When I got home from my errands yesterday (a 3:30 meeting that I was leading, then to the Drugstore to pick up antibiotics for Dane, then to grab some to-go for dinner), I discovered Don was already home. Surprised to see him so early, I greeted him warmly.
"Didn't you get my message?" he asked. No message, but no wonder. I hadn't been home for hours.
"I decided to come home early and take the day off tomorrow to use up at least one of my vacation days before I lost it." Don had 4 remaining vacation days that expire today. He wanted to take them in conjunction with his surgery, but it just didn't work out.
So, in addition to having my wonderful husband home all day today, he got to go with me and the boys to Deanna's volleyball game, the second one he's been able to attend.
A girl could get used to this.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Short Post for a Change
I got home last night from an AWESOME women's retreat this weekend. It was all about the power and the passion - for the Holy Spirit. My passion was definitely renewed and my faith in His power is stronger than ever.
I had asked Don to do a few things over the weekend for me, like clear off the dining room table. They were just getting done as I arrived home, but he listened and made an attempt. I HATE coming home to a filthy house and having to spend the next several days furiously cleaning to make up for the time I was away.
Dane has gotten sicker and I kept him home today. I'm trying to get him into his Pediatrician now. His chest is tight, he's having difficulty breathing and is now having trouble coughing, as well, which is probably due to the chest tightness, but is not a good sign.
Funny - even though I'm worried about him and have tons of work to get done, I still feel on a spiritual high. Somehow, I don't think anything is really going to bother me today. I feel like I'm on a path leading towards a new life in the Lord. I'm not sure I've yet arrived at this new life, but I feel differently and am excited about the changes the Lord's going to make in me over the next year.
I had asked Don to do a few things over the weekend for me, like clear off the dining room table. They were just getting done as I arrived home, but he listened and made an attempt. I HATE coming home to a filthy house and having to spend the next several days furiously cleaning to make up for the time I was away.
Dane has gotten sicker and I kept him home today. I'm trying to get him into his Pediatrician now. His chest is tight, he's having difficulty breathing and is now having trouble coughing, as well, which is probably due to the chest tightness, but is not a good sign.
Funny - even though I'm worried about him and have tons of work to get done, I still feel on a spiritual high. Somehow, I don't think anything is really going to bother me today. I feel like I'm on a path leading towards a new life in the Lord. I'm not sure I've yet arrived at this new life, but I feel differently and am excited about the changes the Lord's going to make in me over the next year.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Frigid Memories
The kids are out of school today and I'm leaving at 2 pm for a Women's Retreat. Deanna was invited to a Spend-the-Night birthday party for one of her friends. They were going to sleep in a tent in the backyard.
When I got up this morning and saw the rain, it reminded me of a time I took the girls from Deanna's class camping. The goal was to teach them how to prepare a campsite and pitch a tent. I decided to keep it simple by camping in a friend's backyard - friends that have several acres and a pecan orchard but are only a few blocks from our school. They also have a fire ring - the man was an Eagle Scout. He kept a large supply of firewood and taught us funny camp songs as we sat around in the evening, roasting marshmallows and telling stories.
Our family friend, Ken, who was an Eagle Scout and Scout Master for years came along to check on us. We quite successfully pitched two tents, but the temperature was dropping by the minute. Another Mom was there with me. I was going to sleep in one tent with half the girls, she was in the other. As we were putting out sleeping bags, I discovered some of the girls only had play sleeping bags that were for indoor use, only. I knew they were going to be in trouble. It was getting COLD! Ken also recognized that there was huge potential for failure and disappeared, only to reappear with a dozen or so sheets.
"You'll be amazed how much insulation these sheets will give you," he told the skeptical me. In each girl's sleeping bag he laid down a sheet, then folded it over. They were to climb between the two sheets before zipping up their sleeping bags.
We realized that the coldness would seep in through the ground, so we took every blanket we could muster and used them to insulate the floor of the tent. Some of us had inflatable mats, which were a great insulator, getting us up off the ground, but I was particularly worried about the girls without mats. I had forgotten that our tent, our nice, large, two-room family tent, was a summer-only tent and the top half was netting. If we could have shut it down tight, I thought we might be able to keep some body heat inside, but there was no chance of that. We just needed to make sure our body heat didn't escape our sleeping bags.
My children all have good 20 degree sleeping bags that are supposed to keep them warm to that temperature. I wasn't so sure about some of the other bags in the tents. I had told the girls to bring warm clothes for sleeping and to dress in layers. We made sure everyone had hats and gloves and we all slept with them on. Most of us slept with as many layers a possible. When we finally said goodnight and zipped up the flaps, settling down to try and sleep, we all knew we were in for a tough night. I saw it as an adventure. I wasn't so sure about the girls.
I was amazed how much one little sheet could insulate. During the night, I turned in my bag and the sheet fell off my legs. In the dark, half asleep, I couldn't quite get the sheet put right again and the part of my legs that was exposed was MUCH colder. Around 6 am, I got up to take the girls to the bathroom (my friends also have a mother-in-law cottage that comes in handy for things like bathrooms) and decided we needed to warm up by the fire. I stoked it and piled on the firewood. Then I took some hot coals, placed them between two cement blocks, and started breakfast.
About an hour later, our Host appeared in the yard, carrying a cup of coffee for me. He was coming out to rebuild our fire and was surprised I already had it roaring and was halfway done cooking breakfast. Once the fire had begun crackling, girls had appeared from the other tent and everyone was fully awake by around 6:30, so we were all sitting around the fire enjoying its warmth when he walked up with News.
"It hit 31 degrees last night. You girls camped out in below freezing weather. I'm proud of you!"
I fully expected groans and comments about how they could tell because they were so cold. Instead, the girls shouted, whooped, and the comments amounted to, "I can't wait to get back to school on Monday and tell the BOYS!"
The girls had accomplished something the boys had not yet done. They had camped out, all of them together, in below freezing weather. Each of them saw this as some kind of a badge for which they all had bragging rights. I couldn't help but laugh. They DID see this as an adventure. Whooh!
Anyway, the rain this morning reminded me of that story, although there wasn't any rain that night - just cold, oh, so cold. I hope the girls are having fun and I hope they all made it through the night in the tent. I hope they had breakfast over a campfire this morning, although I doubt it. The Mom who's house it's at doesn't really enjoy camping. I suspect she's making a big breakfast right now of eggs and juice - inside, over the stove.
I loved those camping days with the girls. I'm not sure how many more there will be, now that they're in middle school. But I was determined to make sure they all had some camping experience and knew the basics. I think I accomplished that over their years in Elementary.
And now, I must go and pack. Reminiscing needs to end for now so I can focus on laying out the clothes to take and finishing the grocery list so Don can do the shopping while I'm gone.
I'm saying an extra prayer for each of those girls this morning that mean so much to me. I love each and everyone of them and am secretly a little jealous that some other mother had them last night and I missed out on camping with them.
But we have memories!
When I got up this morning and saw the rain, it reminded me of a time I took the girls from Deanna's class camping. The goal was to teach them how to prepare a campsite and pitch a tent. I decided to keep it simple by camping in a friend's backyard - friends that have several acres and a pecan orchard but are only a few blocks from our school. They also have a fire ring - the man was an Eagle Scout. He kept a large supply of firewood and taught us funny camp songs as we sat around in the evening, roasting marshmallows and telling stories.
Our family friend, Ken, who was an Eagle Scout and Scout Master for years came along to check on us. We quite successfully pitched two tents, but the temperature was dropping by the minute. Another Mom was there with me. I was going to sleep in one tent with half the girls, she was in the other. As we were putting out sleeping bags, I discovered some of the girls only had play sleeping bags that were for indoor use, only. I knew they were going to be in trouble. It was getting COLD! Ken also recognized that there was huge potential for failure and disappeared, only to reappear with a dozen or so sheets.
"You'll be amazed how much insulation these sheets will give you," he told the skeptical me. In each girl's sleeping bag he laid down a sheet, then folded it over. They were to climb between the two sheets before zipping up their sleeping bags.
We realized that the coldness would seep in through the ground, so we took every blanket we could muster and used them to insulate the floor of the tent. Some of us had inflatable mats, which were a great insulator, getting us up off the ground, but I was particularly worried about the girls without mats. I had forgotten that our tent, our nice, large, two-room family tent, was a summer-only tent and the top half was netting. If we could have shut it down tight, I thought we might be able to keep some body heat inside, but there was no chance of that. We just needed to make sure our body heat didn't escape our sleeping bags.
My children all have good 20 degree sleeping bags that are supposed to keep them warm to that temperature. I wasn't so sure about some of the other bags in the tents. I had told the girls to bring warm clothes for sleeping and to dress in layers. We made sure everyone had hats and gloves and we all slept with them on. Most of us slept with as many layers a possible. When we finally said goodnight and zipped up the flaps, settling down to try and sleep, we all knew we were in for a tough night. I saw it as an adventure. I wasn't so sure about the girls.
I was amazed how much one little sheet could insulate. During the night, I turned in my bag and the sheet fell off my legs. In the dark, half asleep, I couldn't quite get the sheet put right again and the part of my legs that was exposed was MUCH colder. Around 6 am, I got up to take the girls to the bathroom (my friends also have a mother-in-law cottage that comes in handy for things like bathrooms) and decided we needed to warm up by the fire. I stoked it and piled on the firewood. Then I took some hot coals, placed them between two cement blocks, and started breakfast.
About an hour later, our Host appeared in the yard, carrying a cup of coffee for me. He was coming out to rebuild our fire and was surprised I already had it roaring and was halfway done cooking breakfast. Once the fire had begun crackling, girls had appeared from the other tent and everyone was fully awake by around 6:30, so we were all sitting around the fire enjoying its warmth when he walked up with News.
"It hit 31 degrees last night. You girls camped out in below freezing weather. I'm proud of you!"
I fully expected groans and comments about how they could tell because they were so cold. Instead, the girls shouted, whooped, and the comments amounted to, "I can't wait to get back to school on Monday and tell the BOYS!"
The girls had accomplished something the boys had not yet done. They had camped out, all of them together, in below freezing weather. Each of them saw this as some kind of a badge for which they all had bragging rights. I couldn't help but laugh. They DID see this as an adventure. Whooh!
Anyway, the rain this morning reminded me of that story, although there wasn't any rain that night - just cold, oh, so cold. I hope the girls are having fun and I hope they all made it through the night in the tent. I hope they had breakfast over a campfire this morning, although I doubt it. The Mom who's house it's at doesn't really enjoy camping. I suspect she's making a big breakfast right now of eggs and juice - inside, over the stove.
I loved those camping days with the girls. I'm not sure how many more there will be, now that they're in middle school. But I was determined to make sure they all had some camping experience and knew the basics. I think I accomplished that over their years in Elementary.
And now, I must go and pack. Reminiscing needs to end for now so I can focus on laying out the clothes to take and finishing the grocery list so Don can do the shopping while I'm gone.
I'm saying an extra prayer for each of those girls this morning that mean so much to me. I love each and everyone of them and am secretly a little jealous that some other mother had them last night and I missed out on camping with them.
But we have memories!
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Details, details
I got my van detailed yesterday. I was very tired of driving a filthy vehicle. When we bought it, used, from the Dealer, there were orange stains all over the carpet. I would have thought they would have cleaned it, but no.
