To the Rescue

For the past six months or so, Ben has had a fixation with firemen. He talks frequently of being a fireman "when he grows up" and "fighting fires with a hose." In fact, during our last cold spell he decided to get a head start with the help of his Halloween costume.



But then, this morning we had this conversation.

Ben: Mom, when I grow up I am going to be a good fireman.

Me: That's great Ben." I replied with sleepy enthusiasm.

Ben: And fight all the bad firemans with water

Me: Oh. Hmmm, well all firemen are good Ben, they help people.

Ben: Oh. They just fight with fire.

Me: Uhhh, yes, they fight fire. They spray it with water and put it out. And they help people when they are stuck or hurt.

Ben sits quietly for a moment, contemplating.

Ben: Okay, but they could still fight with Spiderman, right?

Oy.

So... who wants to tell Ben that firemen, while indeed heroes, are not of the Super variety?


For another funny, but not nearly as appropriate, outburst from Ben, visit me at Worst Mama today.

Takin care of Business

I have been neglectful. Some very kind people have passed on some very sweet awards and I have not shown my appreciation or passed on the honors. So now I am playing catch-up.

First of all, my real life friend Amy, from Signs, Miracles, and Wonders, gave me the Daily Dose Award weeks ago.

This award is for a Blog that encourages you. Which explains why I got it weeks ago as my posts of late have been of the melancholy variety, and hardly encouraging. Her posts, however, are always encouraging. I was almost tempted just to pass this right on back to her. So thanks Amy!

I am going to pass this award on to Lisa at Lisa Writes because she encourages me almost daily in my Christian walk and in striving to be a Godly mother to my four children. That girl is chock full of wisdom and is a wonderful writer to boot. It's a good thing I don't know her in real life because I would be tempted to start stalking her.

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Secondly, Slouching Mom and Painted Maypole passed on the "Mwah!" award.
Slouching Mom says this is "A chaste kiss given to say Thank you for friendships and comments in the blogosphere." I have made it no secret that I am a huge fan of Slouching Mom's writing. One might even call me a Slouching Mom groupie. How nice to know that she actually enjoys my adoration and comments. She's another one I would stalk.

(I bet you are all starting to be glad I don't know where you live!)

Maypole says she passed it on to me because she knew I was needing some "Cyber Lovin." She's a sweetheart that Maypole, even if she is going to Mardi Gras parades and DisneyLand all in one week. I don't hate her too much for that, though. Really I don't.

I am passing this award on to Chrissy over at Tales from the Carpool Lane because she's such a funny and faithful commenter. And to The Dragonfly over at On Dragonfly Wings because of her regular encouragement. It means so much to me.

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I was also tagged for a Meme by the incomparable and deep-thinking Veronica Mitchell, but I am going to save that for another rainy day. It's something about being quirky but as I am, in fact, dreadfully dull I am going to need some time to make something up to think on this one.

A This and That Update

Thank you so much for all your encouraging words on my "This and That" post. It really is amazing to me how sweet a bunch of people I have never met can be. This promises to be another long and newsy post, but at least my mental state has greatly improved in the last week. It doesn't hurt that The Man is back at home. Where he belongs. He declined an offer to hang out with a friend of his this afternoon, saying "I watch the kids on Sunday afternoons so Joy can take a nap."

Really, what more can one ask for in a man?

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Clara's neuro evaluation is this Thursday. I am more convinced than ever that this a superfluous precaution. Clara seems to take steps perfectly fine when she feels like it. However, I can't seem to bring myself to cancel the appointment, so I will go and pay to listen to them tell me what I already know: She's stubborn. It also appears to be the only way to get a referral for an orthopedist which is something I think she may need. I think that some days. Other days she seems perfectly fine and I think this entire process is a big waste of time and money.

Oh, and here are a couple pictures from her 18 month portraits. Look how sweet she looks.


And then there is this next picture, which is a personal favorite of mine. You really should click on it so you can get an close-up view of the look of superior annoyance Clara shoots at us daily.

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Moving on...

I spoke to my doctor about my silly little polyp and it was determined I need to have a DNC Hysteroscopy to remove it. This is excellent news and exactly what I was praying for. It is a simple outpatient procedure that should, hopefully, correct all the problems I have been having. I am waiting for the surgical coordinator to call me to schedule it, but I would have it done tomorrow if I could.

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About one hour after I posted the news that Ben was finally potty trained he had an accident. Seriously, ONE HOUR! And he's had two since then, after being dry for weeks. So I am vowing to never utter, or write, those words again. Well maybe when he's ten. Maybe.

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Brandon is still grounded. This weekend he read the entire book Odd Thomas, which he loved, despite the fact that it was recommended by his mother. I did let him go to a superbowl party tonight at his uncle's house. Because he has been stuck in this house for a month now and I worry about him. And because it meant I would have time alone.

To do this.

