School Pictures

It is school picture time again. It is in times such as these that I pause to thank the Lord that He saw fit to dig a little deeper into the Jackson end of gene pool when He knit my children together in the womb. No offense, Mom and Dad, you are comely enough looking creatures yourselves, but you had no control over the fact that your third born inherited all the kickback, recessive, jacked up genes from generations of yore. Honestly, I am not bitter. I am not bitter that some of my earliest memories are those of Julie and Charlie telling me I was adopted. From a frog swamp. And I am certainly not bitter that just recently my very own best friend asked me if I used to be Asian when she saw one of my baby pictures. Not even bitter. Only that much more appreciative of the "normality" of my own children.

Would the REAL nun please stand? My own 5^th grade picture was my first thought when Andrew brought his home, even though his is much better. Oddly enough, I remember being pleased with the outcome of this photoshoot back in '83.

I was NOT, however, pleased with this one, not one little bit. It was already a "re-take" because my collar was tucked under on the original and my fastidious mother would have none of that. I didn't think it was so bad. So, my parents were gone away somewhere on re-take day and I was left in the charge of my sister, Julie, who was SUPPOSED to have put my hair in spongey curlers the night before. But she didn't. She assured me that the ringlets she haphazzardly wrapped with a curling iron that morning would stay put long enough to produce a proper portrait. So, yeah. 1980 was a bad year. But the important thing is that I have let it go.

Generations

Four Generations, minus Julia who is at Amy's with Ella for the weekend.

Another Toy Recall

Ponderosa

Our church hosted a Trunk o' Treat last night that was intended to be a community outreach complete with 50 trunks full of treats, a "gospel magic" show every half hour, and cider, donuts, and coffee inside. Oh and a photographer who attends our church offered free portraits inside as well.

Since our church currently meets in a renovated building which happens to be an old Ponderosa restaurant, the theme for the evening was "Ponderosa". We were encouraged to dress ourselves and our vehicles up in keeping with that theme.

There were country/western/cowboy/farmer/hobo-looking folk aplenty, as well as quite a few people who dressed up in random traditional Halloween gear that didn't have anything to do with anything Ponderosa-ish. But there were a couple particularly interesting costumes which reflected a more liberal interpretation of the somewhat vague theme suggestion.

This fellow here had been seemingly quiet and reserved heretofore. Though we have gotten to know him a little better recently in our small group and seen that he has some "flare" if you will, we were shocked and greatly amused to see his inner rockstar unleashed. He came as a member of the fictitious 80's hairband, Ponderosa. Given my love for this era and genre, and my interest in the unusual, I found it difficult to avert my eyes from this sight all night. Somewhat like the fascination of a car wreck, only a little less morbid, of course.


Our pastor chose to come as a T-bone steak, because what could be more Ponderosa than a steak? He was unable to convince Mrs. Pastor to come as a bottle of A-1.

Our family was a mixed bag of makeshift cowboys and cats. Oh, and my mom was there too.

A good time was had by all.

Happy Halloween!

Praise You in This Storm

"Praise You in This Storm"
Casting Crowns

I was sure by now
That You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say "Amen", and it's still raining

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I'll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry
You raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can't find You

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth

Sundee Photos

That's Jeff showing off his leaping skills.
He and Andrew created it as a competitive event
that takes place a couple times a week during dish duty.
He remains the household champion.

Twenty weeks of pregnancy didn't stop Meridith from
trying to beat her brother's record.
She didn't beat him, but her excellent form
did not go unnoticed by the judges.
(Grandchild #15 is on board...shhh, it's a...)

Meridith's competitive daughter, Lexi.

Umm...yeaah. I don't think my feet even left the floor.
But I laughed awfully hard.

Three guesses for who was trying to feed my infant pizza.
(It rhymes with Neridith.)

Probably the only time that a 29 year old mother,
an 18 year old high school senior, and an 11 year old boy
will ever all be making the same birthday wish...

Laughter

One of the things that impressed me first about the Jackson family was their ability to laugh. At each other. At themselves. At life. They are fun people to be around. You never have to worry about what to talk about. There is no social anxiety. They are relaxed and they make you feel relaxed. In my life I have observed few, if any, other families with this unique ability.

