family really can not go camping without a trip to the ER.
5. A little dirt does not hurt.
6. Five kids at camp will all want to do something at the same time. About eight different somethings.
7. Ice cream is expensive, yet a good moisturizer.
8. One should never take five kids camping for finals week.
9. Chopping wood is not a pregnant woman activity. Or carrying wood. Or carrying water.
10. Little boys can scream like little girls when attacked by flies.
11. Sometimes sticky kisses and smiling faces are the only thanks I need. Chocolate is also appreciated.
12. Craft sticks are the best kid friendly item to take to camp.
13. Never let your kids make friends with the bait.
14. The sleeping limit on a camper is only a suggestion.
15. You are never too old to lay under the stars, catch fireflies, eat a smore, or swing in a hammock.
16. Playing pranks on the girl's bathroom is not only a little boy activity.
17. Rocks, sticks, and inch works can fill an afternoon with delight.
18. You can never have too many bubbles. Or ice cream. Or flashlights. Or salamanders.
19. There is no way to put the experience into pictures.
20. There is a reason that we camp once a year.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Don't Sweat the Small Stuff
Several times recently I have seen something that reminds me of my childhood. A post on Facebook about children going grocery shopping in costumes, a picture of me when I was younger, or even something someone said. All of these things add up to me thinking about what is important, and what is not, for a child.
For example, I was in a short online conversation about children in costumes in the store. The person was encouraging to moms who let their children dress up in public. Mine do that all the time, and I know the comments that we get are a mix between good and bad. I say thank you to the good and ignore the bad, but my children hear both and are a bit confused. This makes me think of my own childhood because I was never discouraged from figuring out who I am, be it a superhero, a costume, huge hair, purple hair, or odd clothing. I tried it all, and my mother took it with a grain of salt. I had different colors and lengths of hair in addition to crazy hair styles. She just would say "Hair grows back." I would dress in outfits that were more like costumes. I could go goth, punk, cowgirl, grunge, and girl next door all in the same week. She would pay no attention. I finally settled on a style that fit me, and was comfortable because I knew all the others were not me. I was not only trying to be shocking, as most teens try at some point, but I was figuring out who I was, where I fit, and what was me. Oh, there was a bit of an attempt at shocking, but that was a bonus side effect, which mostly bothered my father.
Living with four brothers means that a fair amount of things got broken, thrown around, blown up, or destroyed. If done intentionally, like strapping my favorite Barbie to a firecracker, there was discipline. But accidents were part of life and never a big deal. I can not count how many times I have heard "Things are not important, people are important," from my mother, from myself, and now echoed by grandchildren. Spilled drinks, broken dishes, broken windows, ruined clothing, and even a bottle of bluing dumped into the all of the laundry have all been responded to with the phrase. That does not mean that it was a free pass, you mess it, you clean it, but it was not a big deal.
Picky eaters were never admonished for eating only PB and J for weeks on end, but were encouraged to try something else. When that phase was over, it was over. The same went for clothing, hair styles, and even odd behaviors. Phases were treated like a phase that would pass, not a line to be drawn in the sand. It made it less likely for me to dig in my heels over something small because it was not a big deal, like purple hair. If there is no reaction, there was no fun in it. And as a phase was over, there was no comment. It just was over.
All of these things are the small stuff. Because we were given freedom in these areas, we became more likely to seek advice, or at least listen to advice, in the bigger areas. Areas that could impact our future, like friends, class choices, dating, driving, jobs, and life decisions. I am not saying I always followed the advice, but I heard it. And I knew that I could go to my mother even when heartbroken after not following her advice.
I have followed this style of parenting in my own home. I say no only when yes is not an option. We blow bubbles in the kitchen. We finger paint in the dining room. We have a bin of rice that we bury toys in to find later. We have a trampoline in the school room and a power wheels in the hallway. Because it will make a mess is not a reason to say no. There are limits and times for these activities, but they do happen often. My children have all heard me say things like "Hair grows back", "Don't cry over spilt milk", and "Things are not important, people are." We try not to sweat the small stuff, and handle the big stuff as it comes.
For example, I was in a short online conversation about children in costumes in the store. The person was encouraging to moms who let their children dress up in public. Mine do that all the time, and I know the comments that we get are a mix between good and bad. I say thank you to the good and ignore the bad, but my children hear both and are a bit confused. This makes me think of my own childhood because I was never discouraged from figuring out who I am, be it a superhero, a costume, huge hair, purple hair, or odd clothing. I tried it all, and my mother took it with a grain of salt. I had different colors and lengths of hair in addition to crazy hair styles. She just would say "Hair grows back." I would dress in outfits that were more like costumes. I could go goth, punk, cowgirl, grunge, and girl next door all in the same week. She would pay no attention. I finally settled on a style that fit me, and was comfortable because I knew all the others were not me. I was not only trying to be shocking, as most teens try at some point, but I was figuring out who I was, where I fit, and what was me. Oh, there was a bit of an attempt at shocking, but that was a bonus side effect, which mostly bothered my father.
Living with four brothers means that a fair amount of things got broken, thrown around, blown up, or destroyed. If done intentionally, like strapping my favorite Barbie to a firecracker, there was discipline. But accidents were part of life and never a big deal. I can not count how many times I have heard "Things are not important, people are important," from my mother, from myself, and now echoed by grandchildren. Spilled drinks, broken dishes, broken windows, ruined clothing, and even a bottle of bluing dumped into the all of the laundry have all been responded to with the phrase. That does not mean that it was a free pass, you mess it, you clean it, but it was not a big deal.
Picky eaters were never admonished for eating only PB and J for weeks on end, but were encouraged to try something else. When that phase was over, it was over. The same went for clothing, hair styles, and even odd behaviors. Phases were treated like a phase that would pass, not a line to be drawn in the sand. It made it less likely for me to dig in my heels over something small because it was not a big deal, like purple hair. If there is no reaction, there was no fun in it. And as a phase was over, there was no comment. It just was over.
All of these things are the small stuff. Because we were given freedom in these areas, we became more likely to seek advice, or at least listen to advice, in the bigger areas. Areas that could impact our future, like friends, class choices, dating, driving, jobs, and life decisions. I am not saying I always followed the advice, but I heard it. And I knew that I could go to my mother even when heartbroken after not following her advice.
I have followed this style of parenting in my own home. I say no only when yes is not an option. We blow bubbles in the kitchen. We finger paint in the dining room. We have a bin of rice that we bury toys in to find later. We have a trampoline in the school room and a power wheels in the hallway. Because it will make a mess is not a reason to say no. There are limits and times for these activities, but they do happen often. My children have all heard me say things like "Hair grows back", "Don't cry over spilt milk", and "Things are not important, people are." We try not to sweat the small stuff, and handle the big stuff as it comes.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Our life is a zoo...
At the Creation Museum we went to the petting zoo. Twice.
Angel was not too happy.
She got better after we left the second time.
David had the same level of excitment about the animals as Angel.
Maybe a bit less.
He allowed me to feed the animals for him.
And then spent the remainder of the time washing his hands.
In case animal germs flew through the air. Or because animals have spit.
Depending on the day you asked him.
Isaac had much more fun.
So did Faith.
The best part, is that they did not butt heads like goats.
While we were there.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Memory Lane, The End of Another School Year
Once again here we are, wrapping up another school year. The years seem to stretch before me, being pregnant there are so many left, but having a middle schooler there are also too few.
We are spending the week finishing things, finding things, putting together the portfolios, writing up next year's objectives, and doing final activities to complete the 2011-2012 school year. This year also includes re-writing the log book that got destroyed by the cats.
