Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
A keyboard!
I grew up playing piano. So much of my life was expressed through music--piano instruction is where I learned determination and persistence. Piano is how I worship God. Terry and I don't have a piano, so since I was married, so I practiced and played at my church. WHen I was no longer on staff at a church--and had a small child--it was difficult to find a venue and time to play. I have missed piano and longed for it. Terry bought me a guitar a few years ago, thinking it would help fill the musical void. I've tried to play, but have gotten stuck on the "F" and "B" chords. Plus strumming is so weird to me! I'm still determined to learn, but the piano has my heart.
Well, our church is having an "Alpine Preview" (read: audition) for their band. I'd been praying about playing piano again, and read this as perhaps a chance to serve God and in turn, have the gift of music given back to me. I stopped in at church today to pick up the lead sheets and CD, and asked if the keyboard was set up during the week, and could I please practice on it? Our pastor actually had a beautiful spare keyboard in the backroom that he loaded in my van for me to take home and borrow. I felt so blessed--God's goodness just brings me to tears. Even if I'm too rusty and out of practice to play in the band, I'm so grateful to have a week or two to practice and play again.
Well, our church is having an "Alpine Preview" (read: audition) for their band. I'd been praying about playing piano again, and read this as perhaps a chance to serve God and in turn, have the gift of music given back to me. I stopped in at church today to pick up the lead sheets and CD, and asked if the keyboard was set up during the week, and could I please practice on it? Our pastor actually had a beautiful spare keyboard in the backroom that he loaded in my van for me to take home and borrow. I felt so blessed--God's goodness just brings me to tears. Even if I'm too rusty and out of practice to play in the band, I'm so grateful to have a week or two to practice and play again.
Fearless Birth
I decided to send in my VBAC story to Kelly, of Fearless Birth. She has a great blog regarding VBACs and birthing in general. She's collecting VBAC stories, and since I have one, I submitted it to her. It's long, but I wanted to include details!!! :) Here it is:
I suppose my VBAC story begins with the unplanned "emergency" Cesarean section of my daughter, Grace. I had a doctor whom I trusted implicitly, and I delivered at a certified “baby-friendly” hospital with a beautiful view of a Florida river. I went to my normal doctor appointment that morning, knowing that I was in labor. My doctor confirmed that I was at 5cm, 90% effaced and sent me straight to the hospital.
There, the doctor broke my water to discover some meconium in the fluid. I was given an IV for fluids and “just in case.” A few hours later, my labor had not progressed. The nursing staff convinced me that an epidural would kick in immediately and be perfectly safe. The epidural did not “take”, and the anesthesiologist, on his way out of town finishing his shift, did not believe me.
My doctor came back in and told me that I had not progressed since 10am, and was still stuck at 5cm. He informed me I had to have a Cesarean section. I cried and said, “I don’t want a Cesarean!! There must be something else we can do!” My husband asked if there was another way to deliver a healthy baby. The doctor insisted there was no other way.
My baby was cut out of me after 5 tries for an epidural to finally work. I did not get to hold her right away, and got a small glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye before the doctors whisked her off to observation. I was given medication to make me sleepy, and awakened alone in a bed in a dark, strange room, with no ability to sit up, walk or even reach a nurse. I wondered if I had died. I don’t know how long I sat in the dark, scared and confused, until finally I heard footsteps in the hall and called out for help. Someone summoned a nurse, who plugged my bed back in.
Later, I read my operative record and noticed that the doctor said my husband and I had reviewed the risks of a Cesarean and had “elected” to have it. I was so angry! I decided that I did not want to go through that again. I hated being unable to lift my baby or walk or breastfeed in certain positions without pain for several weeks after the delivery. I hated that my precious baby had a small cut behind her ear from the scalpel’s incision in my womb.
I wanted a memory of pushing her out and holding her and nursing her. That was stolen from me, in much the same manner she was taken from my womb.
So, upon learning that I was pregnant almost 2 years later, I began to research my options. I knew that I wanted a large family, and that Cesarean sections were often dangerous and risky, especially past four children. I was uncomfortable with a medical procedure determining the size of my family. I considered the pain I still experienced in my abdomen when I hunched over, as a probable result of scar tissue. I thought about how difficult it would be to care for both my two year old and my newborn after a Cesarean section. I told my new doctor that I was concerned about iatrogenic prematurity and had no desire to schedule a Cesarean. The doctor told me that I could go into labor naturally and then have the Cesarean.
Learning that there were other possible options, rather than just blindly succumbing to a scheduled Cesarean section, empowered me. I asked my doctor about my chances for a VBAC. I spoke with medical professionals who encouraged me to pursue a VBAC. I researched online, and found a forum for mothers planning VBACs. He asked me to do research concerning the pros and cons of that choice. I showed up at my next appointment armed with statistics, testimonies, and my desire to have a baby naturally. The doctor steamrolled over me and lectured me on chances being slim, due to the hospital’s policies regarding operating rooms, anesthesiologists and other dangerous conditions in case of an emergency.
