I finished one of my summer classes this week and managed to pass the class with an "A." I still have one more class to finish, which stops right before the Fall semester begins.
Now I'm trying to get caught up on housework, yardwork and home repairs. Next week, I'm having the breezeway between the house and the garage tiled. No more ugly apartment carpet! I have two big projects left on my list...installing hardwood in the girl's room, and remodeling the boy's bathroom. Don't know how I'm going to fit those into the budget, but I guess we'll see how it goes. My list of home repairs is about 37 items long. Then there's painting and refreshing the inside and the outside of the house.
Where in the world did I put that magic wand?
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Prayer Works
The other day, Johnny was complaining to me that Kelly didn't like him. Loudly. A short time later, when he had calmed down, I reminded him of a family story about prayer.
When I was pregnant with Laine, they told me it was a girl, but since I've known several people to be surprised when the opposite gender child popped out at the end of nine months, I always told the children that the doctor said it was one sex, but it could be the other. We always selected names for both sexes. So when I was pregnant with Laine, I told Joe and Kelly that if we had a girl, the baby would be called Mary, and if it was a boy, the baby would be called Johnny. (I should probably explain that Laine's name is Mary Elaine, but we always intended to call her Laine as her nickname.) Laine was going to be our last baby...no more after her.
When I had Laine, Kelly came to visit at the hospital. At three years old, she always said what she thought. She thought Laine was really cute, and she was really happy to see her. She held her and sang to her and got really jealous when Erin held her. She told Joe to be careful when he was holding his new baby sister. Then when it was time to go home, she became very agitated. When I asked her what was wrong, she kept asking "What about Johnny?" I tried to explain to her that the baby could have been a boy or a girl, but we had a girl baby, and there was no boy baby. She was still upset and began to cry when we got into the car without Johnny. I finally calmed her down.
Yet everyday after that, anytime Kelly said a prayer, she prayed that Johnny would come to our family. She prayed that her little brother could be born. She asked that she could see her little brother and hold him. She asked at bedtime, and in the morning, and at meals. She asked in her prayers in her classes at church, too.
I was actively trying to prevent getting pregnant, not because I didn't want any more children, but because the stress in our home was enormous. Well, after about one year of Kelly's constant prayers, I found out that I was pregnant, and Johnny came into our family 21 months after Laine. Right from the start, Kelly was convinced that her little brother was the cutest little guy she had ever seen, except for bubba Joe. He was loved immediately by all of us!
Now when I told this story to Johnny, his countenance brightened. And now, when he's feeling upset with Kelly, I just remind him that she prayed him into our family, and she does love him.
Prayer works, my friends. Johnny is living proof.
When I was pregnant with Laine, they told me it was a girl, but since I've known several people to be surprised when the opposite gender child popped out at the end of nine months, I always told the children that the doctor said it was one sex, but it could be the other. We always selected names for both sexes. So when I was pregnant with Laine, I told Joe and Kelly that if we had a girl, the baby would be called Mary, and if it was a boy, the baby would be called Johnny. (I should probably explain that Laine's name is Mary Elaine, but we always intended to call her Laine as her nickname.) Laine was going to be our last baby...no more after her.
When I had Laine, Kelly came to visit at the hospital. At three years old, she always said what she thought. She thought Laine was really cute, and she was really happy to see her. She held her and sang to her and got really jealous when Erin held her. She told Joe to be careful when he was holding his new baby sister. Then when it was time to go home, she became very agitated. When I asked her what was wrong, she kept asking "What about Johnny?" I tried to explain to her that the baby could have been a boy or a girl, but we had a girl baby, and there was no boy baby. She was still upset and began to cry when we got into the car without Johnny. I finally calmed her down.
Yet everyday after that, anytime Kelly said a prayer, she prayed that Johnny would come to our family. She prayed that her little brother could be born. She asked that she could see her little brother and hold him. She asked at bedtime, and in the morning, and at meals. She asked in her prayers in her classes at church, too.
