I just put my very first whole chicken in the oven. I've been cooking for years but I've never made a whole chicken. This was a VERY different experience for me.
It started with this recipe. I've used it on chicken breasts and it's wonderful. Then Albertsons put their whole chickens on sale for 49 cents a pound. Frugal Kelly couldn't resist and bought three. (The limit they would sell.) Today, after the kids went down for their naps, I began the battle.
I started by mixing the spices with butter to create a rub. Then I sliced an onion to make an edible rack for my roasting pan. So far, so good.
Then, I faced the chicken.
Carefully, I opened the package and watched horrified as what seemed like 16 legs squirted out. Gingerly, I picked up the chicken and began to try to wash it inside and out. (As my mother had instructed me.) It was like trying to wash a soaped up, shaved howler monkey. I could not keep my hands on that thing! Then I peered into the depths of the...honestly, I don't know what end of the chicken I was looking into and I'm happier that way. Somehow I had to reach into that thing and dig out all of the innards. I took a deep breath, recited Philippians 4:13 and plunged my hand into the bird. I felt like a magician as I pulled out hearts, kidneys, livers, lungs, pancreases SERIOUSLY LIKE 100 ORGANS. I think I got a prank bird. I think someone at Pilgrims Pride stuffed it full of 127 other chicken organs just to giggle.
Finally, I got the durn thing clean and dry. I plopped it onto the onion rack and poured on some butter / spice mix. Then I started to rub it into the chicken. All the while I'm trying not to think about what I'm doing. After all, I'm just putting butter and spices on a chicken for dinner.
I'm just rubbing the spices into the skin so it can pick up some flavor.
I'm just MASSAGING A DEAD ANIMAL WITH MY HANDS AND NOW I'M GONNA NEED A SILKWOOD SHOWER.
It's all over now. The chicken is in the oven. I've washed my hands a hundred times. I'm really looking forward to dinner.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Getaway
Last Wednesday Gideon and I spent the night as guests of Children's Legacy. He had an ear infection, a high fever and was struggling to breathe. I was worried about it settling in his lungs and having another pneumonia stay like last year. He had a chest x-ray, an IV steroid and a few breathing treatments. They kept him overnight for observation and the next morning everyone was satisfied that the danger had passed. Gideon went through a lot that day including a Torquemada-like device to keep him in place for the x-ray, an IV with a splint to prevent him from moving his arm and getting cathed for a urine sample that made him terrified to potty for the rest of the night. I held that kid on my chest most of the night. It reminded me of nights in the NICU. Of course, now he weighed 25 pounds instead of 6.
On Friday, we realized that I was sick too. Ben stayed home and helped get Sophie to the pediatrician and me to the clinic. Sophie has a blocked ear tube and I have a sinus infection so ear drops for her and an antibiotic for me. The whole weekend has been a blur of wiping noses, naps and sitting on children's chests to force them to take their medicine.
On Saturday, Sophie had an EPIC tantrum that lasted an hour. She fought me like the devil and then passed out in my arms. She was just tired, sick and angry. She had to take it out on someone and I offered myself. Once she was done fighting and had fallen asleep, I eased myself away from her to let her sleep. She whimpered and grabbed back at me. I put my arms around her and let her sleep in my embrace for a while. It's OK to need your Mama. Lord knows, I needed to love on my baby.
Today it's raining. We're all getting better but we're still coughing. Tempers are still a little tender. The weather and sinus infection makes my head hurt so I've taken my heavy duty medicine. Mama's a little bit zombified.
Every once and a while I put my head back and daydream about a quiet beach. A big comfy chair with an umbrella, my husband beside me, a good book and a cold drink. My bare toes buried in the warm sand.
I really like that dream.
On Friday, we realized that I was sick too. Ben stayed home and helped get Sophie to the pediatrician and me to the clinic. Sophie has a blocked ear tube and I have a sinus infection so ear drops for her and an antibiotic for me. The whole weekend has been a blur of wiping noses, naps and sitting on children's chests to force them to take their medicine.
On Saturday, Sophie had an EPIC tantrum that lasted an hour. She fought me like the devil and then passed out in my arms. She was just tired, sick and angry. She had to take it out on someone and I offered myself. Once she was done fighting and had fallen asleep, I eased myself away from her to let her sleep. She whimpered and grabbed back at me. I put my arms around her and let her sleep in my embrace for a while. It's OK to need your Mama. Lord knows, I needed to love on my baby.
Today it's raining. We're all getting better but we're still coughing. Tempers are still a little tender. The weather and sinus infection makes my head hurt so I've taken my heavy duty medicine. Mama's a little bit zombified.
Every once and a while I put my head back and daydream about a quiet beach. A big comfy chair with an umbrella, my husband beside me, a good book and a cold drink. My bare toes buried in the warm sand.
I really like that dream.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Monkey Antics
Milly rolled from her belly to her back twice yesterday. She's sleeping pretty consistently through the night. She goes to bed sometime between 9:00 and 10:00 and will usually sleep until 7:00 AM. We just switched her to a thickened formula that is supposed to prevent spitting up and it has the added bonus of making her feel fuller longer. She is such a HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY baby and is always smiling. I no longer call her Murray and now call her Buddy the Elf. ("Smiling's my favorite!) She was just under 12 pounds when we went to the doctor earlier this month and is 23 inches long. She is such a chunky little thing and loves to be cuddled. She also loves to talk, talk, talk, talk, TALK, TALK, TALK, OMG WHERE IS THE OFF SWITCH ON THIS KID?! She is a delight to be around when she's not demanding to be held until she falls asleep at 2 AM. I could really do with less of that behavior.
