I made it. This day last pregnancy was filled with so many tears. So much emotion. Preparations to leave as we spent the first few weeks of so much heartache in the presence of sweet friends, listening to waves, days spent in sun as we tried to wrap our minds around what was happening...what had happened over the last few months of our lives. There is still much to deal with....healing still unfinished...of all that took place last summer. It is true to some extent that the insurmountable pain does subside to some extent but the questions do not..the anger does not....at least not now, not yet. They are all still there and I still ponder all of life. The why's of it all. So many memories tied into late summer/early fall, 14 wks, coping, just trying to survive. It wasn't just losing a baby but losing control over so many areas of our lives that we thought we had so protected, that we so easily took for granted, that we trusted the Lord to protect.
How orchestrated it all was to be in the presence of friends....dear kindred spirits that have become so much more than just merely friends.....with which the Lord surrounded us and lifted us up as we walked through the first two weeks of what would be a long arduous 14 wk journey of losing Gideon after the 14 wks spent growing him. How is it possible to still grieve the loss of your last baby....wonder who he is now, who he would've been here.....yet still be filled with so much love and emotion for this new one we have been given?
14 weeks. I am here.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
The Pencil Test
Do I dare even admit to the fact I did this??? But I found it and what girl in their right mind could ever resist the temptation??? Granted...I knew exactly how it would turn out long before I ever tried it...but still...I was a glutton for punishment and, well, yep....I did it. And this is strictly a girly thing cause no man in their right mind is ever going to understand this...or probably even care. But girls do....pretty much all girls do. Why we do it , who knows...standing in front of the bathroom mirror looking like a complete and total idiot as you become subject to every crazy idea out there.
So, I found the pencil test on the Brazilian Butt website. Despite the 289 times I fought the urge to go do this I finally caved and just did it. And, well.....the results??? Not only could I stick one pencil in the butt overhang...I got about 3. How's that for making life real??? Ok..so it was really only one. I tried 2 but the 2nd one kept falling out. Strangely, I was somewhat comforted by that. I found it a bit odd that instead of being devastated that the pencil was wedged so firmly it took a crowbar to get it out I was instead alarmingly comforted that it would not entertain a 2nd pencil with the 1st. There's always a silver lining to every cloud, now isn't there??? But, yep. It stuck and it stuck well.
In the meantime, I am feeling so exceedingly much better....finally!!!.....I took off with the hard and heavy rugged workout routine once more. Pushups, squats, the Wii's My Fitness Coach and I also began running regularly again. I've been running off and on throughout it all but, I must admit, it has not been anywhere close to consistent. This last week I began to crave it all again....a good sign! Instead of the dread that has been there before running, or really any physical exertion at all, and actually continued to exist the entire duration of any activity, there was an excitement for it all....a longing for it. And when the pain began to kick in I welcomed it. Something about it all makes one feel alive and reminds one that there is life and blood pumping furiously throughout the body. It is a feeling of health, the familiar feeling of power, determination, and strength....that I can do anything....accomplish anything I set my mind to. The competitive nature within being entirely fulfilled..instead of feeling tired, run down, nauseated and overcome with life. It makes me feel alive again. It's so much more than just a matter of staying within a weight range, assuring that a pencil never sticks in your butt crease again, fitting in a pair of jeans or trying to get rid of any bulge beneath the back of your bra or developing arms worthy of showing off a tattoo. It's about life and health and being alive in every way. The sore legs, arms, chest and back were welcomed with open arms. I remembered once more what it is to feel good in a deliciously miserable sort of way.
So, let the fun begin. Let the muscles grow and the bones gain density and build strength. Bring the pain...it means the body lives and moves and is put to use in every good way. What comfort there is in staying active. It brings clarity of thought, purpose, motivation and energy to each day. It is enough to make me feel better both in mind and spirit and improve self image so that I am a more enjoyable person in general....both to my husband, to my children and to those around me. When you feel better about yourself it just affects every aspect of life. And I'm feeling pretty good. There is a joy that motion of the body and activity brings. It doesn't help that I think I was severely deficient in Vitamin D and sun rays absorption. So, I've sold lemonade with the children in the heat of the day, talked to town neighbors, jumped on the trampoline, laid out there barefooted while sweet Ivye girl takes her first tentative jumps of the many years of jumping ahead of her. What life there is in being outside and soaking up sun, playing with children, running, jumping, doing calf raises on railroad ties and sprinting down the length of the driveway in races that end up in a pile of laughter on prickly green grass....that inevitably results in sneezing for hours on end. Yes, I definitely think a healthy dose of vitamin D and some exercise does the body good.
In the meantime...I "failed" the pencil test and hopefully the increased activity will lift the butt, as the website promises, and unstick the pencil that is permanently wedged at the moment.
So, I found the pencil test on the Brazilian Butt website. Despite the 289 times I fought the urge to go do this I finally caved and just did it. And, well.....the results??? Not only could I stick one pencil in the butt overhang...I got about 3. How's that for making life real??? Ok..so it was really only one. I tried 2 but the 2nd one kept falling out. Strangely, I was somewhat comforted by that. I found it a bit odd that instead of being devastated that the pencil was wedged so firmly it took a crowbar to get it out I was instead alarmingly comforted that it would not entertain a 2nd pencil with the 1st. There's always a silver lining to every cloud, now isn't there??? But, yep. It stuck and it stuck well.
In the meantime, I am feeling so exceedingly much better....finally!!!.....I took off with the hard and heavy rugged workout routine once more. Pushups, squats, the Wii's My Fitness Coach and I also began running regularly again. I've been running off and on throughout it all but, I must admit, it has not been anywhere close to consistent. This last week I began to crave it all again....a good sign! Instead of the dread that has been there before running, or really any physical exertion at all, and actually continued to exist the entire duration of any activity, there was an excitement for it all....a longing for it. And when the pain began to kick in I welcomed it. Something about it all makes one feel alive and reminds one that there is life and blood pumping furiously throughout the body. It is a feeling of health, the familiar feeling of power, determination, and strength....that I can do anything....accomplish anything I set my mind to. The competitive nature within being entirely fulfilled..instead of feeling tired, run down, nauseated and overcome with life. It makes me feel alive again. It's so much more than just a matter of staying within a weight range, assuring that a pencil never sticks in your butt crease again, fitting in a pair of jeans or trying to get rid of any bulge beneath the back of your bra or developing arms worthy of showing off a tattoo. It's about life and health and being alive in every way. The sore legs, arms, chest and back were welcomed with open arms. I remembered once more what it is to feel good in a deliciously miserable sort of way.
So, let the fun begin. Let the muscles grow and the bones gain density and build strength. Bring the pain...it means the body lives and moves and is put to use in every good way. What comfort there is in staying active. It brings clarity of thought, purpose, motivation and energy to each day. It is enough to make me feel better both in mind and spirit and improve self image so that I am a more enjoyable person in general....both to my husband, to my children and to those around me. When you feel better about yourself it just affects every aspect of life. And I'm feeling pretty good. There is a joy that motion of the body and activity brings. It doesn't help that I think I was severely deficient in Vitamin D and sun rays absorption. So, I've sold lemonade with the children in the heat of the day, talked to town neighbors, jumped on the trampoline, laid out there barefooted while sweet Ivye girl takes her first tentative jumps of the many years of jumping ahead of her. What life there is in being outside and soaking up sun, playing with children, running, jumping, doing calf raises on railroad ties and sprinting down the length of the driveway in races that end up in a pile of laughter on prickly green grass....that inevitably results in sneezing for hours on end. Yes, I definitely think a healthy dose of vitamin D and some exercise does the body good.
In the meantime...I "failed" the pencil test and hopefully the increased activity will lift the butt, as the website promises, and unstick the pencil that is permanently wedged at the moment.
Brunswick, OH Reader
...or any Cleveland, Ohio area readers....
I see you reading often and am in great need of a favor from you. Would you please contact me via email at medicinemansgirl@yahoo.com or leave a comment on here with a way for me to contact you? And I promise, we are not headed in your direction anytime in the near future and are not in need of a place to stay the night for the 10 of us. And if we were I would be sure to bring my axe and all murderous weapons with me to ensure that you and your family do not exist to tell of any horrific tales after we visit.
Alright, so no daggers and axes. I'm really not a serial killer...most days. I promise. I've actually met quite a few people from the internet and have developed some of my closest friends that way. I know...pretty pathetic when you have to find friends via the internet instead of your own backyard. But.....I was actually wondering...pleading... if you might be willing to pick something up in Strongsville for us and ship it to us. It is local pick up only and we have looked for this item for years. I will reimburse all packaging and shipping fees.
I would owe much to you! If you ever visit west Texas you can stay at our house for an infinite amount of time....free!! I know....such an irresistible offer. Or if I ever write a book I'll autograph it and send you a free copy. So, in all honesty, I'll probably never in my life write a book...but hey, if I ever do you'd get the first one!
I see you reading often and am in great need of a favor from you. Would you please contact me via email at medicinemansgirl@yahoo.com or leave a comment on here with a way for me to contact you? And I promise, we are not headed in your direction anytime in the near future and are not in need of a place to stay the night for the 10 of us. And if we were I would be sure to bring my axe and all murderous weapons with me to ensure that you and your family do not exist to tell of any horrific tales after we visit.
Alright, so no daggers and axes. I'm really not a serial killer...most days. I promise. I've actually met quite a few people from the internet and have developed some of my closest friends that way. I know...pretty pathetic when you have to find friends via the internet instead of your own backyard. But.....I was actually wondering...pleading... if you might be willing to pick something up in Strongsville for us and ship it to us. It is local pick up only and we have looked for this item for years. I will reimburse all packaging and shipping fees.
I would owe much to you! If you ever visit west Texas you can stay at our house for an infinite amount of time....free!! I know....such an irresistible offer. Or if I ever write a book I'll autograph it and send you a free copy. So, in all honesty, I'll probably never in my life write a book...but hey, if I ever do you'd get the first one!
Monday, April 26, 2010
Picture Journey - 13.5 weeks
So, I fell behind. It was supposed to be at 12 wks but that got skipped. I figured from 12 I'd then move on to only doing them every 4 wks from there on out. It seems to be getting a bit redundant at this point and there's no change from week to week. In fact...some weeks I'm bigger the week before than I am the current week. Go figure. So, here's 13 weeks plus a few days. Definite growth but still not massive.
13 wks 4 days
5 weeks ago at 8 weeks
And then one from the very beginning at 6 weeks. I can't find the 5 wk one. It's buried somewhere in the picture archive but I'm tired of looking and seriously have to move on with the day. Baby has definitely grown since this!
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Discomfort - The Bigger Picture
Unpleasant surprises. Turn of events that alter what seems like all of life. Almost silent van. Little ones all sleeping after a day of grocery shopping cut short. I sit and pout in the tense silence that exist between husband and myself. He drives, worried. I feel the anger rise after his assessment that this was more than likely a fatal blow to the engine. We continue to drive, 20 miles from nowhere, thermal gage off the charts. Finally, words. "What to do? No money. We've been debt free as far as vehicles go for many many years now. Go into debt, if we can? No, not an option. Drive bus? Not really an option either though it might insanely just possibly tide us over for short town trips. Needs to be inspected though....along with new tags. Will it pass an inspection? Who knows. Blinker doesn't work. Definitely no long distance trips. 50 mph max and inability to make it up big hills. Trips to Fort Worth out. It'd never climb Ranger Hill. The insanity. Our big yellow bus as a primary source of transportation."
I eagerly make a vote for that option. Doubting husband snuffs out the possibility...mainly due to pride issues, I'm thinking. So I grow angry again. He has no clue. He doesn't want to have a clue. To be stuck here day after day with 8 young children and no hope of getting out...ever again. He goes, he does......he has to, of course...all in the name of working. He has his merry little station party every other day as he drives his big, red, reliable diesel to work and then drives an even bigger, shinier, eye catching, female enticing, more elaborate diesel once he arrives at work. Big shiny rescue, google eyed girls, men in uniform and here I sit with our 8 children, pregnant and stuck at home indefinitely. Angry thoughts turn to efforts of refraining nasty words such as advising him to stay home for even a week's worth of time to see what it is I do, how hard I work and then try to be content with no hope of ever getting out. He can sit at home stranded, working his butt off in this environment as I go hang out with girls all day, laughing and cutting up, drinking Starbucks, having guys stare our merry little group down and flirt obnoxiously, and eating out every meal....the girly equivalent of what most of his days consist of. Then come see what you think, oh dear working one, about maybe perhaps putting the bus into motion just so you can get out of the house once in awhile.
Frustration rises and I envision what reality is going to be...but I say nothing and remain quiet in my angry, frustrated emotion as van continues blowing smoke. We both know this is probably a fatal blow to the van after already having assessed it and having it assessed after numerous episodes of overheating.
On and on the debate goes. What to do. Finally...the inevitable and unthinkable thought that I knew was sure to come....the thought laying silent between us...unspoken, hanging in the air. What if we were to just manage with one vehicle....a 6 passenger truck? Silence eventually again falls. Every angry thought confirmed. Mental rehearsing of how we ever in our life got to this point in our day. Van pulling trailer on our way in. No room for bags of dog food, cat food, chicken feed and groceries alike so with trailer attached we make our way into town only to find that van overheats once more with no hope of getting temps down. Trailer eventually dropped at station to reduce strain on engine. Myriad of station guys hovered around hood, bent looking within, all casting opinions on where exactly problem originates. After idling for many minutes it finally cools, we continue, now hurriedly, on.
We cut down the grocery list by half as we speed up our day in an effort to solve vehicle problems. Now...here we sit in this miserable boat. Self pity grows as I think about the reality of what this turn of events really means. God could heal it. Why doesn't He? God could supernaturally bring the temperature down right this very minute....but He doesn't...despite the fervent prayers being lifted up by myself and 2 oldest children. I gaze out open window avoiding staring at gage like a watched teapot....thinking somehow this plan will miraculously make it go down or something of that insane nature. Unleashed hair blows wildly in the wind but at this point it's not really seeming to matter. I briefly think about all the tangles I stand to face once we reach home. Thoughts return to van. Eyes can't resist and they eventually drift back to gage. Smoke pours out from under hood and gage is not only not falling but climbing higher until it can no longer move any higher.