Anyway, there's a place I pass from time to time that always seems to stay busy. I drove over on Tuesday and talked with the guy who manages it. I explained that I needed it detailed and asked for a price and how long it would take.
"We usually charge between $120 and $150 for vans," he told me. "That includes cleaning the carpets, polishing the leather interior, washing and waxing, blah, blah, blah . . ." I didn't quite hear the rest, after the price part. I thought quickly and realized that he couldn't possibly mean $1.20 or $1.50, so he MUST mean OVER A HUNDRED DOLLARS!
Now, truth be told, I'm not the most cultured person in the world. Obviously, I've never had my van detailed. The children asked me that morning, when I mentioned I was wanting to get it done and would ask for an estimate, what it would cost - ballpark. I really had no idea. Dane asked if it would cost $10.
"Oh, no, honey. Much more than that," I responded. However, secretly, I was thinking, "Maybe $50." But $100 more than that? Three times that? It was staggering.
I was pretty sure I didn't blink uncontrollably or drop my mouth open in stunned shock. I responded idiotically to the young man with, "It's pretty dirty."
"How many seats do you have?" he asked.
"Go ahead and open the door," I told him, pointing over my shoulder at the driver's side sliding door. "There are Captain's Seats in the middle (which Dane always calls Pilot's Chairs and Deanna agrees with him that the word Pilot means the same things as Captain), then a bench seat in the back," I showed him as he slid the door open.
"Well, I'm sure we could do it for between $85 and $120," he said, confidently. I wasn't sure why the price was dropping. Maybe I really looked pitiful. I was very careful not to shriek when he gave me the original price.
"We bought it, used, from the Dealership," I continued, apparently absolutely convinced that he needed to charge me more or, at least, babbling uncontrollably when I should have just smiled and thanked him. "It had orange stains on the carpet when we bought it and I've never been able to get the carpets cleaned."
"My Daddy owns this business," he responded. "I manage it for him. He owns the Daycare around the corner, too. He's not here right now, but I could ask him when he comes back if he'd do it for $85. That's the lowest he EVER goes on a van, but I'll ask him, if you'd like." There goes that price, dropping again. Maybe, completely without intention, the babbling was working. Either that or he decided I was a charity case.
"That would be GREAT!" I nearly shouted. "Could I give you my name and phone number and have you call me back?" $85 was infinitely closer to my hoped-for $50 than was $150. He walked off to get a piece of paper and pen and reappeared shortly, handing it to me.
"I'll have to talk with my husband," I explained. "But it would help if I could give him a good price."
"I understand," he responded. "I'll call you."
The deal, ultimately, was struck for $85 and I showed up yesterday to drop it off.
"How long will you need it?" I asked.
"At least 4 hours. Sometimes, once we clean the carpets and they begin to dry, dirt begins to come back up in them, so we have to re-do them. It's best we have plenty of time."
That was 10 a.m., so it seemed safe to pick it up before getting the children from school at 3:00. He gave me his business card and suggested I call first, which I did. An older gentleman answered the phone, who I assumed to be his father. I was correct.
"Ma'am," he said, "I believe they want to hit your carpets one more time. Can you give them another half hour?" he asked. I responded that I could gladly leave it longer for another shot at getting those carpets clean. I loaded my mother and the children up at 3:30 and headed for the Detail Shop. The van had all the doors and trunk open and the Captain's chairs and fitted mats were sitting outside. As I drove in next to the van and looked, a young man jumped in front of the van, waving his arms and yelling. I rolled down the window.
"Don't look yet! I'm not done," he called to me. A Detail Prima donna. Who woulda thunk?
Rather than go through the whole conversation, suffice it to say he showed me the pile of rags, over 100, that he had used to clean the carpets. He washed them by hand 8 times and explained that he needed to "hit" them about 8 times more. He said he'd scrub and scrub and think they were clean, but as they started to dry, the orange would come up again. He demonstrated on a small orange stain in the trunk.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked. I explained that we bought the van used and the carpets looked that way when we purchased it.
"Well, there are only two things that act this way - orange Kool-aid and orange freezie pops. Both of those products have the same orange coloring and they do this. Somebody spilled LOTS or kool-aid in here." I was totally impressed that he knew his dirt so well. He needed yet more time. I was thinking how many hours of hard labor I was getting for my $85.
I finally picked it up at about 5:15. He got a clean towel and told me that the test of the wax job is to see if a towel, thrown on the front hood, can slide right off smoothly without getting hung up on any spots. I watched as the towel slid from side to side, then fell completely off the hood. I made the children get out of the van and we demonstrated again. Then each of the boys had to try it. It was amazing. The man who did the work was very pleased with our response.
My mother, who had taken us to pick it up, decided to come and take a look. She glanced inside the van, then commented, "I'm not sure you'll know how to drive this van, honey. It's a little too clean for you."
I can't even begin to tell you how good it feels to be driving a clean vehicle. Somehow, I just feel better about myself, which is ridiculous. But the children even seem to sit up a little taller in their seats. It smells good, the leather is smooth and soft, the dashboard is clean and Armor-alled, all the junk is gone, and the carpets are clean. I told Don last night that we should have this done every couple of years. They might eventually be able to get out all the orange.
I'm just afraid the price will go back to $150 next time. Either that or they'll see me coming down the road and, very quickly, go out of business.
Anyway, there's a place I pass from time to time that always seems to stay busy. I drove over on Tuesday and talked with the guy who manages it. I explained that I needed it detailed and asked for a price and how long it would take.
"We usually charge between $120 and $150 for vans," he told me. "That includes cleaning the carpets, polishing the leather interior, washing and waxing, blah, blah, blah . . ." I didn't quite hear the rest, after the price part. I thought quickly and realized that he couldn't possibly mean $1.20 or $1.50, so he MUST mean OVER A HUNDRED DOLLARS!
Now, truth be told, I'm not the most cultured person in the world. Obviously, I've never had my van detailed. The children asked me that morning, when I mentioned I was wanting to get it done and would ask for an estimate, what it would cost - ballpark. I really had no idea. Dane asked if it would cost $10.
"Oh, no, honey. Much more than that," I responded. However, secretly, I was thinking, "Maybe $50." But $100 more than that? Three times that? It was staggering.
I was pretty sure I didn't blink uncontrollably or drop my mouth open in stunned shock. I responded idiotically to the young man with, "It's pretty dirty."
"How many seats do you have?" he asked.
"Go ahead and open the door," I told him, pointing over my shoulder at the driver's side sliding door. "There are Captain's Seats in the middle (which Dane always calls Pilot's Chairs and Deanna agrees with him that the word Pilot means the same things as Captain), then a bench seat in the back," I showed him as he slid the door open.
"Well, I'm sure we could do it for between $85 and $120," he said, confidently. I wasn't sure why the price was dropping. Maybe I really looked pitiful. I was very careful not to shriek when he gave me the original price.
"We bought it, used, from the Dealership," I continued, apparently absolutely convinced that he needed to charge me more or, at least, babbling uncontrollably when I should have just smiled and thanked him. "It had orange stains on the carpet when we bought it and I've never been able to get the carpets cleaned."
"My Daddy owns this business," he responded. "I manage it for him. He owns the Daycare around the corner, too. He's not here right now, but I could ask him when he comes back if he'd do it for $85. That's the lowest he EVER goes on a van, but I'll ask him, if you'd like." There goes that price, dropping again. Maybe, completely without intention, the babbling was working. Either that or he decided I was a charity case.
"That would be GREAT!" I nearly shouted. "Could I give you my name and phone number and have you call me back?" $85 was infinitely closer to my hoped-for $50 than was $150. He walked off to get a piece of paper and pen and reappeared shortly, handing it to me.
"I'll have to talk with my husband," I explained. "But it would help if I could give him a good price."
"I understand," he responded. "I'll call you."
The deal, ultimately, was struck for $85 and I showed up yesterday to drop it off.
"How long will you need it?" I asked.
"At least 4 hours. Sometimes, once we clean the carpets and they begin to dry, dirt begins to come back up in them, so we have to re-do them. It's best we have plenty of time."
That was 10 a.m., so it seemed safe to pick it up before getting the children from school at 3:00. He gave me his business card and suggested I call first, which I did. An older gentleman answered the phone, who I assumed to be his father. I was correct.
"Ma'am," he said, "I believe they want to hit your carpets one more time. Can you give them another half hour?" he asked. I responded that I could gladly leave it longer for another shot at getting those carpets clean. I loaded my mother and the children up at 3:30 and headed for the Detail Shop. The van had all the doors and trunk open and the Captain's chairs and fitted mats were sitting outside. As I drove in next to the van and looked, a young man jumped in front of the van, waving his arms and yelling. I rolled down the window.
"Don't look yet! I'm not done," he called to me. A Detail Prima donna. Who woulda thunk?
Rather than go through the whole conversation, suffice it to say he showed me the pile of rags, over 100, that he had used to clean the carpets. He washed them by hand 8 times and explained that he needed to "hit" them about 8 times more. He said he'd scrub and scrub and think they were clean, but as they started to dry, the orange would come up again. He demonstrated on a small orange stain in the trunk.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked. I explained that we bought the van used and the carpets looked that way when we purchased it.
"Well, there are only two things that act this way - orange Kool-aid and orange freezie pops. Both of those products have the same orange coloring and they do this. Somebody spilled LOTS or kool-aid in here." I was totally impressed that he knew his dirt so well. He needed yet more time. I was thinking how many hours of hard labor I was getting for my $85.
I finally picked it up at about 5:15. He got a clean towel and told me that the test of the wax job is to see if a towel, thrown on the front hood, can slide right off smoothly without getting hung up on any spots. I watched as the towel slid from side to side, then fell completely off the hood. I made the children get out of the van and we demonstrated again. Then each of the boys had to try it. It was amazing. The man who did the work was very pleased with our response.
My mother, who had taken us to pick it up, decided to come and take a look. She glanced inside the van, then commented, "I'm not sure you'll know how to drive this van, honey. It's a little too clean for you."
I can't even begin to tell you how good it feels to be driving a clean vehicle. Somehow, I just feel better about myself, which is ridiculous. But the children even seem to sit up a little taller in their seats. It smells good, the leather is smooth and soft, the dashboard is clean and Armor-alled, all the junk is gone, and the carpets are clean. I told Don last night that we should have this done every couple of years. They might eventually be able to get out all the orange.
I'm just afraid the price will go back to $150 next time. Either that or they'll see me coming down the road and, very quickly, go out of business.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Too Little Time
I'm feeling a little overwhelmed with school. I don't know what people do that have 8 children or even more. I can barely keep up with 3.
I try and keep them all in the kitchen after school to do homework. But Dane has to do research on the computer and he doesn't know how to do that yet. He needs Mom to sit with him and show him how to use a Search Engine. Meanwhile, Deanna is complaining because she has a spelling test the next day and finally brought her words home. However, the scanner/printer is out of black ink.
"Just scan it to a PDF file, then choose the print option and change the printer to the HP," I tell her.
What are you saying? Are you speaking English? I remember many situations where IT people were explaining some application to me and I was totally convinced they weren't speaking English. She needs to be shown how to do this "change the printer" thing.
Meanwhile, Daelyn has escaped. With no one sitting at the table reading his homework directions to him, he's taken advantage of the lag in time to run outside and play. When I finish with Dane and Deanna, I head back to the kitchen. The spaghetti sauce is bubbling nicely, but Daelyn is still gone. I send Dane out to fetch him. 15 minutes later, he returns.
