I have reached the age where shoes matter. Not so much for fashion purposes, but for supporting my achy breaky hooves. And back. For years Jeff has been warning me that all my flip-flop and casual archless slip-on shoe wearing would eventually catch up with me. I have not disagreed, but also have not taken appropriate measures to prevent this from happening. And well, now that I am getting on in years, it is happening.
Our house has been a shoe-free zone since we got married. It was a foreign concept to me and it took me a while to acclimate to this Jackson custom, but it works for our family and I reap the benefits, most days, except for on especially productive days when I actually STAY on my feet all day. Lately I have spent some long days in the kitchen in my stocking feet and they just can't take it any more. Later the same night, but especially the next morning, I struggle to walk. My tarsals ache, my ankles ache...my dogs are barkin'! Owwww!
So I went shopping this week and bought some new boy kickers, as my sister would say, after Jeff threatened to have the real-live horseshoer who attends our small group fashion me some proper shoes.
Among other things, I did find some nice SLIP-ON sneakers that are very comfy and cushiony and archy. I am just not a sneaker wearing kind of girl, but I bought them to only wear around the house, which has NOT gone unnoticed by my second generation no-shoes-in-the-house children, I might add.
So when I picked the kids up from the bus that afternoon in my snow boots and we came back home, Andrew spotted my new shoes sitting by the door and asked, "Whose orthopedic shoes?"
I don't know if I will be able to survive having a sarcastic pre-teen in the house. It's like looking in the mirror. For all those who are reading and knew me in my younger years and longed for the day my time would come, IT HAS COME! Not only do I have to deal with the likes of my very own mini-me, daily, I also have to wear orthopedic shoes. Sweet vengeance is upon me.
The next morning he asked me, "So, are you still so psyched about your new orthopedic shoes?"
Yes, I am.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Love Thy Neighbor
So last Tuesday I was driving back from printing the funeral program folders at our church. It was just the day after Sharon had died. I had a lot on my mind. Obviously. I was still mentally editing and rehearsing the eulogy, and had not yet finished the slideshow. I was on my way home to receive a meal from one our church's small groups which I needed to deliver to my father-in-law's house. We still had hundreds of folders to fold. And then I needed to drive about 30 minutes north to pick up my kids from my mom and dad's house, bring them home, take Andrew to get a haircut, look for a suit jacket for him, and still had to confirm childcare arrangements for the following day. And grocery shop. I had a lot of my mind. Not to mention I was grief-stricken and exhausted.
So I was sitting at a stoplight about a mile from my house. Front of the line.
And the light turned green.
And yeah, I guess I was just a little too lost in thought because I didn't take off promptly
enough for SOMEONE'S liking.
A burgundy minivan came FLYING up from about 3 or 4 cars back, could have been further, it was a blur, and passed me on the right.
I remember seeing a pasty complexioned hand, and a middle finger gesturing in my direction, before it swerved in front of me and slammed on the brake.
Hard.
Harder than any other such time anyone has ever tried to teach me a lesson.
I slammed on mine. Dishes from the back came flying forward.
I honked my horn.
Loudly. And longly.
So the pasty handed, minivan driving ASS did it AGAIN.
And I had to brake even harder. I think they even squealed a little.
I was livid beyond description.
I could see red. Seriously. I felt almost homicidal.
I fumbled for my phone to call 911 (on the minivan driver, not myself) but soon found that the license plate was too dirty to make out the numbers.
It continued to drive painfully slowly in front of me. I purposely lagged way behind. I was relieved to see my turn come into view. I put on my blinker to get in the turn lane, but at the last minute the van also swerved into the turn lane. The street to my subdivision is just after
said turn. I was reluctant to put on my blinker, lest it too would turn into my subdivision. I simply could not tolerate being provoked any further without harming someone. Sure enough as I was slowing to turn, it too slowed and turned into my subdivision.
GREAT!
So I went past my street and turned on the next one to come into the sub the back way, strategizing my plan of attack if the need should arise. I half expected it to be waiting for me when I got to the end of the street.
And it was.
PARKED IN ITS GARAGE!
It was someone from my own stupid neighborhood. I have talked to them before. I have gone to their garage sale for years, even before moving there, and they have come to mine. I wave to them a couple times a week.
I could not believe it.
The driver was nowhere to be seen so I still don't know if it was the mom or the teenage son. I know it wasn't the dad as I had just seen him in town.
It took all that was within me to stop myself from going up to the door to "apologize" for my wrongdoing and to let them know I was their neighbor. Their grieving neighbor. Even after I went home, I considered going back down there just to let them know who I was.
But I did not.
I had way too much to do to waste time killing anyone that day.
So I was sitting at a stoplight about a mile from my house. Front of the line.
And the light turned green.
And yeah, I guess I was just a little too lost in thought because I didn't take off promptly
enough for SOMEONE'S liking.
A burgundy minivan came FLYING up from about 3 or 4 cars back, could have been further, it was a blur, and passed me on the right.
I remember seeing a pasty complexioned hand, and a middle finger gesturing in my direction, before it swerved in front of me and slammed on the brake.
