Taking Stock

Raising Readers

2012-01-17T09:55:00.000-06:00

I love to read. I read a wide variety of books, poems, newspapers, etc. Now, it seems, my daughters are on the way to that love as well:


Kirstin and Emily reading on the couch

Kirstin is reading words (and a lot of them!) and Emily is learning the process through imitation. Kirstin likes to read to her younger sister. And it turns out, according to this article, I'm doing something right with this!
Now to keep going and exercise their love of words: what does the future hold?

Shine

2012-01-10T10:36:00.000-06:00

In an effort to somewhat procrastinate my real writing assignment for the time being, I will write another blog post.

I know I shouldn’t put off the article I have to write, but it’s still forming in my head. I’ll have a rough outline in about an hour, probably, and then I’ll write the thing and hand it over to Matt for editing. Another issue I’m having is trying to write while both kids are up and mobile. Emily is in a mischief phase, and Kirstin is just a normal young lady that talks too much. They take up quite a bit of my time. This is as it should be, but sometimes I feel like I can’t accomplish anything with those two around. I love them, and love them dearly, but they can be a handful.

Anyway, now that I’m done with the secretarial position at church, I feel so much better! I never knew how much that was keeping me down. As my Minda puts it, “You’ve come out of the shadows and into the light again, babe!” And yes, that is a good way to explain it.

And the light keeps getting brighter and brighter. I’ve done one article for the University, and I’m in the process of working on another one. And low and behold! I’ve got more work coming as well. I just got asked to do some editing for Profile, a magazine the University puts out. I actually love to edit other people’s work, so I of course took it. I feel wonderful knowing that I can help out, and that people will actually read what I wrote. And I must be writing okay, because I get thanks for what I do. Even that’s a change from the previous work. Thank you is a wonderful thing!

But, I’m having issues giving up the work at the church. There is no secretary. Which is fine, a lot of WELS churches have no secretary. However, I look at what’s been done to things I instituted and worked on for a very long time…And it bugs me. The formatting is crap in both the bulletins and on the hymn PowerPoint. It’s all over the place, and not consistent at all. I prided myself in keeping things consistent and looking good. Now it doesn’t.

There are also the questions I’m getting from congregation members that I’ll have to answer eventually. The “What’s really going on?” question is asked on all sides it seems. I’m not ready to say much right now. I want to find out what Pastor is going to do with us. The Elders told him to leave our family alone and let us come back in our own time. Which we have, but I don’t know what that means as of yet. I don’t know if Pastor is going to feel we need to have a meeting or not. I hope not, but that’s just running from the problems that are still there. Nothing was accomplished by not going to church aside from giving us a break to think about what was truly going on.

But I’m keeping positive! Because the members are asking questions, more of Pastor’s behavior is being brought to light. I’ve come to the conclusion that he IS the shadow. And I’m moving away from it. Not the church itself, but the shadow. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine!

First Interview

2011-12-07T16:36:00.002-06:00

I did my first interview today. It went really well. I only asked two questions and then sat back and listened. It was wonderful. The person I interviewed, Jennifer Rothchild (Associate Professor of Sociology, gender, women’s studies, and sexuality), was accepted for an advanced study fellowship through the University of Minnesota Twin Cities.

Through this interview I learned something: Even the “elite” researchers, PhD holding folk, have troubles writing. Her study fellowship will allow her to write with a group of people around her, instead of being completely cut off from others. It will give her the boost she needs to get the work done. She still does the work, but instead of “writing in a lonely cubicle in a library” she will be able to confer with colleagues across disciplines and get more feedback that way. I think it’s a wonderful idea. As she said, “Writing is lonely work. You become can become cut off from so many people when you write.”

I came away from this interview feeling pretty good about myself, and my new course in life. I think I chose well. As long as I don’t allow myself to be cut off while I do my work, I’m going to have fun doing this work. I don’t think I have much to worry about with that, as the very nature of writing articles means I have to put myself out there and find people and talk with them. If it all goes as well as today’s interview, I think I may have found a new hobby. It’s wonderful!

In other news, my depression has eased up greatly since quitting the secretarial position at the church. I feel more at ease in general and haven’t had nearly as many episodes in which I feel completely overwhelmed. I never realized just how much that job was pulling me down and holding me back. And it’s good to know it and to feel so much better. And to actually have emotions other than annoyance, frustration, and anxiety. I’m laughing so much more now, smiling so much more, and singing so much more. I’m finally happy again! Yay!

A Theatre Week

2011-11-18T09:28:00.000-06:00

It has been a week of theatre in this area!

There are three shows going on this weekend. The University is presenting their musical, “Anything Goes,” the Prairie Wind Players based in Barrett have “Christmas Belles” and the high school is showing “Anyone Can Whistle.”

On Wednesday we went to the opening night of “Anything Goes.” It’s a fun musical that was first performed on Broadway in 1937. There’s high society, low society, mobsters, and show girls, all aboard a ship heading for England. Watching the cast sing, dance, and act (all at the very same time!) was inspiring.

As it was the first night, there were still kinks to work out. The pit orchestra was a little too loud, and some of the headset mics needed balancing. There were a few times the actors had to stretch for their notes. But the choreography! I know that not everyone would have known how to tap dance going into the production. Everyone had tap shoes on at some point or another. They all did a wonderful job!

Last night we headed up to Barrett for “Christmas Belles” which is the second of a four part (so far) play series. The series began with “Dearly Beloved” which Matt acted in last spring with the Morris group. I laughed most of the way through “Christmas Belles.” Anything and everything that could go wrong with putting on a church Christmas pageant did, including the Great Pancake Massacre and a drunken socialite trying to read the Christmas story from the Bible. Elvis stopped by for a visit, too, as the “Ghost of Christmas future to come!”

Mix this with a very pregnant forty year old (TWINS!) and her husband who, to provide more money for the family took on a seasonal job as Santa and a convict, there was always something going on. Santa gets a kidney stone, so he was wailing and complaining most of the show.

I loved the show! It helps that I knew a lot of the people in it, and the basic premise. Many of the actors and actresses from “Dearly Beloved” reprised their roles in this show, and a few new ones were added in. It was wonderful to talk with everyone after the show.

I even had a chance to talk to my old English Teaching Methods teacher. She’s now retired and I haven’t had a chance to be in touch with her for a long time. We had to go to the green room to find her, but find her we did.

“Sandy! Your adoring fans come to you!”

Her face lit up and a big hug came my way. It was good. She invited us to go to the bar with her and some friends, but unfortunately we had to get home as it was really pretty late. The baby sitter had school today, you know. And Sandy’s reaction, “Oh, how cute!” Yeah, Sandy, thanks. I still have a smile on my face remembering all of it.

And as always, watching performances gives me a longing to be there too. I want to get back on stage sometime. I just have to wait for a while till my girls are older. My time will come soon enough.

Unfortunately, we won’t get a chance to see the high school play. We’re heading out for the weekend for a baby shower and an early Thanksgiving. I would love to go though, if I could!

Mischief Maker

2011-11-10T09:13:00.001-06:00

Why is it that when kids are asleep, they look all sweet and innocent? And then they wake up and prove otherwise?

We’ve been fighting with Emily to keep diapers on. She figured out how to take them off and now it’s a fun thing to do every day, multiple times, not to mention peeing on the floor every now and then. Of course I made the mistake of leaving her unsupervised while I figured out how to hook up the new to us phones. I grabbed the one to go in the living room and made my way over there.

I didn’t pay much attention as Emily tried helping out. I was more concerned with keeping cords away from her and making sure she didn't run off with the old phone. It wasn’t until I got the phone plugged in properly that I finally turned and looked at Emily.

Her jammies were unzipped and no diaper to be found! So I begin searching for the missing diaper. I looked all over the living room, picking up toys and blankets as I went. Couldn’t find it. I looked in the “Little People Empire” corner behind the rocking chair. Not there. I looked on the stairs where the girls throw their dirty clothes, and still nothing. I looked in the kitchen, thinking she threw it over that gate, and still no luck. I looked under the movie cabinet, table, and china cabinet. STILL couldn’t find the elusive diaper.

I finally ran my hands over Emily’s legs to see if it got caught in her clothes.

Huh. Extra padding around the one leg…

EUREKA!

It is found!

She only undid one side of it and in the normal movement of toddlerhood, it slipped down around one leg, hidden from sight by her jammies.

Whew, able to save the day this time. New diaper goes on, clothes for the day go on, and now we’re back to playing and getting through the rest of the day. Which now sounds like more mischief on her part. “Uh oh” is not good to hear from a toddler.

Why write?

2011-11-08T19:37:00.000-06:00

So, in the wake of pretty well freaking out over quitting the one job, I finally get news about a different job. Basically I'm doing an interview by email. Then they'll send me stuff to write. But the questions are some that I really have to think about:

Tell about your interests when it comes to writing.
What do you see as your strong skills in writing?
What do you enjoy most about writing?

I've never really thought about my writing in that form. Now I am and I'm coming up with nothing. Could it be writer's block already?

Personal Apocalypse

2011-11-08T11:41:00.000-06:00

And today is the beginning of the end.

Sounds rather apocalyptic, but in all reality it’s not. It’s the beginning of the end of my tenure as church secretary. Tonight is a Church Council meeting, and I have my letter ready to be submitted to the trustees. Two weeks from today I’ll be done with that position.

I know it’s a good move, and one that’s needed to be done for a long time now. Yet it still hurts. I loved doing the actual work and took pride in making the bulletins and newsletter look good. However, circumstances beyond my control have made the job rather unbearable for me.

Not working there means I will only HAVE to be in town about once a week. The rest I’m at home, taking care of my girls and keeping house. That won’t be too horrible, either. I don’t like going into town to work right now, anyway. I have to pop a Xanax for the anxiety and then still need my mental cheerleader telling me I can do the job and not freak out while I’m at the church. Then, when I’m done for the week, I have no motivation to go back for Sunday services. It’s rather pathetic, I know, but that’s where it’s at. This last week was even worse than usual, because I felt that I would be forced into conversations with Pastor that I don’t want to have quite yet. His emails to me hinted to something to that effect, anyway. So, in order to handle being there and working, I asked Matt to meet me there after he got off work on Friday and just be there to deflect anything that may come up. And Matt, being the saint he is, agreed to it. This after a hellish couple of days when a server move didn’t go well and computing services had to go into disaster recovery mode. He still made time to help me get my stuff done.

He even helped me compose my letter of resignation. I’m grateful that he didn’t take my first draft seriously. I just wrote it to get out my feelings and used some very strong words. He did laugh at some of what I said, in an almost incredulous way. I needed that. Therapy, and all. My real letter is very short, to the point, and doesn’t give much in details.

So, now, today, before I go and pick up Kirstin from preschool, I will deliver the letter to the council secretary to be brought to the trustees. I don’t trust others well enough to deliver it to the church and have it get to the trustees, the way it’s supposed to. The secretary is a good friend, and knows what’s going on.

I fear what will come from this, to some extent. I don’t know what kind of repercussions this may have. I know I will have to have a conversation with Pastor, but I really don’t want to until I’m out of the situation for a while and have time to reflect back on it. I will talk with the trustees, as they are officially my bosses, and the elders, for any spiritual matters. That’s fine, and they’re all people I like and trust. I just cannot speak with Pastor quite yet. Hopefully after I have a bit of a “cooling down” period as it were I’ll have enough strength for that.

When this is all over, I’ll finally let myself have a good cry and be washed of it that way. Until then, I just leak tears every now and then and move on to the next thing that needs doing. Just sorta in survival mode. The next couple of weeks will be rough on the anxiety levels. Thank goodness for good people and lots of stuff to keep me busy. I shut down over the weekend, and then realized I can’t do that again because it doesn’t do anything but make me feel worse. When stuff doesn’t get done around the house I start getting overwhelmed and that doesn’t bode well. Now I just channel the energy into those chores. If I keep this up my house will be sparkling and all my little crafty projects will be done! I guess there’s a silver lining.

And maybe this is a personal apocalypse. I just needed to figure it out and get through it. Now I can have positive changes in my life and go on and get better again.

Explaining Exorcism

2011-10-27T14:19:00.000-05:00

Why don't I actually monitor my mouth when Kirstin is around?

Again I had to explain a word to her that gave me difficulty.

I was getting the dishes ready to go, and commented to Matt that our sink might need an exorcism. It was just yucky dirty. It happens. And Kirstin overheard it. Then came the following conversation:

Kirstin: The sink needs an exorcism?
Me: Yes. It's really icky.
Kirstin: Oh, okay.
Me: walking out of the kitchen so Kirstin won't see me laughing. Innocently using the word exorcism was hilarious to me, at that point. I come back in.
Kirstin: So, an exorcism is when the sink needs help and you fill it with water?
Me: Umm...No, it's not that. Uh...(good for her on trying to figure it out according to what was going on!)
Kirstin: It's not? Then what is an exorcism?
Me: Well...Umm...Hmm.. (trying to find a way to explain this. Crap, why did I use that word?)
An exorcism is when something is really dirty and has to be cleaned up really well.
Kirstin: Oh, so the sink was really dirty then?
Me: Yes. It was.
Kirstin: Oh, it's good you gave it an exorcism then.

