We ran out of milk with dinner tonight, so I needed to run to the grocery one more time today. I went alone after the kids were all settling down before bed in their pj's.
While there, I ran into another mom of many who was out shopping by herself and she chuckled "Isn't it therapeutic...just 5 minutes of silence in the grocery store?"
She had no idea, I thought to myself, after today's earlier experience.
I said something silly like "Yep, better than the bathroom...nobody's knocking to get in!"
It had me wondering in the car ride home where other moms find their "5 minutes." Exercise? Prayer? Grocery shopping? A good book? I was imagining the start of something new...like mall walking...only friends meet at the grocery to pick up the essentials, walk a few laps around the store, and catch up over a cup of hot coffee. Hmmm. I might be on to something. Practical, multitasking at it's best? perhaps not. It really is the silence I crave. It's when I can actually hear myself think...better yet, hear what God's thinking.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
heart still pounding
As I tucked her in tonight, kissed her soft forehead, and prayed our nightly "Angel of God" I shook again remembering our close call today. The "what-if's" can be paralyzing if we allow ourselves to dwell in them.
Praising God for his mercy and protection...that baby Anne is just fine.
Another prayer, recalled from childhood...
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray thee Lord, my soul to keep.
On waking with the morning light,
I ask thee Lord to guide me right.
Amen.
shopping with kids; and getting more than I bargained for.
I'll start by (guiltily) admitting that I don't typically take my small kids to the grocery with me if I can help it. It's one of the few "outs" that I get nowadays, and I look forward to the peaceful aisles of the store as I shop for the things we need. Here lately it's just been too cold, too snowy, too icey...whatever...to bundle everyone up anyways. Today the weather was warming (melting things nicely for the next snowy blast) so I thought it would be nice to get my errands done with the kids, and not have to go this evening. I love our local Dollar General for "short lists" cause they have a little of everything, including toys to entertain the kids while I shop.
Everyone was in good spirits, begging for EVERYTHING in sight, but not terribly disappointed when I said no to the majority of it. (cause I'm the meanest mom in the whole world, right?) Little Annie was sleeping soundly, buckled in her carseat in the top of the cart. We managed to get everything on our list (and then some) and were heading for the register, when my active helpers gave me the scare of a lifetime...
(and here's where I backtrack...about 5 years, to when Charlie was about 10 months old.)
I had him contentedly buckled in his pumpkin/carseat ready for an outing, but needed to run to the back of the yard to talk to John before we left. I set his seat on the little tykes picnic table for a moment while I walked back to the garden. His bigger sisters Grace and Mary knelt on the benches to peek in closer and "love" on their little brother. In an instant, his carseat was upside down in the grass, and he was screaming at the top of his lungs. A little scratch on the forehead, but he calmed quickly and seemed fine...mostly. The next day I took him in for a check to find he'd broken his little chubby leg. OUch. (That was one of my many nominations for Mother of the Year award.)
Before you're panicking (cause I did enough of that for all of us today), there are no broken bones here today...that I'm aware of. But boy did I get more than I bargained for at the Dollar General.
As we (myself, baby Annie dozing in her carseat, Charlie 5, Frank 4, Rose 4 and Lucy 3)headed for the checkout, I paused one last time to look at a "Clearance" sign that caught my eye. We were at the end of an aisle and Charlie (anxious to get his bubble gum to the checkout) took it upon himself to keep steering the cart onward. All the planets were aligning...as at that same moment, the other 3 jumped on the side of the cart, while the front wheels were caught on the display. The whole cart went toppling in the blink of an eye...I saw it in S L O W M O T I O N as little Anne's carseat toppled out onto the floor. turning her enire seat upside down, and nearly missing the edge of the metal display shelf. My heart was pounding in my chest...as I grabbed for her, but couldn't catch in time. Thank God the carrying handle was still up. Thank God she was still buckled in. Thank God she was okay. She was crying and startled, but not a bump or bruise in site. (and trust me, I've stripped her down a couple times already today just making sure.) She cried and instantly, Charlie was in tears too. Broke my heart, as I knelt down to show him Annie was okay, and remind him how quickly accidents happen. That mom doesn't give instructions/ask him to be careful, just for the fun of it. I was still shaking at the checkout as I held Annie (whose gummy grins and giggles helped to reassure us all that things were more than fine.)
As we drove away in the van, and I was reminding Charlie of his fall years ago, I remembered too that the same thing had happened to one of the other kids at Walmart years back. Can't remember anymore who was involved, but it was in the checkout line...baby buckled in a carseat, and wild kids climbing on the cart...pulled it over. Yep, it's coming back to me... Gosh, how many times could I have let this happen?!
Did you know they have a "Code" for things like that at Walmart. I remember being horrified when they announced a "Code something" over the loudspeaker system and paged a manager to the register. As if I didn't feel guilty enough...they were letting the whole store know about the screw-up mom on check-out 12. Ugggh.
There must be a lesson here for me somewhere...leave the kids at home? no, not possible. Perhaps just a simple reminder of the blessing of life/health, and how completely out of our hands those things are, even when we're trying our best. Perhaps a humbling reminder that as much as we think we have things under control, accidents happen. We can be grateful to God for his gift of guardian angels.
Thank you Lord for watching out for baby Anne today. Certainly the guardian angels here get no rest whatsoever!
Everyone was in good spirits, begging for EVERYTHING in sight, but not terribly disappointed when I said no to the majority of it. (cause I'm the meanest mom in the whole world, right?) Little Annie was sleeping soundly, buckled in her carseat in the top of the cart. We managed to get everything on our list (and then some) and were heading for the register, when my active helpers gave me the scare of a lifetime...
(and here's where I backtrack...about 5 years, to when Charlie was about 10 months old.)
