When Love Takes You In

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Dedicated to the amazing people in my life who have made the amazing choice to open their hearts to a child who needed a "forever home".

Denna and Kevin
Tammy and Greg
Leesa and Steve

I know I'm not the only one who considers you Heros.....

(Steven Curtis Chapman is one of my all-time favorite writer/musicians. He wrote the song, "My Redeemer (is Faithful and True)", and he and his wife have adopted a little girl from overseas as well.)

Thy Cuteness Doth Overwhelm Me

Oh I am in SUCH big trouble!

Every single puppy is fat, rolly polly, and without-a-doubt scoring high marks on the "cuteness scale". How did this happen? Is it just because they're puppies? Will they get uglier as time goes on?

Something's gotta give, because there is just WAY too much cuteness living on my back porch. How do I part with THAT??

Especially this one........ohhhhhhh, I could kiss him! (no, I didn't....yet) He is officially "mine" unless he becomes an ugly duckling any time soon. He's the only one with peach colored paw pads (on his hind feet only--adorable!), and he's by far the biggest, whitest, rolly-polliest. He was fussin' as I held him, but a good scratch behind the ears and he melted.

Gotta love a dog who can appreciate a good scratch behind the ears.

***

We're leaving tomorrow (Lord willin') for a family reunion in West Virginia. Hopefully, by the time we get back the following week, the newest members of our dog population will have their eyes open and will be walking around a bit.

You better believe that I will be watching closely.

Because if any of them (even "fat boy") get even the teensiest bit ugly, we're shippin' them outta here! BwaHahahahaha!





......ok.........maybe.

Eavesdropping

"Hi Daddy!"

(pause)

"When are you coming home?"


(long pause)


"What?"

(pause)

"Huh?"


(long pause)


"I made something pretty for you!"

(pause)

"You need to come see it."

(pause)

"What are you doing?"

(pause)

"Working?"

(pause)

"What?"


(long pause)


"You need to come home and see the pretty something I made for you."


(long pause)


"Ok."


(This conversation was real, yet imaginary, as her Daddy couldn't hear her from her play phone. You would've never known it from her tone and pauses! Even her 'pretty something' was conveniently located directly in front of the door--just so he wouldn't miss it. Something tells me SOMEONE loves their Daddy!)

Gadgets For Girls

I am SO excited about doing laundry today!

I just can't wait to fill the dishwasher!

OH! And I really wish y'all would stop emailing me---I want to go mop the floor!



Seriously!

***

Comon, haven't any of YOU ever had that euphoria that accompanies the recent purchase of a new product? A new little piece of modernization? The "New and Improved" version of something?

For guys, it seems to be the latest techno-advances: XBox, iPod, powertool of some sort. But for the housewife, that illustrious "Queen of The Castle", pure bliss CAN come in a bottle.

A bottle of Triple Action Electrosol with Jet-Dry, that is. (What? Did you think I was thinking of something else?)

Oooooooohhhhh.....I cannot WAIT to see my glasses after using THIS stuff!

I'm dead serious! It's very exciting!

Because there's nothing that irritates more than knowing that you've washed those glasses, and yet your visitors would never know by the plethora of spots displayed on them. That's downright embarrassing. That induces apologies and mortification.

I refuse to apologize ANY MORE!

My peace and sense of refinement are worth the $2 more added to my grocery bill every month.

And I dare say that domestic satisfaction in the form of "Tide with A Touch of Downy" is a WHOLE LOT cheaper than ANY power tool Chris decides to bring home.

***

You know, there comes a point where frugality must be put in it's place. What's the point in saving $5 a month in laundry detergent, when you'll just have to wash those clothes a second time in order to get them clean? OK, it's not like I have to rewash every load, but the kids get their stuff pretty dirty sometimes. They could USE a good double scrubbing with the stuff I used to use. And it's not that the stuff was that bad, it's just that it wasn't good enough.

Maybe I'm just picky.

But take into account the floors. Why in the world would I be satisfied with floors that look dingy AFTER I've mopped them? Hello? Like I don't have anything better to do than mop all day long?

And I don't particularly care for baby wipes that break apart when I'm changing a dirty diaper, no matter how much I saved on them.

No thank you!

The same goes for paper towels, shampoo, and garbage bags (even Chris is picky about those!). Do I like spending an extra 50 cents on conditioner? Not exactly. My grocery bill is not exactly what you'd call "a minor household expense". Yet, I am starting to see the reasoning behind quality products. This is not to say that some generic brands aren't worthwhile--they are.

I mean, do you really think that Walmart has it's own lightbulb factory?

And no, they don't have their own dairy farms either.

Which means that the generic brands are nothing more than a different sticker.

Yes! And price sticker too!

But last I knew, Walmart doesn't have their own clothes detergent. And if they do, I highly doubt it's made by Proctor and Gamble.

***

So, needless to say ladies, men aren't the only ones who have the corner of the techno market. I dare say that I've become pretty techno-logical myself.

Except my type of gadgetry keep the men clean.

Theirs....