And I got my way out of that without explaining demon possession, religious things, or any of that. I explained to her what an exorcism is in the context in which it was used. WHEW!

Scary New Stuff

2011-10-13T11:29:00.000-05:00

I have an odd thing to be writing about, especially in this forum.

I’m nervous about people seeing my writing.

In order to make a little more money on my own terms, and not HAVE to sub (I still will, just less), Matt suggested I take on a freelance writing job with the University. I’m excited about the prospect, and I emailed the head of University Relations about it. I received an enthusiastic answer, and now I’m required to send three writing samples and my resume.

My resume gives me no problems. I just have to update it and send it. The writing samples are something else entirely. The problem is I have very few samples of my writing out there. I have blog posts, of which I will use one. I also have newsletter articles from the church. And some fiction.

Oddly enough, my fiction is what makes me nervous. I’m not ready for people to see it. It’s still very raw. It’s too personal. And yet a blog post isn’t. So, instead of the fiction, I’m going to send in a sample of my writing for my teaching licensure. I have to clean it up a bit, but it’s workable. I hope these samples will be okay.

I’m also finding that sharing my writing is very scary. I mean, it’s one thing for members of the church to read an article I wrote. That’s the intended audience. It’s another thing for it to be read by someone who is critiquing it for style, content, etc. Will I measure up as a writer?

So many doubts with this new venture. But I’m going through with it because I need the change. Change is always a bit uncomfortable. Besides, how cool will it be to say to someone who asks, “Oh, I’m a freelance writer.”

That is just too fun for me to not take the chance and jump in to it.

Now off to find a good blog post to send!

Baby Steps

2011-09-27T20:51:00.000-05:00

Baby steps. That’s what it takes.

I feel like I’m living the advice from “What About Bob.”

So, I’m trawling the depths again, fishing for whatever it is that will bring me up again.

Yup, crashed. Again.

I was sliding down slowly, with a few holds on a couple trees and roots and the like here and there. I knew I was sliding, and was working toward at least leveling out. And I was on a nice plateau for a bit. I guess I was closer to that edge than I thought, though. One email and I jumped and plunged downward to an almost non-functional depression.

That was on Saturday. And yes, it’s more crud from the Pastor.

I thank the dear Lord for wonderful neighbors and friends. I still had the hymn PowerPoint to do and was planning on bringing it with me to church on Sunday. Well, got the horrid email on Saturday afternoon, and then called the neighbor, crying.

“Hey, it’s me. You planning on going to church tomorrow?”

“Yeah, we were planning on it.”

“Could you bring the hymns in for me? I’m too pissed off to go to church.”

“Yup, no problem, just drop them by.”

And that’s exactly what I did. It’s pretty good when you have to take a mental break from church. Well, let me clarify: It wasn’t church that required the break, it was my Pastor.

Neighbor answered the door, just asked, “What’s up?”

She didn’t even flinch as I swore and called Pastor some names that I normally wouldn’t even THINK of calling ANYONE. Then she told me I have to get out of there as soon as possible. I knew this, of course. I’ve known this for nine months, but just haven’t been able to figure out how, or how to really truly break myself from that job. The job itself I love. It’s fun, it’s just challenging enough to keep me going, and I feel useful doing it. Working with the Pastor, not so much. That man has the ability to suck all the fun out of it and make me feel completely belittled and worthless. And now let me say, “I’M NOT DOING THAT ANYMORE!!!” That’s his problem, not mine, and I refuse to be defined in that way by anyone, anymore. (While I’m at it, should I burn a bra?)

So, with that I spent Sunday doing pretty well nothing, crying off and on and just trying to figure out how in the hell to get myself out of the pit I fell in. Monday was more of the same, though I accomplished a tiny bit: I vacuumed the dining room. So I knew I wasn’t COMPLETELY worthless. I could vacuum. Any conversation I had was at a minimum. Just didn’t feel like dealing with any people at all. Couldn’t concentrate on anything. Had a rough time eating and sleeping. Yup, this is a depression episode again.

Shit.

Today, I did dishes and got the living room picked up and vacuumed. Then I went and picked up Kirstin from pre-school. I was feeling pretty good when I got back. Not all the way up to where I should be, yet, but working on my way up. Still didn’t know what I was going to do about the situation at church. Feeling rather lost about that. I know I have to get out. My mental health cannot take any more of these random attacks.

Then, at supper, Matt and I were talking it over. What the heck can I do? I still want to be able to have my evenings and weekends. And I can’t quit at the church till I have another job. Matt mentioned getting a license for subbing that will last for five years. My teaching license is gone, it’s lapsed. So now, if I can get a sub license, that’s what I’m going to do. I need to research it, find out what I have to do to get it. Then the same month that I get into subbing again, the church job is gone. I have a few ideas as to how to word my resignation letter. I would love to come back to the position after this Pastor leaves. Like I said, I enjoy the job, just not working with Pastor.

And now with some plan in mind, some of the gloom is gone. There’s light again. I’m becoming me again. It’s good. I can do this. Baby steps to wellness….Baby steps to a new job…Baby steps to a clearer mind.

Character Sketches

2011-09-09T11:29:00.000-05:00

I took some time this morning to bring the physical view of my characters onto paper. I’ve got most of them named, except the men. One man I have down is tall, black hair, black eyes, and tanned. Not sure of a nationality for him, and I’m not sure these people really even have a nationality or if it’s needed. This man is the leader of the men. He plays an integral role in the coming of age ceremony and training of the young men. He gives them skills to live in the men’s world. He’s slow to anger but tough on love. He doesn’t give praise or show much emotion. It’s odd because aside from Sam, he’s the most real character to me, and yet I can’t name him. That will come in time.

The other characters I have imagined are all real to me physically, but not so much in personality. I think I just need to write them and see what happens.

One obstacle I’m coming across is the question of procreation and accidental incest. I’m not sure what to do about that or how it all works out. If the men and women don’t interact aside from procreation…Very unknown right now. And once again, it will come in time and I think I just need to write.

And I probably won’t start at the beginning of the story either. Right now the coming of age ceremony is on my mind and I think I’d like to write that out first. Skipping around is more my style. It’ll keep me interested in it longer.

I am still surprised by the clarity I have for this story, even if there are some questions. Now, time to write! Yay!

Good Food

2011-09-07T12:38:00.000-05:00

Cooler weather is wonderful! Especially when it comes to cooking. There are some foods that you just can't have in warm weather. Now that things are cooling down a bit, we're having good food around here. We didn't have a garden this year, so we're not pulling the bounty from that, but we had some stuff in our freezer from last year yet that we're using up.
The other night we had grilled steak, squash, and broccoli. That was really good.
Then we had a day of very little: Rice for supper. Add some cheese and butter and Matt adds onions and mushrooms to his, and I use just plain teryaki sauce, and life is good.
Now today, we're eating a lot again. Lunch was pancakes made from scratch . Very nice, fluffy pancakes, too. Now supper is already in the process. Beef noodle soup with onions, carrots, and rutabagas and homemade egg noodles. Mmm...
Luckily there will be leftovers.

I guess the creativity is coming out in many ways. What will be next? Maybe pasties? I've got a lot of the stuff right on hand for them. And they are oh so good! I also found a recipe for popovers that seems easy. I may try them, too. And we haven't had egg rolls in a long time, either. Too much good stuff!

Ideal clarity

2011-09-07T09:55:00.000-05:00

Wow!

I almost never get this much clarity for an idea!

I've been reading H.G. Wells' "A Modern Utopia." I haven't been making a lot of headway with it, because I mainly read right before bed and it's a doozy. Some sentences I have to reread about ten times before I can finally get what's being said. And then, because I read right before bed, I have other distractions, like the TV. Matt likes to watch all kinds of good shows before he sleeps, and I usually wind up sucked in to learning about how the Blue Angels fly or something like that.

Anyway, I've been thinking about what my utopia would be.

I've come to the conclusion that there is no utopia. And so, my idea for a story came about. A world run by women. Men are banished from this world aside from the purpose of procreation. And the story will be told from the point of view of a boy about to commence into the world of men after his "coming of age" ceremony.

It won't be a "women are better than men" type of writing, nor will be it be the other way around. There's a lot of thinking to do, yet. Thank goodness I have a nice big white board on which to write random words. Though, when Matt sees the words, "men banished" he may be a little frightened. I'll tell him it's all for a good story.

Some of the tough stuff

2011-09-06T10:52:00.001-05:00

There is something on my mind that I’ve been mulling over for quite a long time. I didn’t want to write about it at first because I wasn’t sure if I could do so without going too far into personal matters that are not my own. Now I think I can write about this without any problem. It’s all a matter of finding the correct words.

This past summer, in the beginning of July, I think it was, our Pastor’s son died. He committed suicide.

(An aside: what powerful words-commit suicide. They are so final, which I guess is because they are final. It’s not like a person DOES suicide. A person COMMITS suicide. It’s an all or nothing deal. Anyway, back to the original post.)

This was a shock within our congregation and within the synod circles. You can never really understand what drives a person to commit suicide (there it is again!). The only explanation given was that he was “too enamored with the ways of the world.” He was 30 years old. He died on his 30^th birthday.

This post is not necessarily about that, though. Not long after the news got around to everyone, the daughters of our previous Pastor posted bible verses on their Facebook pages. Which was nice, and I know where they were coming from with that. It was a way to show from whence help can come and to not despair. The issue I had was the younger one added, “If you’re having a problem, TALK to someone about it!”

Good words, I will admit. However, they’re too simplistic. There’s so much more to it than just “talking to someone about it.”

I wasn’t able to explain that to her. She’s now a freshman in college. She still has the rosy outlook of a teenager. I’m not willing to be the one to take that away from her. Unfortunately, for most people, life experiences do that anyway.

I will begin this next portion with the explanation that I have never been suicidal. Let me repeat: I HAVE NEVER BEEN SUICIDAL.

Okay, now that’s out of the way.

Knowing my own background and struggle with depression, I know some of the thoughts a person can have. I also know how difficult it can be to either voice those thoughts or to express that one is even having those negative thoughts. For me, there are three main reasons for this:

A. I don’t want to burden others with my problems.

B. I feel no one can understand my issues, so I don’t even try to explain.

C. I’m not sure I can even find the correct words for what is going through my mind.

A lot of the time, I try to just muddle through on my own when I feel the depression coming back. I go through good times and bad times. Because of the three aforementioned reasons, I don’t tell people right away what is going on. Why should I be the downer? What good would it do, anyway? How can I accurately explain what’s going through my mind?

And, now, knowing those difficulties I’ve had with mental illness, I can understand better what a person may go through.

So, saying, “If you’re having a problem, TALK to someone about it” just doesn’t work all the time. It’s an easy platitude for those who have never experienced depression/other mental illness to say. It makes the people saying it feel better, maybe. It’s like finding a leak in a dam and sticking your finger in it to make it stop: You may think it’s working, but it ignores the bigger issues that caused the leak.

I also need to say that I’ve had wonderful people around me to help me through. My most awesomest husband, Matt. He helps me by taking up the slack around the house when I just don’t feel I can do anything. He doesn’t judge. Or, if he does, he doesn’t voice it. He knows I do enough of that for myself. He also doesn’t pressure me to say anything. He just waits. He knows in time it will come.

Also, I have my Minda. She’s had her own battles and made it through. She knows some of what I’m feeling and also knows how difficult it can be to explain. Again, there’s no pressure from her, like Matt, she just waits. She understands that with every emotion I have there’s always the underlying: Is that really me, or is it the depression again? While everyone experiencing this crud is different, she is also able to say, “Well, in MY experience…” and luckily, I’m able to value that as it is. (Go liberal arts education! WHOO!)

And I can’t forget Mary, who has cheered for me (whether she knows it or not), and prompted me to write about the experiences. She knows sometimes saying something is difficult, but somehow writing it out is easier. Maybe it’s the connection between the brain and the hands that aids that. And when something is written, it can be erased, edited, etc. When you say something, you can’t UNsay it. You’re committed to the oral process, the written process is made to be edited.

And now, if you made it to the end of this, I applaud you. I’m happy I’ve made it to the end of this writing. It explains many thoughts I’ve had. I’ve finally been able to process them, and get them down. In a nice, edited way.

Bad Mom Moment

2011-08-29T15:12:00.000-05:00

I’m a terrible mother.

I really am.

Not always. I can pull off some amazing mommy moments when teaching my girls, like making up the notecard game to help Kirstin learn some first words, or teaching Emily how to say, “I love you” after giving hugs. Those are fun times.

But then there are the times when I’m tired, cranky, and putting up with whiny, cranky kids. Then I tend to get more sarcastic and mean. I also make assumptions that can hurt others.

So what happened?

I told Kirstin I flushed Mongo the cat down the toilet.

It all started with getting ready to go to the parade in town. I had the girls ready, and I took a second to go to the bathroom. We tend to keep an open door policy with the bathroom. I think of it as modeling good behavior for the girls. Really, it’s just a lack of modesty and laziness. I was just turning to flush the toilet and the shower curtain moved outward.