I had him contentedly buckled in his pumpkin/carseat ready for an outing, but needed to run to the back of the yard to talk to John before we left. I set his seat on the little tykes picnic table for a moment while I walked back to the garden. His bigger sisters Grace and Mary knelt on the benches to peek in closer and "love" on their little brother. In an instant, his carseat was upside down in the grass, and he was screaming at the top of his lungs. A little scratch on the forehead, but he calmed quickly and seemed fine...mostly. The next day I took him in for a check to find he'd broken his little chubby leg. OUch. (That was one of my many nominations for Mother of the Year award.)
Before you're panicking (cause I did enough of that for all of us today), there are no broken bones here today...that I'm aware of. But boy did I get more than I bargained for at the Dollar General.
As we (myself, baby Annie dozing in her carseat, Charlie 5, Frank 4, Rose 4 and Lucy 3)headed for the checkout, I paused one last time to look at a "Clearance" sign that caught my eye. We were at the end of an aisle and Charlie (anxious to get his bubble gum to the checkout) took it upon himself to keep steering the cart onward. All the planets were aligning...as at that same moment, the other 3 jumped on the side of the cart, while the front wheels were caught on the display. The whole cart went toppling in the blink of an eye...I saw it in S L O W M O T I O N as little Anne's carseat toppled out onto the floor. turning her enire seat upside down, and nearly missing the edge of the metal display shelf. My heart was pounding in my chest...as I grabbed for her, but couldn't catch in time. Thank God the carrying handle was still up. Thank God she was still buckled in. Thank God she was okay. She was crying and startled, but not a bump or bruise in site. (and trust me, I've stripped her down a couple times already today just making sure.) She cried and instantly, Charlie was in tears too. Broke my heart, as I knelt down to show him Annie was okay, and remind him how quickly accidents happen. That mom doesn't give instructions/ask him to be careful, just for the fun of it. I was still shaking at the checkout as I held Annie (whose gummy grins and giggles helped to reassure us all that things were more than fine.)
As we drove away in the van, and I was reminding Charlie of his fall years ago, I remembered too that the same thing had happened to one of the other kids at Walmart years back. Can't remember anymore who was involved, but it was in the checkout line...baby buckled in a carseat, and wild kids climbing on the cart...pulled it over. Yep, it's coming back to me... Gosh, how many times could I have let this happen?!
Did you know they have a "Code" for things like that at Walmart. I remember being horrified when they announced a "Code something" over the loudspeaker system and paged a manager to the register. As if I didn't feel guilty enough...they were letting the whole store know about the screw-up mom on check-out 12. Ugggh.
There must be a lesson here for me somewhere...leave the kids at home? no, not possible. Perhaps just a simple reminder of the blessing of life/health, and how completely out of our hands those things are, even when we're trying our best. Perhaps a humbling reminder that as much as we think we have things under control, accidents happen. We can be grateful to God for his gift of guardian angels.
Thank you Lord for watching out for baby Anne today. Certainly the guardian angels here get no rest whatsoever!
our bedtime prayer:
Angel of God,
my guardian dear,
to whom God's love
commits me here.
Ever this day,
be at my side,
to light and guard,
to rule and guide.
(and protect us as we topple from high places.)
Amen.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Ahhh... R&R. Vacation. Good family, Good food, Good fun.Yep, we just returned from a 4 day weekend in the beautiful Smokey Mountains of Tennessee with my parents, siblings and all our children. It was wonderful! We all shared a "little cabin" in the hills and forged many great memories for all of us. It was wonderful to disconnect from the everyday hustle-bustle and reconnect with the ones I love.
I wanted to tell you all about it as I was packing/preparing last week, but my parents didn't think it was wise that I should announce to the whole blogosphere that we were all leaving town, homes unattended for the weekend...you know, cause that's mom...and she worries about stuff.
Anyways. We're back. And laundry continues, life goes on. And the snow day today was welcome. I'm so grateful that we got a bonus day to ease back into our routine.
Lovin my crazy family!
Mom and Dad,brother Jim & Judy, and daughters Jenna & Jamie, brother Joe & Kristen & daughter Madison, and my whole gang. We were also joined by Jenna's beau Jean Francois, and Judy's mom who aren't pictured.
my little rose
as I fumbled through little sleepers and onesies for Annie the other morning, I asked Rose (who was propped up next to Anne on the bed) for her opinion.
"Hmmm. What should little Annie wear today?"
"Ummm. Hot dogs?" Rose replied.
I couldn't help but giggle.
Bet you'll never guess what Rose responds everytime I ask her what sounds good for lunch.
"Hmmm. What should little Annie wear today?"
"Ummm. Hot dogs?" Rose replied.
I couldn't help but giggle.
Bet you'll never guess what Rose responds everytime I ask her what sounds good for lunch.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
finding joy amidst the laundry
Annie cries out "Help! Someone throw me a sock and pull me out! Mom nearly lost me in this heap of folded jeans and jammies."
I say...they're never too young to learn about Laundry.
Friday, February 11, 2011
happy birthday mary & john!
SEVEN?!?! are you sure? ( I really asked them this morning.)
there I go, blinking again.
Thank God for the gifts of you!
You remind me to stop and smell the roses,
and of how important it is to pay attention,
and that the best things in life are not always the easiest,
and should never be taken for granted.
I love you both VERY much.
How blessed am I that you should call me Mom.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
i blinked.
...and just like that, my tiny precious newborn grew into the big girl sitting here, smiling at me with those sparkly eyes and gummy grin.
I can't believe she's nearly 4 months old already!
I can't believe she's nearly 4 months old already!
Sweet Annie Therese
the real secret about that groundhog...revealed.
I'm beginning to understand why that groundhog decides to crawl back in his hole for 6 more weeks of winter. It has nothing to do with his shadow afterall.
Today, anxious to see the sun shining in, I peeled open all the blinds. All of them...even in the bedrooms which rarely see daylight. (We still have nappers in each of the kids' rooms, so I just leave blinds closed all day.)