Well, theirs just make a lot of noise

2 Bee or Not 2 Bee?

Or maybe 1 wasp?

Perhaps 3 horse flies?

Well, no matter what did it, something(s) got Noah GOOD. He came in the house last Thursday night holding the side of his face, trying not to cry too loud. But he was crying. Said he got bit by something, and that it scared him.

Once he let his face go, we could see that there was a spot where he got nabbed, across from his nose on his right cheek. It was red, but nothing more, and we told him we'd put something on it after he got out of the shower.

After the shower, he never complained again. We didn't either, and the cheek was all-but-forgotten.

Until the next morning.

***

Whoa! Buddy! Your face!

This picture is AFTER I gave him some Benedryl! When I first saw him that morning, his eye was comlpetely swollen shut, his cheek double it's normal size. The interesting thing about it, is that if he turned in one direction, he looked normal and you wouldn't know anything's wrong. The other direction, and he looked like Michaela on steroids!

***

It got better little by little through the day. He never had any symptoms of anaphlactic shock like when his Daddy gets stung. Just that swelling. So that was good. I think it was the first time any of my kids have gotten stung by an insect, and I was a little worried that Chris had passed on his bad allergy genes.

I'm happy to say that Noah, at least, does NOT react like his Father.

That's probably the ONLY gene he didn't get from his Dad!

(OH! And he got his nose from me too! THAT was a relief!)

Correction

No, No, Wait, there are......1, 2, 3, 4.......

.....9 puppies.....

And we lost 3,

And one is very runt-ish,

So we may end up with 8 in the end, but as of now, we have 9.


But she HAD a dozen.

Yikes!
(And, yes, the cuteness factor is starting to wear on me. Especially the big fat white ones. And who doesn't want to root for the runt?)

The Sum of Farm Life

1 Un-Spayed Dog + Every Mutt on the Street = 8 Puppies

8 puppies!!


Ohhhhh, my head is starting to hurt.


I don't NEED 10 dogs running around on my property! I know, I know, "Why didn't you have her fixed then?" Because we wanted to breed her----with another Lab, of course. NOT every Tom, Dick, and Hairy Dog this side of the county line! But she went into heat before we knew what to do (We are not farmers by trade. Think "Green Acres" here), and 63 days later, here we are, the reluctant "grandparents" to a slew of rolly polly illegitimate dog-children.

Can you say:
They'll be ready the end of August. Any takers?

The Significance of A Name

I gotta tell you about this cool thing that happened yesterday.

Michaela had an appointment with Chief in the afternoon. Just a check-up and lab work (which, by the way, was fine, again). I had an issue to discuss with him, but nothing overly urgent or horrid. And for the most part, this meeting was routine and benign.

Can't say we've had a ton of those, and it was really nice to just relax and not have anything major to discuss (like liver failure or potential bone marrow transplants!).

***

Michaela has been pretty talkative and interactive lately. So I made a mental note of this because Chief doesn't often get to see her that way. Many times, she's unresponsive and all but ignores him.

Which really makes me feel badly for him, because he tries so hard to be expressive with her. He never ignores her. Even when she was having absence after absence seizure, he would try to communicate with her. She would fade out, and as soon as she would come back again, she would say "Hi!". And so he would act like he had just met her and go, "Hi Michaela! How are you?!" Then she'd be gone again. This would happen over and over, every few minutes, and every time he would show her how excited he was to see her.

But she rarely acknowledged him.

And she never addressed him.

So, since she was doing well and seeming capable, I thought I would try to work with her on it. I just knew it would tickle him if she would just say his name.

So we practiced.

I showed her the picture of the two of them:

"Boo, who's that?"

"Me!"

"Uh huh....and who's that?"

"A boy........(turning away) see Blue's Clues?"

"Wait Boo, look again. What's his name? Who's that?"

"I don't know."

"It's Chief! See? Dr. Chief! Can you say that?"

(Staring) "I can't...."

Bummer. This was going to take more work than I thought.

***

So I tried the saturation approach.

"Hey Boo, who are we going to see today?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do....Chief. We're going to see Chief. Remember? Say Chieeeeeeeeffffffff."

"I can't."

"Sure you can! Say chicken. Ch-ch-ch."

"Ch..."

"Good! Now say Cheeeeeeese."

"Cheeeeeeeeese."

"Yeah! Now say Chieeeeeeeee----ffffffffff....."

"Chiffff."

It was a start. And all day I practiced with her. Trying to build those mental bridges. Association. Hospital=Chief. Elevators=Chief (she LOVES the elevators). Ch-ch-ch. As much as we could.

But for some reason, she could only come up with "the Boy" on her own.

***

So the time came. We were in the room, waiting for our turn. I asked her a couple more times, "Who are we going to see? That boy? What's his name?"

No response.

She decided she wanted to doodle on the table paper.

Oh well, I thought. It was worth the shot.

So he comes in and says "Hi Gorgeous! How are you!" And I think she just stared, or maybe said hi. But nothing exemplary or earth shattering. So he just went on with typical office visit type stuff. Talking to her occasionally, but not worrying about the blank stare or lack of response. He's used to it.