At first glance, one could speculate that the only reason they could possibly be this light-hearted is because their lives were easy, that they have never known true sorrow, loss, or disappointment. But after knowing them for 15 1/2 years, I know this has not been the case.

Not including the devastating news of this weekend, they have known heartache, though never to this degree, but heartache nonetheless. They have known brokenness. They have known suffering. They have known hardship. They have known disappointment. Life has not always been ideal. Yet they have remained not bitter, and still able to laugh. And most importantly, they have demonstrated again and again how they will not allow family difficulties to destroy their family spirit.

Friday and Saturday were among the darkest days of my life, and I am just a lowly in-law. I can only imagine the grief that they were feeling. Together we cried more tears than I have seen in all the years I have been a Jackson. Several boxes of tissues were emptied. Shoulders were soaked. At times there was wailing. At times there was silence. At times there was quiet thanksgiving and reflection upon a good, blessing-filled life and what the future might hold. And the tears would fall once again.

But then Sunday came and the family came together with a purpose in true Jackson form. We had some birthdays that needed celebrating and there were to be no tears allowed!

All 24 of us gathered at our house and did what we do best, and not a single tear was shed.

I am proud to be a Jackson.

(Blogger is giving me fits as I try to post some photos of the day. Maybe later.)

Absolutely Bad

I don't have the emotional or physical energy to write out the whole story but....

The alternative treatment in Mexico didn't work.

The cancer not only has not shrunk, but also has grown and invaded new areas, including bones and lymph nodes.

Sharon, who is my mother-in-law as you may recall, has been given months to live.

Yes, I know only God gives and takes away life.

And yes, I know what unlimited faith in an unlimited God brings.

But right now that is not looking like healing.

Please pray for our family. Or at least think of us, if you will.

After explaining a very simplified version of the situation with Kathryn, she said with furrowed brow, "Oh, that is absolutely bad!"

It is, Kathryn. It is.

Things

Things I will miss about having small children at home someday:

• Hearing Andrew pray nightly, “Help our family to make the right choices and become more like You every day.

• Having Julia think I have the coolest “outfits” ever.

• Being able to right all that is wrong in Kathryn’s world with the promise of watching Franklin On-Demand.

• The feeling of David’s soft little hands grasping affectionately at the short hair on the back of my head as if he just can’t get a tight enough hold on me.

Unusual Array

Dear Diary,

Today my mother told me I have an unusual array of skills.

I am thinking this might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

I love me some words of affirmation, even when they include the word "unusual".

TTFN,
Janelle

Almost Famous

Jeff's bottom was on the 5 o'clock news tonight. I am so proud!

Twas not the main feature of the story, but present nevertheless. The whole family gathered around the television set gleefully anticipating the moment Daddy might appear. Finally at the end of the 5 o'clock segment, we saw the outside of his workplace and the company logo and then the face of his boss. Then into the inside of the building, we could see some of his co-workers, and then there was Daddy. No face, just a bottom. I was hoping to have a link to the video clip of his twenty seconds of fame, but so far the website only has the text of the segment.

I am proud, but mostly thankful, for his job and that his employer could be featured as a thriving business owner in the economic climate that is called Michigan, at a time when the words "thriving" and "Michigan" are seldom spoken or written in the same sentence.

I guess the word "thriving" wasn't actually used, but that was the impression anyway.

Hooray for the machining industry in Michigan!

My Other Baby

This week he started riding in the shopping cart without his carseat, holding his own bottle, and wearing Size 3 diapers. Next he'll be tying his own shoes, buckling his own seatbelt, and riding a bike. If I didn't already have ten-D-twelve kids, and not enough sanity and money and time to go around, I'd almost want to have just one more. If only they could stay this small and containable. And quiet. Forever.

Emerging Artist

Andrew was recently asked to be part of an Emerging Artist exhibit at the local art gallery. It was quite an honor as he was one of 5 chosen from his grade level. They got to meet with a photographer, Monte Nagler, for a presentation called Through the Lens and instructions on how to take interesting pictures. They then each received a disposable camera to take home for the weekend to take pictures. On Monday they turned the camera in and the photographer chose his favorite of each of their pictures. The photos were printed and hung on display in the gallery where they will hang for the remainder of the month. Sunday the families were invited for a private viewing of the exhibit. Here was his masterpiece:

Andrew with Mr. Nagler

Today My Firstborn Baby Boy is 11!

