Every year on each of my children's birthdays I look through the baby book or scrapbook. Or pile of pictures that are going to become a scrapbook. Or pictures that someday I am going to actually print so I can pile them up and someday scrapbook them. And I am struck by how tiny they are. How much they have grown.
However, this year I was struck by a different thought while looking at pictures of my now ten year-old. I looked from his face, probably for the first time, to the face of the one holding him. The ten year-ago version of me. I noticed how young I looked. I turned back more pages. Yep. Even younger. More pages, same story. The whole way back to the first picture of a new, glowing, excited, exhausted mommy. And this time, instead of writing my sweet baby a letter for their birthday, I wished to reach out to her.
If I could, I would go back and tell her so much. I would tell her to relax. To enjoy. Oh, I know she knows that. I know that she made the most of everyday. She played. Laughed. Grasped each moment as best and as tightly as she could. But there was always more. Fear. Disappointment in herself. A struggle to know she was making the right choices. And there are so many, many choices. Everyday. Every child. Every minute. Sometimes she will feel like she is drowning in a sea of uncertainty.
Mostly, though, I would tell her that she is going to survive, because I know that she will not always feel like it or believe it.
There will be bumps and bruises. I know that she is going to drop her brand new baby at just a few days old from the couch in her exhaustion. She judges herself because she doesn't know how many mothers do that.
She will have to hold down a baby for testing. And a toddler. And a preschooler. And she will cry longer than they will. And she will remember it forever, even when they forget.
There will come a day that she is tired of being pregnant. And there will come a day that she wishes that she still was. And feeling either feeling is fine. And normal. And so are the tears. And one day, they will stop falling as hard. But they will still fall.
She is going to pace for hours overnight. She is going to pray in quite a few hospital rooms. She is going to meet more doctors than she can remember. She is going to stand in a hospital hallway while her heart is rolled away for surgery. More than once. And it will bring her to her knees. Literally. But she will breathe again.
She is going to hold more than one grubby hand while there are x-rays, stitches, staples, concussions, broken bones and close calls. And while it makes her queasy, she will not be sick.
There will be psychologists. Neurologists. Diagnoses. Autism. ADHD. But she will always know that she has the best children in the world.
Her husband will work away. At times far away. But he will be her rock. And she will need him so very much. And he will be there. And she may need to tell him why they fall, but he will dry her tears.
She will try to hold herself together through depression. And she will struggle to use her hand after a stroke. And she will get very angry when she misspeaks or stutters. But she will talk again. And she will use that hand again.
She will homeschool. And it will be fun. And exciting. And scary. And hard. And she will want to quit, but she won't. And it will be rewarding again. And even fun again. She is making the correct choice, but she won't always feel like it.
In that moment, in that snap shot of her young life, she is full of innocence. She does not know what the future holds. She does not know what is in store. And that is a good thing. Because it is overwhelming. At times it is unbearable. But it will make her strong. Stronger than she has ever been. Sometimes she won't even know it, but it is happening, everyday. Even this one.
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Friday, September 5, 2014
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Top Ten Reasons...
that I am the biggest meanie weenie ever. According to the children in my house.
10. I will not let Micah walk to Grandma's house. He is almost two. It is several blocks away. She is not home. I am a jerk.
9. I do not agree that a long sleeve shirt would make a person feel cooler than a short sleeve shirt. In the summer. I know nothing about fashion. I may be ruining a young life as we speak.
8. I will not let my children carry around a dying baby bird and try to feed it crunched up worms mixed with spit. They already started collecting the spit. And the worms. And the dying baby bird.
7. Breakfast is not cookies. Or ice cream. Or cake. And we have no cookies. Or cake.
6. I will not let Micah eat a play dough pizza. Or play dough cookies. Or play dough cake. Or even play dough lumpy thing.
5. I make the kids read, play, go outside, and get creative before turning on any electronics. Even in the summer. Even on rainy days. Even when they just charged an iPod.
4. I do not want a pet snake. I will not allow my children to have a pet snake. As a matter of fact, I have placed a hold on any new pets until we have quite a few less pets than we do now. Be that by rehoming, death, or escape. And even then, probably no snake. I just don't want to have to feed it like I do with all the other pets my kids (and husband) have.
3. No one is allowed to have soda for breakfast. I have no soda in the house. We have juice. Water. Milk. Tea. Kool aid. Hot chocolate. Those are all gross. I must not have taste buds. At all.
2. I toss broken toys. All of them. Even if Dad can do magic, preform surgery, or has enough super glue. They will break again. Kids will cry again. Like a band aid, the quicker the better, just toss it and get it over with. Especially when it is in five or more pieces, is missing a wheel, and only has one handlebar. And used to be a finger bicycle.
1. I will not let the size five and six kids wear size two costumes to go jump on the trampoline. Even if it is the only ninja costumes they can find. No, black pants and black shirts will not work the same. Even though they would cover more skin because they fit.
And that is all just from today. Before lunch. I should have a much larger list by bedtime.
10. I will not let Micah walk to Grandma's house. He is almost two. It is several blocks away. She is not home. I am a jerk.
9. I do not agree that a long sleeve shirt would make a person feel cooler than a short sleeve shirt. In the summer. I know nothing about fashion. I may be ruining a young life as we speak.
8. I will not let my children carry around a dying baby bird and try to feed it crunched up worms mixed with spit. They already started collecting the spit. And the worms. And the dying baby bird.
7. Breakfast is not cookies. Or ice cream. Or cake. And we have no cookies. Or cake.
6. I will not let Micah eat a play dough pizza. Or play dough cookies. Or play dough cake. Or even play dough lumpy thing.
5. I make the kids read, play, go outside, and get creative before turning on any electronics. Even in the summer. Even on rainy days. Even when they just charged an iPod.
4. I do not want a pet snake. I will not allow my children to have a pet snake. As a matter of fact, I have placed a hold on any new pets until we have quite a few less pets than we do now. Be that by rehoming, death, or escape. And even then, probably no snake. I just don't want to have to feed it like I do with all the other pets my kids (and husband) have.
