Week of Lasts
And here we find ourselves.. the dreaded week of lasts.
Last Monday we'll sleep in..
Last time the boys will play all day in our pool.
Last time the morning will begin with "Hey! Do you want to go catch toads?" followed by "Yeah! Then ride bikes?" "YEAH!" before they even have pants on or eaten their Wheaties (or Rice Krispies..)
Last library story time.
Last time I'll get groceries with all 3 kids in the cart, leaving hardly any room for the things I "need".
Last time I'll have help unloading the dishwasher during the day.
Last time for lunch picnics on the deck.
Last time the boys argue over which song to listen to in the car - "D-I-S-C-O" or "Pop Goes the Weasel" are the current debates.
Last time I wake up to giggling boys "sneaking" up to my room to wake me by pouncing a baby kitty (or 8) on my bed.
Last time I'll contemplate if 10 AM is too early for nap time...
Oh I know these things will happen again.. There are school breaks, Christmas break, and of course weekends.. sweet, glorious weekends... But it's just never the same. It's hard to compete with these every day carefree, seemingly never ending days of summer.
All these 'lasts' have been making my heavy heart painfully aware of the steady passing of time. The evidence is everywhere. The outgrown sneakers haphazardly tossed in a pile on the porch, the faded muddy handprint on the door from last spring that has just been too cute to scrub off ever since, the swapping out of baby swings to big boy swings, trikes to bikes, and fat bats with plastic balls to metal bats and real baseballs. My babies are growing up. The evidence surrounds me, nearly suffocating me at times.
It's the fear of the unknown that is tugging at my heart the most. The unknown ways in which the boys will change between this summer and next.
What if Charlie outgrows his toad obsession? (not likely.. but still)
What if Nolan figures out that Captain Blackbeard really doesn't sneak into our house at night and during naptimes to leave them surprises or hide their snacks with a trail of "gold" leading to them?
What if the boys are too old for the same story time we've been going to every single Friday for the entire 3 years we've lived here? (Ok.. I think they already are technically too old, but I rationalize that since we're the only ones who have faithfully been there since Day 1, we've basically been grandfathered in.. right?)
What if they're not entertained for hours by the simplicity of baby kitties?
What if the boys decide they don't want to play basketballsoccerfootballwrestling in the kitchen while I'm tripping over them trying to make supper anymore?
What if Nolan thinks Curious George and The Cat in the Hat are 'baby' shows next year?
What if our pool is too small for them to enjoy so much?
What if they don't find joy in riding their Gator around all afternoon, picking me those annoying white "flowers" growing all over our yard?
What if they think they are old enough to have an opinion on wanting to *gasp* cut their hair short?
What if they're too old for the kiddie rides at the fair?
and the most devastating...
What if they grow out of being Best Buds?
All these "what if's" have been creeping into my mind and invading my thoughts this week. They have been staring me in the face, taunting me, teasing me, threatening to take away my joy and contentment during this precious last week of summer freedom with my boys.
Until I realized.. I have faced this before. I have conquered this before. It's really not so different than what I have already been through with Ella. The fear of the unknown. That difficult place between here and a distant 'then.' When you know all the things you hope and plan to happen aren't necessarily the things that are going to happen. Where you know the destination you want to arrive at, but the road map is nothing more than a blurry gray ink blot.
I am thankful for the lessons Ella's life has taught me this past year. We cannot dwell too much on the past, nor can worrying about our unknown future change anything.
We only have today. We only have right now. To live. To enjoy. To love.
To spend wistful days surrounded by the ones we love, enjoying God's blessings and reveling in His goodness.
Last Monday we'll sleep in..
Last time the boys will play all day in our pool.
Last time the morning will begin with "Hey! Do you want to go catch toads?" followed by "Yeah! Then ride bikes?" "YEAH!" before they even have pants on or eaten their Wheaties (or Rice Krispies..)
Last library story time.
Last time I'll get groceries with all 3 kids in the cart, leaving hardly any room for the things I "need".
Last time I'll have help unloading the dishwasher during the day.
Last time for lunch picnics on the deck.
Last time the boys argue over which song to listen to in the car - "D-I-S-C-O" or "Pop Goes the Weasel" are the current debates.
Last time I wake up to giggling boys "sneaking" up to my room to wake me by pouncing a baby kitty (or 8) on my bed.
Last time I'll contemplate if 10 AM is too early for nap time...
Oh I know these things will happen again.. There are school breaks, Christmas break, and of course weekends.. sweet, glorious weekends... But it's just never the same. It's hard to compete with these every day carefree, seemingly never ending days of summer.
All these 'lasts' have been making my heavy heart painfully aware of the steady passing of time. The evidence is everywhere. The outgrown sneakers haphazardly tossed in a pile on the porch, the faded muddy handprint on the door from last spring that has just been too cute to scrub off ever since, the swapping out of baby swings to big boy swings, trikes to bikes, and fat bats with plastic balls to metal bats and real baseballs. My babies are growing up. The evidence surrounds me, nearly suffocating me at times.
It's the fear of the unknown that is tugging at my heart the most. The unknown ways in which the boys will change between this summer and next.
What if Charlie outgrows his toad obsession? (not likely.. but still)
What if Nolan figures out that Captain Blackbeard really doesn't sneak into our house at night and during naptimes to leave them surprises or hide their snacks with a trail of "gold" leading to them?
What if the boys are too old for the same story time we've been going to every single Friday for the entire 3 years we've lived here? (Ok.. I think they already are technically too old, but I rationalize that since we're the only ones who have faithfully been there since Day 1, we've basically been grandfathered in.. right?)
What if they're not entertained for hours by the simplicity of baby kitties?
What if the boys decide they don't want to play basketballsoccerfootballwrestling in the kitchen while I'm tripping over them trying to make supper anymore?
What if Nolan thinks Curious George and The Cat in the Hat are 'baby' shows next year?
What if our pool is too small for them to enjoy so much?
What if they don't find joy in riding their Gator around all afternoon, picking me those annoying white "flowers" growing all over our yard?
What if they think they are old enough to have an opinion on wanting to *gasp* cut their hair short?
What if they're too old for the kiddie rides at the fair?
and the most devastating...
What if they grow out of being Best Buds?
All these "what if's" have been creeping into my mind and invading my thoughts this week. They have been staring me in the face, taunting me, teasing me, threatening to take away my joy and contentment during this precious last week of summer freedom with my boys.
Until I realized.. I have faced this before. I have conquered this before. It's really not so different than what I have already been through with Ella. The fear of the unknown. That difficult place between here and a distant 'then.' When you know all the things you hope and plan to happen aren't necessarily the things that are going to happen. Where you know the destination you want to arrive at, but the road map is nothing more than a blurry gray ink blot.
I am thankful for the lessons Ella's life has taught me this past year. We cannot dwell too much on the past, nor can worrying about our unknown future change anything.
We only have today. We only have right now. To live. To enjoy. To love.
To spend wistful days surrounded by the ones we love, enjoying God's blessings and reveling in His goodness.
So we do what we do...
Preparing for the future
Yet living for today.
Just a Little Different
The other week my husband and I were out in the garden custom designing a cute little fence for our fresh peas to grow along. Okay.. not really. We were grinding down old cattle panels to slap together so our weeds peas wouldn't fall over. But anyways... I was in charge of singling the fencing posts out of the treasure scrap pile down by the barn that would be used and then hauling them up to the garden. Of course I wanted the strong, sturdy looking ones (those weeds looked pretty menacing) and preferable kinda-sorta-straight, so the fence stood up a little better.
I was carefully selecting the chosen fence posts, stacking them in a nice, neat little pile, when I suddenly realized that I was subconsciously avoiding the posts with little ribs in them. The best I can explain them is they looked like a screw, with all the little spirals going down the entire length. When I looked at the posts I had, they were all smooth and uniform. They were the same. The others were.. they were.. different.
I tried to push the thought out of my mind. "It's fine," I told myself as I started toward the garden, my tidy little stack of uniform posts in tow, now painfully aware that I was intentionally ignoring the fence posts that were different. I was very mindfully and purposefully avoiding them. I hauled a load up to the garden, but as much as I tried, I just couldn't get my very own, very hypocritical thoughts out of my head.
You see, my own daughter is what some might call "different." She has a rare genetic condition called Cornelia De Lange Syndrome (CdLS), which affects her growth and development. We don't know exactly what the future holds for her, but we are facing the very real possibility that it will be "different" that what we once dreamed.
And we're okay with that.
I thought about her and the type of world I want her to grow up in, yet I still tried to rationalize it away..
they're just fence posts.. right???
They're not people. They don't have feelings. No one is going to know that I left the ribbed ones down by the barn and used only the standard, select "chosen ones" for my garden. Just because I don't want my fence posts to look different doesn't mean I'm not okay with my daughter being different...
Does it?
As I trudged slowly down to the barn for more posts, I knew what I had to do. I carefully and deliberately picked out a beautiful, unique, ribbed, different fence post and proudly carried it to the garden. It might be silly, but I felt a little bit of redemption pounding it into the ground, attaching it to the fence, and watching it stand tall and straight, doing the job it was clearly meant to do.
Is it just me or does that one in the middle stand just a little taller?
I know my one little fence post in my own little garden doesn't make much of a difference. I know it isn't going to change the world. But to me, it represents a new way of thinking. That different is not a bad thing. That it's okay. That we were never meant to all be the same. That just because something (or someone) is a little different, doesn't mean they can't stand up straight and tall and shine for the world to see
(or hold up rusty old cattle panels for that matter..)