Reasons Not to Open the Door to Strangers

1. They might wreck up your lamps and ruin your throw pillows.


2. They might use up all your detangling spray.


3. They might steal your baby.

These were the reasons Kathryn gave when we reviewed the dangers this week. I think she is finally getting it.

We have just returned from her preschool apple orchard field trip where we "such had a swell time!"

(I just noticed the yellow jacket fixin' to dive bomb her head. Luckily it did not. I was almost embarrassed to take any pictures as I did not want to look like the couple of paparazzi-ish parents who had lenses up their children's noses practically trying to document their every reaction. It was ridiculous and I was embarrassed FOR them!)

p.s. Amy was not at this event. =)

Psalm 38:9

"All my longings lie open before you, O Lord;
my sighing is not hidden from you."

Updates for a Girl Named Amy

• There was a girl named Amy. I used her to gain access to a boy named Toby who was a friend of her family's and with whom I was quite smitten. It was rotten of me, but the means justified the end...or the end justified the means. That was 20 years ago this past May. Twenty stinkin' years! Longer than both of our marriages combined. At least that is what she told me today, let me do the math...yes, she was right. We are thinking we might throw ourselves a party or take a cruise for our 25th anniversary.
• FYI: My infatuation with the aforementioned fella was short-lived, but he did prove himself useful years later when by chance (or not?) he happened to be second on the scene of rollover car accident I had been in and got to be the lucky one to notify my family.
  
• Two weeks ago this weekend, Amy and I had a scrapbooking weekend at her house, from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon. Our groovy husbands had all of our kids, mine at home, hers took the children and went to stay with his sister 2 hours away. Our friend Diane was able to join us for part of the time as well. It was wicked fun and just what we all needed. We relaxed, ate lots of good food, giggled like school girls, had very good conversations that included only minimal gossip, and slept in the same bed for the first time in yeeeeeeeears because she no longer snores, hallelujah! Oh, and we both got 20 pages done!
  
• Let's see, what else did she want me to share...
• Oh yes, today we met and drove down to meet baby Adam, son of Liane and Keith, for the first time. He was preciouser than his pictures and I wanted to inhale him. How quickly a mother forgets how tiny and soft and sleepy they are those first few weeks. He was dwarfed by the likes of David and his giant melon head.
  
• Afterward, Amy and I stopped at a huge Salvation Army nearby where she found me the sweetest vintage hook-up ever, but sadly I didn't have $157 to purchase all the pieces, nor did she. Of course I am exaggerating, but their prices were outrageous! Anyway, it was a crispy (and I mean CRIS-PY) brand new pair of authentic, dark wash Jordache jeans, complete with creases pressed down the legs, horsehead on the coin pocket up front, little metal tag on the other front pocket, the burgundy patch on the hock pocket, and white decorative top-stitching by the yard. A pair of denhim slacks just such as these had been the object of my fixation in the 4th grade. If I could have owned a pair, even if I never wore them, the course of my life very well may have been altered and drastically. But as if that were not enough, she also found a pair of hot pink and chartreuse Kangaroo sneakers, also the love of '82-'83 school year, though I was fortunate enough to own a conservative and sneaky pair of gray ones myself back in the day. Anyway, we had yet another good laugh as we were reminded that we are both hopeless dorks, but that we both get each other's humor...among many other things.
• Oh and this morning at 7:21 she called to see if I wanted her to pack me a lunch so we didn't have to spend money on unhealthy food out. And once on the road she offered me one of her cold water bottles so I didn't have to drink the hot one I had brought for myself. She also offered me the heel of her sandwich that she was too full to eat. I accepted the former, gratefully, but declined the latter.
• She did tell me my van smelled like curry powder, but I love this girl called Amy and I hope we can be friends for at least another 20 years.

• 

Celebrity Schelebrity

I gave in and gave it a try in the wee hours of this morn at Amy's.

I had already scrubbed up for the night and had my hair up in a clip when I snapped a quick photo for my first attempt.

