Monday, December 31, 2007
Well, I was going to pop on at 8 o'clock and say how peaceful it was around here. The middle blondies were both so miserable, they practically fell into bed (with not a little guilt on my part). The youngest blondie had been asleep for over an hour.
How things change.
Does anyone have any suggestions what one should do about a child who refuses to sleep without a nipple in his mouth? If I would go up there right now and let him "eat," he would go right to sleep.
Until I put him down.
At which point he would begin to scream again.
I am tired of being a chew toy and a pacifier and I am extraordinarily tired of being the only solution to this child's woes.
So there I was debating whether I should watch the chick flick I rented for myself or just go to bed and try to forget this new years eve (and hopefully recover a bit from this dang respiratory infection), but my question has been answered.
Because I just don't sleep well while being a stand in paci.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
But, even if you don't like the guy, you've got to agree with me that the following borders on the ridiculous. Since when is it illegal to "appeal to the religious vote?" Are we religious people not allowed to vote? Is Barak Obama not appealing to the religious vote? Pretty sure I've read about his religious beliefs in Time or Newsweek or something--back when my dad thought he'd run for president and I'd never heard of him.
So all I'm saying is this: if it offends people that Huck professes Jesus Christ... Deal. If it offends enough people, he won't be president. If more people want to vote for him because he does...deal. THAT'S WHY WE LIVE IN AMERICA. The power of the vote. Call it a democracy, call it a republic, but remember that if the majority (of the electorate) votes the guy in, HE'S PRESIDENT, whether the minority likes it or not. Frankly Hillary Clinton offends me. But if she makes president...I'll have to deal. I'll whine, but I'll deal. It comes with the privilege of living here.
Anyway, you should watch the videos. They are interesting. Especially Merideth getting all het up about ole Mike "appealing" to the "religious" vote. (At least someone I can get behind is.) Oh, and the "cross" in the background? If they didn't do it on purpose (as they claim) God must be chuckling in Heaven. It is PER-FECT.
The latest effort to spread the idea that religion has no place in the public square comes as a response to a TV spot produced by presidential candidate Mike Huckabee.
I urge you to watch the two video clips I have placed in this e-mail. First, is the ad by former Governor Huckabee wishing people a Merry Christmas. Click here to watch the 30-second ad.
Next, is a clip from the Today Show (Dec. 18), hosted by Meredith Vieira, on which Governor Huckabee was a guest. Vieira opens the interview talking about how some say the ad is sending an overt religious appeal to voters.
Some have become so openly hostile to the Christian faith that they are upset when a candidate simply wishes viewers Merry Christmas and mentions that --after all-- Christmas is the day Christians celebrate the birth of Christ.
The governor is accused of putting a cross in the background of his ad. The 'cross' they find offensive is nothing more than a bookcase. The critics say also the three lights stand for the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit! What is disappointing is that the media grabs such a concoction and makes big news out of this ad.
To me, these accusations are utterly silly, and biased. Watch the clip from the Today Show. There are those who feel that nothing religious, especially wishing people Merry Christmas, should be made by anyone seeking public office. That is the attitude of those who want to drive religion from the public square.
If you have smallish children you know that tag isn't about tag so much as it is about base. They dash from one base to another and hope against hope they don't get tagged by IT.
My kids have a new system of base. Base is a color. Hopefully not chartreuse. They did this so that there is a base in every room if they look hard enough.
Last week, base was brown.
They dashed from the couch, to the book cases, to the table while Eldest, who was IT, tried to tag them. (Yet, for some reason, they all missed the fact that all of my flooring is brown. I didn't point it out.)
All of a sudden I hear hysterical giggling. I walked around the corner to discover Eldest, standing with his arms splayed, unable to tag Princess and Frodo, who had each placed a hand upon his arms.
Not only was he IT, he was base.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Beth lives among the Old Order Mennonites, and though she shares their Christian faith, she doesn’t share their lifestyle. While, yes, she feels that God brought her to
Seems he surrendered his own battle a couple days ago.
But I contend that:
1. Charming was playing with the Q-tips and leaving them on the floor would (hopefully) prevent him from dumping out 25 more later in the day/week.