Anyway, that beautiful sunlight pouring in with all it's might quickly revealed layers of dust...everywhere! Uggh. It was a tough decision to weigh out...Do I pull all the blinds and wait till spring, or do I buckle down and get to work?? I actually had to think about it for a minute, but the sun won out, and I dusted my way through the down stairs bedrooms knocking away dancing cobwebs from the corners, and layers of winter dust. It was good for the soul.
But, I'm seriously understanding why some days that groundhog decides that it's not worth the effort. She realizes too that sometimes, the dusting can wait. 6 more weeks of winter isn't an ETERNITY. And then some years the sun wins, and working through the dust is necessary to appreciate all it's beauty.
By the way? What did that ol' groundhog decide this year? I was too busy watching that catastrophic storm sweap across the country to notice.
Today, anxious to see the sun shining in, I peeled open all the blinds. All of them...even in the bedrooms which rarely see daylight. (We still have nappers in each of the kids' rooms, so I just leave blinds closed all day.)
Anyway, that beautiful sunlight pouring in with all it's might quickly revealed layers of dust...everywhere! Uggh. It was a tough decision to weigh out...Do I pull all the blinds and wait till spring, or do I buckle down and get to work?? I actually had to think about it for a minute, but the sun won out, and I dusted my way through the down stairs bedrooms knocking away dancing cobwebs from the corners, and layers of winter dust. It was good for the soul.
But, I'm seriously understanding why some days that groundhog decides that it's not worth the effort. She realizes too that sometimes, the dusting can wait. 6 more weeks of winter isn't an ETERNITY. And then some years the sun wins, and working through the dust is necessary to appreciate all it's beauty.
By the way? What did that ol' groundhog decide this year? I was too busy watching that catastrophic storm sweap across the country to notice.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
calamity over make-up days.
I received a call from Charlie's preschool teacher last evening. I could instantly feel a lump in my throat, and my heart raced for a moment, as I could only begin to imagine what he had done.
She called to inform me of an incident that occurred during "calendar time." (oh Lord, what happened...my mind was racing.) Then her voice cracked in laughter and she assured me it was nothing wrong.
She went on to say that they were discussing the recent bad weather, and the days missed from school. They talked about how the plan to have a long President's Day weekend, was going to be changed to allow for a "Make-up" day. As she talked on to the class about make-up day for that Friday, she noticed Charlie's hand go up. His voice was one of concern and hesitation, as he spoke very seriously..."But Jackie, I'm from Minster, and I'm a boy, and I don't wear make-up." She said she and the other teacher could barely hold back laughter over his misunderstanding of "Make-up" day, and thought it even funnier that he had to clarify where he was from, as if boys from other towns might wear make-up.
She couldn't contain her laughter on the phone either.
Neither of us could.
And I couldn't resist asking Charlie about it when we hung up. I told him his teacher had called about makeup day, and asked him what color eye shadow he'd like to wear that day...in a most defeated look, he shrugged "Blue I guess. That's a boy color."
Poor boy.
He couldn't figure out why his dad and I were nearly in tears with laughter.
Yes, I did finally reassure him there was no make-over/beauty school, only a day to take the place of the one missed...he's still not certain about it all.
She called to inform me of an incident that occurred during "calendar time." (oh Lord, what happened...my mind was racing.) Then her voice cracked in laughter and she assured me it was nothing wrong.
She went on to say that they were discussing the recent bad weather, and the days missed from school. They talked about how the plan to have a long President's Day weekend, was going to be changed to allow for a "Make-up" day. As she talked on to the class about make-up day for that Friday, she noticed Charlie's hand go up. His voice was one of concern and hesitation, as he spoke very seriously..."But Jackie, I'm from Minster, and I'm a boy, and I don't wear make-up." She said she and the other teacher could barely hold back laughter over his misunderstanding of "Make-up" day, and thought it even funnier that he had to clarify where he was from, as if boys from other towns might wear make-up.
She couldn't contain her laughter on the phone either.
Neither of us could.
And I couldn't resist asking Charlie about it when we hung up. I told him his teacher had called about makeup day, and asked him what color eye shadow he'd like to wear that day...in a most defeated look, he shrugged "Blue I guess. That's a boy color."
Poor boy.
He couldn't figure out why his dad and I were nearly in tears with laughter.
Yes, I did finally reassure him there was no make-over/beauty school, only a day to take the place of the one missed...he's still not certain about it all.
out of the mouths of babes
"It's Grandma's birthday today!" I tell the kids after breakfast.
"How old do you think she is?" (a totally loaded question for a group of preschoolers, I know.)
Charlie: "300!"
Frank: "I don't know? Ten?!"
Lucy: (holds up 10 fingers and giggles)
Rose from the other room, hollars: "70!" (ouch.)
I would never be so rude to say for sure, but Rose minus Lucy...you do the math.
I remember Dad helping us to order black tipped carnations when she turned 30. (I was 8 then.) She seemed so OLD back then, and now...she's more like the sister I never had. Funny how our own age changes our perspective. 30 was nothin!
Happy Birthday mom!
"How old do you think she is?" (a totally loaded question for a group of preschoolers, I know.)
Charlie: "300!"
Frank: "I don't know? Ten?!"
Lucy: (holds up 10 fingers and giggles)
Rose from the other room, hollars: "70!" (ouch.)
I would never be so rude to say for sure, but Rose minus Lucy...you do the math.
I remember Dad helping us to order black tipped carnations when she turned 30. (I was 8 then.) She seemed so OLD back then, and now...she's more like the sister I never had. Funny how our own age changes our perspective. 30 was nothin!
Happy Birthday mom!
You're another year younger.
Love you.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
rockin the sweatpants.
