Shoo Lie Loo

Snakes??

So yah, I recently heard that a friend of mine has a mom living a few streets over. She has an old house, not unlike the one that I live in.

Difference? She has snakes in her basement!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now, living geographically where we do, I realize that poisonous snakes are a one in ten million chance. However, a slithering, tongue-lashing, zero-legged reptile of ANY kind in my house or even in my yard will probably result in an instantly fatal cardiac arrest for me.

I can't explain my fear of snakes. I've never been bitten by one. I did have one slither across the path at Shabbona State Park when I was out walking with my mom when I was a kid, and, yah, it scared the snot out of me.

And my dad, being a conservationist, would find random animals. I once verbally requested that he put a garter snake in a bucket for me. I was determined to make friends with it. It was small, and it was non-violent. Until it lurched at me (like any wild animal would). I picked it up. I let it roll along my arms as I squeamishly tried to love it. I could do turtles with ease (and great love). Frogs - no prob; would seek them out at twilight. Salamanders, a bit slimy but doable. Toads - hated their pee, but didn't mind them and loved to marvel at their lumpy backs.

Somehow, though, I never got around to loving snakes.

A few weeks ago, I was delivering Hogwash to an acquaintance. I dropped the bucket off on her porch and we were chatting.

As I turned to leave, I noticed a small garter snake slither beneath her bushes. Well, that was all it took for me to high-tail it to my vehicle (ignoring the yard completely and walking into the street to access my van). I did the whole girly squeal and expedient tippy toe walk of someone who's about to set off dynamite! I haven't seen a snake since, but now, I'm convinced they are all around me...

So hubby, who's at a terrible new job and experiencing lung problems because of it, will be set on  a quest to first scour our ol' basement for any non-legged friends and then seal any potential access points. I'd be naive if I thought mice and bugs can't make it into our old house. Thank God we have three cats (two of which seem to somewhat care). I understand that cat saliva is poisonous to snakes?? Hallelujah!

Anyhoo, a spider or an earwig can surprise me. Even a mouse. Even a RAT! I think I'd live thru the initial shock. But a snake....that's worth calling 911!! So please, let this new/old house be snake free. I have no evidence to support any snakes living here, but, I'm also not willing to take any chances!

CHOMP

 

The Different Drummer

Have you heard the phrases "he marches to his own beat" or "he dances to a different drum"?

I think that, if explored more closely, every person on this planet would apply.

Sometimes, I think we jump to conclusions about "different drummers". We automatically assume that they are "special" and need extra attention. Sometimes even psychiatric intervention.

While I'm definitely NOT advocating against child psychiatrists, because I truly believe they serve a real and important purpose, I am suggesting that some children may be placed in a category of "specialness" when all they really need is support during those awkward, "not-like-my-neighbor's kid" phases.

To put it more simply, I guess I would have to classify myself as a "different drummer".

I wasn't into all the same things as other kids my age. Sure, I had Barbies and Cabbage Patch Kids that I loved without question.

But did I play with them the same way? No. I would let my Cabbage Kid watch Lady and the Tramp on VHS (old-school, of course) and fast-forward thru the "naughty parts"....as if there were any.

My Barbies all had very distinct names and would sunbathe outside a large cooking bowl that served as a swimming pool. And when they weren't sunbathing, they were having their heads shaken back and forth, some sort of weird childhood compulsion of mine.

I'd use my dolls to create fantastical stories about a life I dreamed of, complete with mansion, butlers and maids. And I'd do this for hours as I flapped my hands (a sign of concentration mixed with creativity, first diagnosed by my mom and later confired by a psychiatrist -- something that I also grew out of.)

I also didn't know that music existed outside of Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, Juice Newton, The Oak Ridge Boys, Dottie West, and, of course, The Chipmunks. That was until my friend Sonja introduced me to her new album with "Beat It" by Michael Jackson.

To be quite honest, I was astonished that such music existed. I could NOT believe my ears! It wasn't that my parents were depriving me....they just didn't listen to mainstream pop on the radio. Yet here I was listening to something so different from what I had always known.

Kids today, in my honest opinion, are being judged before they even have the chance to express who they really are. I believe that these "special kids", offered an unwavering support, will grow up to be architects, artists, musicians, physicists, writers, philanthropists, paleontologists, conservationists (Albert Einstein was a weirdo to many....so was Mozart and so was DaVinci) because their interests evolve significantly around a world that we, as parents, may not be able to visualize. Too often, I believe, we are caught up in our own expectations of what our children "should be". And we expect that they will conform to "societal norms". If not, they are "extra-special citizens" when they are grown...and they are often left out of or only get an honorary mention in the family Christmas letter. Until they have breeched the gap and "made it".

I guess my plea to all parents, including myself, is to let your child be his or herself, providing adequate discipline and support, of course.

We can't change what is inherently part of their psyche. We can only pray that they find support and guidance along a safe path to that which fascinates them.

No one wants their child to be hurt, though it happens to each of them. And, of course, no one wants their child to be thought of as "different". And no child wants to be judged by their parents for being "different". It is also inherent that each child born of this earth, with the exception of a rare few special-needs kids, be accepted by their parents and achieve parental approval.

But is it because we care about our child or because we are concerned about our parenting?

So long as our children steer clear of drugs, alcohol and other mind-altering substances, why not  let them be exactly who they are? No amount of pressuring a child into medical school, if the child hates science and math, will result in a happy outcome.

I'm far from a perfect parent. In fact, I told hubby today that I was a "loser parent" because I had not listened enough to my own daughter as she screamed and growled angry protests thru bedtime after not being read a chapter out of her auntie's book.

But I think I do have one leg up on being a "different drummer" myself. I realize that all of these situations really fast-forward to who my daughter will be. I may not understand her today, but forcing her to conform will only wind up in arguments and possibly even resentment. And I desire a lifelong, strong, communicable relationship with her. And with my son.