At the risk of losing readers by admitting my very cheesy movie preferences.. one of my favorite movie lines is from 'What a Girl Wants'..
"Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were meant to stand out?"
My daughter's life may be different than what we once anticipated, our dreams for her may be different, but she is still a beautiful and unique child of God, created perfectly AND wonderfully different in His eyes.
Happy/Sad Ramblings Part 2
Happy:
I picked about 50 tomatoes out of my garden yesterday.
Sad:
They all had end rot.
Happy:
We haven't spent countless hours mowing our yard this summer.
Sad:
Our crunchy brown grass gives you slivers when you walk barefoot.
Happy:
I found my drivers license.
Sad:
I didn't even realize I'd been driving without it for weeks. I must look too old to get carded anymore..
Happy:
I stayed up until midnight cleaning my house and scrubbing my floor, making it look shiny and new.
Sad:
I overheard Nolan ask Charlie the next morning if the toad he caught peed on him to which Charlie delightfully replied, "Yeah! It's dripping all over the house!!"
Happy:
I had an amazing, fluffy down pillow at the resort in Chicago.
Sad:
I have been restlessly dreaming about it every night since.
Happy:
Husker Football is right around the corner.
Sad:
So is back to school..
Happy:
The every day 100+ heat means we've gotten our money's worth out of our pool.
Sad:
The every day 100+ heat means I have a hot, cranky, tired factory-working husband.
Happy:
Ella's therapists noticed that my house was really clean and that I showered before our IFSP meeting.
Sad:
That means they also notice every other day when the house is a complete disaster and I haven't showered for a few days..
Happy:
We have 8 adorable baby kitties.
Sad:
We've only confirmed homes for 2 of them. Anyone interested?? :)
close call
I like to think my parenting style is pretty easy going. I can handle muddy footprints streaked across the front porch, tunneled earth in my flower beds to try to reach the baby kitties hiding for their lives under our deck, and trampled cabbage plants (ok.. that's only because I have 15 of them).
My carefree attitude was evidenced the other day while we were at a friend's house and the kids were happily playing down the basement. Another mother asked, "Is the basement child-proofed pretty well?" There was a slight hesitation, to which I remarked, "Define child proofed... As in.. we like to let our kids learn from consequences? If that's what you mean.. then yes." To which the other mother immediately rushed downstairs to check on the kids.
This morning the boys were out playing in the sand pile and I went in the house to get Ella down for a nap. She was just about asleep in my arms when I heard blood-curdling shrieks coming from outside. My first instinct was to ignore them. But they grew in intensity. And immediately I remembered the 2 girls who were abducted from a small Iowa town that is not too close, yet WAY too close to home for us.. I remembered telling the boys that if anyone were to ever try to take them that they should scream as loud as they could, biting and kicking and scratching. I grew a little panicked, at least enough to leave the comfy chair I was sitting in, and awaken the almost asleep Ella in my arms to rush to the door to look out.
And this is what I saw...
Welp.. better safe than sorry I guess..
[almost] Wordless Wednesday
Stubborn: (adj.), Adamantly refusing to even consider holding your own bottle,
yet showing no reservations on a mason jar of sun tea...
Stubborn
Dear Blog...
Please forgive me for completely neglecting you the past few weeks..
Between our trip to Chicago,
and fireworks..
Followed by a round with the stomach flu,
(No pic here.. You're welcome)
2 weeks of swimming lessons,
and a week of Vacation Bible School..
A crazy day at the Children's Museum where I rushed in only to drop off my 2 boys for my sister to watch (along with 6 of her kids) while I took Ella to two doctors appointments, then rushed back to take over watching my 3 kids (plus 5 of hers) while she hurried to her doctor's appointment, then rushed back so we could drive 1 1/2 hours back home to entertain guests for supper..
Borderline insane.. I know. But it worked. Somehow..
Borderline insane.. I know. But it worked. Somehow..
Some campfire arts and crafts,
tumbling head over heels down 5 cement stairs because we were walking with our swim towel over our head and biting completely through our cheek, causing it to swell at least 3 times it's normal size..
I'm actually bummed it healed up so fast.. I didn't get a real good picture..
I'm actually bummed it healed up so fast.. I didn't get a real good picture..
BUBBLES!
Time spent with great friends (and a tube),
blatantly ignoring Bob Barker's advice
to spay and neuter your pets...
A little of this..
A homemade slip 'n slide..
And of course our fair share of this..
All coupled with the looming threat of the "S" word starting again all too soon
(yet some days, not nearly soon enough)
(yet some days, not nearly soon enough)
Can you understand why I haven't been around much?
Please forgive me.
Sincerely,
TSLVBM
TSLVBM
(This Summer-Lovin' Very Busy Mama)
The Question
"Awwww... what a cute baby!"
"How old is she?"
I freeze.
Far longer than what is deemed socially acceptable to a seemingly "new" mother.
I consider my options..
Do I answer.....
Truthfully? - "Almost 18 months." Knowing the awkward silence and stares that will commence if I choose this road.
Truthfully with lots of added excuses? - "Almost 18 months, but she's had a lot of health problems."
Close to truthfully? - "17 months." (What?? She's not technically 18 months yet. And sometimes that extra month makes all the difference..)
Flat out lie? - "9 months." Just so we can all smile and move on with our day without addressing any of her "delays."
As many mothers of small children do, I get asked this question a lot while out in public. Most times I mumble her age, smile politely and agree that yes, she is indeed petite, and skedattle on out of there as fast as I can. As much as I want to be open and honest about everything, sometimes I just don't feel like talking about it to complete strangers. Sometimes I just want to finish my grocery shopping without thinking about my daughter being "different" or "delayed." Sometimes I just want people to mind their own business.
But for some reason today was different.
I was just beginning to check out at the store and the lady smiled and asked the loaded question,
"How old is she?"
I paused, then slowly stammered the truth. "Uhhh... 18.. months," I cautiously replied.
Lady #1: "Oh wow.. she's so little! She MUST have been a preemie."
Lady #2: "Yeah.. how big was she when she was born?"
Me: "Well.... She was 6 lbs 4 oz."
Lady #1: "Oh.... Well...."
Lady #2: "That's.. kinda.. little....."
*awkward silence
And then for some reason I jumped in with
"She has a rare genetic condition called Cornelia De Lange Syndrome."
Lady #1: "What? What's it called?"
Me: "Cornelia. De Lange. Syndrome. It affects her growth and development."
Lady #2: "Ohhhh... Is she walking yet?"
Me: "No." (trying to grab my bags and ease towards the door)
Lady #1: "Oh..."
Lady #2: "Well, you'll have your baby for a long time then, won't you."
Me: "Yup, I sure will." Smiling and finally oh so close to getting out of there.
Then, Lady #2 again: "How old are your boys?" Probably curious if they're actually freak-show teenagers walking around in preschooler bodies.
"Umm.. They're 4 and 6."
"Oh."
And FINALLY exit the store. Whew! I did it.
I don't know why today of all days I decided to open up in public about Ella. Maybe it was because the lady was nowhere near done checking out my items and I knew it would be an agonizing 3 minutes of silence if I didn't explain her age and size. Maybe it was because there was 2 of them and I thought they might gang up and corner me, calling CPS to report me for neglect and malnourishment (although Ella's quadruple-thighs would probably support my case a little). Maybe it was because Ella's getting older so her delays are becoming more obvious to myself and others. Maybe it was because my boys were with me and I wanted to show them that it's always the right thing to tell the truth. Maybe because I wanted to teach them that Ella's condition is not something to hide behind or be embarrassed about talking about. Maybe it's because I'm finally realizing that this is a part of our life now, and it's not something to be ashamed of. Maybe it's because I'm seeing that while I love all our kids equally, perhaps one of the things I love MOST about Ella is her uniqueness and rare beauty and the ways she has helped me grow as a person.
Whatever it was, and however awkward it was I'm glad I took that first step. (And I'm glad I got out of that store with custody of my kids in tact.) Ella doesn't have many of the more obvious features that can go along with CdLS such as limb malformations for example, that distinguish her as "different." I don't get odd looks or stares from people, so it's easy to pretend that everything is "normal." I really don't have much experience explaining her syndrome to strangers.
Sometimes I wonder why I should have to?
When people ask how old Nolan is I don't say, "He's six, but he's only in the 10th percentile for height."
When an old acquaintance ask how Charlie is I don't say, "He's four, but he still doesn't stay dry at night."
When the lady at the checkout counter asks how I'm doing I don't say, "Well, I'm having a hard time losing the last 10 (or 20) pounds of baby weight, I haven't showered in 3 days, I'm already anxious about school starting again soon, and sometimes I struggle with being content..."
No, I don't feel the need to explain the rest of our lives away to complete strangers. So why should I need to explain Ella away?
Why do I have to air out all her dirty laundry for the world to see while I can easily conceal the rest of ours? (Except on my blog.....)
BUT.. I am learning that informing people about her condition, making people aware that everyone is made different, can actually make the world a better place for her to live and grow up in. If people can see how happy and sweet and gosh-darn adorable she is, maybe they will start to see all differently-abled people in a new light. To see first hand that yes, my daughter is facing developmental delays and may never lead a "normal" life in society's eyes like many of you do, yet she faces all the same needs and fears and joys as we "normal" people do.