"We need to do your homework," I pronounce, a little shortly. I try to juggle phone calls and preparing dinner and doing preparations for the next day's lunches while he works on his work. Water bottles from today have to be taken out of their insulated pack, refilled, and put in freezer. Drinks for tomorrow need to be readied. I glance at the lunch menu for the next day. Great! I don't have Lunchables and Wednesday is Lunchables day. And there's no time to run to the store. I'll just have to make do.
In the morning, I make porridge for breakfast (today's hot cereal morning), then begin the task of lunches again. Each child wants something different. Deanna wants cheese and crackers. Daelyn wants mac-n-cheese, which I have to make, and Dane's feeling bad and doesn't want anything. What to do about Dane? Maybe soup will taste good to him and not hurt his throat going down.
I put juice on the table - the boys get one kind, Deanna another. Then I carefully pour Daelyn's antibiotic and put it out while the porridge is simmering. No children yet. I put Probiotics at each child's place - as much as they've been on antibiotics lately, they need to add some good bacteria into their digestive systems.
I grab scriptures and spelling words for review. One boy wanders into the kitchen from outside with the dog in tow. Oh, yeah, I think. I need to get his sinus rinse ready. I begin to wash out and disinfect his bottle in preparation for today.
All told, I review three sets of spelling words every morning (four if Deanna's remembered her Spanish words), a monthly and a weekly scripture, and review vocabulary. I make lunches, dole out medicines, answer questions, review schedules (Deanna has PE on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Dane has it on Tuesday, Daelyn on Friday, except Daelyn's has been changed to Thursday this week), make sure everyone has the clothes they need for the day, make sure Deanna doesn't have a volleyball game, talk with the children about what's happening in the evening, etc. I just feel like the evenings are too short and the mornings are too crowded.
There's Deanna's hair to brush, the boys have to be reminded to brush their teeth and put their lunch boxes and water bottles in their backpacks, EVERYONE has to be reminded to clear their stuff off the table (or Donovan climbs up and finished off the people food), and one day last week, we were headed out to the van when I noticed Dane was still in his tennis shoes from walking the dog, not his school shoes.
Too much for one little mommy. I'm overwhelmed by the needs of my children. Just keeping them on task is enough to drive anyone crazy, not even taking into consideration all the other things I do for them daily, grouped before school and after school.
It's not that they're helpless. I think the issue is just that they are each involved in their own things. Yesterday morning, when I had to run and get my bath before taking them to school, I had Deanna quiz Dane on his spelling words. Very often they do that for each other. But they never think of it themselves. I have to put the words in their hands and tell them to do it.
Daelyn can't read well enough yet to follow directions on his homework, so he needs me to sit right with him. And Deanna always has this problem or that problem to which I must attend. Dane seldom asks for anything. He studies on his own and I rarely even know what he's working on. However, this has created problems in the past with him waiting until the last minute to work on a big project, so I work hard at quizzing him about what he needs to do.
My father called week before last and asked me to do something for him at 3:30. I just laughed. From 2:50, when I leave to pick up the children, until around 8 pm, there's no peace and not a free moment in our house. Unless you've sat at our kitchen table in the morning, observing the organization equal to the Academy Awards Show, you'd never quite appreciate what we accomplish from 7:30 to 8:15 each morning.
Nine months is such a long time to have to deal with all these "issues". I'm already counting the days til summer and peace in our home.
But I better run. I have a dishwasher to unload and laundry to start.
I try and keep them all in the kitchen after school to do homework. But Dane has to do research on the computer and he doesn't know how to do that yet. He needs Mom to sit with him and show him how to use a Search Engine. Meanwhile, Deanna is complaining because she has a spelling test the next day and finally brought her words home. However, the scanner/printer is out of black ink.
"Just scan it to a PDF file, then choose the print option and change the printer to the HP," I tell her.
What are you saying? Are you speaking English? I remember many situations where IT people were explaining some application to me and I was totally convinced they weren't speaking English. She needs to be shown how to do this "change the printer" thing.
Meanwhile, Daelyn has escaped. With no one sitting at the table reading his homework directions to him, he's taken advantage of the lag in time to run outside and play. When I finish with Dane and Deanna, I head back to the kitchen. The spaghetti sauce is bubbling nicely, but Daelyn is still gone. I send Dane out to fetch him. 15 minutes later, he returns.
"We need to do your homework," I pronounce, a little shortly. I try to juggle phone calls and preparing dinner and doing preparations for the next day's lunches while he works on his work. Water bottles from today have to be taken out of their insulated pack, refilled, and put in freezer. Drinks for tomorrow need to be readied. I glance at the lunch menu for the next day. Great! I don't have Lunchables and Wednesday is Lunchables day. And there's no time to run to the store. I'll just have to make do.
In the morning, I make porridge for breakfast (today's hot cereal morning), then begin the task of lunches again. Each child wants something different. Deanna wants cheese and crackers. Daelyn wants mac-n-cheese, which I have to make, and Dane's feeling bad and doesn't want anything. What to do about Dane? Maybe soup will taste good to him and not hurt his throat going down.
I put juice on the table - the boys get one kind, Deanna another. Then I carefully pour Daelyn's antibiotic and put it out while the porridge is simmering. No children yet. I put Probiotics at each child's place - as much as they've been on antibiotics lately, they need to add some good bacteria into their digestive systems.
I grab scriptures and spelling words for review. One boy wanders into the kitchen from outside with the dog in tow. Oh, yeah, I think. I need to get his sinus rinse ready. I begin to wash out and disinfect his bottle in preparation for today.
All told, I review three sets of spelling words every morning (four if Deanna's remembered her Spanish words), a monthly and a weekly scripture, and review vocabulary. I make lunches, dole out medicines, answer questions, review schedules (Deanna has PE on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Dane has it on Tuesday, Daelyn on Friday, except Daelyn's has been changed to Thursday this week), make sure everyone has the clothes they need for the day, make sure Deanna doesn't have a volleyball game, talk with the children about what's happening in the evening, etc. I just feel like the evenings are too short and the mornings are too crowded.
There's Deanna's hair to brush, the boys have to be reminded to brush their teeth and put their lunch boxes and water bottles in their backpacks, EVERYONE has to be reminded to clear their stuff off the table (or Donovan climbs up and finished off the people food), and one day last week, we were headed out to the van when I noticed Dane was still in his tennis shoes from walking the dog, not his school shoes.
Too much for one little mommy. I'm overwhelmed by the needs of my children. Just keeping them on task is enough to drive anyone crazy, not even taking into consideration all the other things I do for them daily, grouped before school and after school.
It's not that they're helpless. I think the issue is just that they are each involved in their own things. Yesterday morning, when I had to run and get my bath before taking them to school, I had Deanna quiz Dane on his spelling words. Very often they do that for each other. But they never think of it themselves. I have to put the words in their hands and tell them to do it.
Daelyn can't read well enough yet to follow directions on his homework, so he needs me to sit right with him. And Deanna always has this problem or that problem to which I must attend. Dane seldom asks for anything. He studies on his own and I rarely even know what he's working on. However, this has created problems in the past with him waiting until the last minute to work on a big project, so I work hard at quizzing him about what he needs to do.
My father called week before last and asked me to do something for him at 3:30. I just laughed. From 2:50, when I leave to pick up the children, until around 8 pm, there's no peace and not a free moment in our house. Unless you've sat at our kitchen table in the morning, observing the organization equal to the Academy Awards Show, you'd never quite appreciate what we accomplish from 7:30 to 8:15 each morning.
Nine months is such a long time to have to deal with all these "issues". I'm already counting the days til summer and peace in our home.
But I better run. I have a dishwasher to unload and laundry to start.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Ricochet Effect
Deanna asked for advice this morning. The basic gist is that they don't have assigned seats in several of her classes. She's hot-natured and some of the girls have claimed Squatter's Rights to certain seats directly in front of the fan. Deanna wanted to know if there was a polite way to sit in one of these seats without causing problems.
"If I were you, I'd get to class early and choose the seat I want. If anyone comments that you're in their chair, look around casually, then comment, 'I didn't see your name on it!'"
We practiced several renditions of the same response. I also suggested responding with, "Talk to the teacher!" If they ask if you've done the research you were assigned, respond, "Talk to the teacher!" If they ask how you're doing today, respond "Talk to the teacher!"
By the time Deanna left for school, she was laughing and saw this whole issue from a very different, humorous perspective.
On the way home this afternoon, I asked how school had gone and if she tried out a different seat.
"I sure did, Mama. I sat right in front of the fan."
"And did anyone say anything to you?"
"Yep. _____ came up and said, 'Deanna, you're sitting in my seat.'"
My ears perked up and I looked at her, one eyebrow raised.
"What did you do, hon?"
"I looked to the right, then to the left, and said, 'I didn't see your name on it.'"
"Good for you! I'm proud of you. You stood up for yourself."
"Yeah. Except, when we stood up to pray, I saw a note stuck to the seat that said, '______'s seat'!"
My mouth dropped open. Deanna cracked up.
"________ said, 'No wonder you didn't see my name on it - you were sitting on it!'"
So much for my good advice.
"If I were you, I'd get to class early and choose the seat I want. If anyone comments that you're in their chair, look around casually, then comment, 'I didn't see your name on it!'"
We practiced several renditions of the same response. I also suggested responding with, "Talk to the teacher!" If they ask if you've done the research you were assigned, respond, "Talk to the teacher!" If they ask how you're doing today, respond "Talk to the teacher!"
By the time Deanna left for school, she was laughing and saw this whole issue from a very different, humorous perspective.
On the way home this afternoon, I asked how school had gone and if she tried out a different seat.
"I sure did, Mama. I sat right in front of the fan."
"And did anyone say anything to you?"
"Yep. _____ came up and said, 'Deanna, you're sitting in my seat.'"
My ears perked up and I looked at her, one eyebrow raised.
"What did you do, hon?"
"I looked to the right, then to the left, and said, 'I didn't see your name on it.'"
"Good for you! I'm proud of you. You stood up for yourself."
"Yeah. Except, when we stood up to pray, I saw a note stuck to the seat that said, '______'s seat'!"
My mouth dropped open. Deanna cracked up.
"________ said, 'No wonder you didn't see my name on it - you were sitting on it!'"
So much for my good advice.
Needed
I did take my Mom and sister to Alabama this weekend to see the baby. Mom had gotten word that she was able to be held and couldn't wait to get her hands on that baby.
All three of us got to see her and Mom and I got to hold her. She's just precious, absolutely darling. When I talked to her, she would get real still and look me dead in the eyes, never turning her gaze away. I told her all about her cousins who call me Mom. We had a wonderful visit.
We also got to spend some time with my nephew and his wife. Chad is very special to me and Rachel is such a wonderful addition to the family. I watched her with the baby. She's gentle and sweet, so loving and caring with Reagan. You could see the incredible bond between mother and daughter. And my sister, Amanda's mother, who missed their wedding to be with Amanda in the hospital, was able to meet her new niece-in-law and visit a little with her nephew, which she needed. All-in-all, it was a wonderful visit.
I did all the driving. And talked with my sister and my mom, which was wonderful. It's been a long time since I had, literally, hours stretched out for us to visit. It was a refreshing change from my day-to-day, answering questions non-stop, life.
