Life

I have been reminded a couple times lately of the story that is famous in my extended family - the one of my great-grandmother, who was born, as I understand it, prematurely and presumed dead at birth. She was placed in some sort of tea kettle which was slid under the bed while everyone attended to her mother. There, in those quiet, undisturbed moments, future generations were poised on the brink of existence as a tiny baby gradually began to breathe and warm all by herself. Evenually her aunt pulled out the tea kettle to examine her and found, undoubtedly with amazement, that she was alive. That baby lived into her eighties, and her numerous descendents have always considered those first precarious moments of her life with awe, since without them, of course, we would not be.

I posted last year about the young mother I know who went into labor with her apparently healthy, full-term son, only to discover with horror and sadness that he was never even to draw his first breath. The answers given her in the following months were less than conclusive, and so she may never know for certain what happened. Of course she trusts in God's sovereignity, as do I, and I am not questioning Him in the least - only marveling at the mysterious nature of the life he has given us here on earth. How can it be that it can be at once so fragile and yet so strong and resilient? Even farther past the reach of our human understanding is when life that seems to be weak is given inexplicable strength, and life that seems to be full of vigor is blown out in an equally unexplained moment.

One of the times I think about all this iswhen I get together with my good friend Lisa and her brood. I posted about our most recent visit to them, and when she sent me a picture taken at that visit - the traditional one we pose all our kids for - I was struck again by how amazing is this Life that God has given us. I always remember our days as girls, and then as teenagers, full of dreams, hopes, and expectations for our lives, and both completely unitiated in the mysteries of that life:

Years later, these are the souls, the life, God has given us among our two families, each with a place in this mysterious and wonderful tapestry:

A Quick Check- In

I had a post in the works reviewing our Thankgiving week, but time has rendered that one rather irrelevant by now - and anyway, how interesting could the saga of a stomach bug during a holdiay be? Then I kept thinking I would review the following week, this past one but that wasn't anymore interesting, just a whirlwind of park dates, a little schoolwork (as we anticipate taking the rest of December off!), and the usual antics of life with young children. Today, in concluding that week, we took some of our bunnies to a rabbit show (which was rather dissapointing, actually), then went to "choose-and-cut" our Christmas tree from Harmon Tree Farm. Everyone was SO tired, but fortunately, we found our tree almost immediately, quickly visited the animals, and even rode the train (it was impossible to resist Chase's earnest and carefully articulated plea, "I ride train?"). After dinner later, we enjoyed the somewhat frantic event that is our tree decorating tradition, and now, with all that over and the kids visiting the Land of Nod, I find I am too tired to write any of the posts I've been meaning to write!

How to Make Your Mom Go Crazy!

This works fantastically and can deliver quite a show sometimes. The more siblings you have to help you, the better!

1.You can start first thing in the morning. When you get dressed(make sure you wait until she's asked you several times, of course), pull lots of clothes out, leave the drawer open, and leave your pajamas on the floor. She will remind you nicely to clean it all up, but you will hear the strain in her voice already.

2.Change your mind several times about what you want for breakfast. As soon as she pours milk in your cereal, change your mind about that, too. In the end, eat about half of whatever it is you finally landed on. If you are a sensitive type, it helps to say you can't possibly eat when your little brother is so disgusting.

3.When you mom is cleaning up breakfast, begin to pull out toys in every room (if you are very young, dump them out emphatically, things with tiny pieces especially). Don't really play with them; just keep going on to the next thing. Roll around in the covers of her bed so she has to take extra time to make her bed as well.

4.When she is almost done cleaning up breakfast, sweeping up the last crumbs and blissfully unaware as yet of what you have been doing elsewhere in the house, go into the kitchen and say you're starving. This will get a great response!

5. When she asks if you've done your morning chores, act like you don't know what she's talking about. When she reminds you, act like you didn't know she meant you are supposed to do them every day. Be indignant and rail against the infringement of your rights.

6. Carry this over when she begins talking about school. Ask her why you have to do school SO early in the morning and ALL day long, NEVER going outside. It also works very well to insert the "I'm starving" comment here.

7. If you are too young for chores and school, continue to dump toys out. Pull out some puzzles, too. Then start throwing things at your older siblings to increase the chaos and distraction. OR, strip naked and find somewhere other than the toilet to pee.

8. When your older siblings begin to do schoolwork, begin to scream. Refuse to be comforted or distracted.

9. This is also a great technique if the phone rings and your mom gets up to answer it. Follow her and scream. Get a sibling involved and make up a conflict - over something like a stick from the backyard. When she finally hangs up, immediately cease to care about whatever prompted the fight.

10. When she takes a break and goes to the bathroom, all of you get together, and try to enter the bathroom, each with a different pressing question, such as, "Do you know where the arm of my Transformer is?"

11. When she finally offers you a snack, do not be happy about what she offers. Say you can't eat crackers, and in fact, have never liked crackers. If she offers you an alternative, say you don't eat that, either. When, in exasperation, she tells you to find something you DO like, ask for something like ice cream. She will draw the line, at which point you should rant about the fact that there isn't anything in the whole house you can eat. She might send you to your room to calm down, and after a few minutes there, you should come out and say you do like crackers after all.

12. If you went straight for the crackers and skipped the above, try at least to negotiate for the number of crackers you get - make sure you always ask for more than she gives you, and observe that you brother has more than you do. Insist on the latter, even if she proves otherwise. When you finally consent to eat, walk around, as this maximizes the crumb trail and makes is more difficult to clean up.

13. At some point she may ask you to GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY. Say it's too cold, too hot, or - the best one - that there's nothing to do out there. Ask to watch TV. If you watch something, ask for more TV. If she refuses, complain that you NEVER get to watch anything.

14. You could also go outside, as long as you go out and immediately begin arguing (very loudly) over something, again, like a stick. Then come back in, trailing lots of leaves. Go back out, then back in, then back out, then back in... This is especially effective when she is trying to put your little brother down for a nap.

There is, of course, so much more you can do, but usually by this time, your mother will hardly be able to put together a coherent sentence. Your efforts may result in fun outside time with your dad for a LONG while, followed by pizza for dinner.

Sometimes, though, it will all appear to work, and then suddenly your mother will look at you with that funny gleam in her eyes and kiss you and tell you she loves you even when things get wild. She might play a game with you and then make a real dinner for you, ignoring the mess. She'll even snuggle with your little brother as if he were the sweetest thing in the world, and not a terror who dumped toys and colored on the walls. Go figure. In that case, you can always try again tomorrow!

It's Too Much!

Right now I'm listening to a preschool version of the game Guess Who?

Ryan: "Does your person have a beard?"

Chase; "No. Yo person have... [unintelligible description]?"

Ryan: "Does your person have a beard?"

Chase: "No. Yo person have... [unitelligible description]?"

Sounds of the little gates flipping randomly.

Ryan: "Do you want to play again? Say yes."

Chase: "Yes!"

More flipping.

Ryan: "Does your person have a beard?"

and on and on...

Just in case...

I listed one of the books we were reading as simply "Despereaux," when actually it's titled "The Tale of Despereaux" (by Kate Dicamillo). I'm changing it now, just in case anyone might have been perusing our book lists. It's definitely a worthwhile read, and a perfect read-aloud. As we were reading it, we discussed such concepts as perfidy (one of the many great vocabulary words peppered throughout the book!) and forgiveness, the latter of which was highlighted beautifully in several touching examples.

On a totally different subject, by the way, I've been "tagged," and I haven't forgotten it, but I have found myself in the rather pathetic position of not knowing seven other bloggers to tag!

Overheard...

Drew, crying over the sad condition of one of our chickens who had been attacked (probably by her own vicious sisters): "It's hopeless, hopeless... She's going to DIIEEEEE!"

Aimee, reaching across the table to pat his hand, deep sympathy and sincerty in her voice: "It's not hopeless, Drew. Remember George Washington and Valley Forge? There's always hope!"

A lasting homeschool memory for sure.

Baby Fever

Okay, so that's just a tease. I DON'T quite have baby fever, despite having seen and held two delightful such creatures this past weekend. First, my sister delivered her third baby late Friday night - and I dislike her just a little bit because of her 6lb, 12 oz (full-term) boy who practically fell out after two pushes. :-) Sigh. I haven't yet posted my last two birth stories describing agonizingly long posterior births yeilding 8-plus pound boys (not wildly big, I know, but apparently about as much as I can handle). Anyway, Saturday evening we drove up to Rock Hill to see the new baby and make the rounds visiting with family and friends. Sunday we went to church with my mom, then enjoyed the enormous and incredibly delicious autumn feast she prepared for us. After we digested said meal a little, we rolled ourselves out to the car and drove out to see our good, good, GOOD friends, the Parkers. They recently built a new house on several acres, and also fairly recently, had their fifth baby, now a sweet roly-poly little girl. I held her, adored her, and still didn't feel a pang of baby-longing. That's not to say I've dismissed the idea of having another - just that I've developed a measure of philosophical patience about it. :-) AT ANY RATE...the Parkers are true kindred spirits, and we simply love spending time with them, our Sunday afternoon this time being no exception. Lisa and I have been friends since we were 9 and 11, and while we haven't always walked similar paths, we certainly do now, so when we get together, we fairly wallow in understanding and support. Our husbands have only known each other since Dave and I were married, but they get along wonderfully, and especially love to swap crazy-wife stories (which are always eerily - and hysterically - similar). And our children...have there been such kindred spirits before? They are the best of friends, and spend wondrous hours together. So our afternoon with them was idyllic, but we tore ourselves away to swing by to see Dave's parents before returning to my mom's. This morning we dropped in briefly to see my dad before winding our way home again. We were able to return on a weekday, by the way, because Dave is off today and the next couple days (paid) while his office is being audited. We are, of course, happy to enjoy this surprise mini-vacation with him, but I am, admittedly, very nervous about anything that might affect his job. But if I can shelve that for the next couple days, I will, and just enjoy these beautiful fall days with Dave and our four (and staying that way for now!) children!

