We are suffering from a ridiculous amount of sickness over here. Anna-Laura has bacterial pneumonia (oh joy) and I'm taking the boys BACK in tomorrow morning for coughs and fevers. Nine days and a doctor visit and it's still not getting better. Clare has an infected bug bite which I think the doctor is going to have to lance (double joy).
Prayers appreciated :)
Today's HDYDI is...not very well!
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Monday, July 18, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
QOTW: July 8, 2011
This Friday, you actually get the story of the week, peppered with quotes (as noted by the fancy-shmancy italics). This is a doozie and totally sums up life with five kids. Enjoy.
Last Friday afternoon, just before naptime, the kids were playing hide-n-go seek. All fine and dandy until someone gets hurt, right? I call them out of my bedroom and I hear a WHACK, then a THUD, see John Paul walk out of my room sheepishly and hear a WAAAA from Clare. She walks out holding her arm.
Mom-radar kicked in and I immediately knew the following things to be true:
1. John Paul had hurt his sister.
2. Possibly on purpose.
3. Clare had nursemaid's elbow.
4. The ER visit would cost us around $400 smackeroos (hopsital room, ER doc, x-ray + a valium for me).
5. I was completely peeved.
John Paul got sent to timeout while I muttered something like, "Your piggy bank better have $400 bucks, mister."
I took Clare upstairs to her room and tried to bend her arm.
"MOMMY THAT HURTS!" she wailed.
"D****T," I tried to say quietly.
Will softly whispers, "I heard that, Mom."
Proof that I did not.
Before I call Scott, I decide to text my college roommate whose husband is an ER doc. Todd knows us well. This would be, after all, our THIRTEENTH visit to the ER. Can I just say that is wrong on so, so, SO many levels? While I'm waiting to hear back, I call Scott and say, "Well, are you ready to start off the weekend with a bang?"
In the meantime, Clare is continuing to cry, I get Luke down for a nap, John Paul is in timeout and Will and Anna-Laura are doing their best to keep C calm.
I hang up the phone and hear the familiar 'ding' on my phone. Incoming text says Todd is not at work, but I can call him on his cell. I call, get the voicemail, leave a slightly exhasperated message and hope that he calls back soon.
Clare is still crying, Luke is (thankfully) still sleeping, John Paul is still sitting in timeout, W and ALG are still doing a great job and I'm still muttering under my breath.
The phone rings and it's Dr. Todd on the other end of the line. We chat briefly about how it all went down and then I ask, "So, should I take her to the ER or could we swing by the Urgent Care place across the street?"
"Well, do you want to fix it yourself?" he says.
Hallelujah, baby. "YES!" I reply, perhaps a bit too enthusiasticly?
I put Dr. T on speakerphone and less than a minute later the crying has ceased and the elbow is fixed.
I practically scream in the phone, "Holy smokes, Todd. You. Are. So. Awesome."
Then I text his wife: "Todd is awesome. Walked me thru it on the phone. All better. Tell him he has a six pack of beer with his name ALL over it."
Oh, yeah. Momma has skillz.
As I'm walking down the stairs, I hear a tiny little voice say, "So, Mom. Can I get out of timeout now?"
He's still sitting there.
And that, my sweet readers, is your SOTW!
Last Friday afternoon, just before naptime, the kids were playing hide-n-go seek. All fine and dandy until someone gets hurt, right? I call them out of my bedroom and I hear a WHACK, then a THUD, see John Paul walk out of my room sheepishly and hear a WAAAA from Clare. She walks out holding her arm.
Mom-radar kicked in and I immediately knew the following things to be true:
1. John Paul had hurt his sister.
2. Possibly on purpose.
3. Clare had nursemaid's elbow.
4. The ER visit would cost us around $400 smackeroos (hopsital room, ER doc, x-ray + a valium for me).
5. I was completely peeved.
John Paul got sent to timeout while I muttered something like, "Your piggy bank better have $400 bucks, mister."
I took Clare upstairs to her room and tried to bend her arm.
"MOMMY THAT HURTS!" she wailed.
"D****T," I tried to say quietly.
Will softly whispers, "I heard that, Mom."
Proof that I did not.
Before I call Scott, I decide to text my college roommate whose husband is an ER doc. Todd knows us well. This would be, after all, our THIRTEENTH visit to the ER. Can I just say that is wrong on so, so, SO many levels? While I'm waiting to hear back, I call Scott and say, "Well, are you ready to start off the weekend with a bang?"
In the meantime, Clare is continuing to cry, I get Luke down for a nap, John Paul is in timeout and Will and Anna-Laura are doing their best to keep C calm.
I hang up the phone and hear the familiar 'ding' on my phone. Incoming text says Todd is not at work, but I can call him on his cell. I call, get the voicemail, leave a slightly exhasperated message and hope that he calls back soon.
Clare is still crying, Luke is (thankfully) still sleeping, John Paul is still sitting in timeout, W and ALG are still doing a great job and I'm still muttering under my breath.
The phone rings and it's Dr. Todd on the other end of the line. We chat briefly about how it all went down and then I ask, "So, should I take her to the ER or could we swing by the Urgent Care place across the street?"
"Well, do you want to fix it yourself?" he says.
Hallelujah, baby. "YES!" I reply, perhaps a bit too enthusiasticly?
I put Dr. T on speakerphone and less than a minute later the crying has ceased and the elbow is fixed.
I practically scream in the phone, "Holy smokes, Todd. You. Are. So. Awesome."
Then I text his wife: "Todd is awesome. Walked me thru it on the phone. All better. Tell him he has a six pack of beer with his name ALL over it."
Oh, yeah. Momma has skillz.
As I'm walking down the stairs, I hear a tiny little voice say, "So, Mom. Can I get out of timeout now?"
He's still sitting there.
And that, my sweet readers, is your SOTW!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Me + Jillian = Slightly better abs
Can I just tell you that after looking in the mirror morning after morning and being so sad at the reflection...the tired eyes, the gray hair, the "extra" pounds of love around the mid-section...I decided to do something about it.
Buy better concealer.
Call my hairstylist.
Buy the Jillian Michael "30 Day Shred" DVD.
So far, I haven't died. It's been 23 days and I'm noticing less inches (yeah) but not much change on the scale (boo). I am, however, a little less stressed because I get to vent my frustrations to the TV at 0545 every morning. Scott has been getting his hiney to the gym, too. Very proud.
Our next project? The food we're eating. Ugh. Being a responsible adult is hard work.
Buy better concealer.
Call my hairstylist.
Buy the Jillian Michael "30 Day Shred" DVD.
So far, I haven't died. It's been 23 days and I'm noticing less inches (yeah) but not much change on the scale (boo). I am, however, a little less stressed because I get to vent my frustrations to the TV at 0545 every morning. Scott has been getting his hiney to the gym, too. Very proud.
Our next project? The food we're eating. Ugh. Being a responsible adult is hard work.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Top Ten: Things That Freak Me Out
Since I've been doing my fair share of freak outs lately, I figured, heck, let's just write these puppies down.
TOP TEN: THINGS THAT FREAK ME OUT
1. Pee on the toilet seat. Um, gross.
2. Ear wax.
3. Luke surgeries even when I know it's the best thing. It's hard to put your baby in the hands of a surgeon, no matter how good looking he may be.
4. Centipedes.
5. A hacky, coughy kid who puts his hands all over yours.
6. Getting on an airplane even though the destination is awesome, the smell of jet fuel and being thousands of feet in the air (especially if over water) REALLY freaks me out. Uh, stewardess, glass of wine and a valium please.
7. The national debt. That many zeroes would look awesome if on the positive end of my bank account but notsomuch when we're talking about our country's debt.
8. The price of college tuition. Thinking about what it's going to be in 2023 starts me hyperventilating.
9. The balcony at our house. I'm terrified John Paul is going to figure out a way to jump off of it.
10. Kids running with scissors, pencils or anything sharp.
Wow. I am such a control freak. Happy Wednesday :)
TOP TEN: THINGS THAT FREAK ME OUT
1. Pee on the toilet seat. Um, gross.
2. Ear wax.
3. Luke surgeries even when I know it's the best thing. It's hard to put your baby in the hands of a surgeon, no matter how good looking he may be.
4. Centipedes.
5. A hacky, coughy kid who puts his hands all over yours.
6. Getting on an airplane even though the destination is awesome, the smell of jet fuel and being thousands of feet in the air (especially if over water) REALLY freaks me out. Uh, stewardess, glass of wine and a valium please.
7. The national debt. That many zeroes would look awesome if on the positive end of my bank account but notsomuch when we're talking about our country's debt.
8. The price of college tuition. Thinking about what it's going to be in 2023 starts me hyperventilating.
9. The balcony at our house. I'm terrified John Paul is going to figure out a way to jump off of it.
10. Kids running with scissors, pencils or anything sharp.
Wow. I am such a control freak. Happy Wednesday :)
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Feeding Story
Last week, I was asked to share Luke's "feeding story" for an upcoming newsletter for Hand to Hold. We are learning that every NICU baby's story is different. Luke's almost always is! Inspired my fellow NICU mom and friend, Katrina, who posted about Bryce's struggles, I wanted to do the same.