After my #1 look-alike came up as O.J. Simpson, and I am not even joking, I decided to re-apply some rouge real quick-like to brighten my countenance and give it another try.

I never realized how much I do resemble Keith Urban.

Click here to view the foolishness.

For the Record

I never did stick a fork in my eye. Not last year, and not last month.

Tomorrow did come and it was a better day.

My mom was right.

ADD

I seem to be suffering from an unusually long and bad bout of attention deficit disorder these days. School starting has been a breath of fresh air, but it has also broken my day into 25 minute blocks that have exacerbated my condition (ADD) greatly in some ways. I feel like I am doing approximately 47 things at the same time and always only have 7 minutes till I need to be out the door and on my way to the next thing...picking up, dropping off, meeting here, taking there...and my kids are still young. I shutter to think how much worse it will get before it gets better.

But I love it.

I find I am more productive with more time constraints and deadlines. And I love being available for my children. Most days.

I would love to make a blog post again someday as well. I have not been lacking topics to cover, only the time and the ability to sit still long enough to get them out of my tired head and onto the computer screen. And I need a new computer. Badly. Oh so badly.

So this is my update for now. We are doing well. Jeff's mom is home, encouraged, and improving. I will post more on that as soon as possible. Thank you all for your prayers and thoughts.

And here is David's latest discovery...

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.

Another One Bites the Dust

No riveting tale of the hunt, but I snagged another one in the night. I will allow Jeff the pleasure of disposing of it when he gets home from work. I expect there will be more.

Happy Saturday! =)

Diary of a Mouse Slayer

Oh boy!

It happened again.

In the absence of my manly protection this weekend, I was forced to rise to the occasion and defend my household.

It started out like any other day. I was painting my deck railing, enjoying the exceptionally beautiful day, keeping an ear on David sleeping in the house, while keeping a watchful eye on Kathryn as she frolicked about the yard still in her pajamas and yesterday's ponytails, when suddenly my peripheral mother eyes detected some scurrying activity in the garage.

Aware that there had been a mouse sighting as recently as a couple of weeks ago, as well as evidence of its ongoing presence, I stepped cautiously just inside the garage door expecting it to retreat into one of its many hidden fortresses. But no. No, it did not. It brazenly walked, not ran, to the general vicinity of the steps leading into the house. I would even go so far as to say it STRUTTED, and slowly. It was as if he was taunting me. I might have been able to snatch him with my bare hand if I would have gathered the courage. But I did not. Eventually he did dart from view. I quickly opened a few container's of D-Con, not that it was a quick attack resulting in immediate extermination, but I was thinking I should have put it out a couple weeks ago anyway. As an after thought, I laid out a couple of my sticky traps real strategical-like and went back to work.

I checked back a couple times and found nothing. AND THEN...I got him!

He was quite frantic and quite stuck, and I wondered what kind of sick person I was that this sight filled me with such a sense of jubilation. Probably the same kind of sick person who had the idea of setting him out in the driveway to be finished off by a creature of the sky so that she would not have to think of a more creative and successful method herself. I already had plans for my day and limited time before my boy woke up. Plus, I thought it might be sort of neat to see if the bird got stuck to the sticky trap too. But that only lasted a couple of minutes before the guilt overtook me. There was no need to torture him any further.

So I resorted to my tried and true method of mouse annihilation. I triple WalMart bagged him right up and placed him behind the wheel of Jeff's truck.

And it was finished.

Backward.

Forward.

Trash can out back.

Done.

Back to work.

The deck is all first-coated and half of it is second-coated, and I didn't see any more mice the rest of the day.

The End.

Traveling Light

Ask me to pack a suitcase, and "traveling light" simply does not compute. But, take away half of my kids for the weekend and you are speaking my language. Wahooo!