I was actively trying to prevent getting pregnant, not because I didn't want any more children, but because the stress in our home was enormous. Well, after about one year of Kelly's constant prayers, I found out that I was pregnant, and Johnny came into our family 21 months after Laine. Right from the start, Kelly was convinced that her little brother was the cutest little guy she had ever seen, except for bubba Joe. He was loved immediately by all of us!
Now when I told this story to Johnny, his countenance brightened. And now, when he's feeling upset with Kelly, I just remind him that she prayed him into our family, and she does love him.
Prayer works, my friends. Johnny is living proof.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Small Miracles
Yesterday, I tackled my closet. And when I say tackled, I mean it. I keep all of my paints, clay, craft supplies, sewing supplies, and yarn in my closet in addition to my clothes. Over the past six months as I've been preoccupied with school, Kelly (and the other kids, but mostly Kelly) has been helping herself to whatever is in the closet, which wouldn't be so bad if she returned things to where she got them, and put other things back that she moved out of the way or tidied up in the slightest. Let's just say, that's a dream that's unlikely to hit reality until she has her own kids and starts to realize how disorganization consumes life.
Anyway, my closet was a complete and utter disaster. As I was working, I was fighting my tendency to give up on projects that seem too overwhelming. It causes this depression and a kind of paralysis when I am faced with a task that huge. Nevertheless, I pressed forward and about the time that I was feeling super discouraged, I found a basket filled with miscellaneous items that needed sorting. I sat down at the table to clear it out, and when I dumped it on the table, I noticed something sparkly still stuck in the basket. Upon closer examination, I discovered much to my shock and pleasure, that the ring that I had put in my purse to get sized (right before it was stolen from my car) was THERE!
Stuck in this basket was a small miracle. Now this is not an expensive ring. It has a "blue" pearl and the teeniest of diamonds set in a simple gold setting, but I've used it since I first received it to remind myself of God's love for me, that each person is a pearl of great price in his eyes, and that I should value myself and everyone I meet. It's also symbolic of the gospel to me. When I happened upon this ring, I felt certain that it was God reminding me of all of my blessings, and his sure knowledge of the things that give me pleasure. I know it was a small thing, but to have thought these several months that it was gone forever, and then to find it in a place where it ought not to have been, gave me such peaceful joy. He truly knows our hearts!
Anyway, my closet was a complete and utter disaster. As I was working, I was fighting my tendency to give up on projects that seem too overwhelming. It causes this depression and a kind of paralysis when I am faced with a task that huge. Nevertheless, I pressed forward and about the time that I was feeling super discouraged, I found a basket filled with miscellaneous items that needed sorting. I sat down at the table to clear it out, and when I dumped it on the table, I noticed something sparkly still stuck in the basket. Upon closer examination, I discovered much to my shock and pleasure, that the ring that I had put in my purse to get sized (right before it was stolen from my car) was THERE!
Stuck in this basket was a small miracle. Now this is not an expensive ring. It has a "blue" pearl and the teeniest of diamonds set in a simple gold setting, but I've used it since I first received it to remind myself of God's love for me, that each person is a pearl of great price in his eyes, and that I should value myself and everyone I meet. It's also symbolic of the gospel to me. When I happened upon this ring, I felt certain that it was God reminding me of all of my blessings, and his sure knowledge of the things that give me pleasure. I know it was a small thing, but to have thought these several months that it was gone forever, and then to find it in a place where it ought not to have been, gave me such peaceful joy. He truly knows our hearts!
Friday, July 15, 2011
The Harry Potter Scar
This week is the release of the final movie of Harry Potter. My kids and I have loved the books and then the movies since it first came out in the same year that Joe was born. We've eagerly anticipated each new book and each new movie. It's sad to see it come to a close. I haven't seen the latest movie yet...midnight showings were sold out before I could get tickets, and the kids are with their dad this weekend.
One of the reasons why Harry Potter is so popular in our house is because of what happened to Joe when he was 4, 2.5 months before he turned 5. At the time, some friends of mine and I were doing a "home school" preschool. We took turns having the kids at our homes a few days a week. This particular week, it was Holly's turn to host the children. She was living with her mother in law, mother of nine (I think).