It startled me, especially as part of the curtain took the shape of a big cat paw. I knew what was going on, but was startled, none-the-less. So I yelled,

“Holy crap!”

Matt laughed and said I didn’t know Mongo was between the curtains. Obviously I didn’t because otherwise I wouldn’t have yelled.

Kirstin heard the name, Mongo, and assumed he was in the toilet for whatever reason. She didn’t see what was happening and put two and two together and got five, I guess.

So, the inevitable question came.

“Did you just flush Mongo down the toilet?”

The night before we’d gone to see fireworks at the Traverse County fair, and wound up visiting with Matt’s Aunt, Uncle, and cousins (that’s a fun story too). We didn’t get home till after midnight. Now, me, being tired from getting home so late the night before coupled with an odd inability to sleep after that, answered in my usual sarcastic way when I feel like that:

“Yes, Kirstin, I did flush Mongo down the toilet.”

I figured she knew that Mongo wouldn’t fit down the toilet, and that he would probably not like being in the toilet in the first place and just jump out. I was completely and horribly wrong.

Cue tears and sobbing.

She thought she lost a beloved pet, again. She wouldn’t stop even after I procured Mongo from the shower curtain and brought him out for her to pet. She didn’t even really stop after I held her and rocked her. All the while apologizing and telling her it was a joke and I shouldn’t joke like that with her because she takes things so seriously. She didn’t stop crying till her dad gave her a hug and told her we’d better get to the parade or she’d miss out on all the candy. Then it was like nothing happened and she was all smiles and antics again.

By the way, the parade was fun as usual. Kirstin was the only kid in our section so she got a TON of candy. Of course, no kid needs that much candy, so to save her teeth I decided to take one for the team and eat some, too. I mean, if it saves a child some trouble, it must be okay, right?

Another Creative Endeavor

2011-08-26T09:40:00.000-05:00

Finally, able to take some time to write a little bit.

Actually, I’m sitting at my desk with a cup of coffee and a muffin. I was going to read some of my online stuff and then realized that I have no more to read online.

And yet, there are dishes to be done, laundry to be folded, floors to vacuum, and all that good stuff to do today and motivation is just not there for right now.

So, I write.

I have been quite busy. I got an idea into my brain and I just can’t let it go. I want to make a quilt for Kirstin for her 5^th birthday in March.

But I don’t quilt.

Hmm…

So I talked to Matt’s aunt Jo about it. She can piece together quilts, but does only squares.

Hmm… again…

Hey! I know! I can personalize it by embroidering a bunch of blocks with pictures and words that remind me of Kirstin.

And now I sit with embroidery in my hands while Emily is napping and after the girls go to bed. I have all kind of pictures to embroider onto blocks of fabric.

Only other problem: It’s been years since I last did anything like this. I knew I needed help of some kind. So I searched the web for any kind of tutorials I could find and came across Mary Corbet’s Needle NThread blog.

How cool is that! She even put up video tutorials of the different stitches, includes patterns, reviews embroidery books, and offers advice to anyone who asks. I have learned much from this website.

Now, this creative endeavor is going pretty well. I made use of the local fabric shop for thread, needles, and fabric. I even bought a little embroidery hoop from there, but it didn’t work well. I got better ones from my Mom in law. I’m all set, I just have to go with Jo to get the rest of the fabric, embroider all the pieces that need it, and get them to Jo. It should be a fun project. And I get to repeat it in a few years when Emily gets to be the same age.

Otherwise I’ve just been knocking titles off my reading list. I’ve read items by Henrik Ibsen, H.G. Wells, and am in the process of reading Cervantes’ Don Quixote.

The reading list is something I’m never going to finish. As I put X’s by the title’s I’ve read, I add new titles to it. I just love books! With my reading list, I also get a sense of accomplishment as I finish a book and can put an X by the title. Some of the books I like more than others. Some I may read again, and others, well, not so much...But I'm getting a taste of all different kinds of literature. It's wonderful!

Raising a Writer

2011-08-01T13:02:00.000-05:00

“Give me a broken piece of heart!”

“Do you like my song Mama?”

Why yes, it’s a beautiful song, but it’s a little sad isn’t it?

“No, not at all Mama! I just haven’t found the right words yet for when the heart isn’t broken anymore!”

I’m not sure where she even got the words “broken piece of heart.” We always have so much music playing around here it’s tough to say.

But Kirstin does touch on something that every writer goes through: Finding the right words to convey the story, emotion, chaos, etc. with the pizzazz that will make readers think, “WOW! I know this!”

And that makes me realize just how grown up she is. It all started with a haircut.

Before she looked like this:

Emily and Kirstin enjoying the sunny day

My little girl, and she would always be my little girl.

Then, we got her hair cut.

Nora, Landon, Kirstin, and April singing in the VBS closing service.

Now all of a sudden she grew up on me. She has good insights on people and situations. She’s fun to listen to (though not ALL of the time). She tries new things all the time. She’s becoming more daring, a little more sassy, and tried swearing a few times. All of which puts my heart into my throat, frustrates me, and makes me laugh. It’s very difficult to tell a child not to use some words when you’re laughing. Like when she said, “That f---ing d..n computer just doesn’t work!”

At least she used the correct context. And yes, she gets that from me. While I don’t normally swear around the kids, sometimes when things aren’t working right I slip up. And yes, I’ve used those words when my computer wasn’t working the way I wanted it to.

And now I believe I may have a writer on my hands. I want to encourage her to put her thoughts down on paper, as soon as she can write. Right now she draws pictures a lot. Who knows, maybe I have the next great poet, novelist, or playwright on my hands. She’s still young enough that her imagination isn’t inhibited by anything. It’s my hope that it never becomes that way.

Moving slowly

2011-07-25T20:04:00.000-05:00

The surgery is done. I'm sore, as is to be expected. I'm learning to take the pain pills the doctor prescribed. I turned down some heavy narcotics in my IV in the recovery room. Not a big fan of them. Took some Aleve instead when I got back to my regular room. That worked pretty well. Now I have Tylenol 3 to take. It's not as strong as the demerol or morphine I was offered earlier. Just focusing on getting better so I can then focus on where life is again. It'll probably be a few days. I can't wait to hold my girls again! I miss the cuddles! In the meantime...being waited on is kind of fun!

New Date to Add

2011-07-23T11:07:00.000-05:00

June 26, 1982

June 26, 1995

June 26, 1998

August 28, 2000

October 20, 2000

June 22, 2002

June 26, 2003

July 8, 2006

March 14, 2007

August 25, 2009

April 29, 2010

A random list of dates, right? Not to me. These are life changing (or completely life beginning) dates. There are significant birth dates, dates that are special to Matt and me, the dates when I found out about my pregnancies, and the birth dates of my girls included.

Pretty soon I can add another date to the list: July 25, 2011.

And what is special about that date?

That is the date in which I have surgery. Tubes will be tied, and endometrial ablation (uterine cauterization) will be done.

And I will no longer be able to bear children.

Not that I want any more children, but this is a big step towards something unknown to me. I’m voluntarily letting something of myself be taken away. I never thought I’d let child bearing define part of me, but it does. It’s really less than 1 percent of my thoughts that go to this subject. I’m mostly happy about this decision. No more periods. Ever! No more cramping, icky, painful, crud. No more worrying about taking a pill every day to make sure I stay on schedule and to prevent any more children. That’s a pill I’ve been on for 13 years!

I will have to figure out what my “normal” is now. My hormones have been altered by taking pills or being pregnant for so long I have no clue what normal is for me. This is the part that scares me (besides the cuts to my abdomen). I know what normal is for me right now. It’s fine, and workable, and happy, for the most part. What is to come?

These questions can only be answered by going through the procedure and then taking things day by day. I have good people around me to help out as needed, and many people excited for me as I embark on this portion of my life journey. One person in particular surprised me: Matt’s coworker Rebecca. She fought some kind of reproductive cancer and had to have a hysterectomy. She’s happy and excited for me (I’ve heard, Matt talked to her, not me) to not have to deal with monthly cycles in the “prime of my life.”

It’s good to know there are people I can talk to about this and who are willing to drive Kirstin back and forth from Vacation Bible School. It’s wonderful to know my parents will take care of the kids while Matt and I are gone for this surgery, and it’s even stupendous to know my husband is willing to take time off of work to drive me back and forth and take care of the girls while I recover enough to care for them myself.

It’s a beautiful life!

Bustin' Out

2011-07-10T15:57:00.003-05:00

In which the layered look goes wrong; and only Matt and my pastor knew about it.

Being Sunday, and being the pious individuals we are, we got up early and got ready for church.

I already had the girls’ clothes picked out and ready, and I found something for myself to wear as well. I was doing a layered bit with a tank top underneath a green button down shirt. My dilemma was whether to include a bra with the ensemble or not, as the tank top had a built in bra. I decided for more support.

This particular tank top has adjustable straps, but being well used no longer really stay adjusted. And I have a fifteen month old monkey to wrangle.

And today was no exception for Emily. She was all over, getting into everything, trying to crawl under pews, examining the contents of my purse, etc. My poor tank top couldn’t keep up. Literally.

Cue communion time. When it was our turn, we told Kirstin to stay in the pew, and I carried Emily up front with me. I placed her standing at the rail while I knelt behind her. Pastor came with the wafers, he handed one to me, and I looked down.

Oh my!

Hello girls! I shouldn’t be seeing you here.

I left the top button of my shirt unbuttoned to facilitate the layered look, and my tank top was below my breasts. All that was there was cleavage and bra. Laughing silently (we’re pious, you know, no laughing during communion!), I moved the button down shirt slightly to cover up a little more, while being thankful I had Emily to cover up the rest of me while I was walking back to the pew. Also being thankful I had included the bra with the outfit instead of relying on the built in bra in the tank top. That would have been a whole lot more to show.

And of course, when I got back to the pew, I buttoned the top button of my shirt completely, and told Matt what happened. He too laughed about it. No one else but Pastor could have known because I had Emily in my arms and covering anything that was going on with my wardrobe. It wasn’t until church was over that I was able to find a quiet moment to fix the tank top. I’m thinking it’s about time to retire it if it can’t keep up to the activity.

And of course I had to laugh about it to our friends, who understand completely the challenges of being properly dressed while wrangling kids.

So tired

2011-07-01T20:55:00.000-05:00

I have a blog post I'd like to make, but every day it seems I'm so tired out and just can't get myself to sit down and write. Hopefully one of these days soon I'll be able to get it done.

I want to write about two letters of the alphabet that change so many words. It's amazing what comes to me while I'm in bed waiting for my mind to wind down enough to sleep. And for once, I remember most of the thought process. If I kept a journal up there to write in, I'd never get sleep, otherwise I would.

So why am I so tired? Well, Kirstin has nightmares a lot lately. That gets me a crying child running into my room late at night. I get up, take the time to see if she can calm down enough to tell me what happened, get her a drink of water, and back to bed she goes. Then Emily gets up during the night too. I went from a full-night baby to one who wakes up screaming; usually between two and three in the morning. She takes more time to calm down. I've tried just laying her down in her crib again and rubbing her back or tummy, but that does no good. If anything, her screams get louder. I've tried just picking her up and holding her, swaying back and forth. That does quiet her some, but when it comes time to go back in the crib, the screams start again and I get a stiff as a board baby who is clinging to me. So, down the stairs we go to the rocking chair. If rocking doesn't help, then it's to the kitchen for a cup of milk. And now I fear I'm spoiling her and she expects that every time she wakes up at night.

Last night I did change it up a little, and only gave her water, which seemed to work okay, and I also gave her a cup of milk right before bed. Still woke up screaming, but then I didn't feel so bad about giving her just water. Now today I noticed she was chewing on many things, including Kirstin's brand new flip flops. So I took a look, and yup, we have more teeth coming. These are eye teeth, so tonight after her cup of milk I gave her some medicine. Here's hoping to a full night's sleep and a better blog post to come!

Reading List

2011-06-23T21:43:00.000-05:00

I never got a summer reading list whilst I was in school. I never needed one. I was the type to be told to go play outside instead of reading my books. I would then go outside, move the lawn chairs around a bit, then sit and read in the middle of the yard.

Because I've never truly had a reading list, I've made up my own. Some books on there are classics, some are just fun, and all of them hold and interest for me for whatever reason. The titles are from all over the world. The United States is most prevalent, but I've got a title from India, some from France, and some from Russia. England is the next most prevalent behind the United States. And as I type I can think of at least three more titles I should add to the list:
Don Quixote by Cervantes
Cry the Beloved Country by Alan Paton
Nervous Conditions by Tsi Tsi Dangarembga

The problem, if you can call it that, is that I just added 18 more titles to my reading list. At this rate I'll never get through it. That's the glory of a list though: You can add or subtract titles (which I've never done) at your whim. It shows a number of titles you've read throughout the years. This list is not comprehensive by any means. Usually I'll read a book from the list and then that turns into many offshoots from that one book. Once I get done with the offshoots (or tired of them, as the case may be), I go back to the list and try another book.