My closing argument is that, if your son or daughter steps out of line and dances to their own beat, try cherishing and even celebrating that. The world is too full of "normies" anyway. So, why not have your child be a true stand-out? Who knows? Maybe you're in the throes of raising a future Nobel Prize winner.... :)

Just...sayin...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring Cleaning and Spring Savings Tips

Courtesy of knowledge I've gained from my good friend Kelly Franklin...some awesome ideas on how to save money by making your own cleaning products...

Window Cleaner

Supplies Needed: 1 spray bottle, dish soap, water, squeegee (optional)

1.) Add three drops of your favorite dish soap to your bottle.

2.) Fill with water.

3.) Shake, shake, shake!

*Dish soap is supposed to leave glasses and dishes spot-free. It works just as well on windows and mirrors! If you have a Squeegee, that works best to get a really streak-free window or mirror. However, I've used paper towels, and they also work well. My sister-in-law recommends newspaper, too.

Wood Cleaner/Dusting Spray

Supplies Needed: 1 spray bottle, Murphy's Oil or any other floor cleaner, water, old rag

1.) Add two or three squirts of Murphy's Oil to your spray bottle.

2.) Fill with water.

*Murphy's Oil is obviously intended for wood surfaces. It gives it a sheen and also protects the surface. However, you don't need as much if you are just dusting your shelves. So this spray works nicely to shine up your wooden furniture, shelves and even spot-clean your floors.

Counter Cleaner

Supplies Needed: 1 spray bottle, white vinegar, water, old rag

1.) Add 1/4 cup vinegar to your bottle.

2.) Fill with tap water.

*Vinegar is a natural disinfectant that is also dirt (ha - pun intended) cheap. If you don't care for the smell of vinegar, keep these two facts in mind: 1. the smell only lasts a short time and 2.) you can add essential oil to the spray to mask the vinegar smell.

Bathroom Cleaner

Supplies Needed: 1 spray bottle, bleach, water, old rag

1.) Add 1/4 cup bleach to your spray bottle.

2.) Fill with water.

*Bleach is a timeless agent used in killing the really tough stuff. This spray works very well on sinks, toilets and showers. If you are not a fan of bleach, you can actually cut the amount in the spray down by half - just let it sit longer so that your surfaces are truly disinfected.

Dingy Whites

Supplies Needed: lemon juice, sunshine

1.) Add 1/2 cup of lemon juice to your washing machine's rinse cycle.

2.) For added whiteness, hang your whites on a clothesline in the sun.

*The acidity in lemons is infamous for gently lightening many things. I thought this was a super way to get old t-shirts that have lost their brightness to shine once again.

Other great disinfecting agents:

citric acid (think citrus fruits), thyme, tea tree oil, baking soda (acts as a super-duper sink and toilet cleaner), mouth wash (if it kills the bacteria in your mouth, it'll kill pretty much anything)

Inspiration Needed

Just got this miniature roll-top desk.

I was perusing the spray paints at Wal-Mart tonight, but, alas, they were scant.

I need suggestions, pics, pins on Pinterest...!

I Cannot Believe This...

As I continue to "de-clutter" our house for the month (today I sold quite a bit, thank goodness), I was stressed out, grinding teeth, fretting about chaos and mess...basically, status quo.

We happened to need to make a delivery to a mom who had purchased items from me from a local swap site. She doesn't have a car, yet she was getting my "nice" items at a steal....

When she texted me her address, I immediately froze and mentally remarked "Chris will be going with me to this part of town or he'll have a kitten fit!"

So, after we all came home from our various activities, we loaded up the van, and Chris drove us to a part of town with which I was not familiar. It was also after dark.

I texted the woman who had purchased a toddler backpack and toddler giraffe costume from me to let her know where we were.

She replied that she lived closer to the laundromat.

Well....in my stubborn, arrogant way, I replied via text that we were staying where we were and would meet here in a few minutes.

In the background, Lulu and Henry were whining in simultaneous cries about being hungry and bored and wishing they were home. Henry even said "This is the worst trip ever!" (We'd been gone from home for less than 10 minutes....)

Both Chris and I were at boiling points.

We waited very inpatiently and annoyed while this woman came to claim her bargains.

And then, we saw her.

A young mom with three very small children dressed in coats and grasping sippy cups, toddling alongside her.

This wasn't a case of laziness.

Nor was it a case of greed.

This was a young, single mom with three beautiful children with runny noses for whom she had purchased these items. And I immediately felt like the biggest jag-a-muffin who walked the planet.

I gave her the bag and timidly took her money. I asked her middle child, who tried to follow me, for a sip of juice. We laughed. I apologized profusely. What a damn FOOL I had been!!! How dare I judge someone I didn't know and then have the audacity to ask her to walk nearly a quarter mile in the dark to pick up....not drugs or alcohol...treats for her kids.

Tonight, this same woman purchased a pair of shoes from me which I had paid nearly $30 for when Lucy was five. They are nearly brand new, as she never wore them. I have decided to give them to her. She doesn't know yet, and I hope she is not embarrassed. I think I will just hand her the bag and wink. :)

Anyhoo, the moral of this story has absolutely NOTHING to do with me.

It's the fact that, after explaining the situation to those two chronic back seat complainers (kids have no money or toys, probably only a little food, no Wii games, etc.), I got prayers for the family from Henry that they receive food and water and toys and blankets and Wii games and we got volunteerism of some of their most beloved toys from both of them!!!!!!!!!

What had begun so annoyingly turned out to be such a teachable moment!!!!! I was crying openly in the van, telling them how proud I was of each of them. Chris, I think, was also in tears. All the frustration in my heart turned to gladness that they are such loving children. They thought Mommy and Daddy were being boring, but they realized that we were helping families in need, if even in a small way.

So, if the snow doesn't kill us tomorrow, I have a stuffed frog Henry wishes to donate along with Lucy's Polly Pockets.