I had been up all night because my two youngest (2.5 and 1) had been sick the day before and partly through the night, cranky and uncomfortable. I decided not to send Joe to pre-school that morning, because I didn't want to wake the younger children who had finally gone to sleep, and I was too pooped to pop. Patrick had left town early that morning to do an interview. I was cranky, too. My friend Lora called and suggested that she take Joe to preschool, which at first I was hesitant about, but then decided it would be a quiet, boring morning for him if he didn't go.
Well, about 10 in the morning, in the middle of changing my two youngest (again!), I received a call from Holly's mother-in-law. Very calmly and sweetly, she told me that I needed to come right away to their house because Joe had had an accident. At first, I was thinking, oh...he wet his pants, or maybe he's sick now, too. I asked her what sort of accident. She said, it's very serious and we've already called the ambulance. Now when someone who has had that many children tells you something is serious, all sorts of thoughts run through your head. I'm thinking...AMBULANCE?!? I put my children into the van in just their diapers, and drove as fast as I dared to their home. Cars in front of me seemed to be crawling along, and I'm afraid I wasn't very patient with them as I simultaneously prayed that my little son would be okay. I also phoned Patrick and explained to him what was going on. He said he would head back to Fresno.
I pulled up in front of their house. The ambulance was already there. I left my two youngest in the van and ran inside. When I walked in, I noticed several things. First of all, Joe's head was completely bandaged around his forehead area and covering one eye. Second, his shirt, covered in blood, was nearby, cut off his body. Third, there were towels covered in blood, and they were about to put my little guy on a back board. He was concious, and when he saw me, he moved to my lap as quick as he could. The EMT's began asking me questions about his medical history, and asking me where they should take him. I wasn't processing anything. I felt panic even worse than when I first received the call as I heard words like "concussion," "head trauma," and "potential brain damage." I looked across the room at Brother Ensign, who was in the temple presidency. Seeing him there strengthened me, and reminded me that I wasn't alone, and had the power of the priesthood at my disposal. I asked the EMT's to repeat everything, and as we sorted everything out, they said I could ride with Joe to the hospital. I asked Brother Ensign to give Joe a blessing before we left, which he did. I felt much calmer after that. I asked Holly if she could watch my kids and we walked out to the van together, where she told me what had happened.
He had been playing with the tether-ball mounted on a tire in the back yard, and the pole somehow fell and hit him on the head. She had been inside checking on something, and Joe walked in the back door, covered in blood. I can't even imagine the terror she must have felt. I'm so grateful for her quick response in getting help.
In the ambulance, the EMT suggested that we start an IV so that in case surgery was required, they would be able to do so more quickly. I tried to explain to Joe what was going to happen, and told him it might hurt a little, and that he could scream if he wanted. He did want to. I think people three blocks away could have heard him. I tried to distract him with his "ET finger," the pulse device they put on his finger to measure oxygen saturation and his pulse, because it was all lit up like ET's finger in the movie.
At the hospital, they did some diagnostic tests to see if Joe had a concussion. They asked me if he was behaving normally, a question which seemed odd to me since nothing about this situation was normal for either one of us. They determined that he did not have any fractures, and then they decided to take him off the backboard, which made all of us much happier. They took off the bandages and began to clean the wound. I almost passed out when I saw his head. I could literally see his skull as they moved the skin about to see what the extent of the injury was. Joe's eye was already turning black, he had cuts on his face besides the big one on his head, and the other eye was also turning black in the corner, probably from all the swelling. I felt badly for Joe, and I also was concerned about his perfect little face having a permanent scar. Looking back, I can see what a trivial concern that was, but at the time, it was one more concern I had.
They decided to use a process called concious sedation since he was already on an IV. They administered the medication, and mid-sentence, my son stopped talking and seemed to be sleeping. They had to do three layers of stitches because the injury went through all the layers of the skin to the skull. All total, he had 42 stitches. Just as they finished the stitches, Joe woke up, and strangely enough, finished the sentence he had been saying when he fell asleep. They kept him in the hospital for a few hours, just to observe him and make sure he was okay, and eventually sent us home.
That was the scariest thing I've ever been through as a mother. We referred to his scar as his "Harry Potter Scar" to all of his friends and family, to relieve some of the stigma he might have felt as people asked him what happened over and over again. Guess what costume Joe chose for Halloween for many years after that? Harry Potter!