Gideon is getting molars and they are coming in S-L-O-W-L-Y. Poor buddy just keeps drooling and gnawing on everything. It looks like we live with beavers. All of the corners on the TV cabinet are chewed and every edge on the end tables are nibbled. All of the wooden blocks look like we've run them through a dull wood chipper. He runs random fevers and cries when he hurts. He pulls at his ears and cheeks. Those big brown eyes fill with tears and look at me as if to say "Fix it, Mama!" I wish I had a way to make it all go away. All I can do is offer cold drinks, soft food and ibuprofen when it gets really bad. Then I just cuddle him to me and sing his favorite lullabye. He's also become addicted to his Daddy. I think he looked around and realized just how many girls are in this house and is now clinging to the other testosterone-riddled body that actually knows the right way to play with cars.
Sophie is flourishing at Mother's Day Out. (In my opinion.) She's getting into a routine and knows her teachers. She doesn't cry until she gets up to the door of her classroom. Instead, she gets a determined look on her little face and marches right into that church. She ignores all greetings and goes straight to her classroom and lifts her arms to her teacher. The tears bubble up a bit until the teacher reminds her that she can go color. Then she calms down and goes over to the craft table. (After a kiss goodbye to Mama.) She's still very quiet in MDO and at Sunday School. She doesn't speak around those she doesn't know. However, she's been chatty at home. She's learned her colors and likes to identify everything around her. She still throws some pretty epic tantrums but I'm trying to be patient and get to the core of what's really wrong. It's hard because she still doesn't communicate well. It's frustrating for both of us but she's more than worth it.
So that's the latest with the Dyer Monkeys. Hopefully I can figure out how to do a picture post next.
Gideon is getting molars and they are coming in S-L-O-W-L-Y. Poor buddy just keeps drooling and gnawing on everything. It looks like we live with beavers. All of the corners on the TV cabinet are chewed and every edge on the end tables are nibbled. All of the wooden blocks look like we've run them through a dull wood chipper. He runs random fevers and cries when he hurts. He pulls at his ears and cheeks. Those big brown eyes fill with tears and look at me as if to say "Fix it, Mama!" I wish I had a way to make it all go away. All I can do is offer cold drinks, soft food and ibuprofen when it gets really bad. Then I just cuddle him to me and sing his favorite lullabye. He's also become addicted to his Daddy. I think he looked around and realized just how many girls are in this house and is now clinging to the other testosterone-riddled body that actually knows the right way to play with cars.
Sophie is flourishing at Mother's Day Out. (In my opinion.) She's getting into a routine and knows her teachers. She doesn't cry until she gets up to the door of her classroom. Instead, she gets a determined look on her little face and marches right into that church. She ignores all greetings and goes straight to her classroom and lifts her arms to her teacher. The tears bubble up a bit until the teacher reminds her that she can go color. Then she calms down and goes over to the craft table. (After a kiss goodbye to Mama.) She's still very quiet in MDO and at Sunday School. She doesn't speak around those she doesn't know. However, she's been chatty at home. She's learned her colors and likes to identify everything around her. She still throws some pretty epic tantrums but I'm trying to be patient and get to the core of what's really wrong. It's hard because she still doesn't communicate well. It's frustrating for both of us but she's more than worth it.
So that's the latest with the Dyer Monkeys. Hopefully I can figure out how to do a picture post next.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Mother's Day Out
Two weeks ago, Sophie and Gideon started Mother's Day Out. They go every Wednesday and Friday from 9 to 2.
HEAVEN.
I now have days where I can make phone calls without Gideon trying to grab it from me and chatter away to the plumber. I can go to the doctor without Sophie picking up every single tongue depressor in the office while I'm getting my ears checked. I can go to the grocery store without filing the cart with kids and having only 1/4 of an inch left for actual food. I go HOURS without listening to Sesame Street songs and tantrums.
The kids are doing well, too. They really need the socialization and the time away from each other. Poor Gideon is usually at the mercy of his somewhat demanding older sister at home. If she's thirsty, she brings me both sippy cups and asks for milk or juice. Then she brings one to him, shoves it in his hands and stares at him until he drinks. At school he gets to do things his way. If he wants to play with trucks, then he plays with trucks. His teachers adore him and swoop him up every morning as soon as he gets there. He cries a little each morning but fine after a few minutes. He's loving it.
Meanwhile, Sophie is learning that she is OK if Mama is not there during the day. It's actually the first time I've seen her frightened. She's usually such a strong and determined little thing. When we pull into the parking lot, Sophie's eyes fill with tears but she doesn't make a sound. She walks beside me and goes right to her classroom. The crying gets worse as we get closer. She always turns around and lets me hug and kiss her. Still, while I know she trusts me and she knows that I'll come back, I can see that she's scared. It's very much like what I used to do when I was a kid. It's probably going to be a problem every year she goes to school. My Mama was able to teach me how to overcome my fears and I know that I can help Sophie. Her teachers describe her as "emotional". She doesn't cry all day but she's still struggling. It's going to take some time. It's a little odd to look at her and see a tiny mirror of myself.