I know I mentioned my "rut" last week. I do appreciate all your helpful words of encouragement. I know many of you have been there/done that (maybe even bought the tee shirt.) It helps to know we're not alone in this crazy world of dinosaur chicken nuggets. (We wouldn't actually buy those if we didn't have kids, would we?!)
Anyway, I wanted to follow up (for those of you who were ready to have me committed for more serious "help")...I'm doing better each day. I started the next day, by convincing grandma to babysit for an hour so I could get my haircut. Wow! Is that therapeutic?! Turns out I haven't worn a bobby-pin in a whole week! (Why did I ever think that could be considered a hairdo? If you're currently wearing one, and you're under 70...and it's not holding your tightly coifed bun in place...take it out! It's not a style. It's a cry for help.) Unless of course your a teenager, in which case all style rules are out the window.
Even greater therapy than the hairdo though, was buying a new bra. OMG! The elastic in my very old worn-out nursing bras was probably past it's expiration 6 kids ago. I can't tell you the psychological value of having your "girls" up where they belong. I'm just saying. I was singing out loud when my new bra arrived in the mail. Who new nursing breasts could look "perky" again. Not I. It makes me want to sing..."Love lifts us up where we belong!" or something.
Oh, and I should definitely mention the whole "gratitude" thing. It really is the most basic form of prayer, don't ya think. If we can recognize all the good things God has provided, it makes us want for less, content with all we've received. My life is VERY good. Our God is VERY good. My morning offering reminds me to live in the moment, and make each one count...for love of Him. Being "present" for all the little moments the day has to offer, makes me happy...not a fleeting, worldly happy, but a profound joy in knowing I am a child of God...and I've got work to do...for me, for the kids, for hubby, for HIM. Life is good.
I Feel good.
(BTW~ I'm still in sweatpants. Got work to do there. But I'm rockin' em now. Even splashin on a little eye make-up some days...keeps the kids guessing where we might be going. I want them to know they're the most important "job" I've ever had, and I think our day is worth looking "pretty" for. Even if it's just a little pink strawberry lip gloss borrowed from my 4 year old.)
God Bless ya girls!
Anyway, I wanted to follow up (for those of you who were ready to have me committed for more serious "help")...I'm doing better each day. I started the next day, by convincing grandma to babysit for an hour so I could get my haircut. Wow! Is that therapeutic?! Turns out I haven't worn a bobby-pin in a whole week! (Why did I ever think that could be considered a hairdo? If you're currently wearing one, and you're under 70...and it's not holding your tightly coifed bun in place...take it out! It's not a style. It's a cry for help.) Unless of course your a teenager, in which case all style rules are out the window.
Even greater therapy than the hairdo though, was buying a new bra. OMG! The elastic in my very old worn-out nursing bras was probably past it's expiration 6 kids ago. I can't tell you the psychological value of having your "girls" up where they belong. I'm just saying. I was singing out loud when my new bra arrived in the mail. Who new nursing breasts could look "perky" again. Not I. It makes me want to sing..."Love lifts us up where we belong!" or something.
Oh, and I should definitely mention the whole "gratitude" thing. It really is the most basic form of prayer, don't ya think. If we can recognize all the good things God has provided, it makes us want for less, content with all we've received. My life is VERY good. Our God is VERY good. My morning offering reminds me to live in the moment, and make each one count...for love of Him. Being "present" for all the little moments the day has to offer, makes me happy...not a fleeting, worldly happy, but a profound joy in knowing I am a child of God...and I've got work to do...for me, for the kids, for hubby, for HIM. Life is good.
I Feel good.
(BTW~ I'm still in sweatpants. Got work to do there. But I'm rockin' em now. Even splashin on a little eye make-up some days...keeps the kids guessing where we might be going. I want them to know they're the most important "job" I've ever had, and I think our day is worth looking "pretty" for. Even if it's just a little pink strawberry lip gloss borrowed from my 4 year old.)
God Bless ya girls!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
who am i kidding?!
We're gettin' a little nutty around here...Emma fancying herself to be a mime...Frankie jumping on beds. Another school day cancelled already for tomorrow. Someone send help...or chocolate?! Come sip coffee with me, and tell me everyone's gonna be alright...
hollering from the hill tops...
WE (we, we...) LOVE (love, love...) SNOW DAYS!!! (days, days...)
We are enjoying day 2 of our "crippling, catastrophic, storm of the century" as described by the weather channel. Fortunately in our area, none of those descriptions fit. We did get plenty of sleet, a little snow, and wind to stir it all up a bit. Just enough to keep us at home and out of school. Oh, and are we enjoying our busy "lazy" days.
Yesterday the kids kept busy most of the morning playing school (of all things.) The older ones set up stations in various rooms, herding the younger kids from "classroom" to "classroom" for such activities as media (library time) with stories read aloud and other books laid out for kids to check out later; gym class with exercise balls and obstacle courses in the basement; social studies; language arts; music (with recorders and harmonicas for all); even art class in the kitchen where the kids created drawings of our town...all taped together now and hanging along one long wall in the basement for display. Very cool. We wrapped up school by lunch time and later enjoyed playing in the snow. Of course we had a new puzzle to put together...500 pieces, on a card table in the tv room where we'd all take our turns sitting and fitting a few pieces throughout the day. We had it completed by bedtime last night. Wooohooo!
Today we baked a cake to celebrate another day at home. And more snow play...this time with forts and neighbors helping out. Chocolate milk warming in a pan on the stove becconed the kids back in...with marshmallows of course.
Yep...we're loving life here these days. Enjoying the "lazy" days and grateful the weather wasn't all it was predicted to be. No power outages (although, my washer/dryer hasn't run in 24 hours...cause mom's takin' a snow day too!), no downed trees or power lines here. We're safe and snug...happy for the change of pace the weather brings.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
high-five.