We got home around 9:30 Saturday night. As I pulled into the driveway, there was a strange vehicle at the end of the driveway and our van was missing. I turned off the car and came through the front door.
Dane ran to me, hugged me, then cuddled under my arm and whispered, "We had an accident in the van!" I waited patiently until I had greeted everyone, then asked about the van. Little by little, the story of my two days away came out.
Don decided to take the children for a nice, long bike ride along the canal that spurs off the Savannah River. There's a strip of land between the canal and the river with trees and a walking path. It's quite a nice ride with shade and cool water to soak your feet when they get tired. He loaded the bikes up, got the kids settled in the van, then pulled forward out of the driveway - right into an oncoming car.
He said she must have been flying around the curve. Just past our house, there's a rather significant curve in the road. Over the years, many people have driven far too fast and missed the road, ending up in neighbors yards or hitting phone poles along the route. She was coming from his right and rounded the corner just as he pulled out.
The woman immediately called her husband who, according to Deanna, appeared in seconds. They looked over the damage and agreed not to call the police or involve insurance companies. Don had some cash on hand that he offered and they accepted. Everyone got back in their cars and headed on their way. I'm sure the man must have realized that involving the police would be detrimental to his wife - she couldn't have been going the speed limit and not had time to stop. But all the same, I'm glad it was handled so efficiently and peacefully.
Don and the kids arrived at the canal and suited up for their bike ride. Somewhere down the path, with Deanna in the lead and the boys and Don following, Don hit a rut where the road was a little washed out and flew over his handlebars. He has scratches, bruises, road burn, and a large gash on his knee. He said he had difficulty stopping the bleeding from his knee and, eventually, used the cold water to help. Deanna was pretty shaken, but the boys thought it was cool. Don did NOT think it was cool and seemed very unhappy when telling me about it that I wasn't there to take care of him. I felt awful.
About a half hour after arriving home, Daelyn began throwing up. I think he had a stomach bug. Quite an eventful weekend. Now I'm worried about the Women's Retreat out of town that I'm going to on Friday and won't return from until Sunday. My mother suggested we hire a babysitter for Don.
As we prepared for bed Saturday night and he told me about all the "incidents", I could hear a catch in his voice. He really had struggled to deal with all these issues without me home.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you, honey," I said.
"That's okay. I understand. But we really needed Mommy," he responded.
Don very seldom says things like that. I guess I don't often feel NEEDED by him - appreciated - sometimes, loved - always, but seldom needed. I sure felt it Saturday night.
All three of us got to see her and Mom and I got to hold her. She's just precious, absolutely darling. When I talked to her, she would get real still and look me dead in the eyes, never turning her gaze away. I told her all about her cousins who call me Mom. We had a wonderful visit.
We also got to spend some time with my nephew and his wife. Chad is very special to me and Rachel is such a wonderful addition to the family. I watched her with the baby. She's gentle and sweet, so loving and caring with Reagan. You could see the incredible bond between mother and daughter. And my sister, Amanda's mother, who missed their wedding to be with Amanda in the hospital, was able to meet her new niece-in-law and visit a little with her nephew, which she needed. All-in-all, it was a wonderful visit.
I did all the driving. And talked with my sister and my mom, which was wonderful. It's been a long time since I had, literally, hours stretched out for us to visit. It was a refreshing change from my day-to-day, answering questions non-stop, life.
We got home around 9:30 Saturday night. As I pulled into the driveway, there was a strange vehicle at the end of the driveway and our van was missing. I turned off the car and came through the front door.
Dane ran to me, hugged me, then cuddled under my arm and whispered, "We had an accident in the van!" I waited patiently until I had greeted everyone, then asked about the van. Little by little, the story of my two days away came out.
Don decided to take the children for a nice, long bike ride along the canal that spurs off the Savannah River. There's a strip of land between the canal and the river with trees and a walking path. It's quite a nice ride with shade and cool water to soak your feet when they get tired. He loaded the bikes up, got the kids settled in the van, then pulled forward out of the driveway - right into an oncoming car.
He said she must have been flying around the curve. Just past our house, there's a rather significant curve in the road. Over the years, many people have driven far too fast and missed the road, ending up in neighbors yards or hitting phone poles along the route. She was coming from his right and rounded the corner just as he pulled out.
The woman immediately called her husband who, according to Deanna, appeared in seconds. They looked over the damage and agreed not to call the police or involve insurance companies. Don had some cash on hand that he offered and they accepted. Everyone got back in their cars and headed on their way. I'm sure the man must have realized that involving the police would be detrimental to his wife - she couldn't have been going the speed limit and not had time to stop. But all the same, I'm glad it was handled so efficiently and peacefully.
Don and the kids arrived at the canal and suited up for their bike ride. Somewhere down the path, with Deanna in the lead and the boys and Don following, Don hit a rut where the road was a little washed out and flew over his handlebars. He has scratches, bruises, road burn, and a large gash on his knee. He said he had difficulty stopping the bleeding from his knee and, eventually, used the cold water to help. Deanna was pretty shaken, but the boys thought it was cool. Don did NOT think it was cool and seemed very unhappy when telling me about it that I wasn't there to take care of him. I felt awful.
About a half hour after arriving home, Daelyn began throwing up. I think he had a stomach bug. Quite an eventful weekend. Now I'm worried about the Women's Retreat out of town that I'm going to on Friday and won't return from until Sunday. My mother suggested we hire a babysitter for Don.
As we prepared for bed Saturday night and he told me about all the "incidents", I could hear a catch in his voice. He really had struggled to deal with all these issues without me home.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you, honey," I said.
"That's okay. I understand. But we really needed Mommy," he responded.
Don very seldom says things like that. I guess I don't often feel NEEDED by him - appreciated - sometimes, loved - always, but seldom needed. I sure felt it Saturday night.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Promises for Today
We've been working on health issues again this week. Yesterday, I took Dane to the ENT for a follow-up. Because he's been having headaches, they did another CT scan. It wasn't perfect, there is some accumulation of mucous in some of his sinuses, but it was pretty good when looked at in total. And far better than his earlier scan. The doctor said he wouldn't do anything different at this point and to call if we had problems in the future. It was a very encouraging appointment.
I placed a call to the Pediatric Allergist that had put Daelyn and Deanna on antibiotics on Monday. I didn't think they were working. After talking with her, she agreed and switched them to another antibiotic. I haven't yet seen any improvement, but am hoping for some soon.
Don has an appointment this afternoon with his ENT. Hopefully, he'll get a good report. He's still having some headaches but he also seems to be improving.
And I'm FINE! It's so nice to say that. FINE. JUST DANDY! I can breath, which is a huge improvement for me. And I'm not congested. I don't think I've gone two week in my entire life without congestion. I go to bed clear, sleep soundly, and wake up in the morning able to breath. It's wonderful to have oxygen pouring into my sinuses. And I feel really good; a little tired, perhaps, but I've decided that's the pace of our lives.
I may be taking my mother to Alabama this weekend to see the baby. She can now be held and it would be wonderful to hold that precious little girl. Great-Grandma can hardly stand it. But we had several things on the calendar that I'm having to attempt to rearrange, and can't yet be certain I'll work it all out. I'm hopeful, though.
I do have one prayer request. Daelyn is having difficulty hearing and it's affecting his school performance. He can't hear directions. He told me yesterday that he only hears about two words out of every sentence his teacher utters and he has to try and figure it out. He's spending a lot of time thinking hard about the papers in front of him and the words he distinguished from her directions so he can do his work. She did move him right next to her desk yesterday. We're both hoping this will help.
I called his Allergist yesterday. They said that he definately had fluid on his ear which can cause difficulty hearing and that it may take up to two weeks to reabsorb. I also called his Pediatrician. He last had his hearing checked in May/07 and it was fine. They said they won't recheck his hearing if he's being treated for an ear infection. That we'll have to give it a couple more weeks and see how he does.
I'm praying that's all it is. His teacher has some other concerns, like lack of focus, but I can see how it would be possible for all of this to be caused by an inability to hear. I'm going into his classroom for 1/2 hour today to observe. But I'm praying for dramatic improvement with him sitting so close to her.
It's been a very emotional week for me - lots of ups and downs, more downs than ups. By last night, I just felt like I needed to sit down and have a good cry. Some friends at church encouraged me to get a nice glass of wine and relax for a few minutes before bed. I did. I put my feet up, ate some popcorn, and drank a glass of wine while visiting with Don (pouring out my heart to him, actually). I slept very soundly and feel a little better today - at least from a disposition standpoint.
Today has its own challenges. Time to put away the challenges of Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and focus on today. The Lord has much to teach me and today is a Fast Day, so I'm sure he'll speak clearly. I want to be able to listen.
I've been praying some bold prayers this month and asking the Lord to dramatically change some things in my life. I'm beginning to feel differently in some areas, so I think He may be answering these deep desires for holiness. I sure hope so.
And today is a new day and with it comes great promise.
I placed a call to the Pediatric Allergist that had put Daelyn and Deanna on antibiotics on Monday. I didn't think they were working. After talking with her, she agreed and switched them to another antibiotic. I haven't yet seen any improvement, but am hoping for some soon.
Don has an appointment this afternoon with his ENT. Hopefully, he'll get a good report. He's still having some headaches but he also seems to be improving.
And I'm FINE! It's so nice to say that. FINE. JUST DANDY! I can breath, which is a huge improvement for me. And I'm not congested. I don't think I've gone two week in my entire life without congestion. I go to bed clear, sleep soundly, and wake up in the morning able to breath. It's wonderful to have oxygen pouring into my sinuses. And I feel really good; a little tired, perhaps, but I've decided that's the pace of our lives.
I may be taking my mother to Alabama this weekend to see the baby. She can now be held and it would be wonderful to hold that precious little girl. Great-Grandma can hardly stand it. But we had several things on the calendar that I'm having to attempt to rearrange, and can't yet be certain I'll work it all out. I'm hopeful, though.
I do have one prayer request. Daelyn is having difficulty hearing and it's affecting his school performance. He can't hear directions. He told me yesterday that he only hears about two words out of every sentence his teacher utters and he has to try and figure it out. He's spending a lot of time thinking hard about the papers in front of him and the words he distinguished from her directions so he can do his work. She did move him right next to her desk yesterday. We're both hoping this will help.
I called his Allergist yesterday. They said that he definately had fluid on his ear which can cause difficulty hearing and that it may take up to two weeks to reabsorb. I also called his Pediatrician. He last had his hearing checked in May/07 and it was fine. They said they won't recheck his hearing if he's being treated for an ear infection. That we'll have to give it a couple more weeks and see how he does.
I'm praying that's all it is. His teacher has some other concerns, like lack of focus, but I can see how it would be possible for all of this to be caused by an inability to hear. I'm going into his classroom for 1/2 hour today to observe. But I'm praying for dramatic improvement with him sitting so close to her.
It's been a very emotional week for me - lots of ups and downs, more downs than ups. By last night, I just felt like I needed to sit down and have a good cry. Some friends at church encouraged me to get a nice glass of wine and relax for a few minutes before bed. I did. I put my feet up, ate some popcorn, and drank a glass of wine while visiting with Don (pouring out my heart to him, actually). I slept very soundly and feel a little better today - at least from a disposition standpoint.
Today has its own challenges. Time to put away the challenges of Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and focus on today. The Lord has much to teach me and today is a Fast Day, so I'm sure he'll speak clearly. I want to be able to listen.
