I Can't Keep Track of Myself

What have I been doing since my last post?

Let's talk numbers:

2 classes: attended without my mom purse, but with my cool notebook

0 laptops: appearing in said classes

39 flashcards: containing various Mandarin (Chinese) phrases, sentences, or words

24 flashcards: correct on my last run-through

3 pages: notes written for the Sunday School class I am teaching, uh, this morning...

15 raisins: removed from a load of wash before putting it in the dryer

7 desserts: eaten so far this week... sigh...

40 minutes: total exercise time this week... bleh...

3 guests: at our house for dinner on Friday

2 bids: lost on E-bay for homeschooling items

5 bids: currently winning on E-bay for homeschooling items

1 item: purchased from a used curriculum site

41 times: I've thought, used curriculum rocks like all get-out.

2 calls: to the bank to try to get my account verified with Paypal.

1,429,385 times: I have had the SAME. EX. ACT. conversation with Ms. Bao about the underwear she wants to start wearing and how YES, Ms. Boo wears underwear, but that is because she puts all her potty in the toilet.

1,429,384 times: Ms. Boo has asked if we could stop having that conversation.

421 times: Ms. Bao has asked to use the toilet - right AFTER she wets her diaper.

3 pairs: underwear purchased for the Baoster in hopes that feeling wet when she pees in them will motivate her to start using the toilet.

1 chapter: read in What the Bible Says About Parenting

1 gazillion things: I read that I heartily agreed with

Next Time, I'm Calling the Plumber

My husband's best friend and his wife showed up this evening, unannounced, to drop something off before they went out for a date. I'm not sure what they might have been thinking when they approached me, but I can imagine. At that moment, I was standing on the front lawn amidst a slew of sleeping bags, clothing, toys, books, trash and the like, frantically waving a vacuum cleaner hose.

Jason, ever the cheerful fellow (I swear he fakes it) asks, "How are you this evening, Lori?"

I looked up and saw the two of them standing there. Then, blowing hair out of my face, I said, "Just fine. Our toilet has been completely removed from the bathroom floor, my van just threw up all over my lawn, and my vacuum cleaner is clogged."

I had already been in the bathroom helping Paul. Apparantly a child, who shall remain nameless, flushed a (toy) cell phone down the toilet after another child, who shall also remain nameless, threw it (and a sock) in the toilet. From what I gather, an attempt was made at retrieving the phone, but when that failed, unnamed #1 thought it best to just flush and be done with it.

And they were done with it. Paul and I, of course, were not. Though I managed to retrieve the sock, the cell phone remained lodged in the toilet.

Now, I am not sure what it is about making decsions about spending money that so paralyzes Paul and me, but whenever we have to call "professionals" to fix something, it's like every last brain cell starts shrieking "nooooooooo!" in unison.

We even listen to the screaming for a while, but we don't actually try to fix the problem. We just sort of pass our standard waiting period by pretending the problem isn't that bad, or that perhaps it will go away.

Which, of course, did not happen.

But instead of breaking down and calling the plumber, I suggested to Paul that we pull up the toilet and try to retrieve the cell phone ourselves. All it would cost us would be our time and a new wax ring. So, as I headed out to pick up a library book today, Paul mentioned that I should stop by the hardware store and pick up that wax ring.

And this evening, at the same time that I decided to clean out the van, Paul decided he would tackle the toilet. This would not be such a big deal except that just after I'd hurled every sippy cup known to man and every piece of Sunday school art from the last year onto the front lawn, Paul needed my help.

What I need to remind you is that, it had been over 24 hours since the phone was actually flushed down the toilet and, while we had taken Measures, we didn't exactly restrict toilet usage. So, there was still some uh, liquid, in the toilet. And some solids as well.

Actually, a LOT of solids.

Would you like to guess who got to play "fish for the cell phone"? Mind you, there was a glove involved, but let's just say that it's protective barrier left a bit to be desired.

I pulled a great deal out of that toilet. None of it was of the "cell phone" variety.

After much hemming and hawing, we determined that Paul would have to go to Home Depot and get us a new toilet. While he was off on that errand, I added to my pile on the lawn and almost disowned two children who decided that this was the time that they just HAD to PLAY in the VAN!

And thank you neighbor girl for coming over and asking if they could play.

Yes! YES! Sweet mercy, YES!

So I resumed my effort to improve property values in our neighborhood by unloading several bags of clothing, coloring books, and lollipop sticks.... what in SAM HILL with all the lollipop sticks?

When Paul returned with the new toilet, I went back in to help him. If you'd like to know how that went, I'll just remind you that the last time we did a toilet repair it took us 45 minutes. And that was just putting on a new lid. Just the LID.

That very same lid had to be moved to the new toilet, but that was only a fraction of tonight's job. (And don't think for a moment that we didn't encounter the same problems with that lid that we had last time.)

(I am so not kidding.)

