That Funny Feeling

Didja ever have that feeling that God was trying to tell you something and you can't quite figure out what He means? Sometimes I know exactly what He means and I don't want to do it (which is a problem in itself) so I pretend not to really know what He's saying.

Not this time.

Four times in two days I've heard the same message. Well, really the messages are tripping over themselves. We has a guest speaker in church Sunday morning. And he said so much that was good and that I brought home, but one thing that stood out was "Be faithful in the small things."

Hubs and I discussed it quite a lot Sunday afternoon and evening. And we are both going to make a concentrated effort to do that while we wait for A Bigger Life.

So Monday morning, bright and early, I got my Monday Motivation. She opened it with how she writes the devotionals and that she always prays for guidance because she wants it to be an effective word in season, etc (like it ALWAYS is). What did she say?

Be faithful in the small things.

So I forwarded it to Hubs and said "God is talking to me. What are my small things?????"

In the motivation, she also mentioned an abbreviated version of Beth Moore's story about brushing the stinky man's hair in the airport. (I'll post it in a minute in case you've never heard it.) I heard Beth tell this story back in the fall of 2005 and had totally forgotten it. Didn't hear it again until yesterday. Wouldn't you know it, someone forwarded me Beth's long version last night?

Seriously.

Well another thing the speaker on Sunday talked about was relationship. How you can't really have one without interaction and conversation etc. (And how we can't trust God if we don't know Him and we can't know Him if we don't meet with Him daily.) Yes, I got an email promoting a book that used a similar example. Actually the book wasn't saying that so much, but the example they used was this:

"A young man is in love with a young woman. He sings to her, dances for her, writes poems for her, picks flowers for her.. How does she express her love back to him? She talks to him, usually briefly. And that's all." (for the book Creative Prayer by ChrisTiegreen from Multnomah)

Ouch.

Actually, come to think of it, I'm reading this (really fun and cute) other book, Death of a Garage Sale Newbie (Sharon Dunn) where one of the main characters is having some marital stress. What is the issue? They've been married 35 years, but she doesn't know him. At least not the him she thought she was married to. So she feels like they are married strangers. And that isn't even the vast majority of the plot (as you should be able to tell from the title).

Just typing this I think maybe I know one of my small things. Which is really a big thing. I think God is feeling ignored. That He wants me to know Him better. Which sounds great to me. Now, how to get there?

Other small things that come to mind:
I've decided to quit trying to promote my book (which is quite probably not ready to see print) and focus on my smaller writing pieces. Focus on that which is before me and that I hear I have a talent for. And improve my craft.

And focus on keeping my kitchen clean. One can't fuss at God for an ugly, small kitchen when she doesn't even keep the one she uses nice.

I probably have a glaring "small thing" that I don't see. And if you can tell me about it nicely (I wound easily) I'd like to hear it. For now, I'm watching these.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Writing News

Or lack thereof.

A major deadline for a major fiction writing contest passed yesterday and I didn't participate. And I don't even feel saddened about it. I think I've had a breakthrough. Right now I'm going to concentrate on my non-fiction career, such as it is.

I find it weird that I'm an "important" person in a fiction writing organization and I'm shelving that part of my writing life for a while. Oh, well. Those are the people who encourage me so I'm sticking with them. And I wish them all the best.

Possum: The Saga

Does it count as sleeping through the night if Possum finally gives it up sometime after 1 AM

On my chest

In the recliner

Where I stay until I stumble back to my bed sometime in the five o'clock hour where we stay until ten 'till 7?

Just curious.

Isn't My Dad Talented?

Re-Grow

I'm going through re-grow. My hair falls out when I have a baby. Or maybe it breaks off.

Whatever.

I have all these whisps hanging in my face. Now I remember why I cut my hair when my babies are a month old. I wonder what stupid extreme I'll go to this time.

I know I'll regret it, whatever it is.

Dead, Dead, all Dead

The world around me is dead.

All the lovely spring flowers and trees that I raved about 2 weeks ago are dead. The newly leafed roses are dead. The maple leaves are dead. The willow leaves are dead. The lilies are dead. The pretty white flowering bush in my front yard is dead. The lilac buds are dead before they bloomed. The wheat it U-gly. (Or so I hear.)

It is so depressing.

If there is anything I hate more than winter, it is the return of winter when spring has already sprung. It destroyed a whole season and we won't get it back for a year.

If it comes back.

I don't see how the bulbs can properly do their thing with no live greenery to feed them. I don't see how my trees will leaf.

You should see them. All lifeless and droopy, those teeny little leaves.

Surely God knew the weather would be weird sometimes and has a contingency plan. That's what I keep telling myself. I've never been through a summer when there were no leaves on the trees and surely this has happened before. But my little brain can't see it. Especially when my favorite part, the flowers, won't return.

I'm thinking that my favorite part might be the leaves, though. I've just taken them for granted. Because the thought of a leaf free summer is so depressing.

The Good with The Bad

So this weekend, Possum was held 24/7, by loads of people who were often proud to have gotten him to sleep. "Look, I got him to sleep," they'd say. To which I would respond, if only in my selfish heart, "Getting him to sleep in the day is no big trick. You want to take the 3 AM shift?" By the end of the weekend I was insisting that people lay him down if he fell asleep (during the day) because it would wake him up. He LOVES to sleep while being held. Not so much alone in his bed.

And I've spent the last couple days trying to re-train him to sleep alone in his bed. Which is only a foot and a half from my bed so it isn't like he's all alone in the world.

Day one, not a chance.
Yesterday he took one long and a couple of short naps in his bed.
Today he's sleeping in his bed while I type. We'll see how long it lasts.

However, last night Possum technically slept through the night. Midnight to almost six.

Granted, he did it while cozied up to me in my bed.

I'll work on training him to his bed at night once I get enough sleep to not freak out when the clock says it is way past my bedtime and Possum has big eyes every time I have the nerve to lay him in his cradle.

A couple more nights like that one and I'll have to rename Possum. I'm thinking Sock Monkey.

Where is Home?

Hubs and I took the fam home for the Easter holiday. And then we came home yesterday. Which begs the question: Where is home? There is this draw we both have to move home. Which is funny considering we've lived in this house nearly as long as I ever lived in our hometown. And we've been in town here for twice that. Almost every time we go home there is at least one conversation about whether we should try to move back. And if so, how on earth to accomplish it?

Try finding a way to make a digital signage company successful in a Mennonite farming community. Barring that, how do you make a living? (Considering we are neither Mennonite (though we'd probably convert back) nor farmers (though Hubs could probably get a job on a farm because he worked one growing up(but they don't pay very well.)))

Here is the pro and con list. I'll let you determine which are the pros and which are the cons.

I'd trade midnight shopping for stores that close when the bank does.
I'd trade superstores for ten (decently stocked) aisles.
I'd trade a sister for a sister-in-law.
I'd trade annonimity for knowing nearly everyone.
I'd trade no grandparents for two full sets.
I'd trade exorbitantly priced babysitters for grandparents.
I'd trade three minutes to shopping for an hour drive.
I'd trade private school tuition for public school with Christian teachers.
I'd trade the ability to home school for offending people if I chose to.
I'd trade keeping the kids in the backyard for sending them out to bike around town.
I'd trade Starbucks for...okay, they have a tea shop or something fancy like that.
I'd trade a twenty friends for none. (I said I knew everyone, I didn't say they liked me.)
I'd trade people who know me now for people who knew me then...and I"m not sure they've forgiven me yet.
I'd trade small group on Friday nights for high school basketball games.
I'd trade "upper-lower class" for "lower-upper class" (assuming Hubs could find a way to maintain his salary).
Hubs would trade "self-made man" for "his father's son."
We'd trade neighborhood witness for neighbors who sit by us at church.
We'd trade Charismata for Mennonite.
We'd trade little family that we see rarely for lotta family we see lots.
We'd trade Sunday dinners of six for Sunday dinners of twelve.

I could go on and on. I don't know why we keep talking about it. It isn't as if there is a clear road to follow. No real potential method to go, anyway. And yet, talk we do. That family draw is a big one.

For the Sake of the Present

Today, had she made it to term, would be my Ellie's seventh birthday.

I've thought a lot about her today. When I got to her due date back in 2000 it was almost a relief. I had marked it and dreaded it for months. With each passing day I would watch the women around me with their swollen bellies and wonder if I would have looked like them. I mourned the loss of relationship with the child I would never hold. And I don't even know the gender. (Frankly, I've been wrong three for three so there is a fair chance that she was a he...). And I lost her so early in the pregnancy that many people wondered what the big deal was.

We'd "tried" for two years already by the time God blessed me with her. It was the first glimmer of hope that nothing was wrong. Except something was. But that isn't the reason that her loss was a big deal.

If I got pregnant today (and I do NOT want to be pregnant today--labor is TOO fresh) and I began bleeding next week, I would mourn the loss of that child. Because you lose the future. You lose the Easters and Christmases and the birthdays and the pigtails and the sunshine.

But if I'd had Ellie, I wouldn't have Eldest. And I wouldn't have Princess. And my cycles probably would have been such that I wouldn't have Frodo or Possum. My family would probably be all pink and matchy. There are two jobs I never would have worked. Friends I wouldn't have. Vacations I wouldn't have taken with Hubs and experiences I wouldn't have gone through.