She craves attention and praise just like any other typical kid. When she doesn't feel well, she needs to cuddle and be held. She loves to be clapped for, and when we're in an auditorium she truly believes everyone is finally realizing her awesomeness and applauding her. She can be naughty, throwing her lunch on the floor when she doesn't want to eat or throwing a fit when someone takes a toy away from her. She really is more "alike" than "different."
If I can lessen some of the 'fear of the unknown' from the world that I know I faced when Ella was diagnosed.. If I can enlighten someone's "knowledge" with a real experience.. If I can challenge society's view of "beauty".. If I can step out of my comfort zone and show the world that "different" kids are really not so different after all.. Maybe just maybe, my Ella-girl and so many others can grow up in a kinder, more accepting world.
One grocery checkout lady at a time...
"How old is she?"
I freeze.
Far longer than what is deemed socially acceptable to a seemingly "new" mother.
I consider my options..
Do I answer.....
Truthfully? - "Almost 18 months." Knowing the awkward silence and stares that will commence if I choose this road.
Truthfully with lots of added excuses? - "Almost 18 months, but she's had a lot of health problems."
Close to truthfully? - "17 months." (What?? She's not technically 18 months yet. And sometimes that extra month makes all the difference..)
Flat out lie? - "9 months." Just so we can all smile and move on with our day without addressing any of her "delays."
As many mothers of small children do, I get asked this question a lot while out in public. Most times I mumble her age, smile politely and agree that yes, she is indeed petite, and skedattle on out of there as fast as I can. As much as I want to be open and honest about everything, sometimes I just don't feel like talking about it to complete strangers. Sometimes I just want to finish my grocery shopping without thinking about my daughter being "different" or "delayed." Sometimes I just want people to mind their own business.
But for some reason today was different.
I was just beginning to check out at the store and the lady smiled and asked the loaded question,
"How old is she?"
I paused, then slowly stammered the truth. "Uhhh... 18.. months," I cautiously replied.
Lady #1: "Oh wow.. she's so little! She MUST have been a preemie."
Lady #2: "Yeah.. how big was she when she was born?"
Me: "Well.... She was 6 lbs 4 oz."
Lady #1: "Oh.... Well...."
Lady #2: "That's.. kinda.. little....."
*awkward silence
And then for some reason I jumped in with
"She has a rare genetic condition called Cornelia De Lange Syndrome."
Lady #1: "What? What's it called?"
Me: "Cornelia. De Lange. Syndrome. It affects her growth and development."
Lady #2: "Ohhhh... Is she walking yet?"
Me: "No." (trying to grab my bags and ease towards the door)
Lady #1: "Oh..."
Lady #2: "Well, you'll have your baby for a long time then, won't you."
Me: "Yup, I sure will." Smiling and finally oh so close to getting out of there.
Then, Lady #2 again: "How old are your boys?" Probably curious if they're actually freak-show teenagers walking around in preschooler bodies.
"Umm.. They're 4 and 6."
"Oh."
And FINALLY exit the store. Whew! I did it.
I don't know why today of all days I decided to open up in public about Ella. Maybe it was because the lady was nowhere near done checking out my items and I knew it would be an agonizing 3 minutes of silence if I didn't explain her age and size. Maybe it was because there was 2 of them and I thought they might gang up and corner me, calling CPS to report me for neglect and malnourishment (although Ella's quadruple-thighs would probably support my case a little). Maybe it was because Ella's getting older so her delays are becoming more obvious to myself and others. Maybe it was because my boys were with me and I wanted to show them that it's always the right thing to tell the truth. Maybe because I wanted to teach them that Ella's condition is not something to hide behind or be embarrassed about talking about. Maybe it's because I'm finally realizing that this is a part of our life now, and it's not something to be ashamed of. Maybe it's because I'm seeing that while I love all our kids equally, perhaps one of the things I love MOST about Ella is her uniqueness and rare beauty and the ways she has helped me grow as a person.
Whatever it was, and however awkward it was I'm glad I took that first step. (And I'm glad I got out of that store with custody of my kids in tact.) Ella doesn't have many of the more obvious features that can go along with CdLS such as limb malformations for example, that distinguish her as "different." I don't get odd looks or stares from people, so it's easy to pretend that everything is "normal." I really don't have much experience explaining her syndrome to strangers.
Sometimes I wonder why I should have to?
When people ask how old Nolan is I don't say, "He's six, but he's only in the 10th percentile for height."
When an old acquaintance ask how Charlie is I don't say, "He's four, but he still doesn't stay dry at night."
When the lady at the checkout counter asks how I'm doing I don't say, "Well, I'm having a hard time losing the last 10 (or 20) pounds of baby weight, I haven't showered in 3 days, I'm already anxious about school starting again soon, and sometimes I struggle with being content..."
No, I don't feel the need to explain the rest of our lives away to complete strangers. So why should I need to explain Ella away?
Why do I have to air out all her dirty laundry for the world to see while I can easily conceal the rest of ours? (Except on my blog.....)
Sometimes it doesn't seem fair.
BUT.. I am learning that informing people about her condition, making people aware that everyone is made different, can actually make the world a better place for her to live and grow up in. If people can see how happy and sweet and gosh-darn adorable she is, maybe they will start to see all differently-abled people in a new light. To see first hand that yes, my daughter is facing developmental delays and may never lead a "normal" life in society's eyes like many of you do, yet she faces all the same needs and fears and joys as we "normal" people do.
She craves attention and praise just like any other typical kid. When she doesn't feel well, she needs to cuddle and be held. She loves to be clapped for, and when we're in an auditorium she truly believes everyone is finally realizing her awesomeness and applauding her. She can be naughty, throwing her lunch on the floor when she doesn't want to eat or throwing a fit when someone takes a toy away from her. She really is more "alike" than "different."
If I can lessen some of the 'fear of the unknown' from the world that I know I faced when Ella was diagnosed.. If I can enlighten someone's "knowledge" with a real experience.. If I can challenge society's view of "beauty".. If I can step out of my comfort zone and show the world that "different" kids are really not so different after all.. Maybe just maybe, my Ella-girl and so many others can grow up in a kinder, more accepting world.
One grocery checkout lady at a time...
Chicago was...
Illinoing.
(Hee hee.. I thought I was SO clever and witty for coming up with that all on my own.
Until I heard a 5 year old say the exact same thing... Turns out I'm just immature. )
Okay, so no offense to everyone who told me how much they love Chicago and all the great places there are to visit.. And no offense to anyone who must be completely out of their mind to want to live there... but seriously??? How do you do it?
The insane traffic, the clusters of people EVERYWHERE, the noise, the traffic, the parking, the crazy drivers, the TRAFFIC!!!
Wow...
But anyways.. We did get to see the Sears Tower
So even though it ended up costing us an arm and leg to park and get up there.. and it took us about 30 minutes to drive around the block.. and we accidentally pulled into a valet parking garage with our beat up, dusty old Impala, only to be surrounded by shiny new BMWs, Porsche's, and Mercedes.. and when we couldn't find our ticket that said which car was ours the guy took one look at us and said "Don't worry.. I know which one is yours"... and we didn't have time to get deep dish pizza... and we have a few more gray hairs from driving downtown Chicago... it wastotally worth it kinda cool.
Yes, Chicago was Illinoing. But thankfully our CdLS Conference was a better experience. :)
Here are a few things I came home with.
1. Amazing new friends. Everyone at the Conference was SO amazingly warm and welcoming, making it so easy to sit down and get to know almost anybody and any given time. Even if our kids were entirely different ages, on entirely different levels, there was a deep connection that flowed between people who have gone through it and "get it."
2. A deeper appreciation for ALL differences. Since my world was rocked upside down a year ago by a diagnosis of CdLS in my sweet Ella girl, my eyes and ears and heart have been opened to so many amazing opportunities to witness the differences in this world and the beauty in them. So many times I think the world looks at people who are different and feels sorry for them, thanks their lucky stars that they're not "like that" and moves on. But if we really stop for a minute, we'll see that there is an indescribable beauty, not in spite of, but because of our differences.
3. A southern accent. Turns out I must have hung out with a bunch of Southerners last week.. Can't wait to see y'all again!
4. An extra 10 pounds. All weekend we ate. And sat. Ate and sat. Then ate and sat some more. And at every meal there were at least 3 different entrees to try. Wait.. I just realized maybe there were 3 entrees to pick from.. like as a choice. Not like-you need to eat all 3.. Hmm... Interesting.
5. Quarters. Yes, I packed quarters for parking in downtown Chicago. HA! And yes, I brought them all back home with me. Bringing my first-born son in exchange for parking would have been more appropriate.
6. A spoiled rotten baby. Okay, maybe I had this before I left, but it is gotten WORSE! She was pretty much held, cuddled, loved on for 4 days STRAIGHT. And does not understand why in the world I would want to set her down now that we're home again. She is apparently clueless to the heaps of laundry, sticky floors, overgrown lawn, and 2 boys needing attention as well.
7. A spoiled rotten baby who HATES the car. On the way to Chicago, Illinoing we made it in about 9 hours. On the way home? THIRTEEN!!! She was happy whenever we would get out to let her stretch. And then we would head back to the car. Merely opening the car door would cause her to scream. (I think that's good cognitive skills though, right???) *sigh... I spent the last 5 hours in the back seat with her, doing some serious entertaining and suggesting to every car we passed that I was, in fact, the special needs kid in the back...