As always, there are so many things that we do that cannot fit in the portfolio. Sometimes we do huge projects, but that is not what I am talking about. I am talking about the things that there is no section for, not rubric, no entry in the log book. We have overcome so much this school year, from the loss of our Hope, to the loss of pets. Major sickness in family members, struggles finishing some school work, and long days of extra to make up for the lost days. Also, each of the children have had personal conquests.
Angel hit a school year in which it was not longer all easy work. At the beginning of the year she would struggle with work and it would be the end of the world if she got a problem wrong. Never mind if it was not on a test and she could simply fix it. There was frustration, tears, anger, and more tears. Now, she was doing long division and realized during the checking portion that she made a mistake on a worksheet. She was frustrated, but she redid the work. Several times. Until she got it right. And there were no tears. Only a huge smile because she prevailed. I have always had so many reason to be proud of her, and now there is one more!
Faith's progress has been measured in leaps and bounds since she was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. At times it was super hard, and at other times it was easier, at least in comparison. This year has been full of changes for her. Her gecko, Liz, died. She lost her favorite Behavior Specialist, and several came and went quickly. The last was also very good with her, and just left us. But on a positive note, this does not only mark the end of her time with that Behavior Specialist, but of her services altogether. She has progressed so much in recent months that there is no more a Behavior Specialist can do for her, for us. We are handling any problems that come up, and there was a recommendation to limit her services so much that it was about the same to quit receiving them, and so we all agreed that was the best option. And so as we look toward the next school year we are simply using the techniques we have learned in the past 18 months.
Isaac. Oh, Isaac. He is good at so many things, and he keeps me on my toes. In school he is great at math, but not so great at focusing. Once I get his attention, I only have a limited time to work with him. We have been working on some other issues as well, like anger, attention to work, and thinking through his actions before acting. I have seen some progress in these areas. I know the struggle is real, because he does not just have focus problems in school, but even in things he enjoys. With charts, reminders, rewards, and patience we will prevail. And past experience with other active children in my life lets me know that they slow down a good bit after hitting the teen years. May not pay attention, but at least they start to sit still for longer.
David is growing so fast! He is not doing school yet, of course. However, Angel does activities with him. He has spend the past few weeks having a great time as Mariah comes over to play. They love to paint, play, swim, and watch Blue's Clues. He has been showing a lot of interest in letters and numbers. He learned how to swim. He even goes under water. He still loves anything firefighter, and even got to help Pappy put out a fire!
And as usual, they are not the only ones learning and growing. I have been trying to keep ahead of them in their school, do my own school, write VBS, and keep growing this baby. I have dealt with my biggest fear, the loss of my baby. I struggled so much through the miscarriage and for months after, and am pulling through now. I have relied heavily on the grace of God, and my husband's support. And I am doing OK. And I know that doing great lies ahead. I have gone through a fire and am going to come out stronger, closer to God, and while I may never know the purpose of my loss, I know that Hope's time with us, however brief, served a purpose, changed us in many ways, and will bring God glory.
Still so much to do to finish our year, but this time when I close that portfolio after the evaluation, I have even more than ever before that we have accomplished, and my heart is full.
We are spending the week finishing things, finding things, putting together the portfolios, writing up next year's objectives, and doing final activities to complete the 2011-2012 school year. This year also includes re-writing the log book that got destroyed by the cats.
As always, there are so many things that we do that cannot fit in the portfolio. Sometimes we do huge projects, but that is not what I am talking about. I am talking about the things that there is no section for, not rubric, no entry in the log book. We have overcome so much this school year, from the loss of our Hope, to the loss of pets. Major sickness in family members, struggles finishing some school work, and long days of extra to make up for the lost days. Also, each of the children have had personal conquests.
Angel hit a school year in which it was not longer all easy work. At the beginning of the year she would struggle with work and it would be the end of the world if she got a problem wrong. Never mind if it was not on a test and she could simply fix it. There was frustration, tears, anger, and more tears. Now, she was doing long division and realized during the checking portion that she made a mistake on a worksheet. She was frustrated, but she redid the work. Several times. Until she got it right. And there were no tears. Only a huge smile because she prevailed. I have always had so many reason to be proud of her, and now there is one more!
Faith's progress has been measured in leaps and bounds since she was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. At times it was super hard, and at other times it was easier, at least in comparison. This year has been full of changes for her. Her gecko, Liz, died. She lost her favorite Behavior Specialist, and several came and went quickly. The last was also very good with her, and just left us. But on a positive note, this does not only mark the end of her time with that Behavior Specialist, but of her services altogether. She has progressed so much in recent months that there is no more a Behavior Specialist can do for her, for us. We are handling any problems that come up, and there was a recommendation to limit her services so much that it was about the same to quit receiving them, and so we all agreed that was the best option. And so as we look toward the next school year we are simply using the techniques we have learned in the past 18 months.
Isaac. Oh, Isaac. He is good at so many things, and he keeps me on my toes. In school he is great at math, but not so great at focusing. Once I get his attention, I only have a limited time to work with him. We have been working on some other issues as well, like anger, attention to work, and thinking through his actions before acting. I have seen some progress in these areas. I know the struggle is real, because he does not just have focus problems in school, but even in things he enjoys. With charts, reminders, rewards, and patience we will prevail. And past experience with other active children in my life lets me know that they slow down a good bit after hitting the teen years. May not pay attention, but at least they start to sit still for longer.
David is growing so fast! He is not doing school yet, of course. However, Angel does activities with him. He has spend the past few weeks having a great time as Mariah comes over to play. They love to paint, play, swim, and watch Blue's Clues. He has been showing a lot of interest in letters and numbers. He learned how to swim. He even goes under water. He still loves anything firefighter, and even got to help Pappy put out a fire!
And as usual, they are not the only ones learning and growing. I have been trying to keep ahead of them in their school, do my own school, write VBS, and keep growing this baby. I have dealt with my biggest fear, the loss of my baby. I struggled so much through the miscarriage and for months after, and am pulling through now. I have relied heavily on the grace of God, and my husband's support. And I am doing OK. And I know that doing great lies ahead. I have gone through a fire and am going to come out stronger, closer to God, and while I may never know the purpose of my loss, I know that Hope's time with us, however brief, served a purpose, changed us in many ways, and will bring God glory.
Still so much to do to finish our year, but this time when I close that portfolio after the evaluation, I have even more than ever before that we have accomplished, and my heart is full.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Normal is as Normal Does
For the longest time I was hung up on the concept of being normal. Being perfect. I would quiz my husband on what was normal when he was a child. What did you do for birthdays? Christmas? Easter? Summer vacation? Allowance?
I thought I would have it all figured out between his childhood and mine. I would take from here, take from there, blend new family traditions that reflect the old. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it did not. My husband is pretty easy going, so I end up doing whatever I want for chore lists, birthday parties, holidays.
When the kids were younger, he also worked out of town, so our every day routine was different. No sit down for supper every night, mostly we had cereal. Or pizza. Or pancakes. Or whatever the kids would eat that day. We had early mornings when I had class in the morning, and late mornings when I had night classes the day before. We walked everywhere we went because we had to. But we were a bit different having three kids in four years. And the concept of perfect changed. Perfect house, perfect kids, perfect wife and mother became to mean different things.
Then the kids got older, and a new normal was developed. I chose to homeschool. That became our new normal, not everyone else's normal. Then Andy started to entertain more. Which is a very different version of normal as our house filled up with unicycles, magic tricks, doves, machetes, and torches. Non-work hours began to be filed with shows and practice. And rubber chickens.