3. No one is allowed to have soda for breakfast. I have no soda in the house. We have juice. Water. Milk. Tea. Kool aid. Hot chocolate. Those are all gross. I must not have taste buds. At all.
2. I toss broken toys. All of them. Even if Dad can do magic, preform surgery, or has enough super glue. They will break again. Kids will cry again. Like a band aid, the quicker the better, just toss it and get it over with. Especially when it is in five or more pieces, is missing a wheel, and only has one handlebar. And used to be a finger bicycle.
1. I will not let the size five and six kids wear size two costumes to go jump on the trampoline. Even if it is the only ninja costumes they can find. No, black pants and black shirts will not work the same. Even though they would cover more skin because they fit.
And that is all just from today. Before lunch. I should have a much larger list by bedtime.
Monday, December 31, 2012
A Year End Review
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!!
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!!
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.
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...
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.
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.
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!
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
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...
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.
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??
Monday, January 9, 2012
Memory Lane- 2011
I cannot believe how fast time is going. I will be saying that often, but it strikes me as true every time! As so many take this time of year as a period of reflection, I figured I may just join in on this Memory Lane Monday and give a brief run down on the past year and the changes in our family. As told through the pictures on Facebook, because I have no idea where I put last year's planner. Or this year's.
We kicked off 2011 in style at our house, with Mom,Dad, Josh, Tony, and Mariah. We had a great time, and the kids stayed up all night. Well, not David. He crashed way before the sun came up. However, I am pretty sure I am still finding the same glitter from the party poppers. We also had David's second birthday, a firefighter party. He got many new firefighter toys, including one to ride on! We also took a trip to what Faith calls Disneyland for nerds- the science center. Andy got to go this time! Which means we drove there and back without the ghetto side trip from the year before! We got to go sled riding at Mom's on a wonderfully snowy day.
In February we had a homeschool Valentine's Day party. We also began the task of moving the school room. We had the Rock-A-Thon at church. I think that was February. We kept trucking through school, making progress in our studies and with Faith. I had yet another class in math. And I lived.
March brought a new school room location, which was beneficial for all of us. We celebrated Pi day with all kinds of pie, like pizza, Boston Creme Pie, and Pi shaped cookies. We also celebrated St. Patrick's Day and Read Across America Day. There was lots of oobleck. And chocolate. Andy was inducted into Phi Theta Cappa. I was so proud, and we really enjoyed the day out.
Easter was back in April where it belongs. We took Firefly on the road to an Autism Awareness Fundraiser and a fundraiser to sent Betsy to Alaska. We took the kids to Chuck E Cheese as a reward for collecting good behavior tokens.
May brought warmer weather, weddings, playing outside, the Children's Theatre at CLP, and a fun Mother's Day outing. Any outing for which I do not have to cook is considered awesome. I also was given some nice gifts, and breakfast in bed. We ended May with a nice walk to the parade for Memorial Day.
June was very busy for us this year, like every other year. We had to finish school and get our evaluations. Isaac and I took a nice trip to Sandbox Camp, our last time! Tony graduated and we took our graduation trip to Hershey Park. VBS prep was in full swing, and I was busy writing the material. The SC Raehl's came for a visit. Faith was baptized. We hit the zoo and brought home an animal, I mean, Uncle Dave. Who did all kinds of crazy fun stuff, like take my kids bowling.
In July Faith turned 10! Now she is two handfuls! The girls went to Pony/ Swim camp. We had our Demi reunion, with a bouncy house. And the church picnic. And then VBS!
August began with a bang! VBS was a success. Andy had already been busy for most of the summer with shows and ride set ups, and that did not slow down. The only way I got to celebrate our anniversary was to tag along! We got away over night, but he had ride set ups and two shows. We tried to cram in so many things before starting school, like a trip to see the Wizard of Oz at CLP, a trip to Lakemont, and the Demi family camping trip.
September brought some great fun days as well. We have three birthdays to celebrate. We also discovered that David's hidden talent is looking like Rick Moranis. We started school and had an awesome opportunity to visit Kennywood.
October came super fast. We had Angel's birthday, a final bonfire at Mom's, fire prevention, and Halloween. There was snow for trick or treat, but that did not stop my kids. And there is still too much candy around here! My computer crashed and so did my washing machine, so Andy's dad had to travel this way to save the day. We took a trip to Bilger's Rocks. We also started a wonderful series of co-op classes and made some new home school friends. We had our family portraits taken.
November was a busy and challenging month for me. We lost Hope. We were finishing the dining room. I was bogged down with school for my self and the kids. Thanksgiving was very difficult for me, and I struggled for the first time in offering a sacrifice of praise to God. We still hit the Black Friday sales, and had much success there. We also started a youth group, beginning with a sleepover. The kids also went to a show with us, Angel doing her first face painting gig. The fireman's banquet was wonderful. And the Christmas parade was fun, but rainy.
It was a wonderful, terrible year. We struggled. We laughed. We cried. Most importantly we ended the year together. And the love we share, the love we have from God, has sustained us. We have been blessed beyond measure, despite any trials, and we have learn to choose to be thankful and choose to praise God in all things.
We kicked off 2011 in style at our house, with Mom,Dad, Josh, Tony, and Mariah. We had a great time, and the kids stayed up all night. Well, not David. He crashed way before the sun came up. However, I am pretty sure I am still finding the same glitter from the party poppers. We also had David's second birthday, a firefighter party. He got many new firefighter toys, including one to ride on! We also took a trip to what Faith calls Disneyland for nerds- the science center. Andy got to go this time! Which means we drove there and back without the ghetto side trip from the year before! We got to go sled riding at Mom's on a wonderfully snowy day.
In February we had a homeschool Valentine's Day party. We also began the task of moving the school room. We had the Rock-A-Thon at church. I think that was February. We kept trucking through school, making progress in our studies and with Faith. I had yet another class in math. And I lived.