God bless children and their humble, innocent hearts....I wish we were all like them, all the time.

 

 

 

Remodeling My Resolutions

For those of you who have been following my blog (thank you, by the way - big hugs to you), it's no secret that I'm a fan of the book The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, the best birthday gift my mom has ever given me. Without having read that book, I might not even be keeping a blog semi-faithfully.

Each month, Rubin experiments with new ways to increase happiness. And some of them are ridiculously simplistic.

Decreasing clutter, for example. To some, living in chaos is no big deal. But to many (arm raised high in the air here!), it adds layer upon layer of stress until you're heaped with confusion and feelings of defeat.

After years of living in such chaos, your mind and body adjust - really, we just give up (humans are remarkably adaptable - I default to the episodes of Hoarders where humans live for years with no running water or electricity and somehow survive amidst the jaw-dropping piles of human waste and trash bags).

While Chris and I are not hoarders, neither of us are blessed with very orderly brains. We each deal with a very messy room in a different way:

Example A (Chris): calmly gathers the clutter into a box, bin, tote, bag or hamper and shuffles it to another room to be dealt with at a later time. Then relaxes in giant comfy leather recliner to unwind from the stressors of the day.

Example B (Kimm): stands in the middle of the room, arms at side, fingers twiddling madly, eyes scurrying here and there, licking lips, completely confused amidst the mess as to where or how to start; Kimm then storms around the house spouting out frustration at the mess while feeling utterly incapable of doing anything about it.

Now, I'm not saying either example is bad....they just don't work!

I had set February, my first full month as a stay-at-home-mom, as "De-Clutter De House Month". Little did I know I'd be down sick for a week with pneumonia and that Lucy would follow immediately for days with a viral stomach bug.

And why....oh why....did I pick the shortest month of the year to defeat this Goliath (or at least buy him and the Philistines some lunch to talk out our differences, ha ha)??

Even with the extra day, being Leap Year, it's the busiest month in our family's calendar year! We have birthdays coming out of our ears, Valentine's Day AND our wedding anniversary!

So, looking at one of the four calendars I keep updated on my iPhone today while I removed more clutter from the house (I'm selling unused clothes and other goodies on a local swap site), I realized I had to be insane. My living room is piled with stacks of stuff that I've either donated to charity or sold online that has yet to be delivered. Organized chaos for me because I know exactly which stack goes where and to whom. But it's still there until it's been picked up or delivered!

And that could literally take the rest of the month. And that is just the stuff that's lying around in boxes. I've scarcely gone thru the masses of books and toys the kids have outgrown or the random rick rack a house somehow seems to conceive the longer you live in it.

My embarrassing "before" pic of my home office....it looks quite lovely compared to now! Right now I'm just tossing whatever can't be dealt with (think back to Example A) to shut behind a closed door. But sadly, I really doubt there will be an "after" pic before the month ends. My project room/office/creative hideaway will probably still be a messy shell. Just hopefully not as much as it is now.

And here's the clincher...the part where a clinicallly A.D.D. mind could turn to hoarding....I have an antique miniature rolltop desk that I just bought for a steal that I cannot WAIT to get my hands on!!

And a velvet-lined wooden jewelry box.....

And there's still this sewing table....

And the antique magazine rack....

And my antique mailbox.....

I have plans for all of these things, big plans! But I can't get to them if I literally can't "get to them"!

So I must continue to forge the path to a funtional home. I'm not looking to be a picture straight from a 1950s issue of Better Homes and Gardens. I'm certainly not STUPID. But I'd like to be able to find things on a fairly regular basis, to walk thru rooms without staring at small "to-do" piles and, most importantly, to set a very good example of responsibility for our children.  

 

 

 

What We Want...

versus what God has in store for us are often very different.

In my early 20s, I was told by a Harvard-educated fertility doctor that I could not have children without the use of significantly invasive procedures (Google "I.C.S.I.")

When my husband and I met and made a covenant that we would be together forever and subsequently produced a child (with no medical intervention whatsoever), we were honestly shocked and thrilled. I remember so vividly nearly passing out in the bathroom when the pregnancy test read positive. This was NEVER supposed to happen; it couldn't be happening. I had put all my stock in a MAN (that fertility doctor)!

And it wasn't a faint line - it was blaringly obvious that we were going to have a child. As if screaming to us (me, mostly) that we don't always know "the plan". Actually, I'm learning that we never know "the plan". Even though we can see what's right in front of our faces, we are blind to the bigger, more important aspects of life.

From that moment forward, that blessed babe was known to us as "Junior". We had no idea whether it was a boy or a girl. We just knew, with a mix of exhiliration and terror (like the kind you get when you're on a roller coaster and you're throwing your arms up in the air, unsure if it's fun to be terrified or because everyone else is doing it), that we were about to become parents. I had no idea, at the time, how far along I was, because, again, I had so foolishly and whole-heartedly believed doctor.

That was early December of 2004. We told my folks. We told Chris' folks - even presented them with a tiny baby-sized stocking to hang for Christmas. Everyone was super excited, including me (despite waning morning sickness and that general "pregnancy fog").

Fast-forward to January 6, 2005. We went in for an ultra-sound of Junior. I had had some very minor spotting that morning, which is often very normal, but the OB thought it might be best to have it looked at, especially since they couldn't exactly gauge how far along I was.

Chris and I will never forget that day. When we arrived in the ultra-sound lab, we were both excited and nervous. At first, the tech was friendly; she soon became stoic. She said not a word as she passed the wand over my pelvis and squinted at the screen. This happened over and over again.

We weren't sure what to expect, but we at least expected a little picture of the fetus or to hear the healthful drumming of a heartbeat. When asked the tech about this, the tech said "Ohhhh, you wouldn't get a pic at this exam." I thought that meant that I was too early for them to give me something suitable for a scrapbook. I would've taken anything - even a little dot on a black ultra-sound print-out. Chris and I know so much better now why we didn't get the pic or hear more than a few words from the tech.