I lost another baby only two short months after I lost Ellie. I never got around to calculating a due date because I lost that one so soon. And I was numb and had practically given up hope of ever carrying. Besides, I still mourned my little girl.

But, because of Ellie, I tipped over the adoption cliff. I made the calls to the social workers and the agencies. And I did the paperwork. And my friends learned of our trouble and began to pray.

Because of Ellie, I wrote the first stories and letters and the first people commented that I might have a future in writing. I wrote my first book.

There is something about what you have that makes it a little less painful to have lost. Because of the insane love I have for the children that live with me everyday, I no longer mourn the ones I lost. I know we Americans are crazy in the way we live for the moment, and I look at my precious children and I wonder how life would have been. But I don't wish it were that way. I wouldn't wish to have Ellie instead of any one of them.

This present is exactly where God would have me.

In Case Anyone Was Wondering How Spring Is Treating Us

No, this isn't my front yard, but it might as well be...it is the front yard of the place I'll be spending Easter. And it is cold enough here for this to happen.

Oh, for the days I left my windows open and could smell my spring flowers wafting on the breeze. (Note: I said breeze not gale.)

Praising God!

Possum's hip seems to be in working order. The Dr. feared that is was dislocated, but all is well today.

And Happy Birthday to the love of my life without whom life would have far less meaning.

Vignettes

Today I'm wearing my "maternity" shirt (that was never big enough for a belly) that says "Supermom" in what Princess calls "Bedazzler." I'm going on the philosophy of The Power of Positive Thinking. Or, as some people in church circles call it, Speaking into the Good. I'll let you know how it works.

Frodo has taken to wearing a pair of underwear on the top of his pants. When I asked him if he was Captain Underpants, he told me no. "I'm a superhero." Not Captain Underpants? "No, another superhero." I finally figured it out. Go look at your superheros. Particularly Superman and the Incredibles. They have an underwear looking thing of another color on their suits over their parts. Back in the 80s we wore undergutchies over our bodysuits in dance. I didn't know it gave me superpowers.

Eldest's eyes are swollen and miserable. Claritin is only making a small dent. Anyone have any suggestions?

Possum soaked me to the skin three times yesterday with projectile vomiting. Tis time. I hate this though. All my babies have done it. They don't have an automatic shut off valve so I have to do it for them. After only about five minutes of nursing. Because I could feed A SMALL NATION. And I feel mean because they don't get to fulfill their sucking reflex needs. And Possum gags on every pacifier available. Which means I have to train him to like his thumb. Like a fool (will say my lovely Mother-in-Law who reads this). So I'm trying to suffer through without the thumb (though he REALLY liked it last night). But my endurance isn't great, especially as the night hours grow long. What to do? What to do?

The Wonder Years

Frog has become Possum. That is, nocturnal. Until further notice...

So, I'm not a TV watcher. I have my programs I like, namely House and Grey's (yes, I know it is trashy), but other than that, the TV doesn't really go on. Unless I have a baby. One that doesn't like it when I hold anything but him (primarily a book). Then I go stark raving mad and eventually give it up and turn on the tv. Which, in turn, makes me stark raving mad.

Sitcoms aren't funny anymore. I'm not sure when it happened. I suppose while I wasn't watching TV. Do you remember when Thursday night TV was hours upon hours of hilarity?

Am I just getting old?

Any-hoo, we have a friend who insisted we weren't getting all the channels that we could get with our antennae so he set us up with a few more. Not sure why we get these channels, but thank goodness we do. At least until Possum turns back into Frog. Or until we can justify cable (which will not happen until the Chiefs aren't on the networks.)

I watched Mad About You. STILL FUNNY.

Then I watched a dude lose 80K on Deal or No Deal. NOT FUNNY.

Then I watched The Wonder Years. When they started playing the theme music Hubs and I looked at each other. Hubs said, "No way! Do you think we'll still like it? All I know is that that Winnie Cooper was HOT!"

I tell you, that show was, and still is, hilarious.

And Possum finally gave it up...in time for the thunderstorms that awakened the rest of the clan.

And Again

You'd think people were reading my blog or something. Except I'm pretty sure these people don't read my blog. Hubs came home early so I could have a nap. A friend called and is bringing supper tomorrow.

Now, the kids are still fighting and LOUD, but His grace is still there.

Amazing.

Alone in the World

Last night I had one of those debilitating moments when I was more than certain that I was alone in the world. I thought, "Never Mind. My friends stink, Hubs stinks, my attitude stinks and I am, in fact, going to die if I don't get some sleep." I composed my post to begin that way. And, truth be told, I still feel that way this morning. Except I know I'm not alone in the world. There are probably thousands, if not millions of mothers who didn't sleep last night, had a headache and when they went looking for reinforcements, found them sleeping peacefully. Those same mothers probably had to get up with their other kids this morning while the baby, who finally gave it up, sleeps in his cradle.

I'm still mad at the world, but I'm trying to have faith. Because when God told me that he wanted me to have this baby, I had no choice but to trust Him that this time it could/would be better and if it wasn't, His grace would be sufficient.

And, as usual, this morning I got a devotional from Fresh Outlook that is appropriate to my circumstances. I don't know how they got my email address, but I tell you, every time I read it it fits. If you are going through a tough time, here ya go.

Have you ever found yourself in a position where you just simply didn’t know what to do next? You started out strong, believing God, trusting His word, yet you can’t seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Let’s think about that for a moment; you find yourself walking through a tunnel, a dark place, you see the light afar off, you walk and walk, but don’t appear to be getting any closer to the light. Have you been there? Most of us have. So, what do you do? Well, you have two options; 1. Sit down and die there 2. Keep walking. I would suggest you keep walking. It reminds me of a movie I saw years ago. A young girl had been kidnapped by terrorists, they held her captive in a deep wilderness area, surrounded by cliffs and mountains, and she had no way of escape. Of course people were looking for her; a CIA agent located her and had her in her sights. She began to converse with the young girl through her headphones. The young girl couldn’t see the agent, but as the agent told her to walk toward her, she began to walk. She didn’t know where she was going; she was simply following the voice. At one point, she heard the kidnapper coming toward her from behind, she started to stop and turn around. But the agent said ‘no, don’t stop, keep walking toward me.’ So she kept walking, ignoring the kidnapper who was trying to get her to stop, she pretended she didn’t hear him and kept walking toward her deliverance. She kept walking toward the one person who had the authority and the force to eliminate her enemy and deliver her to safety. It also makes me think of Lot’s wife, remember her? God sent His angels to deliver Lot’s family because of His covenant with Abraham, but as they were escaping, Lot’s wife stopped and looked back and that is where she remained for the rest of time. II Corinthians says we walk by faith, not by sight. We walk by faith, that means we must keep moving. No matter what we see, no matter what we feel; no matter who tries to stop us, we keep moving, walking by faith. We don’t look around or look back ~ we keep walking toward the voice that has the authority and the force to eliminate every enemy in our lives and manifest our deliverance. We could learn a lesson about this from Peter. As with Peter, the Lord will certainly bid us to come and walk on the water with Him, after all, that’s why He went to the cross, so we could walk as He walks. Jesus told Peter to come out onto the water with Him, and he did, and he walked on the water. But the moment he became afraid and began looking around, he began to sink. When you have stepped out by faith, onto the water, it is no time to become afraid or get into doubt. It is time to keep yourself so full of the word of God that doubt and unbelief have no place to come to. If you can do that ~ you will continue to walk on water. James 1:6 tells us that he who wavers receives nothing from the Lord. But the word also says in Luke 1:37 that not one word from God will prove powerless. That, my friend, is good news. Not one word that God has spoken to you will prove powerless. If God spoke it to you, or if you read it in the Bible, I can assure you, not one word from God will prove powerless. God’s word is truth, it is powerful and it is full of life. Our God is well able to keep His promises. So, what is our part? Just keep walking. Trust God. Believe He is who He says He is. Keep Believing. Keep your words right and just keep walking. If you do these things, the Light at the end of the tunnel will find you. That light is Jesus and He will not fail you. He is right there with all authority and force and has already eliminated your enemy. That voice you hear speaking to you, trying to get you to stop, it’s just a lie, there is no real power to stop you behind that voice…keep walking. Jesus prayed for Peter that his faith would not fail him and He is praying the same thing for you today. Trust Him. He has never failed anyone yet and he is not going to start with you. Keep walking. editor@freshoutlookmag.com

Better, or Just Older?

So, Frog is three weeks old. And I'm thinking I look pretty darn good, considering.

What I want to know is this: Do I really look that much better (nekked) than I did after Princess and Frodo were born (there is no contest with Eldest, I looked GREAT when he was three weeks old, I have photos to prove it. Probably in a bikini) or am I just old enough that flabby is my new status quo? Maybe I've been married long enough that I'm just more comfortable in my skin...all the excess skin.

Don't get me wrong, I don't want to stay here. I have AT LEAST 10 pounds to go, but having ONLY 10 pounds to go ALREADY seems too easy.

Ask me again in 6 months. The Blue Bell is tasting pretty stinkin' good.

oy vey

Last night, a dear person in my life scared the bejeebers out of me. She has been carrying a blighted ovum for a full trimester and her body finally decided to give it up yesterday. Which is hard enough to deal with for all of us, but we worried for a while that we might lose her as well.

Thank God, we didn't. Man, nothing like hearing one of your best friends slurring words and nearly incoherent while she asks you to come take care of her kids to make you hit your knees in earnest.