So I know I have waiteda few days all week to post about our trip.. Partly because I've been trying to spend some much needed time with my boys. Partly because I'm trying to get over the fact that those dishes on the counter----I have to wash them. And these kids that want to eat every few hours----I have to cook for them. And I am completely appalled that when I leave my towels on the floor someone doesn't come pick them up while I'm gone and wash them... Outrageous, I know. I haven't posted partly because I completely overscheduled myself for July and am totally stressed and it hasn't even started... And partly because I also brought home a little disappointment from Conference.
Disappointment that I didn't get to visit with the specialists I wanted to, my "one-on-one" meet the expert appointments were pretty pointless, and I had to miss the ONE session I think I would have really benefitted from in order to go to those waste-of-my-time expert sessions.
I hate to make it sound negative because we really did have a good time at Conference. I wanted to write a beautiful post about Conference like my friend Becky did. I kept hearing people saying how much they had learned and how they got so many answers.. and I wish I could say the same. Honestly.. the only things I "learned" was that Ella needs to crawl before she walks, a suggestion on a different kind of sippy cup to try, and that if the Geneticist had to make a guess he would guess she has the NIPBL gene mutation. Well, since 60% of CdLS-ers have that gene mutation, I guess by the laws of ratios I would make that guess too!!!
I guess what I really wanted out of Conference was for a little better idea of a prognosis. I know that no one can say for sure, "Yes, your child will start talking in a few months," or "We know for certain she will walk by age 2." I know that. I just wish I could look at the vast array of kids and pinpoint a little better what she might be like. You seriously can't comprehend the huge spectrum of kids until you see it in person. I wanted someone to come up to me and say "This is exactly what my daughter looked/acted like at that age and look at her now.." And no one did. And right now I just have no idea what to expect and that's kindof scary.
But despite that.. what I do know is that as hard as the past year and a half has been, as many trials as we have been put through, and as many emotional and physical battles we have fought.. we have been beyond blessed to have Ella and CdLS brought into our lives.
(Hee hee.. I thought I was SO clever and witty for coming up with that all on my own.
Until I heard a 5 year old say the exact same thing... Turns out I'm just immature. )
Okay, so no offense to everyone who told me how much they love Chicago and all the great places there are to visit.. And no offense to anyone who must be completely out of their mind to want to live there... but seriously??? How do you do it?
The insane traffic, the clusters of people EVERYWHERE, the noise, the traffic, the parking, the crazy drivers, the TRAFFIC!!!
Wow...
But anyways.. We did get to see the Sears Tower
So even though it ended up costing us an arm and leg to park and get up there.. and it took us about 30 minutes to drive around the block.. and we accidentally pulled into a valet parking garage with our beat up, dusty old Impala, only to be surrounded by shiny new BMWs, Porsche's, and Mercedes.. and when we couldn't find our ticket that said which car was ours the guy took one look at us and said "Don't worry.. I know which one is yours"... and we didn't have time to get deep dish pizza... and we have a few more gray hairs from driving downtown Chicago... it was
Yes, Chicago was Illinoing. But thankfully our CdLS Conference was a better experience. :)
Here are a few things I came home with.
1. Amazing new friends. Everyone at the Conference was SO amazingly warm and welcoming, making it so easy to sit down and get to know almost anybody and any given time. Even if our kids were entirely different ages, on entirely different levels, there was a deep connection that flowed between people who have gone through it and "get it."
2. A deeper appreciation for ALL differences. Since my world was rocked upside down a year ago by a diagnosis of CdLS in my sweet Ella girl, my eyes and ears and heart have been opened to so many amazing opportunities to witness the differences in this world and the beauty in them. So many times I think the world looks at people who are different and feels sorry for them, thanks their lucky stars that they're not "like that" and moves on. But if we really stop for a minute, we'll see that there is an indescribable beauty, not in spite of, but because of our differences.
3. A southern accent. Turns out I must have hung out with a bunch of Southerners last week.. Can't wait to see y'all again!
4. An extra 10 pounds. All weekend we ate. And sat. Ate and sat. Then ate and sat some more. And at every meal there were at least 3 different entrees to try. Wait.. I just realized maybe there were 3 entrees to pick from.. like as a choice. Not like-you need to eat all 3.. Hmm... Interesting.
5. Quarters. Yes, I packed quarters for parking in downtown Chicago. HA! And yes, I brought them all back home with me. Bringing my first-born son in exchange for parking would have been more appropriate.
6. A spoiled rotten baby. Okay, maybe I had this before I left, but it is gotten WORSE! She was pretty much held, cuddled, loved on for 4 days STRAIGHT. And does not understand why in the world I would want to set her down now that we're home again. She is apparently clueless to the heaps of laundry, sticky floors, overgrown lawn, and 2 boys needing attention as well.
7. A spoiled rotten baby who HATES the car. On the way to Chicago, Illinoing we made it in about 9 hours. On the way home? THIRTEEN!!! She was happy whenever we would get out to let her stretch. And then we would head back to the car. Merely opening the car door would cause her to scream. (I think that's good cognitive skills though, right???) *sigh... I spent the last 5 hours in the back seat with her, doing some serious entertaining and suggesting to every car we passed that I was, in fact, the special needs kid in the back...
So I know I have waited
Disappointment that I didn't get to visit with the specialists I wanted to, my "one-on-one" meet the expert appointments were pretty pointless, and I had to miss the ONE session I think I would have really benefitted from in order to go to those waste-of-my-time expert sessions.
I hate to make it sound negative because we really did have a good time at Conference. I wanted to write a beautiful post about Conference like my friend Becky did. I kept hearing people saying how much they had learned and how they got so many answers.. and I wish I could say the same. Honestly.. the only things I "learned" was that Ella needs to crawl before she walks, a suggestion on a different kind of sippy cup to try, and that if the Geneticist had to make a guess he would guess she has the NIPBL gene mutation. Well, since 60% of CdLS-ers have that gene mutation, I guess by the laws of ratios I would make that guess too!!!
I guess what I really wanted out of Conference was for a little better idea of a prognosis. I know that no one can say for sure, "Yes, your child will start talking in a few months," or "We know for certain she will walk by age 2." I know that. I just wish I could look at the vast array of kids and pinpoint a little better what she might be like. You seriously can't comprehend the huge spectrum of kids until you see it in person. I wanted someone to come up to me and say "This is exactly what my daughter looked/acted like at that age and look at her now.." And no one did. And right now I just have no idea what to expect and that's kindof scary.
But despite that.. what I do know is that as hard as the past year and a half has been, as many trials as we have been put through, and as many emotional and physical battles we have fought.. we have been beyond blessed to have Ella and CdLS brought into our lives.
like a thief in the night... happy anniversary honey!
Ahhhh... June 18th. Our six seven year anniversary. (kidding dear--I remembered!)
Today is a tribute to my wonderful, loving husband because he deserves it. Really.. he totally deserves this.
The other night we went on a romantic date. To where else? Menards. On the way he asked me if I had any ideas for a Father's Day or Anniversary blog. I said "No. Why? What would you write about?"
Without hesitating he said, "I would call it the Seven Year Itch... except with a "B"
.................................................................................
Without further ado...
Reasons why I love my husband
He's a GREAT dad..
He always knows the best way to comfort our children
and they really love playing with him.
He helps out around the house
And he has the best ears
EVER for our kids to play with.
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He's a hopeless romantic
and still wooing me every chance he gets..
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He supports all my crazy ideas.
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enthusiastically!
And he brings such energy to our home.
.............................
He's a hard worker,
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but knows when he needs to take time
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to PLAY!
He's good at sports
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and a great fisherman...
But the biggest thing I love about my husband is the serious heart-to-heart talks we have...
and the fact that he's not easily embarrassed!! :)
Ahhhh... I feel so much better now.
Justice has been served. :)
Really and truly though.. I hate to get too sappy, but he honestly is all those things and more.
He was the first person to buy me a paint set and canvases when I confided to him that I'd always wanted to try painting, but had never been able to take an art class in high school.
He dug up a little tree in the dark of night from my Grandma & Grandpa's farm place before it was sold, so we could have a little of their memory growing at our home.
He gives me a hard time about all my "junk" I collect, but he has shown up more than once with a truck bed full of pallets, windows, or old boards for me.. just because he knew I would want it.
He agreed to move back to his hometown (something we read later in my old journal he said he never wanted to do... oops!) and remodel an old farm house.. just because I wanted to.
Just the other day he stopped suddenly in the middle of the road to jump out and pick me a wildflower. :)
AND... he spent his Father's Day setting up our pool.
For the... kids? I think...
If you're curious why this blog is titled "Like a thief in the night" it's because apparently after my very first post when I talked about what I would blog about, he was quite offended that I didn't mention him. So I promised that someday I would devote a blog entirely to him, and it would come like a thief in the night...
Today I am making good on that promise...
I love you honey!!
Who says therapy isn't fun?
Well... Ella for one.
A few weeks ago our PT dropped off a tube thing-ey that she thought Ella might benefit from and.. enjoy?
Apparently Ella doesn't agree..
Fortunately we've found some ways to put it to good use.
