Have you ever read that book, "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" by Laura Numeroff ? It's a really good book. You should read it. Well, I am having a mouse/cookie experience.
While I was in the hospital, many of the deacons at our church came and visited me. It was nice. They came and prayed.
When it was time to come home from the hospital, I was asked if there was anything that I needed. Yep. I needed a ramp to get into my home. Not that I asked. I thought that my mom and husband were handling it. They tried. They got something that worked for right then, and we were ok.
A couple of the deacons found out about our make-shift ramp, and decided to make me a new one. Hooray!
They decided to paint it. The paint that they had, they had a whole lot of this grey color. They offered it to me so that I could paint my house.
The next day I found out that they decided to paint it for me.
These guys started to prep, and ended up deciding that they needed to fix the door to my converted garage. They decided to build me a new one.
They began to scrape around to prep for the paint, and they found out that a couple of my windows weren't put in properly. They fixed them.
The list just keeps going and going.
One of these days they will decide that they are done. Until then, these men will be here helping my family out.
Aren't I blessed? I have to figure out how to thank them. I just don't see anything that I could do that seems adequate. I pray that God blesses each of these men in a special way.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Hug and Cheese
Instructions:
1. Point camera at my twins
2. Say the words "hug and cheese!"
3. Take picture
This is the result:
I know, it's kind of silly to train your kids to do these things, but it's really cute and rather entertaining on a kind of yucky day.
The day was long. I declared it everyone's day off (meaning me and the kids, Tony still went to work) and I tried to make it the least stressful day possible. I didn't want anyone doing chores, and I really wanted to relax.
It was a good thing I planned this in advance because the kids all woke up with fevers. The fever went away with tylenol, but still, it was obvious that there was sickness in the house of some sort.
Now, my kids aren't really good at being sick. Well, maybe they are, they are just not really good at showing that they are sick. Yeah, that's it. If they are sick, they are still likely to run around and play. They just pause every once in a while for the symptom (cough, sneeze, throw up, etc.). Today was no different. They coughed every once in a while, but unless you had felt their fevers earlier in the day, you would never have known that they had more than just allergies.
So when I decided to take a few pictures, I ignored the fact that they might have a little bit of booger residue still left on their faces (because I'm a lousy mom...or at least a lousy nose wiper...especially when there are 4 noses to keep up with).
Anyway, the point is: aren't my girls cute? Ignore the boogers.
1. Point camera at my twins
2. Say the words "hug and cheese!"
3. Take picture
This is the result:
I know, it's kind of silly to train your kids to do these things, but it's really cute and rather entertaining on a kind of yucky day.
The day was long. I declared it everyone's day off (meaning me and the kids, Tony still went to work) and I tried to make it the least stressful day possible. I didn't want anyone doing chores, and I really wanted to relax.
It was a good thing I planned this in advance because the kids all woke up with fevers. The fever went away with tylenol, but still, it was obvious that there was sickness in the house of some sort.
Now, my kids aren't really good at being sick. Well, maybe they are, they are just not really good at showing that they are sick. Yeah, that's it. If they are sick, they are still likely to run around and play. They just pause every once in a while for the symptom (cough, sneeze, throw up, etc.). Today was no different. They coughed every once in a while, but unless you had felt their fevers earlier in the day, you would never have known that they had more than just allergies.
So when I decided to take a few pictures, I ignored the fact that they might have a little bit of booger residue still left on their faces (because I'm a lousy mom...or at least a lousy nose wiper...especially when there are 4 noses to keep up with).
Anyway, the point is: aren't my girls cute? Ignore the boogers.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Will This Day End Already!
The morning started out crummy. First of all, I had to wake up, which is never a good thing.
I know, I'm so tortured!
The twins were in one of those "I'm going to turn 3" moods, and they disagreed with me on basically anything that I was willing to do for them. "Please lay down so I can change you into panties" became "You may not run around the house naked!" within a minute.
They are normally so obedient...but they are turning 3. The evil age.
They didn't want me to pick out their clothes. This is totally fine with me, even if their clothes don't really go together. I don't care what they wear as long as they aren't naked. The problem was that they wanted to wear the same shirt. Neither of them ended up getting it because they ended up ripping it during the struggle over who gets it.
I'm confined to my wheelchair due to the fact that I had over worked myself the previous day, and I couldn't trust myself to stand. I sit there watching the struggle, and found myself blessed by the shirt ripping so that they had a built-in consequence for their actions. When they took their time-outs for fighting, I searched for clothes that they would not argue about.