Soon after we added another boy. And discovered our second child has Asperger's. And ADHD. And our first boy is hyperactive, probably ADHD. Once again, normal shifted. Perfection shattered. What I once thought of as normal was so far away. Perfect was not even a long shot. It was no where in sight. And normal became long school days, late nights, a messy house, and hyper children. Loud children. Boys who are such boys! Girls who are such girls!
Soon I came to realize that normal and perfect are more like a mirage. You can see it, you think. You can almost touch it sometimes, but not really. And I adjusted. Our normal is not your normal. Your normal is not our normal. And I am glad. Because I would not trade my fire-juggling, tight-rope walking, magic huband, my girly stage performer, my free spirited nature lover, my delightful 100% rough and tumble superhero, or my singing dancing crazy son for someone else's image of perfect, of normal.
Our lives are filled with rubber chickens, nature crafts, music, glitter, stage performances, dancing, laughter, school work, magic, wonderment, and joy. And it is perfect.
I thought I would have it all figured out between his childhood and mine. I would take from here, take from there, blend new family traditions that reflect the old. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it did not. My husband is pretty easy going, so I end up doing whatever I want for chore lists, birthday parties, holidays.
When the kids were younger, he also worked out of town, so our every day routine was different. No sit down for supper every night, mostly we had cereal. Or pizza. Or pancakes. Or whatever the kids would eat that day. We had early mornings when I had class in the morning, and late mornings when I had night classes the day before. We walked everywhere we went because we had to. But we were a bit different having three kids in four years. And the concept of perfect changed. Perfect house, perfect kids, perfect wife and mother became to mean different things.
Then the kids got older, and a new normal was developed. I chose to homeschool. That became our new normal, not everyone else's normal. Then Andy started to entertain more. Which is a very different version of normal as our house filled up with unicycles, magic tricks, doves, machetes, and torches. Non-work hours began to be filed with shows and practice. And rubber chickens.
Soon after we added another boy. And discovered our second child has Asperger's. And ADHD. And our first boy is hyperactive, probably ADHD. Once again, normal shifted. Perfection shattered. What I once thought of as normal was so far away. Perfect was not even a long shot. It was no where in sight. And normal became long school days, late nights, a messy house, and hyper children. Loud children. Boys who are such boys! Girls who are such girls!
Soon I came to realize that normal and perfect are more like a mirage. You can see it, you think. You can almost touch it sometimes, but not really. And I adjusted. Our normal is not your normal. Your normal is not our normal. And I am glad. Because I would not trade my fire-juggling, tight-rope walking, magic huband, my girly stage performer, my free spirited nature lover, my delightful 100% rough and tumble superhero, or my singing dancing crazy son for someone else's image of perfect, of normal.
Our lives are filled with rubber chickens, nature crafts, music, glitter, stage performances, dancing, laughter, school work, magic, wonderment, and joy. And it is perfect.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
He said WHAT?
Today my boys are cracking me up. Here are a few examples.
David spilled Isaac's pellets for his gun. He yelled, "Holy crack monkeys!" as they bounced all over the floor. I am pretty sure I have never called anyone a crack monkey. At least not my children. When they could hear me. Just kidding. I have said they are like monkeys.
Faith needed a flashlight, and Isaac, scary enough, always knows where everything is stashed, like flashlights, matches, tape, all the fun stuff. We sent him for a flashlight. He can back with a flashlight with a whistle attached. Faith asked him if it worked, so he blew the whistle and said, "It sure does!"
Isaac's chores were emptying the trash cans and cleaning his room. I asked him to carry his laundry up and he said he was all chored out for the moment, he would do it as soon as he had a refreshing glass of water.
Faith gave David a fluffy bunny that squeaks when it is squeezed. He named it Squeaky McSqueaker Pants. It is now friends with Squeezy the Camel.
Faith was not happy to be washing the dishes. Isaac said, "You better stop complaining before it gets any worse around here."
Those are just a few of the crazy things going on here today!
David spilled Isaac's pellets for his gun. He yelled, "Holy crack monkeys!" as they bounced all over the floor. I am pretty sure I have never called anyone a crack monkey. At least not my children. When they could hear me. Just kidding. I have said they are like monkeys.
Faith needed a flashlight, and Isaac, scary enough, always knows where everything is stashed, like flashlights, matches, tape, all the fun stuff. We sent him for a flashlight. He can back with a flashlight with a whistle attached. Faith asked him if it worked, so he blew the whistle and said, "It sure does!"
Isaac's chores were emptying the trash cans and cleaning his room. I asked him to carry his laundry up and he said he was all chored out for the moment, he would do it as soon as he had a refreshing glass of water.
Faith gave David a fluffy bunny that squeaks when it is squeezed. He named it Squeaky McSqueaker Pants. It is now friends with Squeezy the Camel.
Faith was not happy to be washing the dishes. Isaac said, "You better stop complaining before it gets any worse around here."
Those are just a few of the crazy things going on here today!
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Beyond the Limits of Reality
It is no surprise to many, most, of you that I have a child, our Faith, who has Asperger's Syndrome, which is on the Autism Spectrum. This is something that effects our daily lives in so many ways. Lights are loud. Clothing makes her skin crawl. Pencils can hurt her fingers. Emotions are high, or seemingly not there. Reactions can turn into overreactions quickly, suddenly.
There are also the positive sides. She sees everything in a different way, from a different perspective, which, when she shares it with us, adds depth and richness to our lives. She has abundant energy, and a very active, creative imagination. She is not seemingly limited to reality, to the boundaries of time and space as she dreams impossible dreams, creates, imagines.
Today at lunch the kids were playing Rhyme Time, which is a rhyming game where one says a word and the others name rhymes. David started.
"Space"
"Face"
"Race"
"Place"
Faith went next.
"Rice"
"Ice"
"Nice"
"Spoon" (The three year old can only get so many correct.)
Angel, smirking, took her turn.
"Orange"
Silence, then Isaac bursts out with "Nothing rhymes with orange!"
Faith chimed in, "That's not true! I can think of a dozen words that rhyme with orange!"
Angel asked, "Real words, with meanings?"
"Sure," replied Faith.
"In English?" asked Angel.
"Well, if you have to place those kinds of limits on it, then no," replied Faith.
And now, for the past half hour we have heard nothing but words that rhyme with orange. And what they could possibly mean. In a made up language. That she alone hears and understands. For a world she alone sees. One that is not limited to the plausible, but to the possible, even the impossible. On most days, despite our struggles, I wish for a glimpse. Just tiny peek into that world. Surely it is amazing, beautiful, beyond description, full of wonder. A world that pushes, even bends, the limits of reality.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"It seems to me there's so much more to the world than the average eye is allowed to see. I believe, if you look hard, there are more wonders in this universe than you could ever have dreamt of. "
~ Vincent
"I've seen many things, my friend. But you're right. Nothing's quite as wonderful as the things you see." ~ The Doctor
There are also the positive sides. She sees everything in a different way, from a different perspective, which, when she shares it with us, adds depth and richness to our lives. She has abundant energy, and a very active, creative imagination. She is not seemingly limited to reality, to the boundaries of time and space as she dreams impossible dreams, creates, imagines.
Today at lunch the kids were playing Rhyme Time, which is a rhyming game where one says a word and the others name rhymes. David started.
"Space"
"Face"
"Race"
"Place"
Faith went next.
"Rice"
"Ice"
"Nice"
"Spoon" (The three year old can only get so many correct.)
Angel, smirking, took her turn.
"Orange"
Silence, then Isaac bursts out with "Nothing rhymes with orange!"