I called every obstetrical office in my county, and finally found one practice, 45 minutes away, that would gladly deliver VBAC babies. My husband and I hired a doula, remembering the trauma of me being left alone after the Cesarean section. We agreed that my husband would stay with the baby in case of a problem, and the doula would stay with me. We also felt that hiring her would show the doctors and hospital staff that we were extremely serious about having a natural birth. I had ready many books on labor and delivery, practiced relaxation techniques and prayed daily for my new baby.
As my “due date” came and went, my doctors were concerned. I knew that my baby and I had the right to wait as long as it took, up to at least 42 weeks. My doctors felt that they could not safely induce me, and I agreed.
Finally, 9 days past my due date, labor began. I was feeling hard contractions every three minutes, and after several hours of this, decided it was time to go to the hospital. We got there feeling confident that I would be at least 5 cm dilated. Imagine my shock when I was barely dilated 1 mm! I was “overdue” with this baby and the contractions were very difficult to focus through.
The hospital admitted me, and thus began the birth of my son. I was given an IV for fluids, and my arm began stinging and swelling up. Apparently, the IV was “blown.” A member of the IV team was sent up to correct the problem. Every time a contraction hit, I breathed in and out deeply, using techniques that were natural to me, thanks to years of musical instruction (singing and playing French horn). I walked around the maternity ward, and spent much time in the shower, letting the warm water soothe my back and comfort me. I wanted to use the hospital’s Jacuzzi, but for some reason, my doctor would not consent to that.
Twenty four hours of hard contractions later, I was tired. My doctor suggested giving me an histamine shot to help me rest. I agreed. It proved ineffectual—making me drowsy enough to want to sleep, but taking away my power to focus and breathe through contractions. An hour later, I was in tears, defeated. I could not go on like that any longer, and I was still only 1-2 cm dilated. I couldn’t imagine another minute of this. My doula, a natural childbirth advocate, agreed that I needed relief.
I told my doctor that I needed an epidural. He reminded me that this was not in my birth plan. I replied that my birth plan had not included over 24 hours of feeling hard contractions without hitting “active” labor. I told him, “Either give me the epidural or do a Cesarean. I cannot go on.” My doctor suggested an AROM (Artificial rupture of membranes) before the epidural, concerned that the epidural would slow labor down or stop it completely. I refused. I told him I could not handle another procedure, exam or contraction. I was ready for the epidural, regardless of the consequences.
An anesthesiologist was sent up quickly. I remember a nurse holding my shoulders still, and focusing on her colorful shirt while the long needle went in my back. She had flying pigs all over it, and it struck me as just the comic relief and distraction I needed. The epidural worked immediately, and I could have kissed the anesthesiologist.
I reclined and rested my eyes. Finally, I had a moment to relax. I was given a balloon catheter in my cervical opening to slowly help me dilate. Eight hours later, I woke up to 10cm dilation, with the epidural beginning to wear off and feeling ready to push. I felt pressure with each contraction, pushed for 52 minutes and then held--with my own two arms--my beautiful, healthy 9lb 9oz baby boy.
I breastfed my new baby as soon as he was weighed, and felt joyous. I got up and danced to the bathroom, just because I could. I had triumphed over not only a previous Cesarean section, but also over reluctant doctors and hospitals afraid of liability regarding VBACs, and over a stalled labor. Pushing my son out was the most empowering moment I ever experienced.
Later, my doctor told me that had he realized how big my son was, he would have pressured me more to have a Cesarean section. I responded, “I’m so glad you did not know!” My doctor also suggested that my original contractions were painful due to scar tissue from my Cesarean, and should not have been noticeable to me in a “normal” situation.
If I have a third child, I plan to remain home as long as possible. I would even consider a birthing center, or a home birth. I feel that something as seemingly innocuous as the initial IV could cause me to feel stress. I want to remain in a calm, comfortable place and remember the triumph of my VBAC son and the joy of motherhood.
I suppose my VBAC story begins with the unplanned "emergency" Cesarean section of my daughter, Grace. I had a doctor whom I trusted implicitly, and I delivered at a certified “baby-friendly” hospital with a beautiful view of a Florida river. I went to my normal doctor appointment that morning, knowing that I was in labor. My doctor confirmed that I was at 5cm, 90% effaced and sent me straight to the hospital.
There, the doctor broke my water to discover some meconium in the fluid. I was given an IV for fluids and “just in case.” A few hours later, my labor had not progressed. The nursing staff convinced me that an epidural would kick in immediately and be perfectly safe. The epidural did not “take”, and the anesthesiologist, on his way out of town finishing his shift, did not believe me.
