Forks and Crap

About a year ago I wrote a post about wanting to stick a fork in my eye. I would link this post to that one, but I'm too tired. It has been another one of those days. Jeff is out making an ice cream run for me while I cook up some hot fudge. To heck with healthy choices. A good helping or two, or three, should put things right into perspective.

And tomorrow's another day. That is one piece of my mother's advice which has endured the test of time and one which I actually live by. Daily. Selah.

Rise and Shine

More morning Bible reading, please!

Lightening Up

It is okay if your son whose hair you first had trimmed at three weeks of age and you have continued to groom obsessively and often now wants to grow it long. Over his ears even. It is okay.

It is okay if he doesn't think the super fast running shoes that you think would be the ideal school shoes are cool. For three years in a row.

It is okay if your daughters whose hair is finally long enough to braid and wear in a variety of cute accessories now both want Dorothy Hamil do's right before school starts.

It is okay to let your older daughter pack her own suitcase from time to time.

It is okay if your smaller daughter, out of a closet full of darling garments, chooses to wear a large t-shirt so long it covers her shorts, with socks, with Crocs (fake black ones), out for a day of shopping with her hair clean and combed, but down.

It probably not very nice, but it is also okay if your son tells her she looks like she doesn't belong in our family on said outing.

These are lessons I have learned lately.

Small, but huge. Let kids be kids. Let them be themselves. Let them make some decisions and live with them.

And above all...lighten the heck UP!

Passing the Buck

A dollar just doesn't go as far as it used to.

Bedtime is still stressful around this house. Andrew has gotten worlds easier, FINALLY, especially after we moved to this house. Kathryn never was difficult. Most nights, once she is actually IN bed, she falls to sleep within minutes and almost NEVER gets up or complains about anything. David is a baby, so he poses baby-like challenges, but he is manageable more than the majority of the time. Hmm, that leaves just one. And her name isn't Jeff. Sheesh.

I love this girl, but DANG she can be difficult, and I guess in this way she is her mother's daughter. Nothing is ever quite right. The temperature, the direction of the fan, the direction of the wind, the music, the lunar activity...I said prayers while standing on the bunk ladder when she wanted me to be lying down with her. I didn't kiss her. I didn't look at her when I kissed her. She didn't want a kiss, but I kissed her anyway. I left the room without officially saying "goodnight" in the proper tone of voice.

Okay, it isn't ALWAYS that bad and I don't mean to imply that I always strive to meet her every demand at bedtime either. Lots of times they go ignored entirely. But one common demand, or at least request, is that she sleep somewhere other than her own bed. She is very creative and persuasive in her arguments almost every single night of the week. And every night she asks, the answer is the same. Why won't she just give up?

So last night she still had a half hour until her designated time, but I began mentally preparing her, trying to face most of the obstacles before actually entering her bedroom. I don't usually resort to bribery tactics, but in desperation I suggested that if she would consistently go to bed without complaining, specifically NOT asking to sleep anywhere but in her bed, for seven consecutive nights I would give her a dollar.

Her first response was, "Why would you give me free money when you are always saying you don't have enough of it? That doesn't make ANY sense!"

I explained that I would be delighted to cough up a buck if she would comply with my request, but that there would be no bonus after the introductory offer. I told her it was just a challenge to see if she could really do it. I thought this might entice her.

Her next argument was, "What if Andrew and Kathryn find out about it and get upset that they aren't getting a dollar too?" I softly assured her it would be our secret.

She pondered the proposal briefly before her face lit up and she began to whisper back the details as if to go over the fine print before signing her name on the dotted line.

"So, if I go to bed without complaining...for a whole week...you will give me one dollar...and you won't tell Andrew OR Kathryn?" Her eyes sparkled.

"Yes!!!!!" I whispered.

"I don't want to do that though," she murmured with a frown.

"WHY NOT?!" I asked out loud.

"Because that is for SEVEN nights and it is for just ONE dollar."

I briefly considered upping the ante just to see how much she WOULD be willing to do it for, but I did not.

What kind of world do we live in where a 7 year old can't be bribed with a buck any more?

We'll keep working on it.

With no cash incentives.

And shame be upon me for even attempting to buy her good behavior.

Negative Deficit

When you are lacking time and imagination to draft a new post for your stale, moldy blog, but you aren't quite ready to throw it out with last week's pitas, you can always resort to dissing some old geezer from yesteryear.