March brought a new school room location, which was beneficial for all of us. We celebrated Pi day with all kinds of pie, like pizza, Boston Creme Pie, and Pi shaped cookies. We also celebrated St. Patrick's Day and Read Across America Day. There was lots of oobleck. And chocolate. Andy was inducted into Phi Theta Cappa. I was so proud, and we really enjoyed the day out.
Easter was back in April where it belongs. We took Firefly on the road to an Autism Awareness Fundraiser and a fundraiser to sent Betsy to Alaska. We took the kids to Chuck E Cheese as a reward for collecting good behavior tokens.
May brought warmer weather, weddings, playing outside, the Children's Theatre at CLP, and a fun Mother's Day outing. Any outing for which I do not have to cook is considered awesome. I also was given some nice gifts, and breakfast in bed. We ended May with a nice walk to the parade for Memorial Day.
June was very busy for us this year, like every other year. We had to finish school and get our evaluations. Isaac and I took a nice trip to Sandbox Camp, our last time! Tony graduated and we took our graduation trip to Hershey Park. VBS prep was in full swing, and I was busy writing the material. The SC Raehl's came for a visit. Faith was baptized. We hit the zoo and brought home an animal, I mean, Uncle Dave. Who did all kinds of crazy fun stuff, like take my kids bowling.
In July Faith turned 10! Now she is two handfuls! The girls went to Pony/ Swim camp. We had our Demi reunion, with a bouncy house. And the church picnic. And then VBS!
August began with a bang! VBS was a success. Andy had already been busy for most of the summer with shows and ride set ups, and that did not slow down. The only way I got to celebrate our anniversary was to tag along! We got away over night, but he had ride set ups and two shows. We tried to cram in so many things before starting school, like a trip to see the Wizard of Oz at CLP, a trip to Lakemont, and the Demi family camping trip.
September brought some great fun days as well. We have three birthdays to celebrate. We also discovered that David's hidden talent is looking like Rick Moranis. We started school and had an awesome opportunity to visit Kennywood.
October came super fast. We had Angel's birthday, a final bonfire at Mom's, fire prevention, and Halloween. There was snow for trick or treat, but that did not stop my kids. And there is still too much candy around here! My computer crashed and so did my washing machine, so Andy's dad had to travel this way to save the day. We took a trip to Bilger's Rocks. We also started a wonderful series of co-op classes and made some new home school friends. We had our family portraits taken.
November was a busy and challenging month for me. We lost Hope. We were finishing the dining room. I was bogged down with school for my self and the kids. Thanksgiving was very difficult for me, and I struggled for the first time in offering a sacrifice of praise to God. We still hit the Black Friday sales, and had much success there. We also started a youth group, beginning with a sleepover. The kids also went to a show with us, Angel doing her first face painting gig. The fireman's banquet was wonderful. And the Christmas parade was fun, but rainy.
It was a wonderful, terrible year. We struggled. We laughed. We cried. Most importantly we ended the year together. And the love we share, the love we have from God, has sustained us. We have been blessed beyond measure, despite any trials, and we have learn to choose to be thankful and choose to praise God in all things.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Thanksgiving
This year I am having a hard time realizing that tomorrow is Thanksgiving. It snuck up on me. I am very thankful for the blessings God has given me, my wonderful husband, my children, my home, my extended family. The fact that I live in a place where I am free to worship my God, to homeschool my children, to live in freedom.
And yet, I am also having a hard time this Thanksgiving. I am still too focused on the loss of our sweet Hope. Despite the brief time I had knowing that she was there, growing under my heart, in my heart, or perhaps because the time was too short, I find myself in despair often. Daily. Sometimes hourly. She never had the chance to meet the family who loves her so, her father who named her, her mother who prayed for her, her sisters and brothers who mourn her loss. We never had the chance to meet her, to hold her, to let her hear our voices. And yet, she is a part of me, of us.
At first I could do no more than lay on my couch and think about my loss. Those first days I had to force myself to shower, to dress, to eat, to sleep. Never mind cooking, cleaning, laundry, school. I have now been able to force myself to do more, but my heart is not in it yet. I will be laughing with my children, and know I will not have the chance to laugh with Hope. And I cry. I look at our family portrait, taken while I was pregnant, and I see an empty space. And I cry. I sing a song in church about the hope God has given us. And I cry. I lay my head on my pillow at night and my heart is heavy. So heavy. And I cry.
And I know that I have been given so much. That others have lost more. Are losing more. We need, I need, to choose to try and be thankful in all things. I can be thankful, as Faith put it tonight at dinner, that God gave us a blessing for a short while. We do not know why it was so short. We may never know why. Why is not really important. I am choosing to be thankful that Hope was placed with us, those who love her, even for a brief time, so that she would be loved. And loved deeply.
And yet, I am also having a hard time this Thanksgiving. I am still too focused on the loss of our sweet Hope. Despite the brief time I had knowing that she was there, growing under my heart, in my heart, or perhaps because the time was too short, I find myself in despair often. Daily. Sometimes hourly. She never had the chance to meet the family who loves her so, her father who named her, her mother who prayed for her, her sisters and brothers who mourn her loss. We never had the chance to meet her, to hold her, to let her hear our voices. And yet, she is a part of me, of us.
At first I could do no more than lay on my couch and think about my loss. Those first days I had to force myself to shower, to dress, to eat, to sleep. Never mind cooking, cleaning, laundry, school. I have now been able to force myself to do more, but my heart is not in it yet. I will be laughing with my children, and know I will not have the chance to laugh with Hope. And I cry. I look at our family portrait, taken while I was pregnant, and I see an empty space. And I cry. I sing a song in church about the hope God has given us. And I cry. I lay my head on my pillow at night and my heart is heavy. So heavy. And I cry.
And I know that I have been given so much. That others have lost more. Are losing more. We need, I need, to choose to try and be thankful in all things. I can be thankful, as Faith put it tonight at dinner, that God gave us a blessing for a short while. We do not know why it was so short. We may never know why. Why is not really important. I am choosing to be thankful that Hope was placed with us, those who love her, even for a brief time, so that she would be loved. And loved deeply.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Hope
This will be the hardest blog I have ever written. Please bear with me.
