Urine in Contacts = Not A Good Substitute for Saline

Yes, you read that right. Let me start a bit back...

Our sweet Jacob. He breaks my heart with his constant "Mommy, can I cuddle wif you." and "I want you to hold me." He's a sponge for affection and can just never get enough. His favorite thing to do at the moment is ask "Do you know what I love?" and after your obligatory "What?", he throws his warm little arms around you and cries "YOU!!!". And he'll do it over and over, even with someone he's just met. His heart is tender and wonderfully open.
Yet his body is sick, and we don't know why. He often cries at night that his bottom hurts, writhing in pain. Every week or so I will see blood on tissue when I help him wipe after using the toilet. It's terrifying. I've looked over and over, never to find where the blood could be coming from. He's been toilet trained since last spring, so it's certainly not a diaper rash and there is no visible irritation.
We've been at the doctor a good bit. I'm sure she sees paranoid parents often. The first time we redid the celiac testing, since our previous pediatrician botched the test. He neglected to tell us that Jake actually needed gluten in his system for it to be conclusive. So we fed him gluten and retested. Nothing. The next time it was a blood test for food allergies. Nothing. Then he seemed to stop complaining and life got busy with four of our birthdays and Jesus', too. He did well, but now we are back to complaining. It's more frequent and so are the bits of blood.
So last week we returned to the pediatrician and he was doing the writhing and fussing while we were there. He also went to the bathroom and she was able to see firsthand the little bit of blood. At least now it's validated. It's not in my head. Phew... So she did some swabs and we went back again later for some more blood work for I don't know what. Then I got Strep. Ugh.

The Dr ordered a barium enema to see what is going on in his intestines. My poor little guy! It was scheduled for today and, like I said, yesterday he was to have clear liquids only after 1pm. Coop started at 12:45 so I fed him lunch and geared up for the long haul. I let him choose juice and one of those Vitamin Water things. He chose the 'endurance' and hated it but Mommy liked it. May be a good thing. I feel that I could use some endurance right now. So he had his juice and jello for snack at Coop and did so well not wanting the other kids snacks. I heard he found a stray Cheerio and snarfed it down before his teacher could intercept. Such a sweet woman. Luckily the Cheerio caused no harm.
At 4pm I gave him a triple dose of Senecot as directed. For dinner he had 4 bowls of Jello. I can just see him in college (((shudder))). And then before bedtime, I was obligated to administer the dreaded Fleet Enema. Dear Lord this test better be worth it! Well, we did that and I laid on the bathroom floor with him waiting for it to work. I was starting to worry when it finally did it's thing and cleaned him out. Poor guy didn't know what was going on. I explained every step. "We're going to do this to clean out your bottom so the Dr can see what is wrong with it tomorrow." On a hunch I dug up an old Pull Up for him to wear overnight. Under protests of being a big boy already, I finally convinced him that 3 year old can wear Pull Ups on occasion. Thank God for those little hunches we mom's get. The little man woke up devastated because he had an accident in his sleep. I explained to him that the medicine was making his body do what it needed to do to clean out, and it didn't count as an accident. After all that, we had to do another Enema this morning. This test IS important, right? Sigh....
The morning was much harder as the other kids ate and Jacob couldn't. I sat Selah and Lucas down with breakfast and Jacob and I played with trains and his new wooden tool set. I had, of course, chosen to fast with him.
The whole morning I struggled to do anything amid the begging for food and fussing of his bottom hurting, and the jealousy of a little 18 month old who wandered shy he wasn't the one getting all of the attention. I held them both for most of the time and we all watched The Fox and The Hound. It took me awhile to realize that there is actually no 'Fox'. That the hot little girly pup is 'foxy' as in sexy.... thus a Fox. Even back then cartoons were really for parents, weren't they?
Carol was a divine angel, come to save me from the potential of taking all three children to Scottish Rite Children's Hospital. Looking back at my long day, I can see that it would have absolutely bankrupt my energy.
We arrived on time and walked in amid reflections from windows tinted in all shades of the rainbow. Jacob was captivated and took several minutes naming each color before he would agree to approach the registration desk. And that's where I became the hospital mother. Apparently every employee of the hospital believes that I am adopting them, no matter if they are even my senior. Because every where I went it was "Right here, Mom." "Mom, I need you to sign here." "Mom, here's your license back."... "Oh, thank you, Mom." I understand that it makes things easier for them, yet it felt quite odd. I was seriously tempted to respond with a "Yes, son?" to the worst offender but I decided against it. I still wasn't sure which of them was responsible for inserting things into my little boy and I didn't want to risk pissing anyone off.