Hard.
Harder than any other such time anyone has ever tried to teach me a lesson.
I slammed on mine. Dishes from the back came flying forward.
I honked my horn.
Loudly. And longly.
So the pasty handed, minivan driving ASS did it AGAIN.
And I had to brake even harder. I think they even squealed a little.
I was livid beyond description.
I could see red. Seriously. I felt almost homicidal.
I fumbled for my phone to call 911 (on the minivan driver, not myself) but soon found that the license plate was too dirty to make out the numbers.
It continued to drive painfully slowly in front of me. I purposely lagged way behind. I was relieved to see my turn come into view. I put on my blinker to get in the turn lane, but at the last minute the van also swerved into the turn lane. The street to my subdivision is just after
said turn. I was reluctant to put on my blinker, lest it too would turn into my subdivision. I simply could not tolerate being provoked any further without harming someone. Sure enough as I was slowing to turn, it too slowed and turned into my subdivision.
GREAT!
So I went past my street and turned on the next one to come into the sub the back way, strategizing my plan of attack if the need should arise. I half expected it to be waiting for me when I got to the end of the street.
And it was.
PARKED IN ITS GARAGE!
It was someone from my own stupid neighborhood. I have talked to them before. I have gone to their garage sale for years, even before moving there, and they have come to mine. I wave to them a couple times a week.
I could not believe it.
The driver was nowhere to be seen so I still don't know if it was the mom or the teenage son. I know it wasn't the dad as I had just seen him in town.
It took all that was within me to stop myself from going up to the door to "apologize" for my wrongdoing and to let them know I was their neighbor. Their grieving neighbor. Even after I went home, I considered going back down there just to let them know who I was.
But I did not.
I had way too much to do to waste time killing anyone that day.
Life Goes On
It has been over a week since the funeral and almost two weeks since we got the dreaded phone call to say that she was gone. I am both comforted and disturbed by the passage of time. Comforted that life can go on. But equally disturbed that...well, that life can go on even with this gaping hole in our lives. How can this be?
Yes, this is all of our first (minus Meridith's husband who suffered 3 significant family losses for 3 consecutive years) encounter with the death and grief on a personal level and these feelings that are so novel to us have been a sad reality for so many before us. Though no one loss can be compared with another in terms of degree, and no two people grieve the same loss the same way, it feels a lot like the kinship I felt with other women who had given birth once I gave birth for the first time, only with a lot less joy. At the very least, you are instantly transported to a greater level of understanding, awareness, and compassion for grieving people: past, past, and future. You can identify with a degree of grief that up until that point was foreign to you.
But then life goes on. Carpets get cleaned. Primary elections get held. Trips get planned. Meals get eaten. New messes get made. Vehicles break down. And neighbors die, of the same kind of cancer your dear loved one did.
We got the call the day before yesterday that our neighbor at the end of the street had found his esophageal cancer which had been treatable 7 years ago had returned and that it was terminal. He died yesterday morning. His name was Paul. He was 65.
So Monday night we had Jeff's dad over for breakfast dinner. Right as we were sitting down to eat, one of the kids made a joke about how that was David's cue to wake up because it seems like he always does. But he didn't. Instead, the phone rang. I didn't recognize the number and assumed it was likely someone from the Mike Huckabee camp as they had been ringing my phone incessantly over the past week. But for some reason I answered it anyway. And I'm glad I did.
"Hi, Janelle, this is Kay SoandSo, you don't know me, but..."
It turned out that she used to be a neighbor of Jeff's family about 20 years ago and Sharon had led her to the Lord through some at home Bible studies they had done together. Eventually they moved away and lost contact over the years. She lives in Phoenix now, but had read Sharon's obituary online and looked up our phone number to express her shock and sympathy.
It was neat.
And comforting.
And worth giving up my hot pancakes to take the call.
Yes, this is all of our first (minus Meridith's husband who suffered 3 significant family losses for 3 consecutive years) encounter with the death and grief on a personal level and these feelings that are so novel to us have been a sad reality for so many before us. Though no one loss can be compared with another in terms of degree, and no two people grieve the same loss the same way, it feels a lot like the kinship I felt with other women who had given birth once I gave birth for the first time, only with a lot less joy. At the very least, you are instantly transported to a greater level of understanding, awareness, and compassion for grieving people: past, past, and future. You can identify with a degree of grief that up until that point was foreign to you.
But then life goes on. Carpets get cleaned. Primary elections get held. Trips get planned. Meals get eaten. New messes get made. Vehicles break down. And neighbors die, of the same kind of cancer your dear loved one did.
We got the call the day before yesterday that our neighbor at the end of the street had found his esophageal cancer which had been treatable 7 years ago had returned and that it was terminal. He died yesterday morning. His name was Paul. He was 65.
So Monday night we had Jeff's dad over for breakfast dinner. Right as we were sitting down to eat, one of the kids made a joke about how that was David's cue to wake up because it seems like he always does. But he didn't. Instead, the phone rang. I didn't recognize the number and assumed it was likely someone from the Mike Huckabee camp as they had been ringing my phone incessantly over the past week. But for some reason I answered it anyway. And I'm glad I did.