Inspiration

For me, October is traditionally plunge-into-the-depths-of-despair month, for a variety of reasons but all with the same result. And...it's October, obviously, so it hasn't been the greatest of times for me, which may be one reason for my lack of inspiration. Why October? This is also the time of the year when my eczema flares suddenly and drastically (and maddeningly) - perhaps it's all connected. At any rate, this morning I woke up early, trying to capture a moment of solitude and tranquility before tackling another day, but I also woke to sounds in the kitchen. I was a little surprised to find my two oldest bustling around the table, somewhat bleary-eyed as it was rather early for them. But they greeted me cheerfully, poured some milk into a bowl of cereal, announced my breakfast, and presented me with cards they had made the day before. This was all for being, as Drew put it, "the best mommy ever," and it was an even better start to the day than the one I had planned. Of course, the good feeling was tested and tried a couple hours later when Ryan came to me and said I needed to see something, directing me to the bathroom wherein there had been a toilet overflow. Not too long after that, he also showed me an empty fish food canister, wherein had previously been about a month's worth of food. "I fed the fish!" In his room, his piranha-like goldfish (no kidding) were greedily gobbling at the swirling food in the (very small) tank, and there were fish flakes all over the boys' dresser and surrounding carpet, so math hour was replaced by clean-out-the-fish tank, leave-that-plunger-alone, DON'T-flush-the-toilet-again, WAIT, STOP, DON'T pour-all-the-gravel-in-the-sink, and LEAVE-THOSE-FISH-ALONE time.:-)

Well, that was a little garbled, but it was something. October is almost over, November is a little shorter, and God is still good.

It's Been Awhile...

To tell you the truth, I've been thinking about signing off for good. I have felt so uninspired - and uninspiring - that I haven't been able to post anything, and I realize that what I have posted in recent weeks has been inane. This isn't worth anything, either, but I guess I wanted to check in. God is good, and my children are still bright stars in our universe...and that's about it!

One More Thing

And, by the way, who knows from whence my new blog title comes? It's actualy part of the name of our school (forced to pick a name last year, we landed on this from some of our favorite literature...) Now I'm using it to help me revamp my blog.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

The Good: After a meltdown at AWANAs last week, one of my children showed great determination and spunk, studying hard to learn the section at issue.

The Bad: I overheard an AWANA leader discussing with someone else the child and the meltdown in question. It wasn't a completely unflattering discussion, but still, it's not always very nice to hear.

The Good: Chase is eager to potty-train, and LOVES going around mostly unclothed in the process.

The Bad: Chase escaped out the front door the other day, naked except for socks. An adorable picture, but he didn't want to go back inside, and gleefully - with squeals of forbidden delight - tried to evade capture by running circles around our van as I tried to catch him. And this is when our neighbors pulled in their driveway.

The Good: Chase growing up! He's not a baby anymore and is rapidly developing independence and communication skills.

The Bad: Chase growing up! Today as we were getting ready to go the library, I went to my room to brush my teeth. When I came out, Drew calmly called out from the kitchen, "We have a problem." I walked in to see Chase standing on a chair he had pushed in front of the refrigerator, holding the water lever down continuously and thus flooding the kitchen floor with water.

The Good: My kids learning all kinds of things despite last week's intentional break and yesterday's unintentional one. I've found them outside playing Robinson Crusoe and listened to them around the house singing songs from Les Miserables(even Ryan!) They've written stories together, read to each other, and started nature collections.

The Bad: Having to hope that no one asks them the specifics of what they're currently doing in school. :-)

And the Ugly: Finally getting to the library today, depositing everyone in the children's section, and suddenly realizing that I did NOT mean to wear what I was wearing out in public!

A Good Start

Last week was a pretty awful week, with nothing at all worth posting. Hopefully we can just forget it all and move on with this week, especially since we're taking a previously unscheduled but entirely necessary week-long break. (My planned school year schedule would have us taking a week off later in October, but since it all works out in the end, I decided we could be - gulp - flexible.) Actually - and fortunately - I think I'm the only one who needs to forget anything and recover. "Mom's melting down and losing her sanity? Hey, at least we skipped spelling -again - and got to watch some extra TV!" No one seems to be traumatized, in short, and I'm glad for that, anyway.



Today, though, we had a truly good day. We woke up early and went to the SC State fairgrounds for the fair's rabbit show (the actual fair begins in a couple weeks). We went last a couple years ago, and the kids did well showing their rabbits, but there was hardly any competition. This year, however, the competition was much stiffer, and there were several quality rabbits - we weren't sure how we would fare this year. But our rabbits (the kids showed them) did wonderfully, taking several firsts. One of our rabbits, Patches, made an exceptional showing, catching the judges' eyes immediately, and sweeping all her categories to capture Best of Breed (she's a Holland Lop). At the end of the show she was in the Best of Show judging with all the other Best of Breeds, and there were some gorgeous rabbits in that competition. Our rabbitry has never taken a Best of Show, but we were pleasantly surprised to realize that Patches was a frontrunner. We held our breaths and waited as the judges deliberated, after they had stated that there were four very good rabbbits to choose from. And we danced and high-fived when the head judge, with glowing praise, announced that the Holland was the winner. Aimee got the official awards, but our whole family felt proud, because Patches is a third-generation product of our own line of rabbits.

Dave has been gone this week (just returned this afternoon), and I've a headcold...so by now I can hardly put together a coherent sentence. But here are some pictures of our geckos!

A Little - A Very Little - on Birth

I didn't think you would check the comments for my last post again, Hannah, so this is for you!

I think a real example of the "natural-birth extremism" mentioned in my previous post would be if I had told you I was being induced and you had promptly given me a completely unsolicited account of all the dangers of induction. I have seen that happen to other people, and I do think, though it may be simply my non-confrontational personality talking, that such an approach is a little strong at the very least. But as I think on it now, I'm guessing you were probably probing gently to see if I was making my own decision, rather than blindly following a doctor's "order," and I don't want you to feel you have to apologize for it! At the time, I thought the lines were more black and white, that there were two camps in the birthing community and that neither side could really understand the other. I think many people have this same mentality, and it fosters the mistaken notion that a woman who gives birth naturally is "superwoman" and not quite like most other women when it comes to birth. What I had hoped to highlight, in recounting the conversation, was that attitude on my part. I believed at that time, whether I would have said the exact words, was that natural birth was impossible for me. I believed I was in the other camp, the "normal" birth experience camp, and that since my approach was so different, my decisions and actions wouldn't make much sense to you, whom I knew to be in the other camp, even though I knew you to be entirely well-meaning. Well, I was partly right, in that we were coming from different approaches, but I believe I was wholeheartedly wrong in thinking that there are only two sides to the story. I know I was wrong, because later I experienced birth in an entirely different way, and the result was, I believe, a sense of understanding, empathy, and sisterhood combined with a passion for wanting other women on the cusp of motherhood to be empowered and not, quite frankly, robbed of something God gives only to them. So I try not to be abrasive or to sound remotely judgemental as I encourage other women to make informed decisions that are their own, but I know that anything I say may be taken as words coming from someone with a superhuman tolerance for pain to an earthbound woman, as I, unjustly, belived your position to be. I think that's unavoidable to some degree. But I don't think it would be right to say nothing at all - if we see someone in imminent possible danger, it might not do any good to throw a list of scary facts at her , but a gentle reminder to think before she acts on such an important occasion is probably well within reason. Had you told me more plainly what I might be walking into, it would have been more than the doctor ever said and I would have been better informed, but I don't know that I would have believed you...until 24 hours or so later. But your little nudge - "Is this what you want to do?" - was part of a seed that grew into my own birth awareness over the next few years. A good seed!

For the record. I am not superhuman in any way. I did have two natural births after my first highly medicated ones, and I will chronicle them in a few months, but I still have a pretty low tolerance for pain...and for any other kind of inconvenience or discomfort! :-)

Happy Birthday, Drew!

Actually, his 6th birthday was yesterday, but it was such a busy day I didn't have time to write anything. It was also such a highly anticipated event that I wondered if the actual day might be let-down, but I think it was a good day for the young man in question, and it ended on a postivitely GREAT note for him when just before bedtime Dave was finally able to pick up our gift and bring it home - two leopard geckos. Wow. My mom had asked about getting Drew a reptile or amphibian after she gave my nephew a Pacman frog, and we had been thinking about it as well, so we all decided to go in on something like it for this birthday, only I declined the Pacman frog, which grows to baseball size and eats mice. No, thanks! But Drew loves lizards, and particularly geckos, so when one of the employees of the nearby pet store (where we sell some of our bunnies from time to time) mentioned that she raised them and could give us a deal, we made arrangements with her. When Dave brought them home last night I was a little taken aback, not having realized just how large they are - I pictured something slightly different! - but of course they were a HUGE hit with the kids. Drew promptly named them Betsy and Aimee (a dubious distinction for his sister, I would think, but apparently it was a great honor and was taken as such!) and can now handle them with ease. Unfortunately, so can Ryan, who spent a great portion of his morning perched atop his dresser, picking up the lizards and giving them presents. I think Chase would do the same if he could (heaven forbid!) figure out how to climb up there. He calls them "alligers," which means alligators, and that's either his favorite animal or just his favorite word to say - at any rate, he's delighted with them as well!