After being told to wait in the waiting room for the radiologist to review the results of our ultra-sound, we were then told to go home -- the OB would call us instead. Well, in my mind, if something was wrong, they would have kept us and told us right then.

Naively we went home, without a word of what the ultra-sound showed; we thought we just had to wait for the MD to tell us how he/she was doing. I'm not sure what we thought on the drive home, but for me, it was a mixture of confusion and excitement.

Huddled on the couch, promised a call from the OB, we waited. And the minutes ticked. We chattered endlessly, nervous chatter, not sure what was going on and not sure we wanted to know.

And, when the phone finally rang, a female doctor that I did not know told me, in the most casual manner, "Well, you lost the baby. Don't worry, this happens all the time, except you were a little further along. You were measuring at 10 weeks, although the fetus has been gone for some time. See your regular OB tomorrow, and we'll go from there."

Go from there?

To where?

Well, we crumbled into each other's arms. This baby, for whom we had already bought two white ducky sleepers and started the baby name debate, was gone. POOF... Without a trace, and without a reason. And so suddenly.

Here I had been assured by a doctor that I was infertile. God had made it otherwise.

And then, God took the baby away.

Of course, then I thought it was me. Did I do this or not do that? I was in nursing school, and I thought maybe the pressure took its toll. Did I drink alcohol before I knew I was pregnant, since it had snuck up on us? Should I have eaten kiwi fruit instead of apples? The list goes on and on as mothers blame themselves over and over...

Then there were very brief phone calls to excited grandparents just to break their hearts - Chris had to do this, as I remember, as I was too devastated to speak. He was also awash with tears and terrible sorrow, and no one had a dry eye.

The next morning, on January 7th, we met Dr. Josupait, the OB who I had planned my original first prenatal visit with. I remember his big blue eyes that wrinkled pleasingly when he smiled. He was tall and lanky and exuded kindness - nothing like the horrible doctor who had to deliver the news to us the day before.

He sat next to us and, without ever having met me before, put a gentle, reassuring hand on my knee.

"You did the hard part....you conceived! And it was a viable fetus!! Something just wasn't right, and your body helped you and the baby. It's believed that 50% of women miscarry at some point, and early pregnancy tests are upping that number daily."

"Did I do something, doctor? Did I not do something??"

"NO! There is nothing you could have done to stop this from happening. And I have no doubt that you two will go on to have a healthy baby."

"How long do we have to wait?"

"Well, there's debate about that - and my side of the debate says 'whenever you are ready'." Gosh, I loved this doctor!! What was an awful situation was being managed with kindness, humor and compassion.

Thru further education with Dr. J, we learned that the spotting was not related to the miscarriage. He called it a "missed miscarriage". The baby had died, my body had not yet reacted (which was why I still felt oddly pregnant) and that he strongly suggested a d & c (dilatage and curettage) to remove the fetus, as he felt the fetus was too developed to deliver at home safely.

My mind swam with confusion. But, with Chris by my side, we agreed to the operation.

We were then sent home to get through the weekend, as the surgery was planned for Monday.

When I asked Chris how he felt that weekend just now, he said, "Miserable. It was the worst weekend of my life." We drove around and looked at houses and day-dreamed to pass the time. I felt like an alien lifeform with Junior in a womb that was now like a tomb. I felt completely not of myself.

And on Monday, January 10th, Dr. Josupait took Junior from me and that was that. Physically. We never saw him or her. We didn't ask for any testing. We were too numb to think of such things, and, quite honestly, we wanted to move on.

When I woke from anesthesia and propped myself up on my elbow, I immediately burst into tears. What had been such a huge dream had turned into a nightmare, and the dream of Junior was really over. There were no flowers or balloons or cards. Chris and I did this completely alone.

The nurse handed me juice and graham crackers - yeah, that makes up for the loss of my child. God love them, they all did their best, and they had no control. God only knows - maybe Junior would have been born with a defective heart or lung. I'll never know. Neither will Chris.

What few people in my family knew, save poor Christopher, was that, when this happened, I was two weeks away from starting my OB rotation for nursing school. And for those two weeks, I silently agonized about how I was going to make it through. I already resented every pregnant woman who passed  me. Now I had to write care plans and provide for the medical needs of countless pregnant women and their newborns for eight long weeks.

I watched babies being delivered, helped new moms learn to nurse their babies, viewed photo albums of deceased infants who had been born stillborn. All while my body, mind and soul grappled silently with our loss. I felt it a sign of weakness to even flinch about such things. It was done.

Agonizing months passed by with no more positive tests, with Dr. Josupait's words ringing in my ears.... I was sure that another human doctor had lied to me, had let me down.

And, on Mother's Day, I spontaneously broke down into a mess of tears and grief in the card section at Wal-Mart as I chose a card for Chris' mom, all because my eyes somehow trained on a Mother's Day card for an expectant mom. That should have been ME.

Until June. I took two tests - one had a faint line, but Chris (who admits he was probably protecting himself) believed it was a false test.

So I took one of those new-fangled "Pregnant" or "Not Pregnant" digital tests, which had just come on the market. And me, being melodramatic and also loving a good surprise, told Chris that I couldn't figure it out. So I handed it to him and the word "Pregnant" was blinking on the screen.

I'd like to say that we were both over-joyed. Yes, we were happy. Dr. J was right - we'd been able to accomplish the "hard part". But now would we go thru another loss?

Dr. J was awesome - he had me in for an ultra-sound at eight weeks, and the tech from his office spoke joyfully to us the whole time (after we quickly recanted our previous trauma and how, if there was something wrong, we needed her to give us a sign). Her first words upon finding the fetus were spoken as quickly as she could get them out -- "and there's the HEART BEAT!!!!!!!!"