I feel myself begin to seethe again. Where are you, God??? Why, for once, can't You just answer a single prayer??? This is simple...so simple. It's a matter of cooling down an engine so radiator doesn't blow. You've raised the dead. You've turned water into wine. You turned a rod into a slithering snake. I'm thinking this is a fairly simple task. You can definitely cool down an engine. So why don't You??? I read of Samuel Morris and George Mueller and how You came in and saved doing miraculous things time and time again...proving to answer even their smallest request, delivering them time and again...meeting their every need in such amazing ways from sun up to sun down. Anger begins to dissipate as my heart begins to cry..."I want to be a Samuel Morris to you, Lord. I want to be one of Your favored ones who You have anointed from the very beginning. I want to be that person that when I walk into a room Your presence is undeniable....everyone near captured by your Holy Spirit. I want to be so buried in You that one must seek You in order to know me. I want to be that drenched in Your presence."
Thoughts turn to the last year of our life. How can I even begin to question a God who has delivered us so faithfully and so amazingly from the fire we have endured? How can I sit in self pity and anger over not getting my way when he fails to cool an engine when I ask....demand...Him to? I have a life that lives and grows within me. I have a daughter that has been made whole in every way. I have a freedom to stand up for myself, my children, my husband and to have boundaries...a freedom that has never in my life existed before. I am a different person than I was this time last year. I am a better person and more secure than I have ever been in the Lord. So why is it that I still question so easily? Still wallow in self pity and grow angry when things "owed" to us are not given? I mean, afterall, who in their right mind only makes due with 1 vehicle that does not even fit the entire family??? Every family in the US has 2 vehicles....and if by some small chance they are down to one....at least it seats them all. This is an American given.....that a 34 year old mother of 8 has a working vehicle. How could it not be??? What pregnant woman with 8 children is confined to the house and unable to travel anywhere. Don't people go insane like this???? And facing an indefinite amount of time in this state...well, that is just cause for free admission to an asylum. Everyone surely knows this.
So reality starts to form in my mind about what this sacrifice will consist of. No more outings as an entire family.....for how long, who knows. I almost instantly and foolishly wonder how on earth my children will ever be socialized under such conditions. Gentle reminders float through the head. Have I forgotten about the fifteen 92 year old women in town that Evye continuously bakes cookies for...ok, so maybe there's only more like 5...but that's still a ton of higher order geriatrics. Have I forgotten the 4 different people Grayson is doing work for as he learns to mix and lay concrete, trim trees, cut back brush, sand and paint...not to mention the work he is doing for Vortex spraying husband as he sands and preps the trucks waiting to be sprayed. Evye and the help she gives to city hall during mass mailouts as she stuffs, seals, stamps and addresses hundreds of envelopes? And the little boys as they merrily talk to people and fill orders for eggs? Lemonade sales as all 8 gather in front yard and work on flagging every passing vehicle down. Aubrey, as she tags along and learns the skills of the older 2. And I dare sit here fearing social ineptitude in my children due to not having a source of transportation??? How can I so easily overlook the social ministry waiting 2 doors down...or the the social gathering and training of city council meetings as decent citizens work to make a better life in this place.....as children learn to listen and observe government proceedings....despite how crude and primitive they might be. It's important they see the massive effort put into changing and bettering this lawless town we inhabit...how important it is to be a part and take action...to change what you can...to make a difference and be a testimony where you are. And somehow I manage to think that not being out in public and traveling will somehow limit their social interaction. I grow embarrassed at my own foolishness and how I can so overlook the opportunities that lie at our doorstep.
So I begin to wonder what exactly my days will look like as I face day after day of "confinement". Attitude of total self pity and selfishness begins to shift as deep conviction grows. I gaze at this husband of mine...working hard for every penny that we have, managing money, moving, shifting, placing, paying, stretching to make it all work. I see his sacrifices, I admire his dedication, determination and undying love for us. I know that it's not his desire to "inflict" this upon me and that it pains him just as much as it pains me to face reality...that it probably pains him even more because he feels responsible and that there's nothing he can do to fix it, to remedy any of it. My anger and self pity only prove to worsen this for him. How can I be so selfish and so wrapped up in my own self when I am not the only one feeling the discomfort? And how I can so easily stomp on his heart when he is doing all that he can to provide for us....would give me absolutely everything my heart ever desired if he could. How hard he works and how much he does, his own sacrifices made, as I sit buried and consumed in self pity because of what I am not given. I am not the only one who suffers in this deal. The only hope we have, just as the many years gone before us, is coming together and praying fervently for provision just as we have and will continue to do. The Lord has never once failed to provide for every one of these children He has given us and it is no different now. Every need will be met. If an emergency arises where a vehicle is needed..forever sweet paramedic husband's greatest fear...we both have no doubt or harbor any uncertainty that one will be provided at the time of need. Just as the night when tiny girl cut off pinky toe and van failed to start. Husband sent on "convenient" transfer happened to be only 2 towns away and picked us up on the way in to hospital. And when 3 year old split head open and needed staples....visiting mother was here to stay with 7 children at home. Every need is met...physically, financially, and in every other way.
On the extreme other side of all of this, once one begins to accept it for what it is and allow the work God wants to do there is an excitement that begins to grow. It is not only an ability to live on the edge but embrace the edge and live in expectation of what miracles God is going to do that we have the amazing honor of seeing in life. Maybe the miracle was not in the cooling of the engine and sparing of the van but the miracle lied in the van blowing up and us being able to see the works He is able to do above and beyond as needs arise due to lack of a vehicle. Maybe it is His way of cutting back our gas expenses temporarily and teaching us how to simplify life even more. We have simplified and live an extreme life to some but maybe it is the pushing of us to continue on past what has become our comfort zone and into even more extreme places of discomfort in life....so that we know what it is to so fully rely on Him that we cannot live or breathe or exist without living in His presence and relying on Him to meet our daily needs in a very literal sense.
To brace this figure of "extreme" in reality, we began this journey almost 4 yrs ago with 6 children with an income of 36,000 a year and a ton of debt. Over the years we have grown to 8 and a growing baby within on 42,000 a year with very little debt left. To be truthful.....it is hard, it is challenging, it is trying, it is difficult, it is far from fun at times and it takes a constant state of focusing on what we have been given rather than what we do not have and what we feel is owed to us by the world's standards. But as we have walked it out we have seen things most people will never in a lifetime see God do. We have seen our debt paid off. We have seen Him provide in ways He could never have provided for us otherwise, as we live never in need of anything. We both, along with all of our children, know what it is to prioritize and decipher needs vs desires, and they are learning the absolute importance of staying out of debt..and when you do slip and make mistakes, how important it is to pull yourself up and out of them with an attitude of repentance of not only being remorseful but also turning around and going in the other direction so as not to make the same mistake again.
I only quote numbers to show the miraculous things that God does on our behalf. So, I begin to adjust my attitude and realize that this is not punishment or dislike for me or us as a family but it is us being pushed to the edge to see views...miracles, provisions and things....that most will never get to see...because they never left the comfort zone of the ground to get to the top...or they reached the top but feared the edge. Oh, what we see and experience when we allow ourselves to live on the edge.
Life is not about comfort but more the willingness to suffer the discomfort to reach our full potential. How will we ever know God if He is never allowed to grow us? And how will we ever know how vast and great of a God He is if we never allow ourselves to rely on Him...or stay mad because of what we feel is owed to us...when it was never our's to begin with??? How do I embrace Him without also embracing the discomfort of being stretched and grown, shaped and molded into who it is I am to become in Him? I am convinced that unless there is a willingness to suffer one will never know what it is to be anything but a pew-warming, surface, Sunday morning Christian. How much they miss. How sad it is to never the know the height and breadth and depth of the God they claim to serve and worship. In the heart longing to be what Samuel Morris was and to see and do what George Mueller did there has to be a willingness to leave everything familiar...everything comfortable.....and embrace what it is to live on the edge. These men...they left comfort, they left familiarity, they left everything solid and secure so that they could know the fulness of the God they served. And in turn, they also left a legacy and lived a life few will ever know. The willingness to suffer....is it so easily lost, set aside...forgotten???? Let me always know what it is to live on the edge and to suffer for the cause of Christ. Oh, to be ruined for the ordinary. Let me never forget what it is to suffer for You and live an extraordinary life.
We arrive home. Van pouring smoke from under hood and out tail pipe. We look at each other and smile....each of us having quietly reached, somewhere along the 32 miles home, an inner contentment, acceptance and conviction with where we are, the role model we are to our children as they sit watching this scenario, and the realization that we are both being grown and stretched. Just another day in paradise. Another day to discover the works of an almighty God and look forward to what lies ahead...to see what things He will do on our behalf. He has not abandoned us or forsaken us.
I look around. Pastures of chickens pecking ground. Swings dangle from chains high up in the trees, swaying in the wind. Shaded carport, strewn out bikes and tricycles, toy horses, balls and happily barking dogs. Children, from oldest to youngest, help unload groceries. Gray brick, white trim, black shutters welcome us home cozily. Once inside, whirring fans click in their dizzying vigil, mopped floors and clean kitchen cheerily greet us. And I am reminded that if I am to be "stranded" anywhere there's no place I'd rather be than here....in my little paradise. Even in the discomfort there is pleasure. I love where we are and I am so thankful for what we have been given in our home, in our property, in our children to be able to roam freely, in the animals we have the ability to have. There is no lovelier place than home
....except when you want a Sonic cherry chocolate Diet Dr Pepper......or a strawberry limeade. And then there's nothing more beautiful than the glowing Sonic sign. In the meantime, I will be content with my little island paradise called home....and pray for a Sonic coke.
I eagerly make a vote for that option. Doubting husband snuffs out the possibility...mainly due to pride issues, I'm thinking. So I grow angry again. He has no clue. He doesn't want to have a clue. To be stuck here day after day with 8 young children and no hope of getting out...ever again. He goes, he does......he has to, of course...all in the name of working. He has his merry little station party every other day as he drives his big, red, reliable diesel to work and then drives an even bigger, shinier, eye catching, female enticing, more elaborate diesel once he arrives at work. Big shiny rescue, google eyed girls, men in uniform and here I sit with our 8 children, pregnant and stuck at home indefinitely. Angry thoughts turn to efforts of refraining nasty words such as advising him to stay home for even a week's worth of time to see what it is I do, how hard I work and then try to be content with no hope of ever getting out. He can sit at home stranded, working his butt off in this environment as I go hang out with girls all day, laughing and cutting up, drinking Starbucks, having guys stare our merry little group down and flirt obnoxiously, and eating out every meal....the girly equivalent of what most of his days consist of. Then come see what you think, oh dear working one, about maybe perhaps putting the bus into motion just so you can get out of the house once in awhile.
Frustration rises and I envision what reality is going to be...but I say nothing and remain quiet in my angry, frustrated emotion as van continues blowing smoke. We both know this is probably a fatal blow to the van after already having assessed it and having it assessed after numerous episodes of overheating.
On and on the debate goes. What to do. Finally...the inevitable and unthinkable thought that I knew was sure to come....the thought laying silent between us...unspoken, hanging in the air. What if we were to just manage with one vehicle....a 6 passenger truck? Silence eventually again falls. Every angry thought confirmed. Mental rehearsing of how we ever in our life got to this point in our day. Van pulling trailer on our way in. No room for bags of dog food, cat food, chicken feed and groceries alike so with trailer attached we make our way into town only to find that van overheats once more with no hope of getting temps down. Trailer eventually dropped at station to reduce strain on engine. Myriad of station guys hovered around hood, bent looking within, all casting opinions on where exactly problem originates. After idling for many minutes it finally cools, we continue, now hurriedly, on.
We cut down the grocery list by half as we speed up our day in an effort to solve vehicle problems. Now...here we sit in this miserable boat. Self pity grows as I think about the reality of what this turn of events really means. God could heal it. Why doesn't He? God could supernaturally bring the temperature down right this very minute....but He doesn't...despite the fervent prayers being lifted up by myself and 2 oldest children. I gaze out open window avoiding staring at gage like a watched teapot....thinking somehow this plan will miraculously make it go down or something of that insane nature. Unleashed hair blows wildly in the wind but at this point it's not really seeming to matter. I briefly think about all the tangles I stand to face once we reach home. Thoughts return to van. Eyes can't resist and they eventually drift back to gage. Smoke pours out from under hood and gage is not only not falling but climbing higher until it can no longer move any higher.
I feel myself begin to seethe again. Where are you, God??? Why, for once, can't You just answer a single prayer??? This is simple...so simple. It's a matter of cooling down an engine so radiator doesn't blow. You've raised the dead. You've turned water into wine. You turned a rod into a slithering snake. I'm thinking this is a fairly simple task. You can definitely cool down an engine. So why don't You??? I read of Samuel Morris and George Mueller and how You came in and saved doing miraculous things time and time again...proving to answer even their smallest request, delivering them time and again...meeting their every need in such amazing ways from sun up to sun down. Anger begins to dissipate as my heart begins to cry..."I want to be a Samuel Morris to you, Lord. I want to be one of Your favored ones who You have anointed from the very beginning. I want to be that person that when I walk into a room Your presence is undeniable....everyone near captured by your Holy Spirit. I want to be so buried in You that one must seek You in order to know me. I want to be that drenched in Your presence."
Thoughts turn to the last year of our life. How can I even begin to question a God who has delivered us so faithfully and so amazingly from the fire we have endured? How can I sit in self pity and anger over not getting my way when he fails to cool an engine when I ask....demand...Him to? I have a life that lives and grows within me. I have a daughter that has been made whole in every way. I have a freedom to stand up for myself, my children, my husband and to have boundaries...a freedom that has never in my life existed before. I am a different person than I was this time last year. I am a better person and more secure than I have ever been in the Lord. So why is it that I still question so easily? Still wallow in self pity and grow angry when things "owed" to us are not given? I mean, afterall, who in their right mind only makes due with 1 vehicle that does not even fit the entire family??? Every family in the US has 2 vehicles....and if by some small chance they are down to one....at least it seats them all. This is an American given.....that a 34 year old mother of 8 has a working vehicle. How could it not be??? What pregnant woman with 8 children is confined to the house and unable to travel anywhere. Don't people go insane like this???? And facing an indefinite amount of time in this state...well, that is just cause for free admission to an asylum. Everyone surely knows this.