A few weeks ago, or an eternity ago, I cannot be certain, we found out we were expecting our fifth little blessing. From the moment I saw the little plus sign, I was in love. I began praying, planning, hoping, and dreaming.
And then this dream started. I dreamed that at my first doctor’s appointment I was told my sweet baby had passed away. And then there was a little baby girl, dressed in a pretty white dress. And then I wake up in tears. And the next night, same thing. And the next night.
I went to my doctor’s appointment with excitement, and trying to push my recurring dream from my mind. I sat in the waiting room trying to figure out how many hours I would have to stare at the same posters on the wall. And waiting for the test that would confirm that I was pregnant, give me a due date, and schedule my next appointment. I had taken enough home tests to know for sure, had already figured out that they would tell me June 28, 2012. I also figured that I would be having a baby in July because my babies are always late.
Instead, I was told that we lost our baby, our sweet little baby. From the moment I had seen those positive tests, that was my child. I no longer considered that I had four children, it was now five children. I was rearranging furniture, planning our summer around the new arrival, and figuring the seating arrangement in the van. This was not possible. I could not imagine that my dream, my nightmare had come true. I insisted on a blood test.
I called the whole way home about the results. As I was opening the door, the call came. Miscarriage. I argued with the nurse. Then a midwife. Then a doctor. And hung up mad that they would lie to me. Four tests, and two days later the truth sunk in.
My baby, my sweet child, would be one I never get to hold this side of heaven. Never even have an ultrasound picture, let alone a picture. No baby items, no memories, just a few weeks of hope. And a dream of a little baby girl in a white dress. And so, my husband decided that our baby should have a name. He choose Hope. Hope Elaine.
Because we had told everyone about our blessing, we now had to tell our children. And they would feel the loss hard as they had already been planning with me, excited to share their rooms, sitting by the baby in the van, and changing diapers. They all wanted to change a diaper.
We sat them down, empty handed, heavy hearted, and shared the news. And we cried. And we mourned. And we talked. And cried some more. And we all grieved that there was not going to be memories. Each of my children has a memory box full of the things they loved the most at different ages. And a journal that I write letters to my children on special days. They wanted to make Hope a memory box. And so we have a beautiful box with a rose print. And full of what my other children all thought Hope would like. There are letters and drawings. A Precious Moments boy that says a prayer form David. A Spiderman watch from Isaac. His favorite. A favorite stuffed unicorn from Faith. The Bible that Angel was given when she was born. A journal that Angel made. Two roses,one from each big sister to their little sister. A ring with footprints from my jewelry box. A tiny baby. They want to buy a little sister necklace for Hope for Christmas. And they are planning on releasing balloons for Hope on the day she was due~ June 28th.
We took our little box to my mothers. Each child had a memento to show off, a letter, a drawing. They built their own memories of a baby that they will never meet here on earth, but know they will see in heaven. And we cried. And prayed. And talked. And even laughed. Most importantly, we loved. We loved each other, and our sweet Hope.
For you see, every life, no matter how short, has a purpose. Is loved by God. Every one of my children is loved and cherished. From the moment they exist. By God. By me. And each will have a place in my heart forever.
A few weeks ago, or an eternity ago, I cannot be certain, we found out we were expecting our fifth little blessing. From the moment I saw the little plus sign, I was in love. I began praying, planning, hoping, and dreaming.
And then this dream started. I dreamed that at my first doctor’s appointment I was told my sweet baby had passed away. And then there was a little baby girl, dressed in a pretty white dress. And then I wake up in tears. And the next night, same thing. And the next night.
I went to my doctor’s appointment with excitement, and trying to push my recurring dream from my mind. I sat in the waiting room trying to figure out how many hours I would have to stare at the same posters on the wall. And waiting for the test that would confirm that I was pregnant, give me a due date, and schedule my next appointment. I had taken enough home tests to know for sure, had already figured out that they would tell me June 28, 2012. I also figured that I would be having a baby in July because my babies are always late.
Instead, I was told that we lost our baby, our sweet little baby. From the moment I had seen those positive tests, that was my child. I no longer considered that I had four children, it was now five children. I was rearranging furniture, planning our summer around the new arrival, and figuring the seating arrangement in the van. This was not possible. I could not imagine that my dream, my nightmare had come true. I insisted on a blood test.
I called the whole way home about the results. As I was opening the door, the call came. Miscarriage. I argued with the nurse. Then a midwife. Then a doctor. And hung up mad that they would lie to me. Four tests, and two days later the truth sunk in.
My baby, my sweet child, would be one I never get to hold this side of heaven. Never even have an ultrasound picture, let alone a picture. No baby items, no memories, just a few weeks of hope. And a dream of a little baby girl in a white dress. And so, my husband decided that our baby should have a name. He choose Hope. Hope Elaine.
Because we had told everyone about our blessing, we now had to tell our children. And they would feel the loss hard as they had already been planning with me, excited to share their rooms, sitting by the baby in the van, and changing diapers. They all wanted to change a diaper.
We sat them down, empty handed, heavy hearted, and shared the news. And we cried. And we mourned. And we talked. And cried some more. And we all grieved that there was not going to be memories. Each of my children has a memory box full of the things they loved the most at different ages. And a journal that I write letters to my children on special days. They wanted to make Hope a memory box. And so we have a beautiful box with a rose print. And full of what my other children all thought Hope would like. There are letters and drawings. A Precious Moments boy that says a prayer form David. A Spiderman watch from Isaac. His favorite. A favorite stuffed unicorn from Faith. The Bible that Angel was given when she was born. A journal that Angel made. Two roses,one from each big sister to their little sister. A ring with footprints from my jewelry box. A tiny baby. They want to buy a little sister necklace for Hope for Christmas. And they are planning on releasing balloons for Hope on the day she was due~ June 28th.
We took our little box to my mothers. Each child had a memento to show off, a letter, a drawing. They built their own memories of a baby that they will never meet here on earth, but know they will see in heaven. And we cried. And prayed. And talked. And even laughed. Most importantly, we loved. We loved each other, and our sweet Hope.