Spring!

I haven't been out much this month, as you might imagine, but I have gone to pick my kindergarteners up from school this week. And I noticed that Spring has sprung.

Don't you just love the flowering trees and spring bulbs? A couple years ago I planted a bunch of hyacinth bulbs in a corner patch of my front yard. I can smell them all the way up here in my dining room as I type. How I love the smell. (Princess thinks they stink like dog poop...I think it is due to the black dog that pees in that particular flower bed every stinking day. In other words, it is in her head.) My daffodils are blooming profusely. My tulips are trying (there are a few blooms). My lilacs have buds and most of my other flowering shrubs are either budding or in bloom. Oh, and the flowering crab trees....heavenly.

Is there any question why my mother has always called me spring fever?

Okay, but am I the only one who has noticed that Bradford pear blooms really DO smell like dog poop? And, seriously, every other house here has one. Some have whole rows of them planted. They are pretty, but if you are confined inside until the blooms fall off, what good are they?

Frodo's Famous!

As I do often, I checked out the writing opps that came through the ACFW loop and I found one where I could participate. An author was asking for quotes from kids about their Grandmas. She based it on specific questions and my normally very cute children gave very boring answers. But I sent her a recent quote of Frodo's and we made the book!

It just figures that my three-year-old son has made it into a book before I have. Then again he can't read or type, so I suppose it is all thanks to me...

What I would have said yesterday...

If I had been able to get my bloggity self online:

This is where the faint of heart (or the not so cheap) give up nursing. I'm trying to decide how faint my heart is. There just comes a point in every woman's life where one must decide if they are indeed at that point where

I. Am. Going. To. Die.

If I don't get some sleep.

See, this week is where I am back full time. My big kids are back. Hubs is back to work. And everyone thinks they need clean clothes and food.

Legitimate needs.

But, if one is up all night with a baby who thinks he needs to nurse every 30 minutes, and gets mad because he doesn't really want to nurse, he really just wants to be held, but he roots around
and mom is desperate and has no other ideas to get the baby back to sleep, but the baby acts less like a hungry baby than a kitten kneading mom's stomach with his feet and yanking with his gums and punching and fighting.....

you get the idea.

And the big kids need help with their reading, and they need to be held and loved and kissed and paid attention to and breakfast made and hair combed and to top that off wake the baby every BLASTED TIME MOM GETS HIM TO SLEEP BECAUSE THEY NEED TO HOLD HIM!!!!

So about 4:30 yesterday morning I decided that maybe bottles and daddy weren't such a bad idea after all.

But I found / figured something out yesterday before I got to my whine-blog. I have great friends. Far more or better or something than the friends I had four years ago when I went through this and sank into a pit of despair. Or maybe I'm better at admitting when I can't handle it. So far this week I've had several people check in with me. Offer to go to the store for me. Drop off casseroles for me (that weren't scheduled with the church). And, the topper, pick up my big kids for the afternoon so that I could take a nap.

It is amazing the difference a two hour nap can make. Like doubling the amount of sleep I'd had in 24 hours.

And then last night, Frog slept (I think) six hours in a row. Since I have strategically placed the clock so that I can't see it so that I don't know how little sleep I'm getting, I'm not sure. But I think it said 4:30 when he woke for the first time and I think he went to sleep around 10. What I do know is that he slept so long and so well I was ready for him to wake (if you know what I mean) and I got up to check if he was breathing three times.

What a difference a day makes.

Post 302

The adrenaline has worn off and the selfishness has kicked in.

I once had a friend who told me, "You never know how selfish you are until you get married...and then you never know how selfish you are until you have children."

How true.

The truth is, I didn't want to make bread this morning while Frog slept. I wanted to sleep. I didn't want to let the big kids hold the baby when he was being nice, I wanted them to leave him alone so that he would continue to be nice. I don't want to mess up my nice loaves of bread to let Frodo eat the dough (even though it is his favorite part). I haven't read since my kids came home and I'm a book reviewer. I need to read. For my sanity and for my obligations. Need I go on?

Selfishness, thy name is Jamie.

BYW, I just found a peanut in the loaf of bread I disfigured to give Frodo a piece of dough (that I should have remembered to save out, but I'm suffering sleep deprivation). A peanut.

I can only assume that happened while my dough was "sponging" while I quickly rinsed off in the shower. Three year olds.

I'd tell you what I'm reading, but I'm NOT.

Lunch

Guess what I'm getting ready to eat, by choice.

Burrito.

(insert hysterical laughter here)

Oh, Crud

It occurred to me this weekend that I have crossed the threshold.

I technically have enough children to blog at www.largerfamilies.blogpot.com

I have four children now.

FOUR.

People have one accidentally, even two accidentally, or two because that is what you are supposed to do once you've been married X number of years (The magic number here is 2 for one 4 for two). People who really love kids may have three. I have four.

Four people are under my responsibility.

When you have four children you are no longer allowed to complain about the difficulties of parenting. You are supposed to know what you are getting yourself into by the time you reach four. And I did. Boy did I. I spent the last nine months mumbling aloud to myself "Four. Four people. Another person."

It isn't even that I want to complain about my kids. I don't set out to do so. But some days I'VE HAD IT! AND I NEED TO TELL SOMEONE! VERY LOUDLY!

Nope, no more. I am no longer allowed to the luxury of "real mom," I have crossed into saint.

Can't you see my halo? CAN'T YOU SEE MY HALO?

I ENJOY WAKING UP ALL HOURS OF THE NIGHT TO FEED THIS FOURTH PERSON!
AND I CAN'T WAIT TO GET UP IN THE MORNING TO BREAK UP FIGHTS!
AND I DIDN'T WANT A SHOWER TODAY ANYWAY, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
POOPY DIAPERS? LOVE TO CHANGE THEM!
NO I DON'T NEED ANY HELP! IT IS ALL UNDER CONTROL!
SURE, I DID HAVE A BABY ONLY TWO WEEKS AGO, BUT I'D LOVE TO TAKE THIS NAP TIME AND CLEAN THE GARAGE!
LAUNDRY? YOU'RE KIDDING, RIGHT? I ONLY HAVE SEVEN LOADS TO DO TODAY!
NO BIGGIE!

(I am quite mentally stable this AM, thanks for your worries. I'm just demonstrating my cracking point because when it gets really bad, I won't.)

So NOT Right

I so don't agree with this, but hey, whatever.

Your 80s Heartthrob Is

Scott Baio

Who's Your 80's Heartthrob?

Sanjaya Take 2

Have you all seen this?

No-stinkin' wonder....

http://www.votefortheworst.com/

Kudos to Mandy for confirming that my hearers weren't off.

March Madness

So help me if it was one moment longer, I would take a baseball bat to my television.

I wonder how many women call their marriages quits during this season?

No that I will, I'm just curious.

Frog's day

Frog has had a terrible day.

First, his mother had the audacity to serve up something for his midnight snack that he didn't want. He couldn't tell her what he did want so he was FORCED to fuss for better than two hours. When she finally figured it out that he wanted to sleep on her chest in the recliner, he got a few zzzz's.

But not enough. His dad woke his mom at 6:30 so that they could make it to a doctor's appointment. He had to switch chests for sleeping and that really annoyed him.

And THEN his mom put his stinky sour milk self in the shower and WASHED HIS HAIR!!!!

If that wasn't bad enough. His parents strapped him into some contraption so that he could ride in the car...and no one held him for 20 minutes.

And then, and then, they strapped him into another contraption and someone cut his Peter.

Talk about your bad days.

Mom is having a pretty crummy one herself. Though I understand that her doctor prayed for them before he started cutting and let her cry with Frog.

Sanjaya

I don't get it.

Now Malinda, I understand. But Sanjaya?

But I'll freely admit this is the first full episode I've watched this season. (I have watched the closing credits enough to know who the people are and their little sound bites of music.) It may be the last.

Really, are there any guys who have a fighting chance?

And, hopefully, this is the last time I will blog about American Idol...

Burrito, or Burrito?

First, I must address this "hero" status that I've been handed. And once you read the whole post, you'll understand how truly unheroic I really am. Granted 22 pounds in a week sounds like a lot. And if the second 22 came off as easily as the first, yeah, maybe I'd qualify as someone's hero. I think it would also be terribly unhealthy. Just let me remind you that the first, oh, 10 came "off" when Frog came out. And I suspect another 5 was water that came "off" in the next 24 hours. The rest? Well, it takes a lot of calories to burn with fever and make milk. And I didn't eat that many calories. Here's why.

So, the night before I went into labor I made a pot of beans. For burritos. They are easy and my family eats them well. We had them a time or two. And then I suggested that my mom make "pan burritos" which is kinda like a layered enchilada (ala lasagna).

When Mom left with the kids on Wednesday Hubs and I were left to fend for ourselves. Except I've been sick as a dog. So when mealtime came around one of us would ask the other, "What ya wanna eat? Burrito, or burrito?"

We're pretty sick of burritos. Hence, I haven't been eating as much as I should.

So, Friday night, Hubs went over to a friends house to watch KU in the tourney. When he walked in our friend says, "Have you had supper? We have some extra burritos."

Canned chicken noodle soup has never tasted so good.

One Week Later

The Frog is a week old today and I've already lost 22 pounds. THIS is why I scoff at people who tell me I should only gain 25 total. What would my body use to get me through the next 6 months if I was back to pre-pregnancy weight today? What would my milk supply be like?