LUKE'S FEEDING STORY
Because Luke Timothy, our fifth baby, was born at 36-weeks, not many of us expected him to have any feeding issues; we didn’t struggle with the typical preemie challenge of suck-swallow-breath. He did have an IUGR diagnosis (intrauterine growth restriction) and did not grow well in my belly. Luke weighed a dainty 3lbs. 9oz. at birth. A few days into our NICU stay, I was able to get him to latch for a couple of feedings and I was elated. In the meantime, I pumped and he ate my milk via bottle feeds beautifully. My husband and I were feeling confident about his progress and hopeful that our stay would be a short one.
Unfortunately, Luke contracted necrotizing entercolitis (NEC). He stopped breathing, was resuscitated and intubated for an emergency transfer to Dell Children’s Medical Center. He underwent exploratory surgery where he lost 16cm of his small intestine, part of his colon and his appendix. For nearly three weeks he was NPO (no feeds). When we reintroduced milk, his feeds were increased at a painfully slow rate. Although just before discharge, he was nursing ad lib and gaining weight to the tune of about an ounce a day. As the days turned into months, he continued to nurse wonderfully (I didn’t wean him until 17 months!), despite more belly and spine surgeries and more bouts of NPO orders following said surgeries. Each time, he would return to his excellent nursing status.
When it came time for baby food, he lapped that up, eating every new flavor we introduced. When he turned one, we made the transition to table food and began seeing signs of oral aversion, sensory challenges and some marked weight loss. His gastroenterologist prescribed an oral supplement, Boost Kid Essentials, along with a calorie enhancer, Duocal. For many months we flirted with G-tube insertion. While the supplement helped him put on the necessary weight, it was complicated by his tender and immature bowels, illness and more oral aversion. He began throwing up at every meal, at the sight of food and when touching various textures. Mealtime has become a constant, and very wearing, struggle.
Presently, Luke receives 97-99% of his daily caloric intake from the supplement and we fight to get him to eat every cracker, every piece of fruit, every vegetable and every bite of meat. Most days the meals end in tears, for all of us. He is in twice weekly therapy and is making progress, albeit extremely slow. I have learned a whole new level of patience. Our goal is to have him eating table food on a consistent basis without gagging or throwing up in the next six months. For now, we are thankful for his baby steps of progress, our therapists and four siblings who are great models of positive eating behavior!
LUKE'S FEEDING STORY
Because Luke Timothy, our fifth baby, was born at 36-weeks, not many of us expected him to have any feeding issues; we didn’t struggle with the typical preemie challenge of suck-swallow-breath. He did have an IUGR diagnosis (intrauterine growth restriction) and did not grow well in my belly. Luke weighed a dainty 3lbs. 9oz. at birth. A few days into our NICU stay, I was able to get him to latch for a couple of feedings and I was elated. In the meantime, I pumped and he ate my milk via bottle feeds beautifully. My husband and I were feeling confident about his progress and hopeful that our stay would be a short one.
Unfortunately, Luke contracted necrotizing entercolitis (NEC). He stopped breathing, was resuscitated and intubated for an emergency transfer to Dell Children’s Medical Center. He underwent exploratory surgery where he lost 16cm of his small intestine, part of his colon and his appendix. For nearly three weeks he was NPO (no feeds). When we reintroduced milk, his feeds were increased at a painfully slow rate. Although just before discharge, he was nursing ad lib and gaining weight to the tune of about an ounce a day. As the days turned into months, he continued to nurse wonderfully (I didn’t wean him until 17 months!), despite more belly and spine surgeries and more bouts of NPO orders following said surgeries. Each time, he would return to his excellent nursing status.
When it came time for baby food, he lapped that up, eating every new flavor we introduced. When he turned one, we made the transition to table food and began seeing signs of oral aversion, sensory challenges and some marked weight loss. His gastroenterologist prescribed an oral supplement, Boost Kid Essentials, along with a calorie enhancer, Duocal. For many months we flirted with G-tube insertion. While the supplement helped him put on the necessary weight, it was complicated by his tender and immature bowels, illness and more oral aversion. He began throwing up at every meal, at the sight of food and when touching various textures. Mealtime has become a constant, and very wearing, struggle.
Presently, Luke receives 97-99% of his daily caloric intake from the supplement and we fight to get him to eat every cracker, every piece of fruit, every vegetable and every bite of meat. Most days the meals end in tears, for all of us. He is in twice weekly therapy and is making progress, albeit extremely slow. I have learned a whole new level of patience. Our goal is to have him eating table food on a consistent basis without gagging or throwing up in the next six months. For now, we are thankful for his baby steps of progress, our therapists and four siblings who are great models of positive eating behavior!
Friday, May 13, 2011
Sweet Moment
The kids did say some quotable quotes this week, but my morning with Luke yesterday trumped them all. Before my memory fades, I wanted to write this down and share. Memories like these should be forever documented. They are the reason motherhood can be so deliciously sweet.
Yesterday morning was a busy one. I took the kids to school only to realize that rain was in the forecast. Instead of our usual "hang out" time at home with Luke and Clare, I decided to head to the grocery store while we still had clear skies. The three of us made it to the store and back out, just in time. We dropped Clare off at school and then I headed home to put up the groceries and perhaps squeeze in another errand or two before her school let out.
As I'm ticking off the to-do list in my head, I glance in the rearview mirror and see Luke. Snoozing away. We were only a mile from the house, so I was positive as soon as I unloaded the groceries he would wake up and we would be on our way.
With the groceries set neatly on the kitchen coutner, I unbuckled my still sleeping toddler, knowing the nap wouldn't last long.
"Hmmm," I thought, as I laid his head on my shoulder. "Maybe I can read this quick article on my iPhone and then he'll wake up as soon as I sit down on the couch."
Nope, still out. At that point, I kicked off my shoes, pushed back the pillows on the couch, settled in and patted his sweet back. Surely, after ME getting comfortable, he would awaken.
Negative. It was then that I realized all the groceries were still sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting to be stored away in the fridge. And you know what I said.
Screw it. They'll still be there when we wake up. The house was dark from the storms. They had just started to roll in. The thunder was building up steam and the rain was really coming down. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. And we slept.
I think we were out about a half hour. I never even thought to glance at the clock. That half hour brought back some bittersweet memories. During Luke's NICU days, I would eat lunch and then scoop him out of his bed, sit in the rocker, lay him on my chest and we would sleep for a good two hours. I did that every afternoon for his last 30 days in the NICU. Somehow, during that nap, I was able to imagine life away from the cords, the specialists and the beeping and dream of normal. We were just a mom and a son, slowing life down a little and enjoying an afternoon siesta.
Yesterday, I got to hold on to his precious childhood a little longer. Luke is a snuggler by nature. When he sleeps on my chest, he and I are like peas and carrots. We just fit together.
The eggs were slightly warm, the cheese a little soft, the milk barely cold, but my heart was warm with gratitude. Thank you, God, for trumping my plans and leading me toward yours.
Yesterday morning was a busy one. I took the kids to school only to realize that rain was in the forecast. Instead of our usual "hang out" time at home with Luke and Clare, I decided to head to the grocery store while we still had clear skies. The three of us made it to the store and back out, just in time. We dropped Clare off at school and then I headed home to put up the groceries and perhaps squeeze in another errand or two before her school let out.
As I'm ticking off the to-do list in my head, I glance in the rearview mirror and see Luke. Snoozing away. We were only a mile from the house, so I was positive as soon as I unloaded the groceries he would wake up and we would be on our way.
With the groceries set neatly on the kitchen coutner, I unbuckled my still sleeping toddler, knowing the nap wouldn't last long.
"Hmmm," I thought, as I laid his head on my shoulder. "Maybe I can read this quick article on my iPhone and then he'll wake up as soon as I sit down on the couch."
Nope, still out. At that point, I kicked off my shoes, pushed back the pillows on the couch, settled in and patted his sweet back. Surely, after ME getting comfortable, he would awaken.
Negative. It was then that I realized all the groceries were still sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting to be stored away in the fridge. And you know what I said.
Screw it. They'll still be there when we wake up. The house was dark from the storms. They had just started to roll in. The thunder was building up steam and the rain was really coming down. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. And we slept.
I think we were out about a half hour. I never even thought to glance at the clock. That half hour brought back some bittersweet memories. During Luke's NICU days, I would eat lunch and then scoop him out of his bed, sit in the rocker, lay him on my chest and we would sleep for a good two hours. I did that every afternoon for his last 30 days in the NICU. Somehow, during that nap, I was able to imagine life away from the cords, the specialists and the beeping and dream of normal. We were just a mom and a son, slowing life down a little and enjoying an afternoon siesta.
Yesterday, I got to hold on to his precious childhood a little longer. Luke is a snuggler by nature. When he sleeps on my chest, he and I are like peas and carrots. We just fit together.
The eggs were slightly warm, the cheese a little soft, the milk barely cold, but my heart was warm with gratitude. Thank you, God, for trumping my plans and leading me toward yours.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Motherhood
Really, where does one begin? I was so selfish and righteous and lazy (!) before I became a mom. My children bring out the best in me. If they get my worst, it's all on me.
They have been my lessons in:
patience.
humility.
laughter.
finding joy in the little stuff.
heartache.
pain.
trust.
faith.
hope.
having wipes in the van at all times.
flexibility.
manners.
and most importantly, love.