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| Child may or may not have pants on here.. Might want to sanitize this Kristene... :) |
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| Isn't this how everyone sleeps? |
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| back stretcher-outer-thinger... niner......? |
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| good hide-and-seek spot! |
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| Child now has pants on... whew! |
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| hamster wheel? |
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| "He's not heavy.. he's my brother!" |
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| Yee Haw! |
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| strange ostrich-child |
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| he may be stuck |
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| him too.. |
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| daredevil stunts |
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| y-M-c-a anyone? |
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| "Hang on. This is gonna be awesome." |
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| While Ella looks on in horrified silence... Quite certain she will never touch that thing again. |
Oh well... we tried!
one week and counting
One week from today I will be doing something incredibly exciting/terrifying.
I will be meeting another child with the same syndrome as our sweet Ella. And not just one child.. hundreds! We will be attending our first National CdLS Conference in Chicago-eek! They hold this event in the US every 2 years and I am so excited to meet the people I have bonded with over Facebook that share in my fears, joys, and every day life. I am excited to learn more about the syndrome and how to best care for daughter. I am also terrified of learning about things my heart may not be ready to accept. I am worried about fitting in with the other moms and feeling "out of the loop" of others who already know each other from previous conferences. I am concerned about navigating our way through a city of over 2.5 MILLION when I can't even follow very detailed directions in a city of 400,000 without a nervous breakdown..
But mostly?? I'm totally unprepared...
(We've only been planning on going for about 6 months or so.. how did this sneak up so fast??)
Here's my list of things to do before we leave next week..
1. Call hotel to find out how early we can check in.
2. Try to remember which hotel we're staying at first.
3. Lose 20 pounds (Thanks for the reminder Becky)
4. Decide where to farm the boys out for the week (kidding.. I have a clue where they're going. kindof..)
5. Do laundry
6. Move the (outside) cat who had kitties (in the house) to the porch.
7. Get a hair cut.
8. Figure out if I want a trim, 4-5 inches cut off, or the full 10 to donate to Locks of Love.
9. Get over insanely guilty feelings if I decide not to cut off enough to donate
10. Spend too much time debating how much to cut off and end up doing nothing. Sorry about the split ends everyone...
11. Laundry
12.Fix flat tire (Ok you got me. I totally added this just for the sake of crossing it off)
13. Put new songs on iPod to listen to in car (yes, we're driving)
14. Clean car so it looks less like Chuck E. Cheese after a busy Sunday afternoon and smells less like my boys gym shorts and soccer cleats.
15. More laundry
16. Pack
17. Realize that even my nicest, most hole-free sweatpants might not be acceptable attire for Conference.
18. Go shopping for new clothes.
19. Feel depressed nothing fits. See #3
20. Charge camera battery
21. Smother boys with hugs and kisses
22. Locate someone's GPS to use
23. Figure out how to use GPS
24. Look up address of hotel in order to program it into GPS
25. See #2
26. Laundry
27. Decide which tourist-ey things to do (any suggestions??)
28. Look up addresses of tourist-ey things
29. Throw out old food in fridge so it's not old+4 days old
30. Worry needlessly about Conference
31.Get oil changed, fluids filled, tired checked (did that yesterday but man it feels so good to cross it off)
32. Laundry
33.Email picture of Ella to the foundation to make pins. (you know.. so we can figure out whose little, adorable, long eyelash-ed, crazy-haired, button-nosed kid is whose.. right Christie?)
34. Get SUPER EXCITED to meet amazing families who from all over the country (might already have done this too..)
35. Try not to feel depressed that they are from all over the country and I probably won't see most again for 2 years at the next Conference in California.
36. Start planning vacation in 2 years (in California)
So basically, I have a lot of unnecessary worrying and laundry to do in the next week...
Wish me luck! :)
I will be meeting another child with the same syndrome as our sweet Ella. And not just one child.. hundreds! We will be attending our first National CdLS Conference in Chicago-eek! They hold this event in the US every 2 years and I am so excited to meet the people I have bonded with over Facebook that share in my fears, joys, and every day life. I am excited to learn more about the syndrome and how to best care for daughter. I am also terrified of learning about things my heart may not be ready to accept. I am worried about fitting in with the other moms and feeling "out of the loop" of others who already know each other from previous conferences. I am concerned about navigating our way through a city of over 2.5 MILLION when I can't even follow very detailed directions in a city of 400,000 without a nervous breakdown..
But mostly?? I'm totally unprepared...
(We've only been planning on going for about 6 months or so.. how did this sneak up so fast??)
Here's my list of things to do before we leave next week..
1. Call hotel to find out how early we can check in.
2. Try to remember which hotel we're staying at first.
3. Lose 20 pounds (Thanks for the reminder Becky)
4. Decide where to farm the boys out for the week (kidding.. I have a clue where they're going. kindof..)
5. Do laundry
6. Move the (outside) cat who had kitties (in the house) to the porch.
7. Get a hair cut.
8. Figure out if I want a trim, 4-5 inches cut off, or the full 10 to donate to Locks of Love.
9. Get over insanely guilty feelings if I decide not to cut off enough to donate
10. Spend too much time debating how much to cut off and end up doing nothing. Sorry about the split ends everyone...
11. Laundry
12.
13. Put new songs on iPod to listen to in car (yes, we're driving)
14. Clean car so it looks less like Chuck E. Cheese after a busy Sunday afternoon and smells less like my boys gym shorts and soccer cleats.
15. More laundry
16. Pack
17. Realize that even my nicest, most hole-free sweatpants might not be acceptable attire for Conference.
18. Go shopping for new clothes.
19. Feel depressed nothing fits. See #3
20. Charge camera battery
21. Smother boys with hugs and kisses
22. Locate someone's GPS to use
23. Figure out how to use GPS
24. Look up address of hotel in order to program it into GPS
25. See #2
26. Laundry
27. Decide which tourist-ey things to do (any suggestions??)
28. Look up addresses of tourist-ey things
29. Throw out old food in fridge so it's not old+4 days old
30. Worry needlessly about Conference
31.
32. Laundry
33.
34. Get SUPER EXCITED to meet amazing families who from all over the country (might already have done this too..)
35. Try not to feel depressed that they are from all over the country and I probably won't see most again for 2 years at the next Conference in California.
36. Start planning vacation in 2 years (in California)
So basically, I have a lot of unnecessary worrying and laundry to do in the next week...
Wish me luck! :)
to paint or not to paint...
The past week or two I've had an itch. An itch I just couldn't scratch. An itch that just kept growing and growing with each passing day, making me anxious, tense, and maybe a little tempermental. An itch to build something, to make something, to DO something..
Typically we spend our weekends working really hard on all kinds of projects around the house, wondering when we'll be done (never), and wishing we had more time for "fun" stuff. Well, the past 2 weekends we have been busy with class reunions, extended family time, camping, fishing, swimming.. all of which were SO FUN!
But I didn't realize how much I missed that feeling that comes every Sunday night where we finally hang up the tools, sit down and RELAX. Tired and exhausted, but proudly thinking back on everything we accomplished (and how much we still have left..) The past two weeks the time that I could have had to work on something, Ella has decided to skip a nap or just be plain ol fussy.. (I'm thinking about revoking that "Baby of the Year Award" I prematurely nominated her for... seems like it's gone to her head.) and I just haven't gotten that feeling of accomplishment I needed from a job well done. Or really, just a job done. Ok.. let's be real. A job merely started... And I was REALLY craving it.
So I decided to make something similar. And this is how it turned out!
Thankfully the hubby recognized that strained going-to-hurt-somebody-if-i-don't-use-a-power-tool-or-wet-a-paint-brush-soon look on my face at supper and asked if I wanted some time to myself after the kids went to bed.
HECK YES!!
So I took a short walk, then headed down to the barn to build something.. ANYTHING!!
Did I mention I have my very own grain bin board pile? Yup, I was pretty pumped when we decided I could have that space all to myself.
Not so happy when it ended up looking like this..
*Sigh... I was picturing something a little more... organized?
It does make the 'perfect old board' treasure hunt a little more fun... while escalating the risk of contracting tetanus at the same time..
Good thing my shot is pretty current.. Funny story-a few years ago I stepped on a nail and as I had NO idea when my last tetanus shot was, I called the doctor wondering if I should come in and get one. The nurse assured me that I should be fine as it looked like I had had one not even a year ago... What??? I still cannot remember for the life of me what I did to get that first one. ha!
Well, anyways, I dragged some real gems from our old barn wood down to the new barn and started working away.
I had seen this on Pinterest and fell in love.
So I decided to make something similar. And this is how it turned out!
I built it to fit in the space between the living room and dining room, where the wall we knocked out used to be. (which yes, I know, still isn't done. I need to work on developing an itch to finish that...)
But NOW I am faced with a huge dilemma.. I was planning on painting it a similar color to what is in the picture but I am finding I really like it this way too!! It kinda looks nice next to the red brick chimney.. I keep going back and forth on what I want to do and I CAN NOT decide.
HELP!!
What do you think? Paint or no paint?
Ahhhh.. I DO feel so much better having yet another unfinished project tucked under my belt though... :)
highlight reel
On my last post a friend of mine commented that she had seen a quote on Pinterest that said "Don't compare someone else's highlight reel to your behind the scenes"
Leave it to Pinterest to say in a mere 11 words what I blabberingly used hundreds to try to convey..
That SO describes what I was trying to say. Perfectly. (In case some of you were still trying to figure it out.. It's ok. I understand.)
So here's a few snapshots from our highlight reel this morning..