"Hi, Janelle, this is Kay SoandSo, you don't know me, but..."
It turned out that she used to be a neighbor of Jeff's family about 20 years ago and Sharon had led her to the Lord through some at home Bible studies they had done together. Eventually they moved away and lost contact over the years. She lives in Phoenix now, but had read Sharon's obituary online and looked up our phone number to express her shock and sympathy.
It was neat.
And comforting.
And worth giving up my hot pancakes to take the call.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Tuna Tracks
This is for those who knew me back in the glorious phase of my life when I would make up gourmet tuna entrees and delicacies just for fun:
Last night I served two of the children Moose Tracks ice cream, a family favorite. The other child, surprise surprise, wanted to wait until later. You know, after the kitchen was all cleaned up and I had sat down to watch a movie. I had used up the rest of one container on the first two kids, but I knew we had a new 1/2 gallon that our neighbor had brought over the day before. However, when I went to open it, I realized it was Turtle Tracks, not Moose Tracks. Knowing this particular child does not adapt well to such sudden changes to her dietary plans, I quickly briefed her on the differences between Turtle Tracks and Moose Tracks and assured her that I had even tried a spoonful and that it really was quite tasty.
Kathryn, who was distracted by the movie and not really paying attention, interrupted disgustedly, "WHAAAT?! Did you say TUNA tracks?"
Tuna Tracks...mmmm...that sounds good...I'll have some of that!
Last night I served two of the children Moose Tracks ice cream, a family favorite. The other child, surprise surprise, wanted to wait until later. You know, after the kitchen was all cleaned up and I had sat down to watch a movie. I had used up the rest of one container on the first two kids, but I knew we had a new 1/2 gallon that our neighbor had brought over the day before. However, when I went to open it, I realized it was Turtle Tracks, not Moose Tracks. Knowing this particular child does not adapt well to such sudden changes to her dietary plans, I quickly briefed her on the differences between Turtle Tracks and Moose Tracks and assured her that I had even tried a spoonful and that it really was quite tasty.
Kathryn, who was distracted by the movie and not really paying attention, interrupted disgustedly, "WHAAAT?! Did you say TUNA tracks?"
Tuna Tracks...mmmm...that sounds good...I'll have some of that!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
For those about to ROCK...
...We
salute
YOU!
We had more fun with Guitar Hero last night. Meridith and her kids, and our real rockstar friend, Dave, came over to show us how it's done. He arrived in full costume and ready to rock! It was good clean fun! The game has to go back today. Rats!
Friday, January 11, 2008
Yesterday
Thank you to everyone who took the time to view the slideshow and read my previous post about my mother-in-law, and thank you to those who commented and sent cards.
The funeral was yesterday and was a beautiful tribute to her in every way. The service was packed full of the gospel, at her request. She knew that most of her very large, predominantly unsaved family, as well as a few special friends whose souls she had prayed for for years, would be there. It was a full house. I haven't heard an exact number yet, but it was estimated between 250 and 300, with about that many at the viewing the previous afternoon and evening.
I am at a loss for even recounting the events of the day, or week, it is all still such a blur. There were just so many neat little details, but I don't even know how to do them justice or provide enough background in this space to help my readers understand their significance. So many people who came who we would not have expected. Such an outpouring of love and support from people who hardly know us. Neighbors we hadn't even met yet brought meals and desserts when word spread down our street. (Remind me to tell a tale of a not-so-very nice neighbor who made ITSELF known this week in another post...and don't be surprised if you see me on COPS sometime for aggravated assault.)
An acquaintance I made just in the last month, the mother of one of Andrew's new friends, has proved to be such a support. She brought us a meal last week before this all even happened. She and another one of Andrew's friends mothers brought a couple of snack trays with fruits, veggies, and chocolate, and water bottles to the funeral home on the day of the viewing to have in the lounge for the family. She communicated with Andrew's teacher to get his homework and brought it over when she watched my kids for one of the three shifts I had lined up that day AND best of all she brought over her son's Guitar Hero III game for Andrew to play while we were gone. Much to our great pleasure she left it. I don't know if she meant to or not, but it was here last night when we got home. It was the perfect stress relief for the evening. We were exhausted, but we played it as a family for a few hours, and Jeff and Julia stayed up till 11:30 playing it while Andrew and I fell asleep on the floor. We are closet rockers, I cannot lie. I pretty much have no skills, due to my lack of eye hand coordination, or coordination in general...I fell down the stairs this morning, but it is a TON of fun! I am working on perfecting The Seeker by The Who, but so far I am getting whooped by my kids.