Speaking of milk...poor little guy. It's like trying to drink from a geyser. Not that I've ever tried that. But the way he chokes and snorts and gulps and spews...well, you get the idea. We've already crossed over into projectile vomiting, too. Thankfully he is my third to nurse and I have seen the pattern. It isn't my baby's weak stomach, it is my overabundant milk supply. I feel guilty cutting him off so quickly, before his suckling need is fulfilled, but I also hate to be soaked down to my skivvies every time he sits up, chokes and empties 9/10 of what he just ate.

When your stomach is the size of a walnut, you shouldn't eat a whole watermelon, no matter how good it tastes.

I'm finally feeling a little better today. Yesterday my fever spiked back up. I do this every time, I don't know why I don't just expect it. I don't remember the fever, but the respiratory thing, ugh.

Yesterday was my first "due date" (based on ovulation). Super glad I wasn't in labor. Tomorrow is the day I'd decided I wanted to have the baby. Glad I won't be doing that either.

All in all, a decent week.

Frog's unveiling!

The Miracle of Life

Thankfully it seems my fever was only a 24 hour thing for which I am quite relieved. I think my mom was worried that I might have gone septic. And considering some lady died recently after having her baby at home and going septic (she didn't have a midwife and wouldn't see a doctor...thus NOT ME) I was a little concerned. However, I seem to be well-ish again and am thankful to those of you that prayed.

Have you ever thought about the miracle that babies are? I mean, two half cells come together and make a whole cell that grows into this perfect person. And most of the time, it works just like that. They come out knowing they have to breathe, eat, and fill their diapers. And their bodies just do it. They know who their mamas are. They are a whole other person. Right from the start.

After three years of infertility, I thought I knew the miracle they were. I mean, I still do. But my brain is wrapping around it again now that this little lump of a person I call Frog is here.

My doctor once told me that even IF you (ahem) at the exact right time, there was still only an 11% chance of getting pregnant for most people. And that as many as 80% of those pregnancies end before the woman even knows she is pregnant. But for those of us who got beyond those statistics...wow.

Ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes that blink, a complete digestive system, good breath sounds, strong heart. Wow.

And there are still people out there that don't believe in God. Amazing.

You're not going to believe this

I spiked a fever today of 102. I could use prayer.

Tylenol is my friend.

My sincerest apologies!

Less than fifteen minutes after that last post, I lost my internet for 36 hours! It's just wrong. Wrong, I say!

So.....

It's a boy (which we knew). 8 lb 7 oz born at 4:21 Friday afternoon in my bedroom in a decked out horse tank. (I just lost most of you, didn't I?) Those are the necessary details.

And now for the rest of the details.

In the interest of sticking to my accidental fantastical blog naming of my children, this one shall be referred to as Frog (like the frog prince) until he better establishes himself as a personality that isn't all hunched into frog shape. Hubs already calls him chipmunk. I think he means like those pink hairless newborn creatures not the hyperactive hole diggers that eat Fruit Loops out of your hands.

I did make it to the shower and I highly recommend women worldwide schedule a shower for their early labor as a nice distraction. Though, I have to say, by the end of the two hours, I was ready to head for home and less of an audience. Just as I was heading out the door, my friends grabbed me and prayed for me and man, my contractions took a turn for the hard. I consider that a good thing, I hate puttering along for hours on end.

My sister and I picked the big kids up from school, we took them home and fed them and then she took them to her home. I burst into tears like I always do at this point. So Hubs called in the midwife. Of course, as soon as she showed up I had no contractions for fifteen minutes. My body always does that.

However, I started packing up swimsuits and loading the dishwasher and stuff and, lo and behold, high gear.

We watched KU cream Oklahoma (? (as if I gave a rip at that point)) and then I took to my tank.

About 3:30 my doorbell started to ring. For. The. Love. Of all things holy. I'm sitting somewhere between a nine and full and people are delivering bouquets (which I'm thankful for, just the timing was a little, um, unusual).

Long story shorter: Hard labor for about 4 hours and done. Ten days early. All in all a great day. He is healthy. I have a supply of nourishment that made its appearance last night. I'm surrounded by people who love me.

(I'm a prisoner in my bedroom without internet.)

I can tote my laptop to the top of the stairs and get a good enough connection to post a blog and answer email. People continue to show up with flowers. My feet have made a reappearance. Sitting isn't a problem (read: no tearing). I have a wonderful new child to teach about Jesus, but he is already teaching me.

And for those of you that I would recognize if you show up at my door, Grand Central Station is open for visitors.

he's out

details soon

no baby yet

But I have a lot of diapers.

Labor is progressing. About every three minutes, about a minute long. It has gone into my back. I think we'll get this thing done today. Hopefully before sunset.

Keep praying.

Yep

Definitely going to do this thing. My contractions still aren't regular, but my water did go from trickle to break and (men beware) my mucus plug made an appearance.

I'm off to my own baby shower. Back by noon.

Guess What We Get To Do Today

I am fairly confident we are going to have a baby.

Check back.

:-)

Goosebumps

How long has it been since you've gotten goosebumps while reading a book? I can tell you it has been too long for me. But I just did.

Bill Bright & Jack Cavanaugh's FIRE page 304.

This is why I'm not a published novelist.

Still here

Still pregnant.

Just have little to say.

My house is a disaster area.

My "nesting instinct" has gone into hibernation.

My feet ache.

And the weather has turned nice.

And I realized last night I should wash some receiving blankets. It isn't like towels are made for swaddling.

A Valley of Betrayal by Tricia Goyer

Do you have a time period you just love to read? Or watch. Whatever. I do. I love the depression era, the WWII era (might as well throw on the roaring 20s). Maybe because I didn't have to live it. Maybe because I like the look of the shoes. I'm shallow, I admit it. But something about that time period fascinates me. It has ever since The Diary of Anne Frank or The Hiding Place. I can't remember which came first for me.

Imagine my joy and surprise when I found out that an author I love to read came up with another topic to write in my time period. But on a war I'd never heard of. The Spanish Civil War.

As usual, Tricia Goyer writes from several points of view that seem so disconnected until...they aren't. I just love it. And I love learning about history that I didn't know even existed.

She apparently didn't either. Here's what Tricia has to say about the story behind the story:

A few years ago when I was researching for my fourth World War II novel, Arms of Deliverance, I came across a unique autobiography. One B-17 crewmember I read about claimed to make it out of German-occupied Belgium after a plane crash due, in part, to his skills he picked up as a veteran of The Spanish Civil War. Reading that bit of information, I had to scratch my head. First of all, I had never heard of the war. And second, what was an American doing fighting in Spain in the late 1930s? Before I knew it, I uncovered a fascinating time in history—one that I soon discovered many people know little about. This is what I learned:

Nazi tanks rolled across the hillsides and German bombers roared overhead, dropping bombs on helpless citizens. Italian troops fought alongside the Germans, and their opponents attempted to stand strong—Americans, British, Irishmen, and others—in unison with other volunteers from many countries. And their battleground? The beautiful Spanish countryside.

From July 17, 1936-April 1, 1939, well before America was involved in World War II, another battle was fought on the hillsides of Spain. On one side were the Spanish Republicans, joined by the Soviet Union and The International Brigade—men and women from all over the world who have volunteered to fight Fascism. Opposing them, Franco and his Fascist military leaders, supported with troops, machinery, and weapons from Hitler and Mussolini. The Spanish Civil War, considered the “training ground” for the war to come, boasted of thousands of American volunteers who joined to fight on the Republican side, half of which never returned home.

Unlike World War II, there is no clear line between white and black, good and evil. Both sides committed atrocities. Both sides had deep convictions they felt worth fighting and dying for.

Loyalists—also know as the Republicans were aided by the Soviet Union, the Communist movement, and the International Brigades. If not for the weapons and volunteers from these sources their fight would have ended in weeks rather than years. While many men fought side by side, their political views included that of liberal democracy, communism and socialism. The Catholic Basque Country also sided with the Republic, mainly because it sought independence from the central government and was promised this by Republican leaders in Madrid.

Nationalists—or Francoists were aided mainly by Germany and Italy. The Nationalist opposed an independent Basque state. Their main supporters were those who believed in a monarchist state and fascist interests. The Nationalist wished for Spain to continue on as it had for years, with rich landowners, the military, and the church running the country. Most of the Roman Catholic clergy supported the Nationalists, except those in the Basque region.

During the Spanish Civil war, terror tactics against civilians were common. And while history books discuss the estimated one million people who lost their lives during the conflict, we must not forget that each of those who fought, who died, had their own tales. From visitors to Spain who found themselves caught in the conflict, to the communist supporters, Basque priests, and Nazi airmen . . . each saw this war in a different light. These are the stories behind A Valley of Betrayal.

Jamie here: In case you missed Tricia's wonderful WWII books, I suggest you jump in on this one from book one. And while you are waiting for the next in the series to come out, you can read From Dust and Ashes, Night Song, Dawn of a Thousand Nights, and Arms of Deliverance.

Just to keep me humble

Frodo was mushing marshmallows on his face and showing me how they stick when I giggled and said, "I like you."

He said, "I wike you, too."

And Princess joined in to say, "If I had a step-mother and she was really mean, I'd want you back."

So I said, "What if she was really nice?"

And she said, "I'd probably just keep her."