Leave it to Pinterest to say in a mere 11 words what I blabberingly used hundreds to try to convey..
That SO describes what I was trying to say. Perfectly. (In case some of you were still trying to figure it out.. It's ok. I understand.)
So here's a few snapshots from our highlight reel this morning..
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VOLCANOES!!
|
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| Total hit |
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| Yes, those are army guys being crushed by hot lava. And yes, my canister in the background says "brown ugar".. Some little monkey must have tore off my 's' |
very mini-vacay
Disclaimer: As not to null my previous post, I want to blatantly admit that every single minute of this very mini-vacay was not full of giggles and smiles. Just to keep it real, there was whining about who got to sit by who, arguments about when to set the tent up, struggles to get Ella to eat her bottle, complaining about a certain bug bite on a certain private area, and by the end of the trip five very tired and very weary travelers.. However I'm totally gonna post pics that are gonna make it look like the epitome of a picture perfect time. Why? Because really.. at the end of the day, the good times did FAR outweigh the bad. I'm learning that life is messy sometimes, but there is absolutely no one else in the world I would rather be spending it with..
So even though maybe not 100% truthfully accurate, these pics certainly capture the wonderful memories we will take away from this weekend and will hold in our hearts forever. Just so ya know...
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| checking out the waves |
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| kinda love this picture... |
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| Don't worry, I was holding onto her arm you just can't see it. Or maybe I edited it out. Whatever... |
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| my boys |
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| love the hands all over his back... SO cute! |
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| just reading by the fire |
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| ruffle butt |
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| the-sun-is-in-my-eyes-pirate-face |
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| I'm sure the day will come when it's not the most exciting thing in the world to catch a 4 inch fish |
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| For now we'll just enjoy every minute of it.. |
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| learning to bait his own hook... *sniff sniff |
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| sittin' on the dock of the bay |
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| trying desperately to catch a turtle :) |
dental rants
Let me start by saying I had quite a lovely time at the dentist yesterday. Compared to the 100-year old dentist I grew up with who moved like a turtle after a large turkey dinner, my new dentist filled my cavity surprisingly quick and painlessly. I had pleasant conversation with my Dr. and the hygienist, consisting of mainly grunts and slight head nods from me, but pleasant nonetheless. And I felt almost pampered, getting to lay my head down and put my feet up for awhile. Besides the grinder-tool that felt like my brains were being shook into mush and the high pitched, fear-striking "wheeeeeeeeee" of the drill, it wasn't so bad.
Can't they find some way to put a muffle on those things? I mean, if they can suppress a bolt action rimfire rifle, they should certainly be able to figure out a way to silence a small dental drill, right??
But my dentist is a conniver, an enticer, a double dealer. He sweetened me up yesterday with a nice and easy appointment, ensuring that I would return today for the same type of treatment, basically wining and dining me. But today's appointment wasn't as pleasant. What? You mean I forgot to mention I had to go to the dentist TWO DAYS in a row?? Yes, I had TWO cavities I'd been putting off getting filled for, oh, about 6 months and lucky for me they were on two completely opposite sides of my mouth, providing me with two separate dental visits. And I knew if I didn't get them taken care of at the very moment I was thinking about it, I would put it off another 6 or 12 months, so I thought I better just get it done.
Like I said, my visit yesterday was nice. The numbing cream worked so well, I barely even noticed him injecting the novocaine needle into my gums, and only to ONE tooth, leaving the rest of my face remarkably movable. And it was over in only about 1/2 a hour. I got feeling back in that one tiny spot after only a few hours and was able to eat normally the rest of the day. Typically I am SO crabby for the entire day after a dentist appointment, even a cleaning.. My jaw hurts, my head hurts, and my teeth feel funny. I just don't like it. I would venture to say I hate it. But I felt so great after this appointment I wasn't dreading the one today at all! Maybe even slightly looking forward to it?
Until I hopped up in the seat, expecting to see my friendly Jekyll doctor come over to greet me, and instead it was Hyde that walked in the room, looking mysteriously dark and ready to work on my mouth with an unmistakeable twist of his mouth and a sly gleam in his eye. The nice dentist of yesterday who only had to use a tiny amount of novacaine to numb an equally tiny part of my mouth, now had to inject a whole painful syringe full of the nasty numbing material into my entire mouth, taking a full minute of painful pinching to do it. I was expecting a small amount of numb-age, not the can't-feel-the-drool-running-down-an-entire-half-of-your-face-and-all-liquids-you-try-to-drink-come-running-down-your-chin numbness...
After what seemed like hours of nightmarish poking, pushing, drilling, "wheeeeeeeeeeee", and subsecquent grinding to get the filling flat, I was finally and mercifully done.
I went to pay. Can you believe the receptionists laughed at me when I asked if they had some sort of Buy 1 Get 1 Program? I mean, at the very least a Punch Card where your 5th cavity is free, or after your 10th you get a free crown or something would be nice. In this economy (and no Dental Insurance), businesses really have to work to keep my business..
So here I sit, thinking irrationally angry thoughts of my Jekyll and Hyde dentist, half of my face still numb and aching, and starving because I didn't have time to eat breakfast this morning and haven't been able to stand the thought of chewing anything since getting home.. (new diet plan?), knowing that in only about a month I have to go back for my cleaning.
I just pray Hyde isn't working that day...
Can't they find some way to put a muffle on those things? I mean, if they can suppress a bolt action rimfire rifle, they should certainly be able to figure out a way to silence a small dental drill, right??
But my dentist is a conniver, an enticer, a double dealer. He sweetened me up yesterday with a nice and easy appointment, ensuring that I would return today for the same type of treatment, basically wining and dining me. But today's appointment wasn't as pleasant. What? You mean I forgot to mention I had to go to the dentist TWO DAYS in a row?? Yes, I had TWO cavities I'd been putting off getting filled for, oh, about 6 months and lucky for me they were on two completely opposite sides of my mouth, providing me with two separate dental visits. And I knew if I didn't get them taken care of at the very moment I was thinking about it, I would put it off another 6 or 12 months, so I thought I better just get it done.
Like I said, my visit yesterday was nice. The numbing cream worked so well, I barely even noticed him injecting the novocaine needle into my gums, and only to ONE tooth, leaving the rest of my face remarkably movable. And it was over in only about 1/2 a hour. I got feeling back in that one tiny spot after only a few hours and was able to eat normally the rest of the day. Typically I am SO crabby for the entire day after a dentist appointment, even a cleaning.. My jaw hurts, my head hurts, and my teeth feel funny. I just don't like it. I would venture to say I hate it. But I felt so great after this appointment I wasn't dreading the one today at all! Maybe even slightly looking forward to it?
Until I hopped up in the seat, expecting to see my friendly Jekyll doctor come over to greet me, and instead it was Hyde that walked in the room, looking mysteriously dark and ready to work on my mouth with an unmistakeable twist of his mouth and a sly gleam in his eye. The nice dentist of yesterday who only had to use a tiny amount of novacaine to numb an equally tiny part of my mouth, now had to inject a whole painful syringe full of the nasty numbing material into my entire mouth, taking a full minute of painful pinching to do it. I was expecting a small amount of numb-age, not the can't-feel-the-drool-running-down-an-entire-half-of-your-face-and-all-liquids-you-try-to-drink-come-running-down-your-chin numbness...
After what seemed like hours of nightmarish poking, pushing, drilling, "wheeeeeeeeeeee", and subsecquent grinding to get the filling flat, I was finally and mercifully done.
I went to pay. Can you believe the receptionists laughed at me when I asked if they had some sort of Buy 1 Get 1 Program? I mean, at the very least a Punch Card where your 5th cavity is free, or after your 10th you get a free crown or something would be nice. In this economy (and no Dental Insurance), businesses really have to work to keep my business..
So here I sit, thinking irrationally angry thoughts of my Jekyll and Hyde dentist, half of my face still numb and aching, and starving because I didn't have time to eat breakfast this morning and haven't been able to stand the thought of chewing anything since getting home.. (new diet plan?), knowing that in only about a month I have to go back for my cleaning.
I just pray Hyde isn't working that day...
not so perfect
As I sit here blissfully daydreaming about what it will be like to have part of the morning all to myself tomorrow (except for the dentist and hygenists helping to fill the painful cavity in my tooth..) I am reminded of last summer. Why? Because today was tough. The boys were coming down from a busy, no-nap filled weekend and decided to abundantly fill the day with arguing, fighting, and whining about EVERYTHING. Ella is rebelling against the six, yes SIX top teeth she is getting in. And I decided to not do ANY laundry last week, putting us in a bit of a predicament this week..
Today some of the same sense of despair I felt last summer started creeping back into my life.
A year ago I was more than beside myself with every emotion imaginable over Ella's diagnosis and everything else that was going on in life. I was hurt and sad and sensitive and denying it and I ended up emotionally isolating myself. From everyone. I felt like I couldn't connect with anything, like all of a sudden I was different, our lives were different, and I couldn't relate to anything "normal" anymore. I didn't fit in with the "typical" world, yet I didn't want to join the CdLS world. I didn't want to learn more about it. I didn't want to get to know anyone because this truly could not be happening to us.
I remember having a really hard summer, being home with all 3 kids, Ella being so gassy and fussy and us not knowing why, the boys being sick ALL THE TIME for some reason and crabby and fighting and every day was such a struggle. It was hard to get out of bed, to shower, to think of one freaking thing to make for supper that night..