Today, I am grateful for my mom Debbie and my mother-in-law, Carla. I am grateful for my two grandmothers, Dora and Mary, both resting in peace. My great-grandmothers, whom I had the privilege of knowing as a small girl. I am grateful for my awesome aunts - all seven of them. I am grateful for my two really funny and fantastically awesome sister-in-laws, Jennifer and Amanda. I love the five amazing Godmothers to my children. And, I am eternally grateful for the example of Mary, the mother of Jesus.
When I reflect on all those awesome, independent, self-assured women I am reminded that life is good. Really, really good. I not only pray for them today, but I pray for all mothers. Today is a celebration of one of God's greatest vocations: motherhood. To all of you, I say a big Texas *thanks* for teaching me how to love my children. God bless ya. Each and every one.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Top Ten: Big Families Rock
This year marks my tenth one as a mother. While "technically" a mother in 2000 when I was pregnant with Will, I'm counting the years they've been pulling on my legs, eating all my food and keeping me up all night.
It's weird, right? I still look 26.
I've shared my motherhood lessons, t-shirts I should make and sell and all sorts of handy tips on this blog in the past three years. But, I thought it might be more fun to share why big families rock. Small families, please take no offense. Here's hoping you giggle, just a little, as you read through these:
TOP TEN: WHY BIG FAMILIES ROCK
1. I no longer worry about leftovers. With two boys who are quickly becoming truck driver eaters and a little sister hot on their heels, I no longer need to raid my Tupperware drawer to store the slim pickins.
2. My children can make pretend play out of anything. Tupperware drawer? Check. Your older brother's homework he worked on for two hours? Yep. An empty roll of duct tape? Done it. A box of maxipads? Hey, a girl has to take a shower sometime and if that's what's left to play with, who am I to argue?
3. Playdates are everyday. I often tell my kids, "If you don't like playing with him/her, just go pick another sibling. Problem solved."
4. I have plenty of people to take care of me when I get old. They do choose my nursing home, so I should remember to be nicer to them.
5. We are prepared for nuclear war on a moment's notice. Between the 8 billion rolls of toilet paper, juice boxes, boxes of soap, frozen food and our garden out back, people will be flocking to MY house for supplies. Forget HEB.
6. In about 20 years, our family reunions are going to be rockin. We may have to rent out the Austin Convention Center, hire a photographer and call the caterer.
7. My children learn cooperation, negotiating skills, patience, ingenuity, humility and a whole host of other lifelong traits on a daily basis just by living life at Casa Whitaker. Yes, I have no doubt other children learn the same things, but mine don't have a choice :)
8. We can finish any project in nothing flat. (Disclaimer: when they all work together). It doesn't hurt that we have a bevy of landscapers, chefs, housekeepers, nurses and entertainers in residence.
9. Teaching the same skill isn't nearly as hard the second, third, fourth and fifth time around. It's called peer pressure.
10. Our house is always a party. Whether we head to the grocery store, the post office, the soccer field or Mass, life is never dull around here. And quite honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. I was born to be a momma of many and I love it.
I pray every momma I know has a really wonderful Mother's Day celebration this weekend. For my sweet friends who struggle with infertility, be strengthened by our prayers. For fellow moms in the trenches, we share your crosses and your joys. For moms who have lost children way too soon, know that your strength and faith are a source of inspiration to many. For moms whose chicks have left the nest, we admire your wisdom and life experience.
It's weird, right? I still look 26.
I've shared my motherhood lessons, t-shirts I should make and sell and all sorts of handy tips on this blog in the past three years. But, I thought it might be more fun to share why big families rock. Small families, please take no offense. Here's hoping you giggle, just a little, as you read through these:
TOP TEN: WHY BIG FAMILIES ROCK
1. I no longer worry about leftovers. With two boys who are quickly becoming truck driver eaters and a little sister hot on their heels, I no longer need to raid my Tupperware drawer to store the slim pickins.
2. My children can make pretend play out of anything. Tupperware drawer? Check. Your older brother's homework he worked on for two hours? Yep. An empty roll of duct tape? Done it. A box of maxipads? Hey, a girl has to take a shower sometime and if that's what's left to play with, who am I to argue?
3. Playdates are everyday. I often tell my kids, "If you don't like playing with him/her, just go pick another sibling. Problem solved."
4. I have plenty of people to take care of me when I get old. They do choose my nursing home, so I should remember to be nicer to them.
5. We are prepared for nuclear war on a moment's notice. Between the 8 billion rolls of toilet paper, juice boxes, boxes of soap, frozen food and our garden out back, people will be flocking to MY house for supplies. Forget HEB.
6. In about 20 years, our family reunions are going to be rockin. We may have to rent out the Austin Convention Center, hire a photographer and call the caterer.
7. My children learn cooperation, negotiating skills, patience, ingenuity, humility and a whole host of other lifelong traits on a daily basis just by living life at Casa Whitaker. Yes, I have no doubt other children learn the same things, but mine don't have a choice :)
8. We can finish any project in nothing flat. (Disclaimer: when they all work together). It doesn't hurt that we have a bevy of landscapers, chefs, housekeepers, nurses and entertainers in residence.
9. Teaching the same skill isn't nearly as hard the second, third, fourth and fifth time around. It's called peer pressure.
10. Our house is always a party. Whether we head to the grocery store, the post office, the soccer field or Mass, life is never dull around here. And quite honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. I was born to be a momma of many and I love it.
I pray every momma I know has a really wonderful Mother's Day celebration this weekend. For my sweet friends who struggle with infertility, be strengthened by our prayers. For fellow moms in the trenches, we share your crosses and your joys. For moms who have lost children way too soon, know that your strength and faith are a source of inspiration to many. For moms whose chicks have left the nest, we admire your wisdom and life experience.
Monday, April 25, 2011
How do you do it? HDYDI
I get that question. A lot. It's usually answered with an, "It depends on the day" or "I don't really know" or "One day at a time."
I remember many years ago, when Will was just an infant in my arms, attending a mom's group at my parish. Around that table sat many years of motherly wisdom. There were moms of 11 children, 6, 4, 3, 1 and everything in between. I'll never forget Debbie, the momma of 11, sharing with us the two pages of prayers her children said every day. It was then I thought to myself, sheez, I can't even do more than a Hail Mary or an Our Father and I only have one bambino.
Then it hit me. One day at a time. One baby at a time. One tradition at a time. One prayer at a time. One lesson of motherhood at a time.
I'm no longer the rookie mom. I don't need BabyCenter.com to send me the newsletters telling me what my 18-month-old should be doing this month, how to handle tantrums or potty train a stubborn toddler. I cancelled my subscription to Parents magazine long ago. Playgroup happens everyday at my house. I actually have learned some things along the way. But, I'm not too proud to realize when I need to reach out to an experienced mom and ask for her advice. There are many waters we have yet to discover: teenage years, high school, prom, first dates, driver's ed, college applications...Yes, lots of living left to do here. Praise the Lord, right?
Every Monday, I thought I'd share some advice, some life lessons I've learned, borrowed, stolen or created in hopes that it might help you. So, here goes...
HDYDI: CHORE CHARTS
We've always had a loose interpretation of a chore chart. It went like this:
Me: Will, did you take out the trash?
W: What? You asked me to take out what?
M: The trash, Will. Remember? I've asked 3 billion times in the last 2 minutes.
W: Huh, didn't hear you? Do I have to? [insert whine here]
M: Get your butt out to the trashcan and help out around the house young man.
W: But, Mom....[more whining, heavy sighing and bellyaching]
It got old. Fast. That, and I got tired of yelling. The kids got tired of it, too.
Enter, the best invention ever made. The Chore Chart. I got this nifty one from EM Tanner Designs. Yes, yes, you can be crafty and make your own. I was lazy. And this one was super de-duper cute.
Every Sunday evening, I fill in the chores assigned to each child. When they complete their chore, they get a check mark. If they don't do it or they do it with sass, they get an "X." If they get two or more "X's" in a week, that translates to no screen time on the weekend. No computer, no Wii, no iPhone, no TV. They don't get screen time during the week (unless they need the computer for school), so this is a BIG deal. Personally, I think every child should have chores, no matter how many you have in your household. It's the first small step in learning responsibility. I typically don't assign chores for Saturday because of the various activities we have going on and the only big Sunday chore is laundry.
Clare is usually paired with somebody to assist, so I'm not super hard on her. But, the school-age kids don't get any slack. For the most part, they do a great job of doing their chores. We've adjusted and tweaked it since we started the system back in January. Oh, and NO they do not get paid to do chores. We call them "Citizen of the Household" or "CoH" duties. It's just the tax you pay, living at home. We all have to pitch in and help. We are considering giving them a small allowance for above and beyond chores. But, that's another Monday HDYDI post, now isn't it?
So far our grade on the chore chart? Winner winner chicken dinner.
I remember many years ago, when Will was just an infant in my arms, attending a mom's group at my parish. Around that table sat many years of motherly wisdom. There were moms of 11 children, 6, 4, 3, 1 and everything in between. I'll never forget Debbie, the momma of 11, sharing with us the two pages of prayers her children said every day. It was then I thought to myself, sheez, I can't even do more than a Hail Mary or an Our Father and I only have one bambino.