Once we cleaned up the mess in the bathroom and the mess on the lawn, Paul carried the old toilet outside and set it by the trash can. Fearing that the trash man would not be too excited about the substances that remained in the toilet, I flipped it over and started to hose it down. For the first time I had a clear view of that little green and blue phone lodged inside the toilet.

But toilets being how toilets are, I had to do some maneuvering to get everything to wash out of there. As I was doing so, I heard a little "clunk."

I picked up the item that the toilet had deposited and walked inside to my husband.

"Here," I said, "you have a phone call." And I held it out for him.

And that toilet... the one there is absolutely nothing wrong with... is sitting on my front lawn at this very moment.

The neighbors will be so proud.

Moments

I was driving this evening, on my way to meet a friend at the airport. I had a lot of time to think. And I kept thinking of moments.

In our college days, it seemed like most of the moments Helen and I shared were silly moments. Cartwheels in the front yard of the apartment we shared - putting on a show for our roomates. Costume parties that we enjoyed just a bit too much. Something involving an enema that she repeatedly hid amongst the belongings of unsuspecting roommates.. Oh, my.

Those are certainly dear memories to me, but they are not nearly my fondest.

When I agonized over my decision to marry Paul, which I'd love to say was a no-brainer. But no-brainers aren't so easy for people whose brains always seem to get in the way. Helen asked me "Do you WANT to marry him?" And my answer was "yes." Her simple reply was "that counts." I cannot type those words without tears in my eyes as I remember the amazing grace her two word reply seemed to shower on me.

She was my maid of honor. And the honor, by the way, was all mine.

The time I told her I was pregnant with Lainee. Helen, who seems to have a corner on the joy market, offered what was the most sincere expression of unselfish and unabashed happiness that has ever been directed toward me. It took me by surprise that even she, my best friend, could be that happy for me. That moment cemented in my heart the desire to bless others simply by sharing their happiness. My version always comes out a little more berzerk-o than Helen's, but if you have been blessed by one of my displays of happiness for you, then you have Helen to thank for that.

She traveled with me in October of 2002. Four of "the girls" went out to visit our fifth wheel in Los Angeles. I was five months pregnant and a long way from my doctor. Too bad I had also started spotting. Yes, I called my doctor. Yes, he thought I was okay. Yes, I was still a little concerned. And Helen picked up on that right away, suggesting that we both forego the walk to Santa Monica pier and just sit down somewhere together so I could rest. But without a legitimate reason to do so, I didn't want to rain on the parade. We walked to the pier and we walked to the shops, and everywhere we went, Helen renewed her offer. She knew where an expectant mom's mind goes - even if the doctor has reassured you. Towards the end of the night Helen took the weight of it off of me. She just sat. And she invited me to join her.

The thirtieth birthday present she gave me. A tiny matchbox with a small piece of paper inside. On it, she wrote the thirty things she loves about me. A treasure.

The day each of my children were born. Helen was there. You couldn't stop her if you tried - it's her calling to meet new babies on the DAY THEY ARE BORN.

And when it came time for me to bring my youngest baby home, Helen was there, and would not have missed that homecoming for the world. Frazzled from all the things that would frazzle a mother who has been half way around the world with a baby who wasn't always chipper, I walked down an airport terminal and saw her standing there, waiting to greet us. She didn't presume she could hold Bethany. She was content to watch and say "welcome home." And when she asked how I was doing, I don't know if I fell apart from the exhaustion or from the simple fact that she was there to ask that question. With eyes full of tears, I said, "I am a wreck," at which point Helen could have oinked at me and I'd have thought them the sweetest words I'd ever heard. She hugged me instead. And I hugged back.

Tonight, I actually debated... because it was a long trip and it was late at night (and now early in the morning.) But deep in my heart of hearts I knew that this was going to be another moment. I was not going to miss it.

So, tonight, I stood on the other end of the terminal, and I waited to greet her (and her two new sons) near the end of a long line of others who had come to do the same. First in line, of course, was her daughter - squatting in anticipation as she watched her parents walking toward her holding her two new brothers.

I watched Helen, holding the younger of her sons, as she slowly made her way toward me. Maybe I cried just because everyone else was. Maybe I cried because of how her little one seemed to fit perfectly in her arms. Or, maybe I cried because I know what it's like. The relief over returning to the familiar and the simultaneous fear that everything familiar is about to be turned upside down.

But as I watched her it came as no surprise that, despite her obvious exhaustion, she was, indeed, joyful. Helen's emotional stability, which has always been far more certain than mine, was intact. She was not in need of any pep talks. So when it came my turn to greet her, I simply hugged her and asked, "So, what did you bring back for me?"

After retrieving bags and saying goodbye, I got back in my car for the long trip home. I had a lot of time to think. And I kept thinking of moments - and how I cherish every one.

From the Mouths of Babes

During our family time this evening, Mr. Bug offered the following tidbit about our family for us to ponder:

If all of us were mice, they could write a book about us.

Keepin' it Real

My heart hurts.