We were in the room rather quickly, where my little guy refused to wear the medical gown. He was much more comfortable prancing around stark naked in only his socks, thank you. So that's what he did. The initial Xrays went quickly. I had to wear the lead jacket and they had this little square of lead that they laid over his tiny penis. My future grandchildren thank you. I held his hands and his trusty sheep lay right next to him to get his Xrays, too.
Then the Barium went in. He was such a trooper. He lay still just holding my hand and we talked about what we were going to go eat when we left. I told him we would have a date and he could choose. He was torn between scrambled eggs from Awful House of a Quesadilla from Taco Smell. It's not my fault, my husband teaches them these things! By the time they were ready to start the Xrays with the barium, the quesadilla had won out, and my son was fretful and uncomfortable. The radiologist rushed in and at that point I was asked to stand back and just watch. Two nurses flipped his body over into several poses as the radiologist called out... whatever it was he called out. I wasn't listening. All I could here was my little man crying and saying "Dat's enuf! Dat's Enuf! I'm all done." And eventually just crying because they weren't done yet. The last part he was on his back and could look at me so I swallowed my sick feeling and panic to tell him all those reassuring things you're supposed to. You're so brave! It's almost done! I'm so proud of you! Just a minute longer.
Finally done, They wrapped his tiny body in towels and handed him to me telling me to get him on the toilet immediately. The bag of barium that they pushed into his system was huge, and his belly was distended like a little starving boy from Africa. He sat on the toilet screaming that it hurt, so I bent down to rub his back and help him relax. That's when it happened. The poor little guy lost control and peed as all the barium came rushing out. Unfortunately he wasn't prepared to hold things down, so he peed right in my eye, down the left side of my face and in my hair. Luckily my contact started flipping out causing me to focus on not losing it, rather than the urge to hyperventilate and have a panic attack. My sweet son sat there with barium pouring out of him saying " Mommy, I sorry I peed on you!" I had to ask the nurse 5 times to find me some saline solution and if she told me ONE MORE TIME that the urine was sterile... oh never mind.
So after 15 minutes in the bathroom and an unbelievable amount of chalky white liquid coming out of my boy, we were able to go get the last set of xrays and then get dressed. I was impressed that Jacob wasn't traumatized by the whole thing and jumped right up for that last set. Kids truly are amazing.
As we were getting ready to leave the poor nurse brought out a cheep, ugly teddy bear and Jacob would have nothing to do with it. She tried several times to get him to take it, even asking if he could be Sheepy's friend. Not interested. Smart boy, saved mom a trip to Goodwill. It was a sweet gesture, of course. But yeah, no need for more teddys around here. Smart boy deserved TWO quesadillas!
So the whole ordeal was over. We drove through Taco Smell on the way home for his 'treat' of a Quesadilla. He was thrilled that I could roll down his window in the sliding door so he could order it. He's always begging for his window to open. Yet another feature I LOVE about the 2008!
We got home to the other two down for their nap and Carol relaxing with her daughter Zephora. Jacob finished his quesadilla and was off for nap time to. I chose to err on the side of good manners and spend some time with Carol (good decision, I got to know her a bit better.) But let me tell you I could hardly wait to wash my face again and wash my hair!

MY BRAVE ONE

Daddy Dearest

I suppose it's apparent at this point, if you've read some of my older postings, that my family is quite dysfunctional. I say that with all honesty because I truly think every family is. If a family were to exist that was NOT dysfunctional, would that not be so far from normal as to qualify as dysfunctional after all?
I have a fun little way of describing my family. You have to start by closing your eyes and picturing My Big Fat Greek Wedding because, we're loud, obnoxious and shamelessly embarrassing. Now, I'm not done! You have to add a bit of The Royal Tennenbaums. All Fowlers are quite dramatic, extremely competitive, emotional and true geniuses (but only in our own minds) For example, me hacking away at this blog, pouring my thougths out for no one in particular. Is anyone reading this? Now, to top it all off you must include the odd dynamic we have of all trying to look perfectly happy, united, umm... and black. Therein lies the Cosby Show connection. Yes, yes... we all believe in some deep secret connection to Africa, hidden somewhere by racist relatives. It's the only way to describe your hair, our awesome big butts... and our jive...
So, as you can see, my family is quite complex and Multi-facetted. Add those three families together and you make it up to our count. Let's see there were 2 Portokalos children, 5 Huxtables and 3 Tennenbaums. Add 2 parents My mom would be a Portakalos, my dad a mix of all 3 fathers. There you have it, a family of 12. A complete mess of love and hate, joy and pain.