Then it hit me. One day at a time. One baby at a time. One tradition at a time. One prayer at a time. One lesson of motherhood at a time.
I'm no longer the rookie mom. I don't need BabyCenter.com to send me the newsletters telling me what my 18-month-old should be doing this month, how to handle tantrums or potty train a stubborn toddler. I cancelled my subscription to Parents magazine long ago. Playgroup happens everyday at my house. I actually have learned some things along the way. But, I'm not too proud to realize when I need to reach out to an experienced mom and ask for her advice. There are many waters we have yet to discover: teenage years, high school, prom, first dates, driver's ed, college applications...Yes, lots of living left to do here. Praise the Lord, right?
Every Monday, I thought I'd share some advice, some life lessons I've learned, borrowed, stolen or created in hopes that it might help you. So, here goes...
HDYDI: CHORE CHARTS
We've always had a loose interpretation of a chore chart. It went like this:
Me: Will, did you take out the trash?
W: What? You asked me to take out what?
M: The trash, Will. Remember? I've asked 3 billion times in the last 2 minutes.
W: Huh, didn't hear you? Do I have to? [insert whine here]
M: Get your butt out to the trashcan and help out around the house young man.
W: But, Mom....[more whining, heavy sighing and bellyaching]
It got old. Fast. That, and I got tired of yelling. The kids got tired of it, too.
Enter, the best invention ever made. The Chore Chart. I got this nifty one from EM Tanner Designs. Yes, yes, you can be crafty and make your own. I was lazy. And this one was super de-duper cute.
Every Sunday evening, I fill in the chores assigned to each child. When they complete their chore, they get a check mark. If they don't do it or they do it with sass, they get an "X." If they get two or more "X's" in a week, that translates to no screen time on the weekend. No computer, no Wii, no iPhone, no TV. They don't get screen time during the week (unless they need the computer for school), so this is a BIG deal. Personally, I think every child should have chores, no matter how many you have in your household. It's the first small step in learning responsibility. I typically don't assign chores for Saturday because of the various activities we have going on and the only big Sunday chore is laundry.
Clare is usually paired with somebody to assist, so I'm not super hard on her. But, the school-age kids don't get any slack. For the most part, they do a great job of doing their chores. We've adjusted and tweaked it since we started the system back in January. Oh, and NO they do not get paid to do chores. We call them "Citizen of the Household" or "CoH" duties. It's just the tax you pay, living at home. We all have to pitch in and help. We are considering giving them a small allowance for above and beyond chores. But, that's another Monday HDYDI post, now isn't it?
So far our grade on the chore chart? Winner winner chicken dinner.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Holy Week Has Begun
Or, as Scott says, "The week when you find out just how much you love the Catholic Church" has arrived. I'll be posting things throughout the week, although technically the computer will be posting them as I'll be signing off on Tuesday until Easter Sunday. Gotta love technology.
I had the honor of lectoring at the Palm Sunday Mass this weekend. I'm glad we divide the readings among four of us, otherwise, I would've broken down in tears. The Passion of the Christ is moving and touching and humbling - not because it is so eloquently written (even though it is) - but because it is real.
Believe it or not, I'm having a difficult time putting into words how much Holy Week means to me as a mom, wife and Christian woman. Perhaps it's because I identify most with Jesus' mother, Mary. Seeing her son in pain must've been physically excruciating. To see him mocked, condemned, beaten and bleeding. What must that have done to her heart?
As we enter into the holiest of weeks I hope you've taken the opportunity to make it count for something. Yes, Easter Sunday will be grand. There will be shouts of Alleluia and white lilies and pretty dresses and hats. He will be risen. But before we get there, prepare your heart. Prepare your soul for the agony and the betrayal and the sacrifice.
Our 40 days of sacrifice are almost at an end.
I had the honor of lectoring at the Palm Sunday Mass this weekend. I'm glad we divide the readings among four of us, otherwise, I would've broken down in tears. The Passion of the Christ is moving and touching and humbling - not because it is so eloquently written (even though it is) - but because it is real.
Believe it or not, I'm having a difficult time putting into words how much Holy Week means to me as a mom, wife and Christian woman. Perhaps it's because I identify most with Jesus' mother, Mary. Seeing her son in pain must've been physically excruciating. To see him mocked, condemned, beaten and bleeding. What must that have done to her heart?
As we enter into the holiest of weeks I hope you've taken the opportunity to make it count for something. Yes, Easter Sunday will be grand. There will be shouts of Alleluia and white lilies and pretty dresses and hats. He will be risen. But before we get there, prepare your heart. Prepare your soul for the agony and the betrayal and the sacrifice.
Our 40 days of sacrifice are almost at an end.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Life isn't fair
Don't we all know that one?!?
I was on the phone, again, with our insurance company this morning and I think I may have unearthed a new passion.
The "rules" really don't apply to NICU babies and special needs kiddos. Exclusions bite. I HATE getting transferred to a different customer service rep everytime I call. Hear me out, I'm not really here to bellyache today. I just had an epiphany after today's conversation with the insurance company.
There really isn't - nor should there be - a "one size fits all" kind of rule for insurance coverage. I think there should be exceptions noted on a case-by-case basis. One thing that our case manager said to me today really struck a chord. She said, "It's not that we discriminate against NICU babies, that just isn't covered."
And for the first time EVER in my life, I felt like my son was being discriminated against. Folks, I'm a girl who has two majors in agriculture, a girl who grew up in the construction business and I talk with a sweet, Southern twang. I've certainly had plenty of opportunities to feel like the underdog. But it wasn't until today that I felt like there was a wrong that needs to be righted. That conversation made me want to change the rules for the millions and millions of babies who are born premature and who don't fit into nice, little neat insurance categories.
I'm not really sure how to take on the beast, but I'll figure out a way. I recognize that Luke's challenges and insurance headaches are a small coin in the bucket compared to millions of other babies. So, if I feel like beating my head against the wall, I know those mommas do too.
Stay tuned for the "kicking hineys and taking names" storyline. I just bet it's gonna be good. They messed with the wrong momma :)
I was on the phone, again, with our insurance company this morning and I think I may have unearthed a new passion.
The "rules" really don't apply to NICU babies and special needs kiddos. Exclusions bite. I HATE getting transferred to a different customer service rep everytime I call. Hear me out, I'm not really here to bellyache today. I just had an epiphany after today's conversation with the insurance company.
There really isn't - nor should there be - a "one size fits all" kind of rule for insurance coverage. I think there should be exceptions noted on a case-by-case basis. One thing that our case manager said to me today really struck a chord. She said, "It's not that we discriminate against NICU babies, that just isn't covered."
And for the first time EVER in my life, I felt like my son was being discriminated against. Folks, I'm a girl who has two majors in agriculture, a girl who grew up in the construction business and I talk with a sweet, Southern twang. I've certainly had plenty of opportunities to feel like the underdog. But it wasn't until today that I felt like there was a wrong that needs to be righted. That conversation made me want to change the rules for the millions and millions of babies who are born premature and who don't fit into nice, little neat insurance categories.
I'm not really sure how to take on the beast, but I'll figure out a way. I recognize that Luke's challenges and insurance headaches are a small coin in the bucket compared to millions of other babies. So, if I feel like beating my head against the wall, I know those mommas do too.
Stay tuned for the "kicking hineys and taking names" storyline. I just bet it's gonna be good. They messed with the wrong momma :)
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
2 Steps Forward, 10 Steps Back
I just don't have the top ten in me today. This week has been awesome and lousy.
AWESOME in that Luke "sortof" graduated from physical therapy. He's walking, squatting and pushing himself to stand on his own, without help from another person or object. We head to the pediatric orthopedist next week and find out a verdict on leg hardware. We are putting his PT on hold because of the "lousy" below.
AWESOME in that last night I was able to briefly share Luke's story and the amazing impact Hand to Hold has had on our family to a crowd of about 125 people, all directly affected by prematurity or infant loss. It was humbling and empowering to be among a group of so many fine people. And, after our setbacks this week, I found I really needed to be in the company of people who understood our struggles, because we all have them.
AWESOME in that I got to take homemade snickerdoodles up to Will's class on Monday and sing "Happy Birthday" to him, along with his classmates. When they found out I brought my famous cookies, they all cheered and Will even gave me a hug. In front of his friends, no less.
AWESOME in that we do NOT owe the government money this year!
But all those awesome's don't make up for this one lousy.
LOUSY in that Luke has officially given up all food. Every last stinking bite. No table food, no goldfish, no yogurt, nada. Zip. Zilch. The only thing he's "eating" is his supplement and probiotics, which he's drinking. Everytime we try giving him something to eat, if in fact he does actually put it in his mouth, he throws it right back up. I'm not talking a little gag and spitting it out. Nope. This is full blown, all over himself, the highchair and out his nose kind of mess. Just two days ago, he's started gagging just at the sight of food.
It pretty much sucks.
Our state-funded therapist is good, she just can't come out to the house often enough. Four times a month isn't going to cut it anymore. As fate would have it, we were at physical therapy on Tuesday morning when I shared our latest struggles with eating. Folks, I have been crying at every meal. Every one. It is excruciating and I hate every minute of seeing Luke struggle. So, when the therapists deemed our situation "emergent" I teared up right then and there. They called the occupational therapist (OT) who is a super fine Aggie and she rearranged some patients so Luke could be evaluated this morning.