Faith chimed in, "That's not true! I can think of a dozen words that rhyme with orange!"
Angel asked, "Real words, with meanings?"
"Sure," replied Faith.
"In English?" asked Angel.
"Well, if you have to place those kinds of limits on it, then no," replied Faith.
And now, for the past half hour we have heard nothing but words that rhyme with orange. And what they could possibly mean. In a made up language. That she alone hears and understands. For a world she alone sees. One that is not limited to the plausible, but to the possible, even the impossible. On most days, despite our struggles, I wish for a glimpse. Just tiny peek into that world. Surely it is amazing, beautiful, beyond description, full of wonder. A world that pushes, even bends, the limits of reality.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"It seems to me there's so much more to the world than the average eye is allowed to see. I believe, if you look hard, there are more wonders in this universe than you could ever have dreamt of. "
~ Vincent
"I've seen many things, my friend. But you're right. Nothing's quite as wonderful as the things you see." ~ The Doctor
Monday, April 16, 2012
Are ALL these children yours??
Yesterday was a lovely day. All the kids, plus an niece, had a great time playing outside. But, the kids had some money just burning a hole in their little pockets and really wanted to go to the candy store. We put the preschoolers in strollers and walked to the candy store for some snacks and a nice, cold drink. A pregnant lady pushing a stroller, a preteen pushing another stroller, and two school aged children walking. They kids were all given a limit in the store and bartered with each other, traded parts of snacks, and decided to share some things to squeak in under the budget. We were there for quite a while.
As we walked up to pay, each child paying and getting things bagged up individually, there was a lady in line behind us. She waited quite a while to make her small purchase as my children counted out pennies and traded coins. I offered to let her go first, but when all my children stepped out of the way she told us to go ahead. We left the store, and began to get everyone settled with snacks, drinks, and in the strollers for the short walk home. And then it happened. The lady came out of the store and asked me the question I always hate.
"Are all these children yours?"
I try to instruct my children to be kind, so I often have to stifle the snide answers that I can think in an effort to practice what I preach. All the little eyes turned to me. I sighed internally, smiled, and said, "Only four of them. One is my niece."
She patted my belly, which I usually hate, looked into my eyes and smiled. "God bless you and your lovely family. Cherish these days. They go by so fast." And then she walked away.
My eyes teared up. I am so used to defending our 'large' family to everyone that starts the conversation in such a manner. I get frustrated with others because I do not think that we are a large family, there are only four children. To me large is more like eight, ten children. Which also sounds fine to me. Also, Any frazzled mother who is doing their very best for their children can tell you that a negative comment in the middle of the day seems so judgemental, and stacked up the comments begin to crush your spirit.
Yet her kind eyes and sweet comment refreshed me much more than my cold drink ever could. I do cherish everyday. I already see it slipping away too fast. Walking through the grocery store and seeing a couple of children whining for something to their haggard mother I smile. Seeing people lining up their children to fill their plates at family parties and church events, again, I smile wistfully. Sure, I still have a preschooler and will soon have another baby. But the older three are more independent, can take care of themselves, and a part of me longingly remembers three pairs of tiny hands hanging on my shirt as we go to the buffet, cross the street, or walk into church. And now I seen them skipping ahead, texting friends, laughing and talking with each other, and I squeeze David's hand gently, holding on tightly while I still can, while he still wants me too. .
My biggest fear is that when I am behind a family with children counting out pennies I will wish that I took the time. Time for watching clouds, catching bugs, painting nails, building forts, developing the relationship that will encourage them to call me everyday, count me among their friends, bring me grandchildren to play with. So many other things, worthy things, pull at me for my time, time I only have so much of. And I have none to spare. Not if I want to look back and smile, knowing that each day was full of laughter, love, and joy because I choose to spend my time wisely. And I don't want to miss a minute.
As we walked up to pay, each child paying and getting things bagged up individually, there was a lady in line behind us. She waited quite a while to make her small purchase as my children counted out pennies and traded coins. I offered to let her go first, but when all my children stepped out of the way she told us to go ahead. We left the store, and began to get everyone settled with snacks, drinks, and in the strollers for the short walk home. And then it happened. The lady came out of the store and asked me the question I always hate.
"Are all these children yours?"
I try to instruct my children to be kind, so I often have to stifle the snide answers that I can think in an effort to practice what I preach. All the little eyes turned to me. I sighed internally, smiled, and said, "Only four of them. One is my niece."
She patted my belly, which I usually hate, looked into my eyes and smiled. "God bless you and your lovely family. Cherish these days. They go by so fast." And then she walked away.
My eyes teared up. I am so used to defending our 'large' family to everyone that starts the conversation in such a manner. I get frustrated with others because I do not think that we are a large family, there are only four children. To me large is more like eight, ten children. Which also sounds fine to me. Also, Any frazzled mother who is doing their very best for their children can tell you that a negative comment in the middle of the day seems so judgemental, and stacked up the comments begin to crush your spirit.
Yet her kind eyes and sweet comment refreshed me much more than my cold drink ever could. I do cherish everyday. I already see it slipping away too fast. Walking through the grocery store and seeing a couple of children whining for something to their haggard mother I smile. Seeing people lining up their children to fill their plates at family parties and church events, again, I smile wistfully. Sure, I still have a preschooler and will soon have another baby. But the older three are more independent, can take care of themselves, and a part of me longingly remembers three pairs of tiny hands hanging on my shirt as we go to the buffet, cross the street, or walk into church. And now I seen them skipping ahead, texting friends, laughing and talking with each other, and I squeeze David's hand gently, holding on tightly while I still can, while he still wants me too. .
My biggest fear is that when I am behind a family with children counting out pennies I will wish that I took the time. Time for watching clouds, catching bugs, painting nails, building forts, developing the relationship that will encourage them to call me everyday, count me among their friends, bring me grandchildren to play with. So many other things, worthy things, pull at me for my time, time I only have so much of. And I have none to spare. Not if I want to look back and smile, knowing that each day was full of laughter, love, and joy because I choose to spend my time wisely. And I don't want to miss a minute.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
It's a...
Yesterday we went to the doctor. All of us. It was my ultrasound appointment. Andy took off the day to take us all. We all needed the reassurance of seeing our sweet baby, knowing that everything was going to be fine. And we were all dying to know if we were getting a little boy or girl.
The ultrasound tech said boy, and the boys were quite happy. Isaac was grinning ear to ear. David gave a "YES". The girls were less excited. Angel said it did not matter to her, she wanted a girl, but really is excited that there will be another baby. Faith had the best reaction. She waited until everyone else left the room. It was just me and her. She looked at me and said: "I wanted a girl. But it is a boy. That must be God's plan. I know boys are here for a purpose, but I just don't know what that is yet."
We are going to prepare for another boy. Praying for a healthy baby, a safe delivery, and many wonderful years!
The ultrasound tech said boy, and the boys were quite happy. Isaac was grinning ear to ear. David gave a "YES". The girls were less excited. Angel said it did not matter to her, she wanted a girl, but really is excited that there will be another baby. Faith had the best reaction. She waited until everyone else left the room. It was just me and her. She looked at me and said: "I wanted a girl. But it is a boy. That must be God's plan. I know boys are here for a purpose, but I just don't know what that is yet."
We are going to prepare for another boy. Praying for a healthy baby, a safe delivery, and many wonderful years!
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Blessed Be Your Name
This school year has been very hard on our family. We have suffered loss, had problems that we have not had to face in quite a while, are behind in school, and are trying to take it one day at a time. I am consistently amazed that just when we need some encouragement, it is there. This song has been in my head for a while, well, that and "Da Lime in Da Coconut" thanks to my father in law.