I've been praying some bold prayers this month and asking the Lord to dramatically change some things in my life. I'm beginning to feel differently in some areas, so I think He may be answering these deep desires for holiness. I sure hope so.
And today is a new day and with it comes great promise.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Sleepers in this House
Last year I realized that we needed to make some drastic changes in our family schedule. The children were not getting enough sleep and were very grumpy. We rushed through every weekday and the constant rushing was putting way too much stress on all of us. I decided that the children needed to get up earlier so the morning would be more peaceful. That meant going to bed sooner, which impacted dinnertime, chores, and homework. So I revised our whole family schedule.
By a month into the school year, it was obvious it was working. The children were happier, they had time to relax and play in the mornings, we were able to finish up any school work not completed (or forgotten about) the night before, and there was ample time to review scriptures, spelling words, write notes to teachers, etc.
Deanna, however, was a little perplexed.
"Mom, this year my bedtime is 7 p.m. Last year it was 8. The year before, it was 8:30. If we continue this way, by the time I get to high school, I'll be going to bed as soon as school's out!"
I couldn't help but laugh. It sure looked that way. But, truthfully, all my children require a lot of sleep and I don't want to have to live with sleep-deprived adolescents.
This year, she's in middle school and her bedtime is still 7. During the summer, we let the children stay up until 8. Truth is, they haven't yet gotten in bed by 7 and they were almost never in bed by 8 over the summer. Deanna, in particular, I worry less about. She's older and more mature and can better handle a late night occasionally.
Last week, one of her friends called and asked Deanna to meet her to practice volleyball before their game the next afternoon. Deanna snapped at her, "I'm in my pajamas. I'm going to bed. I can't meet you!" The girls had been pulled out of their last class and had spent two hours practicing volleyball. She was completely spent and had headed straight for the shower after school.
I was sitting next to her. I tapped her and quietly said, "You don't really have to be in bed at 7 tonight. You could go practice for awhile."
She glared and shushed me. Then continued the conversation with her friend.
"My bedtime's 7. I have to go to bed."
It took me a couple of minutes to figure it out. She was too embarrassed to tell her friend she was just plain worn out and wanted to climb in bed. It was less humiliating to blame her early slumber on me.
Last night, the same friend called again and asked if Deanna would practice with her. Deanna was standing at the kitchen counter, ready for bed, taking her bedtime medicine. Her half of the conversation went something like this.
"No, I'm in my pajamas. I'm going to bed. U-huh. No. 8:00, but that was during the summer. No. Seven. Yes, Seven. Seven o'clock." She turned while talking and grinned at me, a twinkle in her eye.
After hanging up, she turned to me. "They just can't understand that I go to bed at 7. She said the other girls had told her I go to bed at 8. I explained that that's my summer schedule."
"Do you need a little more sleep, darling?" I egged her on. "We could make your bedtime 6. While the rest of the world is sitting at the dinner table, you can be heading to bed."
She cracked up. The humor of a 7 p.m. bedtime for a middle-schooler hit her suddenly. It really IS funny. I know children years younger than her that routinely go to bed at 9. But perhaps they need less sleep. In our house, we KNOW we need lots of sleep and 7:00 is a VERY reasonable bedtime.
"You know, honey," I continued, "if it'll help, we can start taking you out of school at 2 so we can have dinner by 4 and you can be in the bed by 5:00!"
She grinned back at me. At least I don't have to fight her over bedtime, like so many other parents.
By a month into the school year, it was obvious it was working. The children were happier, they had time to relax and play in the mornings, we were able to finish up any school work not completed (or forgotten about) the night before, and there was ample time to review scriptures, spelling words, write notes to teachers, etc.
Deanna, however, was a little perplexed.
"Mom, this year my bedtime is 7 p.m. Last year it was 8. The year before, it was 8:30. If we continue this way, by the time I get to high school, I'll be going to bed as soon as school's out!"
I couldn't help but laugh. It sure looked that way. But, truthfully, all my children require a lot of sleep and I don't want to have to live with sleep-deprived adolescents.
This year, she's in middle school and her bedtime is still 7. During the summer, we let the children stay up until 8. Truth is, they haven't yet gotten in bed by 7 and they were almost never in bed by 8 over the summer. Deanna, in particular, I worry less about. She's older and more mature and can better handle a late night occasionally.
Last week, one of her friends called and asked Deanna to meet her to practice volleyball before their game the next afternoon. Deanna snapped at her, "I'm in my pajamas. I'm going to bed. I can't meet you!" The girls had been pulled out of their last class and had spent two hours practicing volleyball. She was completely spent and had headed straight for the shower after school.
I was sitting next to her. I tapped her and quietly said, "You don't really have to be in bed at 7 tonight. You could go practice for awhile."
She glared and shushed me. Then continued the conversation with her friend.
"My bedtime's 7. I have to go to bed."
It took me a couple of minutes to figure it out. She was too embarrassed to tell her friend she was just plain worn out and wanted to climb in bed. It was less humiliating to blame her early slumber on me.
Last night, the same friend called again and asked if Deanna would practice with her. Deanna was standing at the kitchen counter, ready for bed, taking her bedtime medicine. Her half of the conversation went something like this.
"No, I'm in my pajamas. I'm going to bed. U-huh. No. 8:00, but that was during the summer. No. Seven. Yes, Seven. Seven o'clock." She turned while talking and grinned at me, a twinkle in her eye.
After hanging up, she turned to me. "They just can't understand that I go to bed at 7. She said the other girls had told her I go to bed at 8. I explained that that's my summer schedule."
"Do you need a little more sleep, darling?" I egged her on. "We could make your bedtime 6. While the rest of the world is sitting at the dinner table, you can be heading to bed."
She cracked up. The humor of a 7 p.m. bedtime for a middle-schooler hit her suddenly. It really IS funny. I know children years younger than her that routinely go to bed at 9. But perhaps they need less sleep. In our house, we KNOW we need lots of sleep and 7:00 is a VERY reasonable bedtime.
"You know, honey," I continued, "if it'll help, we can start taking you out of school at 2 so we can have dinner by 4 and you can be in the bed by 5:00!"
She grinned back at me. At least I don't have to fight her over bedtime, like so many other parents.
Monday, September 15, 2008
It's Still on My Mind
It's these e-mails from my mother-in-law, getting me thinking about Christmas. She wrote again this weekend asking for gift ideas and about Christmas dinner. She also mentioned that they put their tree up very close to Christmas, sometimes on Christmas Eve.
Just thinking about that gave me goosebumps. We've never been able to pull off waiting that long - for 2 reasons. One, there are no nice trees available that late in the season. It's just too hot in Georgia for them to be cut in November and stay fresh until December 24. Out of necessity, we purchase, get in water, and decorate earlier. Two, our Christmas Eve is always so-o-o-o-o busy. There's food to make, last minute presents to wrap, gifts to deliver, etc. I'm sure everyone has a busy Christmas Eve.
But, this year, we'll have to have everything done before we leave for West Virginia, so there shouldn't be anything left to get done on Christmas Eve, except cooking up there. I got this image in my mind of a fire in the fireplace, Christmas music wafting softly through the house, the smell of pies baking in the oven, the fresh scent of a tree, and me and the children in our slippers laughing and humming as we decorate the tree with Don, Grandma and Grandpa. I can't imagine a better way to spend the morning on Christmas Eve. It's all so dreamy!
This is going to be a Christmas we'll never forget. All together, in one house. Two years ago, in England, our Christmas was wonderful, though very different. What I liked the most was not having to hurry to get dressed so we could get to Grandma's. I asked Don what time we should plan on eating Christmas dinner and he said, "Whenever it's ready. Don't stress yourself over a specific time. Start cooking when you're ready, and we'll eat when it's done."
It was so peaceful, the most peaceful Christmas I can remember since having children. I could hear the sounds of the children playing together with their new toys, the excitement lingering in the air. I had taken several Christmas CD's and Don put them on the computer to play for me. Every now and then, he'd wander into the kitchen and ask if I needed help or just put his arms around me and give me a quick squeeze. All was right in the world, even though our world that year was hundreds of miles from home and family.
I guess my expectations for this year are to have that same sense of peace while being right with family. I'm sure this is going to be a very different holiday for my in-law's and, I hope, not too loud and busy, but everytime I think about it, I want to go and wrap more presents.
If I get too excited, I guess I can always step outside in the 90 degree weather. That ought to slow down my visions of snow and sugarplums just a little.
Just thinking about that gave me goosebumps. We've never been able to pull off waiting that long - for 2 reasons. One, there are no nice trees available that late in the season. It's just too hot in Georgia for them to be cut in November and stay fresh until December 24. Out of necessity, we purchase, get in water, and decorate earlier. Two, our Christmas Eve is always so-o-o-o-o busy. There's food to make, last minute presents to wrap, gifts to deliver, etc. I'm sure everyone has a busy Christmas Eve.
But, this year, we'll have to have everything done before we leave for West Virginia, so there shouldn't be anything left to get done on Christmas Eve, except cooking up there. I got this image in my mind of a fire in the fireplace, Christmas music wafting softly through the house, the smell of pies baking in the oven, the fresh scent of a tree, and me and the children in our slippers laughing and humming as we decorate the tree with Don, Grandma and Grandpa. I can't imagine a better way to spend the morning on Christmas Eve. It's all so dreamy!
This is going to be a Christmas we'll never forget. All together, in one house. Two years ago, in England, our Christmas was wonderful, though very different. What I liked the most was not having to hurry to get dressed so we could get to Grandma's. I asked Don what time we should plan on eating Christmas dinner and he said, "Whenever it's ready. Don't stress yourself over a specific time. Start cooking when you're ready, and we'll eat when it's done."
It was so peaceful, the most peaceful Christmas I can remember since having children. I could hear the sounds of the children playing together with their new toys, the excitement lingering in the air. I had taken several Christmas CD's and Don put them on the computer to play for me. Every now and then, he'd wander into the kitchen and ask if I needed help or just put his arms around me and give me a quick squeeze. All was right in the world, even though our world that year was hundreds of miles from home and family.
I guess my expectations for this year are to have that same sense of peace while being right with family. I'm sure this is going to be a very different holiday for my in-law's and, I hope, not too loud and busy, but everytime I think about it, I want to go and wrap more presents.
If I get too excited, I guess I can always step outside in the 90 degree weather. That ought to slow down my visions of snow and sugarplums just a little.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I Caught a Scent of It
We're planning on trying to spend Christmas with Don's parents this year. I talked to my mother-in-law about a week ago and told her when the children got out of school. We discussed when we should come up and she said she'd get back with me. I just got an e-mail from her with a date - Sunday, December 21 they'd like us to arrive.
She also asked what my expectations for Christmas were. I wrote a book for her. Just thinking about it has gotten me excited.
I love Christmas. I love traditions, I love cold weather, I love singing carols, I love the stories and sitting around a fireplace, I love hot drinks and the excitement that almost sizzles in the air. I love driving around and looking at lights and spending time with good friends and going to parties. I just plain love Christmas.
I don't even mind the hustle and bustle and commercialism. I try and get my shopping done early so I don't get caught up in it all and can just enjoy strolling through the Mall or running errands.
The air conditioning just came on to cool the house down for sleeping. The vent is next to me and is blowing cold air up my pajama leg. That might have something to do with this mood but, OH! I just can't wait. And to think that we'll be spending this year with Grandma and Grandpa Doughty makes it even more wonderful.