It was empowering and eye-opening and disheartening, all in the same breath. Empowering because I finally feel like I have someone who can really help us. Ms. Lori is my new hero. Luke's first official appointment is this Friday. Let the bi-weekly therapies begin. Again. Eye-opening to read about where we are and where we need to be. We have some serious work to do. Disheartening because I am kicking myself wishing I had never given Luke that damn Tamiflu a few weeks ago. That marked our serious decline and it's been rapid ever since. He has some serious oral aversions and sensory issues.
I know. I know. I can't live in the world of "what if's". This IS our reality. Now I know better and will probably be unwilling to give Luke any medication unless it's life threatening. His belly and antibiotics just don't jive.
So...we're still throwing up at every meal, but I am leaning into that reality and starting to accept it. Mealtimes are going to be messy. It's a good thing we gave up eating out for Lent, because we won't be doing it for a long time :)
Pray for us. This is going to be a long road.
AWESOME in that Luke "sortof" graduated from physical therapy. He's walking, squatting and pushing himself to stand on his own, without help from another person or object. We head to the pediatric orthopedist next week and find out a verdict on leg hardware. We are putting his PT on hold because of the "lousy" below.
AWESOME in that last night I was able to briefly share Luke's story and the amazing impact Hand to Hold has had on our family to a crowd of about 125 people, all directly affected by prematurity or infant loss. It was humbling and empowering to be among a group of so many fine people. And, after our setbacks this week, I found I really needed to be in the company of people who understood our struggles, because we all have them.
AWESOME in that I got to take homemade snickerdoodles up to Will's class on Monday and sing "Happy Birthday" to him, along with his classmates. When they found out I brought my famous cookies, they all cheered and Will even gave me a hug. In front of his friends, no less.
AWESOME in that we do NOT owe the government money this year!
But all those awesome's don't make up for this one lousy.
LOUSY in that Luke has officially given up all food. Every last stinking bite. No table food, no goldfish, no yogurt, nada. Zip. Zilch. The only thing he's "eating" is his supplement and probiotics, which he's drinking. Everytime we try giving him something to eat, if in fact he does actually put it in his mouth, he throws it right back up. I'm not talking a little gag and spitting it out. Nope. This is full blown, all over himself, the highchair and out his nose kind of mess. Just two days ago, he's started gagging just at the sight of food.
It pretty much sucks.
Our state-funded therapist is good, she just can't come out to the house often enough. Four times a month isn't going to cut it anymore. As fate would have it, we were at physical therapy on Tuesday morning when I shared our latest struggles with eating. Folks, I have been crying at every meal. Every one. It is excruciating and I hate every minute of seeing Luke struggle. So, when the therapists deemed our situation "emergent" I teared up right then and there. They called the occupational therapist (OT) who is a super fine Aggie and she rearranged some patients so Luke could be evaluated this morning.
It was empowering and eye-opening and disheartening, all in the same breath. Empowering because I finally feel like I have someone who can really help us. Ms. Lori is my new hero. Luke's first official appointment is this Friday. Let the bi-weekly therapies begin. Again. Eye-opening to read about where we are and where we need to be. We have some serious work to do. Disheartening because I am kicking myself wishing I had never given Luke that damn Tamiflu a few weeks ago. That marked our serious decline and it's been rapid ever since. He has some serious oral aversions and sensory issues.
I know. I know. I can't live in the world of "what if's". This IS our reality. Now I know better and will probably be unwilling to give Luke any medication unless it's life threatening. His belly and antibiotics just don't jive.
So...we're still throwing up at every meal, but I am leaning into that reality and starting to accept it. Mealtimes are going to be messy. It's a good thing we gave up eating out for Lent, because we won't be doing it for a long time :)
Pray for us. This is going to be a long road.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Top Ten: Happy 10th Birthday Will!
How did a decade of motherhood go by that quickly? If only the line at HEB would move as swiftly.
At exactly 4:56am ten years ago, Scott and I became parents for the first time. That just doesn't seem possible, you know, considering that we don't look a day over 25.
There are seriously so many things to love about Will. I'll do my best to fit it into a neat and tidy top ten. Here goes...
TOP TEN: THINGS I LOVE ABOUT MY BIGGEST BIG
1. He is so sensitive. Nearly four years ago, Scott and the oldest four were in a horrible car accident. I think it was before the blog's time, so I'll give you a quick recap. Scott had the day off and we planned a great family day—that is, until three other cars and an 18-wheeler rock truck reminded us that life is short. We'd need a diagram to explain it, but Scott and the four kids were struck by a car, who was hit by an 18-wheeler. The police officer on duty kept shaking his head, saying he couldn't believe everyone walked away with just bruises. Just after impact, Will jumped out of the carseat and ran straight to Clare's carseat to check on her. I love that he puts others first.
2. He is so thoughtful. Will always has a million questions and they are usually never easy to answer. I mean, we've talked about childbirth, Hooters, divorce, death and abortion here recently. It is amazing to me how my little boy is turning into a young man with each conversation.
3. He is a peacekeeper. Perhaps it's because he has clocked MANY an hour refereeing fights around here. Whatever the motive, he is a boy whom all his classmates admire. That makes me very proud.
4. He is loving. Just last weekend, he was down at a friend's house shooting hoops. I was heading to the greenhouse to pick up a few more flowers, when I stopped and told him I'd be right back. Without a second's hesitation, he stopped, ran over to the car and gave me a big kiss. In front of all his buddies. As a mom recently shared with me, "Don't ever forget that memory. Hold on to that one." Trust me, Suzanne, I already have that one banked in my reserve.
5. He is a reader. My favorite story about his love for reading was finding him in his closet, sound asleep, with the light on and a book about the saints in his hands. I mean, really. How can you get mad at that sweet scene?
6. He is a perfectionist. Poor thing, that's totally genetic. He has his books in a certain order, his shirts hung correctly in his closet and his backpack organized. Yet, this is also the kid who forgets to change his underwear everyday.
7. He loves sports. Especially the Colts and the Aggies. He cries everytime they lose. That's a lot of tears, folks. He studies the game and knows all the rules, all the players names and all the plays. I think Scott has finally found his partner in sports crime. Thank goodness, because I was doing a really poor job.
8. His laugh. When he gets really tickled, that is the best sound ever. Even better than baby giggles.
9. His love for legos, Harry Potter, Wii, playing outside with his friends and sneaking candy. Just last week I found some wrappers in his socks, to which he replied, "Man, Mom, you know ALL my secrets." Yep.
10. His quirks, his bad habits and his love for his siblings. Really, I love all things Will. Even the ones that drive me to drink that cabernet. I told Scott the other day that I'm going to be really bad in the "letting go" department. For now, we're just trying to squeeze every moment out of childhood that he will let us.
Some of my most favorite Will quotes:
"I want to be an altar server every weekend." When we asked him why (you know, because we were feeling all superior that we had done a really good job in the Catholic upbringing department), he replied, "Because it's quiet. I don't have to mess with all my brothers and sisters."
"When I am President someday, I will shut down all the Hooters."
"That dinner was lip smacking."
"Momma, you wearin' your ship-shops?"
"Oh, look it's the shiretruck."
"Dad, you goin' shishin'?"
Will had a bad habit of replacing the "f" sound with an "sh" sound. I miss that slip :(
And, a few of my favorite Will photos... you knew I wouldn't let you leave without seeing some of this, didn't ya? Ok,maybe more than a *few*. Guess I should've made a video. I'll get right on that.
Happy birthday, Will. I never knew it was possible to love your Dad more, that life could get any sweeter, that I could so instantly fall in love with another human being...until you arrived. Welcome to double digits!
At exactly 4:56am ten years ago, Scott and I became parents for the first time. That just doesn't seem possible, you know, considering that we don't look a day over 25.
There are seriously so many things to love about Will. I'll do my best to fit it into a neat and tidy top ten. Here goes...
TOP TEN: THINGS I LOVE ABOUT MY BIGGEST BIG
1. He is so sensitive. Nearly four years ago, Scott and the oldest four were in a horrible car accident. I think it was before the blog's time, so I'll give you a quick recap. Scott had the day off and we planned a great family day—that is, until three other cars and an 18-wheeler rock truck reminded us that life is short. We'd need a diagram to explain it, but Scott and the four kids were struck by a car, who was hit by an 18-wheeler. The police officer on duty kept shaking his head, saying he couldn't believe everyone walked away with just bruises. Just after impact, Will jumped out of the carseat and ran straight to Clare's carseat to check on her. I love that he puts others first.
2. He is so thoughtful. Will always has a million questions and they are usually never easy to answer. I mean, we've talked about childbirth, Hooters, divorce, death and abortion here recently. It is amazing to me how my little boy is turning into a young man with each conversation.
3. He is a peacekeeper. Perhaps it's because he has clocked MANY an hour refereeing fights around here. Whatever the motive, he is a boy whom all his classmates admire. That makes me very proud.