Every parent who has ever witnessed an ultra-sound knows that hearing that heartbeat is the first of many miracles. And we left the office with not only our first ever ultra-sound picture, but also a print-out of the cardiac strip.

Life moved on slowly - creeping so very painfully slowly to the three-month mark, where we believed we might be in the clear. And wouldn't you know it? At exactly 12 weeks while sitting in orientation for my new nursing position, I started to spot. It was Junior all over again. I was a terrible mess.

I called Dr. J who tried to sound upbeat and to reassure me that this was common but scheduled me anyway for an emergency ultra-sound that same day.

I cannot begin to express the terror I felt going there.

Despite our terror, it turned out to be a super special day! Not only was the baby fine and the placenta placed appropriately, but we got the best ultra-sound picture ever - where little Lucy's head looks like Charlie Brown's! And that's where she got her nickname for the rest of the pregnancy - "Charlie".

For the next six months, Lucy kept us on our toes (a true sign of times to come). I would randomly gush massive amounts of blood, for some unknown reason, and Chris and I made many trips to the ER. I remember we celebrated New Year's Day there - hooked up to a fetal monitor and getting an IV full of terbutaline (to stop contractions).

Despite these trials, Lucy is a living, loving, adorable, God-given miracle -- they really do happen. And if you read her birth story, you'll be even more convinced that "Coincidence is just God's way of being anonymous."

How thankful we are for her. Her quirks and all. She is precious to us in every way possible. Yes, I've been over-protective. Who wouldn't be, after what we went through?? But watching her grow, I have so many dreams for her - and all of those dreams are that she gets to live her dreams, whatever they may be.

And now we have our Henry, whose "larger than life personality" and infectious laugh and hysterical "kid-ecdotes" keep us smiling every day. I will be writing his birth story very soon, too, as part of my plan to de-clutter and organize. And keeping these memories fresh instead of stored away in a mental filing cabinet is part of this process.  Though there are great pics of his birth experience at my other site: www.dropshots.com/kimmberli. Just go to May/June of 2007.

God is good - He gave and entrusted to us what we thought we didn't deserve to have. May we teach them and guide them in His glory.

For Lucy's incredible but totatally true birth story, visit:

http://mamaonajourney.typepad.com/restoring-our-victorian-h/2012/02/the-story-of-lucy-and-dominik.html

 

 

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Birthdays on a Budget

I thought I'd share the tidbits of information that I learned in my quest to make Lulu's sixth birthday party special while also cutting some financial corners.

When first I set out, I did the obvious - I Googled "birthdays on a budget".

BAM! Ideas everywhere!! Some were inexpensive but took an outrageous amount of work. Others were super creative and ridiculously simple - right up my alley!

One single mom on a budget posted thru a Yahoo! site that she decided the best party she could throw for her child was one where she was able to give her something she rarely had to give....all her attention and time. I thought that was super touching.

Her child, born in the warmer months, was able to have an indoor/outdoor party. They did everything from play with sidewalk chalk to run thru the hose to make pet rocks (with supplies bought from a local dollar store). Also, all the party favors were "prizes" the kids won and which the mom had wrapped up special, also from the dollar store.

She said that, years later, her daughter's friends still talked about the best birthday party they'd ever had.

Initially I thought the pet rocks were a super idea! But when I thought more about it, I decided to have the kids make homemade birdfeeders (something my kids and I had done at the park district some years ago). Supplies needed: half a bagel per guest, peanut butter, twine and birdseed. All the kids did was spread the peanut butter on the bagel half, tie the twine thru the loop of the bagel to make a hanger and either dip the buttered bagel in birdseed or sprinkle it on by hand. (Word of advice on this - I checked with every parent at drop-off to make sure their child didn't have a peanut allergy.)

After the birdfeeders were finished, they were bagged in paper bags marked with each child's name on it. We hung our's outside, and it was gone by the next morning.

We also did a "prize walk". (Similar to "musical chairs" but without the risk of bodily harm as five and six-year-olds slammed into each other to get to a chair.) Also, instead of one winner, everyone was a winner.

We marked out a circle on the floor and used painter's tape to put down 15 numbers. We started the music, and then the kids walked around in a circle until the music stopped. Once the music stopped, the kids all landed on a number. A number was drawn from a box, and whoever was standing on that number received their prize. 

There was minor grumbling each time a number was called, as the rest of the kids were still in the game. They cheered up when they learned that there was a "Last Kid Standing" prize that went to the last player left.

Another cost-saver was to make homemade goodie bags. I had Lulu and little brother Henry decorate plain brown paper lunch sacks with markers. I then paper punched two holes on either side of the bag, with the edge slightly turned down, and strung colored ribbon thru as a "handle". I used green ribbon for girls and black ribbon for boys (so the boys wouldn't be getting pink poodle backpack clip-ons and the girls wouldn't be getting triceratops bounce balloons, ha ha).

Instead of paper decorations from the party store, we strung Christmas lights to give the room a party atmosphere (though we did have some birthday dangling decor from years past that we added, but we did not buy anything new for the decorations). We used a really cute vinyl cupcake tablecloth that my mom had found on sale and had given to me for the cake table.

We also did a "mock celebrity photo shoot". This was my favorite part, though hubby had to run this in the other room. It gave the kids something to do while the "prize walk" was still going on, and it allowed the kids to really use their imagination.

How we did it: we suspended a white bed sheet on a wall as a backdrop and used an off-white blanket on the floor. We propped our camera on a tripod and played with lighting by using a garage work light. To diffuse the light, we used parchment paper (which is safe for use in the oven, so it was safe to use over the hot light). We had our kids gather costumes, props and accessories from around the house and put them in a laundry basket next to the backdrop. Each kid could then let their imaginations run wild. Some used a giant duck umbrella, others used microphones to pretend to be their favorite singers, some went all out and changed into fairy or princess costumes.

Our last budget-friendly choice was to make a homemade Oreo ice cream cake, an idea shared with me by my good friend Kelly.