For you see, every life, no matter how short, has a purpose. Is loved by God. Every one of my children is loved and cherished. From the moment they exist. By God. By me. And each will have a place in my heart forever.
“Praise You In This Storm”
I was sure by now
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”, and it’s still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
And I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can’t find You
But as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”, and it’s still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
And I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can’t find You
But as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Never Say Normal
After almost a year of not really going anywhere in order to get things under control in our family, we have been getting out and about a little more now. I knew we could not stay home forever, but I am tired. Physically, emotionally, and at times spiritually. So many times we have started out somewhere only to have to turn back home over mud, lights, noise, itchy clothes, or some other seemingly small issue.
Now is the time, however, to gradually make our way back into things. In recent weeks I have been taking the kids shopping with me again. We have gone to several stores, at times even several in the same day. We have gone to restaurants, even new ones. We have gone to the public pool, amusement parks, and libraries.
Things seem better now, but I think it is not the situations, the locations, or the people we run into. I think it may be that I have come to grips with our lives and the seeming lack of normalcy. I have decided that we need to do what we need to do regardless of the reactions or comments of the people around us. I have prepared in advance for situations we may be facing when we go out. Diaper bag with extra clothes for the potty training toddler. Sippy cup. Snacks. Ear plugs. Water. A dark hoodie. And some extra patience. My normal supply of patience only runs deep enough to cover my children and my husband. I have to pack a bit extra to cover all those people who do not understand why the nine year old rides in the buggy and the toddler walks. Why my daughter flaps, licks things, and bangs her head. Why my toddler is repeating the same phrase, same tone, the whole way through the store. Why my son acts as those rocket fuel runs through his veins.
Today we walked to a “new” restaurant. And went to the store. Without Andy. My children are children. They are loud when you want them to be quiet. They find things funny that seem gross to adults. They play all the time. And they are also a little more. Angel wore a head scarf and sunglasses, picture Jackie O., and I am pretty sure it was in case we ran into anyone we know. Faith brought everything that makes her feel comfortable in a new location- her purse filled with Pet Shops and Squinkies, ear plugs, an eye mask. and water and a snack in case she did not like the food. Isaac never sits still, but did pretty well today. We had to start out the door twice, though. The first time he forgot his pants. David went to the bathroom four times before our food arrived. Then he had an accident in the stroller on the way home. He also repeatedly, and loudly, insisted it is Christmas time because there was a red star on the wall. So most of his conversation was scripting from The Nightmare Before Christmas.
The restaurant was not too bad at first. We were the only ones there. Then three more tables filled up. Waitresses always treat us like we have the plague. The place was new to us. The music was a little loud. The food was good, but the fries were homemade, so Faith was rocking in her chair, beginning to get overwhelmed. David was insisting that it was Christmas night, and doing so in song. Isaac could not sit still. I could begin to see the other diners looking at us. And in those times I wish that I had a shirt that says “Don’t expect normal, because we are so over that!”
We went to the store. David wanted a dragon bracelet. I said yes. He asked for it for the entire half hour we were in the store. “Can I pay for this? Can I pay for this? Can I pay for this?” I stop answering after about three, because I know he is no longer talking to me. But other people do not know that. Faith got excited over a toy. Arms flapping, quoting the commercial. Very loud. And again, other customers stare.
At the check out Angel took David, who was still saying “Can I pay for this?”, out to ride a monster truck ride. I gave Faith and Isaac some quarters. As I was finished paying Isaac carried bags, Faith put the buggy back, and the man behind us, who had been looking at us all through the store spoke. “Nice family you have there. I like how they look after each other and help out. Don’t see that too often anymore.”
I looked around, making sure he was talking to us. We normally get ignored, or get told to discipline our children more. I have been told that a swift smack to one of my children will solve our “problems”. He was looking right at me and smiling. I said thank you, and left as Isaac held the door for us. As the door was closing, I heard him say to the cashier, “Those children are so well behaved.” I was amazed.
Sure, it was a challenge. I was exhausted. Taking them out can be draining. I often say it is like taking goats with me. Except my kids are louder. And people expect goats to chew, lick, kick, and generally have goat like behavior. Children, not so much. But I felt that the children did very well. And so did some random guy. And as we walked home, the kids stepping in puddles so their shoes could squeak like ducks, David saying “I paid for that”, I was very thankful for the afternoon of enjoying my children.
Now is the time, however, to gradually make our way back into things. In recent weeks I have been taking the kids shopping with me again. We have gone to several stores, at times even several in the same day. We have gone to restaurants, even new ones. We have gone to the public pool, amusement parks, and libraries.
Things seem better now, but I think it is not the situations, the locations, or the people we run into. I think it may be that I have come to grips with our lives and the seeming lack of normalcy. I have decided that we need to do what we need to do regardless of the reactions or comments of the people around us. I have prepared in advance for situations we may be facing when we go out. Diaper bag with extra clothes for the potty training toddler. Sippy cup. Snacks. Ear plugs. Water. A dark hoodie. And some extra patience. My normal supply of patience only runs deep enough to cover my children and my husband. I have to pack a bit extra to cover all those people who do not understand why the nine year old rides in the buggy and the toddler walks. Why my daughter flaps, licks things, and bangs her head. Why my toddler is repeating the same phrase, same tone, the whole way through the store. Why my son acts as those rocket fuel runs through his veins.
Today we walked to a “new” restaurant. And went to the store. Without Andy. My children are children. They are loud when you want them to be quiet. They find things funny that seem gross to adults. They play all the time. And they are also a little more. Angel wore a head scarf and sunglasses, picture Jackie O., and I am pretty sure it was in case we ran into anyone we know. Faith brought everything that makes her feel comfortable in a new location- her purse filled with Pet Shops and Squinkies, ear plugs, an eye mask. and water and a snack in case she did not like the food. Isaac never sits still, but did pretty well today. We had to start out the door twice, though. The first time he forgot his pants. David went to the bathroom four times before our food arrived. Then he had an accident in the stroller on the way home. He also repeatedly, and loudly, insisted it is Christmas time because there was a red star on the wall. So most of his conversation was scripting from The Nightmare Before Christmas.