My doctor came back in and told me that I had not progressed since 10am, and was still stuck at 5cm. He informed me I had to have a Cesarean section. I cried and said, “I don’t want a Cesarean!! There must be something else we can do!” My husband asked if there was another way to deliver a healthy baby. The doctor insisted there was no other way.
My baby was cut out of me after 5 tries for an epidural to finally work. I did not get to hold her right away, and got a small glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye before the doctors whisked her off to observation. I was given medication to make me sleepy, and awakened alone in a bed in a dark, strange room, with no ability to sit up, walk or even reach a nurse. I wondered if I had died. I don’t know how long I sat in the dark, scared and confused, until finally I heard footsteps in the hall and called out for help. Someone summoned a nurse, who plugged my bed back in.
Later, I read my operative record and noticed that the doctor said my husband and I had reviewed the risks of a Cesarean and had “elected” to have it. I was so angry! I decided that I did not want to go through that again. I hated being unable to lift my baby or walk or breastfeed in certain positions without pain for several weeks after the delivery. I hated that my precious baby had a small cut behind her ear from the scalpel’s incision in my womb.
I wanted a memory of pushing her out and holding her and nursing her. That was stolen from me, in much the same manner she was taken from my womb.
So, upon learning that I was pregnant almost 2 years later, I began to research my options. I knew that I wanted a large family, and that Cesarean sections were often dangerous and risky, especially past four children. I was uncomfortable with a medical procedure determining the size of my family. I considered the pain I still experienced in my abdomen when I hunched over, as a probable result of scar tissue. I thought about how difficult it would be to care for both my two year old and my newborn after a Cesarean section. I told my new doctor that I was concerned about iatrogenic prematurity and had no desire to schedule a Cesarean. The doctor told me that I could go into labor naturally and then have the Cesarean.
Learning that there were other possible options, rather than just blindly succumbing to a scheduled Cesarean section, empowered me. I asked my doctor about my chances for a VBAC. I spoke with medical professionals who encouraged me to pursue a VBAC. I researched online, and found a forum for mothers planning VBACs. He asked me to do research concerning the pros and cons of that choice. I showed up at my next appointment armed with statistics, testimonies, and my desire to have a baby naturally. The doctor steamrolled over me and lectured me on chances being slim, due to the hospital’s policies regarding operating rooms, anesthesiologists and other dangerous conditions in case of an emergency.
I called every obstetrical office in my county, and finally found one practice, 45 minutes away, that would gladly deliver VBAC babies. My husband and I hired a doula, remembering the trauma of me being left alone after the Cesarean section. We agreed that my husband would stay with the baby in case of a problem, and the doula would stay with me. We also felt that hiring her would show the doctors and hospital staff that we were extremely serious about having a natural birth. I had ready many books on labor and delivery, practiced relaxation techniques and prayed daily for my new baby.
As my “due date” came and went, my doctors were concerned. I knew that my baby and I had the right to wait as long as it took, up to at least 42 weeks. My doctors felt that they could not safely induce me, and I agreed.
Finally, 9 days past my due date, labor began. I was feeling hard contractions every three minutes, and after several hours of this, decided it was time to go to the hospital. We got there feeling confident that I would be at least 5 cm dilated. Imagine my shock when I was barely dilated 1 mm! I was “overdue” with this baby and the contractions were very difficult to focus through.
The hospital admitted me, and thus began the birth of my son. I was given an IV for fluids, and my arm began stinging and swelling up. Apparently, the IV was “blown.” A member of the IV team was sent up to correct the problem. Every time a contraction hit, I breathed in and out deeply, using techniques that were natural to me, thanks to years of musical instruction (singing and playing French horn). I walked around the maternity ward, and spent much time in the shower, letting the warm water soothe my back and comfort me. I wanted to use the hospital’s Jacuzzi, but for some reason, my doctor would not consent to that.
Twenty four hours of hard contractions later, I was tired. My doctor suggested giving me an histamine shot to help me rest. I agreed. It proved ineffectual—making me drowsy enough to want to sleep, but taking away my power to focus and breathe through contractions. An hour later, I was in tears, defeated. I could not go on like that any longer, and I was still only 1-2 cm dilated. I couldn’t imagine another minute of this. My doula, a natural childbirth advocate, agreed that I needed relief.
I told my doctor that I needed an epidural. He reminded me that this was not in my birth plan. I replied that my birth plan had not included over 24 hours of feeling hard contractions without hitting “active” labor. I told him, “Either give me the epidural or do a Cesarean. I cannot go on.” My doctor suggested an AROM (Artificial rupture of membranes) before the epidural, concerned that the epidural would slow labor down or stop it completely. I refused. I told him I could not handle another procedure, exam or contraction. I was ready for the epidural, regardless of the consequences.