I know that, liturgically, Easter is a more important holiday. But I love Christmas.
A little over three months - - - and counting.
She also asked what my expectations for Christmas were. I wrote a book for her. Just thinking about it has gotten me excited.
I love Christmas. I love traditions, I love cold weather, I love singing carols, I love the stories and sitting around a fireplace, I love hot drinks and the excitement that almost sizzles in the air. I love driving around and looking at lights and spending time with good friends and going to parties. I just plain love Christmas.
I don't even mind the hustle and bustle and commercialism. I try and get my shopping done early so I don't get caught up in it all and can just enjoy strolling through the Mall or running errands.
The air conditioning just came on to cool the house down for sleeping. The vent is next to me and is blowing cold air up my pajama leg. That might have something to do with this mood but, OH! I just can't wait. And to think that we'll be spending this year with Grandma and Grandpa Doughty makes it even more wonderful.
I know that, liturgically, Easter is a more important holiday. But I love Christmas.
A little over three months - - - and counting.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Daddy's Smile
Baby Reagan is continuing to do better. Monday they took her off the ventilator and the nitris oxide (which I have no idea why she was on to begin with). Her Mommy was able to hold her and, for the first time since her birth August 13, see her full face.
"She's got Chad's lips," Rachel reported. Just hearing the news choked up several members of my family, including me. Chad has turned into a sweet little daddy who's crazy about his precious daughter. Rachel's a darling, committed, loving Mom. We're very pleased with Reagan's progress.
Amanda is due to see a surgeon next week. They want to schedule one reconstructive surgery for fairly soon. And it begins again. Trina has had to put her life on hold to meet Amanda's needs. It's what a Mom does, but it can be hard to stall out. Trina was in her final quarter of school, doing her Internship in Medical Recording, when Amanda had her accident. She's talked with the Department Chair and was told that the curriculum has changed and she'll now have to take two more classes in order to graduate, which she can't do right now with pending surgeries.
And I have some news that I've been trying to process and which I found very upsetting. My ENT sent me to a Hematologist prior to surgery because of my blood-clotting disorders. He wanted an expert to clear me for surgery. The Hematologist, Dr. Limbaugh (like Rush) talked with me extensively about my lifestyle and history. Based on my lack of blood clots and the fact that I have been being treated incorrectly for my disorders, which should have led to more blood clotting, he voiced doubts that I really had these two genetic disorders. One is called MTHFR, the other is Factor II. He feared the doctor who tested me either used an incorrect test or read the results wrong, so he ordered a whole battery of blood tests. This was when they took the 16 vials of blood.
Don and I went back to see him for the results last Friday. I had really gotten my hopes up that I didn't really have these disorders. If not, there were at least 6 pills that I could stop taking daily and I wouldn't have to worry before trips, surgery, or about the genetic part being passed along to my children. This is the very reason I'm so cautious about being optimistic. I didn't realize how badly I wanted him to tell me it was all a mistake, until the appointment.
Not only DO I have Factor II, but he found 3 other genetic blood disorders that I also have - Factor VIII, Factor IX, and Factor XI, two of which are forms of hemophylia, but I had too much instead of too little, which results in over-clotting. MTHFR can only be diagnosed with two positive blood tests within 6 weeks of each other, so we scheduled me for one more blood test because the first one WAS positive. Might as well know for sure what I'm passing to my children and grandchildren.
I don't now why things like this hit me so hard. We had a very interesting conversation, asked all the questions we could think of at the time, then the doctor left the room. I asked Don to close the door and fell apart. He was shocked by my reaction. I was shocked by my reaction. I just felt like the bubble of my life had been burst.
The doctor was very careful to explain that he wasn't concerned, since he goes much more by medical history and less by tests and the only time I've had a clot was when I had a PIC line, which is a huge risk factor for clots all in and of itself. However, he did say that I need one miligram of folic acid daily and to continue taking my baby aspirin even though he had previously told me that the baby aspirin treated the wrong component of my blood. When I asked about that, he explained that the aspirin kept the platelets slick instead of sticky and perhaps it was keeping me from clotting if the other component (that is the one that tends to overclot in me) slid right off instead of sticking to the platelets. He also told me that for two weeks prior to any surgeries or plane trips, I need to take injectable blood thinners (Levonox, which are very painful injections and bruise me terribly) and, the real hard thing for me, I should not squat or kneel or do anything to cause pressure behind my knees and, when traveling by car, I should get out and walk every 1/2 hour.
He later said I could go a full hour before walking around, but even one hour is extreme. I attend meetings that last 2 - 3 hours. What about just sitting around visiting with a friend or watching a good movie with the family. Do I have to constantly be thinking about my need to move? The thought that this is something I'll always have to think about was just more than I could handle.
A good friend of mine who's a Physicians' Assistant knew about my appointment and asked me how it went. I told her, adding, "It's such a hassle!"
Her response: "It'll be more of a hassle if you don't do it, have a stroke, and spend the rest of your life sitting in a chair drooling."
Kind of puts things in perspective. But I'm still struggling to deal emotionally with the impact of possibly 5 genetic blood-clotting disorders. So I'm trying to stay busy, which doesn't require much effort, and let God deal with my emotions as I take care of my family and live responsibly. But prayers for healing sure wouldn't hurt right now.
"She's got Chad's lips," Rachel reported. Just hearing the news choked up several members of my family, including me. Chad has turned into a sweet little daddy who's crazy about his precious daughter. Rachel's a darling, committed, loving Mom. We're very pleased with Reagan's progress.
Amanda is due to see a surgeon next week. They want to schedule one reconstructive surgery for fairly soon. And it begins again. Trina has had to put her life on hold to meet Amanda's needs. It's what a Mom does, but it can be hard to stall out. Trina was in her final quarter of school, doing her Internship in Medical Recording, when Amanda had her accident. She's talked with the Department Chair and was told that the curriculum has changed and she'll now have to take two more classes in order to graduate, which she can't do right now with pending surgeries.
And I have some news that I've been trying to process and which I found very upsetting. My ENT sent me to a Hematologist prior to surgery because of my blood-clotting disorders. He wanted an expert to clear me for surgery. The Hematologist, Dr. Limbaugh (like Rush) talked with me extensively about my lifestyle and history. Based on my lack of blood clots and the fact that I have been being treated incorrectly for my disorders, which should have led to more blood clotting, he voiced doubts that I really had these two genetic disorders. One is called MTHFR, the other is Factor II. He feared the doctor who tested me either used an incorrect test or read the results wrong, so he ordered a whole battery of blood tests. This was when they took the 16 vials of blood.
Don and I went back to see him for the results last Friday. I had really gotten my hopes up that I didn't really have these disorders. If not, there were at least 6 pills that I could stop taking daily and I wouldn't have to worry before trips, surgery, or about the genetic part being passed along to my children. This is the very reason I'm so cautious about being optimistic. I didn't realize how badly I wanted him to tell me it was all a mistake, until the appointment.
Not only DO I have Factor II, but he found 3 other genetic blood disorders that I also have - Factor VIII, Factor IX, and Factor XI, two of which are forms of hemophylia, but I had too much instead of too little, which results in over-clotting. MTHFR can only be diagnosed with two positive blood tests within 6 weeks of each other, so we scheduled me for one more blood test because the first one WAS positive. Might as well know for sure what I'm passing to my children and grandchildren.
I don't now why things like this hit me so hard. We had a very interesting conversation, asked all the questions we could think of at the time, then the doctor left the room. I asked Don to close the door and fell apart. He was shocked by my reaction. I was shocked by my reaction. I just felt like the bubble of my life had been burst.
The doctor was very careful to explain that he wasn't concerned, since he goes much more by medical history and less by tests and the only time I've had a clot was when I had a PIC line, which is a huge risk factor for clots all in and of itself. However, he did say that I need one miligram of folic acid daily and to continue taking my baby aspirin even though he had previously told me that the baby aspirin treated the wrong component of my blood. When I asked about that, he explained that the aspirin kept the platelets slick instead of sticky and perhaps it was keeping me from clotting if the other component (that is the one that tends to overclot in me) slid right off instead of sticking to the platelets. He also told me that for two weeks prior to any surgeries or plane trips, I need to take injectable blood thinners (Levonox, which are very painful injections and bruise me terribly) and, the real hard thing for me, I should not squat or kneel or do anything to cause pressure behind my knees and, when traveling by car, I should get out and walk every 1/2 hour.
He later said I could go a full hour before walking around, but even one hour is extreme. I attend meetings that last 2 - 3 hours. What about just sitting around visiting with a friend or watching a good movie with the family. Do I have to constantly be thinking about my need to move? The thought that this is something I'll always have to think about was just more than I could handle.
A good friend of mine who's a Physicians' Assistant knew about my appointment and asked me how it went. I told her, adding, "It's such a hassle!"
Her response: "It'll be more of a hassle if you don't do it, have a stroke, and spend the rest of your life sitting in a chair drooling."
Kind of puts things in perspective. But I'm still struggling to deal emotionally with the impact of possibly 5 genetic blood-clotting disorders. So I'm trying to stay busy, which doesn't require much effort, and let God deal with my emotions as I take care of my family and live responsibly. But prayers for healing sure wouldn't hurt right now.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Easily Swayed
Deanna: "Mr. Swenson got a new snake. He showed it to us in Science class today. He put a mouse in with it.
Boys: "GROSS!" "Cool!"
Me: "Did he EAT IT?" with great disgust in my voice.
Deanna: "No. And the mouse kept pecking at the snake."
Me: "YAY! I guess so. You'd peck at something, too, if you were just waiting for it to eat you."
Deanna: "I actually almost felt sorry for the snake."
Me: "You've got to be kidding. Snakes are gross."
Deanna: "You wouldn't think so if you heard Mr. Swenson. He told us how everyone thinks snakes are evil but they're really just misunderstood."
Me: "DEANNA! Get over it. Snakes are cursed by God. Satan took the form of a serpent. Man is at enmity with snakes. God made them crawl on their bellies. They're cursed."
Deanna: "So are we."
Me: "Don't talk to me anymore."
I hate it when she's right.
Boys: "GROSS!" "Cool!"
Me: "Did he EAT IT?" with great disgust in my voice.
Deanna: "No. And the mouse kept pecking at the snake."
Me: "YAY! I guess so. You'd peck at something, too, if you were just waiting for it to eat you."
Deanna: "I actually almost felt sorry for the snake."
Me: "You've got to be kidding. Snakes are gross."
Deanna: "You wouldn't think so if you heard Mr. Swenson. He told us how everyone thinks snakes are evil but they're really just misunderstood."
Me: "DEANNA! Get over it. Snakes are cursed by God. Satan took the form of a serpent. Man is at enmity with snakes. God made them crawl on their bellies. They're cursed."
Deanna: "So are we."
Me: "Don't talk to me anymore."
I hate it when she's right.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Cherubs
I'm directing the Cherub Choir at Church this year. I really wanted to work with the children last year, but Don encouraged me to not take on anything else. And it only took two weeks into the school year for me to recognize his wisdom in that advice.
Deanna had Little Sisters after school on Wednesday's twice a month and I helped out in the Kindergarten classroom every Wednesday. With choir practice on Wednesdays, too, I would have been a basket case by bedtime.