The restaurant was not too bad at first. We were the only ones there. Then three more tables filled up. Waitresses always treat us like we have the plague. The place was new to us. The music was a little loud. The food was good, but the fries were homemade, so Faith was rocking in her chair, beginning to get overwhelmed. David was insisting that it was Christmas night, and doing so in song. Isaac could not sit still. I could begin to see the other diners looking at us. And in those times I wish that I had a shirt that says “Don’t expect normal, because we are so over that!”
We went to the store. David wanted a dragon bracelet. I said yes. He asked for it for the entire half hour we were in the store. “Can I pay for this? Can I pay for this? Can I pay for this?” I stop answering after about three, because I know he is no longer talking to me. But other people do not know that. Faith got excited over a toy. Arms flapping, quoting the commercial. Very loud. And again, other customers stare.
At the check out Angel took David, who was still saying “Can I pay for this?”, out to ride a monster truck ride. I gave Faith and Isaac some quarters. As I was finished paying Isaac carried bags, Faith put the buggy back, and the man behind us, who had been looking at us all through the store spoke. “Nice family you have there. I like how they look after each other and help out. Don’t see that too often anymore.”
I looked around, making sure he was talking to us. We normally get ignored, or get told to discipline our children more. I have been told that a swift smack to one of my children will solve our “problems”. He was looking right at me and smiling. I said thank you, and left as Isaac held the door for us. As the door was closing, I heard him say to the cashier, “Those children are so well behaved.” I was amazed.
Sure, it was a challenge. I was exhausted. Taking them out can be draining. I often say it is like taking goats with me. Except my kids are louder. And people expect goats to chew, lick, kick, and generally have goat like behavior. Children, not so much. But I felt that the children did very well. And so did some random guy. And as we walked home, the kids stepping in puddles so their shoes could squeak like ducks, David saying “I paid for that”, I was very thankful for the afternoon of enjoying my children.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Like Father, Like Son: The Concussion Chronicles
For sure all of you are thinking that I am the Concussion Queen, and yes, that is true. And some of that will make a great blog that I shall write later. But for those of you who hang out here on a regular basis, which is pretty much Sarah and Anna, you have probably seen my husband hit his head. On everything in our house. It happens often, and usually goes something like this:
BAM
Me: “What was that noise?”
Andy:*grumbles*
Me: “What?” Because if that was not a kid, I am so not getting up…
Andy: “…..”
Me: “You hit your head again, didn’t you?”
Andy: “Umm……”
Me: “BWHAHAHAHA….I mean, are you OK?” Note my deep, deep sympathy.
We have that conversation almost daily. Pipes in the man room, that low ceiling as you go into the basement, open cupboard doors, open other doors, the shelf that keeps getting knocked out of the fridge, and, more recently, the wall, have all fallen victim to my husband’s forehead. So far he is on the losing end. Now he never gets a concussion, just a bruise, scrape, or a cut. But he passed his awkward-headed-ness on to poor David.
At first I blamed the head bumping on toddler hood. Every toddler I have ever know has tried the walk under the table trick when slightly too tall. Or misjudged and bumped his or her head when trying to jump up on someone or something. Or even the pew diving escape route from church has caused a few bruises in each of my children. And the parent or uncle who attempts to stop them.
David has all that down to an art and still he hits his head. Bending over by his toy shelf he misjudges how close he is standing and hits his head on the way down. And then on the way back up. Walking onto the back porch he hits his head on the railing. He frequently opens the door so that he gets hit by the door knob. He pulls, pushes, or knocks things over on his head. Occasionally the bump is a bit much and he starts getting a bit loopy.
The first time he had a concussion he tried to jump off an wooden swing. He succeeded in the jumping part, just not the getting off the swing the whole way part. He got dumped on the ground and the swing hit him in the back of the head. He fell into the mud, which to him was way worse than the bump on the head. We attempted to handle this like we normally do: an Iron Man ice pack, some hugs and chocolate. Then he started staggering around, said no to the chocolate, fell over a few times, and began talking nonsense. It was not until he kept asking who turned off the sun because he could not see that I became worried and took him to the ER. One CT scan, two orange Popsicles, some ibuprofen, a band aid and three hours later we were back at home. No sweat. The youngest of four has not thrown us something we have not handled before for at least a year.
Fast forward two months. Several small head bumps, bruises, skinned knees, and attempts to defy death later we get a second bump that sends us traipsing to the ER. I decided, against all other cautionary tales of my exercise mayhem that it would be a good idea to begin to enjoy family bike rides now that Faith and Isaac are getting good at riding their bikes without training wheels. First family trip: the park. We grab some water, jump on bikes, and head out. Angel, Faith, Isaac and I are riding, and David is relaxing in what he calls his rom-pom-pommer, but what normal people call a toddler seat, on the back of my bike. After a few blocks the kids start getting overconfident, and I have to admit I did too. They start weaving back and forth in front of me and one of them hits my front tire. My bike came to an abrupt halt and the back end, rom-pom-pommer, David and all fly into the air and land on the ground. David’s head hit first. It was kind of like that creepy nursery rhyme, Rock A Bye Baby.
Anyway, after untangling all the bikes, kids, and myself, we got David our of the pommer and his head was gushing blood. A few passersby took notice and came to our aid. I figured this was like every other bump on the head, but with more blood and embedded gravel, until David leaped out of my arms into the arms of some random guy and hung to him for dear life. He was screaming, “Daddy, you are here!” Over and over. Then a lady came and brought him paper towels, a Popsicle, and an ice pack. David said, “Thanks Grandma!” Then he proceed to shimmy away from “Daddy” stagger around and fall on his head. He proceeded to talking nonsense and falling over several times while trying to get away from me to “Daddy” until my mom got there to take us home. I had called out doctor and he recommended the hospital. Again.
.