Yesterday I heard the name "Abba Data", the name of a networking firm in the area, and my thoughts returned to the days when I served as a trustee representing my township on the district library board. Oh those grand and glorious wonder years, oh to be 25 again. Actually, I was more like 27-29, but anyway...

I could have written a book, or a least an entire blog, on the characters that represented the other 5 rural townships and the actual village in which the library was located. Holy smokes. First of all, the median age of the board members was 127. And I wouldn't be surprised if a couple of the members had never left the state of Michigan. In fairness, there were a couple sharper individuals as well. One was the wife of the town dentist and the other was a high school English teacher. Regardless, the meetings were long and intense. Far too intense for a library that serviced fewer than 1500 card-holding patrons per year. But the budget was tight, if not completely blown most months, so we were constantly reviewing expenses and proposing new ways to save money without limiting services.

Should the pages have to clock out to use the toilet? Should they receive a 5 cent raise, or no raise at all this year? Could the library save money by offering dial-up internet service rather than highspeed? And why was it even necessary to offer computer usage in the first place?

Abba Data might have been able to offer some helpful cost-saving solutions if anyone on the board could have pronounced it properly. Abba Dabba is how it came out most of the time, especially from the lips of the elderly interim chairperson who we will call "Ron", not to protect his identity, but because I can't rightly recollect his real name. He would say the funniest things. I wish I could remember more.

Anyhoo, in one heated discussion he pounded the table emphatically stating that this library could not continue operating on a negative deficit. =)

And it didn't have to. One of the main objectives while I was on board was to pass a tax millage increase to generate more funding for operational expenses as well as a brand new facility. It passed by a wide margin the summer after my term expired and the project was completed the summer before we moved from the area.

Oh, I just remembered his name was Dan.

Hungry

You know it is time limit the television consumption of your four year old when she tells you she is "hungry to watch TV" and upon request for clarification you realize she did actually literally mean she was hungering for more television.

Update

Friday's appointment to the oncologist brought the news we were all dreading, but were somewhat prepared to hear: Six to twelve months, with chemotherapy...Six to twelve months, without.

The cancer which just six weeks earlier was "caught early" and was "very operable" was in fact not either of the above. It has apparently been aggressively and viciously advancing, silently, for who knows how long. She first experienced difficulty swallowing and an odd sensation in her chest at the end of April. She saw her doctor in early May. Some other tests were done first to rule out her thyroid, before proceeding with GI testing which led to the discovery of the suspicious growth in her esophagus in mid-June. Days later it was determined to be cancerous. The rest of the time since has been spent getting tests needed in preparation for her upcoming treatment and surgery. And waiting. And waiting. Those of you who are at all familiar with this process know, far better than we could have ever imagined, that this is the name of the game. Waiting for this test to be done, waiting for those results to take to the next appointment which won't be tomorrow, but 2 weeks from tomorrow, to know what the next step MIGHT be.

She had been counting down the days, 16 of them to be exact, until her surgical consultation, which was then just a day away, when she received a phone call saying that she did not need to come to that appointment because there wasn't going to be any surgery. Her latest test results showed her cancer to be inoperable. It had gone from Stage III to IV with the discovery that it had spread to her stomach, to her liver, to a single rib, and to distant lymph nodes.

This was last Wednesday. Friday she saw the oncologist. Sunday she and Jeff's dad flew to San Diego. Monday they crossed the border and are currently in Mexico where she will be receiving treatment at a biomedical hospital for the next three weeks.

They feel cautiously optimistic and encouraged and we already have wonderful stories to tell of support from strangers and answers to prayer.

Thank you for those of you who have offered them on her behalf and on the behalf of our family.
Please don't stop. And I'll keep you posted.

Hear My Cry, O Lord...

This isn't about mice. And it isn't about my children. It's about my mother-in-law.

It was dreadful enough to hear the C word in the same sentence with our loved one for the first time six weeks ago. That would be cancer, esophageal cancer to be exact. The initial report was optimistic, but the reality of the findings since has not been consistent with that hope. Each doctor visit and test result has yielded worse results than the last until, just today, we arrived at nearly the worst case scenario.

Naturally speaking, there is not much reason for hope.

If you are not inclined to pray for divine healing, please pray for comfort, and patience, and wisdom, and peace as life and death decisions are made and we all await the outcome of those decisions.

Her name is Sharon. She is 61. She has 5 children and 14 grandchildren. I am married to her only son. I love her and I want her to live.