You know it's time...and other random thoughts.

You know it is time to go see the doctor when even your child's substitute teacher is recommending her specialist for a "problem" you hoped would pass (as boredom).

...to teach your six year old propriety when he tells the doctor, "My mom bought a whole lot of junk food this morning." (translation: mom bought microwave popcorn that I've been begging for for a month and marshmallows to make a dessert.)

...to do something about your naughty kids when they can no longer hear you unless you raise your voice. They used to be so obedient. I have no idea what happened. Perfect mothers, I could use some advice.

...to bring on the tears (as if I could help it) when the doctor tells you what you already knew and tries to make that the end of the visit. Um, no, I have no intention of spending $89 to have you tell me it is not an infection. I knew that part...I want to know what it IS.

Since when is cash faux pas? Seriously, the receptionists look at you like you are nuts when you try to pay...and then try to do it in cash. Look, I don't get the discount if I use my mastercard, my checking account is empty and I'm holding out cash to you. Sure, you can run it through my "insurance," not get paid and six months later bill me. That sounds fantastic. Six months same as cash. However, I am holding green under your nose and you don't want it?

Then again, the "cash only" store (Aldi, which recently added debit cards) has also suddenly developed a cash allergy. What have we come to? (That wasn't fair, he did go into the back and get me some change. And they had only been open for 20 minutes.)

Costco is not cheap. They drew me in with their coupons, which were mostly good deals, but their rack prices are a bit, um, exorbitant. Why not just buy it at the grocery store?

However, they do have this product that I'm super excited about: Bolthouse Farms "Perfectly Protein" mocha cappuccino. At this stage of pregnancy I'm thrilled to find anything resembling coffee that also aids in my protein intake. When your stomach is the size of a walnut and you need to eat 100 grams of protein a day...let's just say the coffee replacement that has 10g per cup and no artificial sweeteners (which tastes quite good) helps. And no, at this point, I DO NOT look at carbs. Don't ask.

And I think I told you about a book list I was working though that recommends 100 books children should be exposed to before they are 12. I ordered the first 6 that we haven't read and we especially love this one:

A Phonics Lesson

Courtesy Princess, age five.

Her teacher's name is Mrs C. I saw an envelope addressed to her this week:

"Miss isee" Well, yeah, I'm sure she answers to that, too.


And here is Princess' story she wrote yesterday, with my translation:

vu caoe sleps in u pns tn vu caoe uax up
(The cow sleeps in the pens then the cow wakes up.)

vu cao gis hut hurt
(The cow gets (I think this is two tries at) hurt.)

va caoo gis btr
(The cow gets better.)

vu caooe gis bedr
(she must have forgotten she'd already done this line.)

vu caooe gose too seep
(The cow goes to sleep.)

vu caooe haz u drem vu dreem iv scirre
(The cow has a dream, the dream is scarry.)

Hes scird us vu dreem
(He's scared of the dream.)

on see noe on it goes ba too slep
(When see no one it goes back to sleep.)

Ah, let the expression of ideas begin!

He's Always Been So Sensitive

Yesterday I read Eldest a book about Abraham Lincoln. We like Lincoln in this house so he already knew the story, basically. He really knows a lot about several of the presidents. Probably more than his mother.

He wants to live in the White House when he grows up, but doesn't want to be president. He's leaving that to his girl friend down the street. He wants to be the first husband. He says being president means you get shot in the head. I can't convince him otherwise.

So I finished the book yesterday and he rested his head against my arm. I thought he was sleepy...until I heard the beginnings of tears.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sad that Abraham Lincoln is dead."

"Oh, hon, he'd be dead by now anyway."

"I'm sad that he got shot in the head."

"Well, yeah, that is sad." (It didn't even say that in this book.)

"I'm sad about the other president that got shot in the head, too. (pause) Kennedy."

He cried for quite a while. I wish we all felt as passionate about our presidents, past and current.

Chocolate Beach by Julie Carobini

Dude-ettes, you gotta get this book.

I happened upon Julie's blog nigh upon a year ago...back when we could shamelessly promote our blog on the ACFW loop and she wanted comments on a dead email Friday. She cracked me up and I kept visiting.

So, I heard about Chocolate Beach back when February 2007 seemed like an eon away and I looked forward to its release. I got to see its cover in the planning stages (I think I voted that the title should be in bolder print). I celebrated when the promotional web stuff began to come out.

And then I began to fret.

What if I hated it?

It is her first novel, ya know.

Because by this time I'd been reviewing for a while. And there is nothing like reading a bunch of mediocre books to make a person a little cynical about another book, by another author.

After I had been reviewing books for a while I noticed a trend beginning. I'd look forward to a book with great anticipation only to begin it and grow in disappointment as I read.

I found that I wasn't too fond of the mom-lit genre in general. Too whiny.

NOT THAT CHOCOLATE BEACH IS MOM-LIT, BECAUSE IT IS NOT.

It is sassy women's fiction. The genre I thought I created right up until I found Julie's web site. And sassy women's fiction is ever so much better than mom-lit.

So anyway, I started Chocolate Beach a little wary. First because I wanted so badly to like a fellow blogger's book and second because I was afraid that I wouldn't.

But I loved it from page one. And I read all 334 pages in no time flat. Something less than a day, I believe. And she had me cracking up. Really and truly laugh-out-loud funny. And it takes a lot to get that out of me anymore.

So, I could give you back cover copy about Bri Stone and her awesome beach life that she worries her husband is so over...but you know what? That copy doesn't do it justice, so you're just gonna have to trust me, K?

If you are a chocolate lover, the cover should be enough to make you lick your lips and buy it.
If you aren't, know that you don't have to love chocolate to love the book.

You just have to be able to tolerate a brownie batter fight...and chocolate chili.

Gotta Love 'Em

This morning, as I was trying to ignore my short people who got up before the sun, I heard this conversation:

"Frodo took my tissues."

"Princess, you don't need to blow yours nose, you just sniff yours snot like this (snAARF!)."

What a delicious thought at 6:22 on a Monday morning.

Later, as Frodo and I were driving he informed me, "I don't have to blow mys nose, I just sniff it...and sometimes I eat it. It tastes good. Like chips."

See why I use pseudonyms for these poor kids? In fifteen years some cruel chick will google Frodo and come up with nuthin.

Something's Wrong With Me

My in-laws are due here in less than an hour. Instead of "picking up" (which, incidentally, needs to happen) , I am scrubbing the walls.

I know it is early, but I only do this when I'm within 48 hours of labor.

I wonder.....

I Don't know What They are Talking About

I'm not "nesting...."

No I did not clean out and vacuum my van yesterday, freeze three meals and dust the inside of my TV cabinet at 10PM.

I did not fry 18 pounds of hamburger and freeze it in one pound portions this week.

Didn't cook four pounds of turkey and freeze it either. (Well, we ate the other pounds.)

I did not just vacuum under my daughter's bed and bookcase.

Didn't spend hours organizing my laundry room last weekend.

Didn't dust and fix my ceiling fan last night.

Scrub the mildew out of the runners of my shower door.

Clean my baseboards.

Organize the kids books.

Dust the plate rail in my kitchen.

Make four dozen cookies for the freezer...with plans to do a few more dozen.

Sort all my paper and drop it at the proper recycling locations.

Sort the puzzles.

Sort the cd drawer.

Or maybe I did.

I'm sure that isn't all, but you get the point. And if those are just normal, everyday, activities for you, more power to ya.

Ah, Vindication!

My kids both came home from school with these notes from the librarian that said, "Our Shelves are getting empty, Are your's getting full?" With a list of the books they supposedly still have.

At least one of the books, I've never seen. One I distinctly remembered finding and sending back with Princess. The other we had ages ago and I'm wondering how it could be in my house and not seen since September.

So, book by book, I went through my bookshelves, van, car and didn't find them.

I've declared that they have to be at the school. There is no other option.

This morning I went to the school a half hour early and combed the library's shelves.

What did I find? All, yes ALL the books.

When I'm right, I'm right.

Granted, sometimes I'm wrong and just as vocal, but this time I'm right.

And since I'm talking about kids books, I'm going through this list now. Some I agree with, some I plan to check out and see before I commit.

Grieving

I lost someone yesterday. And I wasn't the one who lost anyone. But I was looking forward to this someone.

And my belly is still huge.

My father has suffered survivors guilt for years since his company was sent to Vietnam while he was sent to Germany...and his whole company was obliterated sans him. We are of course glad to have him, but the pain he suffers anytime there is a documentary is awful. I hope he doesn't read this.

I think I have baby surviving guilt. In this warmer weather, I find myself trying to hide a nearly full term belly behind big warm clothes instead of the cooler she's-obviously-going-to-pop-soon clothes. Hiding from everyone. Because you never know if that sad (or happy-ish) looking woman in aisle 3 is dying to be pregnant and my waddle hurts her on the deepest level.

But today I'm grieving another loss and wondering if my presence will hurt or help.

Super Size Me

Last night Hubs and I watched "Super Size Me," and independent film (documentary) of a guy who only ate McDonald's for a month and the effect it had on his body.

I'm grossed out.

I knew it. I did. I really don't eat a whole lot of McDonald's anyway.

But.

However.

Whatever.

Some of the info he spliced in between him barfing french fries all over the parking lot made me re-evaluate everything my family puts in their mouths...again.