Milly and I are having fun together. I get to spend quality time with my newborn. I was really missing that. I got that with Sophie because she was my first. When Gideon was born, Ben was at home and was able to help me get that newborn time. Now I'm able to get that with Milly.
I'm so grateful for each of my kids. Even if they do drive me nuts every now and then.
HEAVEN.
I now have days where I can make phone calls without Gideon trying to grab it from me and chatter away to the plumber. I can go to the doctor without Sophie picking up every single tongue depressor in the office while I'm getting my ears checked. I can go to the grocery store without filing the cart with kids and having only 1/4 of an inch left for actual food. I go HOURS without listening to Sesame Street songs and tantrums.
The kids are doing well, too. They really need the socialization and the time away from each other. Poor Gideon is usually at the mercy of his somewhat demanding older sister at home. If she's thirsty, she brings me both sippy cups and asks for milk or juice. Then she brings one to him, shoves it in his hands and stares at him until he drinks. At school he gets to do things his way. If he wants to play with trucks, then he plays with trucks. His teachers adore him and swoop him up every morning as soon as he gets there. He cries a little each morning but fine after a few minutes. He's loving it.
Meanwhile, Sophie is learning that she is OK if Mama is not there during the day. It's actually the first time I've seen her frightened. She's usually such a strong and determined little thing. When we pull into the parking lot, Sophie's eyes fill with tears but she doesn't make a sound. She walks beside me and goes right to her classroom. The crying gets worse as we get closer. She always turns around and lets me hug and kiss her. Still, while I know she trusts me and she knows that I'll come back, I can see that she's scared. It's very much like what I used to do when I was a kid. It's probably going to be a problem every year she goes to school. My Mama was able to teach me how to overcome my fears and I know that I can help Sophie. Her teachers describe her as "emotional". She doesn't cry all day but she's still struggling. It's going to take some time. It's a little odd to look at her and see a tiny mirror of myself.
Milly and I are having fun together. I get to spend quality time with my newborn. I was really missing that. I got that with Sophie because she was my first. When Gideon was born, Ben was at home and was able to help me get that newborn time. Now I'm able to get that with Milly.
I'm so grateful for each of my kids. Even if they do drive me nuts every now and then.
Monday, March 14, 2011
My Eldest
Sophie changed my life. Since June 25th, when those two little lines popped up on that test, I've been a different person. She came into this world with a huge amount of DRAMA. That really should have tipped me off. Here are a few Sophie stories.
SOPHIE STORY #1
Last week, Gideon was already bathed and in bed and Milly was asleep in her crib. I plunked Sophie into the tub and she started to play while I tried to wet her hair without her freaking out. (Hair washing is a big Freak Out right now.) All of the sudden, she looked up at me very seriously.
"Poop."
"Beg your pardon?"
"Poop. Yep. Poop."
She always sounds like Rainman. Sure enough, there was a floater in the tub. I hauled her out and stood her on a towel while I drained and cleaned the tub. She wrapped her arms around her and shivered while she watched.
"Sowwy!"
"It's OK, baby! You just had to go poop. We're just going to clean the tub and let you get back in."
"IS COLD!"
"I know. It's just going to take a little bit."
*peer into the tub* "Poop."
"I know, baby."
"SOWWY!"
*REPEAT 8,245 TIMES UNTIL I GET HER BACK IN THE TUB*
This is the most meaningful conversation I've had with my daughter. She pooped in the tub, she was sorry and now she was cold. Over and over until we were both giggling. I've never had so much fun in my life.
SOPHIE STORY #2
This is from Ben. He just remembered to tell me about it tonight and we both laughed until we cried. Sophie is still in her crib. We're waiting until we move to get her a big girl bed. On Sunday morning he went to get her out of bed and realized that she had gotten a hold of the box of Milly's clothes next to her crib. Sophie is also learning how to put her own clothes on and decided to give it a shot. She decided to try on her infant sister's sweater.
As pants.
That's Mommy's little genius.
SOPHIE STORY #3
Sophie has basically given up her nap but sometimes will still need to just lie down for some quiet time. She does better if I let her back in my bed and I lie down next to her. We laid down today and she snuggled down into her daddy's pillows. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep thinking it might make her be quiet and stop twirling her doll around her head. (Not so much.) Finally I just let her lie there and be quiet even if she wouldn't sleep. I turned over and the sheet fell down my arm. Before I could reach it, Sophie reached over and pulled it up to my chin. A few minutes later, I turned again and the sheet fell again. Sophie pulled it up, patted my shoulder and said "Night-night, Mama." My heart nearly burst with love for my little girl. She may be strong willed and very silly but she is so tender hearted. That combination is going to be dynamite in God's hands.
And I have a front row seat.
SOPHIE STORY #1
Last week, Gideon was already bathed and in bed and Milly was asleep in her crib. I plunked Sophie into the tub and she started to play while I tried to wet her hair without her freaking out. (Hair washing is a big Freak Out right now.) All of the sudden, she looked up at me very seriously.
"Poop."
"Beg your pardon?"
"Poop. Yep. Poop."
She always sounds like Rainman. Sure enough, there was a floater in the tub. I hauled her out and stood her on a towel while I drained and cleaned the tub. She wrapped her arms around her and shivered while she watched.
"Sowwy!"
"It's OK, baby! You just had to go poop. We're just going to clean the tub and let you get back in."