But then it happened.

She was looking at a book, and it dropped. Right at his feet.

He looks at it and says, "Do you want to pick it up, or do you want me to?"

"You." She says.

So he picks it up and gives it to her slowly. I prompt her out of motherly habit...

"Say 'Thank you' to Chief, Michaela."
.
.
.
.
.
.
"Thank you, Chief."

***

I don't know who's smile was broader.

His or mine.

It may have been a small step, a relatively insignificant thing. I mean, so many people take such things for granted. But to me, that was a very cool thing. Not only did she learn something that I taught her, but she interacted with someone she really hadn't before. Someone who is very important in her life. Someone who cares a lot about her, and who is doing everything they can to help her.

Someone who can appreciate the significance of saying 'thank you'. The significance of remembering a name.

***

He was very pleased with her progress, and how she had stayed stable for so long. I think he was relieved. Just plain happy.

I think she had made his day.

And before he left us, he noticed the doodling she had done on the table paper.

"Did YOU do this Michaela?"

No response.

"Wow. Can I have it? Would that be OK?"

Blank stare.

He proceeds to tear out a yard's worth of table paper very carefully. Making sure that the edges don't catch the drawings. He folds it neatly, precisely, until it can fit in a much smaller place. And tucks it away. He didn't say what he was going to do with it, but I had an idea.

Let's just say, I don't think it saw a trash can......






Yes. It was worth the shot.

Guess What Today Is!

Today is my 100th post.

Who woulda thunk it?

6 months and 27 days after starting our journey, we reach a major milestone.

And it's because of all of you that I'm still doing this....

Because it's much more motivating to write, when you have an audience....

...and Commenters!!

So, in honor of my 100th, and in lieu of flowers, cards, or chocolate, I would LOVE to have a quick (or extensive!) comment from each of you.

Whether you're a new or old reader, whether you've commented before or not, whether you're reading this post now or 5 years from now, please let me know that you were here!

And please feel free to hang around for another "Wonderful" 100!

(BTW: I won't stop you from commenting AND sending chocolate!)

***

Seeing how I started this blog because of Michaela, and my first post was about her, I thought it only fitting to post about her for my 100th.

She's doing well. Very well.

The ups and downs of the past are past, and the Felbamate seems to be helping her hold her own far longer than any other medication has in the past few years. They call it the "LGS Miracle Drug", and now I understand why:

It's giving her quality of life.

It's giving US quality of life.

I can actually talk to her like I talk with the other children. No, she's not at an 8-year-old level, but she CAN comprehend. For example, she wanted some ice water, but she hadn't finished what she already had in her cup. So I simply told her, "Uh, you'll have to drink that first and then I'll get you some more." Simple. Plain. No baby talk or repetition. And she finished it, and I got her some more.

Normal.

That's nice.

And even if I only get glimpses of normal, I'll take whatever I can get. She still has a hard time processing information and commands. The part of her brain that has the problem, is the area that is responsible for initiating things. Like "Come here" takes her about 5-10 seconds to figure out. That's OK. We've learned how to give her the space it takes. If we need her to do something immediately, we move her ourselves.

People ask me all the time, "So she doesn't have seizures anymore?".

No, she still has seizures. Michaela has seizures every day of her life. I don't remember the last day she didn't have one seizure. It was years ago. In fact, she has multiple seizures every day.

It's a part of her life. It may never go away. But we're adapting.

She's eating, walking, talking, even getting into trouble. She loves sticker books, coloring, Blue's Clues, and "big Legos". She'd rather drink ice water over juice anyday. She adores her Daddy. She can't be without her Mama. And home is where her heart is.

Overall, I have no complaints. I have 5 incredible children, an awesome husband, an extremely supportive extended family (and church family!), a nice home, and generally anything I need.

I do have a sick child, but she's stable.

And 6+ months post-diagnosis....




.....I still have A Wonderful Life.

The Rules

My boys are something else, I tell ya.

Today I was doing a light shopping (read: one cart full), and my friend Heather gave me a hand and kept the girls for me. So it was just me and the boys. Asher had fallen asleep in the van, and continued to snore through the entire mundane adventure. Very nice. I'll take it.

Before we hit the list, the boys got themselves a "coke" (Southern for "soda" or "pop", and has NOTHING to do with the red can at all). Noah picked something caffeinated, and Caleb chose something caffeinated with some carbonation thrown in for looks. What a treat for them. IF they get soda, it's Sprite or the like-----i.e. NO CAFFEINE. But Caleb spent his own money this time, so I let them pick.

What it DID, is kept those two busy for almost the entire time we were in the store.

Between sipping and discussing the bold, refreshing taste of pure "hyper in a can", they were all but ignoring me. Which made my job a lot more peaceful and less time consuming.

But I couldn't keep myself from overhearing their little discussions. They weren't constantly talking about the sodas or the cans, but they were also having really in-depth conversations about random things:

Rules.