Well, I always wanted boys and the kind of life they would bring, and I certainly got it! But I doubt if I really knew all it would entail when I gave birth to my first little boy six years ago. :-) I didn't have the easiest pregnancy with Drew - it was about halfway through that Ibegan .having severe pain that the doctors eventually discovered was from a severely dilated kidney. They didn't know why it was so dilated, so to be safe, my urologist insterted a stint. Later, another urologist said he only puts stints in pregnant women as a last resort, and I certainly wish I would have known that at the time! When I had the procedure done, at 28 weeks, it stimulated contractions that couldn't be stopped right away, and I had to stay overnight for observation. There was some worry about the future of my kidney at this point, but there was nothing more to be done until after the baby was born, so the immediate concerns were for my unborn son, as well as for two year-old Aimee, who, according my OB, needed to be weaned at that point. It was nice to have a doctor who was otherwise supportive of breastfeeding even through a pregnancy under normal conditions, and I felt I could trust her judgement. But I was also reluctant to wean Aimee abruptly, and so after the contractions stopped and I went home, I made the decision simply to cut back to two short nursing sessions a day, being careful of any uterine activity. It turned out to be a good compromise that worked for all of us, and Drew made it to full-term with no more major scares. But I was in a great deal of pain from the stint, which had to be carefully managed, and Drew promised to be a much larger baby than Aimee, two issues which prompted the doctor I saw at my last visit to schedule an induction. I remember talking to Hannah about it (we were in the same playgroup in Greenville at the time), and she asked if that was something I really wanted to do. I thought - a thousand pardons, Hannah! - that she was speaking from natural-birth extremism and just didn't understand. :-) Why WOULDN'T I agree to getting the baby out as soon as possible? The induction was scheduled for six days before my due date, and we arrived at 6:00am to begin the process. Just a few hours and hardly any dilation into my labor, I consented to an epidural, when I was hardly feeling any pain at all, and thereafter I was confined to bed, not altogether comfortably, for an agonizingly slow labor. Hours passed, and I was barely progressing. Drew, too, was suffering, as the pitocin was causing his heart rate to drop, so I was hooked up to all kinds of monitors. At one point they said we were an hour away from doing a c-section, but because they were so busy, they took longer than an hour to check me, and I had progressed sufficiently enough for them to leave me alone. Finally, over 12 hours later, I was complete, and after waiting for the doctor to finish with other deliveries, I began pushing. After some inefficient pushing, the doctor used a vacuum extractor, and finally, at nearly 8:00 pm, Drew was born, weighing 8 lbs. 3 oz (almost two pounds bigger than his sister!). He looked so tired and battered, and in the midst of my joy at seeing him, I felt terrible that we had done it that way. It was hard on me and harder on him, and he wasn't ready. It was something I struggled with even through the following weeks of recovery, and I knew why exactly induction wasn't - isn't - something to be done lightly. But I had my son - my handsome, intelligent, one-of-a-kind Drew. His name, Drew Trahaearn, means "wise" and "strong as iron," and both are certainly true of him. He can be a "bull in a china shop," often not realizing his own strength (or volume!), but he's one of the most tender-hearted and perceptive children I know. He's ALL boy, and he's growing up so fast!

Mr. Hyde

Several months ago, I began elminating artificial dyes out of Drew's diet, and after a trial of a few weeks, I felt there was indeed enough improvement in his behavior to suggest he probably had a sensitivity. Dave was a little skeptical, but one night Drew had a complete meltdown that looked like a toddler tantrum, something he hadn't done in quite some time, and Dave asked what in the world he had done that day. I realized that it had been the first time in weeks that I had allowed him to have something with red dye in it, and after that Dave began wonder if there might actually be a correlation. A couple more incidents with the suspect color were enough to serve as proof for him, so that now he's takes as firm stance on Drew's diet as well (rather than just going along with another one of my weird notions!).

So closer to the present, when Drew was hurt, I went to the store the next day and carefully searched through the children's pain medicine until I found something without artificial color - or at least, nothing red and as little of anything else as possible. Then I went to the pharmacy and picked up his antibiotic and unfortunately, didn't think to look at it until I was almost home. It was, of course, very definitely pink. I was frustrated at myself, but since I had paid for it and wanted to get him on it soon, not to mention the fact that someone had come to babysit the kids so I could go to the store and I didn't know when I could get that again, I decided just to stick with it. I hoped that it would be a small enough amount that it wouldn't bother him very much. WRONG!!! By the second day he was demonstrating the classic signs of extreme irritability, and last night was particularly awful. It's sometimes difficult to describe his reaction, but last night I was thinking of Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde - Drew reacting to artificial color is like him turning into Mr. Hyde. It's more than just a moment of disobedience or even a period of being tired; it's like the dark side of Drew unleashed.

He has seven more days of the antibiotic, and I don't know if we can last that long! I'll try, I suppose to call his doctor and see if we can switch to something else; if we can't, it will certainly be an interesting week!

Siblings

Sometimes I have to remind myself that having four children so close together will eventually be a great thing. :-) And sometimes they remind me themselves. Here they are playing vet together with some of our rabbits.

For Clarity

I was, perhaps not very clear in my post last night - I was really tired! (Of course, often I'm not very clear, anyway, but this time I did have a good excuse!) We have been to the ER numerous times, but mostly for Drew's respiratory problems when he was little, and then for Ryan's croup episodes as a baby. It was a long time, however, before we needed to go for an injury, and in the time period before we had a major injury, I did dread the time when that would finally happen. I knew it would happen, and happen often thereafter, but that knowledge didn't - and still doesn't - keep me from panicking a little at the sight of blood or other signs of moderate injury. We've had those kinds of injuries four times now, and I know more are coming, but I wish they wouldn't! And every once in awhile I think about the fact that we haven't had anything broken yet. We can't provide an environment safe enough to ensure that won't ever happen, or that no one will every need sutures again, so in thise house of boys I'm sure we'll hear that kind of "we're-headed-to-the-ER" kind of scream again. I can't brace myself for it or cushion the feeling of maternal terror that surges through me when I hear those kinds of cries, and that's something about mothering I could do without!

As for Drew, he's growing a little restless, but is still sore (in both his leg and his arm, now, the recipient of a tetanus shot late yesterday), and I think that helps him consent to resting for now.

What I DON'T Like About Mothering

It happens. I KNOW it's going to happen - it's supposed to, especially in a house with three boys. All the same, when I hear a bloodcurdling scream that indicates we'll be going to the ER soon, I never can quite take it in stride, and I don't think I'll ever get used to it, even though I know it's going to come again and again. The kids will be the better for it, of course, and the boys will wear their scars like badges of honor, as all boys do, but oh, that surge of fear that takes seconds off my life!

Okay, okay, a little dramatic! Still, I do hate it when the kids are hurt, as Drew was yesterday afternoon. Climbing up onto the trampoline, he slipped a little and when came down he was screaming in terror. It sounded much more like panic than actual pain (he has a pretty high pain tolerance but is terrified of blood), so I thought he had just scratched himself. When I went to him and saw it, however, the wound on his leg looked...well, just like that - a wound, rather than just a scratch or cut. Surveying the scene, I saw he must have caught it on a screw on the outside frame of the trampoline - I couldn't believe we hadn't noticed how dangerous it was before. At any rate, I brought him inside and looked at his leg more closely. It wasn't bleeding much, and I thought perhaps the skin had just been badly torn and that I had overestimated the seriousness of the injury. Dave, upon arriving home, thought the same thing, but we both knew we needed to take him in to have it properly cleaned and dressed. Naturally, it was just after the pediatrician's office had closed, so Dave took him to the urgent care center nearby, where they waited for waited for several hours altogether, finally emerging with seven stitches in Drew's left leg ( just above the knee) and strict instructions about how to let the wound heal (I'll omit the gory details, but it was in fact as serious an injury as it had looked at first glance). So today began the first of 3-5 days of trying to keep him from running, climbing, or jumping - a herculean task! Today I wasn't too creative, letting him simply watch movies to his heart's content, but tomorrow as the soreness subsides, I'm sure we'll have to come up with other ways to keep him busy.
And I' ll try not to think about the next time!

A Few More Pictures...

Some more pictures from our vacation! The other girls are two of my sisters (and we tend to get goofy when we're around each other for too long!). The last picture is a gorgeous one of Chase, and I've turned it in other albums, but it shows up sideways here.