So reality starts to form in my mind about what this sacrifice will consist of. No more outings as an entire family.....for how long, who knows. I almost instantly and foolishly wonder how on earth my children will ever be socialized under such conditions. Gentle reminders float through the head. Have I forgotten about the fifteen 92 year old women in town that Evye continuously bakes cookies for...ok, so maybe there's only more like 5...but that's still a ton of higher order geriatrics. Have I forgotten the 4 different people Grayson is doing work for as he learns to mix and lay concrete, trim trees, cut back brush, sand and paint...not to mention the work he is doing for Vortex spraying husband as he sands and preps the trucks waiting to be sprayed. Evye and the help she gives to city hall during mass mailouts as she stuffs, seals, stamps and addresses hundreds of envelopes? And the little boys as they merrily talk to people and fill orders for eggs? Lemonade sales as all 8 gather in front yard and work on flagging every passing vehicle down. Aubrey, as she tags along and learns the skills of the older 2. And I dare sit here fearing social ineptitude in my children due to not having a source of transportation??? How can I so easily overlook the social ministry waiting 2 doors down...or the the social gathering and training of city council meetings as decent citizens work to make a better life in this place.....as children learn to listen and observe government proceedings....despite how crude and primitive they might be. It's important they see the massive effort put into changing and bettering this lawless town we inhabit...how important it is to be a part and take action...to change what you can...to make a difference and be a testimony where you are. And somehow I manage to think that not being out in public and traveling will somehow limit their social interaction. I grow embarrassed at my own foolishness and how I can so overlook the opportunities that lie at our doorstep.
So I begin to wonder what exactly my days will look like as I face day after day of "confinement". Attitude of total self pity and selfishness begins to shift as deep conviction grows. I gaze at this husband of mine...working hard for every penny that we have, managing money, moving, shifting, placing, paying, stretching to make it all work. I see his sacrifices, I admire his dedication, determination and undying love for us. I know that it's not his desire to "inflict" this upon me and that it pains him just as much as it pains me to face reality...that it probably pains him even more because he feels responsible and that there's nothing he can do to fix it, to remedy any of it. My anger and self pity only prove to worsen this for him. How can I be so selfish and so wrapped up in my own self when I am not the only one feeling the discomfort? And how I can so easily stomp on his heart when he is doing all that he can to provide for us....would give me absolutely everything my heart ever desired if he could. How hard he works and how much he does, his own sacrifices made, as I sit buried and consumed in self pity because of what I am not given. I am not the only one who suffers in this deal. The only hope we have, just as the many years gone before us, is coming together and praying fervently for provision just as we have and will continue to do. The Lord has never once failed to provide for every one of these children He has given us and it is no different now. Every need will be met. If an emergency arises where a vehicle is needed..forever sweet paramedic husband's greatest fear...we both have no doubt or harbor any uncertainty that one will be provided at the time of need. Just as the night when tiny girl cut off pinky toe and van failed to start. Husband sent on "convenient" transfer happened to be only 2 towns away and picked us up on the way in to hospital. And when 3 year old split head open and needed staples....visiting mother was here to stay with 7 children at home. Every need is met...physically, financially, and in every other way.
On the extreme other side of all of this, once one begins to accept it for what it is and allow the work God wants to do there is an excitement that begins to grow. It is not only an ability to live on the edge but embrace the edge and live in expectation of what miracles God is going to do that we have the amazing honor of seeing in life. Maybe the miracle was not in the cooling of the engine and sparing of the van but the miracle lied in the van blowing up and us being able to see the works He is able to do above and beyond as needs arise due to lack of a vehicle. Maybe it is His way of cutting back our gas expenses temporarily and teaching us how to simplify life even more. We have simplified and live an extreme life to some but maybe it is the pushing of us to continue on past what has become our comfort zone and into even more extreme places of discomfort in life....so that we know what it is to so fully rely on Him that we cannot live or breathe or exist without living in His presence and relying on Him to meet our daily needs in a very literal sense.
To brace this figure of "extreme" in reality, we began this journey almost 4 yrs ago with 6 children with an income of 36,000 a year and a ton of debt. Over the years we have grown to 8 and a growing baby within on 42,000 a year with very little debt left. To be truthful.....it is hard, it is challenging, it is trying, it is difficult, it is far from fun at times and it takes a constant state of focusing on what we have been given rather than what we do not have and what we feel is owed to us by the world's standards. But as we have walked it out we have seen things most people will never in a lifetime see God do. We have seen our debt paid off. We have seen Him provide in ways He could never have provided for us otherwise, as we live never in need of anything. We both, along with all of our children, know what it is to prioritize and decipher needs vs desires, and they are learning the absolute importance of staying out of debt..and when you do slip and make mistakes, how important it is to pull yourself up and out of them with an attitude of repentance of not only being remorseful but also turning around and going in the other direction so as not to make the same mistake again.
I only quote numbers to show the miraculous things that God does on our behalf. So, I begin to adjust my attitude and realize that this is not punishment or dislike for me or us as a family but it is us being pushed to the edge to see views...miracles, provisions and things....that most will never get to see...because they never left the comfort zone of the ground to get to the top...or they reached the top but feared the edge. Oh, what we see and experience when we allow ourselves to live on the edge.
Life is not about comfort but more the willingness to suffer the discomfort to reach our full potential. How will we ever know God if He is never allowed to grow us? And how will we ever know how vast and great of a God He is if we never allow ourselves to rely on Him...or stay mad because of what we feel is owed to us...when it was never our's to begin with??? How do I embrace Him without also embracing the discomfort of being stretched and grown, shaped and molded into who it is I am to become in Him? I am convinced that unless there is a willingness to suffer one will never know what it is to be anything but a pew-warming, surface, Sunday morning Christian. How much they miss. How sad it is to never the know the height and breadth and depth of the God they claim to serve and worship. In the heart longing to be what Samuel Morris was and to see and do what George Mueller did there has to be a willingness to leave everything familiar...everything comfortable.....and embrace what it is to live on the edge. These men...they left comfort, they left familiarity, they left everything solid and secure so that they could know the fulness of the God they served. And in turn, they also left a legacy and lived a life few will ever know. The willingness to suffer....is it so easily lost, set aside...forgotten???? Let me always know what it is to live on the edge and to suffer for the cause of Christ. Oh, to be ruined for the ordinary. Let me never forget what it is to suffer for You and live an extraordinary life.
We arrive home. Van pouring smoke from under hood and out tail pipe. We look at each other and smile....each of us having quietly reached, somewhere along the 32 miles home, an inner contentment, acceptance and conviction with where we are, the role model we are to our children as they sit watching this scenario, and the realization that we are both being grown and stretched. Just another day in paradise. Another day to discover the works of an almighty God and look forward to what lies ahead...to see what things He will do on our behalf. He has not abandoned us or forsaken us.
I look around. Pastures of chickens pecking ground. Swings dangle from chains high up in the trees, swaying in the wind. Shaded carport, strewn out bikes and tricycles, toy horses, balls and happily barking dogs. Children, from oldest to youngest, help unload groceries. Gray brick, white trim, black shutters welcome us home cozily. Once inside, whirring fans click in their dizzying vigil, mopped floors and clean kitchen cheerily greet us. And I am reminded that if I am to be "stranded" anywhere there's no place I'd rather be than here....in my little paradise. Even in the discomfort there is pleasure. I love where we are and I am so thankful for what we have been given in our home, in our property, in our children to be able to roam freely, in the animals we have the ability to have. There is no lovelier place than home
....except when you want a Sonic cherry chocolate Diet Dr Pepper......or a strawberry limeade. And then there's nothing more beautiful than the glowing Sonic sign. In the meantime, I will be content with my little island paradise called home....and pray for a Sonic coke.
Monday, April 19, 2010
In (Un)Loving Memory
Let me preface this by saying I am a huge animal advocate. I love animals...almost as much as I love children. Even cats have grown on me...but I'm thinking not enough. Dogs and horses might as well be children. I absolutely love big dogs, loyal horses and honking donkeys. Chickens....well, they're not really animals of the animal type. They're more in the poultry/bird category which do not classify as pet loving, real true animals. We have them and I do like the idea of them but as far as being in love....ummm....yeah, it's just not happening. They lay eggs and therein lies my affinity for them. They also crap everywhere you step. They make a whole lot of squawking noise and, in general, give a romantic notion to life but are not entirely romantic at all...especially the crapping part. Nope..that doesn't exactly endear one to them. Especially when it's all over the carport on which young toddlers play and all over the front porch that greet visitors. But, oh yes...we live in a small town where no one actually ever uses the front porch or the front door. They just go to the back like they are all family and usually don't bother even knocking. Just open it up and stick their head in giving a shout out warning of "Hellloooooo??" Yes, people....doorbells were created for a reason. Imagine that! "Why!! Sweetie pie...usin' a doorbell in these parts???!! You must be from the city, you darlin'. We don't do that 'round here. That's just too fancy for us locals. We're all family, ya know." Well, Betty and Bertha, it's so good to know we are all family now and that knocking isn't necessary...nor is it ever practiced. Next time just remind me not to walk around in my bra and underwear at the crack of dawn when the local Baptist women want to come calling.
So never mind with non doorbell ringing...or door knocking...locals and crapping chickens and such. It doesn't matter anyway. The chickens crap on the front porch and the back porch so it's all the same thing. Despite the hours and hours spent rigging up chicken wire they seem to ignore our hard efforts and just cluck in total hilarity as they fly over everything we have rigged up to keep them within their confines. They have an entire acre of pasture, but, as always..the grass is always greener on the other side. To their credit though, we have no mosquitoes, no grasshoppers, no pestering insects of any kind. Nope...we have 85 crapping chickens to take care of that aspect of life. Alright...so really. Never mind the gravity defying, feces releasing chickens.
The real reason I am here. We have this cat. Or well...we had this cat. Once again.....I just adore animals....but not when they pee on absolutely everything in the house and not when they're cats and the whole house begins to wreak of cat pee. Everywhere I wandered the smell of cat urine permeated the nostrils....and it was nauseating. Amused husband began telling me that, according to my nose, everything smelled like cat pee. Children grew irritated everytime they were called because they knew it was time to hunt down the source of the offending article...that, I might note...was always sprayed in pee. Everyone else in the house assured me time and again that there was no odor and my nose had been permanently damaged and never became unstuck from cat urine smell. But, I knew differently....and my nose really knew differently....and my triggers of absolute nausea really, really knew differently. So, before you go feeling sorry for this cat imagine your house becoming your worst nightmare and your dearly beloved feline ruining everything you have. Not even children pee this much on worldly possessions.
Granted, this cat was mentally deficit in more than a few ways. We rescued her...the only way we ever end up with any of our animals...at a mere 5 weeks old as she was knocking on death's door. In fact, I think she had all but about half of her tail through it. Infested with fleas it seemed her whole body moved and crawled with blood sucking insects from fleas to ticks to everything else that can raid an animal's body...ear mites, worms....you name it, she had it. We bathed her, medicated her, treated her for all of her problems and dealt with her eye infections. By the end of it we thought we had a pretty good little kitten that we so romantically and heroically had saved. But what I failed to actually think about was that this sweet innocent looking little kitten might actually suffer from some amount of brain damage...and in hindsight, I'm thinking serious brain damage and total mental dysfunction. But she saved the day and became Aubrey's security when her little world seemed to be falling apart. As time elapsed, Aubrey recovered both physically and emotionally but the cat never quite seemed to. As this lovely little feline grew she became cranky and cantankerous and just plain mean...and irritating. She loved and demanded all of our time in her own timing..which was usually bad timing on anyone else's part...and when it was time to love she hissed and bit and, in general, made an absolute turd out of her little self. And at night, once the sun went down, darkness pervaded and the house grew still this possessed cat would take off, up and down hallways actually managing to climb the door facing almost up to the ceiling. She ruined the leather chair, some parts of the couches, the door facings, the window sills, the window screens. We have claw marks to prove this for the next homeowner that calls this homey little place his. She made strange and scary noises as she darted frantically from long stretch of front door to back door. This only proved to amuse not so cat loving husband and so we kept her around...not to mention the fact the children had invested so much "veterinarian" time into her. She was a good science lesson, I suppose.
I also have to add that we saved this cat from the great outdoors numerous times when she escaped the confines of the house and was too skitzed out to come out of hiding and return to the warmth of her familiar environment. I actually crawled into a spider infested space the size of Gavin and dug her butt out with a fish net, carrying her scratching, clawing self back home. I waded through mesquite thorns and scratchy bushes on hands and knees under brush and brambles, tearing arms and legs up to fetch this beloved little thing. Yep...she was a keeper alright. Not to mention that we spent the money and had her spayed at six months.
We had made a grand attempt at kenneling her every night per the vet's advice to "teach" her where the litter box was and what exactly was not the litter box...like the laundry basket of clean unfolded clothes, or the unmatched sock basket, or the missing sock basket, or the oven mitt that had been strung out by 17 month old girl, or the van tote that had come inside to be cleaned out, or the towel that lay discarded at the end of the hallway. Ummm...dude, this cat never craps on anything and goes straight to the litter box but yet she pees on all of this. I think she knows what exactly a litter box is and what to use it for. But, alas, we did as we were advised and kenneled her at night and while away from home. That only served to make her meaner than ever at night and refuse to be captured. So round and round we went night after night. Once reaching her she'd hiss in evil ways and eventually bite the fire out of me...or Grayson...or Mother. Whoever the animal catcher happened to be that night. It didn't take long for that little rodeo to grow very, very old. So then we tried making her an outside cat. This cat that would never return home to us that we dug out of so many small places now saw fit to boomerang home. Out the front door....in the backdoor. Out the backdoor....in the front door. We did tis whole little routine for an entire day. It wasn't working....at. all. And, of course...no friend in their right mind will take a peeing cat into their own home and embrace it as their's. Yep...we tried that route too. Pleeeaase come take our sweet little kitty. Pleeaaase????? Nope. Wasn't happening. We exhausted our resources. Not even the SPCA would take his darling little thing due to the fact she had shown signs of violent aggression and would be considered unsafe in a new home. And the county animal shelter didn't seem too promising due to the fact she would do nothing but sit in a 2x2 cage, 1/2 of it taken up by a litter box, that I somehow instinctively knew she probably wouldn't use, only to be euthanized a week later....if that. Oh animal lover world...where art thou help????
While at grandparents' this past weekend Mother called and gave the lovely info that she had peed in our dirty clothes basket...definitely not a first, but contemplating making it a last...and then went on to discover that she had also peed on some strewn out piece of clothing under our bed. Thus the never ending smell of urine that forever existed in my nostrils. With that, I was so fed up with this mentally deficit in the head, mean little turd that I gave the order to take her out. Shotgun loving husband grew irritated that I gave the order while we were all away from home, as he loves shooting pretty much anything that moves...including billy goats that ram little boys into fences and pin them there. He overruled and put it on hold saying he would take her out when we arrived home. I plead my cause to him, saying the children would never be the wiser and she could just conveniently "escape" out the door and never come home. That definitely wouldn't be a first and seemed reasonable enough. No traumatizing children with horrific cat stories or the sound of multiple gunshots as bullet-like cat evades and dodges expertly the ones aimed at her.