2. When the baby makes a mess, it is ANYONE's job to pick up after him, not just the mom's.
Which, therefore, negates the battle on principle alone. On the other hand, if one leaves his wife for a few days to go to San Francisco, one should, on principle, unpack his own bag. Especially if he is going to want those clothes clean eventually. And I'm not talking with a 24 hour notice, because, as most wives know, we rarely get 24 hours notice. We usually get about 3.2 minutes notice that they need something to be wearable. And not just something, but the linen, tan, cuffed pants.
Now if said husband were to take the wife along on his business trips to exotic locations where she just happens to have an old roommate living...I'm just saying, the battle would have been moot.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Gives a whole new meaning to "take, eat, this is my body (broken for you)."
And since Hubs has been home from San Francisco for nigh on two weeks and he has yet to make a move to unpack his suitcase, and because I'm tired of tripping over it and moving it back and forth across the room to get it out of my way, and since he doesn't seem to miss anything that is stashed inside it anyway...
...I'm surrendering the battle and unpacking the thing.
I have four or five shirts, all in the same color family, that I wear until they are gone, then fret that I have "nothing" to wear until they are clean again.
Dusty Red. Or maybe Dusty Maroon. Of the Rose family. Everything from a kind of baby pink (my least favorite) to full on red (though I don't have much full on red).
Is it because I've decided the pinks go with everything? I don't know.
When I turned 30 I "discovered my inner pink." Until then I knew I was a girl, I liked men (well, my man), but wasn't much of a girlie girl. I didn't "get" shoes. I didn't "get" chocolate. Never had a pedicure (still haven't, but intend to "someday"). Didn't have "girlfriends" (working on that, but it is hard to establish girlfriends when you've never been a very good one because you used to never trust women). Wore mostly Hubs clothes and tennis shoes. So....
I awakened there at the end of my 20s realizing that I kinda liked shoes (make that LOVE in the love-inanimate-objects-kinda-way) and skirts and pretty jewelry and girlfriends and PINK.
Rather, dusty rose.
I find it humorous that I wore blue for 29.5 years and now I wear the same five pink shirts over and over again.
(Of course, I'm wearing blue stripes and running shoes today, Go Figure.)
Saturday, December 15, 2007
I went to bed almost proud. How messed up is that?
I awakened angry. Who needs toast at 6am? And is it necessary to bang the pans so loudly? And then I dreamed that I went into the kitchen to yell at the boys and made both Eldest and Dimples cry.
I was glad that it was a dream. No matter how annoyed I was at the dark toast making.
At least they made their own toast.
Friday, December 14, 2007
I'm wondering if the ice storm hit one of those supernatural realms.
I knew when we adopted Eldest we would get a lot of questions, so they don't usually offend me. I'd rather answer the questions than allow people to continue on in their incorrect assumptions...just not in front of him. However, this is an interesting article (make sure you follow the link for the long version) worthy of a read.
MY ADOPTED CHILD CAN HEAR YOU
Adoptive parents speak out: Before curiosity gets the best of you - take a breath and think about what you're saying.
(Los Angeles – December 14, 2007) - International adoption has gotten a lot of attention recently with Brad and Angelina regularly expanding their family, and Madonna getting the government go-ahead this week to adopt her son David from Malawi. An article in this week's Newsweek sheds light on the difficulties, sadness, and potential devastation behind international adoption. But the challenges outlined in the article aren't the norm for most adoptive parents. Sometimes, the biggest obstacle is not the adoption itself, but the comments and questions tossed out at parents while they're in the grocery store, at the dry cleaner, or in line at Starbucks. As it takes a village to raise a child, it's the (perhaps unwitting) village idiot who feels compelled to ask stupid questions, not even considering the damage their words can do to an innocent child.
One of our own Mom•Logic Moms is in the process of adopting a baby girl and has already endured the "You're so nice to adopt a kid who's unwanted" and "That's much easier than giving birth" comments. She's now preparing herself for some of the outrageous questions that fellow adoptive parents have been asked by "curious" onlookers. Click on link below to view the entire story.
Web link: http://www.momlogic.com/2007/12/dont_be_ignorant_in_progress.php
MomLogic.com is an online community "for thinking moms who don't have time to think." In addition to posting topical, entertaining and relevant stories, the site features breaking news and how it affects the lives of mothers and their families in an ever-changing world. MomLogic.com is produced by Telepictures Productions, an industry-leading producer of syndicated programming and winner of 49 Daytime Emmy Awards. Sabrina Weill (formerly of “Seventeen”) is editor-in-chief.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
The crashing limbs of the old and dying trees aren't.