One of the reasons why Harry Potter is so popular in our house is because of what happened to Joe when he was 4, 2.5 months before he turned 5. At the time, some friends of mine and I were doing a "home school" preschool. We took turns having the kids at our homes a few days a week. This particular week, it was Holly's turn to host the children. She was living with her mother in law, mother of nine (I think).
I had been up all night because my two youngest (2.5 and 1) had been sick the day before and partly through the night, cranky and uncomfortable. I decided not to send Joe to pre-school that morning, because I didn't want to wake the younger children who had finally gone to sleep, and I was too pooped to pop. Patrick had left town early that morning to do an interview. I was cranky, too. My friend Lora called and suggested that she take Joe to preschool, which at first I was hesitant about, but then decided it would be a quiet, boring morning for him if he didn't go.
Well, about 10 in the morning, in the middle of changing my two youngest (again!), I received a call from Holly's mother-in-law. Very calmly and sweetly, she told me that I needed to come right away to their house because Joe had had an accident. At first, I was thinking, oh...he wet his pants, or maybe he's sick now, too. I asked her what sort of accident. She said, it's very serious and we've already called the ambulance. Now when someone who has had that many children tells you something is serious, all sorts of thoughts run through your head. I'm thinking...AMBULANCE?!? I put my children into the van in just their diapers, and drove as fast as I dared to their home. Cars in front of me seemed to be crawling along, and I'm afraid I wasn't very patient with them as I simultaneously prayed that my little son would be okay. I also phoned Patrick and explained to him what was going on. He said he would head back to Fresno.
I pulled up in front of their house. The ambulance was already there. I left my two youngest in the van and ran inside. When I walked in, I noticed several things. First of all, Joe's head was completely bandaged around his forehead area and covering one eye. Second, his shirt, covered in blood, was nearby, cut off his body. Third, there were towels covered in blood, and they were about to put my little guy on a back board. He was concious, and when he saw me, he moved to my lap as quick as he could. The EMT's began asking me questions about his medical history, and asking me where they should take him. I wasn't processing anything. I felt panic even worse than when I first received the call as I heard words like "concussion," "head trauma," and "potential brain damage." I looked across the room at Brother Ensign, who was in the temple presidency. Seeing him there strengthened me, and reminded me that I wasn't alone, and had the power of the priesthood at my disposal. I asked the EMT's to repeat everything, and as we sorted everything out, they said I could ride with Joe to the hospital. I asked Brother Ensign to give Joe a blessing before we left, which he did. I felt much calmer after that. I asked Holly if she could watch my kids and we walked out to the van together, where she told me what had happened.
He had been playing with the tether-ball mounted on a tire in the back yard, and the pole somehow fell and hit him on the head. She had been inside checking on something, and Joe walked in the back door, covered in blood. I can't even imagine the terror she must have felt. I'm so grateful for her quick response in getting help.
In the ambulance, the EMT suggested that we start an IV so that in case surgery was required, they would be able to do so more quickly. I tried to explain to Joe what was going to happen, and told him it might hurt a little, and that he could scream if he wanted. He did want to. I think people three blocks away could have heard him. I tried to distract him with his "ET finger," the pulse device they put on his finger to measure oxygen saturation and his pulse, because it was all lit up like ET's finger in the movie.
At the hospital, they did some diagnostic tests to see if Joe had a concussion. They asked me if he was behaving normally, a question which seemed odd to me since nothing about this situation was normal for either one of us. They determined that he did not have any fractures, and then they decided to take him off the backboard, which made all of us much happier. They took off the bandages and began to clean the wound. I almost passed out when I saw his head. I could literally see his skull as they moved the skin about to see what the extent of the injury was. Joe's eye was already turning black, he had cuts on his face besides the big one on his head, and the other eye was also turning black in the corner, probably from all the swelling. I felt badly for Joe, and I also was concerned about his perfect little face having a permanent scar. Looking back, I can see what a trivial concern that was, but at the time, it was one more concern I had.