And I remember doing this as a kid. Remember in Grampa's pool, Liz? We would decide what tricks could be done at what spot, and how you climbed the ladder, and that you had to hold your breathe for 6 seconds after jumping into the deep end. I mean, totally random, utterly meaningless, and relatively stupid rules. But they kept us busy ALL DAY. They dictated everything we did within that time and space. And they changed the NEXT time we were at the pool. New day, new rules.

Well, the boys were doing the same thing.

***

Noah: "So you can't put your foot on that tile over there. You have to only use the ones right behind the cart."

Caleb: "Yeah, and if you step on those over there, the monster comes out and gets you. So you have to stay where the cart protects you."

Noah: "But he doesn't eat you."

Caleb: "No, he just throws you around a bunch."

Noah: "Right. And if you need to REALLY be protected, then you stand on the part of the cart on the bottom. And he can't touch you then."

Caleb: "Yeah Yeah! But not when the Walmart guys are watching, cuz we're not allowed to stand on the carts."

Noah: "Oh, then we'll have to duck down if we're standing on the sides, right?"

Caleb: "Mmmm Hmmmm."



Perfectly logical nonsense.

***

You know, I don't think kids make up rules for nothing.

I think it's built into them. It's part of a child's makeup, this thing with rules. See, I didn't instigate this game the little guys played. I didn't suggest it. They came up with it themselves. They HAD FUN making and following rules.

So why do parents have such a hard time making and following rules when it involves their children? Why do we cringe when it comes time to "lay down the law"? Why do we think we're being too strict because we put boundaries on our children's behavior?

Because they pitch a fit? Because they don't necessarily fall in line?

I dare say it's because many parents are not willing to put the time into enforcing "the rules". It's much easier to allow a child the freedom to dictate their own set of guidelines, then to raise the bar and expect more out of that child. And then, not to mention, follow through and demand that they adhere to them-----or suffer the consequences. That's a lot of work for a parent.

But as anyone can see from the rules my boys concocted for themselves, children cannot make rules that will dictate logical and socially acceptable behavior. Nevermind teach them to be mindful, courteous, productive members of society. I'm sorry, but "Monster Rules" just don't hold water in the real world.

And unfortunately, in today's society, that's just the kind of perfectly logical nonsense so many parents think will raise their children.

I, for one, am scared of the long term effects of such thinking.

Moral of the story?

Children can handle rules. It's up to us to make them and teach them how to adhere to them.

Anything less, and we may ALL have to walk on certain tiles at Walmart someday.

Where I've Been

No one is sick, VBS is done, and the wedding has turned into a honeymoon. I'm officially home and anxious for some much needed (wanted?) rest. I'm still not unpacked, but who cares? I'm home, and with nothing pressing for a while, I can get to it whenever I feel like it. Sweet laziness!

Here's a recap of my life over the past month or so....

***

The boys did a little horseback riding for the first time. Actually, I think the "riding" would classify more in the realm of a "pony ride", but these were not ponies. They were full size horses; a good 16 hands high. And yes, even Asher had a turn. He's not afraid of heights.


Can't say I wasn't a little leery of the whole situation, but Chris and "Uncle Joey" are good with horses, so they kept a close hand on the kids and the equines, and all was well. Caleb loved every minute. Asher smiled and clapped. Noah, well.........Noah sometimes worries too much to have fun. Wonder where he gets THAT from?

***

Bible School went well. It was a somewhat harrowing experience. The nature of the project kept me on my toes much of the time. I was constantly worrying about running out of material. During the 8 day School, we had 1-2 new students every day through the 5th day. This is somewhat unusual. Usually, we have new additions on the 2nd, 3rd and 4th days, but I've never heard of anyone coming on the 5th. Not to mention, we figured we'd have 20 students at the most. Day 1? 22. Not a way to be prepared. We were scrambling from the start.
Here's a picture of it. What you can't see on this picture is the main attraction of the project: the marble magnets. The kids not only painted and decorated these metal trays, but they also made magnets to go on them. I thought it was a cool idea (I came up with it myself), but it presented with too many variables.

And of course there were the usual and customary glitches in the road.

I hate glitches.

True glitches are something you're not prepared for, and I HATE being unprepared.

I don't think I started breathing until I left for Tulsa the Thursday of VBS.

***

Which was interesting.

Firstly, I was in no mood to drive for 10+ hours on Thursday. Not to mention deal with the kids' issues constantly. I was wiped out from VBS. Thankfully, (OH THANKFULLY!) my good friend Kim decided to come along for the ride and help me corral the kids since Chris couldn't come.

Kim likes to drive.

A lot.

((angels singing "Halleluia Chorus" in the background))

Not only did she drive the whole way there, but she drove the entire trip back.

A blessing on my head! Mazel Tov, Mazel Tov!

Once we were there, there was a seemingly endless string of late nights, scheduled events, and fattening food. All of which make for a slightly exhausted Kelly.

Remember: this was after the VBS from stress-ville.