I, who do not cook, thought it tasted really good! How we did it: six ice cream sandwiches lined the bottom of the pan; added a heavy layer of Cool Whip, crushed Hershey bars and chocolate sauce; added another layer of six ice cream sandwiches and topped it off with an extra-heavy layer of Cool Whip and crumbled Oreos.

So, would we host 13 four, five, six and seven-year-olds at our house again?

If you'd have asked us that day, we'd have said "Probably not!!", only because our backs were sore from the preparations, etc.

However, the kids were kept busy, there was no fighting or tears, and everyone went home safe and happy. I would say yes - I would do it again. Of course, I got to be creative AND I got to involve my kids. Those were two big pro's for me. And Lucy really enjoyed herself, which was, of course, the whole purpose of the day.

Below is a link to some pics of some of our ideas. I hope you find these helpful.

http://mamaonajourney.typepad.com/restoring-our-victorian-h/2012/02/birthdays-on-a-budget-1.html

 

 

Birthdays on a Budget

_{^{Lucy helping Daddy set up the lighting for the photo shoot before the party.}}

_{^{A shot of the gift bags - black ribbons for boys, green ribbons for girls.}}

_{^{A picture of the prize wheel - sorta looks like a clock.}}

Crafter's Delight

Love, love, LOVE this website - and all I wanted to do was find alternatives to peanut butter for making homemade bagel birdfeeders!

http://www.makeandtakes.com/

Henry's currently hooked on Angry Birds on my iPhone, and I really dislike wrestling with him everyday for control of it (sigh).

This website has a craft to make your own Angry Birds complete with the greedy pigs. You do it from yarn pom-poms, googly eyes and construction paper. And then you use disposable bathroom cups to set up Angry Bird scenes and then fire away! I can't wait to try this one with Henry!!

How to Gain a New Perspective

Another deliciously wonderful website for writers and readers that I've stumbled on. It's a great place to find quotes from your favorite authors or pundits directly relating to a subject that interests you (i.e. finance, religion, child-rearing):

http://www.bookrags.com

I don't have Walden Pond, like Henry David Thoreau. However, that doesn't mean I wouldn't want someplace to go where I can lose myself for a short while and come back to my life with a new perspective.

The past month has been laden with changes and challenges and questions. Most of all, this has truly been the beginning of the journey to find myself. (I'd tried this before, but I'd always found I had too little time to investigate me. I realize now that not knowing myself actually hurts others around me, so it's worth the investment.)

February is still "clean the clutter" month as part of my new resolutions. At first I thought it was just physical clutter. Baby clothes and gear, things I either bought or received that I've never used, items much better off at Goodwill where someone can make use of them, etc.

But, after a rather thought-provoking weekend, I realize that, in order to truly "clean the clutter", I first have to "de-clutter" my brain. For the past decade, it's been so jam-packed with stress and worry and fear and self-doubt and feelings of inferiority (as many of us experience) that I've been virtually paralyzed in my quest to "Be Kimm".

•  
  •  
    • (And yes, it is spelled with TWO M's! It may not have been when I was little, but it is a nickname! I've taken the liberty to add that second M almost 12 years ago, sometimes sporadically at first as I myself got used to it (since my full name is Kimmberli, not Kimberli), and it's going to stay!
      •  
        •  
          •  
            •  
              •  Ok, I'm climbing off that pedestal now....

Anyhoo, back to my original thoughts. I cam up with a crazy idea to take a road trip. Not sure to where, not sure when, etc. But it would be alone. Free of distractions, my own music blasting on the radio, a change of scenery (whether it be mountains or prairies or beaches or big cities). Something I have not done since I was at my zenith at the age of 18, busting thru the borders of a small town into the real world like a bucking bronco smashing thru his cage.

One of my most vivid memories when I first came back to Millington when I was 20 years old was how incredibly small it seemed!!! My childhood house was very small, but there was no shortage of old Victorians and large farmhouses scattered around microscopic now that I'd lived in big cities, ridden like a pro on subways, shopped at stores where the milk was organic and came in large, chilled bags, spelled "colour" instead of "color"  and savored Thai food.

I'll never forget steering onto the bridge over the Fox River when I came home for a visit - a bridge I'd crossed thousands and thousands of times since my birth on my way to Sandwich. It appeared to be so incredibly small, as if only one car and maybe a bike could cross it at the same time. This was, of course, an illusion of my eyes. But wow....this startling visual perspective took my breath away!! The river that once looked large and even a bit intimidating seemed little more than a large creek after having driven over the St. Laurence River in Quebec.

The whole moment was astonishing, to say the least. And it left a deep and lasting impact on my life. Which is why, even though I loved my hometown and think of all the blessings that can be found in a small alcove of the world where everyone knows everyone else, I will always encourage my children to expand their horizons as far as they can (and want). There is an entire world out there, full of mystery, intrigue and...spicy food.

Happy ponderings, everyone!!! :)

 

 

 

The Story of Lucy and Dominik

WARNING! The following story does contain some mildly graphic birth descriptions, in case you are faint of heart. Otherwise, enjoy this miraculously TRUE story!!

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Imagine two friends, friends since the day one recognized the other as sharing a Lifespan Psychology class with her at Waubonsee Community College as they were both getting their java fix at the BP Amoco at the corner of Route 34 and Orchard in Oswego.

 And, by that afternoon, the connection was made. Both were going to nursing school, having the same number of classes left to qualify for entry into ONE TOUGH PROGRAM, and – GASP – they lived in the same subdivision. Fate, I tell you!

 Petra accidentally locking herself out of her house (barefooted, mind you) as she strained to see Kimm’s house while the two were talking on the phone together to ascertain the distance, made it a friendship built on coincidence and humor. Which, Kimm believes, has benefited them during the most trying of times. That, and Riesling.