Yesterday I cooked a turkey breast. After the movie I picked the carcass, flinging skin, bones and fat into the trash and gagging. I'm beginning to wonder if I will get to enjoy my favorite treat of ice cream after the kids are in bed at night, ever again. (Because not only McDonald's took a hit, they attacked Baskin Robbins, too.)

Ugh. I still want to puke.

So, if you want to induce self flagellation go rent this one: Oh, with a warning, this is secular and therefore the language and lifestyle is....below par. But the info is worth it.

Anyone else....

tired of getting Viagra email?

For every one email I get from a friend, I think I get 10 trying to make my parts larger.

Yeah, good luck with that.

anXITETY!!!!!

I'm losing sleep at a time when I really need it.

I can't seem to make myself do anything but maintain.

I can't seem to even maintain.

Thankfully people are bringing my family food.

But write?

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha .....HA!!!!!!!

What A Man!

I was going to blog yesterday on "WHY I DETEST VALENTINES DAY," but since I spent Tuesday night with my head in the sink (because I can't bend over enough to stick my head in the toilet) I spent yesterday on the couch eating saltines and drinking Sprite. Yet another reason to detest V-Day, but that's for next year.

I'd just like to take a moment to brag on Hubs who brought his sweet daughter roses last night. She lit up like a Christmas tree and didn't quite understand (she knew it was v-day...just didn't understand why Daddy brought her flowers). Princess has had a bit of a crushing blow to her self confidence the last few months and we've been really worried about her attitude and self-image. But that Daddy thought of that without my input at all...well that made my day.

My Stomach Keeps Popping

There is a certain spot that keeps making a pop, or crack, or snap...can't really describe it...like a zipper (which I haven't worn for months) snapping down--when the baby kicks it.

It is really bizarre and wholly unnatural.

Snow Day!

Seriously. Is is just me or are schools these days cancel happy? I know this would never have shut down school in MY day. And my day wasn't all that long ago, was it?

Hubs says they are suit scared.

What a world we live in when education is less valued than avoiding a payout (because, of course, education is less valued than getting the big payout, I suppose...)

*****

I just finished this book last night. It was quite interesting considering how applicable it seems at the outset to be to my life. But it didn't take three pages for me to know that this tribute by a black man to his white mother had nothing but skin color for me to compare. It was still excellent.

What Kind of Mother...

allows herself to be paid to let her three-year-old play with lighters?

The same kind, I suppose, who saves dirty diapers and evaluates wipes for money.

Shoot, if my kid can be paid $2 a minute to see if a child proof lighter is really childproof, I'm all for it.

College here we come.

I do think I have a limit. I don't think I'd let them test out allergy meds on my kids or anything. (The lighters had no fuel. I'm not stupid.)

And I read the best book this weekend. It isn't out yet, but you should pre-order this one!

Agent / Writing Update

For those of you who encouraged me to query the agent that I wasn't really ready to query I should let you know I did.

She's looking at a partial now.

I can't decide how to have people pray, so it seems like a good time to let the Holy Spirit intercede.

Unless I get my MS "done--done" before this baby comes out, it ain't-a-goina-happen.

Of course it has been "done" so many times it's no wonder I can't seem to get it done again.

On the other hand, it looks like Focus on the Family is doing fiction again. Of course, the acquisitions editor is a different person, so who knows whether I'll ever resurface there, but hey, a girl can dream.

Spinning Plates

You know those days where you have all your plates spinning and everything comes together perfectly? Yesterday wasn't one of those.

Today isn't looking to be much better.

Easy As Pie

Why do people say that? Have you ever made a pie? It isn't easy. That is unless you use a frozen pie crust, a can of pie filling and Cool Whip. And then it isn't (probably) a good pie. Well, it isn't my mom's pie.

I suppose no one ever said easy as good pie.

Just doing my best to expose the inconsistencies of the English language, yet again.

Just So You Know

If you think it might be a good idea to take your kids to a Superbowl party(across town about 45 minutes) on Sunday night, after they've spent Saturday night in a hotel with their grandparents, after you went to Friday night growth group meeting...each night resulting in an after 10 bedtime when your kids normally crash about 7...

It isn't.

Unless you like dragging them out of bed for school and then later cleaning puke out of your van because, for example, you thought your daughter was just sleepy instead of sick.

I Don't Know Why...

I Torture Myself.

Every Saturday morning, I get an email from an adoption agency with their "hard to place" babies.

Every Saturday morning, I look.

Some Saturday mornings I find something that piques my interest.

For example, the baby that is due in two weeks is Female (a sister for Princess) and part Caucasian, part Hispanic, part African American (to "match" Eldest). They want an adoptive family with a racial mix to have some similarity to the child. Oh, and the adoptive family must resides where?

Here.

Why do I look?

Scented Dreams

I awakened in the middle of the night to the very strong scent of coffee. So much so I wondered if I had accidentally turned my coffee maker on before I went up to bed. Of course, the longer I lay there the less I could smell it.

This happens to me a lot. Something I have absolutely no recollection of in my dream world will awaken with me and leave me terrified, or smelling something, or furious, or frightened.

Am I alone here? Especially the smelling thing.

That's just weird, right?

Holy Spirit? Murphy's Law?

Have you ever had this experience?

I was tossing my junk mail when I came across a postcard from a heating and cooling firm with coupons. My thoughts? If I pitch this, my furnace will blow....

I pitched it.

Same morning, probably minutes later I was paying bills. I came to one where I could pay the normal amount or extra. We have the money for a little extra this month. I thought, "If I don't pay the extra, we won't need it. If I do, the furnace will blow..."

I paid it.

Not an hour after the postman picked the bill up...

Yes, it did.

Whoops!

Again blogger won't let me edit a post I just made, but in case you are interested you can visit Susan at www.susanmaywarren.com.

Reclaiming Nick

It's that time of month again when I get to talk about fun books I've read lately...as if I don't talk about that anytime I durn well please! Anyhoo...

I got to read Susan May Warren's newest book Reclaiming Nick the other day and as usual she didn't disappoint. Maybe it is just that I'm a country girl at heart, but you've got to love a cowboy.

This is sort of a modern day Western. Part romance, part mystery, part suspense, enough bad guy who isn't and good guy who isn't to keep you on your toes.

Here's the back cover copy:

Nick Noble hadn't planned on being the prodigal son. But when his father dies and leaves half the Silver Buckle--the Noble family ranch--to Nick's former best friend, he returns home to face his mistakes...and to guarantee that the ranch stays in the Noble family.

Award winning journalist Piper Sullivan believes Nick framed her brother for murder, and she's determined to find justice. But following Nick to the Silver Buckle and posing as a ranch cook proves more challenging than she thinks. So does resisting his charming smile.

As Nick seeks to overturn his father's will--and Piper digs for answers--family secrets surface that send Nick's life into a tailspin. But there's someone else who wants to take the Silver Buckle from the Noble family, and he'll stop at nothing --even murder-- to make it happen.

Jamie here: and none of that is even the best part of the book which I won't tell you about because reading is more of a pleasure when you don't know what's going to happen.

I have to say that this is one of my favorite of Susan's books so far. Grab it and give it a read. If you are anything like me, it will take all of a day of ignoring dishes, laundry, and meals to get it finished.

Hey Drew!

Just when you are seriously wondering why you exist because your IRL friends don't seem to really notice whether you are there or not, you get an email from a long lost friend who hasn't seen you since you wore your skirts too short and were not harboring an extra 40(!) pounds of baby.

Monday

So NOT surviving the chaos today.....

Teenage Boys

What is up with them anyway?

All week I have driven past 3 of them dressed in sweatshirts in 20 degree weather throwing snowballs at the street as I drive by (I'm going to pretend that they weren't aiming for my van).
Every morning.

Do they ever get tired of it?

Do they ever wonder if the same people drive past them everyday and it isn't a surprise that they are there nailing us?

And my second question: Why do they go outside in only a t-shirt? It is really that big of a deal to put on a jacket? I'm talking about a different one now. T-shirt, hands stuffed in pockets. Like it is uncool to cover the arms.

Well I suppose technically it is "uncool," it is warm. Hello!

And if they do put on a jacket (mom must have been standing vigil at the door) it is never zipped.

Ah, to be a cool teen again...

But God has chosen to give me three boys who will be teens. I'd better figure them out one of these days.

Well Knock Me Over With a Feather

I paid $1.89 a gallon for gas this morning.

I remember college when I would drive out of my way to pay 99 cents instead of $1.01, but still...considering we were at nigh $3 recently I wondered if we'd ever drop below $2 again. And lookie, it wasn't even $1.99.

How Annoying Is That?

I realized that I didn't linky to Julie's blog, Beach-Lit Writer so I went in to edit it in. Every time I try it blanks out everything I wrote but the title. Anyone have a clue?

And as of the next morning....after all that I put in a crummy link. I think we are good now.

Exasperated.

A Mixed Kinda Day

Today I am thrilled to report that I received my copy of Chocolate Beach by Julie Carobini, blogger friend and American Idol addict. I am so excited to start this book and I'll tell you all about it soon. Get a load of the cover. What woman wouldn't want to be afloat on that thong (that was for my 80s friends, for you youngun's you will recognize not underwear, but "flip-flops").

