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)

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!!

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!

Christmas Wrappings...and Trappings?

It is this time of year where we are particularly vulnerable to "holiday freak-out syndrome".

Did we mail our cards in time, with perfectly matching stamps to our perfectly matching address labels? Did we buy gifts for everyone, including that long lost preschool friend named "Bucky" who once drew a big frowny face on our picture of our family? Did we send thank you cards to the hosts of any and all Christmas parties? Did we visit Santa? Did we visit Santa again? Did we tell Santa what our hearts' desires were? Did we go to the mall to be a part of the "holiday shopping experience"? Did we bake cookies? Did we trim a tree, real and/or fake? Did we string lights on every spare inch of landscaping and/or housing? Have we seen our children in at least one Christmas play or program? (For extra points, did we video tape it and then immediately upload it to FB or YouTube?) Did we purchase perfectly adorable matching PJs for the whole family for that one-time photo on Christmas morning? Did we buy a turkey? Or a ham? Or order catering? Did we watch every single holiday classic on TV? Did we hear Bing Crosby wish us a "White Christmas" 2,000 times????

Not me!

And not because I'm channeling Ebenezer Scrooge.

It's because I'm eternally and humanly flawed. 

Example: I may have gotten our Christmas cards out on time, but I still haven't done nearly 1/2 my shopping. This "Santa's Helper" paid her bills on the wrong cycle of paychecks. So, while our gas and water won't be shut off on a peaceful winter's morn, we can't finish our Christmas shopping until the next pay period - the Friday before Christmas, which is also only two days before Christmas this year. Can you imagine the crowd that I'll be joining? Well-meaning hubbies and college kids and last-minute "they-got-us-something-so-we-have-to-get-them-something"-ers.

And I love to shop for Christmas presents!! I really, honestly do! It's a guilt-free way to indulge on the important people in my life. And there's always that thrill where you find the perfect gift, that you know, undeniably, your loved one will adore.

So, given my circumstance, it's easy to think I might be down about the holidays.

Truth is, I'm quite excited!

This year, we have a flurry of activity going on Christmas Day, filled with our family! Yes, the whole day will be spent with the WHOLE family. It might include driving lots of miles and some quick-thinking and extra doses of patience when it comes to managing over-stimulated, tired kids, but it's ONE DAY A YEAR!!!! And it happens to be the most magical day, to my way of thinking, that there ever could be!

So those are the trappings that I mused about in my title. What of the wrappings?

One of the things that stands out to me so vividly from my own childhood was Christmas morning. Heck, what kids whose family celebrates Christmas doesn't have their own treasure trove of memories??

We had a small house - I'd estimate it to be about 800 square foot before we built on in the 1990s. I remember being woken by Butch, my older brother, at the crack of dawn. Ok - actually, dawn probably hadn't happened yet. It was awful early. But what better day or better reason to get out of bed than to see what Santa had brought????

So we'd go nudge the parents from their sound sleep, who'd then go get their coffee and join us next to the tree. Oh the waiting...the waiting!!! Because, when we first entered the living room and saw our gorgeous glowing tree stuffed with presents, the first thing that always came to my mind was "Santa was really, really here - and he really left us so many things!!!"

The packages - oh the boxes of all shapes! Oblong, square, rectangular - each snuggly wrapped in a colorful paper covered with dancing snowmen or smiling, pipe-smoking Santas, penguins with scarves, elves working on little wooden benches, Santa checking the naughty and nice list (which clearly I had dodged the naughty list at that point, seeing as how there was a bounty before me). Bright colors - reds and greens and golds and blues, snowflakes and ribbons and bows!!!

Could you imagine if Santa just left all our presents unwrapped in a heap under the tree??? The wrappings are nearly as much fun as the presents themselves! The mystery as to what's inside. And the thought that those magical Santa hands had placed these very presents under our tree while I was sleeping, no matter how hard I tried to stay awake...  And, Mom and Dad, I promise you and Santa - I never once woke up before there were presents already there! 