I DID enjoy seeing my family for the first time in a long time. Uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents (not to mention my brothers) were there in abundance, and the experience couldn't have been more pleasant. I always appreciate a good reunion. And unlike last time, this was a most happy occasion.

Congrats to Dave and Chrystal!

My wedding advice to them?

The same as Chris and I got:

"Kids Happen"



AMEN.

***

There were probably many more interesting things that happened to me this past month that I could've blogged about, but alas, my mind fails me. Yet now that things have settled down a bit, perhaps blogging will become a bit more prolific in my future?

We shall see, we shall see......

That'll Teach Ya

On Sundays, we usually have a big meal during lunchtime (we eat with a local family who's adopted us, and we take turns with preparations). In the world of Southern Living, this means a 10 dish spread. Except for when it's my turn to cook, THEN we often eat Northern Style----casseroles, a meat with a couple of sides, pastas. As often as I try to acclimate to the local way of eating, I just can't seem to reprogram my brain into making a Thanksgiving type meal for a normal day like Sunday.

I'm thinking, "OK, we've got a veggie and a starch and the meat......that's gotta be good."

And all the while, they're making: roast, gravy, yeast rolls, creamed potatoes, broccoli casserole, macaroni and cheese (NEVER a side in Yankee-ville!), sweet potato pie, green beans.....the list goes on.

And NEVER forget the sweet-tea.

That's a big no-no!

I'm getting stuffed just thinking about it.

But MAN! As much as I'm used to typical Yankee cooking, I sure do like the Southern style plenty!

My waist line.......not so much.

***

Needless to say, a nap is a requirement on Sundays, after the big meal.

And after that, we usually have just enough time to get everyone ready and packed up to go back to church for the evening service. There's simply no time........or room(!)........for supper.

So what we'll do is get a snack after the nighttime service. The kids get in their pjs, and then they can get something small to eat before bed.

Tonight, the boys wanted pistachios. Sounded good to me. But unfortunately, the girls could have never figured out how to crack those open. So instead, I offered them some popcorn. Quick, tasty, and light. Perfect. Even Asher could eat that.

So I sat down next to Michaela with the bowl and we dug in. And I do mean "DUG IN".

Like any small child would, she attempted to grab a whole handful of popcorn.

I could already see the problem with this: She wasn't going to be the only one eating out of the bowl, and trying to get an 8-year-old size handful of popcorn into her mouth was going to result in more snack on her lap than in her stomach.

I felt a lesson coming on....

***

"OK, Boo, here. Watch Mama. See? Two fingers. Look! Two fingers. Mmmmmm."

She dives in with 4.

"No no honey. Here, let me help you. This finger and this finger together. Good. Now reach dowwwwnnnn and......Great! Good job. Two fingers!"

"Now you try..........Nope! No, wait.......twwwwooooooo fingers. Theeeeeerrrrrre. See? Wonderful!"

This went on for quite some time. Me, holding her hand from the top, curling the last three fingers into her palm, and pinching the other two together. Down, up, in the mouth. Down, up, in the mouth. She seemed to get the hang of it.

I felt kinda proud that I could teach her that. I mean, it's not like I'm some kinda occupational therapist or anything. Just a Mom. Who........happens to like things neat.......

Yeah, well, then I let her try it on her own.

She did it perfectly.

Only, she didn't do it like I taught her at all.

She used a different set of two fingers. With as much dexterity as any typical 8-year-old.



So much for my ego trip!

Modern Day Bible Story

Isn't it amazing how one thing gets you thinking about another?

Chris only gets paid once a month. So, when we get his check on the 1st, I sit down and work on the bills. This often requires me to enter numerous little debit card slips, Walmart receipts, and filled out checks. Then I rifle through my "bills to be paid" folder to find everything that needs to be paid for that month. I balance the accounts.

Well, sometime last month, after his May 1st check but before his June 1st, I received a bill from Children's Hospital. Nothing major. A little unexpected, but nothing to take my breath away. I promptly did with it what I do with all the bills---filed it away until I could deal with it.

Dealing was yesterday.

And here's the little glitch. The bill, as minor as it was, should've been Medicaid territory. IF Medicaid hadn't denied her. And I was hoping the hospital would be willing to hold the bills until the hearing. But they won't. Guess I should've figured. So I gave the nice lady on the phone my debit card number, and that was that.

But it got me thinking:

When IS this hearing??

I got a letter via snail-mail a couple of months ago from one of Medicaid's lawyers telling me that a hearing date would be determined soon, and that they would let me know when that would be shortly after that. She figured it wouldn't be until August.

But I hadn't heard hide nor hair of them since.

Hmmmm, I think it's about time they got a phone call, don't you?

***

I can say this for the Medicaid attorneys:

They are some of the nicest lawyers you will ever meet. No kidding.

I left a message for one in particular, and she promptly returned my call. THAT in itself is a miracle. I couldn't even get the attorney I'm trying to retain for this case to return my call on the same day----and I'm paying him!