It hurts in the kind of way that hearts hurt when you don't like what is happening, but you know that God is working things out for your good. You embrace it, all the while wishing you didn't have to.

For as long as I can remember, I have sought out someone to look up to. For various stages of my life, I can name the actual person that I'd singled out. I think it's a security thing. I always sought out a person of character. Someone gentle. Someone wise. A role model. Yet, it wasn't really enough simply to see them modeling their good character. I wanted that person to take me under their wing. Teach me a little, encourage me a little, nurture me a little. I wanted someone like that to care enough about me that they'd devote a part of themselves to me.

Oddly, I think I understood my reasons for wanting this long before I was able to see the actual behavior. God, of course, has seen it all along. He's seen it for what it is. What it is: an obstacle. It keeps me from totally trusting Him for the teaching, encouragement, nurturing, gentleness, and wisdom that I need.

Even as I asked my friend to mentor me, I wondered if the expectations I had of her were too lofty, a little too "needy" on my part. She agreed to do it, but by that time I was onto my pattern, and I braced myself; softened my expectations. My friend has been kind, available, and attuned to my needs. She hasn't fulfilled "the dream," but that's okay. I have realized that my expectations were, indeed, a little too grand. Through that experience, I have heard God say to me, "It's just you and me, Lori. It's just you and me."

Yet just as I began rejoicing over that small victory, I also came to realize that I'd long been holding out hope for someone else. A very specific Someone Else. That Someone Else, however, hasn't shown any interest in taking up that role.

While I've had a long time for that realization to settle in my heart, it's still hard to let go. Lately, some things have been happening which remind me that I'm still holding on. Still holding out hope.

And again, I hear God saying, "Just you and me."

I won't pretend that I like it. Emotional investments always hurt when they don't pan out... even if God can use it for my good.

I am, however, grateful that God doesn't spare me the heartache when He knows that it is for my own good. And I am grateful for a God who is so committed to me that it CAN be just me and him, and still be everything I need.

I Couldn't Make this Stuff up if I Tried

Remember the curtains? No, not the movie with Denzel Washington. THE Curtains. These curtains. Remember them? Right.

Ms. Boo remembers them too. You know how I know this? Because last night, on a family outing to the Home Depot to pick out some new interior doors, Boo asked, "Are we going to have no doors for a few days?"

Oh, yes. She remembers. She has witnessed the home improvement process at our house. It's. Not. Pretty.

Case in point. It took us about 45 minutes to install a new toilet seat earlier this week. A toilet seat. 45 minutes.

No. I am not kidding.

So we went over to the HD, and discussed all things door with the very helpful Jeff, HD employee and door expert. He puts the door in hunky doory. (I had to. I just had to.)

After about 45 minutes worth of questions patiently answered by Jeff, we made our way to the registers, and loaded the van with our two, brand new ceiling fans.

Doors might not be the thing for us right now. But, with all the money we've got to burn, we just HAD to buy something. Lucky, lucky ceiling fans.

Paul came home this afternoon to a wife still in her pajamas. And a living room strewn with all manner of toys and an entire container of neon-colored hair elastics. The family room - not much better. I wanted to tell him that I cleaned all day. I really did. But the microwave is the only thing I have to show for it (what can I say, I had a lemon I needed to use) so I didn't even bother trying to convince him.

Don't think I am going off on a tangent here. When it comes to home improvements, nothing is tangential at this house. I just wanted you to know that I was SO into cleaning mode that I not only stayed in my PJs all day, but I also HAND WASHED a bunch of dishes.

I'm convinced that today's planetary alignment must have been extremely rare.

Which is only appropriate for home improvement day.

So, when Paul came home andseemed eager to get on with the ceiling fan installment, I stayed put. The curtains and the toilet seat were all of my doing, so I figured I'd lay low.

Paul had the electrical stuff pretty well in hand until he realized that there were four wires coming out of our ceiling where the old fan was. This is not such a big deal except that the installation booklet only mentions three.

He made a few phone calls (because, who STAYS HOME on a Friday night) and he finally found a friend who explained that the wiring was for separate switches on the light and the fan.

Paul returned to the task.

But, as it turns out, it's kinda difficult to install ceiling fans alone. And in the dark. So there was a whole lot of flashlight holding, screwdriver handing, motor supporting, and kid anesthetizing that had to be done. So, jump in I did.

Oh, for the love of all things sacred.

We got a bunch of things hooked up and what not. Unscrewed a previously screwed on component so as to shove the wires back into the ceiling. Answered a few questions for Lainee about the location of our attic. There was an extra screw that we couldn't figure out what to do with. Somewhere along the way we got all the wirey stuff covered up. We had just attached all the blades to the fan.

Then, we spun the blades. The sound that emerged was the sound of something rubbing against another something deep within the now screwed down and bolted shut interior of the fan. And I just looked at Paul - this sweet man who tries to please me by installing things like ceiling fans.