And then the stockings! We didn't have a chimney, but my mom somehow managed to adhere them to the walls. And they'd be stuffed to overflowing. My memory isn't always accurate (my mom thinks I invented half my childhood, ha ha!), but I recall there were two things that were always there: a stuffed animal peeking out over the top along with a plastic candy cane filled with either M & M's or Hershey's Kisses.

I don't recall as to whether or not my folks got presents. I was way too busy absorbed with my own Christmas fever to even look. However, as a parent, I now understand that that's really what the Santa theme is all about. I don't need Christmas presents - I enjoy watching everyone else enjoy what they are getting and watching their eyes filled with wonder and excitement.

Though not that it's been without its disappointments...

I remember for Lucy's third Christmas and Henry's second - Santa had spent quite the time carefully displaying beneath the tree a track of cars for Henry and a babydoll set with stroller, potty chair, mini-diaper bag, etc. for Lucy.

Perhaps it wasn't Santa's expectation, but it certainly was mine (and I daresay Chris'), that the kids would come bounding down the stairs in wild anticipation squealing and screeching over the toyland display he'd set forth!

Not so much...

It was more like Henry ran for his cars and set about quietly playing with them, with little concern for the other presents carefully arranged beneath the tree. And Lucy, my darling Lucy....she calmy approached her dolly set and went about playing with it as though these were her regular toys. Not one squeal amongst them. And it was a daunting chore to get them to open the rest of the presents, for which they held little interest. Why, some of Henry's we had to open for him. (sigh)

I remember my friend Mindy commenting on Dropshots, where we house many of our pictures, that "It isn't quite what you expect, is it?". She has twins around the same age as Lucy, so she surely understands.

Two years later, Santa tried again. This time, he set up for Henry more advanced car tracks where the cars sped at lightning speed and whirled around huge loops, and, for Lucy, a beautiful Georgia plantation-style dollhouse, taller than she was, complete with furniture and a family of adorable wooden dolls. Again...it was not what I had expected, but, again, I had the camera at the ready to capture their shocked and excited faces. (I regret to inform you that Lucy's dollhouse sits unplayed with in their toyroom - it would have been a dream toy for me, so I think I shall have to adjust my schedule to start playing with it myself one of these days, for I'll never get rid of it...)

Christmas is still not what I had anticipated it would be like, as it certainly doesn't seem to fit the magical memories that I have. Even with a four and a five-year-old, there is this attitude of "entitlement". Even though they've both had their very naughty days, they know in their hearts and minds that, even if Santa stands them up, they have two sets of grandparents who would never dare to do such a thing! :) So what's the matter if they bend their own rules every so often?

But alas, I'm becoming cynical again.

As of right now, both the children are en route to Grammy Ahasic's for a few days of unrequited spoiling as Chris and I work and get ready for the holiday. I have to admit, I'm thankful for the break. These few days before Christmas can be so hectic. And I don't want to fall back into those "Christmas trappings" and be-Grinch myself.

This will likely be my last post before the holiday, unless I find that I'm way ahead of schedule!

Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope that your holiday is beautiful, peaceful, joyful and filled with magic!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Homeschooling?

This is now old news, but I am resigning from my position in January to stay at home with our son, Henry, for the last few months that he is a pre-schooler.

Unknown to many, homeschooling has always been my dream. I want to teach to my childrens' interests. I want to take field trips to places that seem inconsequential to much of the world, and I want to find out what makes each of them "tick".  And I want to teach to that.

Example: when I found a large caterpillar last year, I captured it. We watched it spin a cocoon (which is what moths do vs. butterflies, who spin the lovely chrysallis). We had to move in the interim, but we learned everything we could about "Nopal", learning that he was an Emperor Moth and that he was unable to eat after emerging but only could reproduce for a short time.

One of my front porch ponderings tonight was, what do other parents think of homeschooling? Do you have resources that you recommend? Do you wish you hadn't homeschooled? Do you wish that you had? Have you had any interactions with homeschooling parents or children? How did it go?

In Kewanee, we are fortunate to have a fairly large homeschooling co-op which utilizes the YMCA for frequent gatherings to socialize the kids to give them a physical workout and regular social opportunities.