The ice encrusted trees three days later with the sun shining through creating sparkles are gorgeous.
But driving under them is treacherous.
Thankfully the four foot shard of ice crashed down just in front of us.
I am convinced that the melting ice (aka raining ice chunks) is more dangerous to drive in than the original ice storm.
I have succeeded in finding a Christmas gift for Princess. Actually, three.
Never underestimate the power of Toys r US. The empty aisle. Yes, they have one. I don't know why no one else seemed to think these were perfect for their children, but they were just what I was looking for.
Thanks to Kelli we have a fashion plate designer, thanks to Liz and Andrea a jewelry making kit, and thanks to Moi, a bedazzler. Because she likes her bedazzles. I didn't go with the doll house because I would like to do the wooden kit that can become an heirloom and, well, that doesn't give us something to play with on Christmas day (I wouldn't get it together by then and couldn't see buying the house and all the furnishings on this years budget).
So, while the shopping wasn't all that great (too many people have been iced in for too long and were rushing the stores today) I was positively bubbling when I got home. I got GOOD STUFF and didn't spend a fortune.
I came home and cleaned house, did some laundry, washed the dishes, vacuumed, played with Frodo and listened to some endless stories without losing it. I am convinced that the burden of coming up with a good Christmas present for my kids was totally overwhelming me. I feel so light and free and CERTAIN that Christmas morning for us (which will be December 22) will be good. It's a great feeling.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
How I have been so fortunate to have four children and not experience it until now, I do not know. It probably says something as to the width of my shoulders and how much God thinks I can handle.
So help me, I'm sure he was right.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Oddly enough my basement flooded.
I ask you, how can the water freeze on individual blades of grass and yet seep into the basement?
No, I do NOT want a scientific answer. Basement seepage is only allowed in the Spring and then only in other people's basements.
Charming was up four times in the night.
I dreamed that Hubs and I had this massive fight back in our hometown in front of a lot of people.
And we were stuck in the house together all day. Do you know how hard it is to forgive that man for things he does in my dreams? He hates it when I snarl at him in the morning, "You'll never believe what you said to me last night!"
But the reason I'm really not rested is because I have no Christmas present for Princess. Zip, zilch, nada. Every idea I come up with, Hubs nixes or someone else already got. I am fresh out. I lay awake last night obsessing about it. I've searched web sites for hours. I've stood at stores and stared at shelves. I'm at a total loss.
Six year old female. Should be easy right? Not. She is one unique (and awesome) chick and she deserves one unique (and awesome) gift. Just one. That's all I'm really after. She will get her socks and toothbrush and chapstick and candy in her stocking. Her robe. Her Chuck-e-cheese gift card (that when put together with her brothers' will just cover our trip over during the holiday week). But not something she would really love and play with on "Christmas" day. (Which for us is December 22 or so.)
Ideas? And don't give me the obvious stuff. She doesn't need clothes. She doesn't need another Barbie. She doesn't want more Polly pockets. I'm talking something for the smart, creative, imaginative type who is still all girl.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Sunday, December 09, 2007
That's how I feel about it today.
It being all of it, everything. I'm done with it. I'm temped to drop out of life, home school and tell the world to BACK OFF.
It goes a little something like this:
See, we have school. But on top of school, we have to read aloud with the kids at home. But it isn't enough for us to read, the kids now have to read to us. (there are good reasons here, they need to learn fluency in reading, I get that) And if they read their goal, they get a pizza. If they read beyond their goal, they get an additional prize from the prize box (that I stock so I don't see the big deal). But if they go above their goal, their goal is increased. Both kids went above their goals, I have to listen to an extra couple hundred minuted of "C-A-T, C-AT, cat, R-A-N, R-AN, ran..." Kill me now. Apparently the extra face to face time is good for the kids.
They come home from church with worksheets for the family. If the family does the work sheets, the kids get a prize the next Sunday. Growing in faith together.
They come home from basketball with homework. Not how to dribble homework, but memory verses (yes, it is Christian basketball). If they memorize their verses they get a star to put on their uniforms. Spending time together without the competitive atmosphere.