I find it almost amusing to see how much my perspective has changed with the adding of each arrow to my quiver. Once was the day I was stressed out to the maximus by the duties and interruptions of having just one child. I cringed at the thought of taking him with me to my doctor or dentist appointments. I attempted very little in the way of, well...anything, such has house projects or commitments outside the home of any kind. I had only a couple friends who also had only one child and we would get together often and talk about who knows what all afternoon. Really important stuff, I am sure. Like, how much we had calculated the cost of Huggies and Pampers wipes to be per wipe and which scent of bath wash we liked best. Whether we used liquid fabric softener or dryer sheets, and why we thought it was very important for babies to always wear shoes. Deeper topics of conversation might include how long we pushed during labor and whether we said any swear words or defecated during said phase, and whether we would send our fall birthday infants to Early 5's or straight to kindergarten in five years. I had no hobbies. How could I? What with all my socializing and rigorous personal napping schedule. I was the mother of a small child and I was tired. Who could expect any more of me?

In some ways nothing has changed. I am still tired. And I still love my naps, though they are much fewer and farther between. I still find myself overwhelmed frequently. And why wouldn't I? Having four children is a lot like having one, only there are three more of them.

But yesterday as I breastfed David while getting my teeth cleaned, and while my other three preciouses waited in the waiting room unattended after going garage saling all morning with all four of them, I had a little time to think about what HAS changed. Not just that I now use WalMart brand wipes and I have no idea how much they cost or that it has been months since I have spent time with friends. I pondered how much my adaptation and survival skills had evolved and wondered when this process had taken place. When I had I been able to start doing more with less time and energy? When had I decided it was better to just get up and go and do, with all my 40-12 kids in tow, than to lock myself and them away in the prison of my own home and failed expectations with my lengthy to-do list and the ever-fleeting hope of a nap hanging over head?! I couldn't remember.

Julia left yesterday afternoon for a trip with Amy and family, and Jeff and Andrew are going on a boys-only outing, leaving me with only two, albeit the highest-maintenance two, for the weekend. While it is still one more than I had when I was too consumed and distracted by my one not-even-very demanding child to be of much use in an any other capacity, it seems like quite a vacation. I have already been planning all the projects I will accomplish and all the quiet time I will enjoy in their absence. I am getting my hair colored tonight and I am going to cook some adult food for only me. I might rent a movie, or better yet, read a book...with WORDS.

I still use liquid fabric softener, except for on the days I don't. And I still enjoy the scent of Baby Magic, though I have found that in a pinch dish soap works and smells just fine too. But the best part of what has changed is that having four children means that having only two of them for the weekend means a 50% reduction and that is traveling very darn light!

Gerbie Eats Cereal

All of my babies have been affectionately called "Gerbie" (short of "Gerber") by Aunt Meridith. Last night Gerbie David had cereal for the first time and absolutely could not get enough of it. Nary a drop was wasted. He was not, however, fond of the prune juice I attempted to wash it down with.

Seven, Slowly But Surely

I remember my 7th birthday, where has the time gone? As was the custom in that day, we usually spent it traveling to New Hampshire to bring in the New Year on our knees. Because we couldn't do that in Michigan. Everybody knows God doesn't hear prayers from Michigan, only those from the base of Mt. Monadnock. It's because we say "pop" and "aunt" which rhymes with "pant" instead of "jaunt". God doesn't like those words. =)

Anyway, for some reason Brenda Wargo was along with us and I remember feeling quite mature and worthy of riding in the company of one so classy and cool when she told me I was "growing up slowly, but surely".

Now my secondborn is 7 and is growing up just as surely, but way too
quickly...

Monkey Biz-nass

Okay, a new post. Yeaaaah. Let's see...

After a week and a half of being "health-conscious" I had to splurge. It is unnatural to be good all the time. All we like sheep have gone astray. I love my sweets and I need my bread. So I last night I whooped up some Monkey Bread to enjoy this morning after rising to perfection and soaking in sugar and fat all night. That would be the bread dough, not myself. Oh boy!

For any fellow fat and carb lovers, the night before you just put 15 frozen dinner rolls in a well-greased bundt pan then mix together 1 stick of melted butter, 1 cup of brown sugar, 1 teaspoon (or to taste) of cinnamon, and 1 package of regular (NOT INSTANT) butterscotch pudding mix and pour it over the rolls. Leave them to sit out and rise overnight, uncovered. Bake in the morning at 350*. This part's a little sketchy because I don't have a real recipe, it's a word-of-mouth thing. I think it ended up being around 25 minutes, but I covered them with foil part way through because the tops were getting too brown. When done, remove from oven and let them cool a couple of minutes, then invert on a large serving platter. Allow them to cool a little more, then gobble them up before the rest of your family wakes up.