They decided to use a process called concious sedation since he was already on an IV. They administered the medication, and mid-sentence, my son stopped talking and seemed to be sleeping. They had to do three layers of stitches because the injury went through all the layers of the skin to the skull. All total, he had 42 stitches. Just as they finished the stitches, Joe woke up, and strangely enough, finished the sentence he had been saying when he fell asleep. They kept him in the hospital for a few hours, just to observe him and make sure he was okay, and eventually sent us home.
That was the scariest thing I've ever been through as a mother. We referred to his scar as his "Harry Potter Scar" to all of his friends and family, to relieve some of the stigma he might have felt as people asked him what happened over and over again. Guess what costume Joe chose for Halloween for many years after that? Harry Potter!
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Nice - A four letter word
All my life I've been plagued with it. It seems like a vanilla term for, "Sure, I can tolerate you, but I'd really rather have chocolate (or strawberry, or chocolate malted crunch - anything but you!).
Nice implies you aren't beautiful, or pretty, or sexy. Nice says, "I go out of my way to make sure others are happy." Nice doesn't offend. It's the word guys use when a woman isn't enough of something...not beautiful enough, not skinny enough, not blond enough. Women use it in almost the same way about men, at times.
Usually the word is offered by people who mean well. They want to say something positive, but don't really know what else to say. I can't fault them for it. I'm not upset or offended when someone uses it. It just seems like the bane of my existence. Should I be a little less nice?
Nice gets attached to parties without pizzaz, music without sparkle, drawings without the wow factor.
Nice. Not quite an insult. Not quite a compliment.
Nice implies you aren't beautiful, or pretty, or sexy. Nice says, "I go out of my way to make sure others are happy." Nice doesn't offend. It's the word guys use when a woman isn't enough of something...not beautiful enough, not skinny enough, not blond enough. Women use it in almost the same way about men, at times.
Usually the word is offered by people who mean well. They want to say something positive, but don't really know what else to say. I can't fault them for it. I'm not upset or offended when someone uses it. It just seems like the bane of my existence. Should I be a little less nice?
Nice gets attached to parties without pizzaz, music without sparkle, drawings without the wow factor.
Nice. Not quite an insult. Not quite a compliment.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Laine Turns 12!
My youngest daughter just turned 12. It's a bittersweet day, for sure.
I remember going into labor with her on the fourth of July, which that year happened to occur on a Sunday. My back had been hurting all day, and the fireworks had upset my schnauzer (Lucy) to the point that she had hurt herself on the gate, cutting her paw open. I put the dog on the bed and was trying to clean and debris the wound, and I couldn't get over how much my back hurt. I knew it couldn't be labor (wink, wink), because with Joe and Kelly I was exactly one week past my due date before I went into labor, I still had five days to go before she was due, and I knew what contractions felt like. After a few hours, the pain in my back became too intense to ignore, and I found myself frantically packing a bag to go to the hospital. When I arrived at the hospital, I discovered that I was in labor, all right...back labor because Laine was turned the opposite way from the way she was supposed to come out. Because the pain was so intense, they decided to give me an epidural, but they had to do lab work first. I grabbed the doctor's arm and told him, "I want the epidural NOW." I think he knew I wasn't kidding at that point, because he did what I asked. Laine turned around the right direction on her own and labor became much easier at that point. She made her appearance on Monday morning.
She has always been such a joy to me. She was the snugly daughter I always wanted (since Kelly was anti-snuggling), charming and full of energy. She was the earliest "laugher" in our family. She was always smiling and giggling about something. When she was upset about something, it was easy to calm her with touch...she loved for me to trace little patterns lightly on her hands, rub her neck, scratch her back or tickle her arms. (All those things are still true!) She has turned out to be a smart child, helpful, organized and conscientious in all that she does. She has a keen intellect, a personable nature, and a kind heart. She can sing beautifully and has tremendous acting ability as well.
I'm so blessed to have her sweet spirit in my home!