But Little Sisters is a closed chapter for Deanna. She's now in Middle School and I won't be helping out much at the school this year. Don and I decided that I needed to take a break this year from other service to focus on helping my parents. Daddy turns 80 next month and I'll spend three days a week this school year taking them to appointments, to run errands, etc. So it was the perfect opportunity to jump into Children's Choir.
Don has decided to take a Sabbatical from directing the Handbell Choir and our Music Director is most willing to work with me so we can go to Don's parents for a week at Christmas and have the freedom to really be a volunteer without being completely tied down. My REAL goal is to begin to teach handbells to the children. I'd love to build a children's handbell choir. On my recommendation last year, the Music Director bought a set of children's bells and has been using them in conjunction with the choir program. I'd like to focus more on the bells, but maybe that will develop next year.
For now, I'm busily picking out simple music with repetitive words to teach the children. They sing twice a month - once at the 9:00 service and once at the 11:30 Contemporary service. That's a lot of stuff that needs to be prepared. Our Music Director has encouraged me to not get stressed or bogged down in details, but to really enjoy working with the children. He's been trying to do all the children's choirs at the same time by himself with only a teenager to help (who's done a fabulous job, despite her tender years) and is very thankful to have an adult to work just with the younger singers for a few minutes each practice.
It'll be hard to live up to him. He probably is a little ADHD and has way more energy than I could EVER hope to muster. And he's worked with children for years. He knows all their little "gotchas" and keeps the pace moving to keep them all involved and interested. He's amazing to watch at practice and impossible to emulate.
Yesterday at church, the teenager who's been working with the little guys asked me if I was excited. Excited, no. Nervous, yes. She reassured me and told me that she'll be there to help. Thank goodness for that.
So, once again, it seems I've gotten myself into something. Now it looks like most of Deanna's volleyball games will be on Wednesdays. It doesn't seem to matter how hard I try, life is just BUSY. We flit from one thing to another, trying hard to keep our composure while explaining to my children that life should be simple and time spent together is more important that staying busy.
Why can't I practice what I preach?
Deanna had Little Sisters after school on Wednesday's twice a month and I helped out in the Kindergarten classroom every Wednesday. With choir practice on Wednesdays, too, I would have been a basket case by bedtime.
But Little Sisters is a closed chapter for Deanna. She's now in Middle School and I won't be helping out much at the school this year. Don and I decided that I needed to take a break this year from other service to focus on helping my parents. Daddy turns 80 next month and I'll spend three days a week this school year taking them to appointments, to run errands, etc. So it was the perfect opportunity to jump into Children's Choir.
Don has decided to take a Sabbatical from directing the Handbell Choir and our Music Director is most willing to work with me so we can go to Don's parents for a week at Christmas and have the freedom to really be a volunteer without being completely tied down. My REAL goal is to begin to teach handbells to the children. I'd love to build a children's handbell choir. On my recommendation last year, the Music Director bought a set of children's bells and has been using them in conjunction with the choir program. I'd like to focus more on the bells, but maybe that will develop next year.
For now, I'm busily picking out simple music with repetitive words to teach the children. They sing twice a month - once at the 9:00 service and once at the 11:30 Contemporary service. That's a lot of stuff that needs to be prepared. Our Music Director has encouraged me to not get stressed or bogged down in details, but to really enjoy working with the children. He's been trying to do all the children's choirs at the same time by himself with only a teenager to help (who's done a fabulous job, despite her tender years) and is very thankful to have an adult to work just with the younger singers for a few minutes each practice.
It'll be hard to live up to him. He probably is a little ADHD and has way more energy than I could EVER hope to muster. And he's worked with children for years. He knows all their little "gotchas" and keeps the pace moving to keep them all involved and interested. He's amazing to watch at practice and impossible to emulate.
Yesterday at church, the teenager who's been working with the little guys asked me if I was excited. Excited, no. Nervous, yes. She reassured me and told me that she'll be there to help. Thank goodness for that.
So, once again, it seems I've gotten myself into something. Now it looks like most of Deanna's volleyball games will be on Wednesdays. It doesn't seem to matter how hard I try, life is just BUSY. We flit from one thing to another, trying hard to keep our composure while explaining to my children that life should be simple and time spent together is more important that staying busy.
Why can't I practice what I preach?
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Racing
Despite Deanna's exhaustion after the game on Friday night, she pleaded with Don and me to have Family Movie Night.
Every year, our family spends September returning to the discipline that lagged horribly over the summer. We limit our media exposure. We spend much more quality time together as a family. We focus on chores, homework, and bedtimes. We eat nutritious meals at regular times. And we spend much more time in Christian study, family prayers, etc.
This year, in preparation for September, I asked the children what they would like to see us do. Daelyn and Dane were quiet, but Deanna had lots of suggestions.
"Why not schedule a family bikeride? And can we have Game Night? What about a Family Movie Night each week and we can watch only Christian movies?"
"I'm not sure we can find that many "Christian" movies, hon," I responded. "Let's think. There's one that came out in theaters about the Englishman who was instrumental in abolishing slavery in England. I think it's called 'Amazing Grace'. Can you think of any others?"
"There's 'Facing the Giants'," Deanna responded. "And the same church that made that made another Christian movie, also."
"Okay. And ever since the Olympics, I've been wanting to rent 'Chariots of Fire' for you guys. That's a few. We may be able to do it, after all."
So, while I was throwing dinner together Friday night, I called our local Blockbuster. To my surprise, they had both 'Chariots of Fire' and 'Amazing Grace'. I decided to pick up the former for this weekend, afraid the further we get away from the Olympics, the less likely they are to have a copy.
I hadn't seen it since it first came out and had forgotten lots of the details. As I watched the story unfold, I wondered why this had been such a popular movie. By today's standards, it's hard to follow and slow-moving. Other than the music, the subject matter is fairly deep and certainly too much for children . . . or so I thought.
I did help explain the two storylines that were juxtaposed. On the one hand, you have the Jewish man who feels he must win in order to justify his existence. On the other, you have the Christian who justifies his running because of his existence. Harold Abrahams can't bear to lose and will do anything to win. Eric Liddle runs as his third love - the first is God, the second is the mission field. His only real reason to run is that God gave him this gift and he believes he should use it.
I was shocked that the children seemed to really grasp the story. As deep as it is, they clearly could see that one man ran for identity, the other because of his identity.
During the movie, we noticed a very loud, persistent noise and realized that Daelyn had fallen asleep between us on the couch and was snoring. We all took time to look at his sweet little face in slumber before Don carried him off to bed. We finished the movie without the youngest Doughty.
Yesterday, between cartoons, Daelyn put the DVD back in again. And again today. The movie seemed to draw him. Despite the intensity and adult subject matter, he really enjoyed it, as did the other two.
Next week, I'll rent 'Amazing Grace' and we'll see if that has as much of an impact on the children. I guess the Lord is accomplishing much this September as we grow closer to Him and each other.
Every year, our family spends September returning to the discipline that lagged horribly over the summer. We limit our media exposure. We spend much more quality time together as a family. We focus on chores, homework, and bedtimes. We eat nutritious meals at regular times. And we spend much more time in Christian study, family prayers, etc.
This year, in preparation for September, I asked the children what they would like to see us do. Daelyn and Dane were quiet, but Deanna had lots of suggestions.
"Why not schedule a family bikeride? And can we have Game Night? What about a Family Movie Night each week and we can watch only Christian movies?"
"I'm not sure we can find that many "Christian" movies, hon," I responded. "Let's think. There's one that came out in theaters about the Englishman who was instrumental in abolishing slavery in England. I think it's called 'Amazing Grace'. Can you think of any others?"
"There's 'Facing the Giants'," Deanna responded. "And the same church that made that made another Christian movie, also."
"Okay. And ever since the Olympics, I've been wanting to rent 'Chariots of Fire' for you guys. That's a few. We may be able to do it, after all."
So, while I was throwing dinner together Friday night, I called our local Blockbuster. To my surprise, they had both 'Chariots of Fire' and 'Amazing Grace'. I decided to pick up the former for this weekend, afraid the further we get away from the Olympics, the less likely they are to have a copy.
I hadn't seen it since it first came out and had forgotten lots of the details. As I watched the story unfold, I wondered why this had been such a popular movie. By today's standards, it's hard to follow and slow-moving. Other than the music, the subject matter is fairly deep and certainly too much for children . . . or so I thought.
I did help explain the two storylines that were juxtaposed. On the one hand, you have the Jewish man who feels he must win in order to justify his existence. On the other, you have the Christian who justifies his running because of his existence. Harold Abrahams can't bear to lose and will do anything to win. Eric Liddle runs as his third love - the first is God, the second is the mission field. His only real reason to run is that God gave him this gift and he believes he should use it.
I was shocked that the children seemed to really grasp the story. As deep as it is, they clearly could see that one man ran for identity, the other because of his identity.
During the movie, we noticed a very loud, persistent noise and realized that Daelyn had fallen asleep between us on the couch and was snoring. We all took time to look at his sweet little face in slumber before Don carried him off to bed. We finished the movie without the youngest Doughty.
Yesterday, between cartoons, Daelyn put the DVD back in again. And again today. The movie seemed to draw him. Despite the intensity and adult subject matter, he really enjoyed it, as did the other two.
Next week, I'll rent 'Amazing Grace' and we'll see if that has as much of an impact on the children. I guess the Lord is accomplishing much this September as we grow closer to Him and each other.
Saturday, September 06, 2008
What Season is It? Volleyball Season
Deanna found out mid-week that all the 6th grade girls form the Middle School Girls' Volleyball "B" Team. Their first game was last night - 4 days into school, with not even a practice together.
Some of the girls (by some, I mean about 3) attended a week-long volleyball camp this summer with the older middle school girls, but they still had not played as a team, and that was a couple of months ago. The Principal took all the girls out of Bible class and combined that time with their PE class so they had 2 hours of practice on Thursday at the end of the day. Deanna came home from school beet red and sweaty and headed straight for the shower. Not knowing if I'd be home on Friday or not because of Baby Reagan's condition, I made arrangements for Deanna to ride with another mom to the game after school on Friday. The other mom, a veteran of middle school, told me that they would most likely get their uniforms during the day on Friday and should be prepared to change after last period and leave right after school to allow them time to warm up.
Since I was home after all, Don, the boys and I loaded up and headed to the game. There was a stalled car on the off-ramp blocking traffic which delayed us, but we arrived 10- minutes into the first game, just in time to see Deanna contact with the ball.
I was amazed! She was taken out twice for short times, but played the majority of all three games. Turns out, she's quite a good little volleyball player. She serves very well and her bumping (that's what they call it now in volleyball, when you get a chance to touch the ball) is very solid, also, but can use a little more control. About half the time, the ball went out-of-bounds, but I noticed her average was better than many of the girls on the opposing team.
After the game, she asked me if I thought she was an aggressive player. I laughed. Aggression is certainly not a word I would ever use in a sentence with "Deanna". She responded with, "I know. I didn't think I was aggressive either. I need to work on that."
Truth is, there's lots that the team can work on, and Deanna personally has the potential to improve dramatically. BUT (the big BUT), our "B" Team beat a school that, I'm told by others who know much better than me, has NEVER in the history of our school been beaten by our "B" team. It is considered one of the top teams and we've never succeeded in supplanting them. Until now.
Parents and girls alike were ecstatic. Even without the knowledge of past records, I was on my feet towards the end of the 3rd game, screaming my lungs out for our girls who waffled back and forth from leading to following, leading to following.