This song reminds me that every moment of every day I have a choice. I can choose to fall into despair, or I can choose to look beyond myself, my circumstances, and simply find peace in through my Savior. We have spent a good amount of time recently in the desert place, the wilderness, on a road marked with suffering, surrounded by dark clouds, yet today I choose to praise God. For God is always good, no matter where I am. And yes, there is pain in the offering of this praise at times, but still I will choose to say blessed be Your name, Lord.
Blessed Be Your Name
Matt Redman
Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name
Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's 'all as it should be'
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name
This song reminds me that every moment of every day I have a choice. I can choose to fall into despair, or I can choose to look beyond myself, my circumstances, and simply find peace in through my Savior. We have spent a good amount of time recently in the desert place, the wilderness, on a road marked with suffering, surrounded by dark clouds, yet today I choose to praise God. For God is always good, no matter where I am. And yes, there is pain in the offering of this praise at times, but still I will choose to say blessed be Your name, Lord.
Blessed Be Your Name
Matt Redman
Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name
Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's 'all as it should be'
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name
Friday, March 30, 2012
Lime and Lime Again!
Aside from being older and wiser (HA!), this pregnancy has been different for me in many ways. I was super sick, had odd problems that have never occurred before, and my belly popped out like a beach ball before I even told anyone that I was expecting. I can deal with the odd things, like my feet are freezing, I have to take more medicine than I have ever taken before, and I want to eat something really bad until I get it and it makes me sick to look at it. But for the past few weeks, it has gotten even more weird.
I want to eat a lime. Never mind that I have never eaten a lime before. Ever. Or that I am not even sure I know what a lime tastes like. Every night around bedtime I get this craving that will not go away. For limes. I don't even know what I would do with a lime if I had one. Slice it up and put it in my water? Peel it and eat it? Cook with it? Garnish something? Seriously, no idea.
Last night it was so bad that I went online to find recipes with limes. I found a garlic lime chicken over rice. I had to send my poor husband to the store for lime juice. It was good, and yet, the craving remains. I have tried to drink a bit of lemon lime soda, but after only water forever any soda tastes super sweet. I made lime jello. Did not quench the craving. And I did not like it. As I said, I am not even sure I like lime. I am thinking that I don't.
There really is not point to this, aside from letting you all know how odd I am right now. Well, that, and I am not sure how long my husband will last if I keep waking him up after midnight to tell him that I want a lime, only to have him text me the next day to see if he should stop for one and I say no. The craving is gone by morning, only to return at bedtime and haunt me all night long. So, perhaps you can shoot me an email with lime recipes that I can try. Or I may resort to drinking the lime juice in that tiny green bottle that is now in my fridge...
I want to eat a lime. Never mind that I have never eaten a lime before. Ever. Or that I am not even sure I know what a lime tastes like. Every night around bedtime I get this craving that will not go away. For limes. I don't even know what I would do with a lime if I had one. Slice it up and put it in my water? Peel it and eat it? Cook with it? Garnish something? Seriously, no idea.
Last night it was so bad that I went online to find recipes with limes. I found a garlic lime chicken over rice. I had to send my poor husband to the store for lime juice. It was good, and yet, the craving remains. I have tried to drink a bit of lemon lime soda, but after only water forever any soda tastes super sweet. I made lime jello. Did not quench the craving. And I did not like it. As I said, I am not even sure I like lime. I am thinking that I don't.
There really is not point to this, aside from letting you all know how odd I am right now. Well, that, and I am not sure how long my husband will last if I keep waking him up after midnight to tell him that I want a lime, only to have him text me the next day to see if he should stop for one and I say no. The craving is gone by morning, only to return at bedtime and haunt me all night long. So, perhaps you can shoot me an email with lime recipes that I can try. Or I may resort to drinking the lime juice in that tiny green bottle that is now in my fridge...
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
The Doctor Kicking It Lego Style
Lego creations by Faith
Doctor Who with his sonic screwdriver and the TARDIS
Confession Time
I have a confession. I hate cleaning. My house shows it. There are so many other ways I can find that are very valuable ways to spend my time. My school. Home school. Reading, games, puzzles, activities, crafts with the kids. Backyard fires. Long bike rides. Walks. Movie night.
When we do clean, it is with the kids too. They do dishes, laundry, sweep, scrub, vacuum, and dust. We work together to get it done as quickly as possible. And it looks like the kids helped. They are still learning.
There is always clean laundry stacked on the couch. And crafting remnants on the floor. And Legos everywhere. Game pieces on the living room floor, school work on the dining room table, and glitter all over. We have toys on the floor, books on the love seat, and movies stacked up by the DVD player. There is at least one fake bug somewhere in every room of our house.
You see, we live here. All the time. And we do school here. There are some hyper kids, some slow to complete task kids, and some kids who are much bigger and are just trying to enjoy the little ones while they are still little. And waiting for some little woodland critters to help has not yet paid off. So we dust in between subjects, scoop up toys so we can vacuum, and shift school work to eat together. Regardless of how clean, not or so clean it is, I always step on or hit the bugs, just in case...
When we do clean, it is with the kids too. They do dishes, laundry, sweep, scrub, vacuum, and dust. We work together to get it done as quickly as possible. And it looks like the kids helped. They are still learning.
There is always clean laundry stacked on the couch. And crafting remnants on the floor. And Legos everywhere. Game pieces on the living room floor, school work on the dining room table, and glitter all over. We have toys on the floor, books on the love seat, and movies stacked up by the DVD player. There is at least one fake bug somewhere in every room of our house.
You see, we live here. All the time. And we do school here. There are some hyper kids, some slow to complete task kids, and some kids who are much bigger and are just trying to enjoy the little ones while they are still little. And waiting for some little woodland critters to help has not yet paid off. So we dust in between subjects, scoop up toys so we can vacuum, and shift school work to eat together. Regardless of how clean, not or so clean it is, I always step on or hit the bugs, just in case...
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The Truth About Socialization
When people hear that we home school, there are a few things they usually ask. Why?? Is that legal?? What about socialization?? I am often tempted to give a sarcastic response. "No, actually it's not legal, so please don't tell anyone!" Usually, because I am supposed to be setting a good example for my children, I answer honestly and openly. And maybe with more than the asker bargained for in some cases.
You see, my least favorite question is socialization. According to dictionary.com, socialization is "a continuing process whereby an individual acquires a personal identity and learns the norms, values, behavior, and social skills appropriate to his or her social position". Nothing in the definition states that this happens by being in a group of their peers for over a decade. Actually, I think that the process of obtaining socialization took me longer because of peer pressure. I wanted to be cool. I wanted to fit in. Almost every stupid decision I ever made was a direct result of peer pressure. And it never worked. I was not cool. I did not fit in. And I felt like a sell out every time I saw an injustice and said nothing. Choose to be silent when seeing bullying. Knew my friends were taking up destructive habits, but said nothing. Did not say what I thought or believed because I did not want to be ridiculed because of my faith.
I can give many examples of home schoolers that I know that do not feel the crush of peer pressure. Who stay true to themselves, their beliefs, and their faith regardless of circumstances. Mainly, I see my oldest daughter. Who she is. Who she is becoming.