Another Jedi Knight

I'll begin by offering many thanks to Will and Jenny for the Jedi Sleep Test idea. I didn't actually ask if I could borrow it, but...well, I'm counting on our friendship! :-)

A couple of months ago, Ryan's doctor had a sleep study scheduled for him, because of his loud snoring, poor sleep patterns, and, upon examination, huge tonsils and adenoids. After we came back from the beach and realized the test was in a matter of days, Dave and I began to have misgivings about it, as Ryan's snoring hadn't been quite so bad in recent weeks. Even up to yesterday evening, we were feeling some anxiety about it and were unsure of what to do, and were proceeding with reservations. And when Dave came home, he suggested that I take Ryan, an abrupt change of the plan that had Dave taking him. I hadn't thought Dave would have wanted to deal with Chase all night, so I hadn't even brought up the possibility earlier, but it seems Dave had heard horror stories about sleep studies from some guys he worked with, and he thought he might fare better with an unhappy toddler than with Ryan, who can be in a category of his own when it comes to resistance. :-) I was uncertain of this plan at first - I'd never been away from Chase for the night before - but it was also killing me to send Ryan off with Dave, when I'm almost always the one to take the kids in for doctor's visits and procedures, not to mention the fact that I might have some quiet time by myself if Ryan fell asleep okay, and that was VERY appealing. At any rate, I eventually agreed, we had prepped Ryan for this event, introducing the Jedi Sleep Test idea, and he was extremely excited. Once we arrived, he was slightly nervous, but I could tell he was determined to be brave. As I was talking to the respiratory therapist in our room, we looked down at him at one point and noticed he was holding his arm out stiffly and silently. Amused, the RT asked him what he was doing, and after a couple seconds, I realized he was showing her he was ready for the "stickers." She thought this was very cute, and she laughed most of the way through putting the rest of his electrodes and wires on, as Ryan was highly impressed with himself and thought it was all the coolest thing ever. I was glad he was so compliant, but I wondered how it would be when he woke up in the night. After all, this was the kid who just the night before had spent an hour screaming about a mosquito bite on his toe - how was he going to handle waking up with gauze wrapped all over his head, wires coming out from everywhere, and, most troublesome of all, a sensor just below his nose? But amazingly, he woke up only a couple times, and didn't fight any of it at all, and when he was awakened this morning to have everything removed, he submitted to it calmly and - as he kept mentioning - bravely. He was so proud of himself, and so was I! It's awesome to catch a glimpse of what your children are really made of - in this case, of the self-control, determination, and spunk deep within little Ry-Ry.

Vacation

We returned on Sunday from our annual, week-long trek to the beach, this year, as we did last year, going to Edisto Beach here in SC. We loved Edisto last year - it's a quiet, almost wild beach, with very little commercialization around the island. That could, I suppose, translate into "nothing to do," but that's the way we like things. The island is pretty and full of character, dotted with centuries-old churches - and their slightly spooky cemetaries that tell so many sad tales, honor noble lives, and hint at intriguing mysteries - and covered with big, gnarled trees adorned with Spanish moss. There are a couple of restaraunts, a few gift shops, a Piggly Wiggly, and, a few miles back from the beach, the Serpentarium, which the kids love, and that's about it! When we've gone, the beach has always been sparsely populated, and the ocean is usually fairly calm, which is good for little ones. Last year we also saw dolpins leaping just off the shore almost at least once a day; this year, because it rained half the week and there some pretty wild storms (i.e. the fingertips of Tropical Storm Fay!), we only saw the dolphins a couple times, and the ocean was sometimes rather rough, but we still came away regarding Edisto as one of our favorite places.

We've been planning this trip for months, which gave me plenty of occassions to announce that we had to cancel it, for one reason or another. :-) But we made it to the scheduled departure day, the Sunday before last, and I had bought a ton of food and had packed our things, so off we went! It's only about a 2 1/2 hour drive, but it took us about like 3 hours - still, not too bad, and the last half hour or so is a scenic winding across the island. Last year we stayed at a small and rather run-down house a couple rows back from the beach (not complaining, though, because it was a fun week!), but this year, we chose a larger (and nicer!) house on the marsh, a few more rows away from the beach. The pictures showed a spacious and beautifully decorated house, and of course the reality was not quite so pristine, but it was still lovely, and everyone had a good time looking over the house and claiming beds as soon as we arrived. A neat feature of the house were what was advertised as "sleeping alcoves," small nooks on attached to both upstairs bedrooms that contained a bed or two and a dresser, so that the upstairs worked wonderfully for our family. Dave and I had a room with a queen-sized bed, and our alcove contained two twin beds that we pushed together to make a great space for the little boys. The other room had two bunk beds, a spacious place to play, dresser drawers full of games, and a nook that Aimee immediately claimed as her own, setting up all her things as fast as she could get them upstairs. It reminded me of the nursery in Peter Pan, and when I mentioned that to the kids, Aimee said, "Drew, you could go out on the roof and be Peter Pan!" I expressed my opinion that I didn't think that Drew could do that, and he replied, eyeing the window critically, that he was pretty sure he could get out there. I strongly advised them just to pretend! Anyway, Erica and my mom took the gorgeous, quiet room downstairs, with a king-sized bed and large garden tub. All the rooms had a beautiful view of the marsh, which, by the way, was far less "buggy" than we thought it would be. Here's the house from the front and the road it was on, as well as one view of the marsh:

Almost as soon as we got there, Dave went out to explore the dock, and he caught a trout on his first try, so he went out often during the week. He and the older kids also went crabbing a couple of times, which they absolutely loved. Yes, they probably should have been wearing life jackets, but Dave only took them out when the water wasn't very deep at all and there was little or no current (as far as I know!):

We did go the beach, of course, and the first day the water was so calm we could actually swim in it. Chase didn't want to go anywhere near it - I imagine to a toddler, the ocean doesn't look anything like water (or "wa-wer", Chase's favorite word), but rather like something strangely alive. So I didn't push him, and he was content most of the week, or as much of it as we could spend down at the beach, to play in the sand. The other three had a blast both in the water and out of it, and Aimee in particular was incredibly fearless in the waves. My Mom bought boogie boards for Aimee and Drew, and Aimee almost drove us crazy with her persistence with hers, but she figured out how to ride the smaller waves on her own, and I was duly impressed.

It rained a few days, and there were some crazy moments when we thought it might be better to just be home, but we stuck it out, and I think week was refreshing overall. We loved seeing my sister Erica, down from New York, and it was hysterical to watch the Olympics with her and my Mom in the evenings. Quick sidebar: as we were watching one night, there was a Korean athlete - I can't even remember what his sport was - and Drew casually asked if he was from South Korea or North Korea. We answered his question, and, impressed, I asked how he knew there was a North and a South,because we haven't studied that area. Casually, he replied, "'Cause there were two flags at the opening cermemony." Laughing, my mom said to me, "You have to write that down somewhere - he gets distracted going from one side of the room to the other, but he remembered North and South Korea!" And that is something, indeed, beacuse it was a four-hour program - how in the world did he capture and file away something that subtle?

Anyway, I am beginning to ramble, and I would have loved to have chronicled our trip on a day-by-day basis, but it's now the middle of the next week, and if I don't post this now, I'll never get it out. I'm going to try to put the rest of our pictures in a web album and post them later, but here are a couple of parting shots:

Observations on the Spectrum of Self-Esteem...

I know that comparing children is a parenting faux pas, but this is really just me marvelling at differences in personalities... I've mentioned that I've had difficulty with Drew complaining that he "just can't do" first grade, etc, and for me, it's highlighted something in the kids I hadn't noticed so keenly before. He's not always so emotional about feelings of perceived failure, but I've realized that his angle has always been in that direction - if he struggles with something, it's because he feels that HE is flawed in some way. In the almost polar oppostite direction is Aimee, who has no self-esteem problems whatsoever. I've always loved that she is so secure and self-confident, even though sometimes her incredible strong will often leads to conflict. Until recently, however, while watching her more closely because of paying more attention to Drew's self-esteem issues , I hadn't noticed how completely free of insecurity she really is. She had a horse riding lesson last week which didn't go very well at all - she couldn't control the horse and wasn't paying attention or following through. She was in tears later, but only because she was frustrated that the horse was so stubborn (her teacher had said that the horse was the most easy-going on the the farm). I kept quiet and resisted the impulse to say something motherly and wise - that would really just be ill-recieved correction and advice - but noted how amazing it was that Aimee never once questioned her own actions or abilities, and was not crushed by her teacher riding her rather sternly. She was simply angry that the horse hadn't been cooperative and the teacher hadn't been more understanding. (It was hot, and there were gnats, for heaven's sake!) And then tonight, she wanted to help peel potatoes for dinner but was having trouble figuring out the potato peeler. If it had been Drew having such difficulty, he would have thrown it all down and stormed out with something like, "I'm just no good at peeling potatoes! I can't do anything!" But Aimee came out with something astonishly amusing when she exclaimed in indignation, "This potato just won't peel!" There was no way anyone could have told her she was doing it incorrectly - and I didn't try. Eventually she figured it out herself, but I shuddered a little to think how hard lessons in humility will be for her down the road. On the other hand, she won't be afraid to tackle anything, and she'll be able to take criticism without crumbling -indeed, if she listens to some of that correction, she will be all the better for it.

But I love watching these things emerge in my children. Some of the traits I recognize as coming from myself, and some of them come from something I've never known, something that was knit in my kids from the beginning and makes them totally unique. What is in those young ones right now, at nearly midnight, I don't know, as they are bouncing all over the place and appearing to be far from settling down!