And let us not lessen the importance of the family meal which, if we don't want our daughter to end up pregnant out of wedlock and our boys to not be in prison, we must have everyday. And the family devotions and prayer time together because Joe Schmo said we should do it whether we like it or not because it teaches our children discipline in faith matters (I'm all for writing it on our doorposts and walls and talking about it when we sit down and when we stand up, I'm not a fan of getting out the ole King James and torturing them through the phonebook that is Numbers). And making sure Dad reads out loud to them to demonstrate that men read, too.
When is enough enough? Why does the world get to dictate what my family does together? We are do busy DOING that we don't have a chance to BE. What if what we like to do together is read chapter books (the parents who are fluent readers)? Or go bowling? Or build something out of tree limbs? Or go to the park. Or play hide and seek?
We have no time to do such things because people are imposing family togetherness upon us in contrived ways and rewarding the kids for us falling into line. No hours left in the day because we are do busy DOING. And if we don't DO the kids suffer because they are embarrassed that they didn't do and sad that they didn't get. And I know that some of that is life (I've read Coloring Outside the Lines), but I want to help them out on the things they really care about. and they are young enough that they really care about achieving whatever goal was set forth.
But Mama is tired. Tired of shoving all the requirements into the fraction of the day I get with my kids and tired of feeling like a drill sergeant. I'm beginning to be one of THOSE parents who lets it go and my kids aren't getting the pizzas and stars and power bucks because sometimes kids just need to go outside and play in the snow.
Which brings me to a thought I had this evening. Washing machines. Good, or bad?
See, I ran around the house this evening filling and starting all of my machines. Boy isn't it great that we have these machines to do our work for us? Well, yeah, unless you think about the fact that when we handwashed, we didn't have so many dishes or clothes and neither did anyone else and it was perfectly normal to wear the same thing all the time. And we wouldn't have closets full of clothes because who would want to wash so many? So we wouldn't spend so much on clothes. So we wouldn't have to work so many hours a week to pay for so many clothes.
Yes, the grinch has invaded my home. I do apparently think I need to go back in time. Except I'm pretty sure my nose would prefer to stay right here. Not a fan of the BO.
Friday, December 07, 2007
A (slightly used) copy of The Other Daughter: Theresa
When the Morning Comes: Pat
I will try to email you today, but if you've blocked yourself from spammers, you'll need to email me and let me know your address. My email is in my profile.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
The long story goes something like this:
I was just marveling last night about how ungrateful I am. God has given me this wonderful gift of the ability to bear and bring forth extraordinarily healthy babies. And what I am really drawn to do is adopt.
It is like having straight hair in a world of curly haired people who want your straight hair, but you just wish you had a little body in yours.
I would know about that, too.
I used to think that all I wanted out of life was to be able to be pregnant, and stay pregnant, just once. And after I adopted Eldest, I was thoroughly convinced that pregnancy wasn't necessary to unconditionally adore a small person.
Then God healed me.
I was watching a show I shouldn't have been watching last night when one of the characters said something like, "She was adopted and she deserves to have someone in her life that looks just like her." This is in reference to why a woman should be able to have a biological baby even if the husband can't produce the necessary requirement for her to do so.
I've never been all that caught up in my genetics. Maybe it is because my children don't look like me; they look like Hubs. But I get frustrated nearly every time that someone exclaims, "He looks just like you! (Or Just like his daddy!)" I know it is meant to be a complement, but can they not see my other son, right there, that also wants to be like Daddy? And aside from that, how many more of those people do we need in the world? Have another one, just like the other one?
If that is what people want to do, more power to them, but my idea of a family being carbon copies went out the window many a year ago. It frustrates me to no end that most of us look alike. Even though I think ALL my children are incredibly wonderful.
How selfish is that?
(I've been through infertility and I know someone is hacked off at me right now. I would apologize except perspectives change with life circumstances.)
So last night I was on this website. I watched their videos and cried and cried. I want so badly to provide a home for some of those children.
Here's my dilemma. God is the author and creator of life. He doesn't create life without a purpose. So, is it wrong to prevent pregnancy in order to care for the children already in this world? Because essentially I'm telling God that I know better. Or is this one of those situations like skin diseases of the Old Testament that God put me in the world at such a time as this so that I could prevent? I am so confused.
I don't want to open a whole can or worms with a controversial issue. This is just where my mind is right now and I'm trying to sort it out. Biblical directive to "Be fruitful and multiply" vs. "Pure and undefiled religion is this: to care for the orphan..."