And on the down side, I got rejected today. Not even a real rejection. My proposal was solicited, I wasn't sure I wanted the project and aside from the butterflies I had while I opened the email, I am experiencing relief that I won't have to actually produce the article I offered to write. I lose sleep over the silly things. But I have to say that selling articles before they are written is a lot more fun that writing them and sending them all over tarnation trying to sell them. And probably not doing so....

Besides it is like being "accepted" about six times. I feel acceptance when I get the email that asks for my ideas. I feel more accepted when my idea is actually accepted. I feel accepted when the article I send in is finally accepted. It is super acceptance to get the fat envelope with the contract in it. And then there is the acceptance when the check shows up. And finally....THE ACCEPTANCE when I see it in print. Something I WROTE was worth printing. WOW! So it is a bummer to get the "sorry, everyone wanted to write on that topic this month." Even if it isn't really a rejection, boy there isn't all that acceptance.

Of course with all that acceptance going around, who would want to write the Great American Novel so that a whole bunch of upstarts can sit around and discuss why on earth you were ever published in the first place? One must wonder.

Cookin' My Grits

My kids have been a little....er....demanding since the flu episode. I think they got used to stating fact (I'm thirsty) and having it produce action on the part of the parents. So much for giving 'em mercy when they are sick...

So I was upstairs and I heard Hubs tell the kids "You're Cookin' My Grits, Guys." About 2 seconds later I heard him yell, "I told you that you are cookin' my grits! Chill out!"

Okay, chill out they understand. Cookin' my grits? I hardly understand it. One, they have no clue what grits are. I'm not a big fan. I'm not Southern. I don't make them. Two, if they've heard the expression it wasn't in this house.

I've been married to this man going on 11 years. We dated 3 years before that. I met him 3 years before that. I've never heard him use the expression. I've never heard his parents use the expression. I have no idea what got him started.

Did he read it somewhere? Last I checked he was reading Plato. I doubt he said it. I have no idea. Anyone read "The Never Ending Story?" He's been reading that to the kids. I suppose someone in there could have said it.

Dunno. What I do know is if you are going to use an expression on the kids, you gotta use one they know.

Speaking of, the other day I heard Eldest tell Princess, "Well, that was passive aggressive."

That's what I'm talking about. Chip off the ole block.

Ah, Kids....

This morning my children invaded my bed at about 6:45--which I welcome if they go back to sleep. It is kind of like my pre-wakening. But this morning, oh man.

Eldest is on my right, displacing Frodo who came in earlier but still wanted to sleep, Princess is on my left. I, who spent many words in thankful gratitude for my awesome kids last night after the went to dreamland, was feeling motherly and well rested so I put out my arms in order to "cuddle" both kids. (What a good mom. LOL)

Eldest noticed his head was in my armpit. NOT because it smelled, but because he opened his eyes. Then he asked how I washed them. Are you noticing the "subtle" jab? I showered last night after they went to bed. I know my pits do not stink when all I've done is sleep.

Then Princess joins in asking "what stinks?"

As if it isn't bad enough to be awakened before necessary in the morning. Be kicked and jabbed and footed and poked and breathed on with morning breath and listen to air being sucked through snotty noses just because they don't feel like blowing them. No they have to gang up and comment on my hygiene which, need I remind you, was fine because I SHOWERED LAST NIGHT!

I love them. I love snuggling with them in the morning. I believe it helps us all welcome the day a bit more gracefully. But if you are going to climb into MY BED at 6:45 in the morning, you'd better darn well not start criticizing me.

Hello? Don't like the way I smell? Go get in your own bed. Trust me, I won't be climbing in and bothering you anytime soon.

BZZZZZZZZZZ!

Just when you think you are over something....

The six year old figures out how to fake it well enough to come home from school.

And the husband comes down with whatever the kids had.

And another winter storm is heading your way.

And the tires are not $23 apiece as the tire guy told you, but $100.

Still a spoiled sub-urban American, just feeling a little disgruntled.

Thanking God that I don't yet have the flu and begging that I never will.

Spoiled Suburban American

(Deep Sigh of Relief) Life for me should soon return to "normal."

Last week I had a triple whammy. Three kids with the flu (as if I haven't whined enough about that). Ice storm. Flat tire. No matter what I was staying home. And Hubs mostly worked so I had one shot a day at the grocery store at best IF I could talk him into stopping for me IF he came home early enough to make it worth it. IF.

My cupboards have never seen so much space. My fridge has never been so empty. My deep freeze? Don't even ask. We are out of food.

Except we aren't.

I've managed to provide some meals every day that are relatively healthy. But it has been a stretch.

We are out of milk. Out of pasta. Out of fresh fruit. Out, out, out.

But yesterday it occurred to me how spoiled I really am. I was baking cookies. I had no trouble with ingredients (because I stocked up when sugar, butter, etc. was on sale before Christmas). I have a wheat mill and wheat so we had no shortage of bread or flour.

So many people in so many places live hand to mouth and I'm whining because I can't get to the store for a week.

It was a good reminder.

Thank you, God for my country and the freedom to run to a fully stocked store most anytime I want.

Oh, and I'm still pretty thankful for the ability to buy flu medicine in the middle of the night, also.

VBG

feeling off

I feel dissatisfied. Or antsy. Or irritable. Something.

Maybe it is because I've hardly left the house in a week. I don't know.

Maybe it is because I can't seem to get my behind BEHIND a story I want to write. I don't think so.

Everything I read irritates me. Especially the fiction.

Everything on TV irritates me. Especially the two hour premieres that are preempting my regularly scheduled programming (Don't get me wrong, I like a little American Idol, but two hours of those poor folk who sing like junk isn't my idea of a quality pastime.). I watch two shows a week. At least one won't be on this week. And it isn't like a book is going to grab my attention--in a good way that is.

Okay, but a book that didn't annoy me...Deb Raney's Remember to Forget is out next month. And lookie here: I got quoted. You'll have to scroll down a bit to the book bio. I always love her books. I felt cheezy setting my book in small town Kansas wondering if anyone who hasn't been here could appreciate it until I read how realistically Deb writes Kansas. Then again, I grew up here so I guess I'm not the best judge.

Anyway. A bright spot in an otherwise dreary day.

A New Fav

Children's Dimetapp Nighttime Flu Syrup.

Trust me. I got three uninterrupted hours of sleep last night. It was SOOOOO worth going out in the ice storm for this stuff. And I can't even get my ice covered van back in the garage so you know the stuff is good.

Can anyone tell me how long this illness is going to last?

Totally Cracking Up

Someone visited my blog after searching "what makes you fall asleep in the middle of doing something." One, I have no clue WHAT I was blogging about. Two, I wasn't even on Google's first two pages as a hit and I'm not curious enough to check twenty thousand pages to find out.

But in case someone really wants to know the answer.....

MOTHERHOOD.

And I think Scrubbing Bubbles Automatic Shower Cleaner should hook me up with some free stuff. You wouldn't believe the number of people who visit me when they search for that.

I knew I should never get into Googlies (Thanks Tess, Um, Liz, Um, not sure I should link because you've gone all "check your references and I'll let you know if you can have a link" on me.(my references checked out)).

In Case you are Curious

When you have three kids with the flu, by day five you are all out of compassion.

Mother Theresa types need not comment.

But you are welcome to pray for me.

Falling Ice Balls

I am so much loving the street I live on this week. Ice began falling from the sky this morning and before noon the salt truck made four passes down my street.

I don't live on a busy street. I live on a hilly street. I live on a curvy street. But my street is not a thoroughfare. My sister's street may make it all the way through a storm and well beyond without one plow or salt truck passing her home. And she lives in a "nicer" neighborhood.

Hubs thinks one of the salt truck drivers must live nearby. Whatever. I'm thankful.

The Plague

aka The Flu?

I don't really know. I've never had the flu. I hear about the flu. Nurses are always recommending that I get a flu shot. I hear about the "feel like I've been hit by a train" comparison. I don't know. I've never understood the flu.

My mom used to always call our stomach bugs "the 24 hour flu," but I'm pretty sure that isn't worth panicking over not enough vaccine for...I mean, really.

My daughter came down with something. I suppose it is the flu. It has been going around since before Christmas and we missed the first bout and I expected to miss this one. They sort of cough for about a day, but not like a bronchitis. Then fall asleep in the middle of the day, then spike a fever, then break the fever, then puke. Then nothing for hours, then fall asleep in the middle of the living room, then spike a fever again. Is this this flu?

My eldest son keeps complaining about not feeling quite right also, but he is always so suddenly better just as soon as he gets whatever treatment his sister got that I'm suspicious. She didn't go to school this morning and he therefore didn't want to go either. Of course the school called an hour later that he wasn't feeling well. I drug her out of bed, drove over to get him wondering how I had missed the symptoms so badly.

Nope, he was fine. Still is. And yet I probably won't send him to school in the morning. Might as well save myself the trip of the extra pick-up, don'tcha think?

Though my mom would never let me stay home with a little cough and headache. No fever, no staying home from school. Especially if the headache only manifests itself five minutes out of every two hours.

When a kid chatters all the way home and asks if he can have friends over...I don't care what he is coughing and how bad his "head hurts" he isn't sick.

But my friend, who is on child number two of this disease we will call the plague promises me he will be sick tomorrow and the guilt will eat me up.

We'll see. He did this all day yesterday also.

I really prefer to just have well children. I suppose a lively game of dominoes tomorrow instead of schoolwork and housework will be worth it for them all to be well Tuesday when they go back.