I will leave you with one special story. It seems special, anyway, it made the day for me. Jeff's sister, Meridith, had the idea to get white balloons for the grandchildren to release at the cemetery following the burial service. Kind of like blowing kisses to Gramma. Some of the grandchildren had prepared notes to attach. On cue, they were released and up, up, up they soared. Within a minute they were all nearly out of sight, all but two. Two got caught up in a tree nearby. None of us knew whose they were, but it was heartbreaking to me to see them left behind. Most people had already gone back to their cars and were leaving, but the family stayed behind to wait to see if they broke free. Slowly one was liberated, but the other one seemed hopelessly stuck. The breeze seemed to have no effect on it. The others were long gone. I prayed. And waited. I did not want to leave, but it was time. As I started to get in the van, I heard some commotion and looked up to see it had come loose and begun flying upward. Kind of silly, I know. It isn't as if any of them would actually make it to heaven, but it seemed like a little miracle, or a little blessing anyway, for our family.
Here is a little slideshow from last night. There is no audio.
It's a long way to the top, if you wanna rock and roll!
The funeral was yesterday and was a beautiful tribute to her in every way. The service was packed full of the gospel, at her request. She knew that most of her very large, predominantly unsaved family, as well as a few special friends whose souls she had prayed for for years, would be there. It was a full house. I haven't heard an exact number yet, but it was estimated between 250 and 300, with about that many at the viewing the previous afternoon and evening.
I am at a loss for even recounting the events of the day, or week, it is all still such a blur. There were just so many neat little details, but I don't even know how to do them justice or provide enough background in this space to help my readers understand their significance. So many people who came who we would not have expected. Such an outpouring of love and support from people who hardly know us. Neighbors we hadn't even met yet brought meals and desserts when word spread down our street. (Remind me to tell a tale of a not-so-very nice neighbor who made ITSELF known this week in another post...and don't be surprised if you see me on COPS sometime for aggravated assault.)
An acquaintance I made just in the last month, the mother of one of Andrew's new friends, has proved to be such a support. She brought us a meal last week before this all even happened. She and another one of Andrew's friends mothers brought a couple of snack trays with fruits, veggies, and chocolate, and water bottles to the funeral home on the day of the viewing to have in the lounge for the family. She communicated with Andrew's teacher to get his homework and brought it over when she watched my kids for one of the three shifts I had lined up that day AND best of all she brought over her son's Guitar Hero III game for Andrew to play while we were gone. Much to our great pleasure she left it. I don't know if she meant to or not, but it was here last night when we got home. It was the perfect stress relief for the evening. We were exhausted, but we played it as a family for a few hours, and Jeff and Julia stayed up till 11:30 playing it while Andrew and I fell asleep on the floor. We are closet rockers, I cannot lie. I pretty much have no skills, due to my lack of eye hand coordination, or coordination in general...I fell down the stairs this morning, but it is a TON of fun! I am working on perfecting The Seeker by The Who, but so far I am getting whooped by my kids.
I will leave you with one special story. It seems special, anyway, it made the day for me. Jeff's sister, Meridith, had the idea to get white balloons for the grandchildren to release at the cemetery following the burial service. Kind of like blowing kisses to Gramma. Some of the grandchildren had prepared notes to attach. On cue, they were released and up, up, up they soared. Within a minute they were all nearly out of sight, all but two. Two got caught up in a tree nearby. None of us knew whose they were, but it was heartbreaking to me to see them left behind. Most people had already gone back to their cars and were leaving, but the family stayed behind to wait to see if they broke free. Slowly one was liberated, but the other one seemed hopelessly stuck. The breeze seemed to have no effect on it. The others were long gone. I prayed. And waited. I did not want to leave, but it was time. As I started to get in the van, I heard some commotion and looked up to see it had come loose and begun flying upward. Kind of silly, I know. It isn't as if any of them would actually make it to heaven, but it seemed like a little miracle, or a little blessing anyway, for our family.
Here is a little slideshow from last night. There is no audio.
It's a long way to the top, if you wanna rock and roll!
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Slideshow
A huge thank you to Mr. Dave Loven for posting this for me and for helping me salvage some otherwise unusable photos for the slideshow. And thank you to Casting Crowns for recording good music for me to use without written permission.
Monday, January 07, 2008
January 7, 2008
Sharon Mary JacksonSeptember 6, 1945 - January 7, 2008
“For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and
says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.” ~Isaiah 41:13
says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.” ~Isaiah 41:13
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Dear Jesus
"Dear Jesus, why did God make a bad choice?" prayed the littlest girl.
Yes, she was talking about Gramma. =(
Yes, she is still hanging on...God bless!
Yes, she was talking about Gramma. =(
Yes, she is still hanging on...God bless!
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Hanging Tough
It has been a week since Sharon's IV has been out. She is still hanging on.
She very weakly slurred, "I am STRONG, Janelle!" on Monday.
I should have taken her seriously. I was too taken aback that she had not only recognized my voice when she seemed so unaware of her surroundings, but also had heard me quietly exclaim about her strength to Dad when I was helping her sit up.
She is strong. Good-NIGHT!
She is resting comfortably. She does not appear to be suffering. She is showing all the signs now. It won't be long. She is ready. We are as ready as we'll ever be.
It still doesn't seem real. I hate it.
She very weakly slurred, "I am STRONG, Janelle!" on Monday.