Way, way back I wrote about confronting my father on his anger. Kelly added a comment recently that had me thinking. That was 3 years ago and things have changed. Most of it you can see in my big ol' update from the beginning of the month, regarding my family over all.
But my father, I think he deserves honorable mention. That day I confronted him about Selah, something changed him. My dad crawls into a shell when confronted. And he isn't confronted often. I really believe he was unaware of his anger and just didn't get the effects of it. But since that time I've seen him struggle to restrain himself. He's screwed up a few times. He's also made me so proud when I've seen him walk away instead of rage, or tell the parents of a child if they needed discipline (instead of assume responsibility for it when it wasn't his).
I'm the big warrior in the family, if you haven't seen that already. I confront on everything, refusing to give up on our potential to grow. That's how I am in life. I don't pretend things are OK. I refuse to even keep rugs. No fake fronts to brush things under. What you see is what you get. No secrets here. So here I am the one, the only one, who has confronted him time and again, challenging who he is and begging him to be better. Writing him letters of painful memories, begging him to recognise the consequences of anger and abuse. I've long felt that he deserved to be honored for the changes he has made.
I know he feels that we all go to out mother for everything, that we love her more, that he's not important. He tried so hard to be fun and cool, not knowing how else to pursue relationships. He's too afraid of the 'deep'.
Well, me... not so much. I'm all about 'deep' and about sharing it. His 60th birthday was this weekend and I wrote him a long sappy letter.
Yes, I still have boundaries. My father never has and never will be left alone with my children. It's just as unfair to him as it would be to them. We will always be there, to be sure that nothing gets out of hand to scar innocent little hearts that see Pappaw as a hero. That's the way it should be, and I'm protecting him as much as them. They deserve a magical relationship. Yes, something could happen. Yes he could lose it. He could hurt my child's heart or at worst yank an arm and make it sore. Yes that sounds like a crazy risk. But I'll be there to call him on it however I have to. And my children are confident and strong. We can handle the risk. If at any point I don't feel that it's safe, I have no problem pulling the plug.

So, Kelly, here's how I feel about my dad now. Not a direct answer, but maybe helpful. The letter I gave my Dad. Grab a cup of coffee, it's long...

Dad,
It’s amazing how uncreative I am when it comes to getting gifts for you. Completely incompetent. Mom is easy, books and girly stuff. Simple as pie. So then I thought…pie. Always pie for dad. Gooseberry pie, licorice or dark chocolate. Chocolate covered orange peels. All so boring and redundant. Why is it the only thing we can come up with for you are these few things to eat? And, in the end would you rather have the boring collection of ties for gifts?
So while this is an inexpensive gift, it doesn’t come cheaply. I’ve written you letters in the past that have been full of raw pain and disappointment. I remember the first time I wrote was to get permission to go to Magic Mountain with some silly boy when I was 14. A letter full of reasons why I was so mature and worthy of trust. You listened and allowed it. Ironically quite a miserable day and I still feel ashamed at times for breaking that little boy’s heart. I wrote to you when I slit my wrist, just after turning 15. That letter was thrown out before I ever let anyone see it. But most of the letters I wrote were full of hurts and painful memories, begging for validation.
In the past few years I’ve written you a few letters or been more bold in actually sitting and confronting the issues, now as a woman and a mother fighting for the hearts of her children. I’ve seen you differently over the past years, as you’ve sometimes cowered at my boldness yet other times looked me in the eye with tears and open brokenness. I see now what I couldn’t see through the anger and confusion of youth.