I decided it was a good day for couch potato lessons.
The girls glued themselves to the TV, while I kept having to answer the phone. All important phone calls, too. I couldn't just hang up. Well, my grandmother didn't call for anything important, but I couldn't just hang up on her.
My plans to put dinner in the crock-pot never made it that far. A phone call from Social Security about my son, a phone call from his Regional Center worker, a call from Becca's coach about the plans for the end of the season party, and the never-ending phone call from my grandmother took care of all my time this morning.
I started a PB&J lunch when I heard the girls begin to argue over which character they were on the show (they like to act it out as they watch) and the TV ended up having to be turned off. Bummer. They came into the kitchen and asked to help. Fine. I let the girls spread their own peanut butter. Then came the argument over the jelly. There is no way that they will agree on a jelly, and the one that I took out just wasn't what they wanted (who's idea was it to have multiple flavors of jelly open? I never do that! Leftovers from when I was out of commission).
Finally, I get the girls fed, and they play in their room for a little while. Two time-outs (each) later, it is time to pick up Micah and Becca from school.
I got to the school ok, but I was running late, so I didn't take my wheelchair with me. I just had my cane. Apparently, there was an assembly that everyone knew about but me, and there is not a parking spot anywhere near the school.
Great.
I got the girls out of the car in my parking spot a block away, and I start walking with them. An argument over who holds my hand starts, and I end up getting knocked over. Pain. Lots of pain.
I stand (barely) just in time to meet Micah's bus (he gets dropped off by Becca's school) and look up to see that he got a sticker at school. Hooray! Micah was good at school! Think it will continue through the afternoon?
I'm still in pain, but I make it over to the point where I am supposed to pick up Becca and sit down on the grass. Praying that there are no ants around (I'm allergic), I sit while Micah and the twins run wild on the grass outside Becca's school. I see the scowls from the parents around me when my kids scream and run around, but I don't care. I'm not a bad parent, I'm a parent who is in extreme pain.
At this point, I have already called Tony and asked him to come get me. I know it's only a few blocks, but I just couldn't drive home. He ended up taking the rest of the afternoon off. We got home and he wheeled me inside and ordered me to bed. I'm thankful.
I got up at dinner time when my mom started asking what I wanted to eat. Well, I wanted the stuffed bell peppers that I was going to put into the crock pot this morning. Still, it was already dinner time. We decided to try this stuff that we had a sample of at Costco. It was good, and Micah-safe, and fast.
Tony had to take Becca to her T-ball closing ceremonies tonight, so I'm up for the evening. Micah was playing Wii after dinner, and he got stuck and wanted help. I just don't do that. He is better than I am at most video games, and when I mess up, I end up with a tantrum on my hands. I told him that he had to figure it out or wait for Daddy. He didn't like that. I ended up with the tantrum anyway.
After a rather long screaming fit, I turn to find the twins getting into toothpaste and decorating the bathroom. After a scrubbing, I send them to bed. I just don't care that there is still 30 more minutes to bedtime. The day is over.
Meds are given, time for bed. After so much screaming in my day, a little more while they are tucked in isn't a big deal.
Psalm 127
1.Unless the LORD builds the house,
its builders labor in vain.
Unless the LORD watches over the city,
the watchmen stand guard in vain.
I know, I'm so tortured!
The twins were in one of those "I'm going to turn 3" moods, and they disagreed with me on basically anything that I was willing to do for them. "Please lay down so I can change you into panties" became "You may not run around the house naked!" within a minute.
They are normally so obedient...but they are turning 3. The evil age.
They didn't want me to pick out their clothes. This is totally fine with me, even if their clothes don't really go together. I don't care what they wear as long as they aren't naked. The problem was that they wanted to wear the same shirt. Neither of them ended up getting it because they ended up ripping it during the struggle over who gets it.
I'm confined to my wheelchair due to the fact that I had over worked myself the previous day, and I couldn't trust myself to stand. I sit there watching the struggle, and found myself blessed by the shirt ripping so that they had a built-in consequence for their actions. When they took their time-outs for fighting, I searched for clothes that they would not argue about.
I decided it was a good day for couch potato lessons.
The girls glued themselves to the TV, while I kept having to answer the phone. All important phone calls, too. I couldn't just hang up. Well, my grandmother didn't call for anything important, but I couldn't just hang up on her.
My plans to put dinner in the crock-pot never made it that far. A phone call from Social Security about my son, a phone call from his Regional Center worker, a call from Becca's coach about the plans for the end of the season party, and the never-ending phone call from my grandmother took care of all my time this morning.