I have had a good week. I just want to share that for all those who read and are accustomed to my complaining about this, that, and the other thing. I have felt good physically, I have been productive, and I am almost scared to say lest I jinx myself...(shhh, lean a little closer)...I see dead people. =) No, really, I was going to say I feel happy.

(Whoa, that was wicked personal...now I feel all exposed!)

So, I pressure washed my front porch last Friday and Saturday for about 8 hours. It is amazing that water alone can make that much difference. It could look even better with a little more skill and time, but that is as much as I have to give it for now and it was a HUGE improvement. I intend to stain the decking and have already started painting the posts, railings, and spindles white. I love it. Presently it is a very weathered-looking and shoddily applied used-to-be-white. I have also picked a rusty red color called Sly Fox to paint my front door and shutters. Presently the front door is factory primed and I have no shutters. Hooray for color and inexpensive home improvements!

Hey, mom's! An inexpensive craft to dazzle your bored children this summer: FABRIC CRAYONS. Get them. Use them. You just have them draw a picture on a regular sheet of paper with the crayons and then iron them on an item of your choosing following the directions on the package. We did pillowcases for J's birthday this week and you would have thought I brought home a Shetland pony.

Has anyone seen Ratatouille yet? We saw it for J's birthday. Loved it. Makes me only mildly less freaked out to discover some suspicious droppings under my Lazy Susan. I'd be honored to think my kitchen was being used as a training ground for an aspiring chef. =) Not really. I am thoroughly freaked out!

Hey, what do other people keep in that little short cupboard above their refrigerators? I really want to know, please share...

Dedicated

David's Dedication ~ June 24, 2007 ~ 3 Months Old

(I am not crying and Jeff is not stoned...this is just the only closer up of David on his special day.)

(Both sets of grandparents were invited to join in...)

(These are Jeff's parents on the right, just 4 weeks post-triple bypass surgery for his Dad and 5 days post-esophageal cancer diagnosis for his Mom. Please pray for our family.)

2001

A while ago Julia was in the baby's room visiting with me while I fed him or something. To busy herself she began straightening his growing collection of stuffed animals and asking me who had given him each one. When she came to a handsome pair of Snoopy's, I cautioned her to treat them with extra care since they were both "very old". I explained that one of them was a gift for my 5th birthday, how I had dearly loved Snoopy as a youngster, how that love had been one of the reasons I had chosen to do the baby's nursery in Snoopy, and that he was one of the only toys that I still had from childhood. I told her I had received the other one for my 10th birthday which was "a long, long time ago". I could see her taking it all in, feeling privileged to be in the know, and then she asked, "Was that in like 2001 or 2002?"

St. Grandma

What do you do to celebrate your birthday when you are 85 and Catholic? You grab your best good St. Mary and head to the local horse racing track, of course. =)

God bless Jeff's grandmother:

Mother of 15 (+3 pregnancy losses and 1 infant loss...that makes 19!)
Grandmother of 53
Great Grandmother of 79
Great Great Grandmother of 4 with 1 more on the way

This is an amazing woman. As she becomes more confused in her old age, she still calls most of her children by their first and middle names and remembers all of their birth weights. Lay it 3-1 odds, that alone qualifies any woman for sainthood in my book.

Happy Birthday, Grandma!

Lift Your Voice

Kathryn singing as she rides the stationary bicycle next to me:

"Lift your voice like the lowly Jesus, no not one, no not one..."

The words to "Days of Elijah" frequently find themselves where they don't belong.

Hmmm.

Three Things

Three things I miss about living in the country...

1. The little bitty rural post office that had exactly 3 parking spaces where I could safely leave my children in the vehicle without fear of abduction, or of being turned in to Child Protective Services.
2. Being able to water my flowers in my sleep attire. My neighbor is usually applying the daily finishing coat of Turtle Wax to his Jimmy or fertilizing his lawn by the time I make it out for the morning watering. At dusk, he is feather dusting the Jimmy and planting more grass seed. Yes, he's retired. And about the nicest man you'd ever want to meet so maybe it's a fair trade-off for my dead flowers.
   