I figured, in all of my ingenious animal wisdom, that it would be more humane for her just to be shot rather than try to deal with a new place in new surroundings like dumping her on the side of the road and having to scavenge for food and be at the mercy of cold, wind, heat and rain. But little urine spraying, turd cat proved to not be so easily shot. And when one shoots among 85 chickens one is bound to take out a few of those as well. This non-returning cat would do nothing but boomerang to the backdoor, hissing and growling in scary ways and making herself increasingly difficult to shoot......seeing as how there would be a huge new cat height, shotgun hole in our backdoor once we returned home if she was shot while throwing her hissy fit by the backdoor. Even the smaller handgun promised to leave a bullet hole in the door. Not so great. So Mother gave up and rodeo-ed the nasty little turd into the kennel....who proceeded to bite her, I should add. Despite my hatred and fed-upness with this cat I still would never have been able to shoot her. But it was entirely easy handing off the job to someone else. This cat, now showing the full effects of rabies or some other sort of mental brain eating disorder was clearly having issues.
She loaded her into the bed of her truck on her way out of town and lovingly dropped her off at the old abandoned school 16 miles away. I'm wondering if that's far enough. It was said that cat shot out of kennel and off truck bed at lightening force speeds, disappearing into thick river brush never to be seen again. Hopefully she is peeing her heart out and spraying every tree in the county while being feral and biting and hissing her way through life. She was given a place of shelter and a feast of mice and river rats along with an assortment of birds to dine on for the rest of her feral life. I assured the children she was definitely living the ultimate feral cat life. She began life feral and apparently feral is not so easily tamed..so she left our home still feral. And on the nights I do begin to feel even a little sorry for her I breathe in deeply and smell the sunny freshness of our Glade plug-ins...and not the horrific odor of cat urine. And when going through our nighttime routine I don't have to be bitten by a nasty little crapped out turd of a cat who refuses to do anything she dislikes. I no longer fear needing stitches put into the base of my thumb due to her hissing, biting little tirades. Here's to lavender vanilla Glade plug-ins, newly mopped floors, the smell of Charlie's Soap, clean clothes that stay clean, dirty clothes that remain just dirty and not urinated on, and strewn out crap in the floor that no longer is endangered by cat pee. And to fingers and hands alike that remain intact and still have all of their digits. To arms that won't ever be deeply cut by mesquite trees as one is fully entangled amongst them and to hair that won't ever have spider webs creepily and stickily woven through it again. And to a peaceful nighttime routine that no longer involves disliked cats.
So, to Lazzye...wherever she is. May she lead a good life and never return home.
So never mind with non doorbell ringing...or door knocking...locals and crapping chickens and such. It doesn't matter anyway. The chickens crap on the front porch and the back porch so it's all the same thing. Despite the hours and hours spent rigging up chicken wire they seem to ignore our hard efforts and just cluck in total hilarity as they fly over everything we have rigged up to keep them within their confines. They have an entire acre of pasture, but, as always..the grass is always greener on the other side. To their credit though, we have no mosquitoes, no grasshoppers, no pestering insects of any kind. Nope...we have 85 crapping chickens to take care of that aspect of life. Alright...so really. Never mind the gravity defying, feces releasing chickens.
The real reason I am here. We have this cat. Or well...we had this cat. Once again.....I just adore animals....but not when they pee on absolutely everything in the house and not when they're cats and the whole house begins to wreak of cat pee. Everywhere I wandered the smell of cat urine permeated the nostrils....and it was nauseating. Amused husband began telling me that, according to my nose, everything smelled like cat pee. Children grew irritated everytime they were called because they knew it was time to hunt down the source of the offending article...that, I might note...was always sprayed in pee. Everyone else in the house assured me time and again that there was no odor and my nose had been permanently damaged and never became unstuck from cat urine smell. But, I knew differently....and my nose really knew differently....and my triggers of absolute nausea really, really knew differently. So, before you go feeling sorry for this cat imagine your house becoming your worst nightmare and your dearly beloved feline ruining everything you have. Not even children pee this much on worldly possessions.
Granted, this cat was mentally deficit in more than a few ways. We rescued her...the only way we ever end up with any of our animals...at a mere 5 weeks old as she was knocking on death's door. In fact, I think she had all but about half of her tail through it. Infested with fleas it seemed her whole body moved and crawled with blood sucking insects from fleas to ticks to everything else that can raid an animal's body...ear mites, worms....you name it, she had it. We bathed her, medicated her, treated her for all of her problems and dealt with her eye infections. By the end of it we thought we had a pretty good little kitten that we so romantically and heroically had saved. But what I failed to actually think about was that this sweet innocent looking little kitten might actually suffer from some amount of brain damage...and in hindsight, I'm thinking serious brain damage and total mental dysfunction. But she saved the day and became Aubrey's security when her little world seemed to be falling apart. As time elapsed, Aubrey recovered both physically and emotionally but the cat never quite seemed to. As this lovely little feline grew she became cranky and cantankerous and just plain mean...and irritating. She loved and demanded all of our time in her own timing..which was usually bad timing on anyone else's part...and when it was time to love she hissed and bit and, in general, made an absolute turd out of her little self. And at night, once the sun went down, darkness pervaded and the house grew still this possessed cat would take off, up and down hallways actually managing to climb the door facing almost up to the ceiling. She ruined the leather chair, some parts of the couches, the door facings, the window sills, the window screens. We have claw marks to prove this for the next homeowner that calls this homey little place his. She made strange and scary noises as she darted frantically from long stretch of front door to back door. This only proved to amuse not so cat loving husband and so we kept her around...not to mention the fact the children had invested so much "veterinarian" time into her. She was a good science lesson, I suppose.
I also have to add that we saved this cat from the great outdoors numerous times when she escaped the confines of the house and was too skitzed out to come out of hiding and return to the warmth of her familiar environment. I actually crawled into a spider infested space the size of Gavin and dug her butt out with a fish net, carrying her scratching, clawing self back home. I waded through mesquite thorns and scratchy bushes on hands and knees under brush and brambles, tearing arms and legs up to fetch this beloved little thing. Yep...she was a keeper alright. Not to mention that we spent the money and had her spayed at six months.
We had made a grand attempt at kenneling her every night per the vet's advice to "teach" her where the litter box was and what exactly was not the litter box...like the laundry basket of clean unfolded clothes, or the unmatched sock basket, or the missing sock basket, or the oven mitt that had been strung out by 17 month old girl, or the van tote that had come inside to be cleaned out, or the towel that lay discarded at the end of the hallway. Ummm...dude, this cat never craps on anything and goes straight to the litter box but yet she pees on all of this. I think she knows what exactly a litter box is and what to use it for. But, alas, we did as we were advised and kenneled her at night and while away from home. That only served to make her meaner than ever at night and refuse to be captured. So round and round we went night after night. Once reaching her she'd hiss in evil ways and eventually bite the fire out of me...or Grayson...or Mother. Whoever the animal catcher happened to be that night. It didn't take long for that little rodeo to grow very, very old. So then we tried making her an outside cat. This cat that would never return home to us that we dug out of so many small places now saw fit to boomerang home. Out the front door....in the backdoor. Out the backdoor....in the front door. We did tis whole little routine for an entire day. It wasn't working....at. all. And, of course...no friend in their right mind will take a peeing cat into their own home and embrace it as their's. Yep...we tried that route too. Pleeeaase come take our sweet little kitty. Pleeaaase????? Nope. Wasn't happening. We exhausted our resources. Not even the SPCA would take his darling little thing due to the fact she had shown signs of violent aggression and would be considered unsafe in a new home. And the county animal shelter didn't seem too promising due to the fact she would do nothing but sit in a 2x2 cage, 1/2 of it taken up by a litter box, that I somehow instinctively knew she probably wouldn't use, only to be euthanized a week later....if that. Oh animal lover world...where art thou help????
While at grandparents' this past weekend Mother called and gave the lovely info that she had peed in our dirty clothes basket...definitely not a first, but contemplating making it a last...and then went on to discover that she had also peed on some strewn out piece of clothing under our bed. Thus the never ending smell of urine that forever existed in my nostrils. With that, I was so fed up with this mentally deficit in the head, mean little turd that I gave the order to take her out. Shotgun loving husband grew irritated that I gave the order while we were all away from home, as he loves shooting pretty much anything that moves...including billy goats that ram little boys into fences and pin them there. He overruled and put it on hold saying he would take her out when we arrived home. I plead my cause to him, saying the children would never be the wiser and she could just conveniently "escape" out the door and never come home. That definitely wouldn't be a first and seemed reasonable enough. No traumatizing children with horrific cat stories or the sound of multiple gunshots as bullet-like cat evades and dodges expertly the ones aimed at her.
I figured, in all of my ingenious animal wisdom, that it would be more humane for her just to be shot rather than try to deal with a new place in new surroundings like dumping her on the side of the road and having to scavenge for food and be at the mercy of cold, wind, heat and rain. But little urine spraying, turd cat proved to not be so easily shot. And when one shoots among 85 chickens one is bound to take out a few of those as well. This non-returning cat would do nothing but boomerang to the backdoor, hissing and growling in scary ways and making herself increasingly difficult to shoot......seeing as how there would be a huge new cat height, shotgun hole in our backdoor once we returned home if she was shot while throwing her hissy fit by the backdoor. Even the smaller handgun promised to leave a bullet hole in the door. Not so great. So Mother gave up and rodeo-ed the nasty little turd into the kennel....who proceeded to bite her, I should add. Despite my hatred and fed-upness with this cat I still would never have been able to shoot her. But it was entirely easy handing off the job to someone else. This cat, now showing the full effects of rabies or some other sort of mental brain eating disorder was clearly having issues.
She loaded her into the bed of her truck on her way out of town and lovingly dropped her off at the old abandoned school 16 miles away. I'm wondering if that's far enough. It was said that cat shot out of kennel and off truck bed at lightening force speeds, disappearing into thick river brush never to be seen again. Hopefully she is peeing her heart out and spraying every tree in the county while being feral and biting and hissing her way through life. She was given a place of shelter and a feast of mice and river rats along with an assortment of birds to dine on for the rest of her feral life. I assured the children she was definitely living the ultimate feral cat life. She began life feral and apparently feral is not so easily tamed..so she left our home still feral. And on the nights I do begin to feel even a little sorry for her I breathe in deeply and smell the sunny freshness of our Glade plug-ins...and not the horrific odor of cat urine. And when going through our nighttime routine I don't have to be bitten by a nasty little crapped out turd of a cat who refuses to do anything she dislikes. I no longer fear needing stitches put into the base of my thumb due to her hissing, biting little tirades. Here's to lavender vanilla Glade plug-ins, newly mopped floors, the smell of Charlie's Soap, clean clothes that stay clean, dirty clothes that remain just dirty and not urinated on, and strewn out crap in the floor that no longer is endangered by cat pee. And to fingers and hands alike that remain intact and still have all of their digits. To arms that won't ever be deeply cut by mesquite trees as one is fully entangled amongst them and to hair that won't ever have spider webs creepily and stickily woven through it again. And to a peaceful nighttime routine that no longer involves disliked cats.
So, to Lazzye...wherever she is. May she lead a good life and never return home.
Consuming Contentment
Husband sits quietly in passenger seat, laptop poised precariously, large red fire books surrounding his small space. Laughing children, excited to be on the road once again, chatter and converse happily about what lies beyond their windows. I drive these old familiar winding roads, dark brooding storm clouds looming in the distance. Millions of bluebonnets grace deserted highway, river of blue cascading far into the horizon as far as eye can see. Voices from the backseats fade as I ponder what it must have been like some 150 years ago as wagons traversed these hills shrouded in fields of blue, storm clouds threatening over head. Mind wonders what it must've been like to fight off waves of nausea as hard wooden seat jostles unmercifully beneath, hard rutted ground creaking by slowly as every possession in life bounces behind. How much we owe to these sojourners who left friends and family behind and set off in search of a new life in a new world, sickness and accidents claiming the lives of so many of their children. Yet here I sit with our 8 healthy children, cruising over the hills and covering 132 miles in a mere 2 1/2 hrs.
Fields and pastures heavily graced with thousands of dancing blue ladies mesmerize the eyes. Clouds, having reached capacity, overflow and hard driving rain pelts the windshield in stinging drops. Heavy rain lulls younger children to sleep while older ones continue on in their games and laughter. We find our way through the sloping hills and around the winding roads of the Texas hill country, the desert world transformed for these few rare weeks in time. Lush green grass rivaling that of more northern states, pastures dense and heavy with coastal and bermuda as it thrives under such favorable weather and so much rain. Wild flowers and rambling rose bushes grow and bloom and climb over old worn fences...a living calendar picture. Spring has come to this world of our's.
We arrive at loved ones' door. Wrinkled hands of those wise in their years hug children to them, caress faces 80 years younger than their own. Eyes that have seen so much more of life than the innocent blue that smile up into their's. Dark chocolate eyes laugh and dance merrily as gigantic old man hoists her up in his arms, posture now stooped from years spent bent over pipelines, assuring thick black liquid gold courses through the earth and into pipes he lays. Movements much slower than even 11 short years ago as old couple smiles. Knowing looks of love and adoration pass from one to the other as they are surrounded by their living breathing heritage...younger little lives that will surely walk into a time and place they will never see. Generations left to carry on their legacy. Dark weathered face from years spent in the southern sun smiles into the pale perfect complexion of a tiny girl so many years younger than himself. 2 year old sits contentedly, talking excitedly, oblivious yet somehow unknowingly embracing the 4 generation gap that exists between them. How grateful I am for our children to know this. How grateful I am to have this in my own life. How blessed we are to have them in our life...for the children to know their love. How much depth, love and history they bring into our lives...into the lives of our children.
Hard rain pours from tin roof, saturating the 200 acres beyond. Pastures cloaked in dark green, trees standing in contrast with their iridescent lime color of new growth. Wild flowers bloom prolifically beyond. It's a beautiful place...a beautiful time in life.