Thanks for letting me vent a little girls. I appreciate all your positive comments and advice. I hear the first step in recovery is admitting the problem. I woke this morning feeling like a weight was lifted already. I dressed before breakfast (a rarity...and yes, still sweatpants), got my bathroom cleaned right after the kids were out the door, and even recruited the young ones to help with some vacuuming and dusting. (So it wasn't perfect...but it felt good to be on my game before 9am.) I shared a little mommy and babe time with Annie while the others played. And today, when my mom stopped by for coffee and chat, I asked her to watch the kids for an hour while I snuck out for a haircut and some groceries. We didn't really need much from the store, but I picked up a few of John's favorite things. He's been going straight from work to bus driver recertification classes this week and getting home late, and I wanted to do something nice for him too. The icy trees were gorgeous outside, by the way...something I probably hadn't noticed if I'd stayed holed-up all day.
It's true, when mama's happy...we're all happy. God is good.
It's true, when mama's happy...we're all happy. God is good.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Today an egg exploded in our microwave....blew the door clean open. There were egg bits EV-ERY-WHERE!!! God must have noticed the rut I was in, and decided to shake things up a bit here. Don't get me wrong, I'm still wearing sweatpants, and a bobby pin to hold back my much-in-need-of-a-trim hairdo. But we've got something egg-citing to talk about here this evening.
Did I mention I'm in a rut?! Physically, emotionally, spirtually...I'm a mess. I know it's the post-partum thing, combined with the fact that my entire closet of clothes (besides 2 pairs of sweatpants) are for a woman that weighed 35# less than the one posting here now. Uggh. Oh, and nursing little Anne is going wonderfully. It really is. That means, I go nowhere...except to the grocery store and doctor appointments for the kids...oh and church on Sunday. But I get very little out of Mass these days with baby wanting to nurse and 3 other little ones wanting to poke at her and fight over her the entire mass...while I'm trying to nurse. Ugg.
I'm not complaining though...it's all good...and when I get too far into the funk, a good shower and leg-shaving does me good. Oh, and I offer it up. Small sacrifices in the grand scheme of things. And I know soon that spring will come around. Stroller wheels will be turning, and the breeze blowing through my hopefully-trimmed-by-then-hairdo will feel like heaven on earth. For now though, I'm grateful for egg-splosions in the microwave to keep me on my toes; wonder at the endless possibilities of another crazy day in the life.
(yes, I know...11 healthy beautiful children...wonderful hubby...warm house...food on the table (well, except for the eggs)...get over it Jamie. I'm just sayin. I'm in a rut.)
Did I mention I'm in a rut?! Physically, emotionally, spirtually...I'm a mess. I know it's the post-partum thing, combined with the fact that my entire closet of clothes (besides 2 pairs of sweatpants) are for a woman that weighed 35# less than the one posting here now. Uggh. Oh, and nursing little Anne is going wonderfully. It really is. That means, I go nowhere...except to the grocery store and doctor appointments for the kids...oh and church on Sunday. But I get very little out of Mass these days with baby wanting to nurse and 3 other little ones wanting to poke at her and fight over her the entire mass...while I'm trying to nurse. Ugg.
I'm not complaining though...it's all good...and when I get too far into the funk, a good shower and leg-shaving does me good. Oh, and I offer it up. Small sacrifices in the grand scheme of things. And I know soon that spring will come around. Stroller wheels will be turning, and the breeze blowing through my hopefully-trimmed-by-then-hairdo will feel like heaven on earth. For now though, I'm grateful for egg-splosions in the microwave to keep me on my toes; wonder at the endless possibilities of another crazy day in the life.
(yes, I know...11 healthy beautiful children...wonderful hubby...warm house...food on the table (well, except for the eggs)...get over it Jamie. I'm just sayin. I'm in a rut.)
Thursday, January 13, 2011
100% recycled material.
The oldest girls and I had a nice chat the other night about my recent visit to St. Sebastian, my prayers for Emma's healing, and all the events surrounding my visit there. It was nice to be able to share with them how God wants to have a relationship with us, and how He is there for us always. He comforts us when we need it most, and showers us with blessings.
As we chatted, it reminded me of another story I'd written/shared long before this blog ever came to be, and involved my oldest daughter Alice. It was my first attempt at writing anything since college days. A little lengthy, but hope you enjoy it.
My Angel Story (written December, 2002)
I’ve read several books about angels lately. You know the kind...people giving personal accounts of their experience with the heavenly hosts. ( Easy reading to help pass time working the night shift.) Over and over the books tell me that all of us have probably experienced the presence of angels, however may have not allowed ourselves to notice or accept their true identity. I wondered about this. I racked my brain and still could not come up with any past experience in which I’d mistaken one of these Divine beings. Although, while pregnant with the twins I was sure that the Schwann’s man, delivering that chocolate chip cookie dough I so loved, was in fact a messenger from God! But no, I had no solid evidence. Anyhow, I made a mental note to try to be more open to the idea that I too, could one day be graced by their presence.
After reading the passages in these books, I began to think more and more about my angel and how he or she would appear to me. Would I wake up from a deep sleep to be greeted by some glowing, winged beauty? Maybe while I was driving along the road to work one night, I’d pass some stranger standing in the side ditch who would wink at me and I would just know this was a signal that my angel’s there watching over me. I started looking for an angel peering over my shoulder, or standing in the corner of the living room as all 3 kids were screaming “Elmo!”, “Pee!”, “Bah, Bah!” The cries come out in unison. No angel. Apparently they too have a sense of humor.
Anyhow, I’ve recently discovered that angels don’t always appear to us as something witnessed in a beautiful Michelangelo painting. Sometimes God sends us a messenger of hope in the form of someone we already know, who happens to be in the right place at the right time, comforting us with answers we desperately needed to hear, making it all to easy to believe that it must have just been coincidence. I don’t think this was. This is my angel story.