The Olympics

In short, I love them! We're watching the opening ceremonies right now, even the kids who are up far, far, past their bedtime and who are one by one dropping off into the Land of Nod. I grew up loving watching the Olympics, some of my favorite memories coming from the times my sisters, mom, and I watched gymnastics or ice skating (depending on the particular Olympics) with breathless enthusiasm as my dad scoffed at the ridiculous scoring systems. Of course, there really was - and probably still is - all sorts of unfairness, and some of the athletes really do take things too far, I suppose, but I really do believe there must be some intrinsic value in this kind of finely honed athleticism. I know it can be abused and perverted, but there is often something so stirring and beautiful about the patriotism and personal triumph displayed at the Olympics. The intensity, the shadows of years of sacrifice, the soaring joy, the sinking sorrow of defeat - and the unique combination that often emerges in one sweeping moment, as in the poignant story of the runner whose father helped him hobble over the line simply to finish the race. How deeply it moved me when I first saw it, and remembering it with each airing of the "Go World" spot on TV still brings tears to my eyes. "I beat my body to win the prize," said the apostle Paul, and I think he was using this analogy in a positive light. Disciplining the body, pushing the limits, going faster, reaching farther, even the fierce edge of competitive desire - I think these are divinely-bestowed qualities woven into our human nature.

And so for the next two weeks, our TV will be on, streaming the Games!

Toddlers and Libraries

I love the toddler stage. It's exhausting (to parent) and hysterically adorable all at once, and we are now enjoying this phase for the fourth time. (Actually, because our little ones are relatively close, all these stages have just been running together, in one perpetual display of childhood!) Chase, of course, is no less entertaining - and tiring - than any other toddler, and I daresay he's probably one of the most active and amusing toddlers I know (forgive my shameless bias!). This afternoon, for instance, when I was trading pieces of Pirate's Booty for a grammar lesson that included recitation of "The Caterpillar," Chase was quick to get in on the deal, standing by each sibling as they quoted the poem, and eagerly jabbering what must have been his rendition.

However, the toddler stage is not compatible with library privileges. In the very beginnings of my mothering career, when my only charge was a little girl who always seemed to know the rules, this was not so much of an issue, but a couple more years into my parenting journey gave me the delightful experience of trying to quiet a uncoopertaive and very loud young man as I attempted to manuever him, his sister, and a load of books up to the circulation desk at the library. We repeated this on every library trip for the whole of his second year at least. I also began to hear at home, with alarming frequency, that dreadul, sickening sound of pages being ripped out of books - and they were ALWAYS library books. Just as Drew grew out of this stage, his baby brother began to grow into it, and as is usually the case with Ryan, with even more intensity. Even confined in the sling or stroller, taking him to the library as a toddler was often a nightmare, and I often left insisting that I would leave him with his father next time - maybe for every trip for the next ten years... We have now come to the happy place where he behaves at the library (and with their materials) fairly well more often than not, and of course, this is just in time for Chase to step up as the library's nemesis, which he has, with gusto. This evening as I was picking up around the house, I found a corner of a page from -you guessed it - a library book, and finding it was made all the more upsetting by the fact that only this morning, I had witnessed him gleefully tearing a page out of another borrowed book. "No more library books!" I said in exasperation to myself, then recanted instantly, because the library is a lifeline for us. So we'll simply weather this descructive stage - and continue to support our library financially all the while. And we'll be thankful that Chase is just so cute! It covers over a multitude of transgressions. :-)

Confession

This may ony be shocking for those of you know who have known me for a very long time (i.e. Carrie!), but here it is...

Our history chapter this week touched on some of the early French explorers who attempted settlements in Canada, so one of the suggested literature books is Anne of Green Gables. Susan Wise Bauer admits that this is not a study of 17th-century Quebec, but insists, correctly, that AGG is just something every child should read, so why not now? Well, it happens that I own, as my dear aforesaid friend Carrie would know best, the entire Anne of Green Gables series - battered and torn after numerous readings and re-rereadings. I own two copies of the first book, and one has perfectly "good feeling paper," according to my Aimee's all-important standards, thus I have already tried repeatedly, with a variety of low-key tactics, to introduce Aimee to this delightful literary world. But... MY daughter wants nothing to do with of Anne of Green Gables!It's almost unbelievable, and if you knew me in my early years, you would know just how unbelievable. I think I shall have to resort to making it the next read-aloud, or perhaps I could find it on CD - there's something always interesting to my children about a book on CD or tape.

The littles ones are beginning to wake and emerge...the day begins!

Flexible Structure

I posted at length on this topic last year, I know - but it's still such a tricky balance. Dave and I both agreed recently, some time around my last cheerful post, that it was time to rein everyone in again and put more structure back into the kids' day. I had been going for the "lazy, hazy days of summer" feel around here, but apparently that just makes everyone crazy. :-) At any rate, Sunday night I refreshed the magnet boards that list their daily chores and responsibilities (they move the magnets from one side to the other when the chores have been completed, I made some sticker charts, and I made a schedule for the next day. Aimee, having been informed earlier of my intent, woke up happily on Monday morning, dressed quickly, cleaned her room, and was altogether a different student during schoolwork. I had explained to her that she was allowed to have her own likes and dislikes, of course, and she could express them in a respectful manner at appropriate times, but that we were also going to work at doing our school without complaining and fighting. I made the sticker charts to help keep her accountable in this area, and she responded beautifully. It's clear - again - that she thrives and shines in an environment where she knows just what to expect at any given time. It's funny how it seems she only needs to have what's expected of her written down somewhere. Drew, too, did better yesterday, although he still struggled with rather violent emotions. I did a couple things with him, and it was interesting to note that he finds the math, in particular, so easy that he acts bored with it, yet verbally expresses continued frustration that school is just too hard for him. I didn't do any handwriting with him, because, in answer to Hannah's query, it's really not all that important to me that he do it right now. Actually, he writes very well - just as he reads above average and has well above average math skills. I guess I had hoped that he wouldn't even notice his slightly increased workload as we tapped into his haphazard brilliance. But it IS true that he's sensitive to the emotions around him, so he may be different creature altogether if we can lessen the tension in the air. And speaking of air, the weather has been so humid, and while Drew's asthma hasn't given him any probems in quite some time, in times when he's unusually moody and hard to handle, I wonder if perhaps the oppressive weather is affecting him particularly aversely - maybe he just feels crummy!

But back to flexible structure - we began this morning according to schedule, and then during breakfast the kids trailed out and began playing together. When at 9, I was nearly going to call out that it was time for chores, I caught myself as I watched all four children trot around the living room in a line, whinnying like horses. How could I interrupt something like that?! That's one of the indisputable, priceless benefits of homeschooling, I think, although it poses the challenge of constantly being wise enough to strike just the right balance. I wonder if I'll ever master it completely - I doubt it, but in the meantime, I suppose the process of figuring it out is one way we're all growing and learning together.

Disorder, Anxiety, and Re-Connecting with Grace

Wow- what a week. It's been some time since we've travelled so much, and settling back down after all our recent trips and dramas has been interesting. The house, for one thing, exploded, and I confess I don't deal well with disorder. I try to make an effort to focus on "people before things" in times like those, but the clutter and the sticky floors (STOP wandering into the living room while eating popsicles, kids!) are very distracting, and it was no less true this week. Dave has also been working on the last few details of some financial deals that are probably good things for us - at least I desperately hope so - but the stress of that kind of thing hanging over my head is very stressful, and it all washed over me suddenly upong returning home, as I hadn't thought about any of it while we were at my mom's. And speaking of Dave working, in the past two weeks, he has worked between 70-80 hours each week - a blessing on payday later, but a huge strain on everyone in the meantime, especially given the major disruptions on our usual routine.

One would think, therefore, that it might be a good idea to let schoolwork rest for a few more days, but we had started just after Aimee returned from camp, and I didn't want to take a long break again after having only a few days under our belt, so I asked them to do a couple of things here and there this week. Naturally, you might have thought I was asking them to go the moon, and that added another layer of stress. I kept thinking maybe I should pull back altogether and go with the typical school schedule, but I wondered if it would just be harder for them to get back into things after an even longer break - I think it would. As it is now, we have a basic load - just some math, history, handwriting, grammar, and, for Aimee, spelling (although she's a terrific speller already and could probably skip the book, but I'm not about to tell her that yet!). We've been reading together all along, of course, Aimee still devours books, and Drew, despite his lack of confidence in himself in this area, reads with an ease he doesn't even recognize - so that already fits easily and naturally into our day. I've been trying to let them dabble in the their new books, easing into things at a non-threatening pace, but so far it's been a disaster. Aimee has been extremely resistant to almost everything ("Grammar is a worthless subject!"), and Drew's anxiety levels about it have been through the roof. Last year he was breezing through his math and answering off-handedly any and almost all questions from Aimee's math, so I thought he would love getting back into that at least, but as soon as I pull out, for instance, a fact sheet (with problems he did last year and still knows effortlessly), he melts into a crying heap on the floor. For him, it's not so much that he doesn't want to do it; rather that he protests he can't - "First grade is too haaaaaaarrrddd! I can't do it! I don't like first grade!" He's so distressed about that it's really distressing for me, especially with something like his handwriting pages. I thought I had made a purposeful effort to stress practice and a good effort over perfection with their schoolwork, but every time he begins writing, he dissolves into more tears, wailing that it's not perfect and he'll never be able to write. On Thursday, after a couple of these moments and many of Aimee's "Why do I have to do this?" moments, I had a mother-of-the-year meltdown myself. " It's not supposed to be miserable in the first five days of a new school year! I can't take 175 more days of this!" - at which Aimee picked up her spelling and begin to work in it. When, slightly calmer, I assured her that she could just take a break, she replied timidly, "I don't want you to get a ticket, Mommy," (Ever since she saw me mail off our association dues and learned that it was the legal thing to do, she's been concerned about it). Ever get that sinking feeling in your stomach, when all you wish you could do is take that moment back and erase the deer-in-the-headlights look off your children's faces? Please, dear readers, tell me I'm not the only one who knows that feeling!