Currently I'm attempting to get through some Russian literature by reading "The Karamazov Brothers" by Fyoder Doestevsky. Now that I'm finally into it a ways, it's easier reading. At first I was just trying to get all the characters figured out. The only book I've not been able to figure out so far is "The Silmarillion" by Tolkien. That is one book that requires a flow chart and frequent stops to consult it. After the Russian Lit I may try some English Lit again, or maybe I'll pick up one of the books I listed above. Who knows? That's also the wonderful thing about a list: If you have it written down you can consult the list instead of asking yourself, "What was that book again?"

All hail the book lists!

Creating

2011-06-14T21:16:00.000-05:00

I create.

Many things.

I created dress and tank top patterns for Kirstin. I'm still in the sewing phase of that. I just don't really think about it, I just do it. Sometimes things turn out. Other times I waste a lot of time on something that just doesn't look right.

I often create random dishes and ideas for something that may taste good. If they don't turn out, well, hopefully the dogs will eat it, so all the food doesn't go completely to waste.

And then tonight: I created music.

I have a later learner book. The end song in that book is Variations on the Theme from the Celebrated Canon in D.

It's a very pretty song. However, I know I have to go back and practice some of the lessons in the book, as my fingers just can't do what the music says. I've adapted as I've played it, until it was almost unrecognizable to what was really on the page. So, through an open source program kind of like Finale, I redid it to what I usually play. It turned out pretty good. I saved it to a PDF file and printed it. Now I just have to wait until tomorrow to try it out on the piano.

My next creation? A gnome fantasy land in my yard. That's still in the drawing up phase, and a gnome still needs to be procured. I found a couple at Menards, but they were too brightly colored for my taste. He/She/It will have it's own home in my yard where currently some day lilies are living. There's a stump there and I have a couple of logs from a downed branch. I'm going to paint and seal all of it so it lasts for a while out there, and there will be a little gnome garden and such. I'll teach Kirstin about gnomes, and help her keep her own fantasy land for as long as possible. Mostly because those are good excuses to have a gnome in my yard. The best excuse I can find though: I'm not allowed to get pink flamingos. Matt won't let me. He says they're tacky. So gnomes it is. Instead of tacky they're kitschy.

And now it's time to create a world in my mind as I read my book and relax before bed. What wonderful days!

It's Not Astrological

2011-06-13T12:53:00.000-05:00

Here we go again. Another round of passive-aggressive bullshit.

If people could just come out and say what they mean, this stuff would be over so much sooner.

Background: We spent the weekend at my folks' place. Things went pretty well, all things considered, but once again, my husband and my sister-in-law did not get along.

Usually they just ignore each other in a live and let live way, and that's what happened this time around. However, in a very public manner they have started up. I have no idea what's going on. I mean, I know from Matt's side because he tends to be very vocal. He has always said, "I am who I am and if you don't like it that's fine."

And it is, but I'm not sure exactly what's going on with Erin's side. And in an effort to stay out of it, I'm not sure I really do want to know. But I am confused as to what some of things she's written on my DAD'S FACEBOOK page mean. (Matt is going to apologize to my father later on for his part in it, he's at work right now). I know some things didn't go as planned this weekend. Like we had a child meltdown in the middle of the night and had to take care of it, which led to Matt yelling and swearing once at Kirstin. At about 2:00 a.m. None of us like how that turned out, but no one else really knew what was going on in the room, and without that knowledge can actually judge what happened. That, and no parent is perfect and keeps patience constantly, nor should one pretend to.

The way these two act and react to one another has to be a nature/nurture thing or something. I know it's not because of birth dates. My sister-in-law and I share a birthday. Is it just the different ways we've grown up? I really don't know. I just know to keep my nose out of it and let whatever will happen, happen. I just wish there were more clarity in the statements made.

"I am pissed off because..." makes so much more sense than talking about something else entirely. Confrontation is rarely pleasant, but damn, if something is bothering you, say it and let it out there so people know and don't have to try to read your mind. Anger is anger. It's not a sin. Blood pressure rises when you bottle it all up.

Thank you.

Forays into femininity

2011-05-25T19:40:00.000-05:00

How to find one's feminine side?

That's a question I've been pondering.

I've been working on a dress for myself for once. It's yellow. It's nice. And I screwed it up royally, but it's still fixable. I cut into the skirt while trimming a seam. Still not happy about it, but it's workable. So that didn't work out the way I thought it would.

So what else could I do find my feminine side?

We're heading out of town this weekend. We're going to stay in a hotel with a pool, and Kirstin just got a new swimsuit. Matt doesn't do pools and the like, so I'm going to have to be the one to go with her.

Cue hair removal.

I'm a shaver. It works well and I'm comfortable with it. But there's always a little bit of hair around the bikini line that I can never get. Hmm...So the last time we went shopping I found an at home waxing kit.

And no, I did NOT do my bikini area. Yet. I thought to be safe I'd try it in the arm pits first.

Tonight was the perfect evening to try my new hair removal system. Matt is at opening night for his play, and Kirstin is there along with Grandpa and Grandma. It's just Emily and me at home. Emily isn't as likely to remember any fun words I may use.

We had supper, I cleaned up, and then I got out the wax stuff, read the directions. Then I reread the directions, and read them one more time.

Into the microwave it went, and "spreadable" consistency was achieved.

Alright, this shouldn't be too difficult. Except for...

What they don't put on the box.

They don't tell you that this stuff is so sticky it could glue your grandmother to the ceiling. And it gets EVERYWHERE! So working with sticky fingers, and trying to not get wax all over the place, I apply it to my underarm. Then I wrestle to get one of the papers free (should have done that right away, before touching the wax), and put it over the applied wax. I tamp it down and pull.

And there was slight pain, but nothing too horrid. And no hair removed. What the heck?

There's wax on the paper still, so I apply it to my other underarm. Pat it down and pull...

OUCH! But still, not too bad. This time some hair came out. Huh. Must have used too much wax. I'll try it again on the otherside without adding any more wax. EUREKA! It worked. Alright. I can do this.

Until I realize Emily is watching me. She's raising her arms in the air one at a time and looking to her own little chubby underarms. And I think to myself: WHAT AM I TEACHING MY DAUGHTER??? (and no more hair is coming out, so I put it off as a bad job anyway).

Is hair other than on your head really that big of a deal? I think I'll go back to my razor and wear shorts over my swimsuit in the pool. It's more honest. That and I don't have to grow out the hair so long in order to take care of it. Just easier all around.

So instead, tonight I'll work on Kirstin's dress for the weekend. I made the pattern last night, and I'm going to sew it tonight. It should go pretty well. The neat part is that there's enough fabric left over I should be able to make a matching pair of shorts for her to wear underneath for when she's playing. Sewing is much more soothing than worrying about hair removal any day!

If you're going to take my money...

2011-05-04T20:21:00.000-05:00

...at least spend it on something classy!

That's what I told Matt today. And no, Matt is not taking my money. Some random person is.

This all started a few nights ago. I was in a Pogo (online gaming site) game room, and got booted out because "Someone with your username has just entered the room."

Uhh...Okay?

I tried to get back in. Same message. Huh. This seems weird, but maybe it's just a glitch somewhere.

I tried one more time. I got a message that the Pogo servers were having troubles. Okay, I guess that would explain it, but I'm still going to watch my bank account carefully. It still doesn't really feel right. I also had a doubt about it because we had just been to Matt's folks' place, and I sometimes play Pogo whilst I'm there. I didn't remember playing Pogo, but that doesn't mean much. That entire stay was a blur for me.

Fast forward to today. We had appointments in town, and I decided to make the most of my running around by going to the library and to the grocery store as well. At the grocery store I went to use my bank card to pay. The screen said the card was blocked. Huh?

I tried again. Again it said it was blocked. Hmm...I need to check this out. Instead I used our store charge account to pay and came home. I barely had everyone and everything in the door and I was at my computer checking on my bank account.

Sure enough, there were charges that I never put there. There were something like four $1.00 charges to the Apple Store and Netflix...Two services I have never used. Uh oh.

I called Matt first and left a message (he was at lunch yet). Then I got my brain going straight again, and I called the bank. First I got put through to customer service, and after verifying who I was and explaining my problem, I got put through to the fraud department where I had to go through the same verification process. Good to know they do that, too.

Turns out my bank was aware something was going on because charges were being made that were far out of my spending habits. They put a block on my account last night. Yay! I mean, it was a little bit of a hassle not being able to pay for groceries in the manner in which I wanted, but that's doable. Turns out the person/people that stole my card number tried to charge over $950.00 to QVC and something like $1500.00 to walmart.com.

Which is where my statement about taking my money comes from. QVC? Seriously? And walmart.com? I NEVER buy anything through walmart.com. I find their website incredibly difficult to use and can never find what I'm looking for anyway. Walmart is better experienced in the real world, in my opinion.

But the good thing is that I don't have to pay any of what the thieve(s) tried to take from me. My bank completely shut down that card number, and gave me a confirmation number to use to find out more about my case. I should have a new card in ten business days. In the meantime I can't use my account. That's fine. I can live without that for a little while just to have the peace of mind that it's cared for. Anything I would use my account for I can get by other means. I have a charge account at the grocery store. And a charge account at the local co-op for gas. Really, I don't foresee needing anything else for quite a while. I mean, it would be nice to be able to get Matt a birthday gift, but I will still have time after my account is usable again for that. In the meantime I can do a lot of looking and price comparisons. I love the research portion of stuff like that!

Oh and I changed my password and took my personal info off my Pogo account. I don't foresee this being a problem again through there.

But to anyone who would try to steal my money...Use it on something classy or useful, okay? At least try a charge at some upscale clothing store or something.

So much going on!

2011-04-03T11:58:00.000-05:00

I had this idea that I would be able to just sit down and write my play and have no issues with it. The words would just come to me and everything would be just dandy! Uh huh.

I'm finding it's a lot more difficult than I thought right at this moment. I do have one scene written. And now it's taking me everything I have to not go back and edit it right now. If I do it that way, I'll never get the thing written. And here's all these ideas ramming my brain and I can't get them out. If it's not one thing it's another.

First it was our sick cat. He was at the vet for 3 days and then we decided to put him down. Then I had to explain what death means to a four year old that's never experienced anything like that before. I still don't think she gets it. She knows George is in our freezer and that we're waiting to go bury him once the ground dries up some.

Then we got a new kitty, about 24 hours after George was put down. It seemed that he was gone longer though, because he wasn't at home. And now we're dealing with Felix and our new cat, Mongo, getting to know one another. It's going okay over all, but I think Felix will be the subordinate one again. Mongo is very much taking the lead. We honestly couldn't have found a cat that looks more different than George, either. The only common thing they have is that they're both tabbies. George was long, lean, and had a really long tail. Not to mention that he was orange. Mongo is short, stocky, and his tail is maybe about six inches long. He's a brown/black/gray tabby type. More formally known as an American Bobtail Cat. He even has the points on his ears like the breed is supposed to have. Personality wise the two cats are much the same. Very friendly, very playful, and usually up to some kind of trouble. So Mongo fits in beautifully with our family. He even talks! He doesn't just meow, he does a purring meow thing (chirrup?). I told Matt this morning that I think Mongo is part raccoon after how much he kept me awake last night talking like that.

And then there's the sick kid syndrome. Emily has got some kind of a tummy bug, poor thing. So I've been regularly having to change out her crib, take her temperature, administer medicine, and try to get her to eat and drink some. That's besides the baths to get her cleaned up after being sick. It's all part of the parent thing.

And if that's not enough to be doing, it was newsletter week at the church. I wound up having to retype the Pastor's Article again. While generally not a big deal, this one had me so worked up I had to take many breaks from typing so I could cool off. I never knew that Earth Day was a pagan celebration of Mother Earth. For me it's just been about awareness. Oh, and compact florescent lightbulbs aren't worth it, and do no good, and the US will lose sovereignty if it becomes part of the Kyoto treaty. Scare-mongering at it's finest. And people will believe this drivel, even though there are no sources given, just because it comes from a Pastor. Right. Pastor's are people too, and given to mistakes and idiocy, just like the general population. And being a Pastor's article, you would think there would be at least a few Bible verses stuck in there to guide Christians with their thinking. There was one. About being given the earth to subdue it. Genesis something or other. And that has what to do with his rant? I'm still trying to figure out that one.

And all that Earth Day crud was headed by a list of the minor holidays in April. Of which Administrative Professionals Day is one. His comment about that? "Some card company hopes we all observe that one." Yup. I'm not worth a thank you card I guess. Gee, thanks Pastor for really trying to make me feel like I do an important job. Do you even think about how words will affect others? Obviously not. Of course this happens just as I'm starting to feel good about my job again. At least the congregation thanks me for my effort. If I didn't have that I wouldn't be able to keep going with tit. I take pride in the work I do. I make sure it looks the best I can make it. GAH!

Bitter? Nah, not any more. Needing another meeting with Pastor? Probably. Will it happen? Hopefully. We'll see. And yes, the writing helped.

So, onto my next week. It will be a good one. I will make it be a good one. I have that power to do that. Not anyone else. WRITE ON! I WILL GET MY PLAY WRITTEN!
My goal for the week is stated now. I will accomplish it.