Because I'm telling you, with today's laws and my ability to handle stress, both ain't gonna simultaneously happen.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
I didn't want to try the McDonald's Iced Vanilla Coffee, but when I got to southwest Kansas where there was no Starbucks, I was rather glad I had tried it and that it was available. And only a buck fifty.
And when my morning coffee date with a friend was canceled due to a vomiting Princess, and I pulled into Sonic for a Route 44 Sprite for her highness, and I noticed that Sonic had some fru-fru version of coffee on their menu now, I splurged. It was more like a Jamocha Shake from Arby's (a pleasure all of its own). But at $2.50, still half of a Mocha Frap. And they brought it to my van full of sick kid.
As more and more cheap versions of my addiction jump into the fray, I just wanted to take a moment and rejoice.
Is it a venti Mocha Frappuccino? No. But I'm also guessing these don't have 750 calories, either. And even if they do, they are a fraction of the cost.
I'm not saying Ciao to Starbucks, but McDonald's drive through is starting to look a bit better than it did back when they only carried Coke.
Of course, Great Value French roast with a smidge (okay, a full, overflowing tablespoon) of Coffeemate Creme Brulee creamer is nothing to sneeze at. (At a mere $0.15 a cup, I can have three.)
Monday, December 03, 2007
Just because the pants are "long enough" isn't reason to keep them, if you need a wide angle lens to capture the front and hind view. (I'm sure it is the print and style of the trousers, and not the 3-4 pounds lost that look like 15 gained).
Nor do we need to keep the basketball shoes purchased for Princess without her there that she thinks she will outgrow "soon" (which I translate into "I like the fact that I got new shoes, Mom, and I'll wear them, but they are a tad tight, and I'll get new ones when they are too tight to cram my pigs into, right") but is happy to wear. (And happier still that I picked up a second pair in a larger size that look more boyish, but are light, easy to run in and far more comfortable on the pigs.)
And since I was in the store anyway, and Frodo wanted to look at shoes for some reason, I stopped by the clearance racks in a size 8.5.
Oh. My. Stars.
How do you say no?
I would linky up, but they don't even have them on their web site. But suffice it to say, the money I gained on the returns, the store got right back.
But I would rather have my navy blue pumps (that sounds so boring, trust me, they are awesome), my black peek toe sandals, my ivory wedges, and my Cinderella shoes, than those wide angle trousers any day.
Did I just post on my blog that I spent $50 on shoes?
So why don't my jeans fit?
Sunday, December 02, 2007
The library had Tae-Bo Gold. For old people. It says so on the cover.
Since I know that Tae-Bo kicks my butt, I thought the old people version might be a bit better for me. I am 32 after all.
I did less than 30 minutes of the video. Probably ten of what I did was stretching and warm up. Charming woke up or I would have probably given it an eager go at finishing because, you know, the 85 year old woman on there was still going.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
I don't know what flomax does, but I'd better not take it.
I have heard very little of this game, as I don't care, but I heard that. It reverberated through the room.
Of course Jimmy, being a boy, and being a genius, continues his dangerous ways.
I can't remember the scene, but Jimmy does something dangerous. Jimmy's dad looks at Jimmy's mom and says to her, "You've gotta admit, that was pretty cool."
A guy who gave his name and I don't remember it at all, but I think it might have been Phil, from a conservative group like the Family Research Council, but again I don't remember so it may have been George from Conservatives R Us, called because he liked my article. From Philadelphia, PA. Unless it was Pittsburgh, PA. (I was distracted, I expected a telemarketer.)
You've gotta admit, that is pretty cool.
When I wrote the article, Hubs told me it was my most powerful yet. I wasn't so sure. But I'm starting to believe it. Not that that says much, considering I'm not even up to 10 yet.
An interesting thing about this piece is that I submitted it about two days before my computer crashed so I don't even have a copy. I haven't read it in months. I don't even really remember what it said. And I haven't received my copies yet, because they printed it in the mid-life and beyond magazine and they send me parents. And people are commenting on it when they call and I don't remember it well enough to respond. Except I lived it and probably was feeling positive about being married to an entrepreneur on the day I wrote it.
But people calling expect me to be a grandmother, so I'm curious whether I sound like I've lived most of a life. (Though I will be the first to say that this life I lead sometimes feels like I put in double. Especially when we can go multiple months without a paycheck.)
Any-hoo. I now have 5 fans.