I started a PB&J lunch when I heard the girls begin to argue over which character they were on the show (they like to act it out as they watch) and the TV ended up having to be turned off. Bummer. They came into the kitchen and asked to help. Fine. I let the girls spread their own peanut butter. Then came the argument over the jelly. There is no way that they will agree on a jelly, and the one that I took out just wasn't what they wanted (who's idea was it to have multiple flavors of jelly open? I never do that! Leftovers from when I was out of commission).
Finally, I get the girls fed, and they play in their room for a little while. Two time-outs (each) later, it is time to pick up Micah and Becca from school.
I got to the school ok, but I was running late, so I didn't take my wheelchair with me. I just had my cane. Apparently, there was an assembly that everyone knew about but me, and there is not a parking spot anywhere near the school.
Great.
I got the girls out of the car in my parking spot a block away, and I start walking with them. An argument over who holds my hand starts, and I end up getting knocked over. Pain. Lots of pain.
I stand (barely) just in time to meet Micah's bus (he gets dropped off by Becca's school) and look up to see that he got a sticker at school. Hooray! Micah was good at school! Think it will continue through the afternoon?
I'm still in pain, but I make it over to the point where I am supposed to pick up Becca and sit down on the grass. Praying that there are no ants around (I'm allergic), I sit while Micah and the twins run wild on the grass outside Becca's school. I see the scowls from the parents around me when my kids scream and run around, but I don't care. I'm not a bad parent, I'm a parent who is in extreme pain.
At this point, I have already called Tony and asked him to come get me. I know it's only a few blocks, but I just couldn't drive home. He ended up taking the rest of the afternoon off. We got home and he wheeled me inside and ordered me to bed. I'm thankful.
I got up at dinner time when my mom started asking what I wanted to eat. Well, I wanted the stuffed bell peppers that I was going to put into the crock pot this morning. Still, it was already dinner time. We decided to try this stuff that we had a sample of at Costco. It was good, and Micah-safe, and fast.
Tony had to take Becca to her T-ball closing ceremonies tonight, so I'm up for the evening. Micah was playing Wii after dinner, and he got stuck and wanted help. I just don't do that. He is better than I am at most video games, and when I mess up, I end up with a tantrum on my hands. I told him that he had to figure it out or wait for Daddy. He didn't like that. I ended up with the tantrum anyway.
After a rather long screaming fit, I turn to find the twins getting into toothpaste and decorating the bathroom. After a scrubbing, I send them to bed. I just don't care that there is still 30 more minutes to bedtime. The day is over.
Meds are given, time for bed. After so much screaming in my day, a little more while they are tucked in isn't a big deal.
Psalm 127
1.Unless the LORD builds the house,its builders labor in vain.
Unless the LORD watches over the city,
the watchmen stand guard in vain.
2 In vain you rise early
and stay up late,
toiling for food to eat—
for he grants sleep to those he loves.
3 Sons are a heritage from the LORD,
children a reward from him.
4 Like arrows in the hands of a warrior
are sons born in one's youth.
5 Blessed is the man
whose quiver is full of them.
They will not be put to shame
when they contend with their enemies in the gate.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
An Intelligent Discussion with a 2.5-year-old (warning poo-poo involved)
My day was interrupted by a pile of poo.
I was feeling the call of nature, which is something that I dread at the moment because of the shape of my bathroom. My bathroom is really long and skinny, and my wheelchair doesn't fit. I have to walk. My walker is awkward in there, too, so I tend to just grab on to whatever is handy (counter top, shower handles). Anyway, I made it to the toilet only to slip and fall on a pile of poo.
There was poo on the floor next to the toilet.
Ew!
I get up, only slightly bruised, and finish my business in the bathroom and then begin to inquire about the source of the poo.
Ali claims it without hesitation. This surprises me, because at this point I am irritated, and they obviously pick up on these things.
Apparently she went to the bathroom without letting me know where she was going, but couldn't get on the toilet by herself, so she decided that the next best thing was beside the toilet.
This is where my discussion took an interesting turn.
Me: Why did you poo-poo on the floor?
Ali: I not in trouble Mommy, I went to the bathroom, I wiped front to back!
(Yep, toilet paper was in the toilet!)
Me: Why didn't you poo-poo on the toilet?
Ali: No step!
(My daughters are a bit vertically challenged, so they require a step to get on the toilet.)
Me: Why didn't you call me?