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Oh! I must tell you. Surprisingly, I am still an active member of the 6:oo AM club, and I am loving it. Me! With the nonexistent willpower muscles. Okay, I don't actually love it at 6AM but somewhere around 7AM the benefits start kicking in. My mornings are going so much more smoothly now that I get up an hour before my children. Also starting the day with prayer and in The Word has been pivotal in the improved mental state I mentioned earlier.

The only major downfall I have experienced is that I now really need to be asleep by 11:00. Which, when my husband doesn't get off work until 9:00 and my older kids don't go to bed until 10:00, is extremely difficult. It also means less time with The Man, which neither one of us likes. And it means almost no time for blogging. I don't do the 6AM thing on weekends for that reason. So I can stay up later and hang out with my sweetheart. So far, I think the trade off is worth it.

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And lastly - speaking of weak willpower muscles - we'll touch on the dreaded diet. I am sure you were all beside yourself wondering how I was doing with that! In the last couple weeks I have fallen head first, crashing, off of the diet wagon. I am finally ready to regroup though and start again, a measly 5 lbs lighter and the exact same size as I was at this point last month.

Dieting sucks. That's just all there is to it.

But I am not giving up yet, so look forward to more "Diet Myth" posts coming up soon. I know you can't wait.

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And now that I have bored you all to tears with my life details, I am off to bed. I hope to find a way to get back to posting regularly soon. I would love to know how all of you, especially those with young children, find time to fit it in your schedule. So send me some tips.

Do you have a schedule?
Do you just squeeze it in when you have time?
Do you not sleep?
Do you lock your children in a closet?

I'm open for anything.

Focus

For Theme Thursday

Monday Mission - On Valentines Day

This Valentines Day there's just one thing I want
And I promise I'll tell you, once I say what it's NOT.
So Babies and Daddy please stop right here
And listen to all that I DON'T want this year.

I don't want bright flowers to tickle my nose
Or soft fuzzy slippers to warm up my toes.
I don't want chocolates wrapped with string
Or perfume, or lace or a new diamond ring.

I don't want a kitten all soft and purry
Or a new cuddly teddy bear, big, brown and furry.
I don't want dinner or dancing, or a night on the town
Or pajamas with hearts or a "Best Mama" crown.

I don't even want Valentines scribbled in crayon
Or tissue bouquets made by your tiny hands.
It's all lovely, my dears, and the thoughts are the BEST
But I DONT want a bit of it, nor all of the rest.

What I want is unusual as far as gifts go.
You can't put it in a box or wrap it up with a bow.
What I want can't be found at a store on a shelf.
What I want for Valentines Day is...

TO BE BY MYSELF!

One day all ALONE from morning to night
Without wiping chins or refereeing a fight.
No Daddy, no kids, no pets and no noise
And please make it somewhere without any toys.

I want to read a whole book from beginning to end
And sleep til I wake-up, and then sleep again!
I want to take a long bath without one knock at the door
And eat a meal warm, without crumbs on the floor.

I want to hear SILENCE to read, write, and pray
And to only brush my teeth at the end of the day.
And when I drift off to sleep I'll thank God for each one of you
And the day you gave me ALONE, with nothing to do.

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This silly representation of a real life fantasy of mine, is part of the Monday Mission which was to write a post in the form of a children's story or poem. For more Monday Mission participants, or to link your own, visit Painted Maypole.

A Little of This, A Lot of That

This week, after being inspired by Lisa, I joined the 5 AM Club. Except, it's the 6 AM Club here. I won't lie and say it's been life changing, but I am trusting that will come with faithfulness. It has been good. It's necessary. My family feels like it's under attack right now, and I need the armor. And the patience. And the time to do laundry. It's also making me really tired about 5 PM each afternoon.

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The Man is out of town for the weekend. I can't express how much I dislike it when The Man goes out of town. My patience cup has sprung a leak lately, and now it's dry as a bone. I miss him. He's the other half of this ragtag parenting team, and I don't work well without him.

I have been consoling myself by watching much of the first season of Battlestar Galactica on DVD, while successfully ignoring the heckling from my teenager.

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Clara went to her 18 month appointment last week. Despite some deliciously cherubic evidence to the contrary, she's measuring tall and thin. She impressed the doctor with her speech and charming personality.

No that wasn't sarcasm.

The doctor was not impressed, however, with her knee walking, even after I pointed out what a hit it was at parties. And although I argued strongly - and surprisingly - that it wasn't necessary, Clara now has an appointment for a neurological evaluation next week. And maybe an orthopedic evaluation after that. That one I think may be necessary. If someone was asking me.

And somehow this bulldozing by the doctor to get her evaluated has brought a whisper of worry into my consciousness, where none was before.

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Yesterday, I went for a test called a sonohystogram. It's like an ultrasound you have in your first trimester, but without the excitement of looking for a heartbeat. And it also involved some other steps which I will spare you. But suffice to say it was lovely in the way that only having your feet up in stirrups can be. Anyway, they found a polyp. A small polyp. And I guess they will have to remove it or something. We are going to discuss that on Monday.