We also have a wealth of materials at our disposal. Why, even the local dollar store has an entire section devoted to schooling.

Ironically, many of the families of children with cancer that I have counseled have benefited from the resources that I, as a non-homeschooling parent, was able to access. Children who need allogeneic (not from their own bodies) stem cell transplants are usually required to stay out of school for at least a year, as their severely compromised immune systems recover.

In essence, they have no choice. They need to be away from their peers, away from potential bacterial and viral sources. For a full year. And many of these children were not sick previously. Their cancer came on quickly and unexpectedly. Yet, with the resources that have evolved over the past decade, they are thriving and emerging from their immunocompromised state equal to their public schooled friends.

Do I think I am a better teacher than the highly-educated and dedicated teachers in our school district? Not necessarily - but I do know that I know my children better than anyone else. I am also eternally grateful that my children are not sick enough to be removed from school - though it happened to us when Henry was an infant. His respiratory problems were so severe, his pediatrician told us that we needed to hire a nanny vs. putting him in daycare. 

One other thing that I feel confident in saying is that I do know that I can hone in on their individual needs and interests better than anyone else.

I've known several homeschooling families. All of the children from these environments were fared very well in life.

Back in my day, homeschooling was considered an "alternative lifestyle".  One of my friends came from a highly religious family, however, after entering public school in her freshman year of high school, she maintained her high moral standards, despite a fair amount of teasing from her peers. Today, she is a proud homeschooling parent herself. Who'd have known??

Today, there are thousands of resources available to parents interested in this option. You can purchase homeschooling (also called "unschooling") software for your child where they can learn everything from the basics required to keep them up-to-date with your state's reqs to religious cultures, political science and even any foreign language you like, all thru the aid of a virtual teacher!

The educational part is not what concerns me most - it's the socialization. I know that both of my kids, both daycare and preschool kids, desire and need interaction with other children. I can imagine that it is very easy to get absorbed into a "dysfunctional routine" where the kids are isolated from their public or private school counterparts, spending their days in PJs instead of getting dressed per usual, eating lunches on the run, watching cartoons during "recess". And, a parent who craves convenience, is particularly prone to developing this routine for their child. I do realize that homeschooling is an incredibly important responsibility.

Again, thank goodness for the homeschooling co-ops.

So, those are my thoughts. This is after a very bad day with my son, where I questioned whether I even knew who he was...

Happy weekend to you!

 

Mama Knows Best

When I was a little girl, I used to flap my arms.

To this day, I can't explain why I did it. But I know that, if my child did it, I'd call the doctors, the psychologists, the specialists, the psychics, ad nauseum.

My mom believed that, when I flapped my arms, I was concentrating, being creative and focusing. She also recounts that it was "sooooo cute!" :)

And, you know what? Even a 1970s Mom knows best...

I'm not a terribly unusual adult. I don't have any unusual habits or behaviors to this day, though some may disagree should they know me intimately, ha ha! I twiddle my fingers some. And, as my mom explains, I meditate a lot on circumferential things. (In the simplest form - circumferential means "circular".)

Look at many world cultures and religions - they focus on fires, water and the growth of plant life. They sit in circles and speak in tongues amongst each other to  become closer to a higher being. In the book Siddhartha, he gives up all worldly possessions and wanders into the forrest.

Poet Khalil Gibran, whose birth town I have been fortunate enough to see in person, believes that nature and peace are one entity. Doubt me? Read "The Prophet". It'll change your life, if you focus on what you are reading.

You know what? I'm GLAD my mom didn't think I was unusual. I'm glad she didn't diagnose me with some unknown form of autism. I'm glad that I can sit, with a wee bit of frustration, in a traffic jam and spell license plates backwards and forwards and make words out of them while I wait. I'm very happy that I can listen to the same song over and over again (even welcome it) when Lu or Henry ask me to play a song for them in the car.  I'm glad that I was born blessed with a talent to learn languages, dialects and, even accents. (I wish I had been born with even basic math talents, alas...such is life...) I'm glad that I can write like the wind and smile like the sun.