And then she was very kind to tell me that they would answer any question I had (big job in itself!), and that I could call her with any questions regarding the paperwork they were going to send me. She also made sure to let me know that they were not "out to get me" or trap me or even deny me, for that matter. And I knew that she meant it. She has helped me before, and she wasn't just putting on.

Unfortunately, she also told me when the hearing is....

November 14th (about a year after I started this process)

In Montgomery, the state capitol.

3 hours away.

Arrrggghhhhh.

***

I was also informed that the state would have their own physicians there to back up their case and examine all of my medical documentation. Not to mention their attorneys. So far, I know that I have to have all my material photocopied in triplicate for them. But now that the case is NOT going to be at the offices in my county seat, I have a feeling that there will be WAY more experts for the state than if they had to travel up here. In fact, my friendly phone attorney told me as much. They are having the hearing down there just so that they can have all their examiners there. Too many to have to travel.......

Yikes.

Ever heard the story of David and Goliath?

Stay tuned...it's going down in November...

Short, Sweet, And To The Point

I'm better!

Actually, I got fairly well the same night I wrote that last post, but I haven't posted since because I've been CRAZY!

HECTIC!

SCATTERBRAINED!

(Matt! No Comments!)

Between the holiday, recuperating, getting ready for VBS, and just plain LIFE with 5 kids, I've been one busy person. Blogging? What's that??

And to top it all off, my brother is getting married at the end of next week. In Tulsa. 10 hours away.

So if y'all don't hear from me for awhile, it's not because I don't have plenty to tell you.

It's simply because I don't won't have any extra time on my "hands."

LITERALLY!

I'm Not Dead....

....yet.

Actually, I'm just SICK.

The really annoying kind where you can hardly function.

Noah is holding down the fort. Thank God for Noah! Oh, and Chris too when he's home. Thanks honey!

But in the middle of all this, I'm supposed to be doing a ton of stuff to get ready for our Vacation Bible School in a week. Can you say "Bad timing?"

I have a bunch of stuff to post, including some great pics, but it's just gonna have to wait.

This Mother-ship is closed for repairs.

Makin' Cookies

My kids love to cook with me.

I only wish I had the patience to let them help more....
(Perhaps if I were a better cook, it wouldn't stress me out!)

Here they are, making Chocolate Chip/Pecan Cookies this afternoon:

Such concentration.....

A much needed ingredient


What a blast!


Fringe benefits


Enjoying the fruits of their labor


We've got plenty! Come on by and grab ya some!

Syrup of Mom

Back in the day, my Grandmother would talk about something called "Syrup of Coke". From what I remember, it was nothing more than the official ingredient to the soft drink we all know and love. Add some carbonated water, and voila, Coca Cola. It's still an essential part of making the drink you order at any participating restaurant. The "tap" or "fountain" version. If you look closely when you get your refill at McDonald's (or the like), you'll see the clear carbonated water flowing around a dark stream of--coke syrup.

Soda fountains of old were often times in the same location as the local pharmacy. I'm not sure which came first, the soft drink or the remedy, but Syrup of Coke was dispensed by pharmacists for ailments such as nausea. I think there may have even been a time when my Grandmother gave me some. If not, I at least remember the bottle she had it in. And hey, what kid would fuss to get Coke for a tummy ache? It sure beat Castor oil....

***

There's nothing like a sick child on Mother's Day to remind you that you're REALLY a bona-fide Mom. Forget flowers and chocolates, there's just something about a wailing, snotty, clingy baby that screams, "Happy Mother's Day! It's Official!"

Asher had been dealing with something of the ailment variety for about 4 days when Mother's Day rolled around. I had figured he'd be over it by then, but alas, his cough and runny nose and low-grade fever had escalated. He was now full blown sick, and very pitiful. Chris and I took turns going to church services that day, and the holiday turned out to be your average "sick kid" day: pampering, nose-wiping, fluid pushing, rocking.

He even had me up late that night, hacking away. Poor guy.

***

I'm not the type of Mom to rush to the medicine cabinet every time my kids sniffle. I truly believe that their bodies can do a lot of the work themselves. Fevers don't bother me, because as much as it's a sign of infection, the fever is there to counteract that infection. Why would I want to meddle with that? If I do give my kids Tylenol for a fever, it's only to comfort them and give them a break from the internal fight. Fever is many times my kids' friend--it's a good thing to have around at times like this. If there's a true problem, there will generally be other signs to alert me and put me on the phone with my pediatrician.

Well, Asher was getting to the point that night where he just needed a break. All the more homeopathic remedies just weren't giving him any relief, and he couldn't sleep. I had tried to give him something to stave off the horrendous cough (which also had acetaminophen in it), but it didn't even touch it. Against my better judgment (even though I knew it wouldn't hurt him), I resigned to giving him a low dose of Children's NyQuil. 15 minutes later he was asleep. And he got the rest he'd been needing for a long time.

But I hated it. It really grated on me to give him that. I'm glad he got to rest, but I just don't like giving my kids meds. Let's not even DISCUSS Michaela.

