Spit Shock and Piggy PT

Went to bed last night at 2 a.m. I had to settle a few things in my mind before I could sleep. It took longer than I anticipated. Boy, I sure wasted a lot of time being down on myself, down on others and just being plump ungrateful. I hate that it got the best of me.

I woke up at 8:30. Abigael hadn't even made a peep yet. She went to sleep last night at...8? I know, I know, I have an angel in the midst! Instead of waking to her hungry cries, I woke to Noam pulling my hair. He said he was "weeding" and said I had "white strings" in my hair. Uh, yea. It's called GREY!

Noam bounds out of bed, I stumble and drag myself to the bathroom. I brush my teeth. Noam goes potty. Good boy. I was getting a cup of coffee while Noam brushed his teeth while happily admiring himself in the mirror.


Just as I walked in to check on him with my phone camera ready to shoot my big boy brushing his teeth, I saw him SPITTING IN THE DRAWER! What in the world?!?!? I had the perfect photo, but not the one I anticipated! His look says it all. Guess he knew better!

After cleaning the drawer out, I decided Abigael just had to get her hair up in pig tails. It gets so matted and tangled otherwise because it is so long. THAT was a chore! It was definitely a good round of physical therapy. For I had to sit her on the counter, keep her held sitting forward (i had her face the bathroom mirror - it worked like a charm!) so I could part and comb her hair. The tough part was getting the hair into a tail and holding it - only to struggle even more to wrap it all up in the very cool tangle-free rubber bands I found for her extra fine silky hair.

That was about as an eventful morning as I could handle. P.T. at 2. Nap now!

because she's BETTER than me

I LOVE YOU, EMILY!

She always knows the perfect gift, the perfect words to send my way.
She knows what I need to say, but can't - and even knows when - and, because she loves me...because she's my friend...she thinks of me...she helps me...she loves me even when my life is messy or just *SICK*

that's one reason why she is better than me - she just KNOWS even though she is far far far away in a land that just seems to create cute little lives (when can I go back!??) and I'm here where people are busy earning points on Farmville or Mob Wars or facebook, stalking my wall but never heeding the call...

the other reason is because she sent me these adorable thank you cards...top notch quality, pristine...perfect.

AND she used some of the paper on ME to wrap it all up and send my way...Can I give her one when she sent it to me? The pressure is on! I have to find something just as wonderful with a warm citrus kiss to return to sender - because she's better than me.



I dont' want to use these cards. I want to keep them and look at them and remember my friend. But. Because she is better than me and shows me LOVE that expects nothing in return - I will follow suit and thank the few elephants who have used their 40,000 muscles in their trunks to *lift me up* during this time.

The good and bad part of it is - I'll be able to thank the friends who have helped, provided a meal (two wonderful women!) and helped me prep food...but I'll have plenty to keep...I hope for a while.

Well! Someone Has to Do it!

My precocious, compassionate and responsible two year old has been asking me for a several days now..."Mama, no work?" "Abby. Noam. Go to school?" And I say, "no, Noam. Not today."

This morning, Saturday, Noam's little mind must have feared the worst. Mama's not working - and I'm not going to school - so....

He opened the closet that he knew housed my work bag, used his little engineer mind to figure out how to put it in himself, climbed up on his stool to reach my dangling keys on my elephant hook (still got it, Laura! Thanks!) and came to me, lumbering the entire way.

"I go to work, Mama. I got my work bag, Mama. And keys, ok? Ok, Mama. Bye bye! Be back, Mama!"

Lord, bless his heart. Think he was forgetting something, though? ha ha

I used to be the girl...

I used to be the girl
who believed in dreams come true
and that you could get orange from the color blue
that cried while watching the news
and cotton commercials -though I did not choose
to have emotions on my sleeve
and for every hurt to grieve and grieve

and then.
I stopped.

Now i'm the girl who's solid like a rock
steady and predictable like time's tick tock
I will cry after hysterical laughing
but not shed a tear from trials I've having

until yesterday.