Mama knows best - if you are ok with your child the way he/she is, you are probably right. Enjoy them. They will grow into their own unique and interesting humans. And, if you find that your child marches to his/her own beat, that's ok, too. Because, the world would be far less intersting (and advanced!) without its own set of "different drummers".

Afterall, you'd have to be pretty "out there" to invent something such as electricity, cell phones or even a Wii...ha ha!

Good evening, all - just my thoughts for the night! :)

 

 

What does...

this magical time of year mean to you?

Really...I want to know! (Comment to give your thoughts.)

For me, this Christmas holds an immense promise, a previously untouchable gift. I get to be a mom!!

Don't misunderstand me. I have been a career-mom for nearly 6 years now.

However, life's circumstances, to which my previous blogs have eluded, have directed me in a position of juggling nannies and daycares and last-minute phone calls to grammys (both far away) to come to the rescue when I had to travel.

When a Harvard-educated doctor told me that "natural conception" would be impossible, I put all my human stock into him.

When Chris and I met, those "impossible" statistics were proven wrong...x 2!!

Despite the miracle of Lucy and Henry, we've had to work to make ends meet. I won't get into the messy financial details, but we barely survived, credit cards and all!

And now, nearly six years after our beloved Lucy curled her tiny pink fists in protest to the doctor as she fought her way into life, I am able to be a full-time stay at home mom.

What does Christmas mean to you? What do you wish for? How crazy or impractical is it?

After you think about that....ask yourself this: is it really impossible, or are you MAKING it impossible?

I'm so happy... :) :) :) :) :)

The Return of Bubbles

Last year, Bubbles, our family's Elf on the Shelf, had to be sent back to the North Pole about two weeks before Christmas because two little Ahasic children were being SO naughty he was afraid his final report to Santa would result in (as Lucy put it) "nothin' but a big ol' sack of coal".

He returned for his annual visit this year in high spirits - even crossing thru Pop Pop's snowy Northwoods. He brought each child an elfin-sized pair of mittens to hang on the tree, and everyone was very happy to see Bubbles.

We hope he makes it 'til Christmas this year...

The Secret of Life...

In my humble opinion, the secret to life is living.

I haven't blogged since June...June!!!! How crazy is that?? Something that I love to do yet I've been too "busy" to do it??

Given the hour, tonight's blog will be short. But I will end it with the promise to return soon.

I'm currently on a mission to organize self, with the by-product being more time to spend with the people I love, doing the things I love, going to the places I love... Basically realigning myself with the universe and giving back to the world.

In the coming weeks, I have several projects lined up and much blog updating to do, as there have been many awesome changes in our family over the summer:

I'll be engaged with the kids' schooling and YMCA classes, working on projects that will hopefully benefit both Henry's playschool and Lucy's Kindergarten, learning about my job and where I want it to take me, working on our house and prepping for autumn, working on building that elusive spiritual relationship with my Higher Power, and reaching out to friends and family just to see how it's going.

If there's time, I also plan to sleep every now and then...ha!

 

One For The Road

Tomorrow morning, Henry, Lulu and I will be embarking on our first adventure sans Daddy (who hopes to join us later this week) to the Northwoods of Wisconsin.

We had a delightful time earlier looking at pictures and videos from two summers ago - when Henry was a curious 2-year-old and Lulu was 3 1/2.

It was awesome to see them dressed in their 4th of July outfits ready for the parade in Phillips and to watch videos of them splashing thru the creek at Uncle Buca's place (where Henry fell tummy first right into the water...something his own Mama did when she was a kiddo).

This year is the right year for us to return to Wisconsin for the 4th. All is currently right with the world. And, Lord willing, it will continue to trend upward.

I've packed a bag of essentials - Neosporin, Bactine, Band-Aids, wet wipes, bug spray, sunscreen, fresh fruit, juice boxes and water bottles, cereal bars and plenty of toys. I've updated my iPod playlist. Clothing from sandals to tank tops to warm fleece PJs. Their beloved sleepy animals ("Baaaab" and "Beary") are freshly laundered. The car has been given a nice bath to get ready for more road grit. We have all the necessities for backpacking thru Indonesia...even though we'll pass plenty of Wal-Marts along the way.