We came home, picked up the kids, tracked down our bikes, and in the meanwhile David fell asleep in the van. We rode our bikes home, and as Andy was pulling the van into the driveway, David opened his eyes, looked right at me and asked for a ride in his rom-pom-pommer.
BAM
Me: “What was that noise?”
Andy:*grumbles*
Me: “What?” Because if that was not a kid, I am so not getting up…
Andy: “…..”
Me: “You hit your head again, didn’t you?”
Andy: “Umm……”
Me: “BWHAHAHAHA….I mean, are you OK?” Note my deep, deep sympathy.
We have that conversation almost daily. Pipes in the man room, that low ceiling as you go into the basement, open cupboard doors, open other doors, the shelf that keeps getting knocked out of the fridge, and, more recently, the wall, have all fallen victim to my husband’s forehead. So far he is on the losing end. Now he never gets a concussion, just a bruise, scrape, or a cut. But he passed his awkward-headed-ness on to poor David.
At first I blamed the head bumping on toddler hood. Every toddler I have ever know has tried the walk under the table trick when slightly too tall. Or misjudged and bumped his or her head when trying to jump up on someone or something. Or even the pew diving escape route from church has caused a few bruises in each of my children. And the parent or uncle who attempts to stop them.
David has all that down to an art and still he hits his head. Bending over by his toy shelf he misjudges how close he is standing and hits his head on the way down. And then on the way back up. Walking onto the back porch he hits his head on the railing. He frequently opens the door so that he gets hit by the door knob. He pulls, pushes, or knocks things over on his head. Occasionally the bump is a bit much and he starts getting a bit loopy.
The first time he had a concussion he tried to jump off an wooden swing. He succeeded in the jumping part, just not the getting off the swing the whole way part. He got dumped on the ground and the swing hit him in the back of the head. He fell into the mud, which to him was way worse than the bump on the head. We attempted to handle this like we normally do: an Iron Man ice pack, some hugs and chocolate. Then he started staggering around, said no to the chocolate, fell over a few times, and began talking nonsense. It was not until he kept asking who turned off the sun because he could not see that I became worried and took him to the ER. One CT scan, two orange Popsicles, some ibuprofen, a band aid and three hours later we were back at home. No sweat. The youngest of four has not thrown us something we have not handled before for at least a year.
Fast forward two months. Several small head bumps, bruises, skinned knees, and attempts to defy death later we get a second bump that sends us traipsing to the ER. I decided, against all other cautionary tales of my exercise mayhem that it would be a good idea to begin to enjoy family bike rides now that Faith and Isaac are getting good at riding their bikes without training wheels. First family trip: the park. We grab some water, jump on bikes, and head out. Angel, Faith, Isaac and I are riding, and David is relaxing in what he calls his rom-pom-pommer, but what normal people call a toddler seat, on the back of my bike. After a few blocks the kids start getting overconfident, and I have to admit I did too. They start weaving back and forth in front of me and one of them hits my front tire. My bike came to an abrupt halt and the back end, rom-pom-pommer, David and all fly into the air and land on the ground. David’s head hit first. It was kind of like that creepy nursery rhyme, Rock A Bye Baby.
Anyway, after untangling all the bikes, kids, and myself, we got David our of the pommer and his head was gushing blood. A few passersby took notice and came to our aid. I figured this was like every other bump on the head, but with more blood and embedded gravel, until David leaped out of my arms into the arms of some random guy and hung to him for dear life. He was screaming, “Daddy, you are here!” Over and over. Then a lady came and brought him paper towels, a Popsicle, and an ice pack. David said, “Thanks Grandma!” Then he proceed to shimmy away from “Daddy” stagger around and fall on his head. He proceeded to talking nonsense and falling over several times while trying to get away from me to “Daddy” until my mom got there to take us home. I had called out doctor and he recommended the hospital. Again.
.
We came home, picked up the kids, tracked down our bikes, and in the meanwhile David fell asleep in the van. We rode our bikes home, and as Andy was pulling the van into the driveway, David opened his eyes, looked right at me and asked for a ride in his rom-pom-pommer.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Great Expectations
All those years ago on the beginning of our homeschooling journey I had a set of expectations. They are currently at war with the reality of my life.
I pictured long nature walks. Sitting by the fire while I read great books and we all sip hot chocolate. Field trips to museums, plays, concerts, zoos, and gardens. Vacations in the off season. When book work was necessary I pictured the kids at desks with pencils and stickers. Baking cookies, preparing for holidays, setting the table with the kids in their little aprons bustling around helping out. There was a bit of glitter and some fairy dust sprinkled in the air.
And reality comes crashing in. There are whole days blocked for school work when I spend more time picking dice out of noses with tweezers than reading. I am on a first name basis with several workers at poison control. There is never a sharpened pencil to be found and the pencil sharpener, my nice, new, electric pencil sharpener, has paper jammed in it. I have two children who have either stabbed or cut up their desk chairs. If we get to go on a walk we take hours to get ready, have to pack a lunch, take extra clothes, and can not find any left shoes. When we do leave someone is always missing a necessary article of clothing. Many field trip venues are enjoyed by my crew, but none quietly or calmly. And there literally is glitter sprinkled everywhere. And cereal.
With my husband I knew that life would be an adventure. The adventure we are on is not quite the one I had pictured. There are days when I feel that instead of children I am herding goats. Stinky, smelly, messy, odd-stuff-eating goats. I literally have butt prints on my bathroom mirror. Footprints on the walls. Something orange stuck to half of the blankets in the house. The dirty laundry is taller than me, and we have an entire couch filled with folded clothes. We do not have gourmet meals because I am not very kitchen-y. That has rubbed off on all of my children.
I get stressed out, overwhelmed, and overworked. And then this happens:
I pictured long nature walks. Sitting by the fire while I read great books and we all sip hot chocolate. Field trips to museums, plays, concerts, zoos, and gardens. Vacations in the off season. When book work was necessary I pictured the kids at desks with pencils and stickers. Baking cookies, preparing for holidays, setting the table with the kids in their little aprons bustling around helping out. There was a bit of glitter and some fairy dust sprinkled in the air.