I was aware that I no longer was free to hug and absent-mindedly put my hand on your elbow as we spoke, or say "I love you" verbally or twirl in circles alone in my room just for feeling giddy without reason. I was aware that teddy bears and hearts and chocolate and sappy songs irritated me. I was aware that I groaned inside whenever someone else around me cried. And I wrote in my journal:

"he must not have loved me, because he did not break me. Someone come and love me, take my heart and tear it up, break it - give me a breakdown. I want to meltdown. I'm void of love and got a stock-pile of rocks that shine but do nothing else. I don't know how to shed a tear, I want to sob - I want to cry SO BADLY...but I can't. I have had no reason to - but I had every reason to be in bed all day unraveling toilet paper to grab the goo stuck on my face from exploding sinuses and tears and sobs and trying to breathe. I did not miss love; I can't remember what it is - so therefore, I could not grieve what I never knew. Maybe he left me this way after breaking my spirit like an oak tree being whittled away - hour after hour, day after day.

People say I'm so strong, that I've learned to endure - but to become an airtight container...surely that is not the cure. I just want to break down.

If you love me, then please take my heart and tear it up."

I wrote that a few months ago. And for the first time in a long, long, long, long time - I have allowed myself to cry for a PERIOD OF TIME (sure I cried in a counseling office and in a doctor's office and when my friend died...but I grabbed myself by the shoulders and shook myself until my teeth rattled, pulled up my big-girl panties, sucked up the tears and composed myself within seconds - a minute at the longest). Yesterday, I started to cry. And I'm still crying. The body broke me so that I can return to return to the body even stronger. It's not a bad thing. Winter is gone - it's time for spring. I'm ready to be effie - and just AMES again. I've returned! (and yes, I twirled)

Just What Momma Ordered

My dad and mom spent two and a half hours getting groceries for me - and that is with a list I made them organized and listed by aisle. What love! They brought the groceries over, helped me put them away, riled up my two year old and retrieved my mail for me since it's a bit dangerous for me to do it myself. (I am unstable -ha ha- due to balance and I live off a very busy road with zero shoulder between the road and mailbox). I recognized her handwriting on the envelope right away. Expecting to find a track or quick note, I was surprised by a beautiful coaster. It was a picture of love sent with 0% condemnation, 100% tender concern (kindness). I should start a collection!

Appearance of Evil

What is the appearance of evil? When is it real?
A few things happened to me at different stages of my life - all of which frustrated and hurt me, but gave me greater insight into the minds of men (and women, whom I fear are far better at being judgmental).

Scenario #1: In one week (a while back), I had two of my brothers (one was a brother-in-law) come to my home. One to pick up some nursery items I was giving to him as another baby was on her way - and the other to help me put some very needed child safety locks in place.
A neighbor said to me, "I thought you were Christian?" I said, "I am". She said, "but you have all sorts of men coming and entering your home." I felt judged. Wait. No. I WAS judged. Perhaps she was thinking that it was unwise for me to have strange men or any man come into my home with an infant son. I would agree. But did I need to explain to her that I am adopted...and that the men she mistook as suitors or questionable companions are my brothers?

Scenario #2: On Guam, while working with a mission group short-term, I was at a fiesta (come one, come all - who cares, there's enough food to feed the Marianas!)and was sitting with some locals. We all sat together while some drank beer, some partook of Beetlenut and some smoked cigarettes. I engaged in the latter. I do realize that smoking can hurt a testimony, but I feel it is a far cry to call it a cardinal sin. Anyways, someone saw and instead of coming to me to give me a kind heads' up (perhaps this is not the proper place to engage in such an activity or I would not want someone to question your lifestyle...devotion to the Lord) she went straight to the mission field director who then said "You are a bad missionary." This same director confronted another couple who were also there that partook in drinking beer. I found it very interesting months later, while delivering a meal I had made to the director and his wife - to find a case of beer in their closet and alcohol in their fridge.