Ali: I had to go now!
(I know, I'm slow right now. It's just that my house was obviously not made for the wheelchair, so it's difficult to get around.)
Zoe: Mommy, you have owies?
Me: Yep, Mommy slipped on the poo-poo.
Ali: Want me kiss it?
Me: No, baby, Mommy just needs a shower.
Ali: Ok, I clean my poo-poo first.
Ali then grabs the baby wipes and begins to wipe the floor with them. I would stop her and get a mop, but she was taking responsibility for the poo without any prompting. She successfully argued her way out of being in any trouble because she had a logical (in two-year-old land, where she can do everything by herself) explanation for her actions, and then took it upon herself to clean up the mess that she had created. My only problem was that she had left the poo on the ground in the first place instead of cleaning it up right away, thus saving me from my fall.
So there you have it. My daughters are growing up. What a weird conversation.
I was feeling the call of nature, which is something that I dread at the moment because of the shape of my bathroom. My bathroom is really long and skinny, and my wheelchair doesn't fit. I have to walk. My walker is awkward in there, too, so I tend to just grab on to whatever is handy (counter top, shower handles). Anyway, I made it to the toilet only to slip and fall on a pile of poo.
There was poo on the floor next to the toilet.
Ew!
I get up, only slightly bruised, and finish my business in the bathroom and then begin to inquire about the source of the poo.
Ali claims it without hesitation. This surprises me, because at this point I am irritated, and they obviously pick up on these things.
Apparently she went to the bathroom without letting me know where she was going, but couldn't get on the toilet by herself, so she decided that the next best thing was beside the toilet.
This is where my discussion took an interesting turn.
Me: Why did you poo-poo on the floor?
Ali: I not in trouble Mommy, I went to the bathroom, I wiped front to back!
(Yep, toilet paper was in the toilet!)
Me: Why didn't you poo-poo on the toilet?
Ali: No step!
(My daughters are a bit vertically challenged, so they require a step to get on the toilet.)
Me: Why didn't you call me?
Ali: I had to go now!
(I know, I'm slow right now. It's just that my house was obviously not made for the wheelchair, so it's difficult to get around.)
Zoe: Mommy, you have owies?
Me: Yep, Mommy slipped on the poo-poo.
Ali: Want me kiss it?
Me: No, baby, Mommy just needs a shower.
Ali: Ok, I clean my poo-poo first.
Ali then grabs the baby wipes and begins to wipe the floor with them. I would stop her and get a mop, but she was taking responsibility for the poo without any prompting. She successfully argued her way out of being in any trouble because she had a logical (in two-year-old land, where she can do everything by herself) explanation for her actions, and then took it upon herself to clean up the mess that she had created. My only problem was that she had left the poo on the ground in the first place instead of cleaning it up right away, thus saving me from my fall.
So there you have it. My daughters are growing up. What a weird conversation.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
After Rehab
I came home last Wednesday in a wheelchair. Today I stood to make the twin's lunch and it wiped me out. I'm not exactly strong at the moment.
Well, I thought I'd share the lesson that I learned the hard way. Apparently I'm too hard-headed to learn things the easy way, so God has to get my attention the hard way. I have to paralyzed to learn that I can't be in control. I thought I'd learned that lesson. Remember? I totally blogged about it before. I still didn't get it.
Really. I don't have to be in control. I get it. Can I walk now?
It's not the easiest thing to parent from a wheelchair. Especially the two active almost-3-year-olds. I have to rely on others quite a bit. It's bugging me. I thought I got this lesson at the beginning, when I had to ask for help right after they were born. I started to get things pretty much under control, and I got my feet knocked out from under me.
Ok. I get it. Can I walk now?
The peace that I received while I was away from home and things had to happen without my help didn't come from me. I'm a control freak. You probably already know that about me if you read this blog much.
My house had to be re-arranged without my help or opinion. Things had to happen without me doing them. It wasn't fun for anyone in my family. Still, it didn't bother me that much. That's totally not me.
Yesterday, I had to get a babysitter so I could be at home by myself so I could figure out how to function at home. I really hadn't been home much since I had been out of the rehab, so I still didn't know how to do some stuff yet, and I knew I wouldn't figure it out with 4 kids surrounding me all day. So off to their cousin's house they went.
And then I woke up at the crack of dawn with a migraine. I hadn't had one in a while. It was horrible. By the time I was over it, my mom had come home from work at about 5pm. She asked me how much I got done, and I told her about the migraine. She mentioned that I didn't get a babysitter so that I could have a headache. I didn't exactly get the migraine on purpose. I didn't say that, though. Still, my mom walked away looking at me as though she read my mind. She does read minds, you know...well, my face probably said it all.