And I said to him: What do we do now? He sorta shrugged. And then I looked at him. T hen I said: What was that?

Have I ever mentioned that we have three kids?

And that I was doing housework all day?

Handwashing dishes.

That dish water? That DIRTY dishwater that was in the sink? I HEARD it DOING something.

And when I arrived breathless in the kitchen, I found that what it was doing was loading itself into cups so graciously held by Ms. Bao and Mr. Bug, and dumping itself all over the kitchen floor.

They thought this was HI. LAR. I. OUS.

Me?

Not so much.

I seethed some lovely sentiments, particularly to the beloved Ms. Bao, who had done this same thing TWICE earlier in the day with water from the toilet. But she was covered in dishwater, so I had to put her in the tub.

While in the bathroom, I asked the naked Bao to put her clothes in the dirty clothes bin located two steps outside of the bathroom door. While I tended to Mr. Bug, Ms. Bao walked the two steps outside the bathroom, passed the laundry bin, the washer, the dryer, the pantry cabinet, and the kitchen table.

And I was oblivious to it all until I heard her smack the kitchen floor. The same floor that was covered in water that I had yet to mop up.

I found her flailing around in the huge puddle. I grabbed her up and put her and Bug in the bathtub.

During that time that I was patiently tending to my precious cherubs, Paul managed to fix that little problem of rubbing somethings within the fan (see? better if I JUST STAY AWAY...)

Meanwhile:
- kids in tub
- me not tending them (Mother of the year) so that I can mop up the kitchen floor (because I apparently didn't do enough cleaning today)

In my disgust, I shove the kitchen chair that is in the middle of this puddle over to the side of the room. On it's way, the chair juuuust clips the corner of my countertop.

And chips a piece off. I am certain this happened because no home improvement adventure at our house would be complete without resorting, at some point, to the use of super glue.

Once the chip is glued back in place, I go check with Paul who reports that, after turning the power back on in the room, the fan does not work.

We hang it up. Get the kids dressed. Done for the night.

Until Paul figured out that if you just pull that little chain thing that is attached to the fan, it will actually start turning.

So we forge ahead with the process of attaching the lighting component. Which WILL NOT LINE UP with the screw holes we are supposed to be using.

That was another twenty minutes.

We're not convinced that the light fixture is adequately secured to the fan. But, this is just the fan over our bed, so, fortunately, should the light actually fall off of the ceiling, we'll at least have the pleasure of dying in our sleep.

We attached the glass light fixtures and put in the light bulbs. When we turned the power on again, we saw that only two of the four bulbs were working. Paul and I exchanged looks, but it only took me a moment to try that OTHER chain that was hanging from the fan. (I may be some dumb but I ain't plumb dumb.) Turns out that other chain makes ALL FOUR lights turn on if you want to make the room, you know, bright.

And there you have it. A fan. Installed. And, at last check, still attached to the ceiling.

But you realize we're not done. We did, after all, buy TWO fans.

Books, Blessings, and Well Being

Well, that about sums up 2006. Books, Blessings, and Well-Being. It was a good year.

The books, you've heard all about. All too often. But that was a big accomplishment for me. For the most part, I enjoyed the reading. This year, my first book-related goal will be reading the Bible. (I'm still planning on starting the 90 Day reading plan on January 10. Let me know if you want to join... there is still time.) Though reading through the Bible is more than just a reading goal for me, it is probably also the only reading goal that I have set for myself this year. But the reading list in my sidebar has been updated. And yes, it pained me to have to remove all the books I'd already read.

The Bible reading is part of a larger goal of maintaining the well-being that seemed to return to me sometime in 2006. I shared previously about the treatment for my depression. I'm done with the medicine, and I don't see my therapist anymore. And I am feeling pretty good. YAY! The more I go on feeling good, the more I develop a war-like mentality about not getting depressed again... and doing as much as I can possibly do to keep that from happening.

In light of that, I have developed a bit of a wellness plan. It includes a plan for losing weight (which I would also like to do because diabetes runs in my family,) but it isn't rigid. I am trying to work out, drink more water, eat more fruits/veggies and fewer desserts. No major dieting aside from watching what I eat and introducing some more healthful foods. I am writing everything down for a few months (how much I drink, if I took my vitamin, whether I exercised, etc.) I hope it will help me see patterns in my eating and weight loss and if I have accomplished (or majorly messed up) anything.

The chart I am keeping even includes a space to check if I have done my daily Bible reading or my Fly Lady mission. Keeping the house in order certainly plays into the level of stress I feel. The daily time with God is huge though - and not just in regard to my depression.

All of this to say that I am working towards some lifestyle changes. I don't know when I'll be out of the "working on it" phase and into the "accomplished it" phase. But that's not really something I am concerned about as much as making small changes as I can.

Finally, I am certain beyond any degree of doubt that the year 2006 was rife with blessings. I don't even know why I started the blessings blog, but I am so glad I did. It has altered my perspective, and my attitude too, I think! I will continue to record my blessings for 2007 because I know I need to keep up the habit of recognizing (and expecting) God's provision. But, as I begin to focus on some other things, I think my goal for the blessing blog will not be as lofty as it was last year.