An anesthesiologist was sent up quickly. I remember a nurse holding my shoulders still, and focusing on her colorful shirt while the long needle went in my back. She had flying pigs all over it, and it struck me as just the comic relief and distraction I needed. The epidural worked immediately, and I could have kissed the anesthesiologist.
I reclined and rested my eyes. Finally, I had a moment to relax. I was given a balloon catheter in my cervical opening to slowly help me dilate. Eight hours later, I woke up to 10cm dilation, with the epidural beginning to wear off and feeling ready to push. I felt pressure with each contraction, pushed for 52 minutes and then held--with my own two arms--my beautiful, healthy 9lb 9oz baby boy.
I breastfed my new baby as soon as he was weighed, and felt joyous. I got up and danced to the bathroom, just because I could. I had triumphed over not only a previous Cesarean section, but also over reluctant doctors and hospitals afraid of liability regarding VBACs, and over a stalled labor. Pushing my son out was the most empowering moment I ever experienced.
Later, my doctor told me that had he realized how big my son was, he would have pressured me more to have a Cesarean section. I responded, “I’m so glad you did not know!” My doctor also suggested that my original contractions were painful due to scar tissue from my Cesarean, and should not have been noticeable to me in a “normal” situation.
If I have a third child, I plan to remain home as long as possible. I would even consider a birthing center, or a home birth. I feel that something as seemingly innocuous as the initial IV could cause me to feel stress. I want to remain in a calm, comfortable place and remember the triumph of my VBAC son and the joy of motherhood.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Teaching Grace Reading
A friend of mine loaned me a book called Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons. It's quite incredible. We're on lesson 22, and Grace has learned how to sound out words and read small one and two sentence "stories." The pace at which she learns is quite incredible. I was getting frustrated with our early attempts--she has been able to recognize all the letters in the alphabet for 2 years, but didn't get the concept of "sounding it out." This book changed that.
Every day, she asks if she can have "Princess Lessons." She puts on a pretty princess dress and decides which Princess she would like to be. I'm her "teacher" and I "rescue" her from the evil stepmother or wicked queen. Reading unlocks the door to the dungeon!!!! She loves it, and after her lesson she gets to choose a piece of candy or a sticker. It's so cool to watch her learn.
I was reading the newspaper at 5 years old, and I've been a bit disappointed that she hasn't caught on to reading as naturally as I'd expected. However, I have no idea what formal instruction I received through daycare and preschool. And I started kindergarten early, in private school.
Anyways, this curriculum is amazing.
Every day, she asks if she can have "Princess Lessons." She puts on a pretty princess dress and decides which Princess she would like to be. I'm her "teacher" and I "rescue" her from the evil stepmother or wicked queen. Reading unlocks the door to the dungeon!!!! She loves it, and after her lesson she gets to choose a piece of candy or a sticker. It's so cool to watch her learn.
I was reading the newspaper at 5 years old, and I've been a bit disappointed that she hasn't caught on to reading as naturally as I'd expected. However, I have no idea what formal instruction I received through daycare and preschool. And I started kindergarten early, in private school.
Anyways, this curriculum is amazing.
My vote
I really really really like John Edwards. I hate that he's the underdog. He seems to be a man of integrity and compassion. I like his concern for the environment. I like his humble beginnings.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Grammar
I'm a grammar/spelling diva, so I thought I'd share something I learned. In a recent blog, I posted about Grace lying in bed. I wasn't sure whether the correct term was "lying" or "laying." Basically, lay means to put an object somewhere. Lie refers to the practice of reclining. A way to remember this is "lie lies in rec-li-ning." That's how I'm going to remember it, anyways!
Here's an interesting link regarding lie vs. lay.
Here's an interesting link regarding lie vs. lay.
ugh
Grace is more ill than I thought. No temperature--but she threw up. I changed her sheets, bathed her, and put her in bed with a bucket. Here we go.
I rushed around this morning, making oatmeal, fending off our dogs, soothing the kids' emotional sensitivities. I had Grace dressed and ready for school, myself dressed and wrestled with AJ for about 5 minutes to get his pjs off. Another 5-10 minutes to get his pants and shirt on, and finally he succumbed to the socks and shoes. I went to get Grace. She's lying in her bed, with a bowl of mac and cheese. (Yes, the dogs ate her oatmeal. . . .bad dogs!)
She told me she felt very sick. Too sick to go anywhere. She doesn't care for Fridays because she's a "daycare friend" then. She goes to preschool (which is a short day--only 2 hours, instead of almost 3) and then she goes to daycare for 2 hours. She doesn't like having to be still and rest (they watch a video) when she wants to play. I promised her a trip to the Treehouse Museum if she went nicely to daycare today. I reminded her that if she missed school and daycare, she couldn't go to Treehouse. She was fine with that. My super clue that she's really not well.