Grace like this hard pounding rain pours into our lives, saturates every part of our being. How blessed we are. How much we have. Bank account may hold nothing, we may have forsaken the glamorous life for that of happiness and fulfillment, we do not know what tomorrow holds and can only grow wiser from yesterday's mistakes but we are here in this place and time..completely fulfilled and happier than most people will ever in their lifetime know. It can be chaotic and stressful and there are indeed many sacrifices made....but how worth it all it is. I love this simple life we live. How in love I am with adoring husband of mine. How much he loves me, loves absolutely everything about me from my highly driven self down to the fact that I loathe cooking. How he rises early enough to start a roast complete with carrots, potatoes, brown rice and cornbread and then disappears to study for the remainder of the day. How in love with him I am.
Early evening, as we busy ourselves with plating children's dishes he grabs me and pulls me into him. I laughingly push him away stating the obvious.....we have things to do and it's not time to play. Despite my protests, sweet kisses fall like gentle rain on my neck and he continues on undeterred. I relent and melt into him. Fingers lace through long strands of dark hair eventually finding their way down to waist and draw me closer. Lips pressed against his ear I whisper, "Thank you for dinner." Children run and romp thudding the floor beneath us. Tiny little brown eyed girl squeezes in between our legs. We look down and can't help but smile at the interruption to our brief kitchen interlude. With little attention given to her his attention quickly is returned to me. His lips move from neck to ear as he whispers in reply, "It's just because I love you. Do you know how much I love you?" Head buried in his neck I smile back drunk in his love for me, "I think I might." Hot breath against ear he replies, "Just checking." He holds me close one moment longer, hands cup face, lips find mine....long sweet kiss given. Hesitantly his hands leave me and we continue on with dinner preparations, promises given to continue this moment later.
How blessed I am. How much I love what we have been given in our families. How much I love what a good daddy he is. Sweet husband that he is to me...how much more in love we become with each passing day...how much more there is to discover and live with each other. Life is good and I am blessed beyond measure. I ponder momentarily just how I ended up here in this place and time....having come from such devastation and what a mess I had made out of my own life. How is it that such grace was extended to me to be where I am now, raising 8 beautiful children and pregnant once more, loved by someone who sees so much in me, loves me so unconditionally for everything that I am?? I marvel at the grace of God and how He lives and works in my own life and as I see Him transform the lives of our children and that of my husband. Only in Him could I be this fulfilled and this happy and know such extravagant love, the blessings given to us. How beautiful a thing it is to love and give so wholly of yourself that one cannot tell where one ends and the other begins. It truly in is giving that one receives. The more of myself that I give to the Lord as I lay down my own life and my own desires.....the more sacrifices that are made on His behalf.....the more blessed I am and the more I know no greater fulfillment. And the more of myself I give to my husband the more in love I become.
Now quiet house. Smell of rain, world washed completely anew. Cool spring winds whistle softly through the screens of open windows. Dark room, only light of the dim street lamp pouring through. Big calloused hands find me under the covers and pull me to him, gently tracing the curves he finds. Sweet kisses turn to passion as lips find mine once more......in purity, in sweet familiarity of years spent in each other's arms, in the guiltlessness that only marriage provides, in total fulfillment. And I know there is no contentment greater than what I know....that could ever in a lifetime rival this moment.
Fields and pastures heavily graced with thousands of dancing blue ladies mesmerize the eyes. Clouds, having reached capacity, overflow and hard driving rain pelts the windshield in stinging drops. Heavy rain lulls younger children to sleep while older ones continue on in their games and laughter. We find our way through the sloping hills and around the winding roads of the Texas hill country, the desert world transformed for these few rare weeks in time. Lush green grass rivaling that of more northern states, pastures dense and heavy with coastal and bermuda as it thrives under such favorable weather and so much rain. Wild flowers and rambling rose bushes grow and bloom and climb over old worn fences...a living calendar picture. Spring has come to this world of our's.
We arrive at loved ones' door. Wrinkled hands of those wise in their years hug children to them, caress faces 80 years younger than their own. Eyes that have seen so much more of life than the innocent blue that smile up into their's. Dark chocolate eyes laugh and dance merrily as gigantic old man hoists her up in his arms, posture now stooped from years spent bent over pipelines, assuring thick black liquid gold courses through the earth and into pipes he lays. Movements much slower than even 11 short years ago as old couple smiles. Knowing looks of love and adoration pass from one to the other as they are surrounded by their living breathing heritage...younger little lives that will surely walk into a time and place they will never see. Generations left to carry on their legacy. Dark weathered face from years spent in the southern sun smiles into the pale perfect complexion of a tiny girl so many years younger than himself. 2 year old sits contentedly, talking excitedly, oblivious yet somehow unknowingly embracing the 4 generation gap that exists between them. How grateful I am for our children to know this. How grateful I am to have this in my own life. How blessed we are to have them in our life...for the children to know their love. How much depth, love and history they bring into our lives...into the lives of our children.
Hard rain pours from tin roof, saturating the 200 acres beyond. Pastures cloaked in dark green, trees standing in contrast with their iridescent lime color of new growth. Wild flowers bloom prolifically beyond. It's a beautiful place...a beautiful time in life.
Grace like this hard pounding rain pours into our lives, saturates every part of our being. How blessed we are. How much we have. Bank account may hold nothing, we may have forsaken the glamorous life for that of happiness and fulfillment, we do not know what tomorrow holds and can only grow wiser from yesterday's mistakes but we are here in this place and time..completely fulfilled and happier than most people will ever in their lifetime know. It can be chaotic and stressful and there are indeed many sacrifices made....but how worth it all it is. I love this simple life we live. How in love I am with adoring husband of mine. How much he loves me, loves absolutely everything about me from my highly driven self down to the fact that I loathe cooking. How he rises early enough to start a roast complete with carrots, potatoes, brown rice and cornbread and then disappears to study for the remainder of the day. How in love with him I am.
Early evening, as we busy ourselves with plating children's dishes he grabs me and pulls me into him. I laughingly push him away stating the obvious.....we have things to do and it's not time to play. Despite my protests, sweet kisses fall like gentle rain on my neck and he continues on undeterred. I relent and melt into him. Fingers lace through long strands of dark hair eventually finding their way down to waist and draw me closer. Lips pressed against his ear I whisper, "Thank you for dinner." Children run and romp thudding the floor beneath us. Tiny little brown eyed girl squeezes in between our legs. We look down and can't help but smile at the interruption to our brief kitchen interlude. With little attention given to her his attention quickly is returned to me. His lips move from neck to ear as he whispers in reply, "It's just because I love you. Do you know how much I love you?" Head buried in his neck I smile back drunk in his love for me, "I think I might." Hot breath against ear he replies, "Just checking." He holds me close one moment longer, hands cup face, lips find mine....long sweet kiss given. Hesitantly his hands leave me and we continue on with dinner preparations, promises given to continue this moment later.
How blessed I am. How much I love what we have been given in our families. How much I love what a good daddy he is. Sweet husband that he is to me...how much more in love we become with each passing day...how much more there is to discover and live with each other. Life is good and I am blessed beyond measure. I ponder momentarily just how I ended up here in this place and time....having come from such devastation and what a mess I had made out of my own life. How is it that such grace was extended to me to be where I am now, raising 8 beautiful children and pregnant once more, loved by someone who sees so much in me, loves me so unconditionally for everything that I am?? I marvel at the grace of God and how He lives and works in my own life and as I see Him transform the lives of our children and that of my husband. Only in Him could I be this fulfilled and this happy and know such extravagant love, the blessings given to us. How beautiful a thing it is to love and give so wholly of yourself that one cannot tell where one ends and the other begins. It truly in is giving that one receives. The more of myself that I give to the Lord as I lay down my own life and my own desires.....the more sacrifices that are made on His behalf.....the more blessed I am and the more I know no greater fulfillment. And the more of myself I give to my husband the more in love I become.
Now quiet house. Smell of rain, world washed completely anew. Cool spring winds whistle softly through the screens of open windows. Dark room, only light of the dim street lamp pouring through. Big calloused hands find me under the covers and pull me to him, gently tracing the curves he finds. Sweet kisses turn to passion as lips find mine once more......in purity, in sweet familiarity of years spent in each other's arms, in the guiltlessness that only marriage provides, in total fulfillment. And I know there is no contentment greater than what I know....that could ever in a lifetime rival this moment.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Ode to the Second Trimester
12 weeks 3 days. This past Thursday I officially crossed the massive first milestone. Now....why exactly the crap don't I feel better? There's something not so entirely miraculous about finally hitting this huge goal and yet still dealing with nausea. Supposedly...according to so many authoring experts...I'm supposed to feel better. Sooo....where is it??? But, honestly, I am quite elated over making it to this point. Remembering back to 5 weeks ago when the number 12 seemed like forever and a day away. Maybe another week or two and the extreme exhaustion will fade and I will suddenly look up and realize I haven't been sick in days...and I have more energy.
12 week appointment revealed growth of just one perfectly healthy baby with a swiftly beating, perfect little heart. Measuring 2 centimeters behind in uterine size as I have done every single baby pregnancy before, everything looks perfect....such an amazing thing in life when one is told that they may never carry another baby again. Baby is nestled deeply within and played a fair amount of hide and seek before being able to get a good count on "her" heart rate. Once again, I am convinced this is a girl due to how typically girl this pregnancy has been...but would be absolutely delighted to finally get a 6 man team going for the boys. It'd be fun for Ivye to have a sister so close in age but given her feisty, fiery personality I'm quite sure she can fully hold her own if she ends up sandwiched between a ton of boys. Excited husband has already deemed unborn baby his sweet Charlotte Miel and has begun calling her his little Charlye. I'm hopeful that if Charlye turns out to be a tiny boy in need of a G name he won't exactly emerge with a complex. As for boy names....who knows. I'm a bit ready to stray from the G's and go with some other non G names I love such as Wyatt, Micah or Wade. The idea has been tossed out there to maybe use these names as middle names. So, maybe. Right now the only G's we have left for any amount of consideration are Gatlin...which the children are in love with.....and Graham...which I am in love with. We'll see. I really don't think it's a boy so I'm not too worried about it. And, if it is, then we'll have some fun going through names.
I did have to break it to the children that there is only one baby. They were all quite convinced there were two given how entirely sick I have been over the last 2 months, knowing the Lord had answered all the prayers that have been lifted up by each of them for twins again. Disappointment prevailed momentarily but, as they always do, they moved right on into each making their own gender prediction. As for me....I am quite content with one. Despite the fact I would carry twins every pregnancy if we were blessed to be that entirely prolific I am quite content with life and my one little growing baby nestled within.
Back to running. 2nd trimester, lots of energy to eventually come, no more nausea and some beautiful weather. So it is with the dawn of a new week I will continue to run and keep a cleaner house, and cook a little more since I will actually have the ability to tolerate food.
I think we're gonna have a baby come early Nov!!! 12 weeks 3 days. Now just to get past the 14 week mark. Perhaps the obsession with it all won't quite be as prevalent.
Pictures to come. Since week to week is getting entirely boring and nothing ever seems to change I have decided to go month to month. I'll get one done this week to mark 12 weeks and then won't do it again until week 16, then week 20.
12 week appointment revealed growth of just one perfectly healthy baby with a swiftly beating, perfect little heart. Measuring 2 centimeters behind in uterine size as I have done every single baby pregnancy before, everything looks perfect....such an amazing thing in life when one is told that they may never carry another baby again. Baby is nestled deeply within and played a fair amount of hide and seek before being able to get a good count on "her" heart rate. Once again, I am convinced this is a girl due to how typically girl this pregnancy has been...but would be absolutely delighted to finally get a 6 man team going for the boys. It'd be fun for Ivye to have a sister so close in age but given her feisty, fiery personality I'm quite sure she can fully hold her own if she ends up sandwiched between a ton of boys. Excited husband has already deemed unborn baby his sweet Charlotte Miel and has begun calling her his little Charlye. I'm hopeful that if Charlye turns out to be a tiny boy in need of a G name he won't exactly emerge with a complex. As for boy names....who knows. I'm a bit ready to stray from the G's and go with some other non G names I love such as Wyatt, Micah or Wade. The idea has been tossed out there to maybe use these names as middle names. So, maybe. Right now the only G's we have left for any amount of consideration are Gatlin...which the children are in love with.....and Graham...which I am in love with. We'll see. I really don't think it's a boy so I'm not too worried about it. And, if it is, then we'll have some fun going through names.
I did have to break it to the children that there is only one baby. They were all quite convinced there were two given how entirely sick I have been over the last 2 months, knowing the Lord had answered all the prayers that have been lifted up by each of them for twins again. Disappointment prevailed momentarily but, as they always do, they moved right on into each making their own gender prediction. As for me....I am quite content with one. Despite the fact I would carry twins every pregnancy if we were blessed to be that entirely prolific I am quite content with life and my one little growing baby nestled within.
Back to running. 2nd trimester, lots of energy to eventually come, no more nausea and some beautiful weather. So it is with the dawn of a new week I will continue to run and keep a cleaner house, and cook a little more since I will actually have the ability to tolerate food.
I think we're gonna have a baby come early Nov!!! 12 weeks 3 days. Now just to get past the 14 week mark. Perhaps the obsession with it all won't quite be as prevalent.
Pictures to come. Since week to week is getting entirely boring and nothing ever seems to change I have decided to go month to month. I'll get one done this week to mark 12 weeks and then won't do it again until week 16, then week 20.
Monday, April 12, 2010
The Simple Woman's Daybook
After-thought, due to the petty and trivial negativity of some of the content in this post...
I'm gonna just gripe awhile and then I'll feel better and life will return to normal. The griping and whining over such trivial and petty things could definitely be worse and I am making quite the desperate effort to stifle it and focus on how very much I have been given. But..honestly, I just don't feel like being entirely positive right now. Quite actually, I live an amazing, wonderful, quite dreamy life so this griping session can be ignored by any and all and would probably be better off skipped in its entirety. The only downside to public blogging, I suppose...the ability for everyone to read the moments absorbed in self pity and the ungratefulness. It's a moment in time that will surely pass. They all do. It's been a rough day...a rough week....a rough last 7 or so weeks and sometimes it seems as though the warfare around us and the attacks against our family do not ever cease. It seems at times as though we have lived in a crisis since last June. But, honestly and truthfully, we do not and life could be so much worse. We have just come out of one of the hardest years of our entire lives and at times it just seems that all I want to do is sit down and just breathe for awhile. So, I'm going to gripe and then turn my attention upward and onward and onto positive things...the little things that bless our daily life and how we live....how amazing my life really is. Honestly, it may be hard for this moment, this day, and the focus is easily shifted to pessimism but life is just pretty good if you strip it all down to the basics. My children are safe, my baby grows and flourishes, heartbeat can now be easily heard pounding rhythmically along, we are no longer paralyzed in grief as we try to sort through the emotions of innocence lost, violation of life, daily talking with deputies and children's advocacy centers and hospitals and we no longer mourn so deeply the loss of our 14 week pregnancy and baby boy and fight daily the fear of the diagnosis of long term infertility.....and it's a beautiful day in Texas. I have a husband desperately in love with me and 8 amazing, beautiful children that are well behaved and learning the true principles of life, the importance of relationships, character, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and learning how to be happy despite outward circumstances...true life building skills that they will carry into the relationship they have with the Lord, with family members around them, their work life, their marriage and as they parent. Life is really good.