I should have taken her seriously. I was too taken aback that she had not only recognized my voice when she seemed so unaware of her surroundings, but also had heard me quietly exclaim about her strength to Dad when I was helping her sit up.
She is strong. Good-NIGHT!
She is resting comfortably. She does not appear to be suffering. She is showing all the signs now. It won't be long. She is ready. We are as ready as we'll ever be.
It still doesn't seem real. I hate it.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
The End is Near
The hospice nurse confirmed the day before yesterday that it could be any time now, but that she did not believe Sharon (my mother-in-law) would be here next weekend. She is exhibiting signs of decline, but not the worst of the worst yet. She is resting comfortably, mostly, and she is at home. Jeff's dad is continuing to do a phenomenal job in caring for her. I am amazed every time I see him in action at how well-composed he is and how tenderly he cares for her. I believe she would not receive better care anywhere right now and that he is every bit as dear as she.
We did have our family Christmas a week ago today as planned and it went well. She was able to be awake for a few hours and was aware enough of her surroundings for it to be meaningful for her. She has been declining steadily ever since.
She is still responsive and recognizes us when we come. She usually tries to talk, but has been making less and less sense over the past 10 days or so since her drug dosages have been increased. Due to their effects, we don't know from one word to the next what she is going to come out with and some of it has been hilarious! We all feel like we can laugh about it without being disrespectful to her and it provides a little relief from the grief at hand, even for a minute.
Tonight as Jeff and I stood by her bed and he touched her arm to get her attention, she turned her eyes toward us and began squinting. She very weakly and slowly said, "You guys are all blue!" Thinking she meant our mood, Jeff assured her we were doing okay and that we weren't blue. She said, "You guys are all PAINTED blue!" And she would not be convinced that we were not the color blue, no matter what Jeff said. Finally she gave up. She rolled her eyes before closing them tightly and shaking her head as she pointed her finger at us and said softly, "You guys are NUTS!"
It was sweet.
Please pray. Pray for her peace and comfort. Pray for Dad's strength, emotionally and physically. And for all of us. Pray that what ever purpose God has in this will be fulfilled, on earth or in heaven. That is her greatest prayer.
We did have our family Christmas a week ago today as planned and it went well. She was able to be awake for a few hours and was aware enough of her surroundings for it to be meaningful for her. She has been declining steadily ever since.
She is still responsive and recognizes us when we come. She usually tries to talk, but has been making less and less sense over the past 10 days or so since her drug dosages have been increased. Due to their effects, we don't know from one word to the next what she is going to come out with and some of it has been hilarious! We all feel like we can laugh about it without being disrespectful to her and it provides a little relief from the grief at hand, even for a minute.
Tonight as Jeff and I stood by her bed and he touched her arm to get her attention, she turned her eyes toward us and began squinting. She very weakly and slowly said, "You guys are all blue!" Thinking she meant our mood, Jeff assured her we were doing okay and that we weren't blue. She said, "You guys are all PAINTED blue!" And she would not be convinced that we were not the color blue, no matter what Jeff said. Finally she gave up. She rolled her eyes before closing them tightly and shaking her head as she pointed her finger at us and said softly, "You guys are NUTS!"
It was sweet.
Please pray. Pray for her peace and comfort. Pray for Dad's strength, emotionally and physically. And for all of us. Pray that what ever purpose God has in this will be fulfilled, on earth or in heaven. That is her greatest prayer.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Baby Got Book
(Thanks to my good friend Dave 2.0, not to be confused with D2, who is always privy to the funniest little whatnots on the web.)
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
A Happy Day
Jeff's youngest sister got re-married on Saturday. It would have been a joyous day anyway. We were all happy for her to have found such a good fellow to love and marry, but it was made even more joyous by the presence of Jeff's mom who was able to be there. It was no small effort she made, nor was the price she paid for her exertion, but she was there. And she looked lovely. And it was good!My Week in Review
Monday I had to evacuate my house in the middle of doing tendyhundred things because my carbon monoxide detector was going off. Incessantly. Waited in my van with children till help arrived. False alarm. Bad batteries.
Today I was first on the scene of an accident involving a feverish Vietnam veteran and a tree. I was lost in thought, busily composing an upcoming writing project in my mind when I saw him lose control just ahead of me on the exit ramp. In slow motion I watched as he struggled to right his veering vehicle before going down an embankment and hitting SEVERAL trees.
This is the second time I have found myself in this position.
I am considering becoming an EMT...as long as I can choose to respond to only those calls which do not involve blood or anything else I don't want to see.
He was inscathed. I waited with him until the police arrived.
Oh and I had an anxiety attack at small group Tuesday. Sometimes people make me very anxious.
My mother-in-law is not doing well. Please pray that her suffering will be minimal, that her husband will continue to have the strength to care for her at home, and that she will be able to have some wakeful periods on Sunday when we celebrate Christmas at their house.
Today I was first on the scene of an accident involving a feverish Vietnam veteran and a tree. I was lost in thought, busily composing an upcoming writing project in my mind when I saw him lose control just ahead of me on the exit ramp. In slow motion I watched as he struggled to right his veering vehicle before going down an embankment and hitting SEVERAL trees.