"IS COLD!"
"I know. It's just going to take a little bit."
*peer into the tub* "Poop."
"I know, baby."
"SOWWY!"
*REPEAT 8,245 TIMES UNTIL I GET HER BACK IN THE TUB*
This is the most meaningful conversation I've had with my daughter. She pooped in the tub, she was sorry and now she was cold. Over and over until we were both giggling. I've never had so much fun in my life.
SOPHIE STORY #2
This is from Ben. He just remembered to tell me about it tonight and we both laughed until we cried. Sophie is still in her crib. We're waiting until we move to get her a big girl bed. On Sunday morning he went to get her out of bed and realized that she had gotten a hold of the box of Milly's clothes next to her crib. Sophie is also learning how to put her own clothes on and decided to give it a shot. She decided to try on her infant sister's sweater.
As pants.
That's Mommy's little genius.
SOPHIE STORY #3
Sophie has basically given up her nap but sometimes will still need to just lie down for some quiet time. She does better if I let her back in my bed and I lie down next to her. We laid down today and she snuggled down into her daddy's pillows. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep thinking it might make her be quiet and stop twirling her doll around her head. (Not so much.) Finally I just let her lie there and be quiet even if she wouldn't sleep. I turned over and the sheet fell down my arm. Before I could reach it, Sophie reached over and pulled it up to my chin. A few minutes later, I turned again and the sheet fell again. Sophie pulled it up, patted my shoulder and said "Night-night, Mama." My heart nearly burst with love for my little girl. She may be strong willed and very silly but she is so tender hearted. That combination is going to be dynamite in God's hands.
And I have a front row seat.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Missions
Me: "Lord, there's a lot of talk at church about missions. I don't feel like I get to participate much."
God: "Oh? I've given you a specific mission. What do you mean?"
Me: "What do I mean? What do You mean? I haven't felt any tugs to go to China or Jordan or the wilds of Borneo. What am I doing to bring Your word to those that are lost? Don't you want to use me?"
God: "Honey, get up and go back to Sophie's room."
Me: "Um...OK."
*Cue me walking back to see a wild-haired Sophie chasing after her brother squealing at the top of their lungs both of them waving harmless looking toys they have learned to weaponize.*
God: "Here is your mission field."
Me: "I guess it is similar to the wilds of Borneo."
God: "Now pick up that Noah book and give it a shot."
Me: "Hey guys! Want to hear about Noah?"
Natives: *stop dead in their tracks and drop toys* "No-No? Too-ba-too? OHKAY!"
Then we read about Noah 5 times in a row.
God: "Oh? I've given you a specific mission. What do you mean?"
Me: "What do I mean? What do You mean? I haven't felt any tugs to go to China or Jordan or the wilds of Borneo. What am I doing to bring Your word to those that are lost? Don't you want to use me?"
God: "Honey, get up and go back to Sophie's room."
Me: "Um...OK."
*Cue me walking back to see a wild-haired Sophie chasing after her brother squealing at the top of their lungs both of them waving harmless looking toys they have learned to weaponize.*
God: "Here is your mission field."
Me: "I guess it is similar to the wilds of Borneo."
God: "Now pick up that Noah book and give it a shot."
Me: "Hey guys! Want to hear about Noah?"
Natives: *stop dead in their tracks and drop toys* "No-No? Too-ba-too? OHKAY!"
Then we read about Noah 5 times in a row.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Getting Back to my Roots
I honestly have never known if I could call myself a geek. Maybe a dork. I'm just slightly awkward and I tend to gravitate towards scifi/fantasy movies, TV and books. That being said, here's what I'm enjoying now.
I've watched the first three seasons on Netflix and I'm ready for the fourth. I totally love the idea of living in a town full of geniuses.
I am SALIVATING over this movie.
This was my Valentine's present from Ben. It's out of stock right now and I'm glad he nabbed it when he did. I've been wanting something just like this for quite some time.
I've watched the first three seasons on Netflix and I'm ready for the fourth. I totally love the idea of living in a town full of geniuses.
I am SALIVATING over this movie.
This was my Valentine's present from Ben. It's out of stock right now and I'm glad he nabbed it when he did. I've been wanting something just like this for quite some time.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
When You Feel satan Winning
Shout out to Jon Acuff by giving satan the middle finger with the lowercase s.
This morning started out so great. Milly let me sleep a little more than 5 hours. That's Rip Van Winkle sleep when you have a newborn. She got up at 6:30 to eat and was finished with everything by 7:00. I took her back to our room and let her wake Daddy up by being adorable right in his face. Mentally, I was fist pumping. We had time to both take showers, get everyone up, fed and dressed and still get to church without a huge hurry. Daddy got in the shower and I laid down with Milly to wait my turn.
I was just going to rest my eyes.
At 8:30, I woke up and began the mad dash. We left the house at 9:30. The kids ate cereal bars in their carseats and Milly wasn't wearing any of the cute little headbands I bought yesterday. I didn't shower. I really wanted that shower. We threw the kids into the nursery and crept into our Life Group. For the rest of the morning, I felt like satan and I just headbutted.
I'm still in a foul mood but I feel God nudging me. Unfortunately, I'm reacting like Sophie does when she's in a bad mood. I'm ignoring Him. When He does get an arm around me then I yell, throw it off of me and tell Him to go away. I don't want to be comforted. I don't want to learn anything. I don't want to work. I don't want to be loved.