A Pictorial Ode to George

2011-03-30T20:21:00.000-05:00

George is still at the vet. We all went to see him today. He's incredibly thin. He's now down to 12 pounds. For him that's skin and bone, practically. It was surreal to pick him up and not have to heft him at all. He was very lethargic from the meds and the like he received today. His prognosis is not looking good. We're probably going to give him another day or so to see if the new meds work or not, and if not, he's not coming home. He will be very missed. He's our first pet.

We got him in February of 2002 from the Alexandria Animal Shelter. He was by far the most awesome cat there! The worker was taking us around the cat room and showing us the different cats. We got to George and she said, "And this little fella's name is George. We can't put a tag up for him because he keeps ripping it down."

All we saw was an orange paw sticking out of the cage. The worker left us to see if we could make a decision. The first cat I grabbed out of a cage was George. He snuggled right up in my arms. He was very vibrant and ALIVE. I handed him to Matt, and he snuggled into his arms too and then licked Matt's nose! We knew he was the cat for us. I still took one other cat out of its cage and held it, and it just sat in my arms like dead weight. George was definitely the right choice. We took him home that very night. A quick stop by Wal-Mart to get the needed items for owning a cat, and we were on our way. He is/was many things to us:

Our forever curious kitty, always investigating

Our playful kitty, playing with whatever he could find. Sometimes he would try to hide toys under his belly and then look around like he didn't know where it went.


Our confused kitty. Sometimes he acted more like a dog than a cat.

Our sharing kitty. He liked to share Dad's lap with the babies (Kirstin here).

Our dirty kitty. Any time he could get outside in the dirt, he would do this. He would come in gray and wouldn't turn orange for a while.

Our clean kitty. Sometimes he needed help. I haven't done this in a long time.

Our annoyed kitty. Especially when I wouldn't let him rest or would purposely pet his belly. I came away with many scratches from trying that too often.

Our personable kitty. He generally loved being around visitors and the like.

Our catable? cat. Only with Felix though. Any other cats and he would fight. He and Felix had many fights at first, but then became good friends with only an occasional skirmish. Usually in the middle of the night. On our bed.

Our long tailed cat. He was forever getting in the way with his tail.

And sometimes he didn't seem to understand his tail was part of him. He would catch it to clean it.

Our tired kitty. He looks so ferocious when he yawns!

Our resting kitten. And let me say, he was always a good foot warmer in the night.

Our patient kitty, especially with our girls.

Our supportive kitty. He liked to help. Or get some love. Whichever.


A member of our family. He would often try to get in on the photo shoots.

And so we say good bye to a wonderful orange cat. George, Georgous Gorge, Long Tail Stinky Butt, Little Demon, you'll be missed greatly. Thank you for all your wonderfulness over the years. Love ya, buddy.

One of THOSE days

2011-03-21T12:59:00.000-05:00

I'm having one of THOSE days today. A four year old that won't listen or do anything but torment her sister, a baby that's into everything and keeps getting stuck behind the rocking chair, no matter what I put there to block her way, and a sick cat that just hides under our bed and pukes for us. Great.

Yet, during the chorus of:
Don't do that!
Emily, NO!
Kirstin, stop!
What fell now?!
No, you cannot get that out right now!

All I can think about it my play. I'm wondering if I need a cohesive plot or if I can get by with a bunch of somewhat unrelated scenes. My plan for now is to just write the unrelated scenes and see how it reads. If it seems too fragmented I'll put in a plot line for filler. That seems to be the backward way to write a play, but it's working for me.

I've made my prerequisite phone calls for the day. I called the vet to see if we could do something about George the Cat's medication. We can't get him to take it. The one time we got a pill down his throat he vomited it up right away. So the vet is changing it to a liquid of something else. That should go easier for us. I also called the clinic to get Kirstin in for her 4 year check-up. That's on Wednesday. I'm pretty certain she has shots coming. I really hope her daddy can be there because she's going to scream. And I called in a refill for my prescrip so I can sleep again at night. My mind's been going too fast and I can't slow it down. Too many minutes passed by on my clock last night with my knowledge.

But on the better side, I'm coming out of my winter funk finally. There are times I swear I have part of me that hibernates or something. I think that part came back for the warmer weather now. I'm feeling more upbeat in general. I actually WANT to be around people again. I don't have to force myself as much. And I have a good excuse to have friends over. Angie just got back from visiting her family in Texas for two weeks. I missed her greatly during that time. Catch up time is always a good excuse!

So here's to the rest of the day, and making it be brighter. I'm thinking naps for the three of us here. Soft snores from my girls will be a wonderful sound.

I did it!

2011-03-15T11:49:00.000-05:00

Very excited. I did it. I took the plunge, I walked the wire, I ate the spicy pepper? How else can I phrase that?

I joined Script Frenzy. I played with the idea for weeks now, ever since Mary mentioned it to me. I just signed up. I know I will get nowhere near 100 pages. I just want to write my one little script. Instead of earlier ideas, I've found something else. A fun look at communication. The idea came to me as I watched teens texting, tweeting, facebooking, etc. And from my own conversations with the dear supportive husband.

I have this tendency to not voice all my thoughts when I talk to him. I have ideas and the like, and I'll start in the middle of the conversation. Then I have to backtrack after saying, "Oh, you weren't there for that part of the conversation, were you?"

And of course he wasn't. It was all in my head.

A good example:
I'll be thinking about getting something for Kirstin for her birthday, and I'll start the conversation with Matt like this:

Me: You know, I don't know if that would be a good idea for Kirstin.
Matt: Umm...What?
Me: Well, the thing I was thinking earlier.
Matt: Okay...
Me: Oh, you weren't there for that part of the conversation, were you?

That type of conversation happens often. Maybe it's from being with the kids so much, I don't know. We laugh every time it happens though. Then I have to go back and fill him in on what he missed. If he could just read minds, life would be easier.

But so excited, and so much to do! Oh boy...I can do this, I can do this, I can do this....

Birthdays and Cold Feet

2011-03-14T12:49:00.000-05:00

This was taken in May of this last year. It doesn't reflect how grown up she is now, but does show how pixie-like she is. My baby is four today! She's lost a lot of her pudginess and is growing up so fast! Sometimes I wish life just had a pause button. It's bad enough that I have to get older, but my kids have to get older too?

Of course, Kirstin finds turning a year older great fun. And why wouldn't she? This year we had a party planned for her, but it got postponed due to weather. Instead Grandpa and Grandma stayed the night at our house and she got her "big gift" from us: a new to her wooden train set, complete with table and storage drawers. We went against our own advice and got something big, once again. And because Grandpa and Grandma stayed with us, she got to help pump up their air mattress, and how fun is that!?

And on top of all of that, the next morning we went to church, and Grandpa and Grandma went with us. After church, instead of Sunday School, she got to have her birthday party with all of her friends and her other set of grandparents too! Yay! She got to play games and eat cake and ice cream right after church.

And now she's officially four. As of six o'clock this morning. I feel a little old when she says, "And next year I'll be five and can ride the school bus!" It's been a wonderful four years, and cheers for another wonderful year to come!

Now, on the serious side...

I HATE COLD FEET AT NIGHT! And no, I'm not talking about Matt's. I'm talking about my own. Lately my feet have had their own thermostat or something. The heat turns off as soon as they hit the sheets. And those toes get downright icy. I have an absolutely wonderful husband who allows me to put them on his warm legs and indeed, he'll put his legs over them to help warm them up. And that's great. It works, somewhat. But, then inevitably I'll have to move back to my own side of the bed and once again they get icy. I even put them under my own legs in an attempt to warm them up. Nothing seems to work. Not even a cat sleeping on them works. Socks don't work either. I just have to tough it through until they warm up. Because of course I can't sleep until they do get warm. I even go through a nightly ritual of "mind over matter" and imagine the heat from the rest of my body flowing down to my feet. And they still remain rather frigid. Ugh.

And yet, once I do get to sleep, I wake up and toss the covers off because I'm too warm. Is there no happy medium?

I will achieve the just right temperature sometime. I just don't know when. And until then...TV turned low, captions on, and mixed attempts to regulate...It's all I can do.

Hulabaloo

2011-02-02T13:16:00.000-06:00

You know how you do some things just by a general routine? Like some people automatically put their bag or purse on the passenger’s seat in the car or you have a certain order of getting cleaned up in the shower or something? I have a certain order for getting the girls in and out of the car when I’m the only adult with them. If anything screws up that order, chaos ensues.

We’ve had an interesting morning around here. I’m just glad that we’re home again and I have a little more control over the events of the day.

It all started just fine with a trip to the doctor for Emily for her Well-Baby checkup. She’s doing great, growing and big and healthy aside from her cold. And it was her cold that got us into trouble later.

As we left the clinic, we saw our friends’ vehicle parked next to ours. Jill is pregnant and due in early March, so this wasn’t very surprising. We just took note of it and got into our car and left. I dropped off Matt at his office, and away went the girls and me for Willie’s Super Valu, Home of the People Lovers!

I promised Kirstin something special for breakfast if she just wouldn’t complain too much about being hungry while at the doctor’s office. The great mother I am, I was only able to get Emily fed this morning before we left for the appointment.

We turned into the Willie’s parking lot and found a space. As I turned the key in the ignition, I looked in the rearview mirror to see how Emily was doing.

She had snot running out of her nose and into her mouth. It was gross! So I figured I’d just clean her up a little before heading into the store. I got out of the car, opened Kirstin’s door, got her unbuckled so she could get out, told her stay right next to the car, and headed over to the other side for Emily. Not thinking, I did as I always do when I get her out. I tossed the keys next to the car seat. Then I reached over her and grabbed a tissue and got her cleaned up. I got her unbuckled and out of the car and shut the door. By now you can see where this is going.

I walked over to Kirstin, shut her door and did my accustomed gesture: I checked my pockets for my keys.

There was no misshapen bulge where they keys usually sit in the pocket.

I checked again. Nope, still not feeling anything. Hmm…

One thing to understand about my car: it gives you seven seconds after closing the door until it actually locks. Knowing this, I shot my arm out to Kirstin’s door again.

And it locked just as I pulled up on the handle.

CRUD! (My real words were a little different, but you get the picture.)

Well, I did some fast thinking as I walked into the store with the girls. Matt has an extra key for my car on his key ring. I would just see if I could find someone with whom to leave the girls for a minute and go back out to the car and make sure the keys were in it. We grabbed a cart; I put Emily in the child seat, and walked into the store. And there was Julie, the girls’ adopted Grandmother and checker extraordinaire. She had no problem taking a second to watch them while I ran out. And sure enough, there they were, sitting next to the car seat. Because of the added movement of cleaning up Emily with the tissue, my routine was thrown off and they stayed there.

Now I knew for a fact I had to call Matt and see if he could come down with the extra key. So, I asked Julie to use the phone, and called him. Of course, more bad luck. I just got his voicemail. I didn’t know if he was in a meeting or not. I didn’t know how long we would be stuck at the store. I figured I could at least buy some breakfast and get Kirstin fed, so we started heading to the bakery section for some doughnuts. I thought we could sit in the seating area while we waited and have some breakfast. As we headed that way, I looked through the door, and who should be coming in but Jill and Erik and their youngest, soon to be middle child, Owen. Yay!

They came in and we made small talk about how cold it is and all that, and I told them my predicament. We did some shopping, and then Jill took my girls with her while Erik and I went in search of Matt. Low and behold, he was already on his way, and we met him on the road. So, we turned around and went back to Willie’s. Matt unlocked my car, all three of us went in to the store, we found Jill, chatted for a few minutes longer, and then left.

What I thought would take maybe ten minutes in the store turned into more than a half hour debacle. All because Emily has a cold.

Creative Inspiration

2011-01-31T13:33:00.000-06:00

Matt and I spent the day in Montevideo on Saturday. It was our annual pilgrimage there for the sub-section one-act play contest. We go to support the Renville kids and just generally have a good time. This year there were six plays produced. And even though Renville didn't go on, they did a wonderful job. Their play, "Loonies and Snatchers," had the most energy and was incredibly hilarious. The co-directors, whom we know through the school channels, did a wonderful job with these young upstart actors. Most of the kids in the play were found in seventh grade, three years ago. Now Diane, one of the directors, would like to produce a play that would highlight two of their boys. She mentioned that as kind of a one-off comment, as though it just won't be able to happen...And that started my mind going.

On the way back to Matt's folks' place, I thought, why can't it happen? And now an idea is forming. Can I write a play that would be of competition quality? I don't know, but I'm sure going to find out. First though, I have some research to do. I'm going to pull from Greek/Roman mythology for this one, and have maybe up to three principal characters, and then any number can be in the chorus, which will provide other characters and scenery as needed. One-act is really a minimalist type of production. I'm excited to see if this will turn out. And if it does, I'll present it to Diane in September. That gives me plenty of time to fine tune the script.

I have a feeling the script is going to be the easy part. The directors will have the tough part of producing it. The actors will have the tough part of becoming the characters.

Oh how fun this is going to be!

Women will understand

2011-01-17T21:26:00.000-06:00

“Holy crap! I have boobs!”