In this letter I again want to share my heart with you. Dredge up old memories, some painful and raw, but the purpose here is not the same. This is meant to be quite a different letter.
My earliest memories are all muddled together and I’m not sure which comes first.
I remember music. Stretched out on the floor on Sunday afternoons in a sun puddle from a nearby window, I soaked up the warmth and the sound of your guitar and voice at the same time. ‘Puff The Magic Dragon’ and ‘Where Have All The Flowers Gone’ shaped my soul and my love for music. It drew me to a man whose heart beats to music. You taught me to soak in the music. Thank you!
Up the ladder I went at just 4 years old, driven and brave. Still, I can close my eyes and remember the confidence of knowing my dad was there in the deep end. Waiting to catch me as I went off the high dive. Four years old, unafraid. I dove right in. I believed you would catch me. I trusted. And I’m still always the one to dive right into things. Fearless. Thank you.
Marshmallows. I still love them, just for the memory. So many people see camping with young children as such a daunting task. Not you. I have countless memories of adventures in the woods. I was Pocahontas. I could take on the world. I could learn to put up the tents right there with the boys. I could learn to leave a trail with stacking stones. That’s the kind of girl who can grow up and live out of a tent in South America for a month with out batting an eye I could glory in adventure. I could be a part of God’s gorgeous nature. Thank you.
Many times I’ve seen men crumble in defeat and fear over the loss of a job. Not many men have to bear it for so long and with such intensity. And twice. I know you felt it. I can not imagine the pressure of providing for 10 mouths when there was nothing. The attack on the spirit of man created from his core to provide. You kept sending the . resumes, even after a year. You held, determined to see it through. You didn’t buckle or break. Thank you.
I remember the confusion and fear when we all could have died in the van accident in New Mexico. You weren’t there. The next day we rode the train to Los Angeles and there you were, finally. We all got in the car and you drove us through the city showing us beauty, making it all ok. Then for some reason a few weeks later I was allowed to ride back with you on the train to get the van. I felt like a princess. I think some of the other kids went too, but all I remember is you and me. I know that I got to ride in the front seat of the van back to Los Angeles. The weather was wretched in New Mexico, yet as we approached the border of California a miracle happened. I remember it as vivid as it was yesterday. Just as we got to the state line. There, running as far as I could see in either direction, parallel with the sign that welcomed us to California. The shadow of the clouds on the earth broke in a perfect line and there was only sunshine ahead. Sunshine and hope. A precious memory..
And it was all sunshine for awhile, until that company fell through, too. In that time I learned determination. I saw you take jobs I never knew you could do. Construction, painting, anything. I remember the awe of being able to ‘go out’ to Taco Bender and get a burrito because I was out working with you one day. Not even a McDonald’s visit in as long as I could remember. Who could afford to feed us all eating out, WITH a job even! It’s the best burrito I ever ate in my life. I still think about it. A special alone time with my dad.
Sacrifice came as things got worse. I remember Thursday morning as the food ministry, helping other needy families to the best of what was there first then taking home what we could. I remember being heartbroken when there was nothing left to do. I remember the look of defeat the day you came home with bandages on your arm and $20 to buy groceries. It’s the only time I remember you showing it so clearly. It shook me. That’s when I started leaving what little babysitting money I made on your dresser, or hiding it in mom’s purse. I could sacrifice for my family like my father. Again, humbly. Thank you.
And the night you came home to find me with bloody wrists. Tired of being torn between my age and my responsibility. Tired of being just one of ten, yet feeling like the only one of ten trying to do something about it. I was fine. I had ‘changed my mind’ and cleaned it up, not knowing that the neighbor was at the door and was going to tell you. You dragged me down stairs and yelled at me till 3am. Of all ironic things. You grounded me for the first time in my life! Crazy way to react to your 15 year old trying to end their life. But you know what’s crazier still? It gave me hope. From a man who didn’t show much emotion other than happy at church dad or extreme anger dad, I saw fear for me, I saw care for me. I saw you ready to as a warrior for me. I was more than just one of ten. It was almost instantly healing. I was ready to stand back up and fight some more. Thank you.

There’s so much more. I’m cutting myself off at the early years, only because I’ve sent you so many accusations from those same years. You are so much a part of who I am. In your mistakes and your triumphs you’ve taught me. I once heard someone say that true forgiveness is when you can look back over the pain and feel thankful for it. Thankful for the experiences that made you who you are. And, most important of all, not wanting to ever go back and change a thing. Like all parents, you’re flawed. It’s God’s plan. Dad I love the things I’ve learned from you. The good and the bad. All of it molded together to make me the woman God’s created me to be. And I couldn’t be without it, or without you.
So for your sixty years of life, I am ever thankful. I am thankful for amazing changes I’ve seen in your heart over the past few years. You blow me away. I love you. Thank you for the music, the fearlessness, the adventure, the determination, the hope, the sunshine, the time, the sacrifice, the warrior, and most of all the love and memories that sometimes I couldn’t understand.

Happy birthday, Dad.

I love you forever,

Then There Was Tom

There are acquaintances. You see them at church or the grocery store and catch up for a minute but you both know that you'll never make the time for a cup of coffee together. There are friends. You call every now and then. You have dinner and hang out or go shopping and feel free to call on each other in an emergency. Tommy wasn't either of these. Tommy is one of those deep root relationship. Life goes on with short glimpses of time to reconnect. We never hear from them, but when I know they are ok the world is safe and as it should be. Whether he is in Germany or Kennesaw doesn't matter. He's there. We can get together once a year and it feels like we saw each other yesterday. Travis is in on it. There's nothing secret or covert about the fact that I love Tom as dearly as one of my own brothers. Half the time Tom and Trav talk more than I do anyway. He's just very special to me.
Having said that, I don't really know him anymore. He's very different and detatched. I don't really understand how he thinks and the decisions he makes, but I'm still here for him.

Anyway, Tom called on July 29th to tell me that he and Monica were back from Germany with the boys and that they were buying a home in Canton. I was so excited to have them back that I seriously almost danced a goofy jig. That was a happy short moment. Because the next instant he told me that he was off to Iraq in 10 days. So breath, be calm... don't freak out... I'm a miserable failure at hiding my emotions and I know my shock showed. We made plans to get the families together the next night and I hung up just in time before the tears and panic came.

I know, I'm a wuss and there are tons of men in Iraq who are fine. It just shocked me. I called Travis. When he got home he reminded me that Tom is an officer, a Captain actually. He wasn't going to be out patrolling the streets. I felt so relieved and ridiculous.