I remember going into labor with her on the fourth of July, which that year happened to occur on a Sunday. My back had been hurting all day, and the fireworks had upset my schnauzer (Lucy) to the point that she had hurt herself on the gate, cutting her paw open. I put the dog on the bed and was trying to clean and debris the wound, and I couldn't get over how much my back hurt. I knew it couldn't be labor (wink, wink), because with Joe and Kelly I was exactly one week past my due date before I went into labor, I still had five days to go before she was due, and I knew what contractions felt like. After a few hours, the pain in my back became too intense to ignore, and I found myself frantically packing a bag to go to the hospital. When I arrived at the hospital, I discovered that I was in labor, all right...back labor because Laine was turned the opposite way from the way she was supposed to come out. Because the pain was so intense, they decided to give me an epidural, but they had to do lab work first. I grabbed the doctor's arm and told him, "I want the epidural NOW." I think he knew I wasn't kidding at that point, because he did what I asked. Laine turned around the right direction on her own and labor became much easier at that point. She made her appearance on Monday morning.
She has always been such a joy to me. She was the snugly daughter I always wanted (since Kelly was anti-snuggling), charming and full of energy. She was the earliest "laugher" in our family. She was always smiling and giggling about something. When she was upset about something, it was easy to calm her with touch...she loved for me to trace little patterns lightly on her hands, rub her neck, scratch her back or tickle her arms. (All those things are still true!) She has turned out to be a smart child, helpful, organized and conscientious in all that she does. She has a keen intellect, a personable nature, and a kind heart. She can sing beautifully and has tremendous acting ability as well.
I'm so blessed to have her sweet spirit in my home!
Friday, July 1, 2011
July?? How did that happen??
Sheez. Time is speeding up in a BIG way!
The first day of July began with a "bang." We woke up early and prepared for a photo session. It occurred to me as I looked around my house that all the photos (family or otherwise) have really cute, adorable little children, all under ten, and I looked around at my kids and realized it was time for some new photos. Joe just turned 14, Laine is about to turn 12 on Tuesday, Johnny is 10, and Kelly turns 16 in September. Holly agreed to try to get some decent photos. I can't wait to see them! If they're any good, I'll post a few here.
Afterward, we went straight to Poverello house for an orientation. Our family is trying to do a summer of service. We spend each Tuesday morning at the Bishop's storehouse volunteering to fill orders of food for needy members of the community. Our plan is to add spending Friday mornings working down at the Poverello house actually serving food to needy people in our community. So far, these are the only opportunities I have found that will take children under 16. I'm still looking! We are also learning to make hats and blankets for a humanitarian project.
This afternoon, I fell asleep on the couch...remnants of yesterday's exhaustion, I think. Kelly and Joe have temple service tomorrow morning at 5:30, then in the afternoon, Joe heads off to Scout Camp. My girls will leave for camp next week...Kelly on Monday and Laine on Tuesday. She's devastated that she has to leave on her birthday. I hope she enjoys herself.
I hope this month doesn't fly by too fast...I am enjoying my children immensely!
The first day of July began with a "bang." We woke up early and prepared for a photo session. It occurred to me as I looked around my house that all the photos (family or otherwise) have really cute, adorable little children, all under ten, and I looked around at my kids and realized it was time for some new photos. Joe just turned 14, Laine is about to turn 12 on Tuesday, Johnny is 10, and Kelly turns 16 in September. Holly agreed to try to get some decent photos. I can't wait to see them! If they're any good, I'll post a few here.
Afterward, we went straight to Poverello house for an orientation. Our family is trying to do a summer of service. We spend each Tuesday morning at the Bishop's storehouse volunteering to fill orders of food for needy members of the community. Our plan is to add spending Friday mornings working down at the Poverello house actually serving food to needy people in our community. So far, these are the only opportunities I have found that will take children under 16. I'm still looking! We are also learning to make hats and blankets for a humanitarian project.
This afternoon, I fell asleep on the couch...remnants of yesterday's exhaustion, I think. Kelly and Joe have temple service tomorrow morning at 5:30, then in the afternoon, Joe heads off to Scout Camp. My girls will leave for camp next week...Kelly on Monday and Laine on Tuesday. She's devastated that she has to leave on her birthday. I hope she enjoys herself.
I hope this month doesn't fly by too fast...I am enjoying my children immensely!
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