Outside my window......gusty southeast wind, 80 degrees and a beautiful day to go run...so I probably should but I just don't feel like it.
I am thinking.....that sometimes it is very much a definite effort and choice to be thankful and content. It is not always the bubbly emotion that comes when times are good but more the conscious decision to remain so when things are hard.
I am thankful for.......the fact that I do know that I am not forsaken or abandoned, there is a season for everything. And I am assured, as everything that has ever gone before, "this too shall pass".
I am wearing.....jeans, an old FD t-shirt and barefooted.
I am remembering......Aubrey's tonsils are still huge, she has cried non stop for days that her ear hurts, she has finished all of her medication and should not be dealing with any of this, the phone service for the town has been out for 3 months now and it is a waste of money to continue paying for service we are not getting and that they can never seem to fix, the van ran out of gas yesterday and cannot be refilled until Thurs, the van also overheated on the way home as it was running out of gas, and that I have not seen my husband in weeks...and we still have 4 1/2 more weeks of this crap until the lieutenant's test. And then he leaves after his test to be gone that entire weekend. And I'm ready for some good news.
I am going.......to not gripe anymore, to be grateful and thankful and continue to keep my head up despite the fact I am very much a single parent to 8 children right now and am still nauseated and am still so exhausted that all I can do is sleep. But, alas, I have not going to think on those things. I am going to remember that I even have a husband to begin with that loves me enough to be this dedicated and this committed and is strong enough to ignore my pleas and self pity and my yearning for him to return to me and continue on undeterred...that he can see the bigger picture even when I grow weary and no longer want to see it. And I am going to not whine anymore but focus on what I have been given in everything around me and how blessed I truly am in every way.
I am reading.......the power of positive thinking......ok, so not entirely true. More like....Pillow Talk, authored by Dr Cotton Sheets and published by Bedside Publishing Co.
I am hoping......for alot of stuff.
I am hearing.......birds chirp.
Noticing that....it is now up to Grayson and I to move our new, ugly, 25.00 swingset into our backyard.
Pondering these words....
The Roots of Violence:
Wealth without work,
Pleasure without conscience,
Knowledge without character,
Commerce without morality,
Science without humanity,
Worship without sacrifice,
Politics without principles.
From the kitchen...... carrots and celery with ranch dressing
Around the house......an old deep bathtub that I fully intend to take advantage of tonight...by mere candle light and with tons of bubbles and a leftover lime beer I found buried in the back of our shop refrigerator (maybe 1 will get rid of this insane craving???)...despite the fact that shift husband is absent and will not be here for any of it.
One of my favorite things.....date nights, Red Lobster biscuits and crab stuffed flounder, steak and sweet potatoes, the sound of my baby's heartbeat, sonograms
From my picture journal.....
Nothing like a massive, box fort. This was given to us by moving neighbor. This picture would be before windows and door were "installed".
I'm thinking the wild morning hair and peanut butter waffle face make her all the sweeter. 
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Cheap and Productive...with some pictures
So Evye's looking a little elfish and orphanage worthy but they'd been hard at play all day long so at least there's just cause. Other than elf girl and deer-in-the-headlight boy it's a pretty good spontaneous pic.
Keeping it fun....apparently Ivye wasn't clued in on this fact.
Keeping it fun....apparently Ivye wasn't clued in on this fact.
Tractor loving boys. 
Grayson keeping everybody entertained with obnoxious skits between action figures.
His only birthday request was a cake with sprinkles. A man so entirely easy to please. Some girl is going to be very happy someday.
Lots of eager help opening up boxes and freeing toys from their confines.
Sweet sweet Ivye-girl. Little girls just don't get any cuter than this.
The children rescued this bad boy from the cat's mouth. The same cat that the boys saw fit to bathe and the very same one that kept us busy boomeranging back into the house with the bird. 
Ivye's gotten old enough to make fake picture smiles. She can now successfully say "cheese" along with many other words in her broad vocabulary....and when saying cheese she does this. It's about as fake as it gets but pretty entertaining to everyone watching her.
Bibleman in his new role as tractor operator. Not sure he ever bargained for this job when he signed up for his foe defeating career. But so far he seems to be enjoying it since the only reason he ever abandons his behind the wheel status is to sword fight a few bad guys and then promptly returns to his, apparently more enjoyable, farming career.
So it is no real secret I love productivity and cheap. In fact, I love both so much that it is very hard to decide which one would rate first in my book of appreciated things in life. The only thing better is free. But since I've gotten myself into trouble with free I tend to honor city council member husband's reputation and only do free when it's legal. But cheap is the next best thing. When both productivity and cheap are accomplished in one week life just doesn't get much better than that.....the pinnacle of mastering it all. It doesn't exactly help that we are being forced to live out of the change jar due to being more than a little broke until the next pay check comes rolling in. The moral, cheap is no longer really even an option. Oh...the joys of large family living. But... bluntly stated, I'd rather be surrounded by a lively, active house filled to the brim with happy kids...most days....than sitting out in a boat on a lake with my more "affordable" 2 children. So we choose to live in a very broke fashion knowing that we have been amazingly, entirely, extravagantly blessed with these children and God has not ever once ceased to provide for each and every one He has given us....except for a few times. Alright, so not entirely true. We have learned to decipher between needs and wants....one of the major keys to success in a large family life. We may live in a 3 bedroom house and stack them like cord wood against every wall we've got and they may eat beans and rice fore every meal and be 20 pounds underweight and drool and lust over every restaurant we pass...but hey, they're pretty much happy on any given day. And that's what counts.
So, in all reality we seriously are living from a change jar til the 15th. But we have never done without and never gone lacking for anything...except for maybe a Sonic coke here or there. So, this evil Sonic craving did eventually get the best of me. As we made our egg route this past Friday the van, seemingly on it's own, drove itself to Sonic. Having dug every penny, nickel, dime and quarter out of both couches and every van seat that exists we came up with 4.00. Not bad. But in all of my eagerness...and guilt for indulging in front of my children....I ordered not just myself but Grayson and Evye one too. I figure a 2.00 coke for me and 1.00 for each of them. We could swing it. Maybe dig a few more pennies out and cover tax. And buying for 2 kids helps ease the guilt, as only 6 of them are screaming and not all 8. My enthusiasm and excitement over my coke proved to do more harm than good as Sonic personnel quoted back the order and then gave a total of 6.14. Ummmm.....what the crap, people??? I just ordered cokes..not the entire menu...and I don't HAVE 6.14. I have 4 dollars and 11 cents. Knowing the van held 4 little money loving boys that are convinced they are the richest men in the world when carrying 1 dime and 30 pennies in their pocket I quickly ordered every kid in the van to start dumping pockets. Uncoordinated little hands are not so entirely adept at rummaging through pockets maxed out with dull pocket knives, die cast cars, rocks, roly polies, dead butterflies, 1/2 eaten peanut butter sandwiches, and a few chicken feathers to reach bottom where dimes, nickels, quarters and pennies exist. Not so amused window waitress now stands by waiting...and not so patiently. At this point I could only laugh as the van grew louder and louder with "I got a penny", "HEY!!! I got a quarter!!!" and "I got 2 dimes, Mama!!" and Gavin's 2 year old, "I got 2 money's!!" since everything in his life now revolves around the number 2. 2 pennies, 2 tractors, 2 balls, 2 trains, 2 babies. So, not surprising that he had 2 "money's"..which totaled 5 pennies, no less. As little hands passed change from row to row until it reached its destination of the front seat Sonic girl grew more and more irritable. It didn't exactly help that it was lunch hour at the only restaurant in all of town....seriously. The town..population 2,000...sports a Sonic and a Pizza Inn. So, 98% of the population chose the quick drive-in over the sit down pizza bar. This bigger little town is so forsaken that even Dairy Queen went out of business. That's pretty pathetic.
Between all of the change hiding within 2, 4 and 5 year old's pockets we did manage to come up with 6.14...boasting an entire 18 cents left over in pennies. All of that to say....cheap is critical at this point. Cheap is always critical but there are times when it is crucial and takes on a whole new depth. I refuse to buy anything full price. It's just a waste of money to me. Odds are, somebody somewhere in life wanted that same item too and it has now, somewhere along the way, lost the original appeal it used to possess and is being sold for a fraction of the retail price....or, better yet, being given away for free. So, I scavenge. I have been known to be so cheap that I will turn over printer paper and reuse the other side. I think, in a politically correct kind of way, it's known as practicing frugality.
Along the frugal lines, the children were all desperately in need of pasture boots. The hand me down boots are no longer entirely wearable due to the soles having fallen off. Not entirely what you need for snake protection. Just last weekend we managed to stumble upon 4 pair of used children's boots priced at 5.00 each. Today preacher neighbor had a moving sale. The children and I raided change saving husband's jar and came up with 2.00 to bring home a porch swing. It needs a few nails and a coat of red paint but we now have a longed for porch swing. Lover boy's and my date nights consist of grilling steaks..or when we're too broke for steaks just some oven pizzas, sweet potatoes and some rolls or something after children are sleeping soundly. We then gravitate to front porch to watch our lazy world go by, the millions of stars light up the night and the massive moon break over the horizon. Every once in awhile we'll really have some fun and find our way to the highest point of our tin roof, lay on blankets and watch stars twinkle...or even make daring shoots across the sky every once in awhile. After that gets old or the show's over we pile up in bed and watch a movie. The epitome of cheap....but also the epitome of fun and comfortable.
Bunny trails. The point....we now have a porch swing for our date nights. A 2.00 porch swing. We also acquired a 20.00 barnwood gun case, a 20.00 barnwood cabinet for Mother, a 3.00 bread machine...since my ability at bread making is so wonderfully perfected, a 200.00 archery bow and arrow professional hunting set for 10.00 that Grayson bought and paid for and some other general crap for under 2.00...all legitimate stuff, mind you. Excess....sit around and decorate shelf crap....is not really permitted around here, simply for the fact that it lasts all of about 5 minutes...10 max...before being broken. Living proof of this fact....Evye, in all of her girliness, would not leave without a miniature musical snowglobe, angel within, for .10 cents, promising wildly to keep it tucked safely within her cubby. She promptly dug the .10 cents out of her purse..about the only money she possess since she is the world's worst at saving anything and prefers to mail it to sweet best friends in North Carolina....and assured me she could pay for it. I was skeptical but eventually and relunctantly caved. No sooner had they cleared the porch before it got dropped and was shattered. Tears fell in very girly fashion. So...no clutter junk. It just gets broken, stepped on, rained on or generally demolished in some fashion. And it's just more to dust around and clutter the brain if it does manage to survive. If it looks like chaos it creates chaos in the brain...not a very conducive schooling environment, in my opinion.
The winning score.....the very desired, lusted after swingset that sits....never used....in preacher neighbor's front yard. It is a daily battle to keep the children from wandering next door and playing on the metal skeleton of a swingset. They are constantly told no...not to drive the neighbor's crazy by our orphanage like status migrating to the north about 100 feet and taking up residence on their more alluring property. The grass is always greener on the other side, of course...literally, in our case. It helps when you don't have 7 cats, 8 kids, 3 hundred pound dogs and a myriad of chickens stampeding the property. And why the children chose to fall in love with this specific swingset is beyond me. We go out and surprise them with a long since desired wooden swingset, complete with 2 story indoor fort and a slide and they choose to lust after the metal skeleton frame thing of an object that occupies the yard next door. Granted, it does have monkey bars and our's does not , but overall....it pretty much sucks. However, the children are of a very different mindset and have yearned for this thing day after day for no less than a year now. Today it was made available to us at a lovely 25.00. So with an "i.o.u." to preacher friend Brad now has the lovely job of picking it up and moving it the few feet to our backyard....as I am not so redneck yet as to consent to a swingset in our front yard. Give it time and I'm sure I'll get there. Still too much city left in me to do it quite yet though. That happens to be the most exciting news taking place right now. A new ugly swingset.
With morning sickness waning to some extent I finally found the stamina and energy to run most of this past week and tackle the playroom. Woefully neglected 600 sq ft room has weighed on the brain for months now. It goes through stages. It gets trashed and then we do a massive cleanup..then somehow somebody manages to crap it out all over again and then we clean it up all over again....and round and round we go. So with children notified in advance of the project that lay ahead I finally summoned the troops and went to work. With absent husband away spraying trucks it motivated everyone to do it thoroughly and quickly as a surprise when he finally found his way home. The next project is to rip out all glued to the cement carpet..thanks to the previous owner's redneck ways...and spray the entire floor in Vortex, accomplishing the goal of waterproofing and stainproofing it...along with making it friendly for feet, brooms, vacuums and mops alike.
So, we have managed to be not only cheap but productive this past week. I have run, I have dug through van seats for change, I have cleaned and scrubbed and organized, I have accomplished projects, I have robbed young boys of pocket change and I have successfully crossed off 1/2 of the to do list that has existed for 11 wks now. Feels pretty good.
Thursday, April 08, 2010
The Unsleepable
Oh I've missed seeing this bittersweet hour of the day...or more along the lines of morning. Insomnia can be held responsible for this...or maybe that I took a 3 1/2 hr nap due to the fact I was falling asleep during Aubrey's reading lesson. I'm growing a bit bored of staring at the ceiling. There's only so many things you can imagine taking shape within the bumpiness that looms above...the bumpiness that is so entirely chastised and loathed on HGTV. For no one in their right mind ever purchases a house with "cottage cheese" ceilings. Heaven forbid. Your guest might think you were poor or something....or even worse...have no style in taste whatsoever. So...we bought a house with bumpies. And, like every other house I have ever lived in, it felt exactly like home since I have actually never lived in a house without a bumpy ceiling. I seriously think my children will be no worse for the wear due to being forced to live with a mountainous texture above their heads. In fact...if we were to buy a house without the miniature white grand canyon like setting taking place on the roof over my head I might just go texture it on there to feel at home...and perturb the rest of the world...or at least those that exist on HGTV. And then I'd call them and tell them to come film my house cause I actually PUT the stuff up there when it didn't exist before my occupation of it. But seeing as how I haven't watched HGTV...or any TV for that matter....in months due to the cable being turned off I wouldn't know what's in style right now as far as housing style and trends go. Other than the fact that white, poppy textured, bumpy ceilings are not.