Can you guys pray that He doesn't let up? Please?
This morning started out so great. Milly let me sleep a little more than 5 hours. That's Rip Van Winkle sleep when you have a newborn. She got up at 6:30 to eat and was finished with everything by 7:00. I took her back to our room and let her wake Daddy up by being adorable right in his face. Mentally, I was fist pumping. We had time to both take showers, get everyone up, fed and dressed and still get to church without a huge hurry. Daddy got in the shower and I laid down with Milly to wait my turn.
I was just going to rest my eyes.
At 8:30, I woke up and began the mad dash. We left the house at 9:30. The kids ate cereal bars in their carseats and Milly wasn't wearing any of the cute little headbands I bought yesterday. I didn't shower. I really wanted that shower. We threw the kids into the nursery and crept into our Life Group. For the rest of the morning, I felt like satan and I just headbutted.
I'm still in a foul mood but I feel God nudging me. Unfortunately, I'm reacting like Sophie does when she's in a bad mood. I'm ignoring Him. When He does get an arm around me then I yell, throw it off of me and tell Him to go away. I don't want to be comforted. I don't want to learn anything. I don't want to work. I don't want to be loved.
Can you guys pray that He doesn't let up? Please?
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sin is a Cancer
Steve Stroope is an amazing pastor. Every time I walk out of church I am bursting with new ideas and thoughts to wrestle with over the week. Yesterday he began a new series called " Community with God". During the sermon he made what seemed like a simple statement but it stayed with me. He was talking about how much God hates sin. He said that God hates sin the way a parent of a child with cancer hates the cancer.
This struck a chord with me because of my sister. My little sister has a life-threatening disease that affects her liver. She was diagnosed in 7th grade and has already had a liver transplant. The transplant is not a cure but really just a kind of mega-patch. The disease is still there. She takes some serious medicine to keep herself well. Before the transplant, the pills were even worse. At her worst, she lived with our parents. Every morning and night my mother would go to her with a handful of pills. These were pills that my mother knew would make her baby girl throw up, tremble, make her bones brittle, make her hair fall out, gain weight and just do awful things to her body. They would also keep her baby girl alive.
The treatment may be terrible but the disease will kill you.
God is the same way when it comes to sin in our lives. I've asked God before why He's putting me through certain trials because they hurt so badly. He's God! He could take this away! Can't he see how this is affecting me?! However, God doesn't just throw those pills at me and say DEAL WITH IT. He wraps His arms around me and tells me that it's for my own good. He cries with me when I hurt. He comforts me and tells me to hang on just a little longer. This is going to be worth it.
I watched my mother tuck quilts around my shivering sister. I watched my mother spoon broth into her mouth when her hands trembled too much to hold a spoon. I watched her sit next to hundreds of hospital beds for endless hours waiting on doctors and tests. I look back now and I can see my mother glorifying and personifying God with her actions.
Now I'm the mother holding my children down while nurses stab them in the legs with viruses. Then I get them up, wipe away their tears and tell them that I do this because I love them. I do this for their own good. Then I pray to God that He keeps giving me my pills and shots. But please keep wiping away my tears, too.
This struck a chord with me because of my sister. My little sister has a life-threatening disease that affects her liver. She was diagnosed in 7th grade and has already had a liver transplant. The transplant is not a cure but really just a kind of mega-patch. The disease is still there. She takes some serious medicine to keep herself well. Before the transplant, the pills were even worse. At her worst, she lived with our parents. Every morning and night my mother would go to her with a handful of pills. These were pills that my mother knew would make her baby girl throw up, tremble, make her bones brittle, make her hair fall out, gain weight and just do awful things to her body. They would also keep her baby girl alive.
The treatment may be terrible but the disease will kill you.
God is the same way when it comes to sin in our lives. I've asked God before why He's putting me through certain trials because they hurt so badly. He's God! He could take this away! Can't he see how this is affecting me?! However, God doesn't just throw those pills at me and say DEAL WITH IT. He wraps His arms around me and tells me that it's for my own good. He cries with me when I hurt. He comforts me and tells me to hang on just a little longer. This is going to be worth it.
I watched my mother tuck quilts around my shivering sister. I watched my mother spoon broth into her mouth when her hands trembled too much to hold a spoon. I watched her sit next to hundreds of hospital beds for endless hours waiting on doctors and tests. I look back now and I can see my mother glorifying and personifying God with her actions.
Now I'm the mother holding my children down while nurses stab them in the legs with viruses. Then I get them up, wipe away their tears and tell them that I do this because I love them. I do this for their own good. Then I pray to God that He keeps giving me my pills and shots. But please keep wiping away my tears, too.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Time Out
Tuesday sent me and the girls to the doctor's office for a check-up (Milly) and a few shots (Sophie). Everyone looks good. More on all that later. My mother came over to lend me her car and watch Gideon so I just had to wrangle two children. Before she came over, I got an email from my landlord.
Here's a little background on my landlord. She lives in another country. We deal mostly through email. This is a VERY old house and it hasn't been taken care of at ALL. We've had all sorts of things break over the last 2 years. The latest was the heater last week during Dallas' ice storm. The ducts looked like they had never been cleaned since installation. Usually the landlord just tells us to take any fees out of the rent and just send her the rest of the money. We're supposed to deposit the rent check into her bank. Well...Dallas ice storm...banks have been closed. She refuses to take our money directly. I've asked, begged, pleaded and negotiated to send her a check so she'll stop freaking out every time that money is not in her account by the 1st of the month. I have no control over what the bank does! I could go on but that gives you the gist.