Angel does not feel the need to impress anyone. She does what she enjoys, regardless of who finds that popular. She wears what she likes. She watches, or does not watch, things based on her preferences and beliefs. She forms her own opinions. Strongly. Her taste in music is not the same as her friends. Or her taste in books, games, activities, or how she feels about school. We are more alike than she will want to admit. But by middle school I had already felt the pull of peer pressure shaping who I was, even though I was strong. She does not. I have seen her decline opportunities with friends because she wants to spend time with extended family. Or at church. I have seen her not participate in activities because she felt that something about those activities was wrong. She sings, dances, and acts because it is fun for her. She performs dances to praise music for church that she choreographs herself because she enjoys it. She participates in youth group, joins her father onstage, and is actively involved in community service. Not because it is what her friends do, but because she finds meaning and enjoyment in those activities.
And yet, despite not caring what others think of her, we can not go anywhere without someone calling out "Hey Angel!" or "Look, Angel's here!" The post office, the bank, the playground, the park, swimming, restaurants, grocery stores, the library, even in our back yard. She knows people everywhere we go. Just tonight we were running at the local school track, just the two of us. We get out of the van , and hear "Angel!!" There were only a handful of people there, and most of them knew her. Children, parents, teachers, coaches.
I am convinced that this happens not despite her being true to herself, but because of it. You see, she learned something already that took me until the beginning of twelfth grade to discover. It does not matter in the long run who likes what you do if you do not. It does not matter what others think of your faith if God is not pleased. It does not matter what others think of you if you are not happy with who you are. She is very comfortable with who she is, and that appeals to others. Spending time with a variety of ages makes her comfortable talking to her peers, their parents, and any siblings. She is kind, likes listening to people, and enjoys serving God and others. I know that she is this confident in who she is because she has been given the freedom of home school. Freedom to help choose what she learns, and how. Freedom to excel, or take some extra time. Freedom to interact with her great grandparents, uncles, younger siblings, friends, parents, coaches, teachers and even those people who ask if we are sure our children will have enough socialization.
You see, my least favorite question is socialization. According to dictionary.com, socialization is "a continuing process whereby an individual acquires a personal identity and learns the norms, values, behavior, and social skills appropriate to his or her social position". Nothing in the definition states that this happens by being in a group of their peers for over a decade. Actually, I think that the process of obtaining socialization took me longer because of peer pressure. I wanted to be cool. I wanted to fit in. Almost every stupid decision I ever made was a direct result of peer pressure. And it never worked. I was not cool. I did not fit in. And I felt like a sell out every time I saw an injustice and said nothing. Choose to be silent when seeing bullying. Knew my friends were taking up destructive habits, but said nothing. Did not say what I thought or believed because I did not want to be ridiculed because of my faith.
I can give many examples of home schoolers that I know that do not feel the crush of peer pressure. Who stay true to themselves, their beliefs, and their faith regardless of circumstances. Mainly, I see my oldest daughter. Who she is. Who she is becoming.
Angel does not feel the need to impress anyone. She does what she enjoys, regardless of who finds that popular. She wears what she likes. She watches, or does not watch, things based on her preferences and beliefs. She forms her own opinions. Strongly. Her taste in music is not the same as her friends. Or her taste in books, games, activities, or how she feels about school. We are more alike than she will want to admit. But by middle school I had already felt the pull of peer pressure shaping who I was, even though I was strong. She does not. I have seen her decline opportunities with friends because she wants to spend time with extended family. Or at church. I have seen her not participate in activities because she felt that something about those activities was wrong. She sings, dances, and acts because it is fun for her. She performs dances to praise music for church that she choreographs herself because she enjoys it. She participates in youth group, joins her father onstage, and is actively involved in community service. Not because it is what her friends do, but because she finds meaning and enjoyment in those activities.
And yet, despite not caring what others think of her, we can not go anywhere without someone calling out "Hey Angel!" or "Look, Angel's here!" The post office, the bank, the playground, the park, swimming, restaurants, grocery stores, the library, even in our back yard. She knows people everywhere we go. Just tonight we were running at the local school track, just the two of us. We get out of the van , and hear "Angel!!" There were only a handful of people there, and most of them knew her. Children, parents, teachers, coaches.
I am convinced that this happens not despite her being true to herself, but because of it. You see, she learned something already that took me until the beginning of twelfth grade to discover. It does not matter in the long run who likes what you do if you do not. It does not matter what others think of your faith if God is not pleased. It does not matter what others think of you if you are not happy with who you are. She is very comfortable with who she is, and that appeals to others. Spending time with a variety of ages makes her comfortable talking to her peers, their parents, and any siblings. She is kind, likes listening to people, and enjoys serving God and others. I know that she is this confident in who she is because she has been given the freedom of home school. Freedom to help choose what she learns, and how. Freedom to excel, or take some extra time. Freedom to interact with her great grandparents, uncles, younger siblings, friends, parents, coaches, teachers and even those people who ask if we are sure our children will have enough socialization.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
How very odd...
Pregnancy does odd things to a woman. To her body, to her mental state, to her emotional state, and even to her family. There are things other people notice by a glance, like my freaky hair, my double wide booty, or a belly that looks 6 months but is only 15 weeks. Then there are the things that my family notices, like the fact that I no longer drink coffee everyday, that peanut butter make me sick, and that I am oversensitive about things like babies and Batman. Then there are the things I notice, like I have to go to the bathroom every half hour all night long, that I sweat doing even the most mundane things, or that I eat like a hobbit. My feet grow wider, my nose gets bigger, my hair is curly one day and straight the next.
Pregnancy has made my family extra irritating. For example, they do crazy things like eat the last of the chocolate, drink the last of the water, or breathe at me. Or, while I am sleeping they crawl into my dreams and do irritating stuff so that I wake up grumpy. Or they do horrible things like ask me where I would like to eat for supper, which makes me cry. Or they are really nice to me when I am mad for no rational reason.
Then there are the times that I crave some specific food, only to make it and gag over the way it looks. Or those times when I want two foods that will never go good together, like chocolate ice cream and lemonade. The times I will die if I do not have a Sheetz hot dog right now, even if I was sound asleep five seconds ago.
There are those times when I cry at the baby on the baby wipe box. Or because Andy told me that I am beautiful when pregnant. And he did not even mention that I am also crazy. Or I cry because my son told me that Batman is not real. Or when I cry because it is Tuesday. Or reading a poem about a bird to my son, or a birthday cake book to my other son. Or when I am talking to my daughter about Narnia, or dinosaurs. I cry when I do not even know that I am crying. At first my children found it alarming. Now they laugh behind their hands. In a different room. Which also makes me cry.
But the worst has to be that somewhere, deep down, there is a remnant of the rational me that sees all of this crazy. And she protests. And she tries to reason with my hormone saturated brain. She struggles to make sense of my tears, my fears, my craving, and my brand of crazy. She knows that Batman is (probably) not real. She knows that of course the baby on the wipes box is cute. And that it is actually me who is irritating, not my family. She tries to explain that it is ok if they eat the chocolate, because it makes me sick anyway. And that I do cry too much, and when it was not me, say it was my mother, I found it funny too. But she is too quiet to hear over my craziness, and I am the only one who sees her daily.
She also knows that soon this will all be over. The world will not end. People do not die from being pregnant, even if they also homeschool. There will be a wonderful tiny baby, and we will laugh and cry and be a family forever. And, very importantly, she knows that soon I will be able to stomach chocolate. And a daily cup of coffee. But I will be reluctant to give up my nap.
Pregnancy has made my family extra irritating. For example, they do crazy things like eat the last of the chocolate, drink the last of the water, or breathe at me. Or, while I am sleeping they crawl into my dreams and do irritating stuff so that I wake up grumpy. Or they do horrible things like ask me where I would like to eat for supper, which makes me cry. Or they are really nice to me when I am mad for no rational reason.