This is the second time I have found myself in this position.
I am considering becoming an EMT...as long as I can choose to respond to only those calls which do not involve blood or anything else I don't want to see.
He was inscathed. I waited with him until the police arrived.
Oh and I had an anxiety attack at small group Tuesday. Sometimes people make me very anxious.
My mother-in-law is not doing well. Please pray that her suffering will be minimal, that her husband will continue to have the strength to care for her at home, and that she will be able to have some wakeful periods on Sunday when we celebrate Christmas at their house.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Holiday Cheer
Christmas is a joyous time of re-connecting with old friends...and family members...
Yesterday we received this card in the mail. In the interest of protecting their identities, I won't call them by name, but have I told you lately that I love Jeff's family? In the midst of the dreariest Christmas season our (or THEIR) family has ever known, they took the time to continue a delightful tradition, the photo Christmas card. Never too busy to find time to laugh. Never too consumed with grief to pass up a chance to brighten someone else's day.
The back was inscribed with a request to move in with us just till their baby, Cletus, is born because their RV got re-po'ed.
Thanks, guys! Of course you can!
Yesterday we received this card in the mail. In the interest of protecting their identities, I won't call them by name, but have I told you lately that I love Jeff's family? In the midst of the dreariest Christmas season our (or THEIR) family has ever known, they took the time to continue a delightful tradition, the photo Christmas card. Never too busy to find time to laugh. Never too consumed with grief to pass up a chance to brighten someone else's day.
The back was inscribed with a request to move in with us just till their baby, Cletus, is born because their RV got re-po'ed.
Thanks, guys! Of course you can!
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Good News!
The doctor himself just phoned and said everything came back "normal". We will continue to observe. Thank you, Lord!
Monday, December 03, 2007
Child’s Eyes
How often I have wished to possess the faith of a child, the innocence of a child, the I-don't-have-a-care-in-the-world spirit of a child, or the wonder of a child at things that one time I found dazzling. Christmas. Birthdays. Trips to the movie theater. (Oh that's right, I still find that dazzling.) Anyway. We've all felt the longing to experience a life that didn't involve too much thinking or feeling or analyzing, one like we might have lived before this life got too complicated.
That's all dandy till you are talking to your 4 year old trying to calm her anxieties regarding an upcoming battery of medical tests and you begin to realize what it is she THINKS they are going to do to her.
I thought I had prepared her for the most painful test which was to be the blood draw. I had walked her through what to expect including pushing up her sleeve, placing a rubber band around her arm, feeling for veins, swiping her arm with a wet cotton ball, and finally pinching her skin as if to poke her. I knew she wasn't looking forward to it, but she hadn't talked about it in days. This morning as we were getting ready to go to the hospital, she became quite teary at the possibility of having pictures of her insides taken. I couldn't imagine why this would be traumatic to consider aside from it just being an unfamiliar process, but I assured her it would be painless and quick. Then she asked with quivering lips and tear-filled eyes, "But will they have to take my skin off?" Because how ELSE could pictures of her insides be taken? Sheesh. I am thankful for my ability to think like an adult today. But only today.
Everything went fine. She smiled sweetly for each X-ray as if that, too, would be captured on film and lend some clue as to her internal condition. And she didn't shed a tear for the blood draw.
And it is nothing critical, as far as we know, just some pre-cautionary measures being taken to calm Mom's adult anxieties.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Other Real Moms
Real moms ignore their children sometimes, too. Utterly. Completely. Inexcusably, at times.
And when they dare to speak or come near her, she contorts her face almost beyond recognition and screams loudly profanities such as the SU word and offers no apologies, and sometimes even worse than that.
A real mother feels regret for actions, but is comforted by the collective resilience and affection of her young.
And she reminds herself as her own real mother reminded her long before she bore children, "Tomorrow is another day."
And it is.
And I will keep right on breathing, Lord willing, and being real.
And when they dare to speak or come near her, she contorts her face almost beyond recognition and screams loudly profanities such as the SU word and offers no apologies, and sometimes even worse than that.
A real mother feels regret for actions, but is comforted by the collective resilience and affection of her young.
And she reminds herself as her own real mother reminded her long before she bore children, "Tomorrow is another day."
And it is.
And I will keep right on breathing, Lord willing, and being real.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Miserable Robots
I should just create a blog for Kathryn. But for now her antics shall be reported here.
There is a song the kids sing at church called "Great Big God".
I heard her singing it in the bathtub last Saturday. I joined in with her.
Our God is a great big God (3x)
And He holds us in His hands
But that was the easy part. I was curious to see how many of the words she knew herself, so periodically I would stop singing to see if she would continue.
He's higher than a skyscraper
And deeper than a submarine
He's wider than the universe
And beyond my wildest dreams
Every time I stopped she carried on, tune and all, and didn't miss a single word. Until...
And He's known me and He's loved me
Since before the world began
How wonderful to be a part
Of God's...aaa..mmm...MISERABLE plan
=) (It's supposed to be amazing plan.)