That was until I talked to Tom again the next day. I apologised for the freak out. I hadn't thought about the fact that he would most likely have a bland desk job out of harms way. The dead silence on the other end was NOT reassuring in the least. Not so much. Actually, directly in the way of harm, specially trained to, ugh....well, stay alive.

So I'm seriously in awe of how strong he is, and how excited. Monica is so great about it, too. I would be a wreck. It's just amazing how God takes people down different paths and they just seem made for it. Me, not so much. Their relationship seems to have been tough from the beginning. I don't know how they've made it this far. If he's going, he's going. I'm hoping that I can be a friend to Monica while Tom is gone. I can't imagine a year without my husband, let alone with two young children. The boys are precious. Unbelievably so. But still. I'm exhausted for them, knowing how long the next year is going to be.

So, anyway. I'm very emotional about it. I have a picture of Tom when we were teens on the fridge, and the kids are praying for him with me every day. So, a long year it will be.

Cuteness

So, in doing the laundry lately I keep noticing that jacob has two pairs of shorts on. He is OBSESSED with shorts and always wants to wear more than one pair. Yesterday I had him ready for dance class and turned around and he had pulled on another pair of shorts over his dance shorts.

Me: Jacob, why did put more clothes on?

Jacob: But mommy, I need more shorts

Me: Why, JacobJacob: Betuz mommy, Papi wears MORE shorts.

insert maniacal little grin and two chubby fingers in the air

Jacob: Papi wears TWO shorts, mommy!!



I will now be spending the rest of the day sewing insanely tiny little boxer shorts for my adorable one. And to think I was about to get iritated about the extra laundry.



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The older two have been tromping around the house for two days as Dorothy and the Tin Man. Now, I certainly haven't let them see the movieand don't intend to anytime soon. I think they've seen a photo is all. If you happen to forget their new names they are quick to remind you of their assumed identities and no longer answer to their given names.

All of this over some confusion about the 'Lizard of Oz' and my children's ongoing obsession with cute little reptiles. I mean, what a wonderful land Oz must be, when you're off to see the Lizard....

Who could ask for better entertainment?

Camping Pictures

Ok, I'm finally forcing myself to add some pictures. I tend to get too impatient to wait on the upload. So here they are. Notice no photos of the photogropher. Sorry.





Upon Arrival, Selah's first order of business was to beg me to take a picture of her 'sitting like a mermaid' on a big rock by our site. Interesting, since she's never seen the movie but I suppose she's seen the cover somewhere. So here is my little mermaid.








Afterward, she wanted a 'tall picture'.





She was very fucused on setting the tent right





In the meantime Jacob wanted to know why we hung a trashbag on the post.














Saturday morning we searched and searched till we found a perch to see the mountaintops.





We found a gorgeous field of flowers on the way.











Hot chocolate is a treat reserved for such special times as these. Sunday morning before packing up.






Lucas wanted some too, of course.





The only photo of me, a gift from my son.



My one regret from camping? Not enough pictures...

Little House ... in the Ghetto

I'm turning 30 in a few months (gasp!!!) Contrary to everything I've ever heard of women dreading the 30-line, I'm very excited and looking forward to it! I just feel like life is better and so much more peaceful. I'm more excited about enjoying my 30's with my husband and children, than I was about turning 20! I'm on this 'Turning 31' kick, which I know is another year yet, but I'm working on myself . I'm basing it on the idea that I'm turning 31 NEXT year, so I'm focusing on personal growth using Proverbs 31 as a guide. I want to find the woman God wants me to be, in the little things. Those little things are proving very impactful.