I suspect she's very weak and still fighting off this horrible virus thing she and AJ contracted. So much for picking up appliques at the fabric store! Here I am, home with two ill, grumpy, oversensitive children. I do think they're on the mend. Grace just came down and told me "I'm so sick. Can you take care of me?" Sweet girl.
This gives me an opportunity to clean up the living room and knit my new socks.
What a week.
She told me she felt very sick. Too sick to go anywhere. She doesn't care for Fridays because she's a "daycare friend" then. She goes to preschool (which is a short day--only 2 hours, instead of almost 3) and then she goes to daycare for 2 hours. She doesn't like having to be still and rest (they watch a video) when she wants to play. I promised her a trip to the Treehouse Museum if she went nicely to daycare today. I reminded her that if she missed school and daycare, she couldn't go to Treehouse. She was fine with that. My super clue that she's really not well.
I suspect she's very weak and still fighting off this horrible virus thing she and AJ contracted. So much for picking up appliques at the fabric store! Here I am, home with two ill, grumpy, oversensitive children. I do think they're on the mend. Grace just came down and told me "I'm so sick. Can you take care of me?" Sweet girl.
This gives me an opportunity to clean up the living room and knit my new socks.
What a week.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
More illness
AJ's beginning to recover from croup and then a very high temp of 104, but Grace is just starting her bout with this illness. She told me she was tired and actually asked to go to bed at 6:30pm tonight. She's running a fever now. She was well earlier and went to school and dance class. I'm glad she went, because this is probably it until Sunday, the way things are going around here.
And I have to skip the gym, of course. So much for SPIN class. I bet I gain 2+ lbs this week. And I'm trying to LOSE!!!!!
I should give Terry major credit. He took off Monday and Tuesday to help care for the kids--since Grace was well and AJ wasn't, they were both extra demanding. He came home early today because AJ was napping and Grace needed to go to dance class. He took his laptop and studied while G danced her heart out. :)
Classes for his Masters in engineering began this week. I see how busy Terry's going to be from now until graduation. Again. Poor guy.
And I have to skip the gym, of course. So much for SPIN class. I bet I gain 2+ lbs this week. And I'm trying to LOSE!!!!!
I should give Terry major credit. He took off Monday and Tuesday to help care for the kids--since Grace was well and AJ wasn't, they were both extra demanding. He came home early today because AJ was napping and Grace needed to go to dance class. He took his laptop and studied while G danced her heart out. :)
Classes for his Masters in engineering began this week. I see how busy Terry's going to be from now until graduation. Again. Poor guy.
Cancer Free!
My aunt Gail was diagnosed with breast cancer (her third time fighting this) last year. Chances sounded very slim that she could recover, and she has fought a long, hard battle. After her most recent pet-scan, she was declared "breast cancer free!" Hallelujah!! It's TRULY a miracle.
Grandma
Today I was buying a Starbucks gift card to send to my sister, who is a freshman in college. I wanted to encourage her at school and let her know we're thinking about her.
Somehow that triggered a memory of how encouraging my grandmother was to me. She was so proud of me in college. She tried to call me, but of course I was never in my room. So we devised a system where I would call her collect, and instead of accepting the charge, she would decline and then call me back. She just simply could not lie, so when the collect call would come through, she would say, "Staci? Staci isn't here. There's no one here by that name" instead of just saying no. It was so cute.
When I was a teenager and my parents were unfair to me, I would call my grandmother and cry. She always sided with me, to my comfort. She cried with me and would talk about other times she and my grandfather felt my parents were too strict or demanding of me. She was my safety and my comfort. She told me I was her favorite, and I believed her. She made an awesome roast beef with potatoes, and always served canned cranberry sauce with dinner.
I miss her terribly. She said that she wouldn't die until I was married. She wanted to know that I was taken care of. Well, I moved in with Terry and we had a quiet December 31 wedding with just the pastor I worked for and my parents. We had a large wedding planned for July. My grandma died in April. Technically, I WAS married, even though we hadn't told her. I just wish she'd made it to the wedding.
She doted on me. And sometimes I look at my children and wish that she could see them. That she could see the joy they bring to me. That she could see how I have matured into a responsible woman from the flighty, silly girl I used to be. I made some disappointing choices, and I feel so badly that I ever distressed or grieved her. I wish I could ask her questions about her childhood, about her family and about how she lived so frugally, saving every last penny. I miss her watching her favorite soap opera: Days of Our Lives. And how she would throw a little bit of Polish into a conversation, such as "chee-ho-bunch" and "t00-tYe" and "juda".
She came to my high school play and cheered me on. She loved me, and her loss has been incredibly difficult for me. It's almost 7 years since she died, and not a day goes by that I don't think of her.