Yesterday afternoon I had a bad headache. Surprising, I know. I got David down for his nap and got Kathryn situated with something on Noggin, and then told her I was going to lie down until the older kids came home from school in about 20 minutes. I told her NOT to come upstairs to ask me when I was getting up and that I would be getting up when her show was over.
Seven or so minutes later I heard my bedroom door hinges squeak followed by a tap tap upon my shoulder.
"Mom, can I have some salami?"
I told her she could if she could reach it herself, but that I would NOT be getting up until the kids came home and reminded her again NOT to come in my room unless it was an emergency.
In all seriousness she asked, "Like if robots come or something?"
I am wondering if she meant Mormons because we had a visit from a couple recently. Or perhaps even Jehovah's Witnesses because we had a disturbing encounter with some who would not leave the porch and were peeking in the window several months ago.
Or maybe she really meant robots. Who even knows? In any event they did not come.
There is a song the kids sing at church called "Great Big God".
I heard her singing it in the bathtub last Saturday. I joined in with her.
Our God is a great big God (3x)
And He holds us in His hands
But that was the easy part. I was curious to see how many of the words she knew herself, so periodically I would stop singing to see if she would continue.
He's higher than a skyscraper
And deeper than a submarine
He's wider than the universe
And beyond my wildest dreams
Every time I stopped she carried on, tune and all, and didn't miss a single word. Until...
And He's known me and He's loved me
Since before the world began
How wonderful to be a part
Of God's...aaa..mmm...MISERABLE plan
=) (It's supposed to be amazing plan.)
Yesterday afternoon I had a bad headache. Surprising, I know. I got David down for his nap and got Kathryn situated with something on Noggin, and then told her I was going to lie down until the older kids came home from school in about 20 minutes. I told her NOT to come upstairs to ask me when I was getting up and that I would be getting up when her show was over.
Seven or so minutes later I heard my bedroom door hinges squeak followed by a tap tap upon my shoulder.
"Mom, can I have some salami?"
I told her she could if she could reach it herself, but that I would NOT be getting up until the kids came home and reminded her again NOT to come in my room unless it was an emergency.
In all seriousness she asked, "Like if robots come or something?"
I am wondering if she meant Mormons because we had a visit from a couple recently. Or perhaps even Jehovah's Witnesses because we had a disturbing encounter with some who would not leave the porch and were peeking in the window several months ago.
Or maybe she really meant robots. Who even knows? In any event they did not come.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Real Moms
Real moms wear their pajamas to drop their children off at school in the morning.
Sometimes.
And it is those times that they really hope there won't be a traffic jam in the parking lot that requires her to exit her vehicle in order to let her children out and escort them through the maze of automobiles to safety. Before the tardy bell even thinks about ringing.
That is a real mom's sincerest hope.
Sometimes.
And it is those times that they really hope there won't be a traffic jam in the parking lot that requires her to exit her vehicle in order to let her children out and escort them through the maze of automobiles to safety. Before the tardy bell even thinks about ringing.
That is a real mom's sincerest hope.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
My next question is...
It pains me to ask this, but is anyone else disappointed with the new season of The Office?
Feel free to comment even if you love this season.
I promise I won't delete any hate comments directed at me and/or my humble opinion, but to me it seems very blaaaaaaaah! Funny, but barely. Everyone seems out of their groove. The timing is off. The chemistry seems lost.
What the heck happened?
Feel free to comment even if you love this season.
I promise I won't delete any hate comments directed at me and/or my humble opinion, but to me it seems very blaaaaaaaah! Funny, but barely. Everyone seems out of their groove. The timing is off. The chemistry seems lost.
What the heck happened?
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Bee's Knees...Cat's Pajamas
I didn't start wearing pants until I was 20 years old. My first pair were a dark robin's egg blue, almost jade, but not quite even a little bit cool pair of pleated slacks from Fashion Bug that were exactly 2 sizes too big. You know, for the sake of modesty. They were just long enough to touch the top of my prized penny loafers that my new love interest, Jeff Jackson, had given me for Christmas. I was in my first year of college, but looked the part of a maiden well beyond my years in said attire. I could have almost passed for a mother of four back then.
Since that time I have struggled to find my way in the realm of slack wearing. I don't naturally possess a great deal of fashion savvy, so it honestly has been more of a challenge than some would believe. I see what I think looks good, but can never seem to pull the look together on myself. Consequently, I have a closet full of mostly too short, too tight or too loose, Mom-rise pants of nearly every description, and I almost NEVER feel "cool" in jeans. Add to that the fact that I am "tall" and I am a What Not to Wear candidate waiting to be nominated. (PLEASE, somebody, call Clinton and Stacy!)
Anyway, after having no luck this summer at garage sales or the Salvation Army, I broke down and bought some jean pants brand new from a store just last week. They fit me. They are long enough. And I think they might even be what some might call stylish. Today when I dropped Kathryn off at preschool, an uber cool fellow preschool mom, who is uber cool enough to drive a VW Beetle, complimented me on them. She has never spoken to me before. Nor could I recall at that moment EVER being complimented on a pair of jeans I was wearing. I looked around for a TLC camera crew, but there wasn't one to be seen. Minutes later as I was sitting in my van outside a store talking on my cell phone, a woman approached me and interrupted my call to ask where I got my hair done. I do frequently get this question, for which I take no credit, but on the heels of the other compliment, I was feeling like the bee's KNEES. For at least one or two minutes.
I like to appear put together, but I am not so shallow that I would derive ALL of my feelings of self-worth from two random affirmations, most days. But today I am just that shallow. =) Shallow as a puddle of spit, as my brother has said, but not about me.
It is good for a mom, particularly a mother of 4, to feel like the cat's pajamas every once in a while. Like once every 11 years at least. But more often would be nice too.
Since that time I have struggled to find my way in the realm of slack wearing. I don't naturally possess a great deal of fashion savvy, so it honestly has been more of a challenge than some would believe. I see what I think looks good, but can never seem to pull the look together on myself. Consequently, I have a closet full of mostly too short, too tight or too loose, Mom-rise pants of nearly every description, and I almost NEVER feel "cool" in jeans. Add to that the fact that I am "tall" and I am a What Not to Wear candidate waiting to be nominated. (PLEASE, somebody, call Clinton and Stacy!)
Anyway, after having no luck this summer at garage sales or the Salvation Army, I broke down and bought some jean pants brand new from a store just last week. They fit me. They are long enough. And I think they might even be what some might call stylish. Today when I dropped Kathryn off at preschool, an uber cool fellow preschool mom, who is uber cool enough to drive a VW Beetle, complimented me on them. She has never spoken to me before. Nor could I recall at that moment EVER being complimented on a pair of jeans I was wearing. I looked around for a TLC camera crew, but there wasn't one to be seen. Minutes later as I was sitting in my van outside a store talking on my cell phone, a woman approached me and interrupted my call to ask where I got my hair done. I do frequently get this question, for which I take no credit, but on the heels of the other compliment, I was feeling like the bee's KNEES. For at least one or two minutes.
I like to appear put together, but I am not so shallow that I would derive ALL of my feelings of self-worth from two random affirmations, most days. But today I am just that shallow. =) Shallow as a puddle of spit, as my brother has said, but not about me.
It is good for a mom, particularly a mother of 4, to feel like the cat's pajamas every once in a while. Like once every 11 years at least. But more often would be nice too.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Love?...Cholera?
Is anyone else thinking the title of the upcoming movie "Love in the Time of Cholera" sounds just, well...icky?!
Saturday, November 10, 2007
WWJD?
Yesterday morning the girls were going at it. Again. Neither had been up longer than 7 minutes. There was snarling. Insults were being hurled. Illogical arguments abounded.
Once again, I asked aloud, "What would Jesus do? How would He get along with His siblings?"
Julia was the one to answer this time. "If you were this bad at His house, I know He would take control of you!"
This to follow up Kathryn's retort to Julia when she was asked the same question about a year and a half ago which was, "I think Jesus would punch YOU right in the face!"
Friday, November 09, 2007
Siblings
"Stay close to your siblings. They are the best link to your past and the most likely to stand by you in the future."
Thank you, brother and sister, for making the effort to regain and maintain that closeness one year ago today. I will never forget the warm windy day on the farm or the rainy day in D.C. that followed.
You're the best!
You're the best!
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Joseph
I just want to write something real quick like before last Sunday becomes too distantly removed from my memory.
I want to be like Joseph.
I don't long to wear a varicolored tunic. And I don't want to be hated by, betrayed by, and sold into slavery by my own brothers. I don't want to live in a foreign land separated from my father. I don't want to be wrongly accused of a violent crime or imprisoned.
But I want to be as quick to forgive people who don't deserve it and quicker to see God's sovereignty in my life.
"I am Joseph! Is my father still alive?"
Those would not be the words that I would choose to reveal my identity to the ones responsible for my suffering of 22 years.
But then he goes on.
"And now do not be grieved or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve...to preserve for you a remnant in the earth, and to keep you alive by a great deliverance. Now, therefore, it was not you who sent me here, but God."
I need to forgive. Really forgive. And let grudges go. Forever. I need to acknowledge the sovereignty of God, not just when it suits me.
Thank you, Pastor Larry, for the excellent plagiarized sermon. And thank you, Dr. David Jeremiah, for being the source he ripped off.
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 5th 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.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Friday, November 02, 2007
Thursday, November 01, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
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
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 fromtrying 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.)
(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...
Monday, October 29, 2007
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.)
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.)
Saturday, October 27, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
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.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
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
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
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
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!
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!
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
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
Andrew with Mr. NaglerMonday, October 08, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
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. =)
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
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.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, September 14, 2007
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.
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...
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...
Saturday, August 25, 2007
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.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
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!
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!
Sunday, August 19, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
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.
Monday, August 06, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
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! =)
Happy Saturday! =)
Saturday, July 21, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, July 20, 2007
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!
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.
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