But really, it truly isn't supposed to be miserable in the first few days of first- and third-grade homeschooling. I know things have been crazy, and school could get less so as soon as everything else does, but WILL everything else become less crazy? I don't want to let my children get in the habit of feeling overwhelming anxiety, and of hating what's supposed an enjoyable time of learning together. Yesteday we all went to the store and bought a cart full of school supplies, hopefully inspiring a better feeling of fun and excitement. I'm also going to buckle down and return to our own morning lists, which obviously provide comforting structure for everyone. And we're going to pray, pray, and pray some more, that the outside stressors will lessen considerably, and that until they do, we'll all be able to cope with grace.

A Long Story Grows Even Longer...

...OR, "A Tale From the Tragically Bizarre."



My family didn't used to have such a flair for drama, but we certainly have developed it in recent years, leading up to this past weekend's fiasco. Dave had to work in North Carolina all day Friday and again on Saturday morning, and since he needed a hotel room anyway, he secured one in Rock Hill so that we could all come up early for my parents' vow renewal on Sunday. He worked late Friday night, so the kids and I spent the evening with my mom and my sister Erica who had just recently returned from a six-week stint in Cambodia. My dad was also working, but arrived home just before I was ready to take the kids over to the hotel. It was strange to see him back at the apartment, but in a good way - I hoped silently that this renewal of committment would indeed be genuine and enduring.



Saturday morning took Dave to work, and the kids and I relaxed at the hotel until they grew restless, and then I took them to a nearby park until lunchtime. We then drove back over to my mom's, where we found that my aunt and uncle, along with my grandmother, had just arrived from Tennessee. We enjoyed visiting with them, although I noted silently that my dad seemed a little less than enthused about everything, and Erica said the same thing out loud to me later. We hoped he was just tired. But not too long after lunch, my mom took a long phone call from another sister, who was apparently disgruntled about something, then my dad went outside to make a long call to the same person. He came back in, then he and my mom went out to talk.



"We'll be right back," my mom said, with forced cheerfulness as they walked out the door.

"Well, we'll be back," my dad amended, with his own wan smile.





I didn't say anything, but felt like throwing something at the door they closed behind them. I hoped they were really just "discussing" whatever problem it was my sister was having with the upcoming event - a strange wish, given some of the interesting episodes on this score we've seen at major family events years past. (So I guess we've always had a little dramatic flair, at least in one corner of the family - but that's all I'll say about that.) But just about anything would be better than the kind of outdoor discussions my parents have had in the past year and a half. I took a deep breath, anyway, and put tried to put it on a shelf in the back of my mind while Erica and I took the kids to the pool.



Dave arrived a little while later, and we went almost straight from the pool to the car, heading for his parents' house in York. I was concerned about what was going on back at my mom's, so I was probably a bit of a downer at the Meester's gathering - which, by the way, had elements of the strange and disconcerting as well. My sister-in-law, just a few months fresh off her own separation, brought a "friend," really a nice guy, I must admit, and I'm not trying to be judgemental, but she certainly seems to be dealing with things in a pretty cool and calculating manner, especially given the fact that she has twin daughters who are at a rather delicate, pre-adolescent age. The rest of the family seems a little concerned on this point as well, but my mother-in-law commented that as far as the girls were concerned, they only knew the new man in their mom's life to be just a friend. I don't think the girls are stupid - I believe they probably know better, and I wonder if they are really taking their father's complete departure and all the subsequent and upcoming changes as casually as everyone would like to think. BUT... it's not my life, and they are not my children, and I do not wish to presume and speculate - too much, anyway! - about someone else's life. Things are interesting enough in my own corner of the world, and indeed, things were brewing back on the Rock Hill end.



On leaving Dave's family, we were planning to go visit at my mom's again, but they were just leaving for a late dinner, and even though my dad was at work, the air seemed charged with something. Erica had called me earlier to say that she understood the trouble to be involving just a problem our sister was having, and that everything was still good for Sunday, but I wasn't quite sure. We joined everyone at dinner for a little while, and everyone was smiling, but my mom seemed pensive. As we left, I sent Erica a text asking her, since she was staying in the apartment, to keep my informed of anything she discovered. I didn't hear anything that night, and when I woke on Sunday morning, I lay in bed thinking of how to secure our last-minute gift for the party. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of text messages arriving on my phone - it was Erica, describing how my dad was packing up all of his things. How very, very ghastly. My mom, she said, was gone, and as my dad was gathering the last of things, he had come into see Erica, explaining briefly that "it just wasn't the right time." The rest of my crew woke up shortly after, and I showed Dave what Erica had sent, but we didn't say anything to the kids just yet. We went to breakfast, deflecting comments from excited children about the party, and after we got back to our room, my aunt called to fill in the details - as many as she knew, at any rate. Of course, it was a familiar and ugly story, not surprising but made more horrible because of the wretched timing. She said, anyway, that my mom had gone to see some good friends for some comfort and counsel, and that she would be back that afternoon and hoped everyone would still come to the apartment. If it were me, I would want to be mostly alone, but my mom is quite the opposite and actually finds comfort in people, so we reluctantly agreed to go back over after checking out.We told the children that the party was cancelled, and we fielded questions about when there would be another celebration. We tried to answer delicately, and not squash child-like faith with our grown-up knowledge and cynicsim, but it was hard. Frankly neither Dave nor I could imagine how my parents could even think of attempting another reconciliation after this. When we got to the apartment, at any rate, only my grandmother and my sister were there, and Erica was getting ready to go to a movie with my other sister, Mary K., and her husband. When they left, the apartment was quiet and the air rather oppressive as we just sat and waited for who knew what. I decided to call my dad, and as soon as that long and difficult conversation was out of the way, we went to lunch, my grandmother opting to stay and get some rest. Upon returning, my aunt and uncle had arrived, and my mom appeared shortly thereafter. We went down to the pool, and the kids enjoyed themselves, but my mom, naturally, was very weary, and the mood among the rest of the adults was not terribly heavy, but resigned at the very least. My mom had asked the friends she had seen earlier to come later in the afternoon to oversee a family pow-pow, and shortly after we returned from the pool, they arrived. We were, at the time, cutting into the small wedding cake my mom had purchased for the event - but to redeem it somewhat, we put candles in it and sang Happy Birthday to the people in the family who had to closest birthdays. :-) As we were eating the cake, however, there was a knock on the door. I opened it - to the rest of the invited guests for the cancelled ceremony. My sisters and I nearly sank into the floor as we realized they hadn't been informed of the disasterous changes. They came in, unintenionally jarring the close family atmosphere we were nuturing in the apartment, and for a time some of us felt very awkward. But my mom and Erica rose to the occasion, as usual, and Erica merely showed everyone her pictures from Cambodia, while my mom made the rounds and explained what had happened. The guests, three very kind couples who have been devoted friends of the family for years, stayed for an uncomfortably long time, until they finally decided to redeem their own evening with some dinner elsewhere. Of course we had been glad to see them - in a way - but I think we were all glad to see them go all the same. The kids then watched some television in another room while Erica, my mom, and I (other family members had gracefully left by this point) cleaned up in the kitchen and finally talked about what had happened. My mom also related some things about the past few months that I wished she had told us earlier, as we all certainly would have more strongly suggested caution in pursuing a reconciliation at all, much less a costly dinner and celebration. But that couldn't be changed, so we tried to focus on helping her recover from the weekend that had had gone up in flames - and the fresh bitterness of hurt and dissapointment. I had planned to stay a couple extra days, because Dave had to be out of town Monday and Tuesday, and my mom asked if I would still stay. Again, I like intense privacy in times of great distress, but my mother would rather have family around, so I had agreed to stay. My crew can certainly keep anyone distracted! :-) (And Dave, by the way, had also left by this time.) Anyway, it was a solemn conversation, but as usual, we found ways to lighten the mood, my mom wondering if she could possibly be the first woman ever to be jilted on the day she was supposed to renew her vows - for a 30-plus year marriage, for heaven's sake! - and my sister and I thinking of creative ways to make good use of the leftover cake (we knew where my dad's furniture was being stored, for one thing...).

So my mom is stiil dazed from all this, and although we're doing our best to keep her occupied, she will have to grieve and put the pieces back together - again. As for the rest of us, it was a sad, bewildering, and exhausting weekend, but, unfortunately, not completely unexpected. The only good news from all this is that it may nudge my mom into taking more definite steps toward moving my way, something I would certainly welcome!