Am I crazy to have felt hurt by those situations? Defensive?

I'll make a deal with you. I will not pretend to be anything or anyone than I am not. What you see is what you get. I will say what I mean and I will mean what I say. I will trust you to do the same. I will do my absolute best to honor the Golden Rule - and I will expect nothing from you than what you are (unless you're being plumb stupid when you're better than that - then I say, "you are better than that! STOP IT!)



Matthew 18 (restore your brother in love, win him forever)
JOHN 8:3-11



Dear brothers and sisters, do you feel condemned? Maybe there is no finger writing in the sand while the crowd points at what they don't understand. Just keep living for HIM because he's written YOUR name on the palm of his hand

Living Up to His Name

Today was rough. Especially the outcome of my follow up with my neurologist. She did not have good news for me. Looks like the next two weeks will be full of physical therapy, more tests, more doctors, more meds. I do feel that I am in good care. I am not to drive with my kids in the car so I think I'll forego the cost of daycare, but that makes things difficult at home since I only have one hand and they are more than a handful. My first session of physical therapy was just plumb exhausting and it was very disappointing to see how quick and eager my brain is but how slow and cautious my limbs were.

Abby has been fighting a fever due to teething, I'm sure. Every time she fights a fever or illness her breathing is compromised. So I could not wait to see her and how she was doing and just cuddle with her. She had improved today at daycare. I tried to cuddle her but she felt so much better that she was rearin to go and play. I could not comfortably hold her in a secure position so I waited for her to settle down some and let her play with Noam. They play so well together. She just adores him.

I was trying to open a can by myself and then a new bottle of dressing. It was not going well at all. I wound up dropping the can on my left foot. I immediately said OUCH! But then laughed. One positive to being a clutz and a bit of a handicap is that when you drop your cans on your foot after a stroke you don't feel a thing! Now I know to aim for my foot whenever I drop something! I gave up on the can and the dressing and ate my salad plain. It was good but very boring.

After that struggle I was ready for bed. I knew it was time for the kids to have their bath. It was certainly an even greater struggle getting us all out of our clothes or into our birthday suits in order to have a proper bath. It is laughable how long this took. I was starting to feel a bit whiny but determined to enjoy my children and just being able to be with them. Things could be so much worse. After the bath I was able to transfer baby and terror into their room for their traditional after bath moisturizing. Noam must have noticed my fatigue so he took it upon himself to put a diaper on his little sister and pull out her pajamas for me. He put his undies back on, jumped in bed and quickly got settled in under the covers. "snug in a bug rug, mama!" (I usually tell him he is snug as a bug in a rug) and then he said his prayers. Abby was lying down beside him. He pulled her onto his chest and snuggled her for me. Perhaps he knows I can't.

What a picture. It just melts my heart. Noam means God's pleasant gift and friend. I'd say he is definitely living up to his name. What a gift he is to me and what a friend to sweet-faced Abby. He held her and sang the song I made up for her. He didn't miss a beat or word.

Wish I had been able to catch it on video. Just the perfect ending to a wearisome day.

A crockpot creation

I was excited about trying two new recipes from the crockpot365 blog.
Though the meals were gluten free, they looked scrumptious and the blogger Stephanie has admirable wit and persuasion. Kim came over and helped me prep the recipes and Jason from work gave me the gluten free ingredients. Julie delivered them. All saints and yes, I have time to notify the Vatican.