4. He is loving. Just last weekend, he was down at a friend's house shooting hoops. I was heading to the greenhouse to pick up a few more flowers, when I stopped and told him I'd be right back. Without a second's hesitation, he stopped, ran over to the car and gave me a big kiss. In front of all his buddies. As a mom recently shared with me, "Don't ever forget that memory. Hold on to that one." Trust me, Suzanne, I already have that one banked in my reserve.
5. He is a reader. My favorite story about his love for reading was finding him in his closet, sound asleep, with the light on and a book about the saints in his hands. I mean, really. How can you get mad at that sweet scene?
6. He is a perfectionist. Poor thing, that's totally genetic. He has his books in a certain order, his shirts hung correctly in his closet and his backpack organized. Yet, this is also the kid who forgets to change his underwear everyday.
7. He loves sports. Especially the Colts and the Aggies. He cries everytime they lose. That's a lot of tears, folks. He studies the game and knows all the rules, all the players names and all the plays. I think Scott has finally found his partner in sports crime. Thank goodness, because I was doing a really poor job.
8. His laugh. When he gets really tickled, that is the best sound ever. Even better than baby giggles.
9. His love for legos, Harry Potter, Wii, playing outside with his friends and sneaking candy. Just last week I found some wrappers in his socks, to which he replied, "Man, Mom, you know ALL my secrets." Yep.
10. His quirks, his bad habits and his love for his siblings. Really, I love all things Will. Even the ones that drive me to drink that cabernet. I told Scott the other day that I'm going to be really bad in the "letting go" department. For now, we're just trying to squeeze every moment out of childhood that he will let us.
Some of my most favorite Will quotes:
"I want to be an altar server every weekend." When we asked him why (you know, because we were feeling all superior that we had done a really good job in the Catholic upbringing department), he replied, "Because it's quiet. I don't have to mess with all my brothers and sisters."
"When I am President someday, I will shut down all the Hooters."
"That dinner was lip smacking."
"Momma, you wearin' your ship-shops?"
"Oh, look it's the shiretruck."
"Dad, you goin' shishin'?"
Will had a bad habit of replacing the "f" sound with an "sh" sound. I miss that slip :(
And, a few of my favorite Will photos... you knew I wouldn't let you leave without seeing some of this, didn't ya? Ok,maybe more than a *few*. Guess I should've made a video. I'll get right on that.
Happy birthday, Will. I never knew it was possible to love your Dad more, that life could get any sweeter, that I could so instantly fall in love with another human being...until you arrived. Welcome to double digits!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Spring Breakin'
Praise the Lord. It's spring break in Tejas!! A few bluebonnets (the gorgeous state flower) are starting to make a tiny debut, the temps are in the 70s, sometimes 80s, we don't have to make lunches all week, sign any folders or hound the kids about homework.
Luh-vley.
The bigs are at golf camp in the mornings and the verdict at pick-up after lunch today was, "Camp was awesome, Mom." The thing I totally love about golf is that it is a respectful sport. Coach Lonnie teaches them core values all week, in addition to their swing techniques, driving and putting. They're learning respect, courtesy, honesty and integrity. And, it's a game they can play for life. I just might take a lesson or two this summer so I can play with the hubby!
We have a short day trip planned later in the week, nothing fancy, but it will be great family time. We need that. Well, don't we all?!?
Yesterday, lots of the neighbors and their kids were out and it was like a block party. I loved it. I dig that we finally found a place where a neighborhood resembles the one where I grew up in the panhandle. People actually know each other.
And, I am loving my Lenten gratitude project. I am seriously smiling all day because of it. The complaining is becoming a little less, the gratitude a little more. Ah, Lent is in the air.
Luh-vley.
The bigs are at golf camp in the mornings and the verdict at pick-up after lunch today was, "Camp was awesome, Mom." The thing I totally love about golf is that it is a respectful sport. Coach Lonnie teaches them core values all week, in addition to their swing techniques, driving and putting. They're learning respect, courtesy, honesty and integrity. And, it's a game they can play for life. I just might take a lesson or two this summer so I can play with the hubby!
We have a short day trip planned later in the week, nothing fancy, but it will be great family time. We need that. Well, don't we all?!?
Yesterday, lots of the neighbors and their kids were out and it was like a block party. I loved it. I dig that we finally found a place where a neighborhood resembles the one where I grew up in the panhandle. People actually know each other.
And, I am loving my Lenten gratitude project. I am seriously smiling all day because of it. The complaining is becoming a little less, the gratitude a little more. Ah, Lent is in the air.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Do YOU take Sundays off?
The other night, I was driving in Scott's car listening to one of my favorite shows on XM Radio, "The Busted Halo Show with Fr. Dave Dwyer." (Sidenote: BH is one of my clients and I think Fr. Dave is absolutely hilarious. He's got a pretty cool background with MTV and then became a Paulist Father. His laugh is hysterical. And, he's a perfectionist. We get along splendidly.)
A caller posed this question, "So, do Sundays during Lent count?" Meaning, aren't Sundays in some sense a "little Easter" and a Feast Day, therefore, not falling within the "40 days of Lent"? He and I agree on this one. YES they count. There are many reasons why. He answers them all on this 15-minute podcast on the Busted Halo website.
In case you aren't able to listen to the entire explanation, I'll give you the Cliff Notes:
1. The Lenten season begins on Ash Wednesday and ends on Holy Thursday, the beginning of the Easter Triduum. No, Holy Week is not it's own season. That Monday through Wednesday are technically a part of the Lenten season. Break out your calendars and do the math (I know, I'm an Aggie and I'm explaining math...scary). Lent is actually NOT an exact 40 days. It's more symbolic, as in Jesus walked in the desert and fasted for 40 days, the Israelites wandered for 40 years, Noah was in the ark 40 days...etc., etc. Clearly, 40 is a symbolic number in scripture. So, the "40 days" of Lent is not an exact science.
2. We don't fast or abstain from celebrating Feast Days and Sunday falls within those rules. That's why we don't have Ash Wednesday or Good Friday (both days of abstinence from meat and fasting) on a Sunday. However, during the season of Lent, we fast from certain things in the liturgy, namely singing the "Alleluia." It would make logical sense, then, to continue our Lenten fast (whatever it may be) even on Sundays of Lent. Which, again with the math, is only six days. Come one people. Six days. Surely whatever you gave up you can swing another six days.
3. In a more technical sense, the first Sunday after Ash Wednesday is called...The First Sunday of Lent. Amazing! It's not called The First Sunday of Not Lent. So, even the Sundays are part of Lent.
4. Let's just say that you gave up a vice for Lent, like swearing, gossiping or complaining. Does it really make sense to give it up for six days during the week, then when the Lord's Day comes along to start swearing, gossiping or complaining? Didn't think so.
This is Kathryn talking. Disclaimer: I am no theologian. Just a mom with five kids who are begging to take the Sundays off and I'm not budging. I guess I see it this way. Fish or cut bait. Either fast and give something up for 40 days or don't bother. Make it a sacrifice. Hopefully at the end of the Lenten season you've not only grown closer to God, but you've changed a bad habit or two and refocused your priorities. I'm trying to instill life-long good choices for my kids. The whole, "give it up for six days and then take a day off" doesn't fly with me. We will still rejoice and celebrate on the Sundays of Lent, but that doesn't mean that our fast gets a pass.
Soap box put up :)
A caller posed this question, "So, do Sundays during Lent count?" Meaning, aren't Sundays in some sense a "little Easter" and a Feast Day, therefore, not falling within the "40 days of Lent"? He and I agree on this one. YES they count. There are many reasons why. He answers them all on this 15-minute podcast on the Busted Halo website.
In case you aren't able to listen to the entire explanation, I'll give you the Cliff Notes:
1. The Lenten season begins on Ash Wednesday and ends on Holy Thursday, the beginning of the Easter Triduum. No, Holy Week is not it's own season. That Monday through Wednesday are technically a part of the Lenten season. Break out your calendars and do the math (I know, I'm an Aggie and I'm explaining math...scary). Lent is actually NOT an exact 40 days. It's more symbolic, as in Jesus walked in the desert and fasted for 40 days, the Israelites wandered for 40 years, Noah was in the ark 40 days...etc., etc. Clearly, 40 is a symbolic number in scripture. So, the "40 days" of Lent is not an exact science.
2. We don't fast or abstain from celebrating Feast Days and Sunday falls within those rules. That's why we don't have Ash Wednesday or Good Friday (both days of abstinence from meat and fasting) on a Sunday. However, during the season of Lent, we fast from certain things in the liturgy, namely singing the "Alleluia." It would make logical sense, then, to continue our Lenten fast (whatever it may be) even on Sundays of Lent. Which, again with the math, is only six days. Come one people. Six days. Surely whatever you gave up you can swing another six days.
3. In a more technical sense, the first Sunday after Ash Wednesday is called...The First Sunday of Lent. Amazing! It's not called The First Sunday of Not Lent. So, even the Sundays are part of Lent.
4. Let's just say that you gave up a vice for Lent, like swearing, gossiping or complaining. Does it really make sense to give it up for six days during the week, then when the Lord's Day comes along to start swearing, gossiping or complaining? Didn't think so.