Anyway....tired of staring at the bumps and creating bump images, rather than cloud images, in the glitter that somehow made its way into that same white texture when they applied it. So, here I sit....with a beer craving no less. Out of all of the freakin pregnancy cravings I have ever had I can safely say never in my life have I once entertained a beer craving....until about 3 days ago. And it's stuck in the head and refuses to go away. Something in beer must be healthy because my inner self is desperately craving whatever miracle potion it possesses. So here I sit at 2:15 in the morning with an alcohol and olive oil and rosemary Triscuit craving. Not exactly sure how that one came about but I can assure you that it is quite real. If we didn't live out in ten buck two and if it wasn't at some forbidden hour of the night and if I didn't have a ton of sleeping kids and if every store around here didn't close when all of the geriatrics go to bed at 7pm I'd just load everybody up and go deal with the Triscuit craving. As for the beer....that'll have to wait awhile. But be forewarned that the night I give birth I plan on having at least 2 beers immediately following baby's arrival. I find it odd that I even want the stuff since I don't even entirely like it or enjoy it. It's ok but nothing worth craving. Why it seems to fill a void now...who knows. But, for now, I'll go eat olive oil and rosemary Triscuits dipped in fat free cream cheese. Or just eat them plain....cause they're just that good. If I had a way to get them.
On to more exciting life happenings. I've had a few "love them anyway" moments with the children lately. The ones that come when you probably wouldn't love them anyway except that they're your children so you're just a little obligated to do so despite any and all embarrassment they bring you. Yep...those kind. It began a few days ago with lovely little 7 year old girl approaching me saying, "Mom, your butt is getting really big.....but not really...... I'm just teasing....a little bit. But kinda not....cause it really is." Oh dear blunt and honest one, will you ever learn any measure of diplomacy and the fine art of not exactly stating the obvious or letting every thought that crosses your mind come rolling out???
So we make our way into Sam's. Visiting Mother was with us and studious husband carried on locked away studying in the attic at home. As we rounded the bakery section to gather supplies for Garrett's birthday party 5 year old red head stood mesmerized by the gigantic, collect-them-all-in-one-purchase Transformer toy package. Just as supersized stores have everything available for purchase in bulk...so do they have every toy available in bulk. If you ever wanted one Hot Wheels you can buy 90 of them at Sam's. If you ever longed for a little stuffed animal you can buy one twice the size of your children at Sam's. If you ever wanted a wooden swingset you can buy one on steroids at Sam's. And if you ever wanted a baby doll you can buy one with everything she needs for life from diapers to a college degree all in one box.....at Sam's. So, busy employee finally gave red head his attention due to the fact red could not be ignored at this point. And employee man was driving the cart that included the object of red's desire.
Employee: "You like Transformers?"
Grant: "Yes sir!!! I LIKE transformers."
Employee: "yep..those are some pretty cool guys in there."
Grant: a bunch of stuff I had no clue about and then, "That one's Megatron and he turns into a car and that one's Bumblebee and we have that car. It's yellow and black. I want that when I grow up." It's always so nice hearing your children's role models be voiced in front of store employees, or anybody else for that matter. Role models such as nasty, horrific looking Transformers when we work so hard at purchasing David and Goliath, Jonah, Moses and Bibleman action figures. Yes....the pinnacle of success has been reached. Buy them stuff from the Christian bookstore and they take up with Transformers. Maybe if we buy Transformers they'll actually dream of David and Goliath, being puked out of a whale, gazing upon a burning bush and having your hair cut off. Although I am actually quite fine with a lack of hair cutting dreams. Samson can keep on being Samson in the Bible with his chopped off hair as my children refrain from any and all scissor endeavors.
Employee in response to Grant: "Oh yeah? We'll I like him cause he looks pretty cool. Do you watch Transformers and have that movie?"
Grant: "Not anymore. My dad said we couldn't watch it anymore and he scratched it up and broke the cd."
Employee: "Oh really??? Hmmm. That's not good"
So I step in. " Yes, but Grant tell him why Daddy did that and why y'all are not allowed to watch it anymore." In all of my ignorance I just naively assumed he'd say that it has bad language or cuss words in it and other bad stuff. All things we've explained before to them.
Instead he blurts out confidently and clearly enough for all in the near vicinity to hear, "Cause they say shit in it and Mom and Daddy said I can't say that anymore."
Well. Hmmm. Alright.....now that we've laid that completely on the table for all of Sam's to hear let's move on, honey....shall we?
Tonight I ran bath water for the two little ones. Instead I went back in to check on water height and found 4 little boys already within. Way more than I bargained for or had the desire to bathe but, it was what it was and I might as well just bathe them all. Evye could bathe Ivye after she and Aubrey emerged from their shower.
As I walked into the bathroom to bathe them all my socked feet were quickly underwater. Lovely. As this happens to be a common problem with lots of little boys in a tub I quickly set out to right the wrong..."Who did this??? Who poured the water out all over the floor? Y'all know better than this. And somebody's butt's not going to be very happy tonight." Four little high pitched voices..."Poppy did it!!!"
Me: "I've got news, boys. Poppy did not do this. Cats do not like water so that tactic's not gonna cut it."
4 little laughing boys: "I know!!! Kitty cats DON'T like water!! He made a mess!"
Me, sternly: "Quit blaming Poppy. He didn't make this mess. Cats don't get in the water. Who dumped the cup of water out???"
Garrett: "But Poppy DID get in the water. He was so stinky and needed to take a bath with us. His breath is nasty!"
Garrison: "Yeah!! Grant was washing him off and brushing his teeth. He didn't like it very much."
Grant: " Yeah!!! He scratched me all up!!! On my leg and on my arm and on my face. See?? (bleeding scratches on legs and arms and cheek) He wanted out really bad but I didn't let him. He stinks."
Me: "Well then how'd he get out???"
All boys: "After he went under water to wash off he came up and jumped out and ran away. He sounded soooo funny!!!"....laughing hysterically and mimicking horrific cat meows.
Staring in disbelief: "Y'all seriously put Poppy in the bathtub??!!!"
Little boys were too overcome with laughter to respond. Except for 2 year old Gavin managing between raucous laughter: "Yes ma'am, mom!!! Poppy ran 'way...so fast!" sending everyone into fits of more laughter.
So comforting to know that our animals are so socially well rounded and adaptable...and that they smell good. Instructions were given to go look for the half drowned cat. He was found looking more like a drowned stinky rat under the coffee table....and sounding more like a sick duck instead of the cat that he is. Older kids fussed over him and attempted to blow dry him with a hair dryer which only furthered his traumatized self. Tortured cat took off into the night only to return half an hour later to finish fluffing out on the bed.
This same said cat is the one that proudly trotted into the house the other day with a live bird in his mouth. Carried it under the bed and promptly let go of it and set it free within the walls of our home. I freaked as bird went flying, cat went chasing and leaping and children went screaming and laughing. So I screamed with them...though their's was derived much more from the fun loving, this-is-a-great-life nature while mine was a little more out of the "crap...now what??!!!" nature. Cat caught bird and drug him back under bed. Kids caught cat, drug him out, desposited him outside. Before we could slam the door on him cat turns and, in bullet like fashion, missiles himself back under bed...bird flapping. More screaming. Cat is drug back out and this time while in route to door can no longer keep teethy vice grip on bird and opens mouth. Bird flies again. Back to window...cat in hot pursuit. Cat leaps for bird and catches once more, hauls butt under bed. More cat dragging..more dumping outside the door. Door slams. 3 minutes pass. Inevitably some little boy wants to go outside and play and opens door. Cat and bird again take up residence under bed. Bird still flapping. Catch cat...dump cat/bird duo back outside and slam door. Chain lock the back door. Children gravitate to front door. Cat/bird dart back within this time from front door under bed. By this time I'm so screamed out and so desensitized to the state of the bird and the fact we have a flying mammal in our home I calmly tell children...."Go get the cat and dump his butt back outside. Make sure you get the bird....and pick up the feathers. He might have lice." So we do this twice more. Then call everyone in and chain lock every outgoing door we have. Finally an hour later when the coast was thought to be clear, Grayson is given the permission to step outside and survey the lay of the land and if it harbors any bird loving, house loving cats. And there on our doorstep lay the once very alive, very flapping bird now shredded into tiny pieces as a love and endearment gift from our cat. Little boys loved the blood and guts of it all and little girls no longer even cry over the loss of animal life. Instead they stand by the side and do girly little things like..."Ewwww. That is so nasty!!!"...yet keep staring and drawing closer. Then kick it over with the toe of their boot to see the damage done to the other side. Oh so sweet, feminine girls of mine. Little boys race with excitement to get a plastic sack and Mr responsible goes for a paper towel with which to pick it up. Everyone stands around grossed out and quite taken with the sight. "Mom!! Come 'ere. You gotta see this!!! It is sooooo nasty!! I can see the worms in its stomach!! Ohhh...that's so gross! Come quick!!! You've just gotta look at this!!! Ewww!! May I touch it???? Come 'ere!!" Ummm....no thank you. You just go right on ahead and get your science lesson done for the day and then clean it up when you're done. Let me know when it's off the porch.
So is it even normal to be up and famished at 3am in the morning, scrounging around in the kitchen for anything and everything to eat, lamenting the fact there are no rosemary olive oil Triscuits??? I'm thinking not. For the first time in life I think I can actually understand why husbands get sent to the store at all hours of the night for pickles and ice cream. Though I wouldn't do that to hard working, hard sleeping husband. I'd just drive my own butt there....if he was home and if there was anywhere to actually go. How is it possible to be so hungry that your stomach actually burns in the middle of the night??? This is crazy crap.
Children will arise in only 3 1/2 short hours. I will go try once more to sleep. Though I've been quite productive during my early morning hours I'm beginning to doubt my level of productivity tomorrow. Stomach has been somewhat quieted by this past Sunday's leftover roast beef, carrots and potatoes. It wasn't olive oil and rosemary Triscuits but it was enough to quiet the lion worthy roars. Maybe had I actually drunk a beer I would've been asleep hours ago. Maybe my body knew it was insomniatic and it knew beer would cure the problem. I'm telling you...you're body's a lot smarter than what you ever give it credit for. There's a rhyme and a reason to most everything it does. So...come 29 weeks from now I plan on drinking one or two or however many beers and curing whatever hidden deficiency resides in my current diet.
On to bed....or at least to try.
Anyway....tired of staring at the bumps and creating bump images, rather than cloud images, in the glitter that somehow made its way into that same white texture when they applied it. So, here I sit....with a beer craving no less. Out of all of the freakin pregnancy cravings I have ever had I can safely say never in my life have I once entertained a beer craving....until about 3 days ago. And it's stuck in the head and refuses to go away. Something in beer must be healthy because my inner self is desperately craving whatever miracle potion it possesses. So here I sit at 2:15 in the morning with an alcohol and olive oil and rosemary Triscuit craving. Not exactly sure how that one came about but I can assure you that it is quite real. If we didn't live out in ten buck two and if it wasn't at some forbidden hour of the night and if I didn't have a ton of sleeping kids and if every store around here didn't close when all of the geriatrics go to bed at 7pm I'd just load everybody up and go deal with the Triscuit craving. As for the beer....that'll have to wait awhile. But be forewarned that the night I give birth I plan on having at least 2 beers immediately following baby's arrival. I find it odd that I even want the stuff since I don't even entirely like it or enjoy it. It's ok but nothing worth craving. Why it seems to fill a void now...who knows. But, for now, I'll go eat olive oil and rosemary Triscuits dipped in fat free cream cheese. Or just eat them plain....cause they're just that good. If I had a way to get them.
On to more exciting life happenings. I've had a few "love them anyway" moments with the children lately. The ones that come when you probably wouldn't love them anyway except that they're your children so you're just a little obligated to do so despite any and all embarrassment they bring you. Yep...those kind. It began a few days ago with lovely little 7 year old girl approaching me saying, "Mom, your butt is getting really big.....but not really...... I'm just teasing....a little bit. But kinda not....cause it really is." Oh dear blunt and honest one, will you ever learn any measure of diplomacy and the fine art of not exactly stating the obvious or letting every thought that crosses your mind come rolling out???
So we make our way into Sam's. Visiting Mother was with us and studious husband carried on locked away studying in the attic at home. As we rounded the bakery section to gather supplies for Garrett's birthday party 5 year old red head stood mesmerized by the gigantic, collect-them-all-in-one-purchase Transformer toy package. Just as supersized stores have everything available for purchase in bulk...so do they have every toy available in bulk. If you ever wanted one Hot Wheels you can buy 90 of them at Sam's. If you ever longed for a little stuffed animal you can buy one twice the size of your children at Sam's. If you ever wanted a wooden swingset you can buy one on steroids at Sam's. And if you ever wanted a baby doll you can buy one with everything she needs for life from diapers to a college degree all in one box.....at Sam's. So, busy employee finally gave red head his attention due to the fact red could not be ignored at this point. And employee man was driving the cart that included the object of red's desire.
Employee: "You like Transformers?"
Grant: "Yes sir!!! I LIKE transformers."
Employee: "yep..those are some pretty cool guys in there."
Grant: a bunch of stuff I had no clue about and then, "That one's Megatron and he turns into a car and that one's Bumblebee and we have that car. It's yellow and black. I want that when I grow up." It's always so nice hearing your children's role models be voiced in front of store employees, or anybody else for that matter. Role models such as nasty, horrific looking Transformers when we work so hard at purchasing David and Goliath, Jonah, Moses and Bibleman action figures. Yes....the pinnacle of success has been reached. Buy them stuff from the Christian bookstore and they take up with Transformers. Maybe if we buy Transformers they'll actually dream of David and Goliath, being puked out of a whale, gazing upon a burning bush and having your hair cut off. Although I am actually quite fine with a lack of hair cutting dreams. Samson can keep on being Samson in the Bible with his chopped off hair as my children refrain from any and all scissor endeavors.