3. Being able to use a baby monitor without feeling like I am training for a career in espionage. Sheesh! I am always hearing other people's stuff, unfortunately nothing very interesting, unlike when we lived in an apartment and could hear neighbor's conversations on our cordless phone. The other day I could hear hymns playing. Funny thing is that I am not aware of any peoples on our street who have babies or who are church-going folk. So how far away does this monitor pick up? And can they also hear our not-so-very-interesting conversations?

That's all I miss. I hardly live in the center of a hustling bustling city now, you'd laugh if you saw it and knew I was calling it "not the country", but it works for me and I love it! Almost everywhere I go is 3 miles or less away so I have lots more time and energy to blog and not water my flowers.

Do NOT have a happy birthday!

Yesterday was Jeff's birthday and I could not resist snatching up this over-priced talking card just to hear Michael's voice say again and again...


"Reverse psychology is an awesome tool. I don't know if you guys know about it, but basically you make someone think the opposite of what you believe and that tricks them into doing something stupid. Works like a charm!"

Who could resist that?

And it did work like a charm. I tricked him right into having a happy birthday anyway!

Smiley Eyes

Because I haven't posted a photo of the boy in a while...

He's closing in on 12 weeks on Saturday. I believe it is after this milestone that parents usually stop referring to the age of their infants in weeks and begin marking the passage of time in months.
How ever you mark it, it passes too quickly.

Rosa

My son Andrew is a quietly funny boy, not unlike his father. A touch dry, but richly witty, they never miss a chance to interject humor into the otherwise mundane routine of life, without ever drawing much attention to themselves in so doing. Often those outside of their immediate surroundings miss the punchline altogether.

My brother met my husband before I did and came home late one evening to report that he had met the man I was going to marry. When pressed for an explanation, I don't remember much he offered aside from the fact that he had been in the Army and that he was funny..."a Johnny S. in the making" said he. (I assume everyone knows which Johnny I mean, but ask me if you don't.) I was undazzled by his veteran experience, but as for the humor, I knew exactly what he was talking about as soon as I met him a few weeks later. And I knew right then and there I wanted him to father all of my funny children. Okay, not really, but it was truly impressive. He still puts me to shame even on an off day.

All this to say that last night the girls wanted to set up TV trays to doodle upon whilst watching television on the couch. Julia was able to set hers up and get rolling on her own, but Kathryn asked and asked and asked for someone to help her. I was busy with the baby so I asked Andrew to please get her a TV tray. Obediently, he hopped to retrieve it and returned to set it up for her in the very spot he had already been comfortably sitting in. Ever so quietly he said, "I'm giving up my seat...unlike Rosa Parks."

Okay, maybe it's only funny to his mother, but it just struck me so funny and made me thankful that 1) he was paying attention in 4th grade Social Studies and 2) that one of our children has been blessed with a sense of humor...either you got it or you don't...we can spend half an hour telling one of our other children why something is supposed to be funny and she'll still ask with much bewilderment, "But why did you say that?"

Yes, my blog is almost exclusively about my children. And no, I have not lost my identity entirely. If you don't enjoy it, the door is right over there. Thank you, come again! =)

Shortcut

Three things in life are certain: Death. Taxes. This.
And that pride cometh before a fall.
This was but one of the valuable life lessons I learned last week.
I had always prided myself in the fact that THIS had never happened.
Now it has and don't you think it won't happen to you.

No Scab Left Unpicked

It doesn't seem this picture needs further explanation, but feel free to inquire if you can't get what Kathryn's latest obsession is.
Heaven help us!

Tag

Apparently I have been tagged by not one, but two people. I'm not sure I get it, but here goes...this is for Loreo and Auntie Hesper.

7 Lesser Known Facts About Me

1. I have six fillings.
2. I have never been able to hula hoop.
3. I hated the beloved movie Titanic.
   
4. I voted for Clinton in '96.
   
5. I sneaked to wear "slacks" in 1st grade.
   
6. I frequently sneak treats into the dark bathroom to avoid sharing with my family.
   
7. I am considering starting a support group called Sneakers Anonymous.
   

6 Weeks

Day at the Lake

Yesterday we spent the afternoon traveling the shore of Lake Huron checking out a new spot to camp for Fourth of July this year. It's gonna be a good one!