Somehow that triggered a memory of how encouraging my grandmother was to me. She was so proud of me in college. She tried to call me, but of course I was never in my room. So we devised a system where I would call her collect, and instead of accepting the charge, she would decline and then call me back. She just simply could not lie, so when the collect call would come through, she would say, "Staci? Staci isn't here. There's no one here by that name" instead of just saying no. It was so cute.
When I was a teenager and my parents were unfair to me, I would call my grandmother and cry. She always sided with me, to my comfort. She cried with me and would talk about other times she and my grandfather felt my parents were too strict or demanding of me. She was my safety and my comfort. She told me I was her favorite, and I believed her. She made an awesome roast beef with potatoes, and always served canned cranberry sauce with dinner.
I miss her terribly. She said that she wouldn't die until I was married. She wanted to know that I was taken care of. Well, I moved in with Terry and we had a quiet December 31 wedding with just the pastor I worked for and my parents. We had a large wedding planned for July. My grandma died in April. Technically, I WAS married, even though we hadn't told her. I just wish she'd made it to the wedding.
She doted on me. And sometimes I look at my children and wish that she could see them. That she could see the joy they bring to me. That she could see how I have matured into a responsible woman from the flighty, silly girl I used to be. I made some disappointing choices, and I feel so badly that I ever distressed or grieved her. I wish I could ask her questions about her childhood, about her family and about how she lived so frugally, saving every last penny. I miss her watching her favorite soap opera: Days of Our Lives. And how she would throw a little bit of Polish into a conversation, such as "chee-ho-bunch" and "t00-tYe" and "juda".
She came to my high school play and cheered me on. She loved me, and her loss has been incredibly difficult for me. It's almost 7 years since she died, and not a day goes by that I don't think of her.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
There's a bug
going around. I think I've caught it. My throat hurts, ears are stopped up, getting tired.
Ugh. I've been taking Emergen-C for mega vitamin C doses. Drinking echinacea tea. Zinc lozenges. I might have to go to Jamba Juice for their cold-stopping smoothie next!
Ugh. I've been taking Emergen-C for mega vitamin C doses. Drinking echinacea tea. Zinc lozenges. I might have to go to Jamba Juice for their cold-stopping smoothie next!
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Party Time!
This is an excerpt from the late great Mike Yaconelli--an amazing youth minister and founder of Youth Specialties. I will never forget hearing about his death. I am still grieving for youth ministry the loss of Mike. He's funny, kind, and really "gets" youth ministry in a way that most people never will. He always opened Youth Specialties Conferences with a speech about using this time to rejuvenate. He'd say, "Are you exhausted? Don't take a class on rejuvenating--go take a nap! Is your marriage in trouble because of all the time you're pouring into teenagers? Don't take a class on marriage enrichment--Put up a privacy sign on your hotel door, lock your spouse in with you and don't come out until Sunday! "
He surprised us all one conference morning in Nashville. Some people had decided to skip this particular event and catch up on some other things. I'm so glad I didn't. He brought up this man (actually, this man was sitting next to me for the first half of the speaking-Yac asked me to save a seat for him) who he said was homeless and played the violin to honor Jesus and he wanted us all to hear him. So this guy started to play Amazing Grace on his violin, scratchy and a bit off key. He finished, to polite applause. then this guy said he had another song and didn't we want to hear it? Scattered applause, kind of. We were getting uncomfortable and disinterested. This homeless man then added that his friend Mikey was here and was going to help him play. We got a bit nervous. THEN up on the stage appears Michael W Smith to lead us in worship!!!!! It was sooooo awesome. 5,000 youth workers singing and praising God, led by the biggest name in Contemporary Christian music. What a great way to pull a joke on us. Yac was just like that. Every time I saw him he was hugging someone or smiling or cracking a joke. I didn't know him well, but the glimpses I saw of him enthralled me.
IT'S TIME TO PARTY (excerpts)
By Mike YaconelliIt doesn't take much to make most of us realize that we have become too serious, too tense, too stressful. The result is that we have forgotten how to live life. It seems like the older we get, the more difficult it is for us to enjoy living.
It reminds me of a description of life given by Rabbi Edward Cohn: "Life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time, all your weekends, and what do you get in the end of it?"
I think that the life cycle is all backward. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live twenty years in an old-age home. You get kicked out when you're too young. You get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You go to college; you party until you're ready for high school; you go to grade school; you become a little kid; you play. You have no responsibilities. You become a little baby; you go back into the womb; you spend your last months floating; and you finish up as a gleam in somebody's eye.
It's hard to imagine we were a gleam in someone's eye once. What happened to the gleam in our eye? What happened to that joyful, crazy, spontaneous, fun-loving spirit we once had? The childlikeness in all of us gets snuffed out over the years...