So, my first step was being content. I prayed for a feeling of peace and contentment with where I am at. I'm tired of the constant urge to compare myself to others. Here's what happened that week (2 weeks ago)
The House. Three and a half years ago with only one child in tow, Travis and I decided to buy a house that was basically unliveable in Atlanta. We had plans already to do major amounts of work, but they came to a screaching halt 10 months later when I was in a severe car accident, Jacob was born and Travis lost his job. That was in interesting Christmas. So basically for many little reasons since then, Lucas being another, construction has proceeded at a snail's pace, if that.
I get so fed up with this tiny shoebox house that I want to burn it down sometimes. I think that's the only way my husband would leave it, and in the long run he is right. It's not easy having 3 kids in one bedroom, or floors that give you splinters constantly. And walls that have been 1/2 finished for 3years, 2 months and some-odd days... I get so overwhelmed and irritated that I panic over this stupid house. One day I was walking around trying to 'clean the house' which never looks clean to me with the paint splatters on the floor and such, and the verse "He who is faithful with little I will make master over much." It just started going through my head and I started dwelling on that. I figured it was better than wondering if a strategically placed mirror across the street would flash light into a Marta Bus drivers eyes causing them to run into the house. They would have to pay for the repairs, right? I've always felt a little chastised by that verse. Honestly I don't feel like I'm truly 'faithful' in anything other than the 'go forth and multiply. We seem to be doing well on that count. I get angry at my children and I yell too much. Sometimes I realize that I've spanked for something that would have done better with a time out, or I've put someone in time out and not followed through with making them stay. I' m constantly behind on housework, sewing, organizing. Whatever it is, you can be sure I'm behind.Anyway, the faithful part. I went to our one bathroom and was, well, going... and I looked around the room. Travis took a week off in February to redo the bathroom. With all of my hints and begging, I don't think it will be done before next February. I thought, "God! This house is so little!" And then it ran through my head again... "faithful in little".
Something switched in my head, or my heart, or both I guess. Here I've been pressuring Travis to get this room done, and the floors, and the kitchen, and build on. Do I deserve to be 'master' over it? Have I been faithful with this house as it is, being content in what I have? No, I have not. I have moments where I like the house, but I insist on constant change. I haven't just let it be and rested in what God has already blessed us with. I felt humbled immediately.
That was about a month ago, and the last month has been so different. I feel different. I don't care if my kids are on one room. I don't feel so embarrassed when people come by. We have what we have. And we are so incredibly blessed!
Ironically, Travis has just decided to relent and allow for hiring help instead of doing all of our construction and projects himself. Two months ago I would have been in a frenzy and already picking out every detail that I wanted done. I kinda feel like... "Let me know when you're ready and what I need to do. " I don't have to control it anymore, or push to get it done faster. I love my house.

Had A Good Day

I just love life right now. Every day with my children is amazing. The things that come out of their little minds are phenomenal. In a world where no one wears their hear on their sleeves anymore (only on their blogs, ahem) a child will speak from the pure innocence of their heart. They refresh me.


It was a beautiful day. Travis spent the morning outside with the kids working on the lawn. It was so great. Many times I mow the lawn because he doesn't have time, which is fine with me. I don't mind at all. For some reason I have an unexplainable fear of the edger, though. What is that? I've never used it. I'll hike that poor mower over the brick and stone walkway, angle it up a hill to where it is almost on it's side. I mean I'm a madwoman with that thing. But pull out that edger and I'll head inside to do the dishes, thank you very much. I should think about what that is about sometime. I'm always tracing my quirks to the roots. I'll tell ya when I find it.
We went out for the afternoon to do some errands and got completely sidetracked by a call to hang out at a friends house. So, off we went down the street with the whole crew, bearing homemade salsa and ginger dips as an offering for munching. We had a great time. The kids ran around like crazy. It was a good day. Makes me realize how blessed I am to be where I am.

So nothing monumental to report. Just happy all around.

Breathing Fresh Air

My husband wrote me this in an email: " I read your blog. For me it's like mentally smelling you and kissing you, among other things. I love your picture too. It is beautiful. You are the woman of my dreams, always uncovering dreams that I haven't even realized." What did I do to find such a man? I'm humbled by the knowledge that I am somehow deserving to be his wife.
I played dress up with my kids and our house became a castle with the coffee table turned on it's side for a stable. I was an honored servant of the queen. Should have done more schoolwork, but I marked it down as a field trip. It works for me.
My new neighbor (the grandma with the fence) left a 'Country Living' magazine in my mailbox with a post it note saying, "I was done reading this and thought you would enjoy it." I sat on the couch with the window open to listen to the rain, flipping the pages with a cup of coffee while children slept.
It was such a sweet day. I was a good mom. Sometimes we wonder if we are doing a good job. Today felt great.

Song of the Zebra

Yes, today's life lesson involves zebras. Have you ever really seen a Zebra? They're gorgeous, striking with their black and white. They're bold, bright and beautiful. And my 4 year old loves them.

But here's the thing about Zebras. Many people mistakenly think of them in terms of a horse, with wild stripes. That's not exactly correct. A zebra is more like a donkey. They're smaller than horses. They are very difficult to train. But what has made them my lesson for the day is the way they sound. Imagine it. What would a cross between a donkey and a horse sound like? Let me tell you. It's kinda like a he-haw on Prozac. Louder and faster than you would imagine. It's especially irritating in the voice of a little 4 year old, galloping around the house in the loudest pair of clogs she owns. It is even better waking up to it at 6:30 in the morning. Three weeks in a row....

So, zebras are teaching me patience with my child, forbearance, self control when I want to scream at the noise. Most of all the Zebra phase is teaching me to stop. Ignore how completely obnoxious it is. Think about how blessed I am that my daughter is healthy. That she is creative. That she is active. And that she hasn't asked for a Barbie or a Bratz doll. She doesn't want makeup and boyfriends yet. All she wants is more Zebras...

Be Still My Heart

Do you ever just have one of those days where your heart is so full that it physically aches. My children have taken on this whole new level of awareness.