So here's to 2007 (and to unimaginative ends to mediocre narrative.)

Better Late than Never

Well, Ms. Boo approached me today with this:

"Mom, remember last year how we made a birthday cake for Jesus?"

"Yes."

"Well, can we do that again?"

"Sure. There's a cake mix in the cabinet. Go get it."

The cake is in the oven now.

Mind you, the REASON the cake mix was in the cabinet was because I did actually PLAN to make the birthday cake for Jesus. It just didn't happen. Not so much because I was overwhelmed with holiday to-dos. Just because. Well, I don't really know why.

But I blame the digital camera.

See, it broke. And we haven't bought a new one yet (though we are working on it.) And when it got so late in the season that we couldn't get the photo taken for our cards in time.... well... I just let it gooooooo.........................

And figured that a New Year card would suffice.

And hey, there's not really a deadline for a New Year card, is there? I could send it just about any time in the month of January and still be well within the "New Year" time frame.

So, I'm thinking maybe this approach to the Christmas cards may have worn off in other areas as well. Namely, the birthday cake.

Just don't ask me to take care of the water bill, mkay?

I was Debating, but now I'm Sure

(Revised)

I have had an idea for a post in my head for a very long time. Been debating whether I should do it. I've thought it could be helpful to others to hear, but there is a potential that this could lead to some backlash for me. The real debate, I suppose, has been whether I want to open myself up to that.

But tonight, I drove by a church in a nearby town and, immediately, my decision was made. Their lighted sign prominently proclaimed the following message:

"We are to blessed to be depressed."

Now, lest you all think I am going to don the gear of the grammar police, let me assure you that this post is not about the difference between a preposition and an adverb (as important as that is....)

Let me begin by saying that I think I am fairly cognizant of the fact that I am blessed. I might even be so bold as to say that it is possible I am more aware of my blessed estate than the average person. I am abundantly, immeasurably blessed.

But you know what? I am also depressed.

I don't know what that person meant when they put up those words in front of their church. Perhaps he did not intend for "depressed" to be interpreted in the clinical sort of way. Perhaps he was simply trying to find a word that rhymed with "blessed." I don't really know.

But I do know this: there are plenty of Christians out there who think that depression is a state of mind that can be overcome by a good dose of faith.

You should really think more positively. Don't you appreciate all the things God has done for you? If you would submit to the Spirit, you would find joy.

No one, Thank You JESUS, has ever spoken such words to me, but I know similar things have been said (or whispered) in churches all over the country. It's hurtful and counterproductive.

I believe that there are many Christians out there who feel ashamed to begin treatment for depression. They won't see a therapist or take a pill, because they feel like doing either is some sort of failure on their part. There are pastors out there who tell their congretations that anyone who sees a therapist isn't trusting God to take care of them. People feel guilty about taking a medication for myriad reasons.

I have seen a therapist; a good Christian therapist who prayed with me before I left every appointment. She wasn't some sort of hocus-pocus soothe-sayer. She just knew a whole lot more about how the brain and emotions "work" and taught me pracitcal strategies that I WAS NEVER GOING TO HEAR BELLOWING FROM THE CLOUDS DURING MY PRAYER TIME. Make no mistake, God was (and is) doing the work of healing me. He's just doing it, as he has done with so many others throughout Church history, through another believer. Imagine that! Using a sister in Christ to bring me healing. (I don't know if you've noticed, but he's big on that kind of stuff.)

I believe that part of the blessing to be found in what I am going through is that I can encourage and minister to others who may be going through the same thing, or know someone who is. I want others to know that depression doesn't happen because you lack faith. Or because you aren't thankful enough. Or because you aren't submitting to God enough.

Having said that, I am going to drop the big bomb because I think this could be potentially freeing for someone who is reading this:

I just finished a year-long stint on Z0l0ft.

Now, let me be clear before I say anything else, I am NOT advocating that every depressed person start taking Z0l0ft (or any other medication.) The reason I mention taking this drug is because the benefits were, for me, unbelievable. I can't exactly describe the differnece it made but I can give you examples:

- I cried less.
- I laughed more.
- There were times when I felt happy to the core of my being, for NO DISCERNABLE REASON.
- As the feelings of anxiety and overwhelmed-ness (?) subsided, I was able to start doing things that I needed to do to combat depression. Things like exercising and restoring some semblance of orderliness to my home. Both of those things affect the severity of my depression, but in my depressed state, I couldn't even begin to tackle them. Now that I have had time to practice these things, I feel more prepared to handle them when I am not on medication.
- I enjoyed my family more.
- I have been able to think more clearly about what things are important to me. What I really want to make time for personally and within my family.
- I feel like I have a better understanding of what it means to be more emotionally balanced. Now, when I start to feel that heaviness set in, I am able to recognize it for what it is, and take steps to curb it, rather than just letting it continue as if it was "normal."