And reality comes crashing in. There are whole days blocked for school work when I spend more time picking dice out of noses with tweezers than reading. I am on a first name basis with several workers at poison control. There is never a sharpened pencil to be found and the pencil sharpener, my nice, new, electric pencil sharpener, has paper jammed in it. I have two children who have either stabbed or cut up their desk chairs. If we get to go on a walk we take hours to get ready, have to pack a lunch, take extra clothes, and can not find any left shoes. When we do leave someone is always missing a necessary article of clothing. Many field trip venues are enjoyed by my crew, but none quietly or calmly. And there literally is glitter sprinkled everywhere. And cereal.
With my husband I knew that life would be an adventure. The adventure we are on is not quite the one I had pictured. There are days when I feel that instead of children I am herding goats. Stinky, smelly, messy, odd-stuff-eating goats. I literally have butt prints on my bathroom mirror. Footprints on the walls. Something orange stuck to half of the blankets in the house. The dirty laundry is taller than me, and we have an entire couch filled with folded clothes. We do not have gourmet meals because I am not very kitchen-y. That has rubbed off on all of my children.
I get stressed out, overwhelmed, and overworked. And then this happens:
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Change-R-Us
We are in the middle of a remodeling project. I say middle with much optimism. Very much optimism. We are pulling up carpeting, ripping off wall paper, sanding wood work and installing a light in the living room. For the first time in my married life I will have a living room light. Now, of course, when I say we I really mean Andy is doing the “work” kind of work. I am doing the “picking paint colors kind of work”, and let me tell you, that is hard!
By the completion of the project we will have refinished the hardwood floors in the dining room, both living rooms and the hallway. There will be fresh paint in the same rooms. And the furniture will be in the room it belongs in. Unlike our current random couch placement. Or book towers in every room. Or chairs in odd corners.
More than the work work, the picking colors work, the moving furniture work (also not me), the hardest part has been with Faith. She has a very hard time with change, which we know is a part of her Asperger’s Syndrome. Knowing where it comes from only helps us to understand. It does not make it easier for her or for us. She has a fit over each layer of wall paper. Each section of carpeting. Each knocked out section of drywall. Each ceiling block that is removed. Every strip of carpet tacks, which she calls carpet attacks and is waiting for them to, well, to attack.
We are also working on switching bedrooms to spilt up the girls. Which starts with getting rid of toys to move the toy room to a smaller room. My bedroom to the attic. The boys to my room. Faith to the boys room. And Angel gets to stay put and spread out a bit. And that way no one is in Faith’s space. But until then our entire house is in upheaval. Except for the bathrooms. They get to stay the same and are too small to store things in. The kitchen is not getting changed. Yet. But it has a nice corner for storing books in boxes. Or furniture. Or ladders.
Our whole house is like that Bert and Ernie book about how the fish ended up in Bert’s favorite cowboy hat. And yes, I do have a book for everything. I think that one is under the china cupboard.
By the completion of the project we will have refinished the hardwood floors in the dining room, both living rooms and the hallway. There will be fresh paint in the same rooms. And the furniture will be in the room it belongs in. Unlike our current random couch placement. Or book towers in every room. Or chairs in odd corners.
More than the work work, the picking colors work, the moving furniture work (also not me), the hardest part has been with Faith. She has a very hard time with change, which we know is a part of her Asperger’s Syndrome. Knowing where it comes from only helps us to understand. It does not make it easier for her or for us. She has a fit over each layer of wall paper. Each section of carpeting. Each knocked out section of drywall. Each ceiling block that is removed. Every strip of carpet tacks, which she calls carpet attacks and is waiting for them to, well, to attack.
We are also working on switching bedrooms to spilt up the girls. Which starts with getting rid of toys to move the toy room to a smaller room. My bedroom to the attic. The boys to my room. Faith to the boys room. And Angel gets to stay put and spread out a bit. And that way no one is in Faith’s space. But until then our entire house is in upheaval. Except for the bathrooms. They get to stay the same and are too small to store things in. The kitchen is not getting changed. Yet. But it has a nice corner for storing books in boxes. Or furniture. Or ladders.
Our whole house is like that Bert and Ernie book about how the fish ended up in Bert’s favorite cowboy hat. And yes, I do have a book for everything. I think that one is under the china cupboard.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Creationary or Bust! Mostly Bust...
Andy bought the game Lego Creationary. Or what I lovingly call the game that makes me look like an idiot. It is just like Pictionary. But with Legos instead of the pen and paper I already have an epic fail using. I played for about an hour today with Faith and Isaac. Isaac went first and built a gas pump that looked like a gas pump. It even had buttons and a hose. Faith went next and built a church with a steeple and a guy holding a square Bible walking in the door. I took my turn and built a banana that looked like a yellow rectangle with some brown on top. Isaac built a canoe with a man riding in it. Faith built a red T Rex with moving jaws. I built a car that looked like a red rectangle with wheels on bottom. Isaac built a light house. On a rocky beach. He even put on a white speck for a seashell. Faith built a wavy snake with a forked tongue and working jaws. I built a lawn mower that looked suspiciously like my car with smaller wheels and a handle on top.
As the next round was about to begin I excused myself before I could be furtherhumiliated myself, er, to go make supper. As I left the room Faith called me back. She said “Mommy, don’t feel bad. You did real good for a beginner. And there are lots of things you can do that other people can’t. Umm, like, laundry. Those times you do laundry you do it real good.” And that is supposed to make me feel better?
That’s it. Next game night I am going to play with David. I can’t beat Faith and Isaac at Legos. I can not beat Angel at Yahtzee. Or Wii bowling. Or Uno. But David can beat me at Candy Land without me looking like a loser. It may even look like I let him win.
As the next round was about to begin I excused myself before I could be further
That’s it. Next game night I am going to play with David. I can’t beat Faith and Isaac at Legos. I can not beat Angel at Yahtzee. Or Wii bowling. Or Uno. But David can beat me at Candy Land without me looking like a loser. It may even look like I let him win.
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