On of My Favorite Things

Blueberry picking! I took the boys the blueberry farm near our house, where pick-your-own blueberries are just a dollar a pound, and we had a great time! I had Chase on my back in the sling most of the time, and he ate berries, some of which he picked himself, to stay happy. When he grew tired of being confined, I let him walk a bit, and we didn't make it much longe after thatr, but we picked about six pounds of berries in all, and I confess it was one of those times I was glad Aimee was off happily doing something else, as we were able to make it the entire outing without anyone complaining about being too hot, or too tired, etc. :-)

Question

I mentioned in a previous post a "dramatic swing of the pendulum" concerning my parents. I won't go into any details - indeed, I know so few myself - but suffice it to say that they are renewing their vows in a couple of weeks. They're having a dinner and informal ceremony, to which we're all invited, and it has occurred to me that a gift would probably be appropriate on such an occassion. I am not very talented at gift selection, I must admit, and even less so now, when I can't fathom what in the world to give my parents for this celebration. Any ideas on what to bestow on one's parents, long married but recently, and suddenly, coming to the surface again after a tumultuous 17 months of separation? There is no adequate name for this kind of thing! :-)

More...

When Hannah posted her comment requesting more information about Aimee at camp, I thought I could just post a link to last year's camp entry, but it seems that didn't have much information, besides clues to my own neuroses. :-) So I'll offer a few more details... I began going to this particular church camp when I was just barely on the fringes of middle school, so there were several camp weeks for me that were devoted primarily to thoughts of BOYS. Other memories managed to survive, though, and those were of great missionary and Bible meetings (yes, some produced those wrenching but shallow emotions, but most were solid teaching times), incredible friends (some of which became pen-pals - back in the day! - for years), and rolicking fun. Because my parents were well known in the District of our denomination, I knew many of the counselors and other administrators (the camp nurse, for instance, was present when I was born!), and they and the friends I met were almost like an extended family to me. My mom began going as an assistant camp nurse after I graduated - I think I would have been mortified if she had been there during any of my camp years! - and so when Aimee approached the earliest age to attend, I was all the more open to the idea of her going. Aimee, of course, thought it sounded like heaven, and so last year we signed her up and she rode down with my mom. She stayed in a cabin with a counselor and other girls, of course, but my mom kept an eye on her and called to give daily reports. Mom couldn't go this year, but Aimee was unphased and wouldn't think of anything else but going again. Because we're attending a church in this District again, she was able to register with a church group, as well as ride down with them, which was just thrilling for her. I was glad that Dave volunteered to drive ( and the drive was actually only 1 1/2 hours), so that someone familiar could at least be there to settle her in, but overall I think she'll be more than fine. She'll be there for five nights, returning on Friday. Just as she returns, by the way, I will be leaving with a friend for a seminar in Virginia. Exciting, but nervewracking!

Camp

Aimee is off to camp this afternoon - indeed, on her way now, as Dave is driving her and some of the other kids from church on the 2 1/2 hour trek. Drew is tagging along for the ride, and I am here with the little boys, contemplating a week without Her Highness. :-) She and I spent all yesterday afternoon packing for her week, and she was incredibly eager to be off. Last year I heard that she had a short bout of homesicknesses toward the end of the week; I wonder if she'll even have that this year! I went to the same camp, although I was several years older when I began attending, and it was definitely one of the highlights of my youth. I imagine it will be only more so for the infinitely more outgoing Aimee.

Another Movie Review

On Sunday my parents arrived for a visit - both parents, together, in a rather dramatic swing of the pendulum. But more on that later perhaps. My mom had wanted us all to go to the Big Mo drive-in again, this time to see WALL-E, so as soon as they arrived, we all went to get some dinner, then on to the drive-in. Last time we went, we waited in a line of cars for about thirty minutes just to get in, and the movies were beginning to sell out, so this time we arrived about an hour and a half early, only to discover that it wasn't nearly so busy this time. But the kids played on the playground, mostly happily, and the adults talked and took turns chasing and playing with the very active little boys until the movie began. Right before it started, a truck pulled up next to us, the inhabitants of which were not too considerate of their fellow patrons. They noisily prepared their snacks and drinks, with the truck doors open so that they and everyone else could see, and then once they were finally settled, the mom lit up the first of an endless chain of cigarettes. The fact that my senses were being constantly assaulted with the wafting smoke no doubt affected my perception of the rest of the evening, the movie included, so I suppose you can take the following with a grain of salt.



WALL-E the robot was certainly cute, and the kids were not disappointed. They didn't seem to mind the fact that the dialogue was non-existent for the first 10 or 15 minutes and that thereafter it consisted mostly of the robotic chanting of his name. I didn't mind that, either, but I was on my guard from the start, when it appeared the movie was heavily weighted with an environmental message. It's not that I'm a proponent of trashing the planet - I try to recycle and to be a good steward of the earth all the way around - but at the movies, I dislike the ploy of having my emotions toward a story drawn into and intertwined with someone else's political opinions. I mind it slightly less in grown-up movies (as in The Day After Tomorrow), because then I can usually disregard the attempt at exciting my real-life fears, but that is not always so easy in a children's movie. In this case, I had visions of one or more of my children lecturing me about throwing anything away. And since we apparently have a definite thread of OCD here, I could also see little people fretting entire days (and nights) away as they imagined towers of trash and the necessity of leaving Earth. But fortunately it seemed WALL-E's deeper message went over their heads this time, and they seemed to enjoy the "love" story between the robot and and the droid, which was indeed sweet. In short, it wasn't my favorite movie - give me something like Toy Story! - but it was entertaining and sharply done. Three stars?

Updates

The check: A little investigating with the bank revealed the check to be a duplicate and therefore definitely no good. It drove me crazy wondering how it could be part of a scam that would benefit the sender in any way, until Dave received an email two days later, detailing how he was supposed to cash the check, keep a percentage, and wire the rest of the money out of the country - after which I presume we would be left responsible for the whole amount plus fees. Now THAT I have heard of, and I can't imagine how we could be expected to fall for it. But that's that, at any rate.

Ryan: He did not go to VBS the next day with the same enthusiasm for independence. He asked me to stay, and even then wasn't as happy and confident as he had been even on the first day. I wasn't too surprised at this, so I just went with it. He's such an intense little fellow, and I believe he wants to reaffirm (almost constantly) that he can trust those of us he loves. If he pushes - hard! - will we still be there? I know that eventually he will feel comfortable and secure enough to take more lasting strides of independence, and that, as Tracee said, I'll think back with amusement at how clingy he once was.

A Momentous Day

Something momentous has happened this afternoon. Our church has VBS three days this week, and yesterday, I went with everyone planning to stay, as per Ryan's nervous requests. Ryan stuck pretty close to me for a little while, but when I had to change Chase's diaper at one point and asked Ryan if he would like to come with me or stay to watch the puppets, he opted for the latter. After that, I drifted in and out of wherever the kids were, and Ryan only occasionally asked me to stay with him. At one point, however, I was outside the room with a sleeping Chase, and I heard the assistant pastor interrupt his story to say pleasantly to a little someone, "Well, that's okay - you can sit there. Just don't fall off!", before going on with his story. I peeked in to see what was going on, and there was Ryan, perched happily on a high stool right in front of the room, next to the assistant pastor. I watched for the next few minutes, and every once in awhile he would whisper something or other to Pastor Jimmie, who would smile and say, "Oh, really?" It was adorable, and in short, Ryan had a great time. Today while we were eating lunch Aimee asked if I might be able to drop them off - and LEAVE, which was her main point. Ryan chimed in, "Yeah, I want you to drop me off and then go away." I agreed, thinking he may change his mind later, but when I took him to the church building, he started pushing me away. "Now GO, Mom," he insisted, as if for the past three years it's been solely my idea to be glued side-by-side at every church function. :-) So I left, and Chase I and returned home together, with me wondering what in the world I was going to do at home with just one child. It's probably going to take me it's time to pick them up to figure it out. But there's still tomorrow!

A Mystery

I want to post about our trip, but I also want to wait until I have the pictures from my mom's camera. In the meantime, I'll describe the mystery we have on our hands. On probably Friday, UPS left an Express envelope on our back porch - I say probably because we hardly ever use the back porch, and Dave only found the envelope when he went to put some trash out, and his best guess was that is must have been delivered on Friday. The package was addressed to him, and inside was a regular envelope also addressed to him; inside that was a cashier's check for a fairly significant amount of money (significant to us, anyway!). Now, when he showed all this to me, I thought immediately it must be some kind of scam. I looked to see if it was one of those checks that sign you up for something when you cash it, but it did indeed appear to be a straightforward cashier's check. Dave had looked up the bank it was drawn on, and it's a real bank with branches all over the Midwest. But that's another thing - the check came from Missouri, and we definitely don't know anyone there. I've heard of random acts of kindness where strangers give people money, but this would be REALLY random! Dave called his dad, who has the same name, to see if perhaps it was meant for his business, but his dad wasn't expecting anything like that, either. The other wierd thing about the check is that it's dated in May, but was sent on the 19th of this month. It all seems very suspicious, of course, but the fact that it's a cashier's check seems to lessen the likelihood of a scam, since it's already cleared the sender's bank account, and non-payment wouldn't be an issue - unless it's some really elaborate scheme that makes only appear that the bank the check came from is legitimate... It's all very bewildering, but I think Dave is going to talk to someone from our bank about it today. We're certainly not going to do anything with it until we've explored all the possibilities as far as we're able. Any thoughts are quite welcome!