The first recipe was green chile chicken. Looks like Steph appreciates a good ol kick and a punch of spice. The second recipe was called End of Summer Harvest soup. Well, I was appealed by the zucchini and squash and everyone knows how much I love soup, so I decided to write it in my recipe book as All Season soup :)

I messed up the first recipe by missing one tiny detail. I thought the second recipe turned out horrible. It was due to spaghetti sauce being a major contender in the mix. I couldn't justify having spaghetti sauce as a broth so I continued to let it cook, drained the vegetables when they were translucent and washed them off, rinsing with cold water. I then took half of the veggies and mixed it in with the chicken, added some chicken broth and Korean chili paste and cooked it all over again. Oh my goodness. My what a party in my mouth! It was really good served over rice. Ok, I actually haven't eaten it yet but I sampled more than a forkful before picking up the iPhone to share my delight. I am eating it served over rice. The other half of veggies I mixed with spaghetti sauce and put it in the freezer for gluten free pasta night. I'm calling this creation harvest chicken with pacific heat. Bon apetite!!!

Nursery Rhymes

Hey, Diddle-Diddle - the cat and the fiddle; there's elephants all over the room!

Because I'm not into frills and lace and pink and cartoons and cutesty-cutesy "rainbow throwup" (that's what I call it), I knew it was going to take some time trying to find a way to decorate the nursery appropriately for a boy AND a girl.

It actually was not as difficult as I had anticipated...or I just "lucked out"!

I saw a lamp that I was instantly drawn to. It was cute, it was completely "bearable" and had nice-even-keeled colors I knew I could decorate a room around. Plus, it was an ELEPHANT lamp! Bonus!

So I found a crib set that matched the lamp (although the two were not together and took some web browsing - it actually WAS a set). Then I found a rug that matched the elephant lamp and the crib set. Now what? I searched and googled "toddler boy bedroom" and I came up with cutesy-cutesy stuff. No, I did not want Monsters, Inc or Dora the Explorer or CARS all over the bedroom. The elephants would not like that. Besides the attack of juvenile (ok, I know we're talking about a kids bedroom here, but I just can't appreciate it) bedding, there is very few bed sets available for toddlers for a full-size or double bed. Noams bed is a full-size.

So I picked out a color that I thought would be appropriate for a boy and could maybe match the crib set - ah ha, Blue! So I googled 'blue bedding full-size'. I did not come up with much and thought perhaps I would just have to get a plain looking comforter or blanket to put on his bed.

So I googled red. Nothing. So then I googled blue and red. I found something. It looked like it could match. Hmmm. What's this? Discounted? Clearance? Yes, it really does match. Could it be true? Well, let's see. If it isn't, I'll return it. So I ordered it. (online shopping is so convenient for a single mom). I just happened to find it on Overstock.com and paid $1 for shipping. Not bad.

Then I found a rug and a pillow set.

The boys' bed set came first. I immediately put it in the washer. Ding! Without allowing any time to pass, I put it in the dryer. It came out all rumpled and looking like a sheet that the bachelor everyone has in their office mistook for a shirt and walked into work with (smile). I put it in the dryer again. Checked the "wrinkle release" button. Yep, it's on. Ding! Took it out a second time, still the same. Darn material! So. I set out (this was more than a week ago) to iron. I ironed two pillow cases, a fitted sheet, a sheet-sheet (what are those called? Oh yea, flat sheet) and the duvet cover (I just threw the old comforter inside it-genius!). It took me a LONG time. I realized half-way through that it was just going to look "only slightly wrinkled" even if I did the best ironing job ever. Slightly dismayed, I set up the bed. Fit wonderfully and I liked it a lot.

More than a week later, the crib set came. That was a challenge opening up that packaging. I was like a one-thumb wonder with a bear paw for a second hand. Fun stuff. Washed that except the two longer pieces that were part of the bumper set. I set out to put it on the crib today. I considered it my physical therapy. Can you imagine tying knots with one good hand? Mission accomplished...teeth come in handy (sigh)

Here are photos of the end result. I'm actually very pleased, no -thrilled! I finally have a nursery in my home and one that I can tolerate. Everything matches perfectly. All that is left is finding some fun pictures to frame and put on the walls. I'm thinking elephants...or something fun like that. From the beginning of life - my kids will know it is not necessarily a bad thing to be the "elephant in the room". If you have no idea what I'm talking about read At Home in the Herd, a previous blog posting.