Last month we became a one car family. One of our steps towards simplified life. We were a bit anxious as to how it would all work out. We've always got a million things going. But having only the minivan has actually helped slow us down. It has made us more intentional in our living. That is exactly what we are looking for. Living life on purpose.



The Marta train station is a 5 minute round trip for the kids and I to drop Travis off. We've realized that having him ride Marta has so many benefits. First of all, it actually costs less than gas would. Not to mention what another car would cost in payments and/or repairs and maintenance. It gives him 20 minutes to and from work to have some peace. He's been reading his bible and books as he sits. Imagine how much better that must be for your body and spirit.

We all get up in the morning to get him to the station at 7:30. I've started laying the kids clothes out the night before so we can go straight to the YMCA after dropping him. It feels good to get started early. When we pick him up in the evenings, he's had 20 minutes to relax. So he's ready to be the family man.

Anyway, today I was late picking Travis up. Lucas decided to play hide and seek with the keys. I finally got the kids all buckled in and we were on our way. As I was trucking along Marietta towards the station I see this good lookin' guy walking along the side of the road. Can you believe it took me a second to realize it was my own man? I was literally embarrassed and giggling as I did a u-turn to pick him up. How did I get him? He makes me weak.





Selah is noticing things and asking questions that are starting to challenge me. Today we were driving. We were getting on 285 South at South Cobb Dr. We don't go to that exit often. Selah suddenly says "Momma! I see Nanny Hanny's city!" This is what she usually says when we drive into Vinings, where my sister lives. I tell her that we are actually in a different part of the city, but she insists. "No momma. Her city is over there. I see the building where Uncle Dennis works." Now that got my attention. We WERE only one exit over. So I look to my right. There, just above the treeline I saw the top of Home Depot's Store Support Center where Uncle Dennis does, in fact, work. Amazing.


Ok, off to fold mounds of laundry.

The Perils of Travelling Airtran

Well, overall it's not their fault, but the end result was!!
Through a whole serious of crappy events this morning we missed our flight to the bahamas. I've never missed a flight in my life. It was horrible.Kent picked us up this morning (GREAT GUY, there's your plug :) WE got off a little late and arrived at the airport at 8:05.But you should have SEEN the lines at the desk. No problem, we can do the electronic check in...Well, after 10 minutes of it not finding our confirmation we went to stand in the huge line, assuming that we just needed to. After 10 minutes int he line, an attendant tells us that we CAN do the e-check, but have to talk to the service person who is standing there doing nothing. So off we go, thrilled to be skipping the rest of the line. We gave her our confirmation number and that's when the real problems started... First thing she asked for? Passports. You should have seen Trav's face. He knew exactly where they were. At home in the desk. Ummm....yeah. To be honest, I didn't even know we needed them. I assumed it was the smae as going to Puerto Rico, Mexico or Cnanda. BUt TRavis knew...The panic begins. It's now 8:40 and the flight is at 9:38. Luckily Kathryn had our car, but also had the kids. Poor Kathryn threw the kids in the car and headed our way in what was left of rush hour traffic. Thank god for the HOV lane ! She got there at 9:02 and we were checked in by 9:05.
Then we ran. I used my pregnant powers to convince the employee at the security check to let us skip the line. THat was great. Then I got the peopel at the actual check out who are puting their bags through to let us jump in front. The tram was right on time. Doors closed right as we jumped on. As the tram pulled up to the C terminal for us to get off, Trav was the first one out the door. It was 9:10. The gates supposedly close 10 minutes before..I stayed back to walk the bags (we weren't checking any) as Trav bookes it up the 2 storry escalator thats BROKEN. THen of course, we are at gate 3, all the way at the end... I lugged the 1 bag up the damn broken escalator, thinking it wouldn't be a big deal. I'm pregnant, not handicapped, right? Well, half way up I knew it was a mistake. The bigger mistake was letting Trav take my bag with my inhaler... NOT good. By the time I got to the top people were looking at me becasue I was breathign hard. Then the real wheezing set in. I didn't knwo what to do. I needed to stop so I could breath, but I HAD to get to Travis with my inhaler, at the other end of the terminal. I don't know how I did it. By the time I got ot the desk my lips wer numb and I was shaking. I was right at the verge of passing out. And it was 9:12.I was too busy puffing my inhaler and trying not to throwup to understand what was goign on. We made it, right? Wrong. THey changed the friggin departure time to 9:20. Which meant the doors closed 2 minutes before we made it. They knew we checled in at 9, but couldn't do anything about it, they said. I'm so embarassed. I cried. I think the fact that I almost passed out did it. I haven't had an asthma attack like that in over a year. TEh fact that we made the time as it should have been, but they had moved the time up so it was all for nothing. At least it was crying quietly. I couldn't even talk for 10 minutes. The lady in charge came up and asked what we wanted to do. Umm, other than get on the friggin plane that was still sitting there? I just wanted to sit there and be mind numb for a minute. So, we told her to go ahead and reschedule us for tomorrow. Well, trav did. I was still staring into space on my albuterol high. It took her a minute to come back, and in that time I gained control of my brain again. She came back and said that there was really no way we could have made it, since we had checked in at 9. I looked at her and said "We've been here since 8. We didn't know we needed our passports. I didn't consider it international because Airtran doesn't have international flights." You should have seen the look on her face. She was horrified. I think they didn't let us on to make a point since we were 'late'. After we got the tickets squared away, we called AIrtran and they were able to extend our return flight to monday morning. We called the owner of the condo we are renting, and he said it is available for the extra 2 nights, and only charged us for 1!! Not only that, he's just going to take it out of our security depsit, instead of make us come up with more $$. GREAT GUY! We were going to be 3 nights, but now we will be 5, since there aren't any return flights available Saturday or Sunday.We sat ther for an hour before we were ready to move. And, amazingly we were pretty much over it by the time we got up. We went and ate lunch at the Houlihan's in the Airport, and then rode the Marta Train back to downtown,s o that Kathryn only had to pick us up at the North Ave. Station. But she had to wash the car seat because poor Selah had an accident in the middle of traffic. My poor girl was devestated. IT was heartbreaking to see her say she was sorry for having an accident that wasn't her fault :(
. We came home and took a nap with the kids and then took them to the Aquarium for a couple of hours. It was the least busy it's ever been. IT was great. In the long run, we will get 2 extra days in the Bahamas, and we got to spend the day with the kids. No errands, no comittements. It's been nice.So, now I'm going to go grill the steaks I go fir dinner and pretend that we are on the beach. We sure as hell better be tomorrow!!!