First Trip of the Summer

I haven't gone into any detail about this - or, for that matter, even introduced it at all - but for a variety of reasons my slight natural aversion to getting out of the house (for real, an inherited family trait) has become a very pronounced aversion this year. It's also true that other related anxieties, and the therapy I'm undergoing to help with them, have revealed just how pervasive that aversion had already become. At any rate, what that means is that I haven't travelled more than 10 miles away (and usually no more than about 5) in months, and thus that the hour-long trip I've committed to today, with several excurions once we get there and then a return home tomorrow, is looming ahead of me as if it were an expedition into dangerous and unexplored territory. My mom, who for the record is definitely not the carrier of this family trait, wants to have "Grandmama Camp" with the older kids, and asked if I could just take them up there. I know I restrict my children's world to some degree with my issues, but I do try to make a deliberate effort as many times as I can to push through and overcome for their sake (the kids' I mean), and this seemed to be one of those times it would be ridiculous and unfair of me to refuse. Dave also agreed with me that I really did need to make a sacrifice simply for the sake of going to see family and friends, especially since one of my dearest friends up that way is expecting a baby at any time now and I don't know when I'll have another opportunity (forced upon me!) to go see her. The highlight of "Grandmama camp" is a trip to Carowinds tomorrow morning, and my mom asked me if I could stay and help her with that - another request I could not refuse, know will be good for me, and yet one that raises my stress level a little. So I've been preparing for this all week - and indeed, at this very minute I ought to be packing! - and we plan to leave in a few hours, first for the swimming area at the lake with our playgroup, then for my mom's. Hopefully at some point I'll be able to go see my friend, who can only be several more times desperate to deliver her 11-day "late" baby than I am for her to do so, and her crew with its new addition. Tomorrow morning is Carowinds, in another direction - take another deep breath! - then I'll return home with the little boys. It's a good deal of driving for me, and, confessing another carefully-kept secret, I have had panic attacks while driving lately, so those of you who do, please pray that I'll have calm throughout this trip. In the car with four children is no place or time to freeze and lose my head!

Snoring

Everyone in this family snores (except me, and Dave has verified it!). There's often a veritable snoring chorus in the back of our house at night, and while my Mom has mentioned once or twice that she doesn't know how I actually sleep with all of it going on, I've grown accustomed to it to some degree. I am, however, awake now because Ryan had awakened me then gone back to sleep himself, snoring loudly in my face, and sometimes it's just impossible to tune it out. :-) But Ryan's snoring in particular is what I've been getting at. (Bad grammar, yes, I know, although I've actually read that there's some debate about that, and rules aside, sometimes it just works, so I leave my preposition where it is!) As I've said, Dave and all the kids snore, so it's nothing out of the ordinary here, but for some reason - whether it was from reading about the results of Henry's Jedi Sleep Test, or because things have grown noticeably worse suddenly - I've paid more attention to Ryan's snoring at night lately and have observed with some alarm that he really struggles with his breathing and definitely has apnea. He slept in our bed for the first couple years of his life, and more often than not still climbs in at some point in the night or early morning, and I never knew his snoring to be quite so laborious and disruptive, so I feel pretty sure it must have grown worse in recent weeks. Also, while never our best sleeper by far, he's been much more...let's say, intensely emotional lately. He wakes up tired and cranky in the mornings and leaves me wanting to run and hide even earlier in the day than usual. :-) Yesterday morning was so rough, and his snoring the night before so definitely disturbing, that I was prompted to call his new pediatrician for an appointment. There was an opening that morning, so we went and the ped said Ryan certainly has large tonsils and especially given the apnea we've heard, probably needs to have a sleep study, which is now being scheduled. I looked back at Jenny's posts about Henry, and it seems that there are possibly big time gaps between the study and diagnosis, and then the diagnosis and the final treatment. If Ryan's sleep, and subsequently his mood, is being affected as dramatically as it appears by this, how in the world could we go months before improvement? The doctor said that if if were going to be a couple months before we could get a sleep study scheduled, he would prescribe Flonase as a temporary fix - but it seems to me we might need to do that even sooner if it takes a long to get the results and then embark on the appropriate course of treatment. So, Jenny, I'm interested in knowing what you guys are doing for Henry in the meantime. I feel sorry for Ryan, who must feel miserable for so much of the day, and at the same time, everyone else is sharing in the suffering, which sometimes wears down some of our empathetic feelings for the little guy!

Sharing Sleep

All my children love to be near someone while sleeping, but Aimee and Ryan are rather particular about the who and the how. Drew, however, craves intense snuggling, and it appears he's finally found a sibling who at least doesn't mind it. :-) In the early morning Drew often climbs into my bed and this is what happens when the crowd of bodies finally forces me out (these are from two different mornings):

Happy Birthday, Aimee!

On Sunday, Aimee Perrine Meester turned 8. Eight! I can't believe it's been that long already. Now I'm going to borrow liberally from Courtney and share our own birth story on this occasion.

I discovered I was pregnant just about four months after Dave and I were married. After our whirlwind romance, my mom was a little worried that a pregnancy so soon after the wedding was too much too fast, but I wasn't concerned. Perhaps if it were my own daughter I very well might think differently, but things worked out, and anyway, I've always had very strong opinions - not shared by everyone in my family, or, for that matter, by many other people at all - about marriage and children. I had one of those typically naive first pregnancies, in which I read What to Expect When You're Expecting and believed it as well everything the doctors told me, all of which made for a rather bewildering and stressful combination - in hindsight, anyway. I believed at the time that I suffered from a fair amount of morning sickness and gained all the weight I could possibly have gained (a whopping 22 pounds). My due date was June 12, and as it approached I worried what would happen if that day came and went with no baby, but it turned out I didn't need to worry on that score. On the evening of June 7th, I began to have a series of regular contractions that seemed to indicate (according to the book!) that I might be in labor. I wasn't sure if I should go to the hospital or not and spent all evening worrying about it. By around 11pm, Dave suggested we just go and see what was what, because he knew we wouldn't be getting any sleep anyway, so we drove over to Greenville Memorial and were escorted to a triage area of OB. The nurse who checked me said I was 1cm but having regular contractions, and she concluded her examination by thoughtfully remarking that I certainly had small pelvis and might have a difficult time during delivery. She suggested that I stay around for a couple of hours and see if anything happened - a sure-fire way to stall a first labor! I was nervous and stressed, but after a little while another nurse suggested I stay overnight. They gave me some medication to help me sleep, which only made me groggy and restless all night, and by the morning, predictably, I hadn't progressed sufficiently, so they sent me home, although a kind nurse did say she believed I would be back very soon. She recommended I go home and get some rest, which of course I didn't do. I went home and had an unhappy breakfast and fretted some more, before more intense contractions suggested I visit the doctor's office for another look at things. The doctor gave me the good news that I was truly in labor at this point, so we drove back to the hospital, called everyone in the family -who all began the trek to Greenville - and awaited delivery. I weathered a few relatively hard contractions before happily agreeing to some medication, which "took the edge off," as they say, but really just made me feel very out of it. A short while later, I agreed to the epidural, and as soon as it took effect, I drifted off into a long and much-needed nap. When I woke up, it was early in the evening, and I chatted with everyone in the room for awhile before observing calmly to my mom that I felt "some pressure." The nurse came in and checked me, discovering that I was complete and ready to push - cue the bright lights, rolling table, blue sheets, etc. The rest that followed was very dream-like, but I do remember pushing briefly, the doctor telling me casually that she was "just going to make a little cut," and Aimee emerging all at once, at just a little after 7:30. Of course there were raptures of joy at seeing my first baby, so small (6lbs. 10 oz.) so beautiful and - it was Aimee after all - perfect! She was perfectly clean, had a perfectly round head, and did everything a newborn baby ought to do. :-) Unfortunately, all the drugs swirling around in my system left me feeling somewhat disconnected from the whole experience - or so I learned later. Over the my next three births, I learned much more about birth, in fact, causing me to regret things like that "little cut," as well as the fact that since Aimee was my smallest baby by at least a pound and a half, I'll probably never again have the opportunity to fully experience delivering a six-pounder, rather than those agonizing eight pound-plus boys! But in spite of the fact that I would have done things differently had I known better, I still cherish dearly the memory of my first birth, that of my beautiful daughter, who taught me how to be a mother.. and who is teaching me still.

To celebrate her birthday this year, we had a party on Sunday, followed by a sleepover with any girls who wanted to stay. I am not a great party-goer, and not any better a party-giver, but my mom had come for the weekend and so was enormously helpful in keeping things going. We had ten girls, not counting Aimee, and some of their parents, and things were crowded and noisy, but I think the girls had a good time. Aimee behaved as well as any parent could wish for during present-opening, opening each card before each gift, then thanking the gift-giver with a hug before proceeding to the next gift. After the last present, she announced she wanted to make a speech, then stood on the couch and thanked everyone once more. Priceless!

Six girls stayed for the sleepover - a rather ambitious endeavor on our part, but it turned out well. :-) I didn't anticipate, however, that it would take me all week to recover and put the house back in order! It was worth it...although maybe next year we'll do something on a slightly smaller scale.