This is Kathryn talking. Disclaimer: I am no theologian. Just a mom with five kids who are begging to take the Sundays off and I'm not budging. I guess I see it this way. Fish or cut bait. Either fast and give something up for 40 days or don't bother. Make it a sacrifice. Hopefully at the end of the Lenten season you've not only grown closer to God, but you've changed a bad habit or two and refocused your priorities. I'm trying to instill life-long good choices for my kids. The whole, "give it up for six days and then take a day off" doesn't fly with me. We will still rejoice and celebrate on the Sundays of Lent, but that doesn't mean that our fast gets a pass.
Soap box put up :)
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Who shook the snowglobe?
Sometimes you just need to laugh hysterically. Like laughing so hard you're crying kind of laugh.
When the kids first started getting sick back in early February, we were like "Oh man, a sick kiddo." Then, 24 hours later, another child went down. Every weekend, we would get to Saturday, do a high-five after seeing the thermometer read 98.6, put up the basket of meds and let out a sigh of relief...only to be suckerpunched on Sunday when yet another child, or two, would get a fever. Repeat x4 weeks.
On Tuesday night, after going through 4 rounds of Flu A and B, 2 rounds of croup, 1 round of a double ear infection, 1 round of the stomach virus and 1 round of strep, I felt yet another hot forehead. I had to stifle the giggle when booking the after-hours doctor appointment. In between calling the doctor and calling Scott, you know what I did?
I called and booked myself a massage for Sunday.
It was either that or pour myself a glass of wine. But, I wasn't sure if the smell of a sweet sauvignon blanc on my breath would be helpful if the doctor caught wind of it. Looking back, I should've poured myself that glass and kept it in the fridge for when I got home.
Oh wait, that IS what I did.
At times I've felt like calling Bill Murray and asking him what it was like to film "Groundhog Day." I'm pretty sure I know. And, I do feel a bit like those fish in the tank with Nemo when the girl starts tapping on the tank. Who disrupted normal?
We are so much more content when things are swimming along, aren't we? It's when the boat gets rocked, that the priorities get shuffled back into the right order, no matter how painful the realignment may be. As I look back (and I am praying we are on the downside, God) I am grateful for the time I had to spend with my children. I am grateful that my clients are understanding as worked slipped down the priority list. I am grateful I have a husband who is so helpful and understanding and awesome. I am grateful we both stayed well. I am grateful for DVRed "Twilight" movies, good neighbors, wine nights with the girls, a few extra hydrocodone I had left from my surgery last year, funny texts and msgs from friends and family and my sense of humor.
Because when you think about it, the snowglobe isn't near as pretty until it's shaken.
When the kids first started getting sick back in early February, we were like "Oh man, a sick kiddo." Then, 24 hours later, another child went down. Every weekend, we would get to Saturday, do a high-five after seeing the thermometer read 98.6, put up the basket of meds and let out a sigh of relief...only to be suckerpunched on Sunday when yet another child, or two, would get a fever. Repeat x4 weeks.
On Tuesday night, after going through 4 rounds of Flu A and B, 2 rounds of croup, 1 round of a double ear infection, 1 round of the stomach virus and 1 round of strep, I felt yet another hot forehead. I had to stifle the giggle when booking the after-hours doctor appointment. In between calling the doctor and calling Scott, you know what I did?
I called and booked myself a massage for Sunday.
It was either that or pour myself a glass of wine. But, I wasn't sure if the smell of a sweet sauvignon blanc on my breath would be helpful if the doctor caught wind of it. Looking back, I should've poured myself that glass and kept it in the fridge for when I got home.
Oh wait, that IS what I did.
At times I've felt like calling Bill Murray and asking him what it was like to film "Groundhog Day." I'm pretty sure I know. And, I do feel a bit like those fish in the tank with Nemo when the girl starts tapping on the tank. Who disrupted normal?
We are so much more content when things are swimming along, aren't we? It's when the boat gets rocked, that the priorities get shuffled back into the right order, no matter how painful the realignment may be. As I look back (and I am praying we are on the downside, God) I am grateful for the time I had to spend with my children. I am grateful that my clients are understanding as worked slipped down the priority list. I am grateful I have a husband who is so helpful and understanding and awesome. I am grateful we both stayed well. I am grateful for DVRed "Twilight" movies, good neighbors, wine nights with the girls, a few extra hydrocodone I had left from my surgery last year, funny texts and msgs from friends and family and my sense of humor.
Because when you think about it, the snowglobe isn't near as pretty until it's shaken.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
40 Days of Love
Lent is almost here. Are you ready? Before I became Catholic, I really didn't pay too much mind to the 40 days preceding the Easter season. We were really more focused on the Easter celebration. If it's really, truly possible to narrow down why I love the faith so much, this is it. Lent. Forty days of honest, raw, self-introspective, shedding all the ickiness and getting back to the basics kind of love. I've found myself appreciating Easter all the more because of what's beginning on Wednesday.
I think it is incredibly easy to get sucked into the vortex of crap. There's after-school activities. Homework. Housework. Playdates. Nights out. Coordinating calendars between kids, work, hubby and school (can you say, nightmare??) Bills. Work. The never-ending list of recorded shows on the DVR. Coming up with creative status' on your FB feed. You feel me?
And along comes Lent. Time to look in the mirror and get refocused on what matters. What matters is different for all of us. For me, this year, it's about gratitude. Scott once shared a great quote he heard at a stewardship conference: "A grateful heart silences a complaining voice."
In the last year, I have had so many prayer requests from friends - loss of a spouse, death of a child, a cancer diagnosis, cross-country moves, broken hearts, broken bodies, broken spirits. Quite honestly, I think my eyes were opened when Luke entered our lives, to the pain people feel just making it day to day. How naive. I never understood, empathized and "got it" until then. My last two years have been my perpetual 40 days. We've just been surviving. Trying to put one foot in front of the other while continuing on with life. Sometimes we put on a good show.
But then there's the day like yesterday when I just felt the wall of Luke's many challenges hit me smack in the face. I called my Hand to Hold mentor and awesome Christian woman, Kelli, and she talked me down from the ledge. Well, her and a 70% off sale at Dillards. Retail therapy, you know. Folks, I was seriously losing it.
In that moment, as I finished wiping away my tears in the mall parking lot, my Lenten promise was affirmed. Gratitude. Gratitude and thankfulness for so many things. And that is what I'll be focusing on this Lent. It transcends so many areas of my life. It makes me unafraid to voice my beliefs, it makes me confident in the person God created me to be and it makes me thankful for the many, many amazing friends God has bestowed upon my family.
So, whether you're Catholic or not, I say jump on the Lenten bandwagon. Find a way - through prayer, fasting and almsgiving - to have the courage to look in the mirror and face the music. I'm exciting about what I'll be doing for the first time in a really, really long time. More details coming on March 23 when I blog about it at Catholic Mothers Online.
40 days baby, bring it.
I think it is incredibly easy to get sucked into the vortex of crap. There's after-school activities. Homework. Housework. Playdates. Nights out. Coordinating calendars between kids, work, hubby and school (can you say, nightmare??) Bills. Work. The never-ending list of recorded shows on the DVR. Coming up with creative status' on your FB feed. You feel me?
And along comes Lent. Time to look in the mirror and get refocused on what matters. What matters is different for all of us. For me, this year, it's about gratitude. Scott once shared a great quote he heard at a stewardship conference: "A grateful heart silences a complaining voice."
In the last year, I have had so many prayer requests from friends - loss of a spouse, death of a child, a cancer diagnosis, cross-country moves, broken hearts, broken bodies, broken spirits. Quite honestly, I think my eyes were opened when Luke entered our lives, to the pain people feel just making it day to day. How naive. I never understood, empathized and "got it" until then. My last two years have been my perpetual 40 days. We've just been surviving. Trying to put one foot in front of the other while continuing on with life. Sometimes we put on a good show.
But then there's the day like yesterday when I just felt the wall of Luke's many challenges hit me smack in the face. I called my Hand to Hold mentor and awesome Christian woman, Kelli, and she talked me down from the ledge. Well, her and a 70% off sale at Dillards. Retail therapy, you know. Folks, I was seriously losing it.
In that moment, as I finished wiping away my tears in the mall parking lot, my Lenten promise was affirmed. Gratitude. Gratitude and thankfulness for so many things. And that is what I'll be focusing on this Lent. It transcends so many areas of my life. It makes me unafraid to voice my beliefs, it makes me confident in the person God created me to be and it makes me thankful for the many, many amazing friends God has bestowed upon my family.
So, whether you're Catholic or not, I say jump on the Lenten bandwagon. Find a way - through prayer, fasting and almsgiving - to have the courage to look in the mirror and face the music. I'm exciting about what I'll be doing for the first time in a really, really long time. More details coming on March 23 when I blog about it at Catholic Mothers Online.
40 days baby, bring it.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Van Talk
I've learned that the three minutes following school pickup - the time it takes for me to get from school to our house - is really precious conversation time with my oldest. He is the most honest, the most forthcoming and the most sensitive in those few raw minutes after a busy day at school. It's in those three minutes that I see Baby Will, the one willing to tell me anything if I just ask. Because he was sick last week, he had quite a bit of front seat time.
Over a series of days, as we shuttled kids back and forth to school, we talked about a lot of things. You'll recall that nearly two years ago, at the tender age of 8, he asked me all about Hooters. Well, this convo was along the same serious lines.