So, tomorrow, as we make our way thru the throngs of working families who chose to take a few extra days for fun to venture up North, I pray that we have safe travels, little to no arguing (ha!) and plenty of memories in the making.

God Bless America!!! May everyone enjoy a safe and beautiful 4th of July weekend!!!

Grammy and Pop Pop....here we come, ready or not!!

A Midsummer's Night Theme

Sooooo....

I've long been accused by my loving (and chafingly accurate) mother that I get bored very easily.

I have projects lined up as long as a "country mile". A wicker table for the front porch, my antique magazine rack, my sewing table/desk, planters and vases....

But in the last week I've....well....I've been tired. Feeling run-down and a wee bit useless. Last weekend I daresay I spent 90% of it in bed shrugging off something that made me as limp as a wet dishrag and cranky as a wet wasp's nest. (Chris will gladly confirm this for you.)

Noooooooooooo, I'm not in "the family way" (don't I wish, as that would make my snappy mood swings so much more excusable). Nooooooooooo, I'm not depressed. Nooooooo, I'm not suffering from a lack of sunlight.

I think it's my body adjusting to all the new nutrients I'm subjecting it to and also the lack of white sugar, red meat, carbs, caffeine and sugar substitutes. However, if this new "lifestyle" continues to leave me feeling so depleted, I must reconsider...maybe I'm meant to eat garbage????? I shall confirm with Dr. Chad tomorrow after my weekly adjustment.

In any case, being the avid lover of summer that I am, I was too exhausted to bask in the glory of the summer solstice, a day that leaves me with a quiet conflict. The days will now get shorter, meaning the longest day of the year is now officially a year away.

However, I adore the 4th of July with all its splendor.

My dad would take our Bronco out to the backroads of Sheridan, Illinois, and we'd join dozens of other families as we watched the fireworks from afar. Bug spray and lawn chairs were optional. Sparklers were mandatory. Lines of pick-ups and station wagons with their backs opened parked along the roadside. The smell of cigarettes, beer and cheap icy, fruity winecoolers wafted thru the air.

Sometimes, a wayward redneck counterpart would get out and light off a "doozy" in the middle of the road, before the show started, to which we'd all cheer. And then, when the real show started, we would clap like crazy and make booming comments all during.

As soon as my dad identified the "grand finale", we'd hightail it outta there as if we were heading home from a packed Bears' game, chased by a growing cloud of dust on those gravel roads as others followed in our wake. And it was one of the very rare times you had to wait to turn left onto the blacktop to head to town. 

We'd land in our yard where we'd have an even more spectacular display in our own backyard as he and our neighbor Ron rallied together to have the best show. (The first true definition of "punk" for me was a long, incense-like stick that you used to light fireworks from a distance.) And what a blast that was!!!!!! (Picking up the "spents" the next day did not offer nearly as much pleasure, but so is a girl-child's work after a night of rauckous, unrivaled entertainment, and it would never be punishment.)

I can't also forget the awesome 4th of July parades in Wheaton, IL with my Grandpop and Grandmom Cleary. The memory is a little more distant, so I hope not to recall incorrectly. I remember my grandparents lived not far off of Main Street. Someone would head down early to secure us spots on the sidewalk at the intersection of Main and Madison. We ALWAYS had great seats. And the governor at the time, Governor Jim Ryan, always made an appearance, which meant little to me as a child. I remember the best goodies from those parades, though. Candy, yes. But also Frisbees! And hats! And t-shirts! It was like Christmas!

Afterward, we'd head back to Grandmom and Grandpop's house to have a grilled meal - I think one year they tried to grill a turkey? But I remember it as one of the few times I had to really enjoy my grandparents backyard. The hammock...the swing....the mysterious shed.

But those times are foggy. Grandmom died in1989, to my great and terrible sadness. Grandpop followed in 1993 on (ironically) the 4th of July. I was so devastated I couldn't visit his casket and just viewed from afar as a grieving relative.