The sign that Jesus is in our hearts, the evidence of the truth of the gospel is ... we still have a light on in our souls. We still have a gleam in our eye. We are alive, never boring, always playful, exhibiting in our everydayness the "spunk" of the spirit. The light in our souls is not some pietistic somberness, it is the spontaneous, unpredictable love of life...I believe it's time for the party to begin.
Copyright 1989 Mike Yaconelli. Permission is granted to send this to others, with attribution, but not for commercial purposes.
He surprised us all one conference morning in Nashville. Some people had decided to skip this particular event and catch up on some other things. I'm so glad I didn't. He brought up this man (actually, this man was sitting next to me for the first half of the speaking-Yac asked me to save a seat for him) who he said was homeless and played the violin to honor Jesus and he wanted us all to hear him. So this guy started to play Amazing Grace on his violin, scratchy and a bit off key. He finished, to polite applause. then this guy said he had another song and didn't we want to hear it? Scattered applause, kind of. We were getting uncomfortable and disinterested. This homeless man then added that his friend Mikey was here and was going to help him play. We got a bit nervous. THEN up on the stage appears Michael W Smith to lead us in worship!!!!! It was sooooo awesome. 5,000 youth workers singing and praising God, led by the biggest name in Contemporary Christian music. What a great way to pull a joke on us. Yac was just like that. Every time I saw him he was hugging someone or smiling or cracking a joke. I didn't know him well, but the glimpses I saw of him enthralled me.
IT'S TIME TO PARTY (excerpts)
By Mike YaconelliIt doesn't take much to make most of us realize that we have become too serious, too tense, too stressful. The result is that we have forgotten how to live life. It seems like the older we get, the more difficult it is for us to enjoy living.
It reminds me of a description of life given by Rabbi Edward Cohn: "Life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time, all your weekends, and what do you get in the end of it?"
I think that the life cycle is all backward. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live twenty years in an old-age home. You get kicked out when you're too young. You get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You go to college; you party until you're ready for high school; you go to grade school; you become a little kid; you play. You have no responsibilities. You become a little baby; you go back into the womb; you spend your last months floating; and you finish up as a gleam in somebody's eye.
It's hard to imagine we were a gleam in someone's eye once. What happened to the gleam in our eye? What happened to that joyful, crazy, spontaneous, fun-loving spirit we once had? The childlikeness in all of us gets snuffed out over the years...
The sign that Jesus is in our hearts, the evidence of the truth of the gospel is ... we still have a light on in our souls. We still have a gleam in our eye. We are alive, never boring, always playful, exhibiting in our everydayness the "spunk" of the spirit. The light in our souls is not some pietistic somberness, it is the spontaneous, unpredictable love of life...I believe it's time for the party to begin.
Copyright 1989 Mike Yaconelli. Permission is granted to send this to others, with attribution, but not for commercial purposes.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Finished!
I made AJ a robe and pj pants. Now to cut out the matching shirt! That robe pattern is one of the first things I sewed when I got a machine a few years ago. Grace still wears it!
And I knitted my first successful pair of socks. They're for AJ. And I think they're so cute! It only took 3 tries.
And I knitted my first successful pair of socks. They're for AJ. And I think they're so cute! It only took 3 tries.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Family
My uncle was riding his motorcycle when a pick up truck hit him today. He's in the hospital, broke his leg in the same place it broke 20 years ago when he was in a motorcycle accident. Meanwhile, his wife--my aunt--is battling breast cancer, with regular chemo and radiation treatments scheduled through the summer.
My heart is burdened for them. All I can do is pray, and praying I am.
My heart is burdened for them. All I can do is pray, and praying I am.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Christmas cake
We baked a birthday cake to celebrate Jesus' birthday. Grace helped by cracking the eggs, and pouring ingredients into the mixer. After it came out of the oven, Grace decorated it. When I mentioned eating it, she wanted to know if it was okay with Jesus if we ate his cake. Christmas day, we sang Happy Birthday to Jesus and enjoyed every bite of His birthday cake.
Antelope Island
Antelope Island is an amazing island in the middle of the Salt Lake. It's populated with bison and has several walking and hiking trails, an educational visitor center, camping facilities and an eatery. We went the other day with the kids.
Keep in mind it's a $9 entrance fee per vehicle. We took the dog, anticipating an energetic hike on a trail. AJ cried the whole drive down there. We thought he'd feel better once we stretched our legs (it's about a 25 min. drive). Nope. He just kept crying. Then he complained that his hands were cold. If he would wear his mittens, they'd feel MUCH better, but he was not interested. So we went to the visitor center and basically went home after about 20 minutes.
However, on the side of the road bison were grazing. They were extremely close and we got some fun pictures! Yes, they're really that close--about 8 feet away from Grace. It's not just clever photography!!!!!