Anyway, I got another email from her threatening eviction if she didn't get her rent check. I emailed her back and told her that we had to pay the heater guy and that the rent check was going to be deposited. I emailed Ben and we ranted a bit about how much trouble we've had with her and with the house. We are so ready to move. We are planning to move by June 1st. While driving I gleefully thought about how she would never be able to rent such a cruddy little house and how she would be so sorry to see us go. Then God started nudging me.
"So, Kelly, you're feeling pretty good about yourself?"
"God, she's just being so unreasonable! Half of the outlets don't even work in that house and we've never complained because we knew there was nothing she could do. We were just thankful to have a roof over our family's head. But to treat us like that every month? We never pay the rent bill late!"
"I know. I'm proud that you're paying your bills on time. That's a hard lesson to learn."
"It is! I mean...I know we still have a long way to go and we're still learning how to truly be good stewards of our money but we're tithing and paying our major bills on time. I mean, that EMAIL! Did you see the email?!"
"The email? Goodness, I had no idea! For you see, I have been on Mars for the last decade, in a cave, with my eyes shut and my fingers in my ears."
"Touche, God"
"Kelly Bear, watch the road but listen to Me. I love you so much. I always love you. I even love you when you fall. Sweetheart, you still fall a lot. You're falling right now."
"What do you mean? I'm in the right! I'm paying the bills! I'm doing it all right!"
"Kelly, how many times have I said to love those that don't love you back? Those that treat you badly? Even those that hurt you?"
"...a lot."
"Are you doing that? Are you loving your landlord the way I love your landlord? She is my child, too."
"No, sir."
(By this time I am in tears. I'm also in God's lap with His arms around me. This correction is always done gently which is good because it is done often.)
"Is it time to forgive your landlord?"
"I can't do that on my own. Can you help?"
"Of course."
And that's how I forgave my landlord driving to the doctor. And again this morning.
Here's a little background on my landlord. She lives in another country. We deal mostly through email. This is a VERY old house and it hasn't been taken care of at ALL. We've had all sorts of things break over the last 2 years. The latest was the heater last week during Dallas' ice storm. The ducts looked like they had never been cleaned since installation. Usually the landlord just tells us to take any fees out of the rent and just send her the rest of the money. We're supposed to deposit the rent check into her bank. Well...Dallas ice storm...banks have been closed. She refuses to take our money directly. I've asked, begged, pleaded and negotiated to send her a check so she'll stop freaking out every time that money is not in her account by the 1st of the month. I have no control over what the bank does! I could go on but that gives you the gist.
Anyway, I got another email from her threatening eviction if she didn't get her rent check. I emailed her back and told her that we had to pay the heater guy and that the rent check was going to be deposited. I emailed Ben and we ranted a bit about how much trouble we've had with her and with the house. We are so ready to move. We are planning to move by June 1st. While driving I gleefully thought about how she would never be able to rent such a cruddy little house and how she would be so sorry to see us go. Then God started nudging me.
"So, Kelly, you're feeling pretty good about yourself?"
"God, she's just being so unreasonable! Half of the outlets don't even work in that house and we've never complained because we knew there was nothing she could do. We were just thankful to have a roof over our family's head. But to treat us like that every month? We never pay the rent bill late!"
"I know. I'm proud that you're paying your bills on time. That's a hard lesson to learn."
"It is! I mean...I know we still have a long way to go and we're still learning how to truly be good stewards of our money but we're tithing and paying our major bills on time. I mean, that EMAIL! Did you see the email?!"
"The email? Goodness, I had no idea! For you see, I have been on Mars for the last decade, in a cave, with my eyes shut and my fingers in my ears."
"Touche, God"
"Kelly Bear, watch the road but listen to Me. I love you so much. I always love you. I even love you when you fall. Sweetheart, you still fall a lot. You're falling right now."
"What do you mean? I'm in the right! I'm paying the bills! I'm doing it all right!"
"Kelly, how many times have I said to love those that don't love you back? Those that treat you badly? Even those that hurt you?"
"...a lot."
"Are you doing that? Are you loving your landlord the way I love your landlord? She is my child, too."
"No, sir."
(By this time I am in tears. I'm also in God's lap with His arms around me. This correction is always done gently which is good because it is done often.)
"Is it time to forgive your landlord?"
"I can't do that on my own. Can you help?"
"Of course."
And that's how I forgave my landlord driving to the doctor. And again this morning.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Sports
While watching the Super Bowl last night, Sophie and Gideon were running around like maniacs. Sophie blew past Gideon without touching him and Gideon just tumbled to the ground spectacularly.
Me: "Honey, I think we can cross pee-wee football off of the list of sports Gideon is going to play."
Ben: *wearily* "I think there are a lot of sports we can cross off of that list."
Me: "Honey, I think we can cross pee-wee football off of the list of sports Gideon is going to play."
Ben: *wearily* "I think there are a lot of sports we can cross off of that list."
Choices
Everytime I prop up a bottle to feed my baby instead of holding it myself I feel guilty.