I think the fear that a mom experiences when her child is sick or hurting is one unlike any I’ve ever known before. It intertwines the same selfish fears we have for ourselves, with worry for the health and safety of this miracle you’ve given birth to. It can be difficult to maintain the strength it requires to keep the household running smoothly without letting everyone and everything become affected by what’s going on. I mean if mom “loses it,” how can anyone else be expected to keep it all together.
This was my situation when just weeks before Christmas 2001, we found that our nearly 2 year old daughter was spotting blood in her diapers. This was something she’d gone through earlier in the year, and something we thought had been resolved, when in August she had surgery to remove a cervical polyp. The final report then had been “benign.” Doctors had told us that this was a “fluke” thing that would not recur and gave us no reason to worry any further, until now. Suddenly holiday planning was put on the back burner, so we could go through all the same tests and more, to determine what was causing the bleeding this time.
The same surgery was planned to determine if there was in fact another polyp, and to remove it if necessary. Our doctor’s office staff made all the necessary arrangements, but unfortunately scheduled it for the wrong hospital. While her previous surgery had been done at Kettering, we thought from our heart, that she would receive much better care at Children’s, where they were more in tune to kids. (While at Kettering for the first surgery, the nurses seemed quite unprepared to deal with a baby. They admitted to us that they were expecting an 18 year old instead of an 18 month old. They had trouble getting her vital signs with the equipment available to them, and even fudged a few numbers to get there reports completed prior to surgery.) It wasn’t a problem to schedule it at Children’s, we were told, as our doctor did procedures at both facilities. On Wednesday before Alice’s surgery, I called the office to see how the rescheduling process was going. I was shocked and very disappointed when I was told by the nurse that, without reason, the surgery had to be done at Kettering. The doctor insisted it be done there. I hung up the phone.
Angry, confused, disappointed, baffled really, I didn’t know what to do next. Did I trust this doctor enough to keep our appointment at Kettering? We’d only dealt with him a few times, and had no personal referrals to him. He was, after all, a urologist and we weren’t even sure if this was the best place to be for this kind of problem. (Originally doctors suspected Alice’s bleeding was kidney-related, which led us to this man.) All the worst scenarios of what could go wrong kept spinning through my head. All the self-doubt and fear that we weren’t doing the best thing for our daughter just tore me apart. So while the kids were napping and John was at work, I finally lost it. I sobbed and prayed for what turned out to be an hour or better. All I could do was ask God to let me know we were doing the best we could. Should I insist on Children’s Hospital? Should I look for a new doctor who understood my concerns? Should we be seeing a different kind of specialist all together? Is there such a thing as a gynecologist for children? I kept thinking that sometimes we only get one chance to make the right decisions, and I didn’t want to look back on this years from now and say we should have done things differently. I didn’t want something to go terribly wrong and feel like we could have prevented it.
I can’t say I had any revelation as to the right answer. I never became completely comfortable with our decision to stick it out as scheduled at Kettering. Nevertheless, we kept our appointment and hoped it was the right thing to do. Looking back, I realize that when you give things up to God, he always comes through.
Alice went through her surgery as expected. (Kicking and screaming the whole way!) The nurses tell me that she was awake from the anesthesia before she even arrived in the recovery room. I’m not sure how they expected her to act when she woke up, but she was immediately hollering for her “Momma” and “Daddy” and would settle for no less. They allowed me in to hold her and try to calm her wild screams as she slowly became oriented. While rocking her, I was surprised to see a very familiar face coming our way. Dr. Lisa (Bohman) Egbert had heard Alice’s screaming and thought she might be able to help. She too seemed quite surprised to see us. We chatted a little about what brought us in, and she apologized that she had to meet with a family about one of her patients.
Back in the outpatient surgery department, and finally out of the recovery room, we were pleasantly surprised again to see Lisa, this time with our doctor, when he came to discuss the outcome of Alice’s procedure. Lisa had sought out Alice’s doctor, consulted with him about the case and his findings in her surgery, and confirmed his opinion about what he had found. After our doctor left, she stayed a few more minutes and gave even more insight into Alice’s condition, reassuring us that things would be ok. How lucky, I thought to have a second opinion in the case.
It wasn’t until our ride home that I realized it was much more than luck that brought Lisa to us. As we drove home that evening in the dark and rain, it hit me like a brick what a miracle had just taken place. This was the angel I’d been waiting for. Although Lisa might disagree, I have no doubt in my mind that she was there in that recovery room, at that exact time, by the sheer grace of God. She was there to answer every prayer that I’d asked of Him on Wednesday. How else could it be explained that we would run into a doctor friend, someone we trusted, an OB/GYN no less, at a hospital we weren’t supposed to be at. And that she would, unbeknownst to us, seek out our doctor, consult with him, and provide such comfort to us with her words. The diagnosis would have been the same whether she had been there or not, but it was the reassurance she provided that is what God knew I needed. Many would say it was good luck to see Lisa there. I might have thought that not so long ago too, but I know in my heart that God’s ways are not so mysterious, if we allow ourselves to be open to them. Some might call it coincidence, I don’t think so. I think this is my angel story. Thank you Lisa for following your heart to that baby’s cry.
As we chatted, it reminded me of another story I'd written/shared long before this blog ever came to be, and involved my oldest daughter Alice. It was my first attempt at writing anything since college days. A little lengthy, but hope you enjoy it.
My Angel Story (written December, 2002)
I’ve read several books about angels lately. You know the kind...people giving personal accounts of their experience with the heavenly hosts. ( Easy reading to help pass time working the night shift.) Over and over the books tell me that all of us have probably experienced the presence of angels, however may have not allowed ourselves to notice or accept their true identity. I wondered about this. I racked my brain and still could not come up with any past experience in which I’d mistaken one of these Divine beings. Although, while pregnant with the twins I was sure that the Schwann’s man, delivering that chocolate chip cookie dough I so loved, was in fact a messenger from God! But no, I had no solid evidence. Anyhow, I made a mental note to try to be more open to the idea that I too, could one day be graced by their presence.