And once again, David slept through all the fun.

Ode to the Mama and the Papa

Before I am accused of plagiarism by someone whose name sounds a lot like...umm...Leaf Haxwell, I will say these words below are NOT mine. They are those of a country singer named Tracy Lawrence, if he even wrote them himself, but he sings them on his album called For the Love.

I had just recently heard this song, Find Out Who Your Friends Are, and had just told Jeff about it two weeks ago today, the day before David got sick and I called my Mom in the twilight hours of Sunday to come to our rescue. I had told him that it made me think of my parents and their friendship and ministry to us...and to the rest of their family...and to the rest of everyone they know, including many of you who read my blog and so I wanted to share the lyrics with you. If I were a little more techy I might figure out how to link it to the actual song for you to listen to, but this will have to do for now.

The words that stand out most to me are "Never stop to think 'what's in it for me?' or 'it's way too far,' they just show on up with their big old hearts".

I love them and strive to be like them in this way. I am blessed with the love and support of many friends and other family members and I mean no disrespect to them by praising my parents in this way, but I just want to recognize them and acknowledge to the world how many times they have dropped everything to be a "big blessing" to me, to my family, and to many others. My Mom came at a moment's notice to care for my children and altered her schedule to accommodate theirs for the next few days. My Dad babysat Kathryn while the older children were at school and my Mom was at work, not only for the days we were at the hospital, but one more night and another morning after we were home so I could get some rest and take David to a follow up appointment without Kathryn in tow.

So without further adieu, here are the lyrics, and for the record, I have actually run my car off the side of the road AND gotten stuck in a ditch way out in the middle of nowhere...

FIND OUT WHO YOUR FRIENDS ARE

Run your car off the side of the road
Get stuck in a ditch way out in the middle of nowhere
Get yourself in a bind lose the shirt off your back
Need a floor need a couch need a bus fare

This is where the rubber meets the road
This is where the cream is gonna rise
This is what you really didn't know
This is where the truth don't lie

You find out who you're friends are
Somebody's gonna drop everything
Run out and crank up their car
Hit the gas get there fast
Never stop to think 'what's in it for me' or 'it's way too far'
They just show on up with their big old heart
You find out who you're friends are

Everybody wants to slap your back
Wants to shake your hand
When you're up on top of that mountain
But let one of those rocks give way then you slide back down look up
and see who's around then

This ain't where the road comes to an end
This ain't where the bandwagon stops
This is just one of those times when
A lot of folks jump off

When the water's high
When the weather's not so fair
When the well runs dry
Who's gonna be there

PICU

Two weeks ago David had a short, but somewhat scary stay in the local pediatric intensive care unit due to a high fever of unknown origin. After all night of screaming inconsolably, and after saying many prayers for his comfort AND for our sanity, I thought to take his temperature. It wasn't high by my veteran mother standards, but I suspected at his age it was considered a medical emergency. A 5 a.m. call to the pediatrician confirmed that we needed to get him to the emergency room STAT. We called my Mom who came right away to stay with the other children and we quickly packed up and sped off to the ER. We got to cut to the ahead of the line due to his age (and his volume) and he was admitted almost immediately after being evaluated. He had to endure a battery of tests, including a spinal tap, to rule out septic infection. Fortunately, they all came back with favorable results, though he was treated the same as if he had anthrax as a preventive measure. Not really, of course, but they did take it very seriously, as well they should have. He was in isolation for the first 36 hours and was on two IV antibiotics and fluid IVs for 48+ hours. He responded quickly, and thankfully that was the end of that. He got to come home before spending a third night. He has made a full recovery and is thriving. His weight at the time he was discharged showed a gain of just one ounce less than two pounds over his birth weight, and he had grown an inch and a half.

Lots has happened since then. I wish I had time to write more. Not only for the reading pleasure of my many, MANY (tee hee) fans, but also because the time is passing so quickly and this was supposed to be a kind of a journal to document my days of parenting for my own benefit and record...as in a journal...as in entries which are posted daily, or weekly, or even bi-weekly...yeah, I'm going to work on that along with maybe one or two other shortcomings I have.