That year on medication helped get me over a huge impasse that was growing worse with each passing day. Feelings of anxiety, heaviness, lonliness. I felt overwhelmed. I was despairing. I don't deny that exercise and diet change can affect positive change in the life of a depressed person. I just didn't have it in me to make those changes. I needed help. And that medication was it. I believe God used it to help me through that impasse.

Now that I am off the medication, I am a little scared of falling back into those feelings again. I am, however, at a place where I am much more able to be proactive. A year ago, there was no proactivity in me. There was nothing "pro" at all!

I am sure there are people out there who question my faith or my devotion to God because of my depression or the treatment I have chosen. So be it. If this motivates anyone towards getting help and healing, then that's a small price to pay. Right now, I am counting it a blessing to have had the kind of treatment I did. God used it to reveal himself - and myself - to me in a new way.

Thank you, precious Father.

If you have a question about my treatment, or if you would like me to pray for you, please leave a comment or contact me at inepti2d at yahoo dot com.

If you think that you or someone you know might be depressed, you can learn more here, or here.

A Special Gift

This past weekend, Paul took the kids to the museum during what should have been Mr. Bug's nap time. So, as one might expect, he fell asleep in the van on the way home. When they got out of the car, Paul unbuckled Bug and left him there, with the van door open, so he could come in whenever he woke up.

When I went out to check on him, Bug was awake, and having a fit because he wanted his dad to carry him inside. I offered, but was rejected. So, I left him there and went back in the house.

Paul, who was sleeping on the couch, was awakened by Ms. Boo, who is far too nosy to not know what was going on. She informed him that Bug wanted him to carry him inside.

Paul, not altogether happy about being awakened (and probably not altogether awake) went out to bring in Bug.

Fast forward to 2 a.m. Sunday: Someone is knocking on our front door.

So, I do what every wife does when they hear someone knocking on the front door at 2 am. I nudge my husband and say "someone is knocking on the front door."

Again, Paul got up.

And as he is walking out to the living room I am thinking I'll bet we left the van door open and someone just wants to let us know.

Sure enough, it was a policeman. They were driving through the neighborhood and noticed the open door. And, after giving Paul a heads up that there have been several break-ins recently (thanks for that comforting thought at 2 am...) he tells Paul to look in the van and see if anything is missing.

Paul looks. Nothing is missing.

What Paul doesn't realize is that not only is there nothing missing, but there is actually something EXTRA in the van.

Fast forward to 9:30 Sunday morning:
Paul was already at church practicing for some special music. I am about to load the kids in the van when I throw open the van door only to be greeted by:

the overwhelming smell of cat urine.

How lovely.

Right in Ms. Bao's carseat.

So, I had to take Bao's carseat out of the car (which I wasn't excited about b/c that only means I will have to put it back in, and I HATE installing carseats) so I could remove the seat cover and try to wash it. I practically had to get out a toolbox to get the cover off the chair. I sprayed the cover with odor-remover, and then washed it with detergent and Arm and Hammer washing soda.

I can now report to you that the cover still smells like cat urine.

The moral of the story:
Don't go to the museum during your son's nap time... unless, of course, you LIKE the smell of cat pee.

Out of Commission

Well, Ms. Boo spilled tea on the keyboard today and the entire home row is no longer working. Hopefully all we need to do is let it dry. But, until it starts working or we get it fixed, I may not be blogging for a while.

If we have to get a new keyboard, it may be a long while... I haven't checked with Paul, but we are probably going to give priority to the washing machine which left a big puddle of water on the floor today.

Don't even ask about the furnace - which makes a loud banging sound once each night.

Hee Hee!

(I am at the library now, if you were wondering!)

A break from adoption talk

The following is important advice for anyone that owns a refrigerator:

If you wake up one morning, and notice that the milk in your cereal isn't very cold, and the frozen waffles aren't very frozen, please complete the following checklist before calling a repairman:

1. Check that the refrigerator is plugged in.
2. Check that the fuse/circuit to the refrigerator is not blown.
3. Check that the outlet still works, by plugging in another appliance.
4. Check that the refrigerator's "0n" switch is in the "on" position.

If you have not checked all of these things, you risk paying a repairman $40 for absolutely no good reason.

Big prize for the first person who correctly guesses which of these we failed to do this morning.

Beyond my comprehension

Sometimes I look at Mr. Bug and I think I am going to burst. He is absolutely the most precious boy I have ever seen. Whenever I am holding him, I just kiss him like crazy. Looking at him, as he walks around the kitchen, or splashes in the tub, I feel like I am going to overflow. If I tried forever, I don't think I could fully express the love I have for this boy.

Ms. Boo is my love... and often my laughter. We have a little personal joke between us, and it is the height of my day to giggle about it with her. I am fascinated with her abilities and watching her grow. She is, as her middle name predicted, a Joy.