I have never forgotten them to this day, and I only pray that they are proud of what I have managed to accomplish with my life.

And, to all the veterans who have given their all and to those who have given their lives, I stand proudly as an American who can thank them for their service - my dad, my Uncle Bud, my brother, my Grandpop Cleary, my Great-Grandpop Reber, Dennis Kabara, my brother-in-law Joey, Robert Ficht, Jr., Kenneth Kozbiel - you gave your all to protect us who now live in freedom. I can honestly same that I am proud to be an American.

 

 

 

Freely Recycling

Kelly, once again, has offered me a solution.

We have two children who like to play. We have a backyard full of weeds. We have no park across the street. Her suggestion? http://my.freecycle.org/home/info

This is a very neat website that allows people to exchange items that they no longer need for items that they now wish they had. Random example - a swingset your kids have way outgrown while you're in need of a belt sander? Voila! Someone, somewhere close to you is probably wondering how to get rid of that which you need while also wondering how much they need to save to buy that which they need.

I've already made several posts - a night stand, a waterbed and a changing table, free to good homes. My only request at this time? A used playset for the kids and to keep me from darting from the backyard to the front yard....

 

YMCA Tumbling Revue - True Grit!

Guestbook - Star Courier

As the parent of a pre-k student in the tumbling program at the YMCA and a relatively new resident of Kewanee, I have to say that I was incredibly impressed by the hard-work and stick-to-it-tiveness of the YMCA coaches and staff as well as all the little tumbling champions for the Friday, June 3, 2011 Revue at the Armory.

Despite the agonizing heat, all of these children, and especially the adult volunteers and staff, made sure that the show was a hit! By the end, my out-of-town in-laws commented that it was like Cirque du Soleil with these awesome coaches and leaders doing their thing on the trampolines and the tumble mats! It re-energized the heat-worn crowd!

And the touching finale, a giant group dance to the "YMCA", was the perfect ending.

Despite the heat and the gallons of h2o needed to make it thru the night, it was a fanstastic show! Thank you to ALL of the YMCA's Tumbling Staff. Not only were your stunts amazing, your teamwork was inspiring to young and old. Happy to be a teensy part of it!!!!

The Dog Days Are Over!

Thank you, Erika, for the awesome Florence + The Machine song, which inspired tonight's blog!! (I realize it has a darker undertone, but it still makes me smile and dance! And I hope you and the kids are having a blast in Cali!)

Happiness, hit her, like a train on the tracks...

I'm not sure WHAT'S going on with me, but I've been in this deliciously goofy, happy, wafting thru a field of poppies mood lately! A day at a time, perhaps. But seriously, I've not been so joy-filled since I can't remember when for the last week or so! And, aside from Chris' shift change and the weather warming up and getting my back straightened out (pun totally intended), I have just been happy about EVERYTHING!

Maybe it's because, for the first time in several years, our burden is lessened. Maybe that invisible weight on my shoulders has finally lifted. I see opportunity and adventure along every horizon! And I've been stopping so often lately to smell the roses that I think I attracted a bee up in my left nostril!!!

It's not like each day doesn't have its challenges. I still don't enjoy dropping the kids off at playschool while I work. I'd rather spend the days at home with them going on adventures or making crafts or doing dramatic re-creations of "Mary Poppins", complete with pretend parasols. But I've found that, per last night's blog, juicing the kids up with a huge dose of "happy day" energy on the short car ride across town makes us all feel more light-hearted and more prepared to face our days.

Also, I still struggle with juggling work, kids, housework, yard work and a blossoming social life. Instead of tackling mounds of laundry or sweating my hind-er off mowing the lawn, I'd rather spend the nights chatting or listening to music with Chris after the kids have gone to bed, but he's exhausted after a long, hot dayshift managing his crew. So it's early to bed for him so that he can be early to rise. Usually that is followed by me curling up with a book or watching some disturbing documentary about the world's deadliest journeys or Twilight Zone re-runs.... (To each his own, eh?)

