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.
Friday, December 28, 2012
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.
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