Then today I thought "You know, if I was breastfeeding, I wouldn't be obsessively holding my boob to her face."
I feel better now.
Then today I thought "You know, if I was breastfeeding, I wouldn't be obsessively holding my boob to her face."
I feel better now.
First Day Back
This is really the first day the kids and I have had alone since...Christmas break? The last few months have been a whirlwind of broken schedules and water heaters. We've gotten a new car and a new baby. Bedtimes and naptimes are whenever we unearth a bed and make sure someone hasn't peed on it. There have been so many doctor appointments and emergency visits that I really should have my own parking spot with a glitter banner and litter carriers waiting there with Starbucks. (We actually have another doctor appointment tomorrow!) We've had to scramble to spend days at my mother's, my grandmother's and my sister's because something went wrong again. Sometimes it was the whole family and sometimes it was one or more of the kids. I've had to call my husband home from work more times than I like. (Which is "zero" by the way.)
If there is one thing in my life that is constant, it is that I don't like to be a burden to those around me. I feel guilty if I have to ask for help with my kids and I feel even guiltier if I have to ask for help for myself. Basically, I can ask from God. He's the most powerful being in the universe. Heck, He created the universe. I don't feel bad asking Him for help. Plus He tells me over and over in the Bible to ask for help.
Unfortunately, He also has this hang-up about "humility" and keeps insisting on using people in my life to help me causing me to swallow what I thought was "consideration for others" but is actually "pride". It seems He also has a thing about "pride" as well.
We're easing into it today. The kids are watching Sesame and Movers while eating Cheerios and bananas. The baby has had two bottles and two diapers. Gideon has already found his talking Elmo doll and Sophie is singing the birthday song at the top of her tone deaf / Japanese exchange student accented voice. I've done 2 loads of laundry and 2 loads of dishes and I'm about to start making schedules that I'm sure I'll write "BE FLEXIBLE" across the top in an attempt to remind myself that kids rarely stick to mother's schedules.
If there is one thing in my life that is constant, it is that I don't like to be a burden to those around me. I feel guilty if I have to ask for help with my kids and I feel even guiltier if I have to ask for help for myself. Basically, I can ask from God. He's the most powerful being in the universe. Heck, He created the universe. I don't feel bad asking Him for help. Plus He tells me over and over in the Bible to ask for help.
Unfortunately, He also has this hang-up about "humility" and keeps insisting on using people in my life to help me causing me to swallow what I thought was "consideration for others" but is actually "pride". It seems He also has a thing about "pride" as well.
We're easing into it today. The kids are watching Sesame and Movers while eating Cheerios and bananas. The baby has had two bottles and two diapers. Gideon has already found his talking Elmo doll and Sophie is singing the birthday song at the top of her tone deaf / Japanese exchange student accented voice. I've done 2 loads of laundry and 2 loads of dishes and I'm about to start making schedules that I'm sure I'll write "BE FLEXIBLE" across the top in an attempt to remind myself that kids rarely stick to mother's schedules.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Milly's Tale
So! Milly had a good time messing with us. Around midnight on the 2nd, she sent me to the hospital with contractions and dehydration. I was dialated to a three but the nurses got the contractions stopped. I was sent home with terbutaline and instructions to drink more water than 4 camels with cotton mouth. A week later, she did it again. This time it was around midnight (always in the middle of the night) the night before my baby shower. I stayed in the hospital for 2 days waiting to see if she would come. The doctor didn't want to give her any help because I was just shy of 36 weeks. So after two agonizing days of "will-she or won't-she" we went home with instructions to continue the terbutaline and some pain meds.
Fast forward another week. I'm 37 weeks and I'm tired. Milly has dropped into my pelvic bone and is REALLY heavy. She's laying all on the right side of my body and it's making my right foot/ankle swell up. (Just the right leg. SO ANNOYING.) I'm still having sporadic contractions that bring me to tears but never get consistent enough to be called Real Labor. The terbutaline makes me tremble and shake.
This kid better be seriously cute.
On Tuesday the 18th, I have a bad day. I'm tired and I just feel like laying around. I want everyone to go away. I put the kids down for their nap at 12:00 and climb into the tub to try to relax. I begin to pray, asking God for guidance and strength. The prayer turns to sobbing as I cry out to the Lord. I no longer know what I want or what I need. I then remember Matthew 6:8.
"The Father knows what you need before you ask."
Trusting in this, I simply cry and let my Heavenly Father comfort me. Peace rushes over me in waves. I am able to calm down. God brings other people to the front of my mind and I am able to really pray over them. I get out of the tub refreshed and peaceful about the whole situation. God will bring Milly when it's time. He'll take care of everything. That night, I went to what I thought was my Ladies Bible Study. Instead, they surprised me with a baby shower! I had a wonderful evening of fellowship and laughter that just made me feel even better. I came home with a full heart. I shared my day with Ben who laughed and cuddled me. We fell asleep easily that night.
Around 1:45, I got up for one of my nightly trips to the bathroom when I felt something familiar. My foot hit the tile and GUSH. (Ref: http://www.kittencrush.com/?p=189 ) Luckily, Ben was only half asleep and got up pretty quick. We grinned at the similarities between Milly and Sophie and called the necessary people. Once at the hospital, I got hooked up to the monitors and settled in to labor. It was nice not to be hooked up to a million things to make the labor stop but to have everyone encouraging me to keep going. We ended up watching Star Trek TNG and breathing through contractions. Finally I got uncomfortable enough to ask for the epidural. The doctor also wanted to hook me up to some Pitocin to make my contractions a little more effective at dialating me. (I was still just at a three.) Since Milly is my third child and I was being encouraged by medicine I really thought it would go faster than the last time. Alas, no.