There have been times, late at night, or during a particularly emotional season of life, when I have wondered "what if?" And there have been a few scenarios. One that I have thought of more than once is, what if there is a tornado? How would I protect my babies. Would I be able to shield them, or hold them tight enough to keep them from danger? I have another "what if" which is totally irrational, about being in the car with them as it sinks in a body of water. Who would I unbuckle first? Would I be able to swim with both of them?

Now, before you call me crazy, I just want to tell you that these are not things that I think about often or dwell on when I do. And I might dare to guess that every mom has had some kind of thought at one time or another. What I do know is that I don't think about these things very long, because even the THOUGHT of living without one of them, and wondering if I could've saved them, is much too heavy to take on for any length of time.

I have been reading a bit about what is going on in Sudan lately. (If this seems like a terrible transition, it will make sense soon enough.) To say the least, it is devastating. But, when I hear stories like this one, I am reduced to tears immediately... because that is one kind of pain that I never want to experience. I imagine myself asleep one night (or up blogging, if this is to be realistic) and being startled by the sound of someone breaking down my door, raiding my home, burning my house. People screaming and running everywhere. Complete fear. What would I do? Run? Try to find my children? Try to find Paul? I have no idea... but am I guessing I would just run. And if, when I got somewhere "safe," I was without my children, I think I would just have preferred to die. I really do.

I don't know if this is sensationalism on my part or not. But I don't want to read stories like these and then just forget about it. I don't want to think "Oh, how terrible" one minute and then "what's to eat?" the next. People are being murdered, raped, and terrorized. I hope that is never "okay" with me.

Pray for the people of Sudan.

more here

I am my own worst enemy

The time of day when I have to start making dinner is probably my least favorite part of the day. It is impossible to get around the kitchen without stepping on a child. Mr. Bug gets particularly crabby as dinner time approaches. Add to this that I have been with the children all day... so my patience is usually wearing thin. Everyone is generally crabby and frustrated.

On a normal night, Paul would come home around this time and I can get some relief from the kids while he entertains them. Tonight, however, Paul had a track meet, so... I just kept tripping (both literally and figuratively.)

Now, most rational people would take all of these things into account and go for the easy meal, but NOT ME!

Today, as I was rummaging around trying to find something to eat, I saw that I had a bunch of mozzerella cheese in the freezer. Pizza, I thought. Great idea. But what would I use to make the crust? I had english muffins, and Ms. Boo liked making english muffin pizzas the last time we did it... but they were so gross. (More rummaging...) I thought I had a package of yeast... yes there it was. I decided I could make the dough from scratch.

But what about the sauce? We used spaghetti sauce last time, but that also tasted gross. (I grab my cookbook.) I had everything I needed to make sauce from scratch. So... off I go....

Yeast, flour, water, oil... knead the dough. pull J off leg. preheat oven. Brown the ground meat. let dough rise. pull Mr. Bug off leg. crush canned tomatoes, oregano, garlic, chop the onions, pepper. open can of mushrooms. put Bug in his bed. drain mushrooms. drain meat. clean table. flour table and roll out dough. add toppings. read recipe and realize that you were supposed to bake the dough 10 minutes before adding toppings. sigh. put pizza in oven. roll out second half of dough to make the pizza that you weren't even going to bother with until Boo threw a fit b/c you wouldn't let her help, and you yelled at her because she wasn't even supposed to be IN the kitchen, but should've been watching the tape that SHE ASKED FOR and staying out of the way like you told her, and now you feel bad, so you decide to make the second pizza anyway. put crust in oven. clean table. get Boo a paper towel so she can "help" clean too and maybe we can avoid another tantrum from the child who refused to nap today. clean the floor where Boo spilled flour when she was "helping." clean up mushroom can. clean up can of tomato sauce. No, Boo, you cannot have a snack now. clean meat spilled on stove. put away flour, garlic, oil. try to wake up Bug... no luck. get out plates. serve pizza. get out "shaking" cheese. Let Boo shake cheese by herself... enough said. see that none of the cheese is actually ON THE PIZZA. Reason w/ three-year-old that she doesn't need more cheese, but can use what is on her plate, all she has to do is dip her pizza in it. get fork. cut a piece of her pizza and demonstrate dipping. console child for next 2 minutes, profusely apologizing for cutting her pizza, and try to convince her that the piece cannot be reattached. wake up Bug cut piece of pizza for him. watch him eat some. spits out the rest... why? BECAUSE IT IS GROSS!

should've used the freakin' english muffins and spahetti sauce!

We took a family trip this week. We told Ms. Boo about it the day before we left because, as we suspected, she wanted to leave immediately. We told her we were going to the zoo (Cincinnati) and that we were going to a restaurant (which she loves,) and then she said, "are we going to the hotel?" (You have to hear her say "hotel." For some reason she can't say a long "o" when it is followed by a "t." Instead, she turns the long "o" into a short "e.") We told her we would stay at a hotel and she said "and we can eat breakfast at the hetel!" Oh, the little things that excite her. She started RUNNING ALL OVER THE HOUSE in utter excitement. It was so funny.