That was the first thing that came out of my mouth as I tried on one of my new bras tonight.

I’ve been feeling somewhat down that none of my bras fit anymore. I felt like everything was sagging and getting smaller; a byproduct of nursing, I guess. When I was nursing Emily (and Kirstin when she was that little) I loved the way I looked. My waistline was small, and my breasts were full and round. I just felt better about my appearance in general. Some of that wonderful appearance stayed with me after Kirstin was weaned, but now that Emily is weaned, it all went away. It’s like I’ve been carrying around two saggy half-filled balloons or something. And they are supported by an expanded waistline. I haven’t gained weight at all; I just have a tummy that shows my two pregnancies. So, with the smaller breasts and larger tummy, I needed some retail therapy.

I have no need for nursing bras anymore and I’ve been getting by with one “good” bra and several sports bras for the past three or four months. In general, I hate shopping for clothes, bras especially. I can’t find anything that supports the “girls” they way I like. But then again, I tend to shop at Wal-Mart for underclothing. I found out tonight a few dollars makes a big difference when shopping for bras. We went to the mall and shopped at Penney’s for new church shoes for me and new bras. Matt took the kids and walked around whilst I made my decision. There was a good buy one get one half off deal going on, so I was pretty excited. I mean, REALLY excited. I was finally going to get some support that didn’t just flatten things out and make my waistline really show up! Yay!

And I went into this shopping trip prepared. Matt measured me for the correct size. The first few that I found and liked only came in larger sizes…Sizes I used to fit, but no longer. It was turning more difficult than I thought. I moved to a different rack (hee hee) and found all super small sizes for those women who need a little bit of support, or young ladies who are just starting to bloom can start there and move up later on. Still nothing in my size. Then I turned one last time, about to give up, and there they were. The perfect bras! Yay! I got one for just general everyday go about town stuff, and one I got “to make me feel pretty.”

It’s amazing what some technology can do to cleavage. I mean, the everyday bra looks good, feels good, and gives all the support I could wish for, while still streamlining the shape. Then there’s the “pretty” bra. A little lace and some added features. It was that bra that caused me to rediscover my boobs. I mean…Wow. I love retail therapy!

Incidentally, my need for shoes came from the pregnancies as well. My feet just didn’t fit into what I lovingly call my hooker boots anymore. I love my tall boots that zip up on the side, but cramming my feet into them these past few weeks for church has caused some problems. My feet started to cramp up as I was walking, my knees started to give trouble again, and it was just an all around unpleasant experience. So, new shoes were on my list. I found some, and they are nice, don’t get me wrong, but they’re not my hooker boots. Oh well, at least now Kirstin won’t hear the term “hooker boots” again. I won’t have to worry about her using that around the wrong people.

Oh, and about the job front: I have heard nothing and tomorrow is technically the start date. I’m going to keep looking for something, though. I have to keep looking. My sanity won’t let me stay where I’m at for much longer. Too much chaos is involved right now.

But something good has come from the chaos. Matt and I have learned (or reiterated) that bras are not the only support for us. We have many friends who have helped us through and it’s good to not feel alone when times get tough.

Peace Be With You!

2010-12-24T15:31:00.002-06:00

This Christmas season has been rough. There’s no denying it. And it seems as though everything came crashing down today. So I decided to do something for myself. I’m giving myself a Christmas gift.

There are times when I wish that gift would be something chocolate, or some wine, and normally it would be. I mean come on, why not unwind a little bit and relax? But this year, I’m giving myself something different. I’m giving myself peace.

I can finally have peace of mind. This comes after God has kicked me around a bit. I’ve had my Job time this year. And unfortunately, I haven’t come out of it with my faith as intact as Job’s, but I’m working on it. Everyone goes through these times. I’ve fought my depression as if it’s a huge war I’m waging. Now I’m calling a truce, at the very least, and hopefully this will be a full all out stop to the war.

What is happening is that I’ve finally realized, to the fullest extent, that my place is not working for the church. See, here’s the deal. A while back there was a job opening at the local elementary school for someone to teach reading and be a playground aide. I considered, but then backed away from it through fear of the unknown. However, after being kicked around a bit more, there are two more openings. One at the elementary again, and this is the kicker: there’s one at the high school! The ages in which I am most adept at teaching! It’s only for the second semester of the school year, and no promises after that (the local school didn’t meet Annual Yearly Progress, which means they have to do something about the test scores). I really feel that I’m being led toward this. I can’t explain why. I just do. So I’ll try for it. If I get it, wonderful! If I don’t…Well, we’ll work that out later. I also know not to quit the job at the church quite yet. I still need that income to help me out until I know for sure what will happen with this job.

So, with a plan in place, I give myself peace. Granted I may need some help from the friendly local pharmacist (Xanax is wonderful still!), but overall I will have peace. I will let go of what I cannot control. I will not worry about it. I will be fine. So peace be with you! (If you’re Lutheran, I dare you to not answer, even in your mind: And also with you!)

Enjoying Kirstin

2010-10-04T10:38:00.001-05:00

We had a wonderful weekend this past weekend. We had to go visit Matt's folks because we were out of hamburger. You never realize how much you need hamburger until you don't have any. At least in this household. So, we made the trip down to the Minnesota River Valley.

While we were there, I finally had a chance to have some time with Kirstin. That doesn't happen nearly as often as it should right now. Emily takes up a lot of my care and time and while I try to give Kirstin the attention she craves, it sometimes doesn't happen very well. Especially with a teething baby that will cry if she's not in my arms.

But I was finally able to hand the fussy baby over to Grandma and take some time with Kirstin. There were some kittens in the window well in our room in the basement. It's a very deep window well, and there was no way the mother cat (who is tiny!) would be able to get them out of there on her own. I felt sorry for the poor little things who were just huddled in a corner trying to keep warm. Their eyes were open and they were moving around some, so they weren't just born, but still young enough that they needed a lot of attention from Mama Cat. So, to spend some time with Kirstin, she and I made a kitty house. Matt went down to the shop and got an old mineral bucket and cut a door in the side of it so we could put it upside down and the cats would have a warmer, more protected place to live. Then Kirstin and I hopped on the gator and went to find a big rock and some straw. I was going slower than I normally would because Kirstin was with me. Finally, she looked at me and asked, "Mom, can't you make this thing GO?"

I obliged. She did fine. I did ask Matt when we got done running our errands if he goes fast with her in the gator, and he fessed up. He does.

Kirstin and I put the straw in the mineral bucket, upended it, patted down the straw a little bit, and then put the big rock on top of it to keep it from blowing away in the wind. We had a perfect kitty house! Kirstin ran around the yard and kept finding leaves to decorate it, and finally she pronounced it "beautiful!"

Matt helped us get the kittens by getting into the window well and handing them to me. They're wild, so they did not like being taken up into human hands. I got bit and scratched and hissed at (which by the way, a small kitten hissing is absolutely hilarious to me). I put them in their new home and then we left them so Mama Cat could find them again. They did not stay in the house we made for them, but they did move to the bushes on the side of the house, so they have more cover there than they did in the window well.

After all that, Kirstin, Matt, and I went for another gator ride. Matt grabbed a plastic lawn chair from the deck and put it in the back of the machine and sat upon his throne like the royalty he is (royal pain?). He had a lot of fun as we went up to see the old school bus. We had to go through some old pasture land with many gopher hills. Then we went to see the cows. By this time Kirstin was nearly falling asleep in her seat, so we cut the ride short and headed up to the house again. On the way back we stopped and grabbed some gourds to dry and paint from the trailer Grandma Millie put them on. Kirstin had fun picking out some for herself and making the acquaintance of the barn cat, Swen. He's a lovey cat, and jumped right up on the gator for some pets.

Later on after supper, I got Emily squared away with Matt and a bottle, and Kirstin and I went to the hot tub. It was chilly out, but that made it even more perfect to be in the hot tub. We got to hear some geese, see the stars, and just play, laugh, and relax. She started to do the Hokey Pokey in the hot tub, but I stopped her just as she slipped and swallowed some water. We got out, and we raced back to the door to go in, and then to the bathroom so she could take a shower. She did her rendition of the Hokey Pokey in the shower for me. Then, after getting all cleaned up, she got wrapped in a towel again and gave Grandpa and Grandma a naked rendition of the Hokey Pokey. We were all laughing so much.

It was a very good day spent with Kirstin. She's such a loving and caring little thing and it's amazing to me to see how much she knows and can do. She changes so much every day. I'm not going to let myself miss out on that.

Focused

2010-09-17T09:27:00.000-05:00

Okay, so maybe not focused in the same way....

But I am focused. On getting better, on beating this depression again, on getting my life back on track. The first steps are done. Emily is weaned (sniff, sniff) and I'm on my meds again. It was a rocky first couple of weeks getting back on the meds. Dizziness, anyone? But now that I've been taking them for a few weeks that's abated and I can focus on getting life going.

Right now I'm at the point of, "so what if my house is a mess? So what if I'm not a super mom?" Did you know that the sun is shining and it's a beautiful, cool, fall day? Okay, so the messy house is bothering me a bit, but that will resolve itself over the weekend. I'm having more fun with conversations and finding joy in them. It's always a good time when a conversation about a flier a county commissioner candidate gives you goes something like this:
Matt: Hey, where did this Steve Storck thing come from?
Me: Steve Storck.
Matt: I know that, but where did it come from?
Me: No, seriously, Steve Storck came by and dropped it off.
Matt: Oh! What'd that know you then?

Sometimes you may just need to know Matt and me to know how funny that would come off.
I've also focused on other small things, like watching the neighbor's cat stalking a slimy, yucky salamander. Orange tabby tail straight in the air, and Schwan pounces, only to run away very soon after licking like crazy. Silly kitty!

One of the bigger things I've focused on is eating better and losing the baby fat. I've lost the weight (actually, more than the weight), just not the shape. I know round is a shape, but I miss seeing my hips when I lie down. I'm not looking for my high school body or anything like that, but just something a little more toned.

I got over the high school body thing this summer. We were at Matt's folks' place and went swimming in the pit. It was an incredibly hot day and a swim felt so good. Soon the intimacy was jarred by a bunch of high school kids running down to the water. All the girls were in little bikinis with their perfect, youthful bodies. And I felt old, used up, and soft. I left soon after with the excuse that Emily wasn't handling the heat well. As I showered soon after going back up to the house, I had a quick cry, and then I pulled myself back up. Their bodies hadn't done what mine had. My body grew two babies and brought them into the world. My body nursed and nurtured those babies. My body chased after one of those babies so far, and will chase after the next one all too soon. So yeah, I may be soft around the edges, but damn it! My body is beautiful because it has done beautiful things! That and in ten years, those with the little bikinis may be feeling the same thing.

That personal pep talk has gone a long way toward bolstering my self image. Are there days I'd like to change things about me? Yes, most every day. Then I remember the talk I gave myself, and say, "I'm beautiful to those who matter, everyone else can go..."

So now that I've had my rant on something completely not on the topic, go focus on something worthy today. Don't worry about your own looks, don't worry about the little stuff, but celebrate the good.

Crash and Burn

2010-08-28T15:34:00.000-05:00

I know I've been very remiss about writing lately. There's been so much going on this month, and here I've written about very little. I do have one post that I've hand written. I just have to type it up and post it. This post won't be that one though.

I've been having some rather large problems with my depression again. If a day goes by without crying right now, I can mark it on the calendar and have a celebration. And I truly thank the Lord for good friends. Without them I'd be incredibly lost right now.

I don't know what happened last weekend, but something must have. On Monday, instead of following my usual routine for the morning, I just sat on the couch. Then around 10:30 or so I realized I had some pretty high anxiety and I couldn't control it. I couldn't control my breathing, I was crying, I was shaking. And because of that,I thought I was going to pass out. What a joy that would be for Kirstin to find me on the floor or something. After a lot of online messaging with Matt, I finally called Angie. She came and helped me screw my head on straight and keep it there. I was barely able to take care of my girls. I had Kirstin give Emily a bottle after I put Emily in her high chair. Kirstin's lunch consisted of crackers, peanut butter, and beef jerky. It was the best I could do. I had planned on making eggs and toast, but I didn't feel I could handle even something as simple as that.

Once Angie got there, she didn't expect me to talk about what was going on, but just went with the flow of things. She kept reminding me of what I was starting to do so that I could accomplish things. She took care of my girls for a little bit until I felt competent again. I got a shower, some laundry done, and got the bottles filled (I usually do that right away in the morning). Once I felt able, I talked to Angie about it. I told her I just didn't know what exactly happened. Then to hear Kirstin say, "Mommy is crying a lot today." It just about broke my heart. We got things figured out, and my Matt brought her Matt out (they're the Matts of Computing Services on campus) and we had a nice supper and some time with friends. I still don't know exactly what happened. I'm pretty boggled about it all still.

I did have an appointment with my psychiatrist on Wednesday. I described it to her, and she said it sounds like a real panic attack. I walked out of there with a prescription for Xanax and Cymbalta. The Xanax I'm supposed to take at night for help to sleep and to take during the day for anxiety as needed. I start the Cymbalta tomorrow. I can probably expect about two weeks of dizziness until my body gets used to the meds again. That should really help me out. I'm hoping the Cymbalta takes care of some of the anxiety as well. It's still sky high, and I can't force myself to leave the house all the time. My mental cheerleader has just thrown down her pom poms and left for a little bit. I'm making my way back though.