Then there are the times that I crave some specific food, only to make it and gag over the way it looks. Or those times when I want two foods that will never go good together, like chocolate ice cream and lemonade. The times I will die if I do not have a Sheetz hot dog right now, even if I was sound asleep five seconds ago.
There are those times when I cry at the baby on the baby wipe box. Or because Andy told me that I am beautiful when pregnant. And he did not even mention that I am also crazy. Or I cry because my son told me that Batman is not real. Or when I cry because it is Tuesday. Or reading a poem about a bird to my son, or a birthday cake book to my other son. Or when I am talking to my daughter about Narnia, or dinosaurs. I cry when I do not even know that I am crying. At first my children found it alarming. Now they laugh behind their hands. In a different room. Which also makes me cry.
But the worst has to be that somewhere, deep down, there is a remnant of the rational me that sees all of this crazy. And she protests. And she tries to reason with my hormone saturated brain. She struggles to make sense of my tears, my fears, my craving, and my brand of crazy. She knows that Batman is (probably) not real. She knows that of course the baby on the wipes box is cute. And that it is actually me who is irritating, not my family. She tries to explain that it is ok if they eat the chocolate, because it makes me sick anyway. And that I do cry too much, and when it was not me, say it was my mother, I found it funny too. But she is too quiet to hear over my craziness, and I am the only one who sees her daily.
She also knows that soon this will all be over. The world will not end. People do not die from being pregnant, even if they also homeschool. There will be a wonderful tiny baby, and we will laugh and cry and be a family forever. And, very importantly, she knows that soon I will be able to stomach chocolate. And a daily cup of coffee. But I will be reluctant to give up my nap.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Top ten reasons why I love to home school
In any random order, not the order of importance!
10. Those days when we stay in our jammies all day.
9. Sleeping in on yucky days.
8. Cuddling all the kids in my room in the morning.
7. Starting the day with devotions and prayer.
6. Watching my children as they play together during breaks.
5. Catching that "ah ha"moment when understanding dawns for the first time. Every time.
4. Seeing my children work together at school, around the house, and as they help me.
3. Co-op classes that allow all the kids to get together to learn and play, and the moms get a bit of a break.
2. Reading aloud a great book, sipping hot chocolate.
1. Growing closer to each other and closer to God.
10. Those days when we stay in our jammies all day.
9. Sleeping in on yucky days.
8. Cuddling all the kids in my room in the morning.
7. Starting the day with devotions and prayer.
6. Watching my children as they play together during breaks.
5. Catching that "ah ha"moment when understanding dawns for the first time. Every time.
4. Seeing my children work together at school, around the house, and as they help me.
3. Co-op classes that allow all the kids to get together to learn and play, and the moms get a bit of a break.
2. Reading aloud a great book, sipping hot chocolate.
1. Growing closer to each other and closer to God.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Things I overheard from the children today...
Isaac and his cousins playing Wii:
"Cousins are like friends"
"Yeah, but they have to like you."
Faith to her cousin, still playing Wii:
"Hold still and let me beat you up!"
M to Angel:
"I want to come over everyday. Can I shop in your room everyday?"
Faith to her cousins:
"Oh yeah, just ask my mom about him when they were growing up. Does she have some stories for you!"
Faith to her cousin:
"We should do this more. What are your plans next weekend?"
Best line ever:
"Let's all spent the night together at Grandma's!" They meant all 11 of them! I am in! Dan, Amber? Scott, Theresa? What do you think??
"Cousins are like friends"
"Yeah, but they have to like you."
Faith to her cousin, still playing Wii:
"Hold still and let me beat you up!"
M to Angel:
"I want to come over everyday. Can I shop in your room everyday?"
Faith to her cousins:
"Oh yeah, just ask my mom about him when they were growing up. Does she have some stories for you!"
Faith to her cousin:
"We should do this more. What are your plans next weekend?"
Best line ever:
"Let's all spent the night together at Grandma's!" They meant all 11 of them! I am in! Dan, Amber? Scott, Theresa? What do you think??
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Yield. And then maybe smile a bit.
I live in a small town. We have small town roads and sidewalks in most places. In other places we have one lane bridges and no sidewalks. Almost everything is in walking distance. I enjoy this very much. But I have come to find something unsettling on our ventures out, especially when my kids are riding their bikes.
We have a grocery store within about a block from our home. On the way there is a one lane bridge. And construction that covers the sidewalk. I have some young bike riders, but they know the rules and are cautious. I am not worried about them, I am worried for them. Because of the adults around.
My nine year old has Asperger's Syndrome, which is on the Autism Spectrum. We were told she probably would not have the balance to ride her bike without training wheels. We never told her that. We coached, worked, practiced, and prayed. It may have taken her two years longer, and she is a bit unsteady, but she rides. Without training wheels. And she can go far.
My seven year old was quick to get his training wheels off his bike. He started taking them off himself. He is fast and steady. He was riding without training wheels before his big sister. He rides slowly with his sister. To keep her safe. He encourages her up the hills, and even down the other side.
And I am proud of them both. Her perseverance. His protection. Her smiling face. His kind heart.
You see, that one lane bridge is scary for her. She has to pedal up a small hill. She is close to cars. She may seem like she does not see them, but that is because she doesn't want to make eye contact with the drivers. She knows you are there. And sometimes she panics if cars are too close, too loud, or too fast, even if they are on the road and she is on the sidewalk. But on that bridge she has no choice. She has to step out of her comfort zone, away from her safe place. Again. She does this in many ways everyday, but this is the only time I fear for her.
On that bridge, she has to be on the road. And adults are impatient. And rude. They beep at her if she is taking too long. Or creep up onto the bridge invading her space. Sometimes it alarms her enough that she jumps off her bike and runs. I am usually right there, but she will still get afraid. And so Isaac rides between her and the road. To protect her.
If I could say one thing to the drivers we see often, especially today, it would be shame on you. Shame on you for your impatience. For your frustration. You see, even if she was not a little different in this area, she is still a child. She will go too slow. Or too fast. She may swerve a little. She may not see you coming up behind her. But as a child, that is to be expected. As adult, on the other hand, should know better. Should yield to the child that seems "in the way", your child or not. Your relative or not. Your neighbor or not. Because by your actions you teach each child you meet. You are teaching impatience. Frustration. Lack of compassion. I am a firm believer that the only thing wrong with "kids these days" is the adults that they have to look to as an example.
So if you are in my town on a nice day and you see a beautiful little girl on a pink bike with a rubber snake in the basket, please be patient. Give her an extra moment. Maybe a smile. She may not respond in kind, but she will notice. And so will her sister and brothers. And her mother. And they will be very grateful.
We have a grocery store within about a block from our home. On the way there is a one lane bridge. And construction that covers the sidewalk. I have some young bike riders, but they know the rules and are cautious. I am not worried about them, I am worried for them. Because of the adults around.
My nine year old has Asperger's Syndrome, which is on the Autism Spectrum. We were told she probably would not have the balance to ride her bike without training wheels. We never told her that. We coached, worked, practiced, and prayed. It may have taken her two years longer, and she is a bit unsteady, but she rides. Without training wheels. And she can go far.
My seven year old was quick to get his training wheels off his bike. He started taking them off himself. He is fast and steady. He was riding without training wheels before his big sister. He rides slowly with his sister. To keep her safe. He encourages her up the hills, and even down the other side.
And I am proud of them both. Her perseverance. His protection. Her smiling face. His kind heart.