Maybe by then everyone else will have had the plague also and we can go back to real life.

The Best of Intentions

My dishes are stacked in the sink, but not washed.

My laundry is in the laundry room, but not washed.

I made cookies, but don't feel like putting them away.

My boys room is picked up but not vacuumed.

And a literary agency that doesn't take unsolicited queries (much less manuscripts) from unpublished writers is open to queries (this month only) from people with my initials (the odds aren't good folks) and I can't decide whether to send anything in.

I am tired. So tired. And so unmotivated. I know it all needs to be done, the question is, will I do it?

Prayer

Tonight I'm going over to pray for a friend who can't seem to kick a cancer. All she has so far is a blip on the MRI and a lump, but she's going in for further testing tomorrow. Anyone who would like to send up a prayer for Cara, I'm sure it'll be appreciated. We're praying that a blip is only a blip and nothing more.

Seriously!

How can men, who have cared nothing about certain teams (ahem, the NFC for example) spend an entire weekend watching their games?

I understood as long as the Chiefs were playing (better luck next year...). I even sort of get the AFC West teams (we even can name some of the players). But if you tell me the Jets are playing the (crud, can't even remember because there has been so much football today), and I can't bring up the city the teams are from (I know now, I asked) I don't see the point.

I asked Hubs. Not trying to pick a fight. I wasn't. I just don't understand why we all of a sudden care. He said it is because we will be watching them next week in the next round of playoffs....

And why?

Well, we want to be familiar with the teams when they get to the Superbowl.

We do? Don't we just root for the AFC? Don't we primarily watch for the commercials and the food?

Until the Chiefs make it, I won't get it.

Ugh, and I wrote and sold an article about men deserving an afternoon of football every now and then.

I just don't think they necessarily need an ENTIRE WEEKEND OF TEAMS WE DON'T GIVE A RIP ABOUT.

I have a TV noise headache.

I'm reading a really cool book though (dangerous in January considering the content):

A Bit of Sanity

Posted: November 20, 2006 1:00 a.m. Eastern By Craig R. Smith C 2006

The other day I was reading Newsweek magazine and came across some poll data I found rather hard to believe. It must be true given the source, right? The same magazine that employs Michael (Qurans in the toilets at Gitmo) Isikoff. Here I promised myself this week I would be nice and I start off in this way.

The Newsweek poll alleges that 67 percent of Americans are unhappy with the direction the country is headed and 69 percent of the country is unhappy with the performance of the president. In essence 2/3s of the citizenry just ain't happy and want a change.

So being the knuckle dragger I am, I starting thinking, ''What we are so unhappy about?''

Is it that we have electricity and running water 24 hours a day, 7 days a week? Is our unhappiness the result of having air conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter? Could it be that 95.4 percent of these unhappy folks have a job? Maybe it is the ability to walk into a grocery store at any time and see more food in moments than Darfur has seen in the last year?

Maybe it is the ability to drive from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean without having to present identification papers as we move through each state? Or possibly the hundreds of clean and safe motels we would find along the way that can provide temporary shelter? I guess having thousands of restaurants with varying cuisine from around the world is just not good enough. Or could it be that when we wreck our car, emergency workers show up and provide services to help all involved. Whether you are rich or poor they treat your wounds and even, if necessary, send a helicopter to take you to the hospital.

Perhaps you are one of the 70 percent of Americans who own a home, you may be upset with knowing that in the unfortunate case of having a fire, a group of trained firefighters will appear in moments and use top notch equipment to extinguish the flames thus saving you, your family and your belongings. Or if, while at home watching one of your many flat screen TVs, a burglar or prowler intrudes; an officer equipped with a gun and a bullet-proof vest will come to defend you and your family against attack or loss. This all in the backdrop of a neighborhood free of bombs or militias raping and pillaging the residents. Neighborhoods where 90 percent of teenagers own cell phones and computers.

How about the complete religious, social and political freedoms we enjoy that are the envy of everyone in the world? Maybe that is what has 67 percent of you folks unhappy.

Fact is, we are the largest group of ungrateful, spoiled brats the world has ever seen. No wonder the world loves the U.S. yet has a great disdain for its citizens. They see us for what we are. The most blessed people in the world who do nothing but complain about what we don't have and what we hate about the country instead of thanking the good Lord we live here.

I know, I know. What about the president who took us into war and has no plan to get us out? The president who has a measly 31 percent approval rating? Is this the same president who guided the nation in the dark days after 9/11? The president that cut taxes to bring an economy out of recession? Could this be the same guy who has been called every name in the book for succeeding in keeping all the spoiled brats safe from terrorist attacks? The commander in chief of an all-volunteer army that is out there defending you and me?

Make no mistake about it. The troops in Iraq and Afghanistan have volunteered to serve, and in many cases have died for your freedom. There is currently no draft in this country. They didn't have to go. They are able to refuse to go and end up with either a ''general'' discharge, an ''other than honorable'' discharge or, worst case scenario, a ''dishonorable'' discharge after a few days in the brig.

So why then the flat out discontentment in the minds of 69 percent of Americans? Say what you want but I blame it on the media. If it bleeds it leads and they specialize in bad news. Everybody will watch a car crash with blood and guts. How many will watch kids selling lemonade at the corner? The media knows this and media outlets are for-profit corporations. They offer what sells. Just ask why they are going to allow a murderer like O.J. Simpson to write a book and do a TV special about how he didn't kill his wife but if he did . insane!

Stop buying the negative venom you are fed everyday by the media. Shut off the TV, burn Newsweek, and use the New York Times for the bottom of your bird cage. Then start being grateful for all we have as a country. There is exponentially more good than bad.

I close with one of my favorite quotes from B.C. Forbes in 1953:
''What have Americans to be thankful for? More than any other people on the earth, we enjoy complete religious freedom, political freedom, social freedom. Our liberties are sacredly safeguarded by the Constitution of the United States, 'the most wonderful work ever struck off at a given time by the brain and purpose of man.' Yes, we Americans of today have been bequeathed a noble heritage. Let us pray that we may hand it down unsullied to our children and theirs.''

I suggest we sit back and count our blessings for all we have. If we don't, what we have will be taken away. Then we will have to explain to future generations why we squandered such blessing and abundance. If we are not careful this generation will be known as the ''greediest and most ungrateful generation.'' A far cry from the proud Americans of the ''greatest generation'' who left us an untarnished legacy.

Value of Babies

**before you read this, I now know details and they are this. Miscommunication happens. Especially when you get the story third hand. But when one guy tells the next guy that they got a weird call and the next guy says "oh I heard about that on TV this morning" so guy number one calls gets a call from his friend in the middle of trying to figure out what has to be done and tells his friend that he will call back after he takes care of calling the police....well, you get the picture. No dumpster baby. Not yesterday, anyway. But the thought is still disturbing so I thought I'd leave the post. C-J

I'm distraught this morning. A friend of ours owns a business establishment that got a "prank call" Tuesday night about a baby in a dumpster. There was a dead baby found yesterday morning.

Those details are pretty sketchy. I know that. Like, was the baby found in their dumpster or halfway across the city? What did the caller say? Do they get calls like this often? And our friend is pretty bound up in calls to the police for us to get more details yet.

My first reaction, right after the wretching that my stomach insisted upon doing, was anger at the guy who answered the phone. Was he so busy he couldn't peek into the dumpster out back and make sure it didn't hold a crying baby?

My second reaction is anger at the mother. We live in a day and time when she could drop that baby at any fire station or hospital and walk away. At the very least, a doorstep. Why a dumpster? Why are children so disregarded we put them out with the garbage? And, come on, have some originality? Does this have to happen twice a year?

Hubs says "drugs." Or that maybe the baby was already dead (and mom didn't want any questions) and checking wouldn't have saved it and we don't yet know if it was their dumpster or one across town and this is just a weird coincidence.

I'm just disturbed regardless of the answers.

You know what I was doing Tuesday? I was on the web looking at children who need a home, and hoping to provide it sooner than later. I know that I am a little wacky that way. Not everyone is like me and I'm okay with that. What I'm not okay with is that either myself or one of my sisters would have taken that baby in. And I know there are thousand of others who would have as well.

So why the dumpster?

And now resuming life...

My poor children suffer from disorganized mama syndrome. I've been on holiday so stinkin' long I'm not even sure I'm capable of parenting again. But as of today at shortly after 3 pm I officially am back on real time with real obligations.

Never mind my kids started school yesterday (no they haven't made it on time yet).

This afternoon I did dishes. You wouldn't think that would be newsworthy, but I guarantee that it is. And it was somewhat fun. You know you have been gone too long when dishes are anything but torture.

I also made bread. And I flat whipped through it. And then we ate a loaf for supper because I didn't have the time nor the inclination to cook anything else. Hopefully tomorrow.

But how bout them Chiefs?

I hear that Vegas gave them 1:161 odds of making the playoffs. How I wish I was a betting girl and had a spare grand to lay on those odds! Though I have to admit that I saw enough football and cared about enough games on Sunday that if I wasn't dedicated, boy, I'd be ticked off at Hubs. As it was I was cheering on those Steelers, 49ers and Patriots. And Chiefs, of course which is all I care about anyway.

And now I'm wondering why I logged on to blog. All those interesting topics I had to write about back in the days when blogger wouldn't let me on...wasted. Hopefully my energy level will return and with it some semblance of a personality.