I'd also rather spend time in the evenings chatting with my faraway besties or with my new local gal pal, Kelly, who has really brought a sparkle to my life (her and her family - they're awesome and a blessing all rolled into one).  It's like God took a soul-friend from Heaven and dropped me in the same town as her. Our girls love each other, and her family has been so incredibly awesome. (Kelly, you are the queen of country avant garde - for example, you use your own homemade cleaning products, something I've been wanting to try for the longest time! And you are an "extreme gardener" and an avid reader! And you're thrifty!! It's like we were cut from the same unique cloth, and it's awesome to have a local friend who doesn't cock an eyebrow when I say I buy most of my kids' clothes from garage sales but who can also rock out with hubby to American Idol!!)

And I certainly can't forget my parents....this weekend, my mother is hosting somewhere around 12 guests at their 2-bedroom, 1-bath house (plus a guest cabin). There will also be an unknown number of dogs, all vying for territory 'round one of the trees that survived the tornado they had earlier this spring.

As frightening as the thought of taking my children up there to be a part of the chaos is to me, it also is somewhat sad that we are not there. I see my parents way too infrequently. FB and blogging and emails and phone calls are nice, but I really do miss them. And the days slip by as the kids grow up and life "happens". And, besides my Christopher, no one can make me laugh as hard as my mom. She and I have had so many roaring laugh-fests where we couldn't catch our collective breaths over so many oddball stories that other people may think are just plain stupid! I love those chats where we can be happy and enjoy each other (take note, mothers and daughters....the teenage years, should you both survive them, are just a passing breeze....hopefully you'll grow up to love your mother or daugher and appreciate her. Just remember to come up for air during those laughing fits! I haven't figured out yet how to express just how much my mom means to me...)

Anyhoo, I'm feeling calm and happy and excited about tomorrow. Maybe we'll go swimming at the park district pool - I hear it's nice... Or maybe I'll take the kids to their first auction. I'm sure we won't buy anything, but the excitement of not knowing what they'll have up for sale and the rapid jabbering of the auctioneer is a thrill (plus I have this super happy memory where my dad took us all to an auction and then, as we were getting ready to leave, he wheeled a sparkly purple bike with a banana seat, tassels and a basket in the front over to the truck - I didn't see him bid on it, and it was a huge surprise!!! And I rode that bike for a good many years and loved it dearly....)

I'm digressing when I should be undressing - into my nightie, dirty birds!

Have a supercalifragilistic extra-special weekend, y'all!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

Those Blog-Time Blues...

Ahhhhhhh, like a piece of decadent chocolate cake or squishing your toes into warm sand on the beach....a writer writes.

I haven't been as keen on blogging of late because of hectic summer life. It's all good. Chris is on days now, and that has freed up so much of our time. We have been having truly awesome evenings. I no longer feel that loneliness that creeps up inside when I'm here alone after the kids go to bed. He's here, too. Even if he's not right in the same room as me, my life-partner-in-crime is within shouting distance.

Tonight, as we prepared for the summer session of tumbling, Lulu and I danced a silly jig. She is now able to wear her sparkly yellow leotard - the sought-after attire from last week's YMCA Tumbling Revue (which only happens every FOUR years) that has been hanging teasingly near the washing machine, tags still on, not to be worn until the day of the Revue.

So, instead of wearing, as she puts it, her "disgusting" black leotard, she was able to wear the Revue outfit to tonight's practice.

Of course, she chose the color. Since rainbow was not an option, she went with her close second. And adorable she looks in that leotard, with her sassy "hands-on-hips" pose. And, as she put it on, we sang together and danced that silly jig "Yellow, yellow, yellow. I like to eat Jello! Yellow, yellow, yellow!"

Thanks to Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project, the bestest birthday gift from my dear mom, I feel like my whole outlook on life has become more positive. I find myself looking for those happy, carefree times.