After hours and HOURS of increasing pressure and then pain that even slipped past the epidural, I was exhausted. Ben held me when I cried, he fetched about 938 cups of ice, updated family and friends, rubbed my half numb feet, reminded me to breathe and reassured me that this would end. Good Lord, I love that man! The epidural was working but kept settling into whatever side I was laying on. I kept having to call the nurse to turn me like a hot dog.
Finally, FINALLY, we arrived at full dialation and my doctor said it was time. With a nurse on one side and Ben on the other, I concentrated all of my might and Millicent Mei Dyer came into the world at 2:41 PM. She gurgled and gasped a bit too much so they whisked her to the warmer to get the gunk out of her mouth. After she was clean, they wrapped her and brought her to me. Gazing down at that little mummy-burrito baby with giant alert eyes, I again felt tears coming again. This time it wasn't because of pain, fatigue, anxiety or anger. These were tears of love and gratitude. I thanked my Heavenly Father for giving me such an amazing gift in His perfect timing. I thanked Him for reminding me the day before that He was always in charge and that He would never put me down. I thanked Him for answering the hundreds of prayers from the last nine months and giving us a healthy full term baby.
I thanked Him for Milly.
You're Doing it Wrong
Sophie's tantrums are getting scary and I think I'm handling them wrong.
First I tried putting her in her empty crib for Time Out. Once the screams died down, I would go in there and have a one sided conversation about why she shouldn't scream/throw things/hit people/cause destruction/etc. This didn't seem to do anything and she would usually get angry about 3 seconds after getting out of the crib. So then I started holding her and letting her fight against me. She screams and struggles until she gets it out of her system. When she starts to calm down, I ask her if she wants her baby. She gets her baby when she stops yelling. Once she stops yelling and has her baby in her arms, I talk to her about why she can't tell/hit/throw/destroy/etc. This seems to work a little better. She wouldn't be angry afterwards.
However, twice in the last few weeks there have been actual meltdowns where I had to restrain her from hitting me and herself. It really scares me. I've already been arguing with myself for over a year about autism. (Why doesn't she talk? Why doesn't she cuddle? Why does she get so FREAKING ANGRY?) Aren't meltdowns a part of all of that?
It doesn't help that everyone else's kids seem to be freaking geniuses. They're all speaking in complete sentences by 4 months old and giving guest lectures on quantum physics by 2 years old. They not only eat with silverware but have perfect manners. Some have eschewed potty training and just reabsorb everything back into their bodies. It's more green, you know. Meanwhile, my 3 year old is dangling from my arms, diaper soaking through her pants and onto my shirt, screaming nonsense at the top of her lungs because I handed her a blue crayon.
I know it's my fault. She was early. Maybe I did something. Maybe I'm doing something now. Maybe I'm not doing something now. Maybe I didn't get the First Kid Handbook that everyone else seems to have. I'm taking this beautiful little blue-grey eyed girl from God and just ruining her.
Maybe I should mention this to my psychiatrist. It might be time for better meds.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Motherhood
Being a SAHM is one of the most isolating jobs on the planet. Alright, there's probably some sonar technician in the Arctic that might argue with me.
Look, my life revolves around my family. I'm in charge of finances, doctor appointments, laundry, cleaning, cooking, etc. I make sure that every day my family has clean clothes and food on the table. I make sure that everyone is going to the doctor to get their shots. I'm the one who knows exactly when each of my children last pooped and I can usually estimate when the next load will drop. I research recipes, track down deals, go shopping, cook the food, serve the food and clean the dishes. I'm the one that notices when shoes get too small and I'm the one who replaces them.
Since we have just one car that my husband takes to work 6 days a week, I am left at home with three kids under three. Alone. 6 days a week for at least 5-12 hours a day. Since my husband works outside of the home, I am the one that gets up with the infant during the night. I have with every child. The first few weeks are excruciating and it's getting worse with each kid. I have no time to nap during the day so my sleep bank is always in the red. I have no way of taking them to a park to run off energy and I have no way of getting to play dates. We are hermetically sealed in this house for days at a time, emerging on Sundays for church.
My world has become very small. I don't know a lot about current events. I don't get to discuss the latest TV shows with coworkers. I don't get together with girlfriends to shop and lunch. Every other Tuesday I do attend a women's Bible study and I am grateful for this small break. However, I feel dull. Uninteresting. The biggest project I've been working on is a cookbook binder for all of my most used recipes. Yep. That's going to catch my husband's attention!
I dream of going back to school. I yearn for history classes and math tests. I want to take geography classes and Bible classes at the same time to better get an understanding of where big Biblical events took place. I want to come home and have my husband eagerly ask me what I did today and get to tell him about all of the fascinating things I'm learning.
Instead, I'll stay up with the infant tonight. I'll get the two older kids up tomorrow morning, make breakfast and turn on Play With Me Sesame. I'll ask the husband about how the projects at work are turning out. I'll do a few loads of laundry and make dinner. If I'm lucky then I'll shower.
I'll be a mom.
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