 

Friends whose relationship grew. They were married. They were suburban – heck, they were about to be medical professionals. The day the mail lady delivered their acceptance letters into the highly competitive nursing program at Waubonsee was another day that lives in infamy.

 Petra, who lived closer to the beginning of the mail lady’s route, received her big, certified acceptance envelope first. And, in tears, she called and asked if Kimm had received hers – she had been trying to call for some time and Kimm had been moseying around in the backyard with her dog. Petra then told her that the mail lady had informed her she had a similar envelope for 105 Eisenhower, Kimm’s former address. And so it was…

 Tears of shock, joy and relief followed. We had grown close. We were truly friends – after surviving A & P with Dr.’s Holmes and Martinez, who wouldn’t be?? Starting nursing school separately would be devastating. Besides, these two were clearly the most gifted students in the class (ha ha to any other classmates reading this).

 The next 2 years were grueling, both academically and personally. This is complicated, and really not worth anyone’s time as it is in the past, where it shall remain. Petra and Kimm now know the truth of what happened, and why they grew apart. It took many nights of wine drinking and intense conversations, but both realized there is a bond that will exist forever. They now have legitimate proof.

Some incredible fate brought these two friends back together (okay, actually it was an email from Petra to Kimm asking her how she was doing…thanks, Petra!) That swung a door wide open; the door to rekindling a broken friendship and bonding over swollen bellies.

 Petra had been laboring for several days – she was due February 24^th; Kimm was due February 15^th. Kimm spent time with Petra while Ken had to work.

 Poor Petra – she was the epitome of discomfort. She hadn’t slept or eaten. She was a mad mess. Kimm, who was used to being a mad mess, tried her best to comfort her.

 They walked around Fox Valley together to try to regulate the contractions. Inside, a deep jealousy was welling, though, because Kimm had JUST been released from a 4-month bed rest prison related to bleeding during her pregnancy. Multiple ER visits, terbutaline injections and call-ins to work finally made the doc pull the plug on Kimm’s newfound profession. What great timing, as she and Chris had just moved into their new house.

 The morning of Wednesday, February 1^st, dawned cold and blustery. Typical Chicago winter day. Kimm had an appointment with her OB/GYN at Edward to do an u/s – they said she was carrying big. It revealed a happy baby girl weighing in at about 7lbs, 8ozs – healthy and normal. No reason to induce (darn it). Just go home, walk some, rest some – relax, it’ll happen. But if the bleeding happens one more time, we are taking the baby.

 Fine. No problem, except that Kimm wanted to have this baby NOW. Chris goes back to work, Kimm goes to bed. Hey, pregnant women get that luxury. That and Filet o’ Fish sandwiches ( Petra ) and Twinkies (Kimm).

 1PM – the phone rings. NOT gonna answer it. Watching re-runs of Little House on the Prairie. Kimm sees that it’s Petra . UGH. Okay, better answer. Rolls her gimongous belly over to the phone and answers to….

 “Hey, it’s me….guess what? You’ll never guess…don’t be mad….I’m in labor.”

Jaw drops. Tears spring to Kimm’s eyes. Vice grip on the phone. Through gritted teeth, “Oh, really? How wonderful…I’m sure you’re so excited.”

 “Will you come visit? Please?”

 Well, the answer was obvious to Kimm. NO. She was going to lay in bed and scream and cry like a toddler (which Kimm now has experience with, and, yes, that is exactly how she was going to react). But reality set in. This was exciting. This was important. This was what a good friend would do – besides, she had been let off of bed rest, so why not??

 Kimm called her mother to share the news – she was admonished for even thinking she should be driving 25 miles in February when she was 80 months pregnant. But Kimm, with her stubborn side as strong as Petra ’s in many respects, said she would be fine. A call to Chris, Kimm’s hubby was met with “What’s the worst that can happen – you’re going to a hospital, after all?”

 As Kimm drove to the hospital, the song “Alive” by POD played. This is a very vivid and poignant memory. Because Kimm, who struggles severely with religious spirituality and claims Darwin knows the truth, prayed – for the first time in many, many years – that she would be happy for Petra and the birth of her new baby. It wasn’t that Petra was stealing her baby. She was having her own. And Kimm would be, too. Just not today. Just not now. And Kimm prayed for peace, serenity and excitement (and all that jazz).

 And when Kimm arrived at Copley, the very hospital she had been working at up until the time of her bed rest restriction, she nonchalantly told the nurses at the nurses’ station that, no, she wasn’t here to deliver. She was visiting a friend. Because at least 3 of them stood up when Kimm’s big belly came marching thru their doors.

 Into Petra ’s birthing suite. The Blues Brothers is playing on the TV. The happy couple was working on thank you cards from the baby shower.

 Petra is in epidural heaven, legs spread wide, encouraging the baby to make his move. Foley in place. Sonia, their dear family friend, was there to be the support and coach when Ken was lost in theatric quips. Again, through semi-gritted teeth, Kimm arrives. Wearing PJ pants and a sweatshirt. There are relatively awkward conversations. Partly because Kimm had been so absent from Petra ’s personal life for so long (of Kimm’s own unfortunate design) and also partly because Petra was in la-la land.

 Kimm doesn’t remember much of the conversation that took place; neither does Petra (again, reverting back to the epidural). All that is certain is that Kimm received a call on her cell from hubby Chris telling her that he might work late, if that was okay. Kimm said “Noooooo problem, I’ll be heading home in the next few minutes.” Then Kimm asked Petra the fateful question of what outfit she was planning to bring the baby home in. and after that, she was planning on heading home. It was about 5:30PM .

 “Oh, it’s in the suitcase there on the floor. It’s the blue one from Becky Exline. Ken, help her.”

 “No, no, I’m fine.”

 Kimm bent down to see this adorable outfit….light blue, maybe overalls?

 Then, like an old unwanted friend…..a sudden warm trickle, then a gush…followed by total bedlam. Kimm was familiar with this. This very thing had been happening to her for her whole nine months. However, the volume seemed a lot more intense.