After reading the passages in these books, I began to think more and more about my angel and how he or she would appear to me. Would I wake up from a deep sleep to be greeted by some glowing, winged beauty? Maybe while I was driving along the road to work one night, I’d pass some stranger standing in the side ditch who would wink at me and I would just know this was a signal that my angel’s there watching over me. I started looking for an angel peering over my shoulder, or standing in the corner of the living room as all 3 kids were screaming “Elmo!”, “Pee!”, “Bah, Bah!” The cries come out in unison. No angel. Apparently they too have a sense of humor.
Anyhow, I’ve recently discovered that angels don’t always appear to us as something witnessed in a beautiful Michelangelo painting. Sometimes God sends us a messenger of hope in the form of someone we already know, who happens to be in the right place at the right time, comforting us with answers we desperately needed to hear, making it all to easy to believe that it must have just been coincidence. I don’t think this was. This is my angel story.
I think the fear that a mom experiences when her child is sick or hurting is one unlike any I’ve ever known before. It intertwines the same selfish fears we have for ourselves, with worry for the health and safety of this miracle you’ve given birth to. It can be difficult to maintain the strength it requires to keep the household running smoothly without letting everyone and everything become affected by what’s going on. I mean if mom “loses it,” how can anyone else be expected to keep it all together.
This was my situation when just weeks before Christmas 2001, we found that our nearly 2 year old daughter was spotting blood in her diapers. This was something she’d gone through earlier in the year, and something we thought had been resolved, when in August she had surgery to remove a cervical polyp. The final report then had been “benign.” Doctors had told us that this was a “fluke” thing that would not recur and gave us no reason to worry any further, until now. Suddenly holiday planning was put on the back burner, so we could go through all the same tests and more, to determine what was causing the bleeding this time.
The same surgery was planned to determine if there was in fact another polyp, and to remove it if necessary. Our doctor’s office staff made all the necessary arrangements, but unfortunately scheduled it for the wrong hospital. While her previous surgery had been done at Kettering, we thought from our heart, that she would receive much better care at Children’s, where they were more in tune to kids. (While at Kettering for the first surgery, the nurses seemed quite unprepared to deal with a baby. They admitted to us that they were expecting an 18 year old instead of an 18 month old. They had trouble getting her vital signs with the equipment available to them, and even fudged a few numbers to get there reports completed prior to surgery.) It wasn’t a problem to schedule it at Children’s, we were told, as our doctor did procedures at both facilities. On Wednesday before Alice’s surgery, I called the office to see how the rescheduling process was going. I was shocked and very disappointed when I was told by the nurse that, without reason, the surgery had to be done at Kettering. The doctor insisted it be done there. I hung up the phone.
Angry, confused, disappointed, baffled really, I didn’t know what to do next. Did I trust this doctor enough to keep our appointment at Kettering? We’d only dealt with him a few times, and had no personal referrals to him. He was, after all, a urologist and we weren’t even sure if this was the best place to be for this kind of problem. (Originally doctors suspected Alice’s bleeding was kidney-related, which led us to this man.) All the worst scenarios of what could go wrong kept spinning through my head. All the self-doubt and fear that we weren’t doing the best thing for our daughter just tore me apart. So while the kids were napping and John was at work, I finally lost it. I sobbed and prayed for what turned out to be an hour or better. All I could do was ask God to let me know we were doing the best we could. Should I insist on Children’s Hospital? Should I look for a new doctor who understood my concerns? Should we be seeing a different kind of specialist all together? Is there such a thing as a gynecologist for children? I kept thinking that sometimes we only get one chance to make the right decisions, and I didn’t want to look back on this years from now and say we should have done things differently. I didn’t want something to go terribly wrong and feel like we could have prevented it.
I can’t say I had any revelation as to the right answer. I never became completely comfortable with our decision to stick it out as scheduled at Kettering. Nevertheless, we kept our appointment and hoped it was the right thing to do. Looking back, I realize that when you give things up to God, he always comes through.
Alice went through her surgery as expected. (Kicking and screaming the whole way!) The nurses tell me that she was awake from the anesthesia before she even arrived in the recovery room. I’m not sure how they expected her to act when she woke up, but she was immediately hollering for her “Momma” and “Daddy” and would settle for no less. They allowed me in to hold her and try to calm her wild screams as she slowly became oriented. While rocking her, I was surprised to see a very familiar face coming our way. Dr. Lisa (Bohman) Egbert had heard Alice’s screaming and thought she might be able to help. She too seemed quite surprised to see us. We chatted a little about what brought us in, and she apologized that she had to meet with a family about one of her patients.
Back in the outpatient surgery department, and finally out of the recovery room, we were pleasantly surprised again to see Lisa, this time with our doctor, when he came to discuss the outcome of Alice’s procedure. Lisa had sought out Alice’s doctor, consulted with him about the case and his findings in her surgery, and confirmed his opinion about what he had found. After our doctor left, she stayed a few more minutes and gave even more insight into Alice’s condition, reassuring us that things would be ok. How lucky, I thought to have a second opinion in the case.
It wasn’t until our ride home that I realized it was much more than luck that brought Lisa to us. As we drove home that evening in the dark and rain, it hit me like a brick what a miracle had just taken place. This was the angel I’d been waiting for. Although Lisa might disagree, I have no doubt in my mind that she was there in that recovery room, at that exact time, by the sheer grace of God. She was there to answer every prayer that I’d asked of Him on Wednesday. How else could it be explained that we would run into a doctor friend, someone we trusted, an OB/GYN no less, at a hospital we weren’t supposed to be at. And that she would, unbeknownst to us, seek out our doctor, consult with him, and provide such comfort to us with her words. The diagnosis would have been the same whether she had been there or not, but it was the reassurance she provided that is what God knew I needed. Many would say it was good luck to see Lisa there. I might have thought that not so long ago too, but I know in my heart that God’s ways are not so mysterious, if we allow ourselves to be open to them. Some might call it coincidence, I don’t think so. I think this is my angel story. Thank you Lisa for following your heart to that baby’s cry.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
how do you spell success?