We were in the drive-thru at Starbucks when I saw a text come across my phone. A friend was relaying some information about the latest sonogram bill, up for a vote in the Texas legislature. For my non-Texas friends, this has been HUGE news. It's basically requiring that any woman about to have an abortion must first undergo an ultrasound. She can certainly refuse to look or hear the heartbeat, but lawmakers believe it falls under the 'informed consent' arena. I think I made a comment like, "Why wouldn't they pass that bill?" when Will asked, "What bill, Mom?"
As he quickly approaches his tenth birthday, Scott and I are offering to answer his questions on a bit more adult level. We've never believed in sheltering our kids, but we also choose to share age-appropriate answers. I explained that some woman choose not to have their babies. And while some give them up for adoption, others choose to end the pregnancy.
"But, why would a Mom choose to do that to her baby? Doesn't she love it like we love Luke?"
I then had the arduous task of explaining that the decision is very difficult for some women. And then I encouraged Will to pray for all those moms. Then the car got really quiet.
You know, I don't know what it's like to have to consider abortion. To see it as a viable, possible option. But I know that there are good women out there who see it as their only way out. Out of a billion "ways out of something". It's in that moment that I knew they didn't need our judgment or our criticism. No. They need our prayers. They need to know that by choosing life, they can never choose wrong.
As we grabbed the caramel apple spice from the Starbucks barista that morning, I realized that little by little, all the van rides, dinner chatter and quiet moments with our children - no matter how long they may last - we are shaping and molding our children. I pray that Will grows up to be a man of principle. A faithful man, to His God and to his family.
Over a series of days, as we shuttled kids back and forth to school, we talked about a lot of things. You'll recall that nearly two years ago, at the tender age of 8, he asked me all about Hooters. Well, this convo was along the same serious lines.
We were in the drive-thru at Starbucks when I saw a text come across my phone. A friend was relaying some information about the latest sonogram bill, up for a vote in the Texas legislature. For my non-Texas friends, this has been HUGE news. It's basically requiring that any woman about to have an abortion must first undergo an ultrasound. She can certainly refuse to look or hear the heartbeat, but lawmakers believe it falls under the 'informed consent' arena. I think I made a comment like, "Why wouldn't they pass that bill?" when Will asked, "What bill, Mom?"
As he quickly approaches his tenth birthday, Scott and I are offering to answer his questions on a bit more adult level. We've never believed in sheltering our kids, but we also choose to share age-appropriate answers. I explained that some woman choose not to have their babies. And while some give them up for adoption, others choose to end the pregnancy.
"But, why would a Mom choose to do that to her baby? Doesn't she love it like we love Luke?"
I then had the arduous task of explaining that the decision is very difficult for some women. And then I encouraged Will to pray for all those moms. Then the car got really quiet.
You know, I don't know what it's like to have to consider abortion. To see it as a viable, possible option. But I know that there are good women out there who see it as their only way out. Out of a billion "ways out of something". It's in that moment that I knew they didn't need our judgment or our criticism. No. They need our prayers. They need to know that by choosing life, they can never choose wrong.
As we grabbed the caramel apple spice from the Starbucks barista that morning, I realized that little by little, all the van rides, dinner chatter and quiet moments with our children - no matter how long they may last - we are shaping and molding our children. I pray that Will grows up to be a man of principle. A faithful man, to His God and to his family.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
The End?
One can only hope. Sunday night Luke got a low-grade fever, we gave him some Tylenol and when we checked on him a few hours later, the fever was gone. Whew. Catastrophe avoided.
By noon on Monday, though, the fever was back and by 5pm, it had hit 103.8. I immediately put in a call to the after-hours clinic at our doctor's office. One strep and flu swab later and he tested positive for Flu B.
{saracasm font} I'm SO happy we got flu shots for everyone. They've worked SO well.
I'm not sure we'll ever do them again. Right now, I'm just jaded.
I will say that two people really made our evening in the most unlikely of places. Luke's nurse was a former NICU nurse and she immediately fell in love with him. Who wouldn't, right? She was kind and very thorough. Some people just have a gift and I'm thankful that we had Kim last night. She was incredible. After I arrived home, I handed Luke off to Scott and jetted out to grab some ibuprofen for his fever (because, of course we've gone through three bottles!!). While I was out the doctor called with confirmation of the flu diagnosis and I sped off to People's Pharmacy for the scrip...
Except when I got there at 8:11, the sign on the door said, "Closed." That's just awesome. They closed at 8. I got back on my cell, dialed the doctor and got Kim. LOVE HER. By the time I got to the next pharmacy, the pharmacist was already on it. As a matter of fact, he was on the phone with the doctor because the dosage seemed low to him. There were a line of cars at the drive-thru and several folks milling around the pharmacy. But he made Luke's meds a priority. I almost leapt over that counter and hugged that man. I waited less than seven minutes for the Tamiflu. That Walgreen's pharmacist was one of THE nicest and most compassionate I have ever met. And, trust me, I've met a few.
Luke had a restful night and I am hopeful that the power of the meds will kick in soon. The older three are off to school today and Clare is happily bounding off to little school, as well.
I'm just anxious and worried. Luke lost over a pound with the stomach virus and now the flu isn't helping. Dr. B is not going to be happy with that weight loss. At all. Please God don't let that mean surgery. Please. I have one week to get him chubby. Let's see what prayer, a few avocados and Greek God yogurt can do :)
SWEET STORY: I had the post written and realized I forgot to share. While Kim is taking Luke's history, he's looking pretty puny and laying his head on my shoulder. All of a sudden, he looks up and gives me like ten kisses in a row, smiles and then puts his head back on my shoulder. Kim and I both teared up. I sure do love that boy.
By noon on Monday, though, the fever was back and by 5pm, it had hit 103.8. I immediately put in a call to the after-hours clinic at our doctor's office. One strep and flu swab later and he tested positive for Flu B.
{saracasm font} I'm SO happy we got flu shots for everyone. They've worked SO well.
I'm not sure we'll ever do them again. Right now, I'm just jaded.
I will say that two people really made our evening in the most unlikely of places. Luke's nurse was a former NICU nurse and she immediately fell in love with him. Who wouldn't, right? She was kind and very thorough. Some people just have a gift and I'm thankful that we had Kim last night. She was incredible. After I arrived home, I handed Luke off to Scott and jetted out to grab some ibuprofen for his fever (because, of course we've gone through three bottles!!). While I was out the doctor called with confirmation of the flu diagnosis and I sped off to People's Pharmacy for the scrip...
Except when I got there at 8:11, the sign on the door said, "Closed." That's just awesome. They closed at 8. I got back on my cell, dialed the doctor and got Kim. LOVE HER. By the time I got to the next pharmacy, the pharmacist was already on it. As a matter of fact, he was on the phone with the doctor because the dosage seemed low to him. There were a line of cars at the drive-thru and several folks milling around the pharmacy. But he made Luke's meds a priority. I almost leapt over that counter and hugged that man. I waited less than seven minutes for the Tamiflu. That Walgreen's pharmacist was one of THE nicest and most compassionate I have ever met. And, trust me, I've met a few.
Luke had a restful night and I am hopeful that the power of the meds will kick in soon. The older three are off to school today and Clare is happily bounding off to little school, as well.
I'm just anxious and worried. Luke lost over a pound with the stomach virus and now the flu isn't helping. Dr. B is not going to be happy with that weight loss. At all. Please God don't let that mean surgery. Please. I have one week to get him chubby. Let's see what prayer, a few avocados and Greek God yogurt can do :)
SWEET STORY: I had the post written and realized I forgot to share. While Kim is taking Luke's history, he's looking pretty puny and laying his head on my shoulder. All of a sudden, he looks up and gives me like ten kisses in a row, smiles and then puts his head back on my shoulder. Kim and I both teared up. I sure do love that boy.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
What a month
Scott and I sat down to chat this evening for the first time in several days - you know, a meaningful conversation! - and we both commented on what a really junky month February has been. As fate would have it, two more boys got fevers this weekend and we finally threw in the towel. I'm getting the house cleaned tomorrow and hopefully we can get this "junk" officially gone.
It's my hope to get some great posts up on the blog this week: a recap of the basketball season, Will's upcoming 10yo trip, Lenten preparations and some fun quotes.
All I know is this...life is crazy busy here. And there are so many things brewing in the pot. So many decisions to be made, papers to be signed, work to finish, honey-do projects lingering. We will get to them all in good time. What I'm most looking forward to is Lent. I've been thinking and praying quite a bit about what to give up, what to take on and how to make it count this year. I'm really looking forward to sharing that insight with you this week.
Oh, and I most definitely married up. Scott is just amazing. I love that boy to pieces.
Make it a great week!
It's my hope to get some great posts up on the blog this week: a recap of the basketball season, Will's upcoming 10yo trip, Lenten preparations and some fun quotes.
All I know is this...life is crazy busy here. And there are so many things brewing in the pot. So many decisions to be made, papers to be signed, work to finish, honey-do projects lingering. We will get to them all in good time. What I'm most looking forward to is Lent. I've been thinking and praying quite a bit about what to give up, what to take on and how to make it count this year. I'm really looking forward to sharing that insight with you this week.
Oh, and I most definitely married up. Scott is just amazing. I love that boy to pieces.
Make it a great week!
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