They accomplished what many others have tried and failed to produce - a win against Augusta Prep. The coach is to be commended as are the girls who tried so hard and were unbelievably supportive of each other's successes and failures. As the games waned on, Deanna's serving arm just got plain tired. I understand this well, as I suffer from the same problem, or at least I did when I played volleyball in the 8th grade. In one string, Deanna served at least 14 times in a row, bringing us from about 8 points behind to 5 points ahead. I knew she was getting tired. I could see in her eyes that she was having to concentrate much more with each serve and was talking to hersellf. The last serve went out-of-bounds but Deanna's classmates congratulated her, smiled and encouraged. I was very pleased.
The sportsmanship from our girls was spotless. The playing was excellent, especially considering their lack of experience and practice. And the game was rip-roaring. All-in-all, time well-spent.
This morning, I made my way into Deanna's room and plopped on her bed.
"Good morning, darling. How are you today?" She's been fighting a terrible cold and a bad cough and we've been giving her Nyquil every night and Sudafed throughout the day just to get through this very long first week of school. If the weekend hadn't arrived when it did, I'm afraid I would have had to take her out of school for a day.
"My head hurts, I'm tired, and my serving arm is sore!"
I'm sure that's true. But gird up those muscles, girl. There's tons more serving in store for you over the next two months. And maybe the opportunity to get aggressive on the court.
Just think - maybe I'll be using the words "Deanna" and "aggressive" together before volleyball season is done.
Some of the girls (by some, I mean about 3) attended a week-long volleyball camp this summer with the older middle school girls, but they still had not played as a team, and that was a couple of months ago. The Principal took all the girls out of Bible class and combined that time with their PE class so they had 2 hours of practice on Thursday at the end of the day. Deanna came home from school beet red and sweaty and headed straight for the shower. Not knowing if I'd be home on Friday or not because of Baby Reagan's condition, I made arrangements for Deanna to ride with another mom to the game after school on Friday. The other mom, a veteran of middle school, told me that they would most likely get their uniforms during the day on Friday and should be prepared to change after last period and leave right after school to allow them time to warm up.
Since I was home after all, Don, the boys and I loaded up and headed to the game. There was a stalled car on the off-ramp blocking traffic which delayed us, but we arrived 10- minutes into the first game, just in time to see Deanna contact with the ball.
I was amazed! She was taken out twice for short times, but played the majority of all three games. Turns out, she's quite a good little volleyball player. She serves very well and her bumping (that's what they call it now in volleyball, when you get a chance to touch the ball) is very solid, also, but can use a little more control. About half the time, the ball went out-of-bounds, but I noticed her average was better than many of the girls on the opposing team.
After the game, she asked me if I thought she was an aggressive player. I laughed. Aggression is certainly not a word I would ever use in a sentence with "Deanna". She responded with, "I know. I didn't think I was aggressive either. I need to work on that."
Truth is, there's lots that the team can work on, and Deanna personally has the potential to improve dramatically. BUT (the big BUT), our "B" Team beat a school that, I'm told by others who know much better than me, has NEVER in the history of our school been beaten by our "B" team. It is considered one of the top teams and we've never succeeded in supplanting them. Until now.
Parents and girls alike were ecstatic. Even without the knowledge of past records, I was on my feet towards the end of the 3rd game, screaming my lungs out for our girls who waffled back and forth from leading to following, leading to following.
They accomplished what many others have tried and failed to produce - a win against Augusta Prep. The coach is to be commended as are the girls who tried so hard and were unbelievably supportive of each other's successes and failures. As the games waned on, Deanna's serving arm just got plain tired. I understand this well, as I suffer from the same problem, or at least I did when I played volleyball in the 8th grade. In one string, Deanna served at least 14 times in a row, bringing us from about 8 points behind to 5 points ahead. I knew she was getting tired. I could see in her eyes that she was having to concentrate much more with each serve and was talking to hersellf. The last serve went out-of-bounds but Deanna's classmates congratulated her, smiled and encouraged. I was very pleased.
The sportsmanship from our girls was spotless. The playing was excellent, especially considering their lack of experience and practice. And the game was rip-roaring. All-in-all, time well-spent.
This morning, I made my way into Deanna's room and plopped on her bed.
"Good morning, darling. How are you today?" She's been fighting a terrible cold and a bad cough and we've been giving her Nyquil every night and Sudafed throughout the day just to get through this very long first week of school. If the weekend hadn't arrived when it did, I'm afraid I would have had to take her out of school for a day.
"My head hurts, I'm tired, and my serving arm is sore!"
I'm sure that's true. But gird up those muscles, girl. There's tons more serving in store for you over the next two months. And maybe the opportunity to get aggressive on the court.
Just think - maybe I'll be using the words "Deanna" and "aggressive" together before volleyball season is done.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Daddy's Sense of Humor
Don, holding Daelyn's Weekly Behavior Report upside down after school today: "Daelyn, you got all Frowny Faces this week?"
Daelyn's little head jerks around, his eyes narrow, and he looks at the Report Don is holding.
"That's not funny, Daddy. You have it upside down."
All the rest of us thought it was funny.
Daelyn's little head jerks around, his eyes narrow, and he looks at the Report Don is holding.
"That's not funny, Daddy. You have it upside down."
All the rest of us thought it was funny.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Standing on Your Own Two Feet
No news yet on Reagan. My mother and sister came home last night. Mom talked with my nephew, the baby's father, last night and he said the brain bleeding has stopped. We don't yet know about any brain damage. She's a fighter and continues to surprise the doctors.
Don has his Post Operative appointment in just a few minutes, so we'll be going to get him all checked out. He seems to be doing quite well - far better than I did, despite the fact that his surgery was much more extensive.
Deanna seems to be standing up for herself a little bit this year. I think she's finally just had enough of being mistreated by her female classmates. She chose to use a pencil case this year that's pink and has pictures of Disney princesses - Cinderella, Mulan, Ariel . . . you get the idea. So, yesterday, some of the girls gathered around her and said,
"You have a Princess pencil case? Why?" according to Deanna, in a very snotty tone of voice.
"Because I like Princesses," Deanna responded shortly.
They quickly responded with "Oh" and dispersed.
YAY! She's finally standing up for herself. I hope this continues.
It's shaping up to be a good school year after all.
Don has his Post Operative appointment in just a few minutes, so we'll be going to get him all checked out. He seems to be doing quite well - far better than I did, despite the fact that his surgery was much more extensive.
Deanna seems to be standing up for herself a little bit this year. I think she's finally just had enough of being mistreated by her female classmates. She chose to use a pencil case this year that's pink and has pictures of Disney princesses - Cinderella, Mulan, Ariel . . . you get the idea. So, yesterday, some of the girls gathered around her and said,
"You have a Princess pencil case? Why?" according to Deanna, in a very snotty tone of voice.
"Because I like Princesses," Deanna responded shortly.
They quickly responded with "Oh" and dispersed.
YAY! She's finally standing up for herself. I hope this continues.
It's shaping up to be a good school year after all.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Crisis to Crisis
School started yesterday and Deanna was stressed out by last night - new uniforms, new teachers, new building, lockers, changing classes . . . lots of changes for her.
Don is recovering. He came back to bed last night for the first time and had a terrible night, so it appears he's headed back to the recliner. He has his one-week Post Op. visit with his doctor tomorrow.
I took Dane for his 2-week follow-up with the ENT this morning. His infection seems to be cleared up, and now we're just dealing with residual headaches. He scheduled another appointment for 2 weeks and said I can cancel if the headaches go away.
I have an urgent prayer request. My great niece, Reagan, has taken a turn for the worse. She began having seizures and strokes and her brain began hemorrhaging. My mother and one of my sisters went up to visit Sunday morning and were halfway home yesterday when they got the call. They turned around and headed back to Birmingham.
News has been sketchy. The doctors just don't know a whole lot. My sister is trying very hard to keep in touch with those of us still at home. They took the baby into surgery last night and she survived, which was rather unexpected, so that's good news. They're going to do a CT Scan of her brain today to try and find where the bleeding is coming from and check for brain damage. We should know more once the Scan results have been interpreted.
We're praying for a miraculous healing - no brain damage and for the bleeding to stop. The doctors say she's a little fighter. In the meantime, my father returned last night from his mission trip to Kenya to all of this. A friend and neighbor fed him dinner before I got there - I was at Wal-Mart picking up yet more school supplies for Deanna. When I arrived, he asked me to completely unpack him, both his suitcases, and get him settled in. I did, then started laundry and made sure he had breakfast foods before heading for home around 10:30.
I'm a little tired and waiting to hear about the CT Scan. My mother and sister are coming home today. My nephew's wife's family is all there at the hospital and between her family and our family, there was quite a crowd. Mom is recommending none of us go to Birmingham just now - that we wait and see what happens. Papa needs a few nights' sleep in his own bed and I'd like to get Don through his appointment tomorrow and the kids off to school on Friday if I do end up taking my parents back. It would leave things at home much more peaceful.
It seems we've been through a lot this year - Amanda's accident, Don's and my surgeries and my hospitalization, now the problems with the baby. I guess that's typical in a close, large family - something's always happening with someone.
Baby Reagan has fought so hard. I'm praying for complete healing and God's mercy in this situation, whatever that may mean for us. And I'm waiting.
Don is recovering. He came back to bed last night for the first time and had a terrible night, so it appears he's headed back to the recliner. He has his one-week Post Op. visit with his doctor tomorrow.
I took Dane for his 2-week follow-up with the ENT this morning. His infection seems to be cleared up, and now we're just dealing with residual headaches. He scheduled another appointment for 2 weeks and said I can cancel if the headaches go away.
I have an urgent prayer request. My great niece, Reagan, has taken a turn for the worse. She began having seizures and strokes and her brain began hemorrhaging. My mother and one of my sisters went up to visit Sunday morning and were halfway home yesterday when they got the call. They turned around and headed back to Birmingham.
News has been sketchy. The doctors just don't know a whole lot. My sister is trying very hard to keep in touch with those of us still at home. They took the baby into surgery last night and she survived, which was rather unexpected, so that's good news. They're going to do a CT Scan of her brain today to try and find where the bleeding is coming from and check for brain damage. We should know more once the Scan results have been interpreted.
We're praying for a miraculous healing - no brain damage and for the bleeding to stop. The doctors say she's a little fighter. In the meantime, my father returned last night from his mission trip to Kenya to all of this. A friend and neighbor fed him dinner before I got there - I was at Wal-Mart picking up yet more school supplies for Deanna. When I arrived, he asked me to completely unpack him, both his suitcases, and get him settled in. I did, then started laundry and made sure he had breakfast foods before heading for home around 10:30.
I'm a little tired and waiting to hear about the CT Scan. My mother and sister are coming home today. My nephew's wife's family is all there at the hospital and between her family and our family, there was quite a crowd. Mom is recommending none of us go to Birmingham just now - that we wait and see what happens. Papa needs a few nights' sleep in his own bed and I'd like to get Don through his appointment tomorrow and the kids off to school on Friday if I do end up taking my parents back. It would leave things at home much more peaceful.
It seems we've been through a lot this year - Amanda's accident, Don's and my surgeries and my hospitalization, now the problems with the baby. I guess that's typical in a close, large family - something's always happening with someone.
Baby Reagan has fought so hard. I'm praying for complete healing and God's mercy in this situation, whatever that may mean for us. And I'm waiting.
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