Employee in response to Grant: "Oh yeah? We'll I like him cause he looks pretty cool. Do you watch Transformers and have that movie?"
Grant: "Not anymore. My dad said we couldn't watch it anymore and he scratched it up and broke the cd."
Employee: "Oh really??? Hmmm. That's not good"
So I step in. " Yes, but Grant tell him why Daddy did that and why y'all are not allowed to watch it anymore." In all of my ignorance I just naively assumed he'd say that it has bad language or cuss words in it and other bad stuff. All things we've explained before to them.
Instead he blurts out confidently and clearly enough for all in the near vicinity to hear, "Cause they say shit in it and Mom and Daddy said I can't say that anymore."
Well. Hmmm. Alright.....now that we've laid that completely on the table for all of Sam's to hear let's move on, honey....shall we?
Tonight I ran bath water for the two little ones. Instead I went back in to check on water height and found 4 little boys already within. Way more than I bargained for or had the desire to bathe but, it was what it was and I might as well just bathe them all. Evye could bathe Ivye after she and Aubrey emerged from their shower.
As I walked into the bathroom to bathe them all my socked feet were quickly underwater. Lovely. As this happens to be a common problem with lots of little boys in a tub I quickly set out to right the wrong..."Who did this??? Who poured the water out all over the floor? Y'all know better than this. And somebody's butt's not going to be very happy tonight." Four little high pitched voices..."Poppy did it!!!"
Me: "I've got news, boys. Poppy did not do this. Cats do not like water so that tactic's not gonna cut it."
4 little laughing boys: "I know!!! Kitty cats DON'T like water!! He made a mess!"
Me, sternly: "Quit blaming Poppy. He didn't make this mess. Cats don't get in the water. Who dumped the cup of water out???"
Garrett: "But Poppy DID get in the water. He was so stinky and needed to take a bath with us. His breath is nasty!"
Garrison: "Yeah!! Grant was washing him off and brushing his teeth. He didn't like it very much."
Grant: " Yeah!!! He scratched me all up!!! On my leg and on my arm and on my face. See?? (bleeding scratches on legs and arms and cheek) He wanted out really bad but I didn't let him. He stinks."
Me: "Well then how'd he get out???"
All boys: "After he went under water to wash off he came up and jumped out and ran away. He sounded soooo funny!!!"....laughing hysterically and mimicking horrific cat meows.
Staring in disbelief: "Y'all seriously put Poppy in the bathtub??!!!"
Little boys were too overcome with laughter to respond. Except for 2 year old Gavin managing between raucous laughter: "Yes ma'am, mom!!! Poppy ran 'way...so fast!" sending everyone into fits of more laughter.
So comforting to know that our animals are so socially well rounded and adaptable...and that they smell good. Instructions were given to go look for the half drowned cat. He was found looking more like a drowned stinky rat under the coffee table....and sounding more like a sick duck instead of the cat that he is. Older kids fussed over him and attempted to blow dry him with a hair dryer which only furthered his traumatized self. Tortured cat took off into the night only to return half an hour later to finish fluffing out on the bed.
This same said cat is the one that proudly trotted into the house the other day with a live bird in his mouth. Carried it under the bed and promptly let go of it and set it free within the walls of our home. I freaked as bird went flying, cat went chasing and leaping and children went screaming and laughing. So I screamed with them...though their's was derived much more from the fun loving, this-is-a-great-life nature while mine was a little more out of the "crap...now what??!!!" nature. Cat caught bird and drug him back under bed. Kids caught cat, drug him out, desposited him outside. Before we could slam the door on him cat turns and, in bullet like fashion, missiles himself back under bed...bird flapping. More screaming. Cat is drug back out and this time while in route to door can no longer keep teethy vice grip on bird and opens mouth. Bird flies again. Back to window...cat in hot pursuit. Cat leaps for bird and catches once more, hauls butt under bed. More cat dragging..more dumping outside the door. Door slams. 3 minutes pass. Inevitably some little boy wants to go outside and play and opens door. Cat and bird again take up residence under bed. Bird still flapping. Catch cat...dump cat/bird duo back outside and slam door. Chain lock the back door. Children gravitate to front door. Cat/bird dart back within this time from front door under bed. By this time I'm so screamed out and so desensitized to the state of the bird and the fact we have a flying mammal in our home I calmly tell children...."Go get the cat and dump his butt back outside. Make sure you get the bird....and pick up the feathers. He might have lice." So we do this twice more. Then call everyone in and chain lock every outgoing door we have. Finally an hour later when the coast was thought to be clear, Grayson is given the permission to step outside and survey the lay of the land and if it harbors any bird loving, house loving cats. And there on our doorstep lay the once very alive, very flapping bird now shredded into tiny pieces as a love and endearment gift from our cat. Little boys loved the blood and guts of it all and little girls no longer even cry over the loss of animal life. Instead they stand by the side and do girly little things like..."Ewwww. That is so nasty!!!"...yet keep staring and drawing closer. Then kick it over with the toe of their boot to see the damage done to the other side. Oh so sweet, feminine girls of mine. Little boys race with excitement to get a plastic sack and Mr responsible goes for a paper towel with which to pick it up. Everyone stands around grossed out and quite taken with the sight. "Mom!! Come 'ere. You gotta see this!!! It is sooooo nasty!! I can see the worms in its stomach!! Ohhh...that's so gross! Come quick!!! You've just gotta look at this!!! Ewww!! May I touch it???? Come 'ere!!" Ummm....no thank you. You just go right on ahead and get your science lesson done for the day and then clean it up when you're done. Let me know when it's off the porch.
So is it even normal to be up and famished at 3am in the morning, scrounging around in the kitchen for anything and everything to eat, lamenting the fact there are no rosemary olive oil Triscuits??? I'm thinking not. For the first time in life I think I can actually understand why husbands get sent to the store at all hours of the night for pickles and ice cream. Though I wouldn't do that to hard working, hard sleeping husband. I'd just drive my own butt there....if he was home and if there was anywhere to actually go. How is it possible to be so hungry that your stomach actually burns in the middle of the night??? This is crazy crap.
Children will arise in only 3 1/2 short hours. I will go try once more to sleep. Though I've been quite productive during my early morning hours I'm beginning to doubt my level of productivity tomorrow. Stomach has been somewhat quieted by this past Sunday's leftover roast beef, carrots and potatoes. It wasn't olive oil and rosemary Triscuits but it was enough to quiet the lion worthy roars. Maybe had I actually drunk a beer I would've been asleep hours ago. Maybe my body knew it was insomniatic and it knew beer would cure the problem. I'm telling you...you're body's a lot smarter than what you ever give it credit for. There's a rhyme and a reason to most everything it does. So...come 29 weeks from now I plan on drinking one or two or however many beers and curing whatever hidden deficiency resides in my current diet.
On to bed....or at least to try.
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
Picture Journal - 11 weeks
So why is it that I realize now that the wall is not exactly the best of backgrounds? The texture in it is, admittedly, kinda cool but the whole trying to gauge any kind of growth is not going so well due to color and bumpiness. It sort of minimizes the stomach....but then maybe that's not exactly all bad. So there's been definite growth in 2 wks but it's just all really hard to see. Maybe I should change it up a little and try doing it against the inside wall or something. But sweet baby's heart beats and that's all that really matters. So it is that baby grows! Sonogram to find out just who grows within is set for Monday, June 14th. Seems like forever and a day away.
Despite how desperately longed for this baby is, it is always hard to watch everything expand that I have worked so hard at trimming down. Crazy but true. How can one wait so long for this and then have such a hard time watching it change and grow and expand? Even when it's so hard to embrace the changing body I am ever in love and so entirely grateful for a husband that sees beauty in me no matter what and is still desperately in love with every curve of my body. And how I love him and his faith in me to lose it all again after baby arrives and attain every goal I have ever set to run while pregnant and beyond. How I love how much he loves me and sees in me even what I fail to see...believes in me more than anyone else in life does. And how he continues to love the new curves just as he has the 8 times before this.
Despite how desperately longed for this baby is, it is always hard to watch everything expand that I have worked so hard at trimming down. Crazy but true. How can one wait so long for this and then have such a hard time watching it change and grow and expand? Even when it's so hard to embrace the changing body I am ever in love and so entirely grateful for a husband that sees beauty in me no matter what and is still desperately in love with every curve of my body. And how I love him and his faith in me to lose it all again after baby arrives and attain every goal I have ever set to run while pregnant and beyond. How I love how much he loves me and sees in me even what I fail to see...believes in me more than anyone else in life does. And how he continues to love the new curves just as he has the 8 times before this.
2 weeks ago at 9 wks
Today at 11 wks
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
To Run Again
...kind of. The dr was right about one thing...the symptoms of strep were doing quite the job at masking the symptoms of morning sickness. Sooo...here I sit back in the morning sickness boat again. There are some rather good days coming around but then there are the ones that any kind of movement at all is reason to puke. I've never in my life suffered from motion sickness...until now. It would be a good thing if I never suffered from it again. How can the act of sheer movement on dry, firm ground make one sick when you're supposed to be cooking, cleaning and carrying on with life???? How is possible to just merely walk and get sick??? But somehow I manage to.
So....in a heroic effort to make more of myself, get back into some routine of normalcy.....instead of feeling like the lethargic piece of nothingness I have become.....I took off running. And it actually felt pretty good. Though I think it is safe to say at this point that if I ever felt like an elephant prior to today my status of a thudding beast has been undeniably confirmed. To say it was rough going is putting it mildly. But, as always, once I got over the hump it did take on a familiar rhythm to some extent. To say it was ever effortless in the deal is laughable and the level of difficulty has skipped a few notches going straight from difficult to just plain miserable and hard. But...ever the reason I do it to begin with.....I live for the high that comes afterwards. And it is unrivaled. So I run and thud and breathe hard and stay miserable for awhile and then flop down in the yard amidst kids, dogs, cats and chickens and revel in what I can accomplish....and how much faster labor will go and how much better I will look, how much better I will feel. And I revel in the sheer euphoria of just having accomplished it, knowing that I am strong enough to overcome. And I can't help but think that despite the eventually largely rounded self that is sure to come I will be able to maintain some form of health, fitness, strength and toned physique in the deal...if that is possible when one's stomach is protruding 4 ft out from oneself. One can only hope. And if nothing else.....maybe it'll give mental strength for the mind games that come during labor....the "I quit", I can't" and "I'm done with this" moments....because just as I battle all of that in labor I, too, battle it when I run. Running is nothing but preparation and training for all of life. Personally I think it trains the mind to become a habitual overcomer. The transformation takes place within to one that never doubts the ability to overcome because it has been praticed so very many times before. All of the training and mental discipline finally takes shape and manifests during the deepest and most intense of warfare as the overcomer rises to victory.
I will do this...pregnant or not. Physical endurance, mental toughness, inner strength, determination to succeed with grace, dignity and some amount of poise still left....in running, in birth, in life in general. The way I figure it all...one has nothing to lose and everything to gain when it comes to running. So, I've taken the torch back up and will run.....run uphill, downhill and everything in between. I can't help but wonder just how long it's going to take to get back to where I left off at 2 miles. But I face defeat if I let the negativity take hold and grow so once again I begin one step at a time. My journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step...and another....and yet another. Three quarters of a mile....1 mile.....1 and 1/2 miles.....then back to 2. Then on to the 3 mile goal I have set. I may have been temporarily deterred but I will not quit and I refuse to give it all up. I've come too far to just quit. And I refuse to be that one sitting on the couch eating bon bons, cookies and indulging in every craving that takes root over the next few months.
Japanese Yoshino Cherry
But, mental bunny trails....back to running. Based on what I just experienced 2 miles may be awhile in coming. But I'll get there. And once baby comes and I miraculously drop 20 pds in 2 days from the miracle of birth I may just surprise myself and run 4 miles since I became so accustomed to running 2 or 3 with 25-30 lbs of pregnancy on board.
Azalea Formosa
Moving on.....this has absolutely nothing in the world to do with running but is just more of life in general. Somehow we have managed to acquire yet another very nice, well built chicken coop and 8 more hens and 3 more roosters...which brings our poultry count up to 80 something birds in which to expand our chicken love. The dear Baptist preacher neighbor living in the parsonage next door has accepted the offer for a Baptist church in Mason. In his move his chickens, that were actually hatched from our eggs, were to be sold. We took them in and now have chickens and their coops free ranging in 2 different pastures now. Our new 8 hens will become our family's laying chickens so that Grayson is free to sell the rest.
Sugar Maple
Among other news...we ordered 20 free trees from the Arbor Day Foundation. Mother gave a 10.00 donation to receive 10 "free" trees and we gave a 10.00 donation to receive 10 "free" trees. Among the collection we will receive 10 trees specifically for autumn color and 10 for spring color. Among those will be white dogwoods, eastern redbuds, sugar maples, Japanese red maples and on and on. We'll divide them all up so we each end up with 5 each of autumn and spring. Tree climbing boys of our's fell in love with the gigantic 70 to 100 ft Redwood Dawn so we ordered that along with an apple tree and a Japanese Yoshino cherry tree. And then some fuchsia Azaleas to line our front fence with. Supposedly they all do well in our blast furnace of a desert state so we shall see. I also ordered a Zephirine Drouhin thornless rose bush and some purple clematis from Jackson and Perkins. Excitement has overcome our merry little crew. With test studying husband ever absent these days the children I decided it would be a good endeavor to tackle while he remains away. It'll keep us active as we clean flowerbeds, dig holes and live outside in the wind. We would've been a little wiser to have begun this project about 6 weeks ago since the rattlesnakes have already begun to awaken from their hibernating state. But, as with anything when one goes digging around in bushes....exercise caution. Our little twigs of trees will arrive as just that...said from past experience. Years ago grand visions of what would arrive from Arbor Day disappointed as the box was gently opened and there sat 10 bare root sticks....as in...twigs. Those wonderful little miracles were to be our trees. We planted one of the 10 at our old house in the city and it grows to this day....towering above all houses in the area. The older children love driving by it to check on it, remembering the part they played in planting it.
Redwood Dawn
So it is that we set off to garden and I resume running. Trees, bushes and veggies should be among our successes this year. Along with the success of having reached a 3 mile goal.
Zephirine Drouhin climbing rose
I will run. I will dig holes. I will live out in the sun and let the wind blow through my hair. I will experience spring and summer and fall. And we will welcome winter with a new baby. And I will run through it all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