I now drive the kids to school. We crank up the tunes and belt out anything from Laurie Berkner to The Backyardigans to The Ramones (though the kids sing "I wanna be sub-mitted!", as they aren't quite sure what "sedated" means, and they lovingly refer to it as "the fast song"). It's just a ten minute car trip from one school to the next, but it's the best part of my morning. Henry and I walk Lulu into Lyle School for the summer pre-k program, and then Henry and I head to the playschool to drop him off. It's been so laid back and pleasant...I come home usually with anywhere from twenty to thirty minutes to spare before I start work, and I cannot believe how enjoyable that alone time is for me. It's like a present - the time to soak up the happiness juice from what have been totally fantabulous mornings! I only pray it continues on such a good and light-hearted note!

I've also been seeing Chad, such wonderfully fantastic visits... Get your mind outta the gutter!! Chad is my chiropractor - I met him last week at my first visit. It was unpleasant to see the x-rays of my crooked spine, but his adjustments of both back and lifestyle have been totally rewarding. He's a pleasant country boy with a big heart for all of his patients, and he makes me feel like I have total control over what lies ahead for me.

So, I've started some supplements and have been doing exercises to banish the carpal tunnel. Almost two weeks later, and I'm already seeing an improvement in mind and body. (Though that horrific cracking in my neck and back, those pressure points where he applies hand's-on deep pressure and that little doo-hicky machine that goes 'rat-a-tat-tat' super fast on my muscles are NOT pleasant - I do NOT, for the record, enjoy my adjustments during. It's a few days later that I start to feel better. Ice pack or no...chiropractic medicine is not for the faint of heart....)

Tomorrow is my next appointment. I'm already starting to dread those pressure "massages". C'mon, left shoulder...you have one day to cooperate or Chad is gonna put the smack down.... I guess I should have known it wouldn't be easy when he told me on my first visit that, if it didn't cause some discomfort as he was doing the adjustments and long into the next day, he wasn't doing his job. My second clue should have been when his office manager handed me an ice pack. And Chad really doesn't seem like the sadistic type. I think he wants me to feel better, and that's what I'm going with as long as I continue to feel better.

You may be wondering about my title?

Well, Chris really has been trying to get the new floors in. He is about halfway done with the living room. The foyer is complete. But it seems like we just can't get a break. A kid gets sick, there is an activity that we have to go to, we have visitors, etc. Even when Lucy goes on a playdate, we find ourselves entwined with Henry.

In any case, I digress.

I haven't had access to the computer because it's been buried in the corner. All of the furniture and various "things" in the living room have been moved around pending floor placement. So it wasn't until tonight that I voiced my sadness over not having really blogged in a week.

Sure, a picture post here or there keeps my blog "current", but a true writing session was my craving - worse even then chocolate!

So Chris made the statement tonight that I was suffering from "blogging blues". And right he was! I feel much better now that I've had a chance to sit down and actually write out what I've been up to and how I've been feeling. It makes the last few weeks seem less invisible.

Anyhoo, it is knocking on 11pm. And I do have two rowdy kiddos to have a blast with in about seven hours. So I guess I better end tonight's blog. And I'll be jiggered....I can't think of a good ending.

Well, maybe I'll go finish the Pippi Longstockings book I've been reading or watch a documentary. it may not be the thrilling finish I was looking for, but every writer needs to start and stop somewhere.

Good night, all. Peace and love and extreme happiness to each of you!!!!!!!!

 

My Top Five Things to Smile About Today....

5.) La Di Da - an app for my iPhone that does reverse karaoke. You sing, it reverbs and makes you sound like an American Idol finalist. The kids and I made up many, many songs today....

4.) Red reflectors - Lucy called them "lollipop plants" because she thought they were growing out of the ground. God bless childhood imagination!

3.) Living on high ground - after this week's record rainfalls and flooding, I'm relieved that we did not suffer any water in our basement or serious power outages.

2.) Good friends - you know who you are, and you know WHY you are my good friends. Thank you for listening, for understanding, and, best of all, for putting up with me.

1.) Being a "Mamie" - after reflecting with the kids tonight on many of their babyhood and toddlerhood videos on Dropshots.com, I once again realize how incredible it is that I'm a mama. Henry has recently given me the nickname of "Mamie" (I used to call my Mama "Merm" - and this is when I was OLDER!). He loves having given me a nickname, and I'm honored to wear it.

Love and peace to all!