I got up and moved around that evening, thinking about how I was going to plan my day so that I could care for my kids. I'm supposed to be napping right now. That's the plan, anyway. Micah and Becca will be dropped off here by their grandpa in about 30 minutes.
So far, I'm figuring it out. How do I do this therapy stuff with 4 kids? How do I keep my kids out of stuff but still keep it within my reach? Child safety locks just don't work any more.
Still, there have been no major disasters, and while I have had to keep a closer watch today than normal, I'm not in total control, but everything is fine.
I get it already. Can I walk now?
By the way, I can walk. For about 75 feet at a time, using a walker (yes, it does make me feel really old), I can walk. I'm hoping to eventually graduate to a cane. I want to get a really cool looking cane. I don't really want to go out and use the walker. It's probably a vanity thing, but I just don't like it. I'd rather be in a wheelchair. It seems less...I don't know...old.
Here's a couple of passages of scripture that have meant a lot to me lately:
"To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:7-10
"Is any one of you in trouble? He should pray. Is anyone happy? Let him sing songs of praise. Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective." James 5:13-16
Somewhere in the middle of those two passages is me. It seems at first glance that the two might contradict each other. If the prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective, why wasn't Paul healed of his thorn in the flesh? God's answer is perfect.
"My grace is sufficient for you"
Well, I thought I'd share the lesson that I learned the hard way. Apparently I'm too hard-headed to learn things the easy way, so God has to get my attention the hard way. I have to paralyzed to learn that I can't be in control. I thought I'd learned that lesson. Remember? I totally blogged about it before. I still didn't get it.
Really. I don't have to be in control. I get it. Can I walk now?
It's not the easiest thing to parent from a wheelchair. Especially the two active almost-3-year-olds. I have to rely on others quite a bit. It's bugging me. I thought I got this lesson at the beginning, when I had to ask for help right after they were born. I started to get things pretty much under control, and I got my feet knocked out from under me.
Ok. I get it. Can I walk now?
The peace that I received while I was away from home and things had to happen without my help didn't come from me. I'm a control freak. You probably already know that about me if you read this blog much.
My house had to be re-arranged without my help or opinion. Things had to happen without me doing them. It wasn't fun for anyone in my family. Still, it didn't bother me that much. That's totally not me.
Yesterday, I had to get a babysitter so I could be at home by myself so I could figure out how to function at home. I really hadn't been home much since I had been out of the rehab, so I still didn't know how to do some stuff yet, and I knew I wouldn't figure it out with 4 kids surrounding me all day. So off to their cousin's house they went.
And then I woke up at the crack of dawn with a migraine. I hadn't had one in a while. It was horrible. By the time I was over it, my mom had come home from work at about 5pm. She asked me how much I got done, and I told her about the migraine. She mentioned that I didn't get a babysitter so that I could have a headache. I didn't exactly get the migraine on purpose. I didn't say that, though. Still, my mom walked away looking at me as though she read my mind. She does read minds, you know...well, my face probably said it all.
I got up and moved around that evening, thinking about how I was going to plan my day so that I could care for my kids. I'm supposed to be napping right now. That's the plan, anyway. Micah and Becca will be dropped off here by their grandpa in about 30 minutes.
So far, I'm figuring it out. How do I do this therapy stuff with 4 kids? How do I keep my kids out of stuff but still keep it within my reach? Child safety locks just don't work any more.
Still, there have been no major disasters, and while I have had to keep a closer watch today than normal, I'm not in total control, but everything is fine.
I get it already. Can I walk now?
By the way, I can walk. For about 75 feet at a time, using a walker (yes, it does make me feel really old), I can walk. I'm hoping to eventually graduate to a cane. I want to get a really cool looking cane. I don't really want to go out and use the walker. It's probably a vanity thing, but I just don't like it. I'd rather be in a wheelchair. It seems less...I don't know...old.
Here's a couple of passages of scripture that have meant a lot to me lately:
"To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:7-10
"Is any one of you in trouble? He should pray. Is anyone happy? Let him sing songs of praise. Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective." James 5:13-16
Somewhere in the middle of those two passages is me. It seems at first glance that the two might contradict each other. If the prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective, why wasn't Paul healed of his thorn in the flesh? God's answer is perfect.
"My grace is sufficient for you"
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