***

The next night, Asher seemed to be doing better, but not great. His cough got worse the sleepier he got, and I knew I should just bring out the big guns again, and get it over with. Thankfully, he slept all night long with hardly any coughing.

But Libby had caught it.

And sure enough, she was hacking and barking like a seal. It didn't help that she was all but hysterical dealing with her breathing difficulty. Trying to calm her down was like keeping a greyhound from a rabbit: can be done, but very difficult! The more she barked, the more she heaved, the more she freaked out. I had tried everything in my arsenal of benign therapies (hey, if a placebo works, why not?), as well as not-so-benign, but she was still suffering. Still unable to relax. Had already given her some cough syrup, but alas, no relief.

So we switched to plan B. Chris got her out of bed and into ours. We propped her up on pillows to keep her elevated (nothing different than what I had already done), and put a cool mist humidifier in our room. I kept her close.

And would you believe it? I think that kid only coughed maybe ONE MORE TIME the entire night! She settled down in my arms, closed her eyes, and drifted to sleep. Her breathing was clear, and she was relaxed. Even in the morning when she woke up and coughed a little bit, she didn't freak out and it didn't seem to bother her much at all.

Don't tell me it was the humidifier. It hadn't even been on for 5 minutes when she fell asleep.

It was the "Syrup of Mom." I'm sure of it.

And I think I'll whip that out pri-tee quick next time. (But I dare say it only works in my bed!)

***

Speaking of sick kids and Mother's Day, my two and their coughs are nothing compared to what Dream Mom is dealing with. She was just praying that her Dear Son wouldn't DIE on Mother's Day, nevermind sleep through the night. And from her blog, it seems as though he's still fighting for his life.

My heartfelt concern and prayers go out to her and her sick baby. We hope to hear good news soon.

OK, That's Just WRONG

Giving Noah his last spelling test of the year (see previous post), and the word is "pull".

(Don't ask me WHY this spelling curriculum thinks that 2nd graders need words like "pull" at the very end of the year. Needless to say, I will be switching to something more challenging next year!)

But after I recite the word, he goes on to ask me:

"Did you say 'pull'?"

"Yeah. Pull. As in, 'Let's pull the wagon'."

"OH. See, you need to use sentences, because I though you said 'pull', like 'the North Pull'."

"NO Noah, that's 'pole'----OOOOOOO. I said 'pull'-------UUUUUHHHHHH."

"Riiiiiiight."

What is going on here?!?! Do I have to speak Southern just so that my kid can understand me? Since when does 'pull' sound like "pole"???

Someone needs to get me a Northern/Southern translation dictionary, and a pen so I can mark down all these pronunciations I'm gonna have to learn.

NO! I don't want a PIN! I said PEN! EH! EH!

Vacation

Last Day of School! Hooray!

After today, Noah will officially be a third grader. And you know, it's funny. This homeschooling thing really has it's perks. Without giving you my diatribe on the "Benefits of Schooling Your Own Children", there is ONE thing that I really like about it:

SUMMER VACATION!

Before I homeschooled, it was weird how that time of the year just didn't seem to have the luster that it once had. When I was a child, I LIVED for summer vacations! The last few months of school were pure torture, expecially in high school. And no, I was too much of a "goody-two-shoes" to enjoy a "skip day" here and there (besides, Dad woulda had my hide!). So summer vacation was my time, man.

But after graduation was over--so were the benefits. I started off by going to college right away--that summer. Quite the rude awakening. And until I had Michaela, I worked every summer. Which was sooooo weird. You just FELT like you needed to be somewhere having fun. Getting up early for work was just plain HARD. Like something wasn't right.....

But no more, man. Now, I'm the teacher. Now, I have 3 months of freedom. We can go to the park, and to the lake, and shopping whenever, and we can sleep in (well, when Michaela's done school, in a couple weeks), and hang out with friends. I can take the kids swimming and on trips, and keep them up late. All because it's summer.

Just chalk another one up for Homeschooling!

The Little Piece of Info That Spared Me Gray Hair

There have been many instances in my life where I could honestly say that what I didn't know, didn't hurt me.

Monday, that just didn't apply.

***

I was at the hospital, witnessing my best friend give birth to her 5th child. She had had an abnormally long labor, with various degrees of difficulties and speed bumps. Nothing physical, per se (well, beta strep, but that's manageable), just false labor and long labor and puttering labor (which, in case all you guys out there don't realize, is a HUGE annoyance). Seemingly, the baby just coasted through all this, as his heart rate didn't fluctuate in any serious manner, and he handled himself in all the appropriate neonatal ways. Nothing to make the docs cry cesarean or anything. But it WAS long. Painstakingly long.

Yet, as most all babies do, he finally made his grand entrance. And I would like to say he came out kicking and screaming.

But he didn't.

At all.

Of course, no one panicked at first. Babies do that silent thing sometimes, and you just need to rough 'em up a little. Get a towel. Flick their feet. We hate it when they don't scream bloody murder the second they're born, but we don't fuss at them if they take a moment to look around. As long as they DO scream. Then our hearts beat normally again. And we forget all about it.