So, where to from here? I figure I can only go up. I had everything together as well as I possibly could for so long. I guess it was only a matter of time before something happened. I think I slipped back about halfway again. So, up we go, and the climbing continues!

Just a Day

2010-07-26T13:22:00.000-05:00

We've been having interesting times around here lately. Not that anything huge has happened, but just that everything seems huge as it approaches. I've been having a tough time of just going about daily business lately. That really makes me scared. I know I probably should go on the pills again, but I'm trying to fight my way through instead. I have to force myself to leave the house and be among people again. That's never good. That was one of the main signs of depression for me earlier on. And now that Vacation Bible School is going on, I have no choice but to leave my little "queendom" and go. Unfortunately, Xanax and nursing don't go together very well, or else I'd have something to take the edge off the anxiety. Instead, I have to curb the nausea, force myself to eat something, and just make myself go and do what I need to do. And this is to go out among friends at the church. I do have the office to retreat to there, so I can hide a little bit. Not that hiding helps anything, but I do get a little refuge to pull myself together. There is one night this week that I'm not going in, and the neighbor will pick up Kirstin and bring her there for me. I plan on doing some mental health exercises whilst she's gone and Matt has Emily. Hopefully I can get myself back together for a while.

It's something else entirely when I have to face being among strangers. Heck, just going to the grocery store is becoming a huge mental chore. I have to cheer myself on just to get through it. Then I wonder why I'm getting knots in my back again. Ugh. But I look at the girls' smiles and I know I have to just keep going. I can't seclude myself. I WON'T be one of those people. But yeah, I may wind up on the pills again. But first, I have to wean Emily, and I'm just not willing to do that quite yet. In the meantime, I'm rereading a book, "Get it Done When You're Depressed" by Julie A Fast and John D. Preston and trying to do what it says. I have to, so I can be a better mom to my girls. I'm the female role model around here, and I sure don't want Matt teaching them some of the things about being a girl. That's just a scary thought in general. I wonder how he would react to Kirstin asking about bras like she did the other day...

But on a positive note, I've been a breast milk queen. I pump once a day and freeze it special bags. I have almost 4 gallons frozen now. I just took a tally the other day. I was amazed. I've been pumping once a day from the very beginning. I wasn't going to start pumping till Emily was about a month old, but then she wound up in the NICU. This is one of those positive things to come from that. That and the fact that we had to apply for Medical Assistance to cover part of the bill (insurance has since covered it) and that put us on WIC again. Free food is always good. And now we get fresh fruits and veggies, brown rice, bread or tortillas and the like too. We never got that kind of stuff when I was on it with Kirstin. It's a wonderful program and I recommend it to anyone who may be able to be on it.

Another positive thing that's been happening is getting a schedule going for the girls again. It took a while, but now we've got a routine down, and it's absolutely wonderful. The money I spent on that blanket for Emily was very well spent. She has yet to break out of it, even when she travels the crib during the night. She sleeps later in the morning, so that means I can sleep too. So now she eats at 7:00 a.m., 11:00 a.m., 1:00 p.m., 5:00 p.m., 7:00 p.m., and 9:00 p.m. She sleeps in the morning from about 9:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m. and then sleeps again from about 1:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m., and then goes to bed at 9:00 p.m. Very rarely does she vary from this when we're home. So that helps me plan for more activities with Kirstin. I can sit down with her and just read a book again, and be able to cuddle her more as I do it. And I know all this will get easier as time goes on. Kirstin is learning to read a little bit now too, so we have fun picking out words that she knows in her books.

So there is a lot going on right now, but none of it big. I just have to remember that.

Survival of the fittest?

2010-07-23T08:42:00.000-05:00

Survival of the fittest or just plain stupidity? I'm opting for the latter. In the past week I've come across two "news" stories of people being stupid when it comes to wild animals. The first one is this:

Baby skunk with rabies

Okay, so some people think skunks are cute, and they wanted to help out. I get that. But, this is not a tame animal! Skunks are known carriers of rabies! At what point in time does someone NOT think, "Oh, maybe I should just leave it alone and let animal control take over?" Seriously. Now because of those actions, many people have to go through what I've heard is a very painful process of injections so they don't have to suffer the effects of rabies.
Honestly. No one even thought of a quarantine period for said skunk? Nope, let's just invite all our friends and family to come meet the animal. Isn't it a cute little thing? Look at it, stomping toward us. Oh, hey, it's sick. Maybe we should go to the vet. What? Rabies? Hope it's a fun reunion at the doc's office while you're getting the injections.

The second story is this one (video):

Bison Attack

What were these people thinking? "Oh, they're like cows grazing in a field- how pastoral!" Umm, no. First of all, cows can be dangerous too. You have a large creature get in a mood to run you down, and see how you do. Yeah. Not fun. Been there, done that. I watched Matt get run over by a calf (and worried about our chances of having children afterward, but luckily the calf stepped on his thigh instead). There's a reason farm stores sell cattle prods. It's not a fun thing. Yeah, for the most part cows just go on chewing their cud when you're in the pasture, because they have been tamed. But there are times...

However, bison are wild. If you piss one off your chances of getting away are slim. Why were these people out of their vehicle? They would have had a better chance to get away then. Just roll down the window and take the footage. The zoom function on cameras work wonders when you want a closer shot. I just plainly don't understand.

Then I think about it more. Are we as a nation so insulated from the "wild" that when we see it we have no idea what's safe? I realize I'm lucky, as are my kids. We live in the country. We have access to animals. We have a wildlife area right across the road. We get any number of birds, mammals, etc. coming through our yard. And as a child, I was taught to respect nature. I was taught what God gave the animals for their protection and to respect it. I was taught to be wise and weary. Because of that, I will never be the one running for my life from a bison, or the one to take a skunk into my home.

My girls too, are going to learn the same. For us, it's part of being a parent. But then there are the kids-and adults- who never see anything other than the occasional robin in their yards. I believe that's sad. And it's these people who will believe taking a wild animal into their homes is fine. It's these people who won't use common sense.

Now, I'm not too pleased by my tame animals right now either. Our cats were out of food. Therefore they tried to eat the plants. The result is less than pleasing, and takes some carpet cleaner to fix. Ugh. So, I'm going to sit back, relax (now that I cleaned up the cat puke), watch the animals come in from across the road, and tell Kirstin and Emily all about them.

Why? Why? Why?

2010-07-11T21:34:00.000-05:00

"Tell me why the stars do shine

Tell me why the ivy twines

Tell me why the sky is blue

And I'll tell you just why I love you."

"Why?" has become the word used most often by Kirstin as of late. And to tell the truth; she's driving me insane. "Why do we have hands and arms?"

"Why do we have stairs?"

"Why do we need electricity?"

"Why?"

It's enough to drive anyone crazy! And the general answers aren't enough for her either.

"Why do we have hands and arms?"

"Because God made us that way honey."
"But WHY?"

"Because that's what he wanted to do."

"WHY?" This said with a little more insistence. She gets a look from me as I'm trying to finish changing a diaper, get supper started, or just take a breather.

"Go ask your father."

Yes, sometimes I pass it off onto other people. Sometimes she's just too smart for some of the answers I give.

"Why do we have stairs?"
"How else would we get upstairs?"

A roll of the eyes, a hand on the hip as she sticks it out and a very sarcastic response: "Well, there ARE elevators, you know."

Silly me, I didn't think of that. Other times I just give her something to really think about when she asks "why" too many times.

"Why do we need electricity?" asked as we were in the car on the way to Alexandria. We passed some wind turbines. She knows that they give us electricity and that electricity runs pretty much everything in our house. This is a question I've answered many times before. Hence my long winded reply.

"Well, Kirstin, it's called the progress of man. Man is always looking for new and/or safer ways of doing work. Before man harnessed electricity and made it do the work for us, everything was much more difficult and took much more time for us to accomplish our tasks. Electricity helps with many of the tasks we do in our daily lives."

"Oh."

Meanwhile, Matt is driving and snickering at my response. I gave him a look, and asked the reason for his laughter. His response: "You just answered in a way that I would have answered."

See, the difference is that he isn't home with her 24/7 and I am. I take the brunt of the questions. After a while I have to insert a snarky long winded reply just so I don't have to constantly hear Kirstin's voice during the day.

There are times when I think I just can't take all the questions anymore. Every time I even take two second to run to the bathroom, I get asked, "Why do you have to go to the bathroom, mom?" And to think I have another child that will go through all this in a few years. Yikes! I guess I can just take it day to day and try not to get too frustrated at having my every move analyzed by a three year old asking "Why?"

And tomorrow I'm sure I will have to answer many new questions beginning with "why."

Domesiticity gone masochistic

2010-07-02T22:39:00.000-05:00

Today I did what Matt calls "going all domestic and stuff". Essentially that means I either A) got out the sewing machine to do more than just general repair; B) tried an entirely new recipe just to see what would happen; C) baked a bunch of stuff; or D) cleaned the house from top to bottom, including reorganizing everything.

Today's domesticity revolved around the sewing machine. I wanted to make Emily a new swaddling blanket of a type she wouldn't kick off in the middle of the night. I made the pattern on Wednesday, and bought the fabric yesterday. Today I sat down and made the blanket. It turned out pretty well for a random attempt at making something of which I've only seen pictures. I made the pattern myself, and had it all in my mind as to how I wanted it to turn out. And for once, it really did turn out the way I had envisioned.

Basically, the blanket has two arms to it-- one short and one long.
The baby is laid down in the middle section, and the short arm wraps around first to tuck him/her in.

Then the long arm wraps around from the other side and goes completely around the baby.

I've seen this type of blanket elsewhere selling for more money than I was willing to spend. A lot of blankets like this also have a little "footie sac" in them to put the baby's feet and legs into. I didn't make one for Emily's blanket, however, because I just plainly couldn't wrap my head around how to do that and still have it be a reversible blanket. Of course, now I have an idea as to how that could work, but I'm still not sure of the practicality of it.

So, after pinning the pattern on, I saw I would have plenty of fabric left over. I decided to make a smaller version of the blanket for Kirstin to use with her baby doll. No problem, I just did the math to get the ratios correct after taking a few measurements of her doll. Her blanket turned out better than Emily's because now I was really getting into the sewing stuff. I still had little bits of fabric left over. I just couldn't let those go to waste, either in the garbage, or sitting in the attic waiting for future use. I eyed up Kirstin's doll. Hmm...I can make pajamas for this doll. It shouldn't be very hard, especially as it doesn't move when I'm trying to get any measurements.

Boy, was I in for a surprise! There is a fine line when something a person generally enjoys doing turns into a form of masochism. Masochism isn't quite the right word, as that connotes a level of enjoyment through the pain that just wasn't there at the end. Whatever the correct word, I crossed that line tonight.

I was just going to do an easy shirt and pants for Kirstin's baby doll. I carefully measured everything I needed to measure on the doll. I made the patterns, and cut them out. I found portions of fabric onto which they fit, and cut the fabric. I decided to do the shirt first. I had just spent more than half an hour at calculations and drawing very carefully with the ruler to make sure this pattern would work. Then I looked at the sleeves. There was no way the doll's arms would fit through something that small! Ugh.

Well, that's okay. I can just do up another pattern and make the sleeves bigger. So, that's what I did, using the same careful measurements from before. I also checked to make sure the head would fit through the hole just to be certain. Everything was fine. I was excited, because I could just imagine how excited Kirstin would be to get these doll clothes! I pinned and hemmed and did the seams in this oh so simple shirt. Then I held it up to the doll. Wait a second! What happened? All my meticulous measurements! All my math to make sure I had everything right for the seam allowances! And I made something that MIGHT fit a Barbie doll. That doesn't include the time spent in fixing the bobbin, which decided to do a dance and get all tangled up, the countless times I had to thread the needle on the machine, --squinting and moving around to get it in just the right light--and the time spent cutting off all the end threads so the shirt didn't look like it sprouted hair.

After all that, and the shirt was certainly too small for her baby doll. Now dejected, I just stopped working on it. I didn't even attempt the pants. I was done out by doll clothes today.

Comfort Food Memories

2010-06-28T13:52:00.000-05:00

After a hectic week, in which we celebrated our anniversary, my birthday, and a wedding, I was feeling a bit cranky. I'm behind on sleep, Kirstin is still in the process of being "degrammatized", and Emily is going through a growth spurt as well, so only wants to be held and fed with an occasional diaper change. So today, in one of the times in which I could put Emily down to sleep and not have her wake up and cry until she was held again, I made poached eggs on toast for Kirstin and me.

Poached eggs are a comfort food from childhood. Any time I was sick and had to stay home from school, that evening my dad would make me poached eggs. I didn't have the knack of making them for a long time though. The ones I made were edible, but not just like my dad's. Then I learned the secret by watching my dad. You have to swirl the water as you put the eggs in, then the whites stay with the yolks better. Now I make them and they're like I remember. I wonder if I didn't learn the secret because any time I was in the kitchen when he made them, he had me start the toast right as he was getting them in. Nice little sneaky tactic, if that's so.