You see, that one lane bridge is scary for her. She has to pedal up a small hill. She is close to cars. She may seem like she does not see them, but that is because she doesn't want to make eye contact with the drivers. She knows you are there. And sometimes she panics if cars are too close, too loud, or too fast, even if they are on the road and she is on the sidewalk. But on that bridge she has no choice. She has to step out of her comfort zone, away from her safe place. Again. She does this in many ways everyday, but this is the only time I fear for her.
On that bridge, she has to be on the road. And adults are impatient. And rude. They beep at her if she is taking too long. Or creep up onto the bridge invading her space. Sometimes it alarms her enough that she jumps off her bike and runs. I am usually right there, but she will still get afraid. And so Isaac rides between her and the road. To protect her.
If I could say one thing to the drivers we see often, especially today, it would be shame on you. Shame on you for your impatience. For your frustration. You see, even if she was not a little different in this area, she is still a child. She will go too slow. Or too fast. She may swerve a little. She may not see you coming up behind her. But as a child, that is to be expected. As adult, on the other hand, should know better. Should yield to the child that seems "in the way", your child or not. Your relative or not. Your neighbor or not. Because by your actions you teach each child you meet. You are teaching impatience. Frustration. Lack of compassion. I am a firm believer that the only thing wrong with "kids these days" is the adults that they have to look to as an example.
So if you are in my town on a nice day and you see a beautiful little girl on a pink bike with a rubber snake in the basket, please be patient. Give her an extra moment. Maybe a smile. She may not respond in kind, but she will notice. And so will her sister and brothers. And her mother. And they will be very grateful.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Top Ten Reasons My Husband is the Best!
I know that there are many people who seem to live their private lives a little loud on the Internet. And often times I wonder if some gush over each other online because they do not do it in person. I have mostly shied away from declarations of my undying love for my husband because, well, because I do not want to be all gross and mushy. However, I have also noticed many other little things, jokes, but not really jokes, about husbands. Or men in general. And even when they may give me a chuckle at times, I can not help but wonder if we spend too much time joking and not enough building up the men in our lives. So many people do not have an involved husband, a present father, a male role model. And when we see those jokes about how guys are,well, it makes me think that maybe that is why. Because we joke and tease, but underneath that is a festering disagreement over who is better, men or women. And that is not encouraging to anyone, respectful to anyone, most of all those men who give up so much to care for their families. So, I want to pay a little tribute to the man in our house, the love of my life, my best friend, the father of my children. I want him, and you, and guys everywhere to know they are appreciated, loved, and respected. I may even gush a little, but it does come from my heart.
And so, here are the top ten reasons that my husband is the best. Maybe even the best ever. Each of these is a reason that I love my husband more today than the day we got married.
10. He cares about what is important to us. Example, the night that our power went out for seven hours overnight, in January, in Pennsylvania, he did everything he could to keep us all warm. He even saw Faith's concern about her gecko, and knowing that it would freeze in the house without heat, he put it in a small container and tucked it in his sleeping bag. All night long.
9. He provides for us. He works hard to provide all that we need. He is willing to do what he needs to so that I can stay home and care for and educate our children. And at times it is hard. At times he works more than he should have to, days on end. And at more than one job at a time. But we always have what we need. And a lot of what we want. Even when he chooses to go without.
8. He helps us because he wants to. He will work all day, and yet stand at the sink washing dishes with me at night. Or fixing supper. To be with me. Or coaching soccer, teaching Sunday School, getting to know the kid's friends. Taking hikes, bike rides, and doing "man crafts". Helping to dress Barbies, sitting down for tea, or knowing the lyrics to Selena Gomez. He is involved in everything he can be with each of us.
7. Every Saturday morning he wakes me up with coffee. Sometimes it is earlier than I would like, but it is to spend time with me.
6. I never have to carry a laundry basket. Or a sleeping child. And I have never had to carry a vacuum to a different floor of our house. He carries it, and then runs it for me. We live in a house with three flights of steps. I have never vacuumed those either. He does it before I can.
5. No matter how I look, how I feel, or how I am acting, I know that when he looks into my eyes and says that I am beautiful that he means it. From the bottom of his heart. And then I feel beautiful because he believes it and the look in his eyes when he says it tells me why.
4. I have been watching his magic and juggling show for almost 15 years. And he still dazzles me every time he is performing. Even when I have seen it for about a thousand times. Or know the secret. It is still magic.
3. He includes our children. He patiently explains things he is fixing. From painting the dining room to fixing the washing machine they are right there beside him. And not just the boys. He shows our girls how to fix stuff as well. He teaches them tricks to be in shows. He gives them little jobs so that Firefly is our family ministry, not just his show. And the pride in their eyes shows that they love to be included.
2. He can fix anything. If he does not know how to fix something, he learns how. From vacuums, to washing machines. From hot water heaters to cars. He keeps it going. And he is not afraid to call his dad for some guidance.
1. He lives his faith. He is exactly the same man at home as in public. He is the real deal. Praying with and for us, explaining Scriptures, telling stories to illustrate the right way to live, encouraging the children to not follow him, but to follow his Father. But I am confident that if they follow him, they will be following Jesus.
And so, here are the top ten reasons that my husband is the best. Maybe even the best ever. Each of these is a reason that I love my husband more today than the day we got married.
10. He cares about what is important to us. Example, the night that our power went out for seven hours overnight, in January, in Pennsylvania, he did everything he could to keep us all warm. He even saw Faith's concern about her gecko, and knowing that it would freeze in the house without heat, he put it in a small container and tucked it in his sleeping bag. All night long.
9. He provides for us. He works hard to provide all that we need. He is willing to do what he needs to so that I can stay home and care for and educate our children. And at times it is hard. At times he works more than he should have to, days on end. And at more than one job at a time. But we always have what we need. And a lot of what we want. Even when he chooses to go without.
8. He helps us because he wants to. He will work all day, and yet stand at the sink washing dishes with me at night. Or fixing supper. To be with me. Or coaching soccer, teaching Sunday School, getting to know the kid's friends. Taking hikes, bike rides, and doing "man crafts". Helping to dress Barbies, sitting down for tea, or knowing the lyrics to Selena Gomez. He is involved in everything he can be with each of us.
7. Every Saturday morning he wakes me up with coffee. Sometimes it is earlier than I would like, but it is to spend time with me.
6. I never have to carry a laundry basket. Or a sleeping child. And I have never had to carry a vacuum to a different floor of our house. He carries it, and then runs it for me. We live in a house with three flights of steps. I have never vacuumed those either. He does it before I can.
5. No matter how I look, how I feel, or how I am acting, I know that when he looks into my eyes and says that I am beautiful that he means it. From the bottom of his heart. And then I feel beautiful because he believes it and the look in his eyes when he says it tells me why.
4. I have been watching his magic and juggling show for almost 15 years. And he still dazzles me every time he is performing. Even when I have seen it for about a thousand times. Or know the secret. It is still magic.
3. He includes our children. He patiently explains things he is fixing. From painting the dining room to fixing the washing machine they are right there beside him. And not just the boys. He shows our girls how to fix stuff as well. He teaches them tricks to be in shows. He gives them little jobs so that Firefly is our family ministry, not just his show. And the pride in their eyes shows that they love to be included.
2. He can fix anything. If he does not know how to fix something, he learns how. From vacuums, to washing machines. From hot water heaters to cars. He keeps it going. And he is not afraid to call his dad for some guidance.
1. He lives his faith. He is exactly the same man at home as in public. He is the real deal. Praying with and for us, explaining Scriptures, telling stories to illustrate the right way to live, encouraging the children to not follow him, but to follow his Father. But I am confident that if they follow him, they will be following Jesus.
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