The plan was to leave on Weds, which was her birthday, so after we told her what we were doing, I hid one of her birthday presents in her room. It was a suitcase with the little wheels so you can pull it behind you. More running all over the house. She wanted to pack everything. The funny thing is that she often confuses "suitcase" with "bathing suit." So, I don't know if we packed her suitcase in her bathing suit or vice versa.

We left weds. and the zoo was fun. We didn't cover much ground but the kids really enjoyed it. Mr. Bug especially liked seeing the seals. We saw lots of turtles (which have become quite the legend in our home... but that is another story.) And we rode the little train that takes you around the children's zoo. Fun. After dinner at a restaurant, we went back to the hotel to swim. Mr. Bug was a HOOT. Just splashing and kicking and squealing with delight. It was way fun.

On Thursday, we had (an uneventful) breakfast at the hotel and, after a little more swimming, we went to the Newport Aquarium. More turtles. Lots of fish, which both of them loved. Boo got tired... it was close to nap time... and kept asking to see the whale. We told her there weren't any whales and she said, "Yes, up the stairs. I want to go upstairs." Sure enough, when we came up the stairs into the aquarium lobby, there was a huge, fake whale hanging there on the wall. She walked straight to it, looking up, and twirling her hair around her fingers the way she does. That was all she wanted. She was happy.

When we got home, Paul said to me, "I got you a gift. It is inside. I think you'll be able to find it pretty easily." I took one step in the house and said "Who was here?" Paul had hired someone to clean the whole house while we were gone.

I always hate coming home to a messy house, but it had more significance this time because we are hosting the Paul's side of the family for Easter on Sunday. I wasn't looking forward to spending the rest of the break cleaning. Since all the cleaning was done, I got to spend my time outside planting more flowers, and having a picnic at the park with the family! Also, WAY FUN!

The original Easter plans were for the family to go to Paul's parents' for dinner. But, we had to postpone Boo's birthday party a few weeks ago because Bug was so sick. (I was so upset about having to do that. There is so much going on in April that we had to "fit in" the party the first time. So, having to postpone and try to find another date made me feel a little like Boo was an afterthought. It isn't true, and I am over it now, but it really bummed me out when it first happened.) Needless to say, we are having Boo's party on Easter, so the family is coming here instead. I just hope that Boo doesn't expect an Easter egg hunt every year for her birthday!

In other news:
* I dropped a steak knife, point down, on my bare foot this morning. I don't recommend anyone try this. I think it is okay, but I'll have to monitor it.
* Phil is in 4th place going into the third round of the Masters. GO, PHIL!
* The pea plants have been transplanted to the back yard. We will be attempting tomatoes, peppers, cukes, and squash. Thinking about growing lettuce in pots too. We'll see. I planted some flower seeds directly in the garden yesterday... and really hoping they come up!
* Caught a snippet of the 9/11 hearings while we were on vacation. They seemed quite ridiculous to me.
* Had a great talk with Paul last night. We don't do that often enough. I love him.
* Can't wait to give Boo her bike tomorrow. She has been asking for one! She said she wanted green (her "favorite." I am skeptical of this, even though she tells me that a lot.) Then she said she wanted pink. I really acted excited when she mentioned that, since her bike is pink! Then she went back to green. Anyway, she came with me to the store when I bought her a helmet so I could be sure that it fit. And, of course, felt she needed to use it when we got home. All I know is, WHATEVER color that bike is, it will be nice to see her wearing the helmet on a REAL bike instead of that little "foot-push" plastic bike that she wears the helmet with now. It's quite a funny sight.
* The mole(s?) has now circled the entire house.

Special Memories with Special People

w/ Paul: the Yankees/Indians game during the ALCS; exchanging love letters, the day we got married; our childrens' births.

w/ mom: when I colored and cut out a picture of a clown in 1st grade. I took extra care to cut it out well. When I brought it home, mom said "did you cut this out?" and proceeded to tell me what a great job I did

w/ dad: Farm Shop sundaes, tickle fights, and the college trip to Pittsburgh

w/ Helen: our trip to St. Louis; my wedding; her wedding; the bad play that we saw the summer after we graduated and laughing uncontrollably when we go back home; Thursdays at Fazoli's

w/ Shelby: discussing as we walked home from movie nights in Bayley; walking home in the rain; the library typewriter; singing "McDonalds, McDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Pizza Hut" as we walked to the College Life meeting; making up a rap about a drunk guy

w/ God: the summer of '94 at Penn State. When he was more real to me than he had ever been up to that point.

w/ Shelah: a walk during my senior year when she encouraged me that my desire to serve God counts, even if I felt like I was failing.

w/ Heather: (my best friend in high school) finger painting with ice cream on the kitchen counter; making brownies; long walks where we could say whatever we wanted and know that it was okay