But when the neonatologist comes running in.......that's just pure heart stopping material. Prayer is not planned, it just seems to happen without any thought at all.

***

So here we were, a slew of people to witness the birth, and that many more people to make sure it WAS a birth and not a death. And all of a sudden, you could tell the fear factor stepped up a notch. There didn't seem to be a dry eye amongst the observers. Especially not the Daddy, or the aunts, cousins and other friends. It was controlled chaos, but it was emotional chaos, just the same.

Except for me. I honestly wasn't scared at all.

Not at all.

Now, I'm not saying that my heart wasn't thumping. You just can't help it when adrenaline flows, and it was an intense situation. But I definitely wouldn't describe myself as scared or nervous or emotional. In fact, I wouldn't be the least surprised if everyone there thought I was completely insensitive and stone-hearted (although they probably didn't really notice me). But I wasn't that either.

I was informed.

I knew what was going on, knew how they were going to fix it, knew that those docs are the best at doing exactly what they were doing to that little guy, right then. If he needed a kick-start, they knew just how to use the jumper cables.

And I also knew that this was not a rare occurrence for a newborn. Sometimes their bodies just get a little shocked, a little confused, a little out-of-whack. Especially after a labor like that. And yes, they need some help. But again, the docs that help are not new at what they do, and they do their job well. Just another day at the office for them, really.

I tried to do what I could to reassure the others. The silent nod of, "It's gonna be ok", and "He'll be fine, don't worry." But they had no clue that I had some understanding behind those comments, and not just faith (which, by the way, is just as powerful, if it really IS faith and not just positive thinking). And they weren't so sure. My friends would've liked to be able to say that, but he was so gray. He wasn't crying. He wasn't breathing. They were still working feverishly. Kelly, how can you be so sure?

I guess if I hadn't done a little reading on the subject, hadn't heard enough happy-ending stories just like this one, then maybe I wouldn't have been so confident. Maybe I would've been very scared. Maybe I would've been distraught. It's very likely. For all intents and purposes, it looked as if my best friend was going to lose her last baby. That's nothing to sneeze at.

But it wasn't like that for me, and I was really grateful. It was good to know that I didn't need to be afraid. That, yes, something could still go terribly wrong, but at that stage, his odds of being anything short of perfectly fine, were really slim. A little bit of knowledge really went a long way that day. That was a nice reassurance. It was also nice to be able to help someone else by my confidence. By my lack of fear.

***

He still didn't cry a whole lot before they took him to the NICU. Yet, they took him to his Mama first, and as I stood there with her, he seemed to be just fine. Call me crazy, but that baby didn't look any different than any other newborn: pink, wide-eyed, and content. I mean, does he really need to scream all the time in order to be healthy? I don't think so. Maybe, just maybe, for the first time, she got a quiet, pensive little guy to take home with her (instead of the rambunctious, full-tilt boys she has at home). He was breathing, and that's what really mattered. We like breathing babies, crying or no.

***

If you get anything out of this post, realize this: even the most mundane things can create fear where there's a lack of understanding. A lack of knowledge can be crippling, even. Say, for instance, your newborn has a rash suddenly. If no one EVER told you that it's no big deal for your 1-month-old to have a nasty rash on his face (it's hormonal, it goes away on it's own), then you would very likely freak out. You may rush to the ER. If not that, then you would most definitely be calling your pediatrician, asking to be seen pronto. Who, as soon as he sees your child, would quickly tell you that you have no cause for worry, and explain why.

So, after your next child is born, and gets that nasty rash, you don't bat an eyelash. Why not? You know better. You understand more. You're informed. And you don't incur any more gray hairs than you need to.

Yet, there's not always someone there to tell you these things. At least, not before they happen. Either you find out the hard way, and lose 5 years of your life in the process, or you study up. Perhaps not about everything under the sun. But definitely about the types of things that will affect you.

For example:

Ladies, don't have a baby without studying. Your OB is not giving you the whole story in the 10 minutes they're in that room with you. You're just setting yourself up for some crushed dreams. Oh, and don't try to nurse without reading something about it. There's too many factors against you, to not inform yourself.

Men, read up on health issues that plague men and how to catch those early. More than likely, you're really busy taking care of your family, and not taking care of yourself like you should. And while you're at it, (this is for women too), you'd do yourself a huge favor to know something about how a car runs, for example. Or anything else in your house. It'll just save you from getting ripped off, I promise.

A big purchase, a new vehicle, a new house, a surgical procedure, a childhood illness....these are all situations in life that demand your time and energy. If not anywhere else, the internet has more information than anyone could ever read, just waiting for you to dive in. You don't have to be an innocent bystander. You don't have to be a sucker.

You don't have to be afraid when the going gets rough.

Do yourself a favor. Inform yourself. What you don't know, really could hurt you. Or at least make for a really bad day.

***

By the way, whaddya think of my newest "nephew"?

Yeah, he'll be kickin' and screamin' before we all know it. Let's enjoy it while we can! ;)