And like so many of us do, during my free time I would log on to Facebook. And there I would sit, in my ratty sweatpants and sweatshirt, makeup-less face with huge bags under my eyes, my children coughing and sneezing and whining and crying in the next room, and I would see on my computer the smiling, happy faces of everyone else's kids. I would see the adorable craft projects I just could not muster up the energy to do with my own. The fun, creative lunches others were making while my poor kids got a slapped together pb&j. For the 26th day in a row. I would see the vacations others were taking, the sun and sand they were enjoying, while the only sand I saw was tracked all over my kitchen floor and clogging up the bathroom drain. I would see the "perfect" "healthy" babies being born and wonder what I did wrong? I would see the fun play dates and mommies getting together while I felt stranded in my house and could not think of a single friend I could call.
I felt like a completely incompetent mother.
Everyone else's lives were perfect. Everyone else's babies were healthy. Everyone else's houses were clean. Everyone else's barns were not blowing over. Everyone else's marriages were like their honeymoons. Everyone else's kids played nicely together all day.
Everyone else, except me.
I began to feel more and more isolated, and instead of realizing that Facebook time was NOT helping me, it became more and more of an unhealthy addiction. It was sortof like seeing a train wreck but not being able to look away. (I don't know why I used that old line.. Honestly.. how many people have really seen train wrecks??) I started obsessing about checking my Facebook every day, every few hours, the inadequecies of my own life piling on top of each other, weighing me down even more day after day after day.
It was like I wanted to prove how much better everyone else was than me. I wanted it to be some kind of competition where I always came in last. I wanted to make myself feel worse. I just couldn't stop.
Why? I don't know.. It sounds awful...
But eventually I did get past that. And the good that's come from it?
This blog! Right?? It's a good thing....... right.....??? anyone out there?
*crickets chirping..*
Anyways, I went through that whole unhealthy Facebook phase and eventually found myself reading everyone else's updates (without going into a mental breakdown), but was unable to post about ANYTHING in my own life for a long time. At first it was because I felt so lousy about myself, but then I started to realize that everyone else's lives are NOT the way they look on Facebook. It took me a really long time to understand that (apparently I'm kindof a slow learner). I was actually shocked when I was telling a friend of mine this and she said, "Yeah... Facebook's so fake," like it was no big deal. I didn't know what to say.. I honestly had not considered that before! I was taking everyone's posts and pictures and updates and blogs to heart and only seeing what was on the page in front of me. I wasn't thinking that this was only a small snapshot into people's lives. I was seeing that snapshot as representative of everything good that they had and I didn't.
When I really started to look around, everything just seemed so phony all of a sudden. Why would I post the picture of the 1 minute of fun we had that day and make it look like our whole lives were full of sunshine and rainbows? Why would I post the funny thing my kid said at supper when immediately after that he was sent to the laundry room for disobeying?
Note: Please don't think if you've posted anything "good" about yourself or your kids on Facebook the past year, that I think you're "fake." It was definitely more of an issue on my part than anyone else's..
But part of my honestycurse blessing comes into play here. If I'm going to share anything about our lives, I want it to be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. With a tiny bit of sarcasm and hopefully witty-to-others-besides-me remarks.
I want to be super conscientious to not only blog about the ups, but also the downs. I never want to make others believe my life is perfect. I never want to give others a reason to be jealous or feel bad about themselves. We all have special talents and I love that about the world. There are so many things I wish I was good at: singing even remotely close to on key, picking up after myself and my projects, staying focused on one thing, homeschooling (wouldn't that be great??), running, keeping house plants alive, planning things more than one day in advance...
I've had a lot of nice comments lately on this blog about my adorable kids (true), my perfect house (ha!), my "talents".. And honestly? It makes me a little uncomfortable. I hope everyone out there reading this knows no one (especially me) is perfect. We all have things we're good at and not good at, and God made each of us special and unique and in his own image. What more could we ask for?? Sure, I could spend a lot of time dwelling on the gifts I don't have. But that would completely impair me from using the gifts I DO have. Like building Board Holders!! a.w.e.s.o.m.e.
We've gone through a lot in the past year to get to where we are today, and I feel so thankful for that. I feel thankful that we've been able to take painful, heartbreaking things that have happened to us and rise above, turning them into good. I feel thankful that I've gotten to the point where I can honestly be happy for people when good things happen to them instead of feeling jealous. I feel thankful I am a stronger, more compassionate person than I was before.
I just wish I could go back in time to last summer and give myself a big hug, look into my tearful eyes and tell myself what I know now. (Or maybe post it on Facebook since I might believe it more that way..) I wish I could tell myself that it will be okay. That it will be more than okay. That Ella will bring so many blessings and friendships into your life that you never dreamed possible. That the boys won't be sick forever. That you'll build a new barn. That you'll grow closer to your true friends and family.
And I hope anyone who might be reading this, struggling with issues of your own, knows that it will be okay for you too. More than okay.
As for me? Be thinking of me tomorrow morning when the only crying and screaming I hear will be my own... I really hate the dentist.. :(
Today some of the same sense of despair I felt last summer started creeping back into my life.
A year ago I was more than beside myself with every emotion imaginable over Ella's diagnosis and everything else that was going on in life. I was hurt and sad and sensitive and denying it and I ended up emotionally isolating myself. From everyone. I felt like I couldn't connect with anything, like all of a sudden I was different, our lives were different, and I couldn't relate to anything "normal" anymore. I didn't fit in with the "typical" world, yet I didn't want to join the CdLS world. I didn't want to learn more about it. I didn't want to get to know anyone because this truly could not be happening to us.
I remember having a really hard summer, being home with all 3 kids, Ella being so gassy and fussy and us not knowing why, the boys being sick ALL THE TIME for some reason and crabby and fighting and every day was such a struggle. It was hard to get out of bed, to shower, to think of one freaking thing to make for supper that night..
And like so many of us do, during my free time I would log on to Facebook. And there I would sit, in my ratty sweatpants and sweatshirt, makeup-less face with huge bags under my eyes, my children coughing and sneezing and whining and crying in the next room, and I would see on my computer the smiling, happy faces of everyone else's kids. I would see the adorable craft projects I just could not muster up the energy to do with my own. The fun, creative lunches others were making while my poor kids got a slapped together pb&j. For the 26th day in a row. I would see the vacations others were taking, the sun and sand they were enjoying, while the only sand I saw was tracked all over my kitchen floor and clogging up the bathroom drain. I would see the "perfect" "healthy" babies being born and wonder what I did wrong? I would see the fun play dates and mommies getting together while I felt stranded in my house and could not think of a single friend I could call.
I felt like a completely incompetent mother.
Everyone else's lives were perfect. Everyone else's babies were healthy. Everyone else's houses were clean. Everyone else's barns were not blowing over. Everyone else's marriages were like their honeymoons. Everyone else's kids played nicely together all day.
Everyone else, except me.
I began to feel more and more isolated, and instead of realizing that Facebook time was NOT helping me, it became more and more of an unhealthy addiction. It was sortof like seeing a train wreck but not being able to look away. (I don't know why I used that old line.. Honestly.. how many people have really seen train wrecks??) I started obsessing about checking my Facebook every day, every few hours, the inadequecies of my own life piling on top of each other, weighing me down even more day after day after day.
It was like I wanted to prove how much better everyone else was than me. I wanted it to be some kind of competition where I always came in last. I wanted to make myself feel worse. I just couldn't stop.
Why? I don't know.. It sounds awful...
But eventually I did get past that. And the good that's come from it?
This blog! Right?? It's a good thing....... right.....??? anyone out there?
*crickets chirping..*
Anyways, I went through that whole unhealthy Facebook phase and eventually found myself reading everyone else's updates (without going into a mental breakdown), but was unable to post about ANYTHING in my own life for a long time. At first it was because I felt so lousy about myself, but then I started to realize that everyone else's lives are NOT the way they look on Facebook. It took me a really long time to understand that (apparently I'm kindof a slow learner). I was actually shocked when I was telling a friend of mine this and she said, "Yeah... Facebook's so fake," like it was no big deal. I didn't know what to say.. I honestly had not considered that before! I was taking everyone's posts and pictures and updates and blogs to heart and only seeing what was on the page in front of me. I wasn't thinking that this was only a small snapshot into people's lives. I was seeing that snapshot as representative of everything good that they had and I didn't.
When I really started to look around, everything just seemed so phony all of a sudden. Why would I post the picture of the 1 minute of fun we had that day and make it look like our whole lives were full of sunshine and rainbows? Why would I post the funny thing my kid said at supper when immediately after that he was sent to the laundry room for disobeying?
Note: Please don't think if you've posted anything "good" about yourself or your kids on Facebook the past year, that I think you're "fake." It was definitely more of an issue on my part than anyone else's..
But part of my honesty
I want to be super conscientious to not only blog about the ups, but also the downs. I never want to make others believe my life is perfect. I never want to give others a reason to be jealous or feel bad about themselves. We all have special talents and I love that about the world. There are so many things I wish I was good at: singing even remotely close to on key, picking up after myself and my projects, staying focused on one thing, homeschooling (wouldn't that be great??), running, keeping house plants alive, planning things more than one day in advance...