So, about the Bahamas...

It's taken me awhile. Didn't feel like posting about it at first, well, becasue it all sounds quite aweful. It really wasn't, though. It's just that the interesting and umm... appropriate parts worth sharing are pretty funny.
Well if you read about missing our flight, you already know how it started... a day late. My dad happened to be flying out on Wednesday to Colorado, so he was able to pick us up without us finding another ride. It was nice to be able to ride down with him and chat. When we got to the gate, they had changed our seats to the first row in first class. You know, the one with extra leg room? It was great. Would have been nice to not be 7 months pregnant and be able to enjoy a drink, but oh well..
So when we landed we found a payphone to cal lthe guy we had emailed about renting a 'bahama buggy'. A dune buggy, basically. Soooo cool, rihgt? Wrong. His computer was 'messed up' so he never got our reservation. He only had regular cars left for rental, and he was flying back from florida himself, so he couldn't get us from the airport like planned.
So $25 later the Taxi dropps us off at teh front of the Coral Beach Resort where we are staying. The building was obviously under a lot of construction, which really didn't bother us but may have ticked someone else off. They did jsut go through two horrible hurricanes in a row. Luckily our room had been completely renovated and was really nice, except for the construction sounds outside. We called the car guy again, he said he would be there in 20 minutes and would call our room.... so we wait, and wait, and take a nap, and wait.. At about 4 (we landed at 11am) he finally calls and says he'll be there in a few minutes. Grrrr. At least he was that time.
So Wednesday and Thursday were pretty uneventful.. We walked the beach and swam. Had lots of fun. Tried hard to find something interesting to eat that wasn't fried.. ugh...
Thursday night we call the house to check on the kids, who somehow were really stressing Kathryn out. Which in turn stressed us out, alot. There were people everywhere with their kids having fun, and we already regretted not bringing them. We talked to them every night after that and things just didn't seem to get much better at home. It's been 2 weeks and Jacob is still traumatized that we left him, I guess.
Friday was fun. We saw an add for the filming of 'Pirates of the Carribean II and III". So we hoped in the car and drove about 45 minutes out into the middle of nowhere to the film site. They had security fence with caution sgns everywhere, but there was no one at the security station. It was pretty fun to sneak around. The remains of some of the boats were still tied to the docks, so we snuck on. It was pretty cool.We added it to our list.
Travis lost his wallet on Friday afternoon, and I only had $80 left, $10 of which we had to use to buy a phone card to cancel his credit cards. We tore the condo apart, evne mifted the matress and all the furniture, but couldn't find it.
We spent the rest of the weekend on the beach and walking around Port Lucaya. It was nice. I actually dug a hole in the sand so I could lay on my belly and tan. Made for some funny pictures.
Overall sounds pretty boring. I don't know if it was really worth even writing all of this out. But in case you wanted to know.... not too exciting....
Oh, Travis found the wallet as he was putting his computer bag in the overhead storage on the plane. Poor guy was so pissed at himself.