 A mix of emotions and confusion in one. Kimm remembers stepping into Petra ’s bathroom telling everyone present that everything was fine, sorry for the problems. When clearly it wasn’t fine. There was a huge trail of blood and amniotic fluid leading to the bathroom and then everywhere IN the bathroom. As Ken puts it, “Kimm, you killed our room. It looked like a murder scene!”

 As Kimm is struggling to get a hold of her own emotions, she is dialing Chris at work and demanding he get there NOW (there being Copley – NOT the hospital where all Kimm’s prenatal work had been done). All the while, she is standing in an ever growing puddle of blood and amniotic fluid.

 Ken, being instinctively ER, comes in, assists Kimm into a wheelchair and calmly wheels her three doors down – to her own birthing suite. He knows what has happened. He is just concerned about the blood. A fetal monitor later, we know all is well. Blood is probably cervical irritation as they have already ruled out (again and again) placenta previa. He calmly calls Chris back on his cell phone (or at least this is the way Kimm remembers it) and instructs him to drive carefully – no worries. He places the cell phone to the fetal monitor so Chris can hear the heartbeat. All is well. (Kimm learns later that Chris made it from Morris to Aurora in record time.)

 All the while, poor Petra is laboring alone. AND wondering what’s going on with her friend. Being a labor and delivery nurse, this was agony for her.

 After that, both women are in an epidural-induced fog. Kimm did suffer through a 25-minute epidural insertion due to her darn crooked spine (and Chris nearly passed out from all the blood and amniotic fluid on his boot while he supported Kimm during its placement). She was also told she was dilated to 5 cm. Amazing after having been shut up tight that very morning before her u/s.

 It was a race.

 But who cared??

 Both girls were feeling mighty good.

 Dominik Josef Kozbiel entered our beautiful world on Thursday, February 2^nd, 2006 at 12:22am , 7 lbs, 12 ozs after his poor mother pushed and pushed and subsequently snapped her tailbone and had to apply suction (vac) to have him. He was born with a cone head, and he was slightly jaundiced. Nonetheless, both he and his mother were beautiful. They were the picture of gorgeous newborn baby and new mother, proud, dignified and ready to start the new journey. You can see how proud she was and is of him in every photo. Dom amazes us all every day with his incredible aptitude for puzzles and video games. Also, his speech is impeccable, and he is such a social butterfly!

 After 10 hours of labor and not progressing more than 5 cms, Dr. Druhan, whom Kimm had never met before, let alone shaken hands with, decided an emergency section was best. And there, incredibly, was a waiting line. Kimm still couldn’t believe she wasn’t being transferred to Edward to her beloved Dr. Josupait.

 At 3:17am , Lucille Margaret Ahasic joined life, weighing a teeny 6lbs, 6ozs. Beautiful dark hair, dark brown eyes and a serious expression. She was incredible from the word “go”. Unfortunately, a bout of hypotension and then an overdose of Zofran left Mama Ahasic from being engaged during the section. Kimm remembers very little. Her most vivid memories are of Lulu being carried to her by Chris for her to hold for the first time, but her eyes were bouncing from nystagmus, possibly a side effect from Zofran (an anti-nausea med commonly given during surgery) and, later, of holding Lu and walking around cuddling her (much later) while watching it snow outside. Kimm remembers Daddy's homemade Buffett CD and Lulu's receding  hairline. And how much the breast pump HURT.

 Truthfully, and without tooting their own horns, the hospital was a-buzz with the story of these two friends.

 After they were moved from labor and delivery, they were placed in rooms adjacent to each other on the post-partum unit. And the bond grew stronger. Learning to nurse. Learning to love. Learning to heal. It was all an incredible, life-altering experience. Plus Chris saw Petra with her booty up in the air trying to manage the pain from the broken tail bone….how do you EVER go backwards from that moment??

Dom had to stay because of his jaundice. Lucy had to stay because she was a section baby. But, they were born the same day, and they left the same day.

 Life for them will always somehow be intertwined, these two Groundhog Day babies. Who knows what the future holds for them, but it is certainly full of hope and opportunity. Which is what Petra , Ken, Kimm and Chris have decided they want for them -- that, and nothing but the very best.

 Hey, maybe February is the best month to have a baby? Who knows….

 

Monthly Challenges - February and March

As I hear the sounds of three young children bickering upstairs, I will quickly post my blog update to keep myself accountable.

Having just recently finished Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project, I'm challenging myself for the month of February to de-clutter, organize and clean my house. I've started today by hauling out three bags of trash and several bags of donate/sell stuff. I have a long way to go...but, it is only day one.

For March, I'm going with Rubin's recommendation to "write a novel in a month", based on a challenge she herself heard of and conquered. The goal is not to write something worth publishing but rather to get the stagnant creative waters once again flowing as I look around to see the world in a new way (as I look for scenes and plots, etc.).

So, off I go to prepare a snack for the hungry pack of wild youngsters upstairs and maybe tackle another couple of bags!

Cheerio!!

Organizing Your Homeschooling Day

Organizing Your Homeschooling Day.

For those of us about to homeschool, we salute you!

Actually, I'm online late at night, the only time I really have now, to browse homeschooling schedules and routines for preschoolers.

I found this page interesting and helpful.

I still have a lot of research to do before I'm comfortable.

I have 16 days until I am a full-time stay-at-home-mom with a four-year-old who is very used to daycare and structured learning. I never went to preschool, and, yes, I survived (preschool and daycare were not nearly as popular when I was a kid).

However, in the nearly six years that I've been a parent, I've never "not worked", save maternity leave.

So, herein lies my desire to find my identity as a full-time mom. Quickly!

I gave my notice in November, but I've stayed on a bit longer. Procrastination is not rampant in my gene pool, however, I seem to have picked up the recessive gene!