Now I make them for Kirstin and me for lunch sometimes on days when I'm feeling especially cranky. I get cheered up just in the making of them, because of the memories. I would also sometimes get poached eggs on an occasional weekend morning, usually before going ice-fishing. So of course, that brings back memories of wood smoke, decoys, older country music (not today's type, think Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash), the little "chink" sound the spear made as it was rested on the ice near the hole, and watching and waiting for a fish to come in the hole.

My dad taught me a lot about how to play the decoy, how to move the spear in quietly so the fish wouldn't be scared off, and how to manage a small wood stove. He would listen to my inane chatter and play games with me. Instead of I Spy, which wouldn't work in the dark house, we played 20 questions and Guess the Number. If I got too bored, I would go out and play in the snow on the lake, only to ask to be readmitted to the warmth 10 minutes later. I don't know if he saw fewer fish when I was around, but I was always a willing fishing companion for him.

So, if you feel out of sorts, make some of your own comfort foods. It helps!

My fair ladies

2010-06-16T09:57:00.001-05:00

I promised to get these pictures out a long time ago. These are from Mark and Abby's wedding, in which Kirstin was the flower girl and Matt was the best man. Of course Emily had to get all dressed up too! There are no pictures of Kirstin alone, because she would never stand still for the camera unless she was with someone. Too much going on to keep still!

So, those are my little girls...And Matt. He looks pretty good too. :P When asked what she thought of Abby's dress, Kirstin replied, "It's perfect! Abby's so beautiful!" I think Uncle Mark thought so too.

Revolving Door

2010-06-16T08:46:00.000-05:00

I took some pictures of Kirstin when I went in to wake her up yesterday morning. I found it a pleasure to do so, because she had me up quite a bit the night before. Here she is, sleeping peacefully. She looks like a little angel when she's asleep, doesn't she?

Aah. Now we have eyes. We're starting to wake up. By the way, these shots were punctuated with many grunts and squeals. She does not wake up gracefully all the time. Pretty soon she'll be out of bed.

We've made it out of bed, but not very far. Still tired, and the rocking chair looked like a comfy pit stop on the way out of the room.

Now we're awake, though not happy about it. In fact, she wouldn't walk down the stairs by herself, so I carried her like a sack of potatoes. Then I deposited her on the couch and let her wake up fully.

So why is she so tired? She didn't go to bed till late, and was throwing a tantrum before that. In fact, because she wouldn't go to bed and was screaming and thrashing so much, I took Emily out of her crib and brought her into our room for a little bit to make sure at least one child would stay asleep. Then Kirstin and I played "revolving door." She would get out of bed, run and open the door, and come out into the hallway and yell at us some more. I would pick her up and carry her like I would a laundry basket-on my hip-with her head and chest parallel to the floor. I put her back into her bed and she would repeat the process.

I tired of the game much sooner than she did, so I stopped it at the door opening. I held the door shut when she tried to open it. Somehow her volume switch must have gotten stuck, because she got much louder. After about a minute of trying to get out of her room with me holding the door and laughing at her, she started getting hoarse. A minute later, she quieted down to whimpers with a few "Mom!" yells thrown in. I let her open the door again. She said, "I want to say I'm sorry, mom!"

Battle won. And no, Emily never did wake up through all of that. And yes, I was laughing. Matt was laughing as well, as he was laying in bed watching Emily to make sure she didn't wake up. Sometimes with tantrums you have a choice of laughing or getting angry. I've found laughing works much better for me. I've had practice with tantruming children who were much older than Kirstin, so I knew if I just let her cry herself out life would be good. She was out of control, and I gave her the time find peace again. Afterward I gave her a hug and all was good. We talked about it in the morning after she was fully awake. Unfortunately, she was out of bed three more times during the night, but we made it through.

It would seem that our sticker program isn't working very well. Honestly it is, though. Aside from the revolving door night, she's been up much less. And she's finally even gotten a couple of stickers! I'm so proud of her!

Forward March!

2010-06-13T22:55:00.000-05:00

Today was Emily’s Christening, which is like a baptism, but no water was applied, as she was baptized in the hospital. Of course, I did the bulletins for today, as that’s part of my job. These were some of the toughest bulletins I ever had to do. First, we followed a different order of service than usual for the Christening. So I had to get that all typed into the bulletin and still not use up too much space. Second, when I typed that Emily is our daughter and that she was born on April 29 and baptized early in the morning on May 1, it made that entire time come back in one big punch to the gut.

I’ve evidently put most of it out of my mind so I can focus on going forward. Today it all pretty much came back. I did make it through the actual ceremony portion of the service without any tears. Emily was crying for food, and Kirstin told me in the middle of it, “I have to go potty!” So I had two excuses to leave the regular service for a little bit while I got myself under control. Then during the sermon, which was about intersections and how awkward they can be, Pastor mentioned Emily and how she had an intersection already in her life. He applied it to all of us, how we cross from death into life through baptism. I had tears in my eyes again from that, but then I cleared up and was good for the rest of the day.

I’m really hoping to use today as an ending point from all the NICU stuff and a good starting point for the rest of Emily’s life. It’s like the service today is the last thing we needed to do for her to give her the full “proper” beginning to life. I don’t necessarily like the word “proper” right there, but I don’t know which other word to use.

We had a good party out here at our house after church. We did burgers and brats on the grill, had all kinds of family and friends here, and a lot of good conversation, laughter, and fellowship. I think every one that was here really needed that time to relax while the kids played and babies were passed around (our friends Jill and Erik have two kids as well, Henry is 10 months older than Kirstin, and Owen is 9 months older than Emily). So now that we’ve gotten this far, and I’m feeling that I can’t live in the past with this anymore, here’s the full story:

Emily was born around 1:30 p.m. on Thursday, April 29. She was a perfect newborn. I did have to be stuck to the monitors while laboring with her (boo! I wanted to walk around!) because there was meconium present when my water broke, but everything was fine in the end with that. On Friday evening, Matt was holding her, and noticed she looked rather purple. He patted her and walked around with her and she went back to normal. We thought it was an artifact of the lighting in the room, because there were some strange lights in there and strange combinations. Later, I had just fed her and put her in her bassinet and she did it again. I immediately reached out to her and picked her up again, and she went back to normal color right after that. I asked the nurse about it, and she said that all babies do that and it was normal. That didn’t feel right, but she hadn’t seen it, so we went with it, somewhat grudgingly. We sent Emily to the nursery for the night.

About 1:00 a.m. I heard Emily cry. She was the loudest one in the nursery and my room was right across from there, so I could hear her easily. I started putting my bed up so I could be ready when she was brought to me for a feeding.

She never came.

I waited.

And waited some more.

Finally I heard the nursery door open and heard one of the nurses say, “Call Doctor Abler.”

My heart sank somewhere into the depths of the earth and I started thinking, “Oh, please no! Not my baby!” But I knew it was Emily. Dr. Abler is our family doctor.

Finally, a nurse came into my room and told me that they had moved Emily to the ICU so they could monitor her. She was getting her vitals checked just before her bath and she turned purple on the nurse. They brought me into the ICU to be with her, and I called home to Matt from there. Amazingly, he heard the phone. I had turned off all the ringers except the one in the basement. He had just woken up and was turning over to go back to sleep and actually heard the phone ring.

I told him that Emily was in the ICU and that I was waiting to hear more soon. I would let him know when I knew more. I hung up with him, and fed Emily. I put her back in the bassinet and she did her chameleon thing again. Her blood saturation levels were dropping. This time they called Dr. Abler to come into the hospital. I immediately called Matt again and told him he had to come in, because there was no way I could deal with all that on my own. Then I called the neighbor to go be with Kirstin, who was in her own bed for the first night since the night before Emily was born. Luckily at three in the morning, all I had to say to the neighbor was, “Emily is having problems, and Matt has to come in again, can you go be with Kirstin?” She didn’t even question it, said, “I’ll be there.” And hung up. It’s wonderful having people around you can count on like that.

After I made those calls, I had the nurse call Pastor. Matt and he arrived at roughly the same time. Once Emily was stable again, we put her on the bed and had her baptized. That was the only time through the entire ordeal that Matt actually cried. We both broke down when it came time for prayer. We couldn’t even pray with our Pastor and the nurse. Then I held Emily for a little bit, until the hospital staff had to make full preparations for the flight team. Then I had to hand her over again so that the flight team could get at her right away. She had to get an IV put into her leg, and the team made other preparations with her as well, including putting on little ear muffs to cancel out some of the noise.

After Emily left, we did too, so we could go home, pack (Matt) and repack(me) and we headed for the cities. Emily got to the hospital around 7:30 a.m. She had one more episode there at about 8:00 a.m. The doctor called me so I could give permission for her to get a CT scan and a lumbar puncture and to find out when we would arrive. We told her around 11:00 a.m. because we didn’t know exactly how traffic would be. We actually got to the hospital around 10:00 a.m. but didn’t make it to Emily’s room till about 10:30 a.m. Emily was hooked up to a monitor and had an IV going with sugar water and antibiotics. I was able to take a deep breath when I saw she didn’t have any tubes in her. She was sedated for the lumbar puncture, and was still out from that when we got there. We talked to the doctor soon after our arrival, and we were relieved to hear they had ruled out heart, lungs, and seizures. They did an ECG and were giving her antibiotics in case it was an infection.

And Emily never turned purple again. After 48 hours in the NICU with constant monitoring, she was allowed to come home. We had to take an infant CPR course, but that was about it. That’s just general protocol for a baby coming home from NICU. So instead of driving 15 minutes to get home, we had to drive 3 hours.

Now we laugh over portions of that weekend. The nurses from all over the NICU coming in and saying, “We want to see the big baby with the hair!” Our amazement at the nurse putting a new IV into Emily and only taking maybe two minutes total to find the vein, get the IV in, and wrap it-- in such a tiny hand. My amazement at the hotel the hospital put us up in for two nights (plush!). Matt meeting a high school classmate in the tunnel between Children’s and Abbot when we were coming back from breakfast (he probably knows someone in Timbuktu as well!).

And now it is time to move forward. Remember the lessons we had to learn from Emily being in the NICU, feel humble at the awesome power of God, and be thankful for having two incredibly healthy and beautiful daughters. It’s time to take all that and use it to become different in our lives. It’s time to plan again, but keep our lessons. Let life just be, and we’ll just go for the ride. It’s easier than trying to fight what we can’t change.

Stickers and Icecream or "How to get Kirstin to do what you want."

2010-06-10T22:09:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting here, right before my bedtime writing this. I'm enjoying this time tonight. I have a great sense of accomplishment from the day. Part of that could be that I started my day at 4:15 a.m. I got up because Kirstin wouldn't stay in her bed, and sleep attempts were futile anyway. Instead, I looked up some stuff online that I haven't been able to get to, folded some laundry, and read part of a book I've had sitting off to the side for entirely too long. As six o'clock edged nearer, Emily woke up again, so I fed her and started my day for real.

While I was in the shower I brainstormed ideas as to how to keep Kirstin in her bed. Most nights she's up at least twice, and last night she was up about 7 times, which meant in total I was up 10 times last night, because of course she and Emily couldn't make their needs correspond. After talking the matter over with Matt, we've decided to "go back to basics." We took down her bed tent, took away all but one stuffed animal, her glo-worm and her blanket, her radio doesn't work for her anymore (I know the magical fix though), and her bright nighlight is also kaput. And she's also down to only one book in bed. Then we introduced the chart. She gets a sticker tomorrow if she follows the chart. We cross things off as she does them. On there are things like getting her jammies on without trouble, going upstairs without complaining, staying in bed, staying quiet, and going to sleep. Then there's a graduated system for getting her stuff back. She needs three consecutive nights to get a couple of stuffed animals back. We're not letting her have as many as she wants anymore, as there was barely room for her in the bed. Then after she gets the stuffed animals, it's two more nights to one more book, etc. So far, this first night, it's working. We'll see how it goes later on. She's very excited about the idea of having stickers. At the end of all of it, if she stays in her bed for 10 consecutive nights she gets a picnic with Mom. Just the two of us. Probably out at the WROC gardens, though I may opt for somewhere else if they're not in their full summer glory yet. We'll see. I think I have some time to be deciding that.

Also in the random news, I brought the girls to the library on Tuesday. I needed some reading material and a deadline to get me back into my reading habit. The library provided both. While there, we got Kirstin signed up for the summer reading program. This is the first time either of us has been involved in something like that. She got a poster with areas to color for every 15 minutes we read. I think I could recite the Franklin and Clifford books she chose, but if it gets us reading more, I have no problems with it. The book time was rather lax around here before this, so it's a good incentive. If she gets all the areas colored in on the poster she gets a gift certificate to Dairy Queen for a small cone or something like that.

So yeah, we're bribing our older child to be good and to do things. Right now, anything that works is fine with me. And hey, at least stickers still make her enthusiastic about trying things! Sometimes it's the little things in life that motivate.