I've had a lot of nice comments lately on this blog about my adorable kids (true), my perfect house (ha!), my "talents".. And honestly? It makes me a little uncomfortable. I hope everyone out there reading this knows no one (especially me) is perfect. We all have things we're good at and not good at, and God made each of us special and unique and in his own image. What more could we ask for?? Sure, I could spend a lot of time dwelling on the gifts I don't have. But that would completely impair me from using the gifts I DO have. Like building Board Holders!! a.w.e.s.o.m.e.
We've gone through a lot in the past year to get to where we are today, and I feel so thankful for that. I feel thankful that we've been able to take painful, heartbreaking things that have happened to us and rise above, turning them into good. I feel thankful that I've gotten to the point where I can honestly be happy for people when good things happen to them instead of feeling jealous. I feel thankful I am a stronger, more compassionate person than I was before.
I just wish I could go back in time to last summer and give myself a big hug, look into my tearful eyes and tell myself what I know now. (Or maybe post it on Facebook since I might believe it more that way..) I wish I could tell myself that it will be okay. That it will be more than okay. That Ella will bring so many blessings and friendships into your life that you never dreamed possible. That the boys won't be sick forever. That you'll build a new barn. That you'll grow closer to your true friends and family.
And I hope anyone who might be reading this, struggling with issues of your own, knows that it will be okay for you too. More than okay.
As for me? Be thinking of me tomorrow morning when the only crying and screaming I hear will be my own... I really hate the dentist.. :(
rebuilding
So I haven't seen much of my husband this week. Every evening after the kids go to bed he escapes into the dark of night, only to return hours later covered in a layer of dirt dust, a layer of saw dust, and wearing an exhausted, yet satisfied smile on his face.
A few weeks ago we finally got our new barn (pics to come in a later post!) and I was so excited to start using it. Except as I waltzed in, ready to organize our tools, move some animals in and pick right up where we left off with our old one, my eyes grew wide with disbelief as I realized there was one tiny problem. We had a new barn, but there was nothing inside. No shelves, no storage, no place to put anything. It was like a very giant, very glorified BOX. This may come as no shock to most of you, but it was truly something I hadn't considered. Apparently I eventually picked my surprised jaw up off the ground, and the past few weeks we have been busy trying to customize it and make it usable.
But before I show off what the hubby's been working on, I get to brag a little about myself. (My blog, remember??)
One particularly lonesome night, I decided to venture down to the barn to make sure he was doing it right praise his hard work and progress. I watched for awhile, then wanted to somehow help out. I looked around and saw the boys' scrap boards laying all over the floor and went to pick them up. Except I had nowhere to put them. (Remember.. no storage??) I stood there for awhile, puzzled. My college-educated halogen light bulb above my head slowly began to warm up, finally reached a dim glow and it dawned on me. Build something!! So I took some scrap boards that were laying on the floor (again... no storage) and threw this together. I was seriously SO PROUD.
I made the mistake of remarking to my husband "I could sell these!"
To which he replied, "As what... a Board Holder?"
Smart A**.....
anyone wanna buy one??
Anyways.. back to the husband. He has been working SO hard this week on a tool bench for 2 reasons.
1. So we can put our tools on there
2. We are hosting his 10-year class reunion at our house this weekend and plan on putting the food in the barn. On the tool bench. Nothing like a looming deadline to jump start your motivation.
And here is the completed project. I am SO proud of him!
(And he is probably SO embarrassed by me saying this!)
Our entire tool bench!
and I LOVE the fact that he built it all out of scraps. There is nothing more awesome to me than using something somebody else was going to throw out and creating it into something usable, beautiful, and unique. (and free)
We take the phrase "One man's trash is another man's treasure" very seriously around here...
This probably doesn't look like much to anyone else, but this "small" step signifies such accomplishment and hope for us. We were devastated when our barn blew over last year. We had no way of knowing how, when, and even if we would be able to rebuild. But having to fight for something you really want, facing the reality that you may never get it, and then triumphing over that.. It definitely makes you appreciate it SO much more..
And, not to be outdone, the boys and I decided they needed their own tool bench to work on their "projects." So we whipped this out while Ella was napping yesterday.
(She is currently up for 'Baby of the Year Award' for all the amazing naps she's been conveniently taking lately)
I am expecting great birthday surprises built on here this year..
And here is the entire boys' work area, complete with tool bench, almighty 'board holder', and chalk board
(of course for drawing out their plans for my present)
i LOVE it!!!
Slowly but surely my dreams are coming back into focus...
you're not gonna believe this
I want it to be known to the world that I, Maria Watkins, finished a project this weekend.
Complete, DONE. Not, done until I can get to the store to pick up some finishing touches. Not done until I have more time/energy/motivation. Not done because I'm tired of working on it and I'm just gonna call it good enough because I don't care anymore. (Well, maybe a little of that last one..)
We moved into our house 3 years ago. Two years ago we decided to build a deck. And of course we needed furniture to go along with our new deck, but buying what I wanted was waaaaaayyy too expensive. So I thought to my stubborn, stingy self, "I don't need to buy those.. I can easily build my own. It can't be that hard. I mean, if HGTV can do it in like, a half an hour, so can I."
So right away before I lost motivation and moved on to another thought, I went and bought all the boards and started working away. Two years ago...
The first summer I actually completed the table and benches. But as I was pregnant with Ella I didn't want to stain or varnish with anything that could be toxic. AndHitler my husband wouldn't allow me to start the sectional until the table was completely done. So they sat for a whole year. Somberly waiting to be used and loved.
Last summer since I wasn't pregnant, nor busy at all with 3 little kids, I decided to get the table and benches stained, thereby giving me freewill to start the sectional. After learning that you really do need to stir the stain like the can says (not just shake it up a little) they turned out great!
The sectional shackles broke free and I was released to begin cutting again I started out with a bang, working diligently all weekend, vowing to have it done by the 4th of July, and got so much done. And that night the same wind storm that blew our barn over, also blew my hard-worked chairs off the deck, through the yard, and across the road.. busting them to pieces.
Minor setback.. ha!
As there was barnwoon strewn across our yard, branches littering the grass, and every kind of toy, ball, trash imaginable everywhere in between, the chairs had to get the backburner for awhile.
Eventually I must have finished building them, but not in time for much use before the cold weather came. So away they went again to the unoccupied chicken coop for another year.
But THIS summer... things are different around here.
Complete, DONE. Not, done until I can get to the store to pick up some finishing touches. Not done until I have more time/energy/motivation. Not done because I'm tired of working on it and I'm just gonna call it good enough because I don't care anymore. (Well, maybe a little of that last one..)
We moved into our house 3 years ago. Two years ago we decided to build a deck. And of course we needed furniture to go along with our new deck, but buying what I wanted was waaaaaayyy too expensive. So I thought to my stubborn, stingy self, "I don't need to buy those.. I can easily build my own. It can't be that hard. I mean, if HGTV can do it in like, a half an hour, so can I."
So right away before I lost motivation and moved on to another thought, I went and bought all the boards and started working away. Two years ago...
The first summer I actually completed the table and benches. But as I was pregnant with Ella I didn't want to stain or varnish with anything that could be toxic. And
Last summer since I wasn't pregnant, nor busy at all with 3 little kids, I decided to get the table and benches stained, thereby giving me freewill to start the sectional. After learning that you really do need to stir the stain like the can says (not just shake it up a little) they turned out great!
The sectional shackles broke free and I was released to begin cutting again I started out with a bang, working diligently all weekend, vowing to have it done by the 4th of July, and got so much done. And that night the same wind storm that blew our barn over, also blew my hard-worked chairs off the deck, through the yard, and across the road.. busting them to pieces.
Minor setback.. ha!
As there was barnwoon strewn across our yard, branches littering the grass, and every kind of toy, ball, trash imaginable everywhere in between, the chairs had to get the backburner for awhile.
Eventually I must have finished building them, but not in time for much use before the cold weather came. So away they went again to the unoccupied chicken coop for another year.
But THIS summer... things are different around here.
Neither rain nor hail nor sleet nor snow
nor heat of day nor dark of night
shall keep this builder
from the swift completion of her appointed chairs.
from the swift completion of her appointed chairs.
I present to you... my FINISHED sectional
with cushions (and palete coffee table)
and the table and benches too (and kids picnic table)!
Just don't look too close.. these are so so far from perfect it's not even funny. (maybe a little...) The corner's aren't square, the legs aren't the same length (nor straight), there's blobs of polyeurothane where I didn't get it smoothed out, there's screw holes where I had to make them sturdier after already staining them.. but they're done.
I'm just happy they didn't fall apart when we sat on them this weekend.
I'm just happy they didn't fall apart when we sat on them this weekend.
I will certainly not be posting a tutorial on how to do this because I am no expert, but thankfully there's someone who is. My all time favorite building website is Ana White. She is AMAZING and I want to build every single thing on her site, but I think I will take a little much needed, 2 years in the making break for now...
Oohhhh... except as I went to link her blog I just saw a few more things I need to make.like NOW. including.. what is THAT? Captains chairs to go along with the exact table I built???.... Whaaaaattt.....
Oohhhh... except as I went to link her blog I just saw a few more things I need to make.like NOW. including.. what is THAT? Captains chairs to go along with the exact table I built???.... Whaaaaattt.....
*Sigh...
side note: This sectional was classified as a "weekend project." HA! I love Ana White, but she really needs to redefine those classifications. Like, maybe 0 kids-weekend project. 1 kid-month-long project. 2 kids-6 months. 3 kids-2 years.....