(4th place Emma, 3rd place Alice, Champion and 2nd place spellers)My two oldest girls did their momma proud tonight when they competed in the Minster Middle School spelling bee...and fared quite well. Competing against the top spellers in 4th through 8th grade, they finished 2nd and 3rd runners up. Alice will be moving on the the County Bee in Wapak later this month with the other two winners, while Emma stands ready as an alternate. Alice joked she'll plan to sleep with one eye open for the next couple weeks ;)
What an exciting evening to see not only one but two sisters wind up on top!
Way to go Alice and Emma!!!
imagine that
Yesterday I watched two little boys (Charlie and Frank) entertain themselves for nearly an hour with nothing more than a broken plastic slinky and their imaginations. I was in awe of how they went from one story/character/circumstance to another, and when it broke into more pieces, they had more ways to use it. I can't wait to see what they come up with for entertainment today...the world is at their fingertips.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
humbled by her invitation...
Monday was shaping up to be "one of those days." There was a scheduled trip to Celina in the morning for Anne's immunizations, and an unanticipated appointment in Dayton mid-afternoon for Emma's orthopaedic consult. Throw in lunch for the kids at home, a baby who still wants to nurse every 2 hours, a stop to gas up the van, and a few e-mails/phone calls to keep John and grandparents in the loop, and my head was starting to spin.
As I was returning home from Celina with my sweet Anne sleeping soundly in her carseat, I was reminded of a recent dream I'd had about a sweet parish in sleepy St. Sebastian, OH. A tiny church in the middle of farm country. Population... a dozen or so? I had thought about visiting that church several times since, but really never had the time or energy to swing by...mostly the time. Today for some reason, I couldn't resist the urge. I argued in my mind that today was NOT a good day...too much to do, too little time. And yet, for some reason before I could resist, my van was pulling into the church parking lot. I gave myself 10 minutes. Just 10 minutes wouldn't throw me too far off schedule. It was as if I could feel the Blessed Mother calling me in.
As I entered the quiet church (one I've never visited before, by the way...except in a dream...weird, I know) I was surprised to find the Monstrance on the alter, Christ present for Adoration. In our area, with clustering of parishes, and so many small beautiful churches often closed for lack of priests...I couldn't believe it. There was one other woman there, praying quietly and she welcomed me with a smile as Anne and I entered. I sat quietly in prayer for those 10 minutes, humbled that Mother Mary should think to invite me in to spend time with her son. Who am I?
And yet in those 1o minutes with thoughts of the recent gospel readings still fresh in my mind, I realized that we are all invited in, aren't we? Through the waters of Baptism we are each personally invited to a closer relationship with Him. Yet, somehow in our crazy busy lives, we tend to put that relationship on the back burner. At least I find that I do. I had called mom to tell her about Emma's appt, texted my Dad, e-mailed John at work, called school to let them know I'd be taking her out early. Did I ever stop to ask Jesus to be with her? I'm not so certain I did, aside from prayer before mass on Sunday. I feel so blessed, and grateful for the gift of our Mother in heaven, who took a moment to pull me aside, invite me in, to help me remember the relationships that are most important...the One who wants to share in our daily burdens...her Son. I am most grateful for the time, even just 10 minutes of time spent solely with Him. It was beautiful and encouraging and uplifting. A blessing. I bet you got your invitation too...have you RSVP'd?
As I was returning home from Celina with my sweet Anne sleeping soundly in her carseat, I was reminded of a recent dream I'd had about a sweet parish in sleepy St. Sebastian, OH. A tiny church in the middle of farm country. Population... a dozen or so? I had thought about visiting that church several times since, but really never had the time or energy to swing by...mostly the time. Today for some reason, I couldn't resist the urge. I argued in my mind that today was NOT a good day...too much to do, too little time. And yet, for some reason before I could resist, my van was pulling into the church parking lot. I gave myself 10 minutes. Just 10 minutes wouldn't throw me too far off schedule. It was as if I could feel the Blessed Mother calling me in.
As I entered the quiet church (one I've never visited before, by the way...except in a dream...weird, I know) I was surprised to find the Monstrance on the alter, Christ present for Adoration. In our area, with clustering of parishes, and so many small beautiful churches often closed for lack of priests...I couldn't believe it. There was one other woman there, praying quietly and she welcomed me with a smile as Anne and I entered. I sat quietly in prayer for those 10 minutes, humbled that Mother Mary should think to invite me in to spend time with her son. Who am I?
And yet in those 1o minutes with thoughts of the recent gospel readings still fresh in my mind, I realized that we are all invited in, aren't we? Through the waters of Baptism we are each personally invited to a closer relationship with Him. Yet, somehow in our crazy busy lives, we tend to put that relationship on the back burner. At least I find that I do. I had called mom to tell her about Emma's appt, texted my Dad, e-mailed John at work, called school to let them know I'd be taking her out early. Did I ever stop to ask Jesus to be with her? I'm not so certain I did, aside from prayer before mass on Sunday. I feel so blessed, and grateful for the gift of our Mother in heaven, who took a moment to pull me aside, invite me in, to help me remember the relationships that are most important...the One who wants to share in our daily burdens...her Son. I am most grateful for the time, even just 10 minutes of time spent solely with Him. It was beautiful and encouraging and uplifting. A blessing. I bet you got your invitation too...have you RSVP'd?
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