This discovery makes me genuinely happy. It is exactly the outcome I had been praying for. I had this test because of some troublesome "womanly" problems I had been having. I'll spare you the details on those as well. Because I am nice like that. But finding a problem, means finding a solution, which should make things better for me.

It also makes me think of Clara' situation in a slightly different light. Because if she does have an issue preventing her from walking, than maybe finding that out would be a blessing as well. Because we could address it, and her quality of life would improve.

Or maybe she's just impossibly stubborn and likes walking on her knees. Which I still think is a strong possibility.

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Ben is finally potty trained. Yes, he is almost four three-and-a-half. And don't ask me for advice, because nothing I did seemed to make a bit of difference. He did it, on his own, when he was ready. Which was something I knew but forgot when I, once again, found myself caught up in the world of kid comparisons. You would think I would know better by now.

If you really want advice, that's it: they'll do it when they are ready, and in the grand scheme of things it makes no difference if they do it at 2-and-a-half or 3-and-a-half or 5. So go worry about something else.

But now I am down to one in diapers. Hallelujah.

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Brandon is grounded. Possibly for eternity. And the most disturbing part is that he no longer seems to care. I don't know what to do with that. But it scares me. More than defiance, or sulking. So pray for him, will ya? I'm counting on God to pick up the reigns on this one. Because I'm out.

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Lastly, blogging is barely on my radar right now, as apparent by my measly one post a week. So please forgive my semi-absent status, or rejoice in it.

Either way works for me.

The most schizophrenic blog entry ever.

I am in a dark place right now. A place I would never admit to most people I know. Yet, I long to write about it here, to lay bare the ugliness of my heart to the blogosphere and let it be soothed by your balm of wisdom and commiseration and intuitive words. I have found that soul-baring posts are good for my soul. It takes time for me to pour myself out into words and make certain that those words are honest - as honest as I can stand - and unambiguous. The process itself of defining my thoughts, setting my emotions into boxes neat enough to be labeled with tags like 'despair' or 'inadequacy', is therapeutic. Nailing down the swirling angst to portray what I think, how I really feel, so I can give it a shape. A name. A word. It's journaling at it's finest. And here, in this place, the journal talks back with a voice of acceptance that is unique to those who don't really know us.

But oh, all that introspection, and the subsequent expression takes time. And all the time I have - all I have had for weeks - is a few borrowed moments while older children are occupying younger ones, and dishes sit congealing on the counter.

(But to keep from being cryptic, and sounding all coy, I'll just tell ya...this parenting gig. It's kicking my tail friends. Kicking. My. Tail. And I am finding myself constantly praying. And looking around for a life preserver.)

But instead of that mess, I am going to write about the frivolous and the happy, because, quite simply I feel the urge to write something. It nags at me when I don't. And those topics are easy, and quick. And like the rest of my neglected children, I would rather give my blog some superficial attention than none at all. And because writing about the happy moments is, in itself, a kind of therapy. Avoidance therapy. I know it well.

In fact, I am going to write about snow, again. Because it snowed on Saturday, again! I can feel the collective eye rolling from my Yankee and Canadian readers. (I know! Can you believe people all the way in Canada read this stuff?) But really, Y'all..snow! Twice in one week. In Georgia! It was like a bona fide miracle. There were songs of praise to Jesus being lifted up by four foot people all over the state.

And even more gloriously, this time The Man was off work for the great event. And he took Ben outside for two entire hours of snowtastic fun while Clara and I watched from inside the house. They built a snowman. And had snowball fights. And would you believe that because of this miracle of nature, and The Man's remarkable endurance for snowtime activities with a three-year-old, I actually got to take a bath and a shower in the same day? Without a single knock at the bathroom door, for either. Not even one.

Now that truly was miraculous. And you can bet I was singing my own praises right along with the four foot crowd.

And in the process of this soap and water windfall, I finished a book. Reading is another thing I haven't had much time for lately and I was starting to think my literary list for 2008 was going to read:

"Started Odd Thomas, review coming in 2009."

But I finally finished it. And it was a huge departure from anything I would normally read. I can't imagine why I put it on my reading list to start with. I can't even watch 24 without having nightmares. I am bewildered by the sudden burst of valor that inspired me to take on Dean Koontz. The plot wasn't terribly original. A man who sees dead people - where have I heard that before? But the endearing first person voice and the quirky characters gave it heart, and even humor. Overall I enjoyed it, even if I did have to put it down at one point and run, scampering, to my husband for protection. And even if he did laugh at me. And offer to protect me, from my big scary book. Even so, I still devoured those last several chapters like a pint of New York Super Fudge Chunk. And that's saying something.

And now I have one book to put on my list for 2008. My accomplishments are overwhelming.