Keep in mind it's a $9 entrance fee per vehicle. We took the dog, anticipating an energetic hike on a trail. AJ cried the whole drive down there. We thought he'd feel better once we stretched our legs (it's about a 25 min. drive). Nope. He just kept crying. Then he complained that his hands were cold. If he would wear his mittens, they'd feel MUCH better, but he was not interested. So we went to the visitor center and basically went home after about 20 minutes.
However, on the side of the road bison were grazing. They were extremely close and we got some fun pictures! Yes, they're really that close--about 8 feet away from Grace. It's not just clever photography!!!!!
Cinderella
is the best game ever. Grace LOVES to be Cinderella, and I, of course, get to be the mean Stepmother. I get to snap at her and act mad and make her clean her room and the living room and the bathrooms and her brother's room (he's Drizella, most days) and she thinks it's SOOOO COOL!!!! Plus I get a spotless house!!
It's so funny. But the other day I snapped at her that Drizella and Anastasia were still sleeping and she must be quiet, and her eyes got big and she whispered, ("Wait--are you still Stepmother?") It was so cute.
It's so funny. But the other day I snapped at her that Drizella and Anastasia were still sleeping and she must be quiet, and her eyes got big and she whispered, ("Wait--are you still Stepmother?") It was so cute.
Friday, January 4, 2008
SPIN class
Pshew! I got my T-shirt. It fits. Hallelujah! :)
I've found a new love for non-weight bearing exercise: SPIN class. It feels good, it kicks my butt, and I leave 45 minutes later with 650 calories burned.
I played racquetball with Terry tonight, and he commented that he could tell SPIN has paid off: I'm much more agile. We actually volleyed instead of me just trying to dodge his serves and watch him play!
Unfortunately, the January New Year's Resolution crew have decided to actually use their gym memberships. The class, which had extra bikes in Dec, is filling up by 11:35 for a 12:00 class!! People are arriving at 11 to get a bike. Regulars, who work, arrive and find the bikes are all gone. I watched two separate chicks sign in for 4 different people and grab 4 tags. I think that's ridiculous: That's half the class right there, with only 18 bikes available! Plus one chick's mother was 2 minutes LATE arriving, which hardly seems fair to the people who were actually on the premises and didn't get a bike.
My suggestion to the gym is to add an 11:00 class for the early birds, thus lightening the burden of the 12:00 class. Or keep the tags/sign in behind the counter and assign ONE tag per person. Or both. Or add some SPIN bikes on the general floor, since the bikes they have out there won't do extended positions.
I've found a new love for non-weight bearing exercise: SPIN class. It feels good, it kicks my butt, and I leave 45 minutes later with 650 calories burned.
I played racquetball with Terry tonight, and he commented that he could tell SPIN has paid off: I'm much more agile. We actually volleyed instead of me just trying to dodge his serves and watch him play!
Unfortunately, the January New Year's Resolution crew have decided to actually use their gym memberships. The class, which had extra bikes in Dec, is filling up by 11:35 for a 12:00 class!! People are arriving at 11 to get a bike. Regulars, who work, arrive and find the bikes are all gone. I watched two separate chicks sign in for 4 different people and grab 4 tags. I think that's ridiculous: That's half the class right there, with only 18 bikes available! Plus one chick's mother was 2 minutes LATE arriving, which hardly seems fair to the people who were actually on the premises and didn't get a bike.
My suggestion to the gym is to add an 11:00 class for the early birds, thus lightening the burden of the 12:00 class. Or keep the tags/sign in behind the counter and assign ONE tag per person. Or both. Or add some SPIN bikes on the general floor, since the bikes they have out there won't do extended positions.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Socks.
Socks, in my house, always seem to disappear. Not both of a pair, although I suspect that's happened a few times. Usually it's just one so that I'm stuck with one that matches nothing. I tried buying all white for the kids, but that's so boring! And we accidentally buy different brands/cuffs and the AJ ends up with pink or something when Terry dresses him b/c he can't find socks for the kids and Grace's seem to work just fine if they're the only ones readily available, without a hunt under the dryer or the couch or in the dog's crate or in a pillowcase or something.Anyways, I found a solution!!
I bought some mesh lingerie bags with the zippers at the top. Whenever the kids or I take off our socks (Terry's dont disappear at the same rate ours do) we put them in the bag. I throw the bag in the washer and dryer, and voila! Out comes the zipped up bag with matching socks. Then I bring the bag to various bedrooms where the socks are unloaded directly into the drawers.
I think I'm a genius.
I bought some mesh lingerie bags with the zippers at the top. Whenever the kids or I take off our socks (Terry's dont disappear at the same rate ours do) we put them in the bag. I throw the bag in the washer and dryer, and voila! Out comes the zipped up bag with matching socks. Then I bring the bag to various bedrooms where the socks are